#student/professor au

[tee-dohrnii]

POV: You suddenly bumped into the infamous troublemaker of Blackstaff Academy as he's running off with the Blackstaff he stole

[kokoa-la]

Ngl I just find it so funny if Danny just accidentally becomes friends with someone trying to rob him like-

___________________________________

“Get up!”

And he was up, hands above his head and everything. The guy in all black proceeded to pat him down along his pockets while pointing a gun at him otherwise. 

“How do you not have a wallet on you?”

“I’m a college student, I can barely afford tuition.”

That’s a lie, he was on a full ride scholarship, but they didn’t need to know that. 

“Oh you too?”

Did this bitch just say ‘you too’ ? No way.

“‘You too?’ Are you doing this to pay for college???”

Ancients, the school system sucked if he had to resort to crime for this.

“Yeah- you wouldn’t believe how expensive my major is, the textbooks alone cost more than my rent!”

“Holy shit, no kidding. Yeah, why are textbooks so expensive? Why am I paying hundreds of dollars for something that could have been a 2 dollar pdf?”

“Right! I tried asking my professor instead, but he said he’d fail me if I didn’t have the right materials! It’s driving me nuts. Like how am I supposed to pay for all this?”

How Dannt started making conversation with his own robber, he didn’t know, but he was happy to finally complain with someone. He hadn’t exactly made friends since he got here.

“Personally I buy used books, and the more trashed they are, the cheaper. Then, you can just use the pdf version but still have the textbook in class. It’s honestly so much easier. Or you can see if you can borrow it from the library and just bring it in for the classes he checks it, then return it after to avoid the fees. That option is a bit more troublesome though.”

“Oh shit, no way! That’s awesome, I never thought of that, thanks man! Man, I wish I talked to you sooner.” 

“Yeah, it’s all good, maybe just avoid the crime after this? There’s tons of online jobs you can do during class and stuff. I don’t know, there’s always another option than crime. You sound like a good guy, just desperate.”

The robber turned friend (?) lowered his gun and sighed before returning the items in the bag to everyone. He then apologized to the cashier and then to everyone else before giving Danny a hug (how long had it been since he’d gotten one of those?) and leaving. Danny was so proud of him he almost cried (again). 

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I know it's a bit weird and out of place, but that's bcs its a snippet from a fic I'm writing on ao3 😭

But still, I need more of Danny befriending ppl trying to jump/rob him

[arczism]

ehhhhhhhh i am in love with them

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

hey ley… 35 year old university professor (mommy) wanda goes to a strip club for her friends hen do and sees reader, her 21 year old student working there. wandas friends watch wanda watching reader dance for hours and decide to pay for her lap dance. how does this end up?

sorry if this isn’t explained right english isn’t my native language

Strip That Down

Professor!Wanda Maximoff x Student!Stripper!fem!reader

Word Count: 5.6K

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Lap dance, strip club, fluff, angst, happy ending

A/N: This took on a life of it's own

Wanda Maximoff, a university professor, found herself reluctantly at a strip club, all thanks to her friend's insistence on celebrating her bachelorette party in the most unconventional way possible. The loud music, flashing lights, and the wild atmosphere were far from her usual quiet and academic environment.

Her friends were having a blast, cheering and laughing, while Wanda sipped her drink, trying to blend into the background. That was until her eyes caught sight of one of the dancers stepping onto the stage. The dancer moved with a grace and confidence that captivated the audience, but what really caught Wanda’s attention was the familiar face.

It was you, her student. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away. You were mesmerizing, your movements fluid and enchanting. Wanda watched in awe, her mind racing with a mix of surprise, curiosity, and something else she couldn’t quite place.

Hours passed, but it felt like minutes. Wanda's friends, noticing her unwavering focus on you, began to whisper among themselves. They exchanged knowing glances and mischievous smiles.

"Hey, Wanda," one of them nudged her playfully, "You seem really interested in that dancer. Why don't we make this night even more unforgettable?"

Before Wanda could protest, they pooled their money and called over one of the staff members. Moments later, you were stepping off the stage and being guided toward a private room, where Wanda was already seated, her heart pounding in her chest.

You entered the room, your eyes widening slightly in recognition. “Professor Maximoff?” you asked, clearly surprised but maintaining your professional composure.

“Please, call me Wanda,” she replied, her voice a bit shaky.

You nodded, stepping closer, your movements still graceful and hypnotic. “Alright, Wanda. Let’s make this an experience you’ll never forget.”

As the music started, you began your dance, your eyes locked onto hers. The air was thick with tension, the boundaries of your usual professor-student relationship blurring with each passing second. Wanda’s friends watched from a distance, giggling and whispering, knowing they had given her a night she would remember for a long time.

As the music ended and the dance came to a close, you lingered for a moment, meeting Wanda's gaze with an intensity that left her breathless. The atmosphere in the private room was charged with an undeniable tension, and Wanda found herself at a loss for words.

"Thank you," she finally managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. "That was...incredible."

You smiled, a hint of shyness now breaking through your confident demeanor. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Wanda."

There was an awkward pause, both of you unsure of how to proceed. The professional lines had been blurred, and it was difficult to revert back to your usual roles.

"Do you want to talk for a bit?" you offered, sensing her discomfort but also wanting to prolong this unexpected encounter.

Wanda nodded, grateful for the suggestion. "Yes, that would be nice."

You sat down next to her, the ambiance still buzzing with the aftermath of the dance. Wanda's friends had moved on to other entertainment, giving you both some privacy.

"I had no idea you worked here," Wanda began, trying to navigate the delicate conversation. "I mean, it's not something you'd normally share in class, but..."

You chuckled softly. "Yeah, it's definitely a part of my life I keep separate from my studies. It helps pay for school and other expenses."

Wanda nodded, appreciating your honesty. "I understand. It's just...I never expected to see you here."

"Likewise," you replied, your eyes meeting hers again. "But I have to admit, it's nice to see a familiar face, even in such an unexpected place."

The two of you talked for a while longer, the conversation flowing more easily as you shared stories and learned more about each other outside the confines of the classroom. Wanda was surprised at how comfortable she felt, the initial shock giving way to a genuine connection.

Eventually, you both realized it was getting late. Wanda's friends were starting to gather, signaling that it was time to head home.

"It was really nice talking to you, Wanda," you said, standing up and offering her a warm smile.

"Likewise," she replied, feeling a strange mix of emotions. "I hope to see you in class on Monday."

You nodded. "Definitely. And if you ever want to talk again, you know where to find me."

With that, Wanda rejoined her friends, who were eager to hear about her experience. As they left the club, Wanda couldn't help but reflect on the night's events, her thoughts lingering on you and the unexpected connection you had formed. She knew things might be different in class now, but she also felt a sense of excitement at the prospect of seeing you again, both as her student and as someone who had made a lasting impression on her.

============

The week went by in a blur for Wanda. Lectures, meetings, and grading papers filled her days, but there was a constant undercurrent of distraction whenever she thought of you. In class, the air was thick with an unspoken tension. Every time your eyes met hers, a blush crept up Wanda's face, and she found it hard to concentrate on her usual authoritative demeanor.

By the time Friday arrived, Wanda's curiosity and the inexplicable pull she felt toward you had grown too strong to ignore. That evening, she found herself back at the strip club, her heart pounding with anticipation. She paid for a private dance again, but this time, her intentions were different.

As you stepped into the room and saw her, a warm smile spread across your face. "You want another dance, Professor?" you asked, your tone playful.

Wanda hesitated, then shook her head. "No...well, yes, but not right now. I just wanted to talk for a bit, if that's okay?"

You sat down next to her on the couch, giving her your full attention. "Of course, Wanda. We can talk about anything you want."

The conversation started off tentatively, but as the minutes passed, Wanda found herself opening up more. She talked about her week, the pressures of academia, and even some personal anecdotes she wouldn't normally share with a student. You listened intently, your presence calming and reassuring.

As the night wore on, Wanda felt a sense of contentment she hadn't experienced in a long time. Before she left, you reached into your bra, pulling out a sharpie. You always kept one on you. You took her arm, holding it against your chest as you wrote down your number on her hand.

"I don't want you to have to pay if you just want to talk, Professor. You can call me up and maybe we can talk over coffee and when I'm in normal clothes, okay?" you said, you looked up at her.

Wanda stared at her hand, her heart racing. "Y-yeah, we can do that...um, I know you're working late tonight, so maybe tomorrow afternoon?"

You smiled, nodding. "Tomorrow afternoon sounds perfect. I'll look forward to it."

Wanda left the club that night with a flutter in her chest, clutching the piece of paper with your number like a lifeline. The boundaries she was crossing were clear, but the need to know more about you and the connection she felt was undeniable.

=================

Wanda arrived at the café a bit early, her nerves on edge. She chose a cozy corner table, away from the hustle and bustle, and ordered a cappuccino, hoping the warm drink would calm her jitters. The café had a quaint charm, with its mismatched furniture, local artwork on the walls, and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. She glanced at the door every few minutes, her anticipation growing with each passing second.

Finally, you walked in, immediately spotting her in the corner. You looked different from the night before, dressed casually in jeans and a soft, navy-blue sweater, your hair down and free. Wanda felt a wave of relief and excitement wash over her as you approached.

"Hey, Wanda," you greeted her with a warm smile.

"Hi," she replied, feeling her cheeks flush slightly. "Please, have a seat."

You sat down across from her, and for a moment, there was a comfortable silence as you both took in the shift from your last meeting's setting.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Wanda asked, trying to ease the initial awkwardness.

"Sure, I'll have a latte," you replied, and she flagged down a barista to place the order.

"So," you started, leaning forward slightly, "how was the rest of your night after the club?"

Wanda chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It was uneventful compared to the start. I went home, did some reading, and tried to process everything."

"Understandable," you said with a nod. "I can imagine it was a lot to take in."

The barista brought over your latte, and you both took a moment to sip your drinks, the initial awkwardness beginning to fade.

"What about you?" Wanda asked, genuinely curious. "How was the rest of your night?"

"Pretty typical," you said with a shrug. "Worked until closing, then headed home. Nothing as interesting as our encounter, though."

Wanda smiled, feeling more at ease. "It's still a bit surreal, seeing you here, outside of the club and the classroom."

"Yeah, it is," you agreed, your eyes meeting hers. "But I like it. It's nice to talk to you in a different setting."

The conversation began to flow more naturally. You talked about your studies, your interests, and the challenges of balancing work and school. Wanda found herself opening up more about her life as well, sharing stories from her university days and her experiences as a professor.

"So, what made you decide to become a professor?" you asked, genuinely interested.

Wanda smiled thoughtfully. "I've always loved literature and teaching. There's something incredibly rewarding about helping students discover their own passion for it. Plus, it keeps me constantly learning and growing."

"That's really inspiring," you said, your admiration evident. "I can see why you're such a great professor."

Wanda blushed at the compliment, feeling a warmth spread through her. "Thank you. That means a lot coming from you."

The conversation took on a lighter tone as you both shared more personal anecdotes. Wanda found herself laughing more than she had in a long time, the tension and formality melting away.

"Do you have any hobbies outside of work and school?" Wanda asked, genuinely curious about your life beyond what she already knew.

"Well, I love dancing, obviously," you said with a grin. "But I also enjoy painting. It's a great way to relax and express myself."

"Really? I'd love to see some of your work sometime," Wanda said, intrigued.

"I'd like that," you replied, your smile widening. "What about you? Any hobbies?"

"I enjoy reading, of course, and gardening. There's something very therapeutic about taking care of plants," Wanda shared.

"I can see that," you said thoughtfully. "It sounds peaceful."

The afternoon flew by as you continued to talk, the initial nervousness long gone. There was a genuine connection between you, a chemistry that neither of you could deny.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow through the café windows, you realized how late it had gotten.

"I should probably get going," you said reluctantly. "I have a shift tonight."

Wanda nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment. "Of course. Thank you for meeting me. This was... really nice."

"It was," you agreed, standing up and gathering your things. "Let's do it again sometime."

"Absolutely," Wanda said, standing up as well. "I'll call you soon."

You exchanged one last smile before parting ways, both of you feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation for what lay ahead. The boundaries had been crossed, but what you had found was something real and promising, a connection that neither of you could ignore.

==========================

The weeks following your coffee shop date with Wanda were filled with subtle yet palpable tension. Each class was an exercise in restraint as you both tried to maintain a professional demeanor. Yet, every glance, every accidental touch, and every shared smile hinted at the underlying attraction that was growing stronger by the day.

One late afternoon, after most of the students had left, you found yourself lingering in the classroom, gathering your things. You needed to ask Wanda about an upcoming assignment, but the real reason you stayed behind was the undeniable urge to be close to her, even if just for a moment.

Wanda was at her desk, engrossed in grading papers. Her glasses perched on her nose, and a strand of hair fell across her face, which she absentmindedly pushed back. You approached her desk, your heart pounding.

"Professor Maximoff, could I ask you something about the assignment?" you asked, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

Wanda looked up, a warm smile spreading across her face when she saw you. "Of course, what do you need help with?"

You leaned over her desk, pointing to your notes, but as you explained your question, Wanda's focus began to drift. Her eyes traced the curve of your jaw, the way your hair framed your face, and the subtle scent of your perfume. She found herself entranced, her mind clouded with thoughts she struggled to keep at bay.

You noticed her distraction and paused, your eyes meeting hers. "Professor?"

Wanda blinked, snapping back to reality. "Sorry, I... I got distracted."

Before you could respond, she reached out and took your hand, her grip firm but gentle. The electricity between you was undeniable, and as if drawn by an invisible force, Wanda leaned forward, closing the distance between you.

In a heartbeat, her lips were on yours, soft and insistent. The kiss was filled with a mixture of longing and relief, as if you both had been holding back for far too long. You responded eagerly, your free hand cupping her cheek as the kiss deepened.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Wanda's eyes were filled with a mix of fear and desire. "I know I'm your professor, but I can't stop thinking about you," she confessed, her voice trembling.

You searched her eyes, finding the same vulnerability mirrored in your own. "I can't either," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda took a deep breath, her hand still holding yours. "This is complicated. We both know that. But... I don't want to fight it anymore."

You nodded, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "Neither do I."

The air between you was thick with unspoken promises and a shared understanding of the risks involved. But in that moment, none of it seemed to matter. What mattered was the connection you had, the feelings you shared, and the undeniable chemistry that had brought you to this point.

======================

A few weeks had passed since that night at Wanda's apartment. The warmth and comfort of those moments now seemed like a distant memory. The reality of your relationship's complications began to weigh heavily on both of you, and the excitement of secrecy was gradually replaced by the fear of discovery.

It all came to a head one Thursday afternoon. You had stayed after class to ask Wanda about an upcoming project, but the atmosphere was different. There was a tension in the air, an unspoken strain that neither of you could ignore.

Wanda looked up from her desk as you approached, her eyes tired and filled with something you couldn't quite place. "What do you need help with?" she asked, her voice lacking its usual warmth.

You hesitated, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. "I wanted to discuss the project, but... is everything okay, Wanda?"

She sighed, removing her glasses and rubbing her temples. "Honestly? No, it's not. This... whatever this is between us, it's becoming too much. The hiding, the secrecy... I can't keep doing this."

Your heart sank. You had known this conversation was coming, but it didn't make it any easier. "I know it's hard, but we can figure it out. We just need to be careful."

"It's not just about being careful," Wanda said, her frustration evident. "I'm your professor. There's a power imbalance here, and if anyone finds out, it could ruin both our careers. I can't risk that. And I can't ask you to risk that either."

"But I don't care about the risks," you insisted, your voice breaking. "I care about you."

Wanda stood up, her expression conflicted. "I care about you too. More than I should. But that's exactly why we have to stop this. It's not fair to either of us."

You felt tears welling up in your eyes. "So, what are you saying? Are you ending this?"

"I don't want to," Wanda said, her voice softening. "But I think we have to. At least until the semester is over. Then maybe we can figure out where to go from there."

The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock. You could see the pain in Wanda's eyes, mirroring your own. "I understand," you said quietly, fighting back tears. "But it doesn't make it any less painful."

Wanda reached out, taking your hand in hers. "I'm sorry. This isn't what I wanted. But I think it's what's best for both of us right now."

You nodded, squeezing her hand one last time before letting go. "I should go," you said, your voice trembling. "I'll see you in class."

As you walked out of her office, the weight of the situation settled heavily on your shoulders. The once-bright future you had imagined with Wanda now seemed uncertain and distant. The days that followed were filled with a hollow ache, each class a reminder of what you had lost.

Wanda, too, felt the strain. Her lectures were more subdued, her smiles less frequent. The connection that had once brought you both so much joy now felt like a source of pain and regret.

Yet, amid the heartbreak, there was a glimmer of hope. The semester would eventually end, and with it, the constraints of your current roles. Until then, you both would have to navigate the difficult path ahead, holding onto the promise that perhaps, one day, things could be different.

====================

The days after Wanda broke things off were a blur of emptiness and despair. You found it increasingly difficult to muster the energy to attend classes, let alone participate. When you did manage to show up, your mind wandered, unable to focus on the lectures or assignments. Wanda's presence at the front of the classroom was a constant reminder of what you had lost, and it was unbearable.

Your grades began to slip, and the once-promising future you had envisioned seemed to crumble before your eyes. Your friends noticed the change in you, their concerned inquiries met with forced smiles and half-hearted reassurances. But the truth was, you were struggling to find a reason to keep going.

Your job at the club, once a place where you could escape and express yourself, became another source of frustration. Your boss, a stern but fair man named Tony, had been patient at first, giving you the benefit of the doubt. But as weeks passed and your performances grew lackluster, his patience wore thin.

One night, after another uninspired shift, Tony called you into his office. The room was dimly lit, the walls adorned with framed photos of past performances and performers. He sat behind his desk, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.

"Close the door," he said, his voice firm. You did as he asked, taking a seat across from him.

Tony leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "What's going on with you? You've been off your game for weeks now. Customers are noticing, and it's starting to affect business."

You looked down at your hands, unable to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry, Tony. I've just been dealing with some personal stuff."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I get it. Everyone goes through tough times. But you need to snap out of it. You're a great dancer, and I've seen what you can do when you're at your best. But right now, you're not even close."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you blinked them away, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "I just... I don't see the point anymore."

Tony's expression softened, and he leaned back in his chair. "Life's going to throw a lot of crap your way, kid. But you can't let it break you. You have to find something to hold onto, something that makes it worth pushing through."

His words hit home, and you realized that you had been letting your grief consume you. You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "I'll try, Tony. I promise."

"That's all I'm asking," he said, offering a small, encouraging smile. "Take the weekend to clear your head. Come back Monday ready to give it your all."

You left his office feeling a mix of guilt and determination. The walk home was filled with a thousand thoughts racing through your mind, but one stood out above the rest: you needed to find a way to move forward.

Over the weekend, you forced yourself to confront your feelings head-on. You spent hours journaling, trying to make sense of the tangled emotions inside you. You reached out to friends, admitting that you were struggling and accepting their offers of support. Slowly, the fog of despair began to lift, and a sense of clarity emerged.

When Monday came, you walked into the club with a renewed sense of purpose. Tony gave you an approving nod as you prepared for your shift, and you felt a spark of hope ignite within you. The night went better than it had in weeks, and while it wasn't perfect, it was a step in the right direction.

In class, you made a conscious effort to engage, to focus on the material despite the pain of seeing Wanda. It wasn't easy, and there were moments when the hurt threatened to overwhelm you, but you pushed through, determined to reclaim some semblance of normalcy.

Wanda noticed the change in you, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and pride. She knew how difficult it was for you, and she respected the strength it took to keep going.

==========================

The semester was drawing to a close, but the weight of everything felt heavier than ever. You had done your best to keep pushing forward, but the cumulative stress and heartbreak had finally reached a breaking point. That night, after another rough shift at the club, you found yourself standing outside Wanda's apartment, drenched from the pouring rain. Without thinking, you pounded on her door, the desperate need for comfort overriding any lingering hesitation.

When Wanda opened the door, her eyes widened in shock at the sight of you. Your makeup was smeared from tears and rain, your hair plastered to your face, and your stage outfit clung to your soaked skin. Without a word, she pulled you inside, the warmth of her apartment a stark contrast to the cold outside.

"Come here," she said gently, guiding you towards the bathroom. Her voice was soft, filled with concern, as she grabbed a towel and began to dry you off. "Let's get you out of these clothes."

You didn't resist as she helped you out of your wet stage outfit, her touch tender and careful. Wanda filled the tub with hot water, and you sank into it, drawing your knees to your chest. The heat enveloped you, but it did little to ease the turmoil inside.

Wanda rolled up her sleeves and took a cloth, dipping it in the water before gently washing your back. "What happened, sweetie?" she asked softly, her voice filled with a mix of worry and tenderness.

Tears welled up again, and you struggled to find the words. "I just... I couldn't take it anymore. Everything feels so overwhelming. I feel like I'm drowning."

Wanda continued to wash your back, her movements slow and soothing. "It's okay," she murmured. "You're safe here. Take your time."

You took a shaky breath, the warmth of the bath and Wanda's presence slowly starting to calm you. "I miss you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've tried to move on, to focus on my classes and my job, but it's been so hard without you."

Wanda's hand paused for a moment before resuming its gentle strokes. "I miss you too," she confessed, her voice breaking slightly. "Every day has been a struggle, knowing that I hurt you and that we're both suffering because of this."

You turned your head to look at her, the vulnerability in her eyes mirroring your own. "I don't know what to do, Wanda. I feel so lost."

She put the cloth aside and leaned in, wrapping her arms around you from behind, her cheek resting against your wet hair. "We'll figure it out together," she said softly. "I don't have all the answers, but I know we can't keep going like this. Maybe we need to find a way to make this work, despite everything."

You closed your eyes, leaning into her embrace, the warmth of her body providing a comfort you had been desperately missing. "But how? The risks... they're still there."

"I know," Wanda replied, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "But maybe we can find a way to manage them. We don't have to have all the answers right now. We just need to take it one step at a time."

You nodded, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time in weeks. "I want that. I want to be with you, no matter what it takes."

Wanda tightened her embrace, her lips brushing against your temple. "Then we'll find a way," she whispered. "We'll take it slow, be careful, and support each other. We don't have to face this alone."

The two of you stayed like that for a long time, the warmth of the bath and Wanda's comforting presence easing the pain that had been weighing on your heart.

After the bath, Wanda helped you into one of her shirts and a pair of soft shorts. The fabric was warm and comforting, carrying her familiar scent that enveloped you like a gentle hug. As you stood there, feeling the weight of the evening slowly lifting, Wanda led you to the living room.

She sat you down on the couch, then disappeared briefly into the kitchen, returning with two mugs of hot tea. Handing one to you, she settled beside you, her presence a reassuring anchor.

"Thank you," you murmured, wrapping your hands around the warm mug. The steam rising from the tea provided a soothing balm for your frazzled nerves.

Wanda smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You don't have to thank me. I care about you, and I hate seeing you like this."

You took a sip of the tea, letting its warmth seep into you. "It's just been so hard. Everything feels like it's falling apart."

Wanda reached out, taking your hand in hers. "I know. I’m sorry that it had to be like this. It truly was the last thing I wanted."

Her words brought a lump to your throat. "It just feels like…I don’t even know…I’ve never felt like this before."

Wanda squeezed your hand gently. "Then we take it one day at a time. We support each other, and we figure it out as we go. It's not going to be easy, but I believe we can make it work."

You looked into her eyes, finding a strength there that you desperately needed. "I want to believe that too," you whispered. "I want to be with you, no matter what."

Wanda leaned in, her forehead resting against yours. "We'll get through this. I know we will darling."

The two of you sat there in silence for a while, the steady rhythm of your breaths synchronizing. The pain and uncertainty were still there, but they felt more manageable with Wanda by your side. 

You checked your phone looking at the time it was already three in the morning.

Eventually, she pulled away slightly, her eyes searching yours. "Why don't we watch something? Distract ourselves for a bit."

You nodded, grateful for the distraction. "Okay. What do you have in mind?"

Wanda smiled, reaching for the remote. "How about we start with an episode of Bob's Burgers? I did promise, after all."

You couldn't help but laugh, a genuine smile breaking through the lingering sadness. "I'd like that."

She turned on the TV, and as the familiar opening theme of Bob's Burgers filled the room, you shifted with her until you were laying on top of her, feeling a sense of peace you hadn't felt in weeks. She pulled a blanket over the two of you.

As the episode played, you found yourself laughing along with the antics of the Belcher family. Wanda's arm around you and the warmth of her presence made everything feel a little bit better. The future was still uncertain, but in that moment, you knew you had someone who cared about you deeply, someone who was willing to face the challenges with you.

And for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope that things could get better. One step at a time, with Wanda by your side.

========================

One year later, your life looked completely different. The hardships and uncertainties of the past had given way to a future filled with promise and happiness. You and Wanda had navigated through the complexities of your relationship, emerging stronger and more connected than ever.

The apartment you shared was a cozy, vibrant space that reflected both of your personalities. The walls were adorned with a mix of Wanda's favorite vintage posters and your collection of quirky art. Plants thrived in every corner, adding a touch of nature to your urban sanctuary. The smell of fresh coffee and Wanda's homemade pastries often filled the air, creating an atmosphere of warmth and comfort.

It was a Saturday morning, and the sun streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow over the living room. You were curled up on the couch, a stack of textbooks and notes spread out before you as you prepared for your final exams. Wanda was in the kitchen, humming softly as she prepared breakfast.

"How's the studying going?" Wanda called out, her voice cheerful and light.

You looked up from your notes, smiling. "It's going well. Just a few more chapters to review, and I think I'll be ready."

Wanda appeared in the doorway, a plate of pancakes in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She set them down on the coffee table in front of you, leaning in to kiss your forehead. "I know you'll do great. You've worked so hard."

"Thanks," you said, feeling a warmth spread through you at her words. "I couldn't have done it without you."

She sat down beside you, her hand finding yours. "We've come a long way, haven't we?"

You nodded, squeezing her hand. "We really have. It's hard to believe how different things are now."

Wanda smiled, her eyes filled with love and pride. "I'm so proud of you. You're about to graduate, and you've accomplished so much. And I'm so happy we took a chance on us."

Your heart swelled with emotion as you looked at her. "Me too. I can't imagine my life without you."

=================

The months leading up to your graduation were a whirlwind of activity and excitement. Wanda was there every step of the way, supporting you through the stress of final exams and celebrating each milestone with you. You both balanced your lives between work, study, and nurturing your relationship, finding joy in the little moments you shared.

Graduation day arrived, and the sense of accomplishment and joy was overwhelming. Dressed in your cap and gown, you stood in the crowd of graduates, scanning the audience for Wanda. When your name was called, and you walked across the stage to receive your diploma, the cheers and applause seemed to fade into the background as you locked eyes with her, her smile brighter than ever.

After the ceremony, you found her waiting for you, a bouquet of flowers in her hands. "Congratulations, graduate," she said, her voice choked with emotion.

You took the flowers, pulling her into a tight embrace. "We did it," you whispered, feeling tears of happiness welling up.

Wanda pulled back slightly, her hands cupping your face. "You did it. And I'm so incredibly proud of you."

The celebration continued into the evening, with friends and family joining you both for a party at your apartment. Laughter and music filled the air, and as the night wore on, you found yourself standing on the balcony with Wanda, the city lights twinkling below.

"It's been quite a journey," you said, leaning against the railing, Wanda's arms wrapped around you from behind.

"It has," she agreed, resting her chin on your shoulder. "And it's just the beginning. We have so much ahead of us."

You turned to face her, your eyes filled with love and gratitude. "I can't wait to see what the future holds, as long as I'm with you."

Wanda smiled, her eyes shining with the same love and commitment. "Me too. Here's to our future, together."

[lanadelnegan]

Tattoo - part 2 (final)

Teacher!Negan x F!Reader

Summary: After your art teacher gives you a tattoo that will always remind you of him, he wants a matching one. But he wants you to give it to him.. while you "give it to him."

Warnings: 18+, smut, age-gap, p in v, blowjob, teacher-student relationship, giving Negan a tattoo while you ride him, (if teacher-student relationships and/or age-gaps are not your thing, please do not read.)

Part one here

Finally posting this after a century! Sorry it took so long. xx

“Are you insane?!” I stood with the tattoo gun in my hand, mouth dropped open as I watched him get comfortable on the leather couch. He sat shirtless with his legs spread perfectly apart.

“Probably.” He grinned, flashing his pretty teeth and deeply ingrained dimples that I've become obsessed with over the years.

“Seriously.. Negan.. I’ve never tattooed someone before, obviously, and-“

His head fell to the side as if he didn't want to hear my excuses. “You’ve taken my art class four times. More than any other student at that damn school. Did you learn anything, or were you too busy fantasizing about the teacher?" He smirked.

"... I didn't learn how to give someone a tattoo."

"No different than drawing, baby."

"I can barely do that." I shrugged. "Why did you even pass me?"

Negan let out a chuckle, leaning his head back against the couch for a moment. "I think we both know the answer to that." We both fell silent as I looked unsure about what he was asking me to do.

“I’ll start it. Would that make you feel better?” He asked. I nodded, knowing there’s no way I could do this by myself.

“Hand me that pen over there?” He nodded towards his desk. I grabbed a purple outline pen to give him and he took the cap off with his teeth before easily drawing the most perfect baseball bat I've ever seen on his chest right about his left nipple. He tossed the pen aside and started the tattoo gun, bringing it close to his chest.

“Stop.” I blurted. “You don’t have to do this.”

Negan scrunched his brows at me. “I don’t do anything I don’t wanna do, sweetheart.” He said before carving a small line over the purple outline on his skin, not flinching an ounce. He stopped after making a small mark on his skin, then handed me the tattoo gun while patting his lap for me to sit.

He can’t seriously want me to sit in his lap while I permanently mark his body.

“Take your clothes off first, baby. Give me something to look at while we do this.”

I sat the tattoo gun to the side before slowly undressing for him until I was completely bare and cold, shivering in front of him.

“Mm, so fucking beautiful.” He praised, seeing my perky nipples on display for him. I noticed the straining bulge in his pants before I even sat down. I straddled him carefully and settled into his lap while facing him, cautiously holding the tattoo gun in my hand.

“You got this, darlin’.” He encouraged me, probably because I looked like I could faint any second. Sitting in my hot teacher's lap and tattooing his chest wasn’t something I thought I'd ever do.

“What if-“ I started but he cut me off.

“I don’t care.” He said in almost a whisper. “You could draw little hearts and fuckin' butterflies all over me, and I wouldn’t care as long as you’re hovering that sweet pussy over me. The tat? Is the last thing on my mind right now, doll.”

With that, I brought it to his skin and began making a line before I could talk to myself out of it. I felt Negan’s eyes burning into me, and his face was close enough to mine for me to smell the mint and tobacco on his mouth. Negan let out a breath that resembled a moan when the needle tore through his flesh.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, continuing my surprisingly impressive line.

"No." His voice was hoarse and raspy. "Feels fucking good."

I felt the bulge in his pants grow bigger underneath me and wanted to grind against him but couldn't move without possibly messing up. Negan watched me intensely before I felt his hand drift down to my center. I shivered when he ran a finger through my wet slit and saw him smirk out of the corner of my eye.

"Negan. I need to be still. I'm not messing this up."

"Then be still, darlin'. Don't mind me." I heard the zipper of his pants and glanced at him, giving him a silent warning that whatever he was about to do wasn't a good idea.

Negan grabbed my wrist gently and I pulled my hand away from his chest as he lifted my hips slightly and guided me over his length. I sat down completely, taking him so deep that it hurt.

"Negan.." I moaned, and he moaned with me, keeping us still and not moving while his cock was all the way inside me.

"Finish what you started, baby." He said, gesturing to the tattoo gun still in my hand. Hesitantly I started again, going slower this time. I felt his cock twitch inside me when the needle hit his skin, and almost whimpered at how full he made me feel, pressing tightly into my walls.

"You never answered my question, doll."

"Hm?" I asked, focusing on the tattoo and trying to ignore the throbbing sensation in my cunt.

"Did you learn anything in my class?"

I smiled for a moment, thinking of a clever answer. "Of course. I learned that.. I wanted you. Safe to say I did more fantasizing than listening to you yap about art, although listening to your deep voice did help with the fantasies." I giggled.

"Yeah?" He asked, tightening his grip on my hips as he fought the urge to thrust his hips upwards. "What exactly did you fantasize about, doll?"

"So much. But.. my favorite was thinking of you bending me over your desk. Or sucking your cock underneath your desk while others were around and had no idea."

"Fuuck." Negan breathed out heavily as he rested his head back against the couch. "Keep going, baby. I want to hear more."

"I would always stare at the front of your pants."

"I noticed." He chuckled.

"And I'd imagine what it looked like. How big you were."

"Yeah? What do you think? Was it what you imagined?"

"Bigger." I said truthfully, getting close to being finished with the tattoo.

"Sweetheart, I need you to hurry the fuck up and finish. My dick is gonna fucking explode if I don't move soon."

"Already done." I pulled the gun back and smiled, admiring my work and being pleasantly surprised. "Take a look."

Negan ripped the gun out of my hand and tossed it on the floor. "Later. Bounce on my fuckin' dick, now." He said desperately as he adjusted himself lower on the couch.

I happily obeyed him, placing my hands on his shoulders, being careful not to touch his reddening pecs. It felt so good to finally move up and down on his cock, so I dropped my head back and rode him fast and hard while my tits bounced in his face.

Negan leaned forward and took my nipple into his mouth, slurping around it and groaning as I fucked him. I screamed out, knowing we were the only ones there and I could be as loud as I wanted.

"Fuuuck, baby." He said breathlessly, leaning back again and looking up at me. "You look so fuckin' pretty with my dick inside you." His thumb dug into my hips, brushing against my fresh tattoo that now matched his own.

"Negan! I'm gonna cum!" I cried out, letting my orgasm rip through me while my legs shook and collapsed until I sank all the way down on him again, not able to hold myself up.

"Goddamn! Look at the mess you made all over me." He said proudly and I looked down between us, seeing the pool of wetness where our bodies were connected.

"Sorry.." I said, blushing.

He hummed, looking up at you. "I don't believe you. Why don't you get on your knees and clean up your mess? Show daddy how sorry you are?"

He kissed me before I climbed off his lap and onto my knees in the floor, settling between his spread legs. His cock stood tall between his legs and I finally got a chance to admire it. Wrapping my hand around it, I stroked him slowly, studying every vein in his impressive length. I imagined the sight of this for so long, and I wanted to enjoy it.

Pushing his hard cock away, I dipped my head between his crotch and sucked one of his large balls into my mouth, moaning around it. Negan's leg twitched at the sudden sensitivity as he gently wrapped his hand in my hair.

"Shit, baby. Been awhile since someone's had my balls in their mouth. Forgot how - oh, fuck - how good it feels."

I gave the other one some attention before finally licking up his shaft until I reached the tip, wrapping my mouth firmly around his thick head. He tasted like a mix of my pussy and his precum and it was the most heavenly thing I had ever experienced. I savored it as I took him as far as I could in the back of my throat, gagging slightly before pulling back. I continued this for awhile, taking turns sucking and stroking him until my mouth was dripping with spit and his dick was soaked.

"Ohhh fuck, baby, you ready for my cum?" He said quickly, guiding my head back to his cock. He let out a loud, strained groan as I felt him empty himself down my throat. I moaned around him, not pulling away until every drop was swallowed.

Negan leaned down, wrapping his hand around my throat and pulling me towards him for a kiss. I slipped my tongue in his mouth, letting him taste us and his eyes fluttered shut.

"I should have failed you." He signed when he finally broke away from the kiss.

"What? Why?"

"Art won't be the same without you. I dunno if I want to teach anymore now that you're graduating."

"Don't be silly. You've always loved art."

Negan chuckled, pulling me into his lap again. "No.. I've always loved you."

Tag list: (let me know if you wanted to be added to my future negan fic tag list)

@loganlostitall @chaospossum @negansbabydoll66 @redqueenphoenix @n3g5nx @crustyweirdo @youngpersonaathletebear @sadgirlzluvdilfs @ilovebill-and-gustav @neganscumbucket @manipulatorpoem @im-a-goddamn-cat @raininhell @mahogany-cherry-wine @daryldixmedown @munsonslovergirl @sanctuaryforthelost @thelauraborealis @carlgrimesbbg @c3linesworld @blueheisenbergtragedy @startwinklekitty @darlingmadelinee @oceandeepthirst @jschlattsqtip @lavenderchai @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @neganswoman @n7crophiliac @cats-writing @alldevilsarehere90 @natykacenka @queermilfs @stasiaangelsinner @lupa-03 @sadgirlzluvdilfs @pamago-bb @javier-penas-wifexx420 @motelprincess444 @thatonefroggirl @myhappyplaceofstuff @darlingmadelinee @used2beee @easystreet07 @princess-23-xoxo @twdxtrevor

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

With Them, Who Swallowed a Star

PAIRING: Professor!Task Force 141 X F!Student!Reader WORD COUNT 5.3k CONTENT WARNING: NSFW! group sex, age gap, fingering, cunnilingus, oral sex, handjobs, facefucking/blowjobs, unprotected sex, p in v, anal sex, slight usage of nicknames, reader is a pianist/student, tf141 are professors, smut with plot SYNOPSIS: A musician is a storyteller in their own ways. You had told yours and captured the sights of men you never expected to pull when you stepped inside an academy. AUTHOR'S NOTE: I tried to be poetic. This fried my brain and I'm not going to write something like this again. That's a lie because I have a series that has 5 love interests. This one was supposed to have Graves as well since he's actually my inspiration for writing this shit, but I ended up not adding him. I might do it on Drabbles if someone asks though. And yes, I have changed my username from DontFearTheReaperAzura. Here's the Masterlist for more! Also on Archive of Our Own / DISCORD SERVER

Your fingers fluttered slightly as you lifted your hands to the keys, blocking out the rustling from others as they sat in the grand auditorium. Long and drawn, you began to tell a tale you had held for a long time. Notes swam in the air, old friends that played with your tresses and caressed your skin.

The story started slowly, the sound of the beginning, the beginning of the end. Longing clashed with trepidation, your fingers sang a song of despair. You swayed with the music, lost in the whims of unspoken words—of a world you owned. Quicker and quicker, the notes climbed in sync with your heart, growing joyful in hopes of masking the mournful melody surrounding you.

It filled the emptiness deep within your chest for a moment, before like the heavens shed tears upon a barren land, you showed—you poured out the lore of your world, and with heavy reluctance to leave what you created, you played the last few notes.

For a few moments, you kept your eyes closed, and when a series of claps reached your ears, only then you opened them. You were shackled back to reality just as you held back your work.

You looked at the people, who in your eyes were nothing but shadows at the beginning, now enamored, yearning for the rest. You knew they felt it, too. Pulled, as though you were the center of the system. Like the Sun, a star.

And one man stuck out more than others, gazing at you, blue eyes almost ravenous. But it didn’t last for long, just like a song in the wind, he faded among the standing crowd, drowned out in the flurry of praise.

You breathed out a sigh as you stared at the towering structure before you, now your second hell—in replacement of the ramshackle place you call home—after you had gotten a scholarship to this prestigious university after years of a couple of years of working your ass off. Students rushed past you on their way in and out of their classes, but you stood frozen.

Suddenly you felt awfully unprepared for this unfamiliar place, of socializing and strangers, and of university. Of life. What did Google say about socializing with people your age again? How about impressing a professor? Good lord.

You shrugged off your thoughts and sauntered to your class. A large lecture hall welcomed your sight and you found an empty seat at the front row. Not the perfect place for observation of the whole place, but good for listening to the professor.

The sound of expensive shoes echoed throughout the hushed room and you kept your eyes down as you took out your notebook and pen. As the quiet dragged on, you glanced at the professor and found your brows raising at his sight.

He was tall, seemed to be fit, and in his thirties. He had a few wrinkles, a beard, and brown hair, but no sign of graying.

Above all, you could remember those eyes. An endless swirl of blue. The man at the concert hall.

You put your gaze down as the professor looked down on you, your heart hammered against your ribs, sudden nervousness springing in your nerves. You wished he wouldn’t recognize you, but at the same time, you hoped he did.

Yet, the silence remained, and in curiosity, you looked back up. Your breath hitched as your eyes met his, gaze shining with something you couldn’t decipher, and a smile formed on his lips.

You forced yourself to mirror it and batted a glance at the door. You wanted to get out.

The professor introduced himself as Jonathan Price, and told the class a few things about himself, before diving straight into the first lesson of Philosophy.

Time seemed to flow fast throughout his class and you kept your fingers busy, writing down his words. He was easy to understand, bringing out intricate details in his lesson, and asked questions now and then if he was going too fast while walking around the room.

You couldn’t help but notice his slacks fit in a certain area. Then again, that thing wouldn’t give you a brain cell even if you suck it off.

The bell chimed and you gathered and stuffed your notebook and pen inside your bag, jolting up to your feet. But as you approached the exit, his canorous voice called out to you.

“Pardon me, young lady.”

You turned to face the professor, keeping a respectable distance from him, which he closed off, only standing a couple of feet from you.

“Yes, sir?” You asked in a small voice when he remained silent, his eyes studying you with disconcerting intensity, just like how he gazed at you at your performance.

Finally, after an uncomfortable silence, he asked. “What’s your name?”

You spoke of your name in a steady voice, equally confused and intimidated, you gripped on the strap of your bag. Everyone had already left, now bringing quietness to the hall.

He smiled once again, his head tilting a bit to the side. “A pretty name.” His voice sent goosebumps on your skin, making you breathe in deeply, inhaling the scent of his pleasant cologne. “Such a shame I couldn’t catch it after your performance a couple of weeks ago.”

He remembered you.

Your cheeks began to burn.

Oh, how he yearned to caress your tinted cheeks, place a kiss on them, and mutter praise against your soft skin.

“Ah, you were there, weren’t you, sir?” You offered him a smile and a pause. “I think I caught a glance of you in the front rows.”

“Correct.”

“Thank you for watching, sir,” you said, not knowing what to speak of next, and nodded at him, reaching out to the knob to leave. But he reached for the door, making you blink at his unexpected actions, caged between the door and him.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off of you,” he fessed, bodies now closer to yours that you almost touched, and you gulped. “You were magnificent.” He opened the door, a hand motioning at you. “See you on Wednesday. And I hope we see more of your performance.”

We?

You jolted awake at the loud laughter of a raucous group outside of your room and grunted at the sudden pang of pain in your head when you stood up. You glanced at the alarm clock by your bedside and muttered a crisp curse, hauling your bag. You burst out of your room, slipping past students in the hallway like a breeze, hurried apologies were called out to those poor victims she bumped into.

The morning had been long and tiring, and you decided to take a nap earlier, only to end up sleeping for a couple of hours. Now, you were about to get late for your next class, and the usual ten-minute walk turned into a five-minute run and an uncalled exercise.

You glanced from left to right in the hallway, glancing at your phone to make sure you were in the right building, and turned to the right, following the signs. You halted before a room, strangely closed even though the class was supposed to start in five minutes.

You used your phone as a mirror and patted down your hair, before turning the knob and opening the door. You walked into a softly lit room and realized the mistake you had made as you spotted a man splayed down on a couch across the room. A hand behind his head and over his stomach, and over the lower half of his face was a black mask.

Inside was a personal office, belonging to one of the professors.

You immediately turned away, about to exit the room when an angry voice echoed.

“Have you got no manners?” The man rose to sit, a scowl painted on his face.

For the nth time in your sorry life, you wanted to bury yourself alive. You dipped your head low in embarrassment. “I’m very sorry, sir. I thought this was the room my class was in. I didn’t mean to intrude.” You frantically fumbled on your phone, inputting the wrong password one time, and read your schedule.

You read the room number wrong.

Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

The professor fixed his crooked mask. “What class were you supposed to go to?”

“Uh, a math class of Mr. Simon Riley,” you read on your phone, keeping your head low.

A hum escaped past the man’s lips, making you glance up at him. His dark blond hair slightly ruffled from his apparent nap and coat a bit crooked. He ran his hand on his hair, fixed his coat, and patted down the invisible wrinkles on the fabric.

He stood up and you inched back, surprised at his stature. A tall man with broad shoulders and arms noticeably strong, (massive honkers) and eyes like a pool of honey, swirling like molten gold under the light.

“You’re in luck, sweetheart. I’m Simon Riley. You’re in my office, our class is in the next room.” Unlike earlier, his cold voice had turned a bit softer, but the fact that he was your professor made your sweat run cold.

You nodded, inwardly wincing at your dumbass. “Again, I apologize, sir.”

He stood before you, next to the opened door. Gladly, there were no students passing by in the hallway.

“What is your name, love?” he questioned, his hands going to his pockets. His eyes narrowed at the way your head dipped, refusing to meet his gaze. Like a meek little bunny, scared of the world and what all those pretty eyes could see.

He wanted to place a finger under your chin and lift your face up to look at him.

You never knew introducing yourself could feel like an interrogation until now. You told him your name, averting your gaze down at his shoes that shifted slightly. “Nice to meet you, Sir Riley. I’m sorry it wasn’t under the best circumstances.”

He hummed once again and stepped out of the office. “Pleasure’s all mine."

You followed him out of the room and he swiftly closed the door behind you, his being a bit closer to you than comfort.

With a nod, Professor Riley led you to the classroom. Dozens of students had already occupied the room and you silently made your way to a vacant seat on the second row, placing your bag next to you.

Just like Mr. Price, the masked professor went straight to the point, briefly introducing himself to the crowd, and began his lesson. He, too, was easy to understand, repeating the equations some couldn't get well, and was kind enough to let the class take a few minutes of break, before continuing. You had also come to notice he would fix his mask every once in a short while.

And when the bell chimed, he bid his students goodbye, yet called for your name. You halted on gathering your things as he approached you. His eyes glanced at the students who last left the room before he spoke.

"Feel free to come by my office whenever you have a question or need anything. Can't have you lose your way again, do we?" He asked, a bit of amusement in his voice as he leaned close.

You smiled at his offer. "Thank you, sir."

Sure as shooting, you asked him where your next room was for Chemistry. By good fortune, he knew where it was and who the professor would be.

"Ah, there he is." Sir Riley abruptly came to a stop, making you halt in your tracks as well and follow the direction of his gaze, to see a man with a mohawk.

"Simon!" The man jogged towards the two of you, a grin playing on his lips in contrast to the man who never took off his mask. Another person with blue optics, but his were bluer as though someone took a piece of the briny deep and placed it in his optics.

He kept a smile as his attention swept to you. "And who's the little bird?"

You frowned a bit at the nickname, nonetheless gave him your name, and watched his eyes light up with fascination. The man began to tell the pull he felt by the notes of your music, how enamored he was by the unspoken words of your tale.

He was there, too and Sir Riley was along with them.

Your face flushed as he ranted and they both noticed, taking note of the shades painted on your skin, bashful of the sudden recognition.

"He is John Mactavish, your Chemistry professor," Sir Riley piped in, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder, before bidding his farewell at the moment, marching down to his next class.

Left all alone with Professor Mactavish, you turned to him. He grinned at you and he beckoned at you to follow him. The man was, well, talkative and wasted not a second expressing his applause of your performance and how he never expected to see you in the university.

You could only mutter small words and nod, already feeling exhausted. But it was pleasant to hear him compliment you. You could get used to it.

And you could get used to his enthusiasm for teaching. His first lesson went straight to an experiment and dragged you to his side as his assistant, instructing you to mix chemicals. Occasionally, his fingers brushed over yours as you passed vials.

Your eyes met, and sparks flew all around.

Literal spark.

And fire.

Professor Mactavish pulled you to the side, hand remaining on your arm as the chemicals were set ablaze.

With a couple of ticks of the clock, a giggle erupted from your lips and like there was a pull, his chuckles followed.

In the sea of awes, his laughter floated on the surface.

You sprinted on the hall, navigating through the winding routes of the structures, and arrived at one of the most exquisite auditoriums you had ever set eyes on. Your eyes took in the magnificent chandeliers and the divine paintings stretched across the ceiling.

The sound of a throat clearing pulled you from your stupor.

“Are you just going to stand there?” a voice called for your attention to where he stood near the stage. The man basked in the warm glow of the concert hall, skin as though molten caramel, and eyes like embers.

“Oh, forgive me, sir.” You straightened yourself up like a soldier before a superior. “I was just, well, this place is beautiful.” You couldn’t help but glance around once again.

“Isn’t it?” A soft smile crawled its way to his lips and he approached you. “I am Mr. Garrick and you are . . .” your name rolled out of his tongue like a serenade, gentle to the ears, a sight to see the way his lips moved, and he extended a hand to you.

You clasped it gently before realization dawned on you. “Pardon me, Garrick as in the Kyle Garrick?”

In a flash of a moment, something sparkled in his eyes and searched yours. “Yes, it is me.”

You nearly squealed and ran around the room in excitement. “Oh my God. Wow. I-I’m a huge fan, sir. You were such a huge inspiration to me—and, and, I wished I could have watched your performance at the concert before, but I was busy preparing for mine. Oh, that must be why Mr. Price, Mr. Riley, and Mr. MacTavish were there! You are friends!” Your words tumbled out of delight.

"Yes, well, thank you for the kind words." His hand sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, his smile becoming wider.

You gazed at him for a few moments before you snapped out of it, your brain slapping it to your face that you just rambled in front of this gentleman. "I'm very sorry, that was unprofessional of me."

"No need for apologies. But I do want to get a feel of your play today as soon as possible." A hand landed on your back, his warmth slipping through the fabric as he led you towards the grand piano patiently waiting for you at the stage.

Your fingers itched in anticipation.

Sir Garrick gave you a comforting smile and sat on the front row seat. "Feel free to play whatever your heart desires."

What your heart desires.

With a shaky breath, once again, you began to tell a tale, the notes sounding like a human voice as it wove its sonorous song.

A ballad to tie what dream your heart made. An andante at first and increased tempo at each heartbeat.

Lightning striking and thunder howling, Kyle was consumed with the way you swayed from one note to another. He couldn't peel his eyes off you as though you had him in your grasp, a puppet for you to control. And only when the last of the music hung in the air, could he snap free of the strings.

He walked towards you and dropped to his knee, taking one of your hands in his palm. "You were truly astonishing."

"I'm telling you, she was marvelous," Kyle exclaimed, pacing around Price's office and pointing at his fellow professors. "Blimey, if only you guys were there the other day, you'd feel chills."

Simon kept a straight face as he sat on the couch, legs spread, his knees bumping with Johnny who took a seat beside him, sipping from his mug of coffee. Whilst, Jonathan inclined on his chair behind a mahogany desk, decorated with intricate carvings and souvenirs he had gathered as they traveled across continents.

"I get that you're delighted, but could you quiet down?" Price grumbled on his desk, a pang of pain shooting his head.

"No, I am not shutting up." Kyle raised a hand, shaking his head. "She recognized my name. My name.” He pointed at himself.

“Anyone would recognize your name if they’re yer fan or hater,” Johnny quipped and placed the mug down on the coffee table.

Kyle turned to him. “You don’t get it, mate. She said she’s a fan of mine. I was a huge inspiration to her—”

“Was a huge inspiration to her,” Simon echoed, leaning back against the couch. “Used to be, not anymore.”

Kyle glared and stomped towards the masked man, grabbing his collar when the other merely raised his brows in a challenge. “I swear to God, Simon, I swear to—”

“I swear to God if you three don’t shut the fuck up—” Price paused, straightening himself from his chair as Kyle shook Simon, and glared at them— “I’ll have you asinine blokes chopped into bits!”

Kyle let go of Simon, who simply fixed his crooked collar and tie, and raised a brow at the man behind the desk. He sat down on a vacant chair, his eyes not leaving Price, and asked, “Are you jealous she recognized me, Price?” he was answered with another glare, which he shrugged at. “Or not.” He definitely is.

For a few moments, they sat in silence, each lost in their train of thought. All centered on a certain lady, whom they had watched from afar, now within their grasp. They only acted as though it was their first time meeting you.

Each born to a wealthy family, presented interesting things which soon died down as they broke them down into pieces, they had grown bored. And had found that there were only a few they could put their trust in this world. Though not related by blood, they shared everything since they were younger. They knew one another strengths and weaknesses. Their faults. Their passions.

Their desires.

A knock pulled them out of their reveries.

Johnny being the closest to the door, got up and opened it. A smile was brought to his face as he found you. “Hello, bonnie. C’mon in.” He swung the door open, a hand motioning at you.

You hesitantly stepped in as you saw your professors inside the office, eyes all settled on you. You put a hand on your other arm to hold down your nervousness as the door behind you shut.

Four men who were strangely overly friendly to you. You could think of a couple of reasons. The first being a musician they had watched and the second, being their student.

A hand landed on the small of your back, guiding you further in, making your face flush. “Have a seat,” Sir MacTavish waved a hand at the sofa, where he and Simon sat. 

You kept your gaze low as you obeyed him, sitting between him and your math professor, red cheeks going in a deeper shade as you met Kyle’s gaze. Embarrassed, you finally faced Price, and asked, “What is it that you called me for, Professor?”

Price put his elbows over his desk and intertwined his fingers. “We have a proposition for you . . .” Your name rolled sensually out of his tongue.

The proposition was to be their assistant. Given their overlapping schedules these days, it was hard for them to handle them. At first, you refused the offer, telling them you had a part-time job to do, along with practicing your skills in piano. But they had already thought about that and said they could pay you for your work.

A tempting proposal. Perfect for a student like you who got into this prestigious school through a scholarship.

You tapped your pen on the table and heaved a sound sigh, slouching on the chair. You were in a cafe near the school, in an attempt to change the atmosphere and help you write a report for Sir MacTavish's and Sir Price’s classes, but it didn’t seem to be helping at the moment. A pleasant music came from your earphones to block out the background noises and you closed your eyes to lull yourself.

When you opened your eyes, you jolted up your seat. “Shit!” your hands immediately flew to your potty mouth and straightened your spine at the sight of one of your professors, Simon, across the table. “Ah, uh, I’m very sorry, sir. I didn’t notice you—”

“Why do you apologize so often?” his rough voice was low and he placed a cup of tea on the table. His eyes landed on your notebook, full of notes, written clean as though it was printed.

You pursed your lips, unable to think of an answer, and ran your tongue over the soft flesh, catching Simon’s attention. “I . . .”

Simon glanced around the empty cafe, the only other person within the area was the staff over the counter, who kept her eyes on her phone. And you had perfectly picked a secluded spot. He looked back at you and reached out a hand, placing it under your chin. He lifted your face to bring your eyes to his.

Your heart raced at his actions.

“An angel as brilliant as you are should carry yourself with confidence, sweetheart.” His thumb caressed your lips. “Perhaps, we could teach you that.”

Your lips parted at his touch, warmth pooling at your stomach. You knew this was strange—wrong, and yet you didn’t want him to stop.

But he let go and leaned back, and you found yourself gripping on your thigh. “Have you thought of our proposal last week?”

You nodded, clearing your throat. “I have, sir.”

“What do you say?”

“The offer is good, and I don’t think it will clash with my schedule under normal circumstances, either.” You paused, letting him wait for your answer as you gazed into his caramel eyes. “I’ll take it, professor.”

You were fond of puzzles. You were interested in mysteries. And you were drawn to danger.

Being their assistant had more perks than you initially thought it was. You talked with them about their terms and added some of yours, and they seemed to be pretty considerate about it.

Maybe, a bit too much.

You had moved to an apartment they got you, so you wouldn’t be distracted by your roommates. When you had breaks, they would call you to their offices and give you desserts and snacks.

And more often than not, their touches lingered, turning into hugs, caressing, and pinching when in private. To close, seemingly the start of a taboo, a risk, and yet when Professor Price had you pinned between him and Professor Garrick in his office one late night when most of the people at school had gone home, you didn't want them to stop.

You wanted the heat to rush over you, like a forest fire, unwavering.

Didn't pull back when he planted his lips on you. Didn't stop the very professor you looked up to as a musician to bunch up your skirt and grind his dick against your ass. Didn't stop even when the other two entered and Sir Price had his hand rubbing against your clothed cunt. Didn't stop when Professor Riley locked the door behind him as Sir Mactavish joined in.

Johnny’s snaked a hand around your waist, a bit harsher than the ones he’d always done, but you didn’t mind it. Not when his lips were gentle against yours, patient and exploring as he led you on his lap when he sat on your couch, stealing you from Price and Garrick. He drank on your gasp as you felt another pair of lips on your nape, dusting kisses along your flesh.

Simon breathed against your shoulder, hand grasping the swell of your breast and performed maddening massage that got your nipples pebbling under the fabric of your top. You flinched when he took them by fingers, the rolls languid, and shifted on the other man’s lap as you felt a poke underneath.

Johnny groaned against you, parting the breathtaking kiss. He removed you from his lap, only to turn you against him, now facing the professor who had shed his mask. His fingers dipped under the band of your panties, into your untouched bud and your wet folds. He rubbed with a hum, spreading your filth.

“You're so wet, hen,” he commented and inserted a digit, rubbing it against your slick walls.

Your teeth sunk to your lower lip, biting back a squeal at the sudden intrusion.

Simon placed his fingers under your chin and leaned down on you, his tongue running over your lips, something he had always wanted to do before. “Don't bite your lips. That's something we're supposed to do, yeah?” He whispered on your lips and explored your mouth, savoring the echoes of your pleasure, and left to plant his marks on your collarbones. Hands gathered your shirt and lifted it, exposing your chest to his sight.

His mouth dropped to the nipple, sucking while his hand went to work on the other. 

Johnny began to pump faster, making you throw your head back to his chest, moaning out in pleasure as you shot a glance at other professors.

“You are not so innocent after all, hm?” Price took your jaw and ran his thumb over your lips, before pushing it in, muffling your cries.

“No one's that innocent nowadays, Price,” Garrick remarked, watching the frown on your face and the flutter of your lashes at every jerk of Johnny's hand made and Simon’s tongue did. His tongue ran over his lips, hand cupping over his hard-on, palming himself through his pants.

You began to suck on Price’s finger, making his dick twitch in his pants—his brain wondering how good your mouth would feel around him. He pulled his hand away to work down on his belt and pants, hands pulling out his shaft. He gave it a few pumps, chuckling when he noticed the way your tongue ran over your swollen lips before a groan escaped from it as Simon planted a bite on your neck and Johnny's thumb began to work on your clit.

Price brought his tip to your mouth. “Open up, dove,” he demanded and grunted as he pushed his shaft in, breath hitching at the warm feeling of your tongue and your throat. Your face twisted a bit at the taste of his precum. He let you adjust for a couple of seconds, hand going to the back of your head before he began to thrust.

One of your hands flew to hold onto his hip as you let him use your mouth, eyes fluttering closed and focusing on breathing through your nose. Out of the blue, Johnny pulled his fingers out and Simon stepped away, eliciting a whine from you. Vibrations ran down Price’s body and he groaned.

Unbuckling of belts echoed in the air, and you were pulled away from Price, making him curse. The next thing you knew, you were staring into the eyes of the man you had admired for so long.

“Sir—”

Kyle put his thumb over your lips, cutting off your words. “Not sir. Call me Kyle.” He positioned his cock under your cunt, rubbing the tip on your entrance.

You gasped at the sensation. “Kyle . . .” Your jaw slacked as he slowly went in, hands pulling you closer to his clothed body, fingers running on your flesh, gentle just as how he played his instruments. 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, hands sliding down to your ass to guide you up and down on his length.

Now, he made music out of you.

It didn’t take a few ticks of the clock until they fucked you with all they had.

Simon’s cock was buried in the confines of your mouth, fingers tangled on your tresses, watching the curls of your lashes get soaked by the tears that rolled down on your cheeks as they relentlessly pounded on you—Kyle on your pussy, Price on your ass, and Johnny on your grasps. You had never felt so full, so complete.

You feel your legs shake—the sign you have reached the pinnacle of pleasure and exhaustion when Kyle hits the spot deep in you. You whined against Simon’s cock, groaning as beg for the overdue orgasm that they had been keeping from you.

You felt a hand slide down your thigh, finding your swollen clit, before the rough pads of the fingers rubbed aguishly gentle and slow. If they weren’t your professors, you would have cursed at whoever the one was doing it. But your wish had been heard and he picked up the pace until you were crying, arching your back.

But they weren’t done.

You felt Kyle and Price become rougher at each of their thrust, Simon tugging on your hair harder, and Johnny losing his rhythm on your hands, until they all pulled back, coating your skin with their cum.

You slumped on Kyle’s chest, limbs like a stringless puppet as you ride out the aftermath of your orgasm. Your heavy lids fell close, tired from the deed, but you fought back the drowsiness, not wanting to fall asleep in the state you were in.

“You did good, love,” Kyle cooed into your ear and planted a soft kiss on your temple.

Johnny leaned down and pressed a kiss on your shoulder. “Yer amazing, bonnie. Can’t wait to have more of ya.”

A hand caressed your flushed cheek, swiping the transparent mix of tears and sweat. “Let’s bring you back to your apartment, dove,” Price said in a gentle voice.

Gentle fingers scraped your scalp, gaining a hum from you, must be Simon with how his fingers feel on your head. An unspoken apology about the way he tugged on your locks.

Like the sky glowing, your skin glittered in the ruins they drew up. A masterpiece you were, vulnerable, vincible in their sight, like walls that had fallen. And yet as though a book which held thousands of words, they still had more things to know about you. 

Like every start of a relationship. How fortresses were made. Each beginning of a story. 

You basked in the echoes of their praise, letting their words bring you comfort and slowly help you regain your mind and strength.

Like after a fire, new maps were drawn. A new tale was written, with them, who swallowed a star.

Taglist: @itsyellow

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Professor!Y/n: Good morning honey how’s your head?

College!Wanda: Where am I? This bed is way too comfy to be my dorm

Professor!Y/n: You were way too drunk to take yourself home, plus you were clung to me like a spider monkey *laughs*

Wanda: Great great so just completely embarrassed myself, I didn’t do anything else did I?

Y/n: Hmm besides trying to climb into my plunging neckline on my dress? You tried kissing me but I was a gentleman and refused your advances

Wanda: Oh I’m so sorry! I promise I didn’t mean too-

Y/n: Shh honey it’s fine, you were very talkative too *winks*

Wanda:…What do you mean?…

Y/n: Oh you know just telling me how hot I was and how you’d like me to wear the blazer and nothing else and to mark you on how well you were-

Wanda: Nope! I’m remembering everything I said, I’m gonna go if that’s okay

Y/n: It’s okay Wanda, you stay here I’ve got a couple of meetings today, give you a few hours to get sorted and leave if you wish

Wanda: Cool cool thanks

Y/n: You’re welcome *kisses her forehead*

Wanda blushing hard: Okidokie

Y/n: Adorable

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

My idea is Professor Evans is your secret Boyfriend and he is talking to you after class and your wearing something cute yet sexy around him and he doesn't like how the other guys look at you in it so he punishes you for being his bad little girl.

here is a pic for inspo

Only For Me To See » Chris Evans (AU)

Pairings: College Professor!Chris Evans x College Student!Female Reader

Summary: Chris makes it very clear to you that your outfit is only for him to see by showing you who you belong to.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, age gap (reader is in her early to mid 20s), secret relationship, jealousy, kissing, hickeys, unprotected sex, sir kink, praise kink, light spanking, slight orgasm denial, pet names

A/N: Thank you for requesting @cevansbaby-dove 🩵 thank you for the picture inspo too😉🩷

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

Chris didn’t like the idea of you wearing an outfit that’s cute and sexy around other guys. You wore something cute, but sexy to class today. You wore a skirt with a sweater you just bought. You took the sweater off about halfway through class, because you got hot. You had a plain white tank top on underneath it. Jealousy was coursing through his veins. Chris doesn’t like the idea of other guys looking at what’s his. He tried his best to push the jealousy aside so he can teach.

“Y/N, meet me in my office in 5 minutes.” Chris says to you at the end of class.

“Yes, sir.” You replied softly with a smile.

A couple girls who are in one of your classes gave you a wink as you walked in Chris’s office.

“You wanted to see me, Professor Evans?” You asked, closing the door behind you.

“Yes.” Chris stood up from his desk chair. “Lock the door.” He says.

You didn’t question it and locked the door. You walked over to his desk, standing in front of it.

“Is this about my essay?” You asked.

“No. Your essay is excellent.” He answers. “This is about what you’re wearing.” He says, his voice sounding a little low.

You frowned and looked down at your outfit, wondering what’s wrong with it.

“I think it’s cute.” You say.

“It is.” He replies, walking around his desk with his hands in his pockets. “It’s also sexy.” He says.

“What’s wrong with that?” You asked with a pout.

“Nothing at all. Except…” He took a step closer to you. “Guys kept looking at you.” He says.

It didn’t take you long to realize what this is about. Chris is jealous.

“What’re you gonna do about it?” You asked seductively.

Chris chuckled lowly and leaned down to your height, his lips next to your ear and his beard poking your cheek.

“I’m gonna punish you.” He whispers in your ear.

A shiver went through your body. Chris took off his glasses and put them on his desk before kissing you. You moaned against his lips. He moved you towards his desk and pulled his lips away from yours. He spun you around and bent you over his desk so your ass was sticking out towards him and your elbows were on his desk.

He lifted your skirt up so it was bunched up above your hips and pulled down your panties, revealing your wet pussy to him. Your panties were pooled around your ankles. He then landed a harsh smack on your ass cheek. You jolted forward a bit and squeaked at the feeling. Chris leaned over you, his chest against your back and his bulge against your ass.

“Here’s how this is gonna work…” Chris said softly in your ear. “You’re going to take your punishment like a good girl and you’ll address me as sir. Understood?” He says.

“Understood, sir.” You say submissively.

“Good girl.” He praises softly.

His hand rubbed the curve of your ass and gave it another spank. You hissed softly at the sting, but it felt good at the same time. A tingle shot through your body when you heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled. That excited you even more.

You gasped when he rubbed his cock against your pussy, getting it wet with your slick. Your nails dug into the wood of his desk when he slid his cock in your pussy. Chris gave you a moment to adjust to his size before he started thrusting. You bit your bottom lip to keep your moans quiet so no one knew what you two were doing in his office.

“You wore this outfit to make me jealous, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Chris asks.

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.” You answered mischievously.

Chris chuckles lowly. He knows you wore the outfit to make him jealous by having other guys looking at you.

One of his hands grabbed a handful of your ass cheek while the other one found its place on your hip. Chris admired the position you’re currently in. Bent over his desk with your panties around your ankles and him fucking you. That image is forever burnt into his brain and he absolutely loves it. Chris leaned over you, his chest against your back and his lips near your ear.

“You’re supposed to be a good girl and not show off what’s mine.” Chris almost whispers in your ear.

“I’m always a good girl.” You whimpered.

“You weren’t today. You were showing other guys what’s mine. You know I don’t like that.” He says.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized in a whine.

“It’s too late for sorry, sweetheart. Now, be a good girl and try to be quiet.” He says lowly.

He kissed just below your ear, making you almost moan out loud. His cock was hitting all of the right spots. You felt like you were gonna go crazy without moaning his name loudly. If you did, people outside of his office would hear what you two are doing and neither of you wanted that.

“I won’t do it again, sir.” You promised, followed by a soft moan.

“Won’t do what again?” Chris asks when he already knows the answer to that question.

“I won’t wear an outfit like this to class again.” You tell him.

“Good.” He hums. “Now…” He reaches a hand around to the front of your body and slides it down to your clit. “Take my cock like a good girl.” He says.

You gasped when you felt his fingers press against your clit before he started rubbing it in a circular motion. Soft breathy moans left your lips. Your nails dug into the wood of his desk, leaving scratches mark lines on it.

Both of you know that you won’t last long when he rubs your clit. Sometimes you can cum just from him rubbing it. This time is one of those times. You could feel your orgasm slowly building up. Your pussy squeezed around his cock when his fingers applied more pressure on your clit as he rubbed it.

“I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that.” You managed to say without moaning, referring to the way he was rubbing your clit.

“No.” Is all Chris says.

“But-” You were cut off when his hand smacked your ass, causing you to stop talking.

“I said no.” He repeats.

You huffed and whimpered. You should’ve known better than to huff at him, because the next thing you know, his hand is on your shoulder and he pulls you up so your back was against the front of his body. His fingers stopped rubbing your clit momentarily.

“Do you want to cum or not?” Chris asks in your ear.

“I want to cum.” You say with a small whimper.

“Then stop giving me an attitude or you’re not gonna cum.” He says.

“Yes, sir.” You say submissively.

“Good girl.” He praises.

He bent you back over his desk and started rubbing your clit again. He sped up his thrusts. You bit your bottom lip and moaned when his cock hit your sweet spot. Your orgasm built up even more. You felt like you were going to cum any second due to how good Chris is fucking you and his fingers rubbing your clit.

“Sir, I’m- fuck!” You moaned softly. “Can I cum please?” You begged. “I’m being a good girl.” You say.

“Looks like you are.” He said. “Cum for me, sweetheart.” He says.

Your eyes rolled to the back over your head as you came on his cock. Chris fucked you through your orgasm. He gave your clit one last rub before focusing on his own. He wasn’t too far behind you. Both of his hands found their way to your hips, holding them with a tight grip.

“Fuck…” He moans lowly.

He came inside of you, painting your walls with his cum. His thrusts came to a slow stop. Chris leaned over you, putting a hand on his desk just above your head. You two stayed in this position for a moment while you guys caught your breaths.

After a moment, he pulled his cock out of you and put it back in his boxers. He buttoned and zipped his pants, along with buckling his belt. You pulled your panties up and readjusted your skirt.

You turned around to face Chris, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands found their way back to your hips and pulled you against him. He dipped his head down and kissed you. You moaned against his lips, feeling a little bit of roughness in the kiss. He then moved his lips down to your neck. You tilted your head to the side to give him more access. You moaned softly when you felt his teeth bite your skin hard enough for a hickey.

“Now everyone will know you belong to me.” Chris whispers in your ear, sending a shiver through your body.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

-Bucky’s Doll

[darylssunshine]

Teacher's Pet

Summary: You ask for a bit of help with your assignment. You end up getting some extra credit.

Genre: filthy smut hehe

Professor x Student!AU

Word count: 4.2k

A/N: i think college is corrupting me guys

You scowled and the rubric paper that had been placed in front of you twenty minutes ago. You sighed and put your head in your hands, leaning your elbows on the desk. Written in bright red ink in the top right corner:

65%.

Engineering had always been the career that you aspired to have. You felt that you were qualified for all of the other classes that the degree had required you to take, but you did not feel this way about your Beginner Woodworking class. The assignment was to make a simple tool caddy, but you could not get the hang of any of the simple techniques the class required you to use for projects. The walls weren't sanded correctly and the edges were jagged and uneven. It almost made you feel bad for the professor that had to meticulously grade it. 

The professor, Mr. Dixon, had been perplexing to you since the first class a couple weeks ago. He was dressed in a professional-looking gray polo, tucked into black dress pants and black glasses framing his face. His brunette hair was wavy and fell down to his shoulders, normally shaped into a loose man bun to get rid of the factor of it being a safety hazard. But, he juxtaposed his white-collar demeanor with a straight from Georgia southern drawl, complete with incorrect grammar and a heavy usage of the word “ain’t.” He taught the class like it was second nature, answering every question that came his way. 

But even with his calm nature, you still struggled. Not just with your low level of expertise, but with the way he looked at you during lectures. 

You were sure that you were just being naive, but you couldn’t help but notice the little side glances he gave you with a slight smirk that could get him any girl he wanted. This made you attentive to other things, like the way his bulging arms looked underneath the bright overhead lights of the workshop. The way he gestured to the whiteboard with veiny hands that looked to be twice the size of yours. The way his gravelly voice consistently sent shivers down your spine, and when he gives you praise for answering a question right in class, you thought about the comment all day, wondering what that praise would sound like in other scenarios. 

This is the reason why you had to hype yourself up to ask him for help. You felt a little embarrassed that it took you this long to simply ask your professor a question, but at least this was a night class and everyone else had gone home. So if you made a fool of yourself in front of your hot professor, you would only be a little mortified. 

You sighed to yourself and lifted your head up to look at his desk in the far left corner. He was dressed in the same pants and glasses from the first class, but instead of a polo, he sported a more casual untucked black sweater, the sleeves rolled up to show his delicious forearms. He had also let down his bun, letting his locks cascade down his face, occasionally flicking his head to the side to get a strand out of his eyes. He was lazily leaning back in his chair, holding a packet of paper with one hand, and casually twirling a pen with his other hand. It must’ve been lesson plans for next week, considering his tongue that slightly stuck out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. You definitely thought it was cute.

After much contemplation, you finally slid out of your chair and slowly made your way to his desk. He was alerted by your approaching footsteps, so he put both the pen and paper down in front of him on the desk and relaxed further into the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. That action caused his pectorals to be pushed up, and you fought hard to keep your eyes glued to his sapphire ones.

“Mr. Dixon?” You asked tentatively.

His eyebrows perked up at the sound of his name. “Hm? I saw ya sittin’ over there for a while. Whatcha need, darlin’?”

You had to pause for a second.

It's just a common southern nickname. Don't make this weird. Just ask the damn question.

“Yeah I was just coming up here to see if I could get some sort of extra credit? I'm really not happy with the grade I got on the caddy assignment- I'm sorry I haven't been getting a hang of the techniques. If you give me something else to do, I promise I'll work hard and not do such a shitty job and-”

He cut you off with a slight raise of his hand combined with a light chuckle. “Woah, woah, slow down sweetheart, yer ramblin’.” 

That simultaneously made you calm down and caused your heart to race. 

He sat up slightly in his seat and pushed up his glasses. “How ‘bout this. I help ya make a simple cuttin’ board, and if you get all the techniques down, I'll give ya an 85 on tha’ caddy assignment. That sound fair?”

Honestly, you were ecstatic with his response. You had never expected him to say yes to your extra credit proposal, let alone him offering to personally help you with said project.

“Oh! Well, that would be very nice of you. Thank you, Mr. Dixon!”

He hit you with another smirk as he stood up and leaned on the side of his desk. “Ya don't have to keep up with all the professional shit. Call me Daryl. Now go on and grab one a those short planks a wood over there.” He motioned with a flick of his head to a table about ten feet away that had a bunch of leftover planks of wood from different students and projects sitting on it. 

You turned to the side because you felt your cheeks heat up from him wanting you to call him by his first name. “Okay, Daryl.” You said, sounding amused but also sheepish.

You picked up a decent sized plank and turned to walk back. You were met with Daryl grabbing two pairs of safety glasses from his desk and meeting you by the table saw. He handed a pair to you and you thanked him quietly.

He even made safety glasses hot. 

“I don't wanna risk going blind so I can't see my favorite professor.” You chuckled nervously at your poor attempt at flirting. He simply rolled eyes and huffed out a laugh.

“‘Kay. What I think yer mainly doing wrong is yer not goin’ slowly enough when cuttin’ yer wood, gives you those ugly, uneven edges. So. it's really important that ya go slow an’ ease into it.” 

That comment made you think of other scenarios, but you pushed it out of your mind and nodded along. You needed that 85%.

With a flip of a switch, the table saw spun to life, and you gripped it firmly on both sides so they didn't slip, something that Daryl was very vocal about in the first class. You held it in position to cut it in half to make it cutting board size, but you briefly halted your movement when you felt Daryl step behind you, presumably to see if your cuts were precise. Not for the reason you hoped, at least. 

“Remember, (Y/N), go slow. Take yer time.” His mouth was tantalizingly close to your ear, just enough so you could hear what he was saying over the buzz of the saw. Not only that, but his hands had traveled to the back of your arms to grip and hold them in place. Your breath hitched, but you remained focused, the loud whirring of the sharp saw snapping you out of your foul thoughts.

When you had finally guided the saw through all of the plank, you repeated the process with the corners, giving two of them a semi-rounded edge. Daryl released the grip he had on you to flip the switch to the “Off” position. He put the glasses up on his head, looked at the plank of wood in your hands, then back up to you.

“Better than th’ last thing ya made. Good job, sunshine.” He punctuated his sentence by taking the safety glasses off your face with a calloused hand.

You tried to keep your cool, but you let a stutter slip with that nickname combined with the sudden physical contact.

“Th… thank you, Mr. D- I mean Daryl. Sorry.” You let out a timid laugh, utterly intimidated while underneath his piercing gaze. You were met with another deep laugh that made your heart flutter.

“Yer good, (Y/N). Now go over to that empty table where the grit paper is. Ya need to sand it down. Don’t want ya gettin’ splinters.”

You did as you were told and strode over to the table that was free of any wood chips, with Daryl following suit. Taking the grit paper into your hands, you began sanding the left corner of your board, making sure that there were no jagged edges that could poke someone. You had expected Daryl to come into your field of vision, maybe he was about to suavely lean on a nearby cabinet that was next to the table to keep up the small talk.  But to your confusion, you still felt his presence standing behind you. You didn’t question it. Maybe he was just checking his phone before continuing to critique you. 

You had just finished sanding down the first corner of your board when you felt two hands grab your waist from behind, along with hot air hitting your neck. 

“I can see what yer doin’, (Y/N.)”

You went rigid. Your hands stopped their sanding movement. You’re pretty sure you stopped breathing for a moment. 

“Ya really think I don’t see the way ya look at me in class? So fuckin’ obvious.” His voice had taken on a new tone, one that you had never heard before in the several weeks you had his class. It was darker. Deeper. Hungry. You let out a pitiful, quiet whine at the sound alone as you put down both the wood and the grit paper.

Signaling he had heard your soft noise, he began to kiss and suck at your neck, and you could feel him smirking deviously against your skin. “I’m right, aint I? M’ voice doin’ somethin’ for ya, darlin’?” He rumbled the nickname right next to your ear and got back to working at your neck, sucking hard enough to bruise the skin, some already turning shades of purple. You nodded sporadically at the clearly rhetorical question, and breathed a small “yes.” 

His teeth lightly tugged at your earlobe, then he purred, “Turn around. Wanna look atcha.” Wanting to fulfill his every whim, you immediately flipped around to meet his carnal gaze, leaning your butt against the edge of the table to try and steady your wobbly footing. It wasn’t working. 

And he must’ve noticed, with the way he cockily raised an eyebrow while looking you up and down.

You're brows then furrowed in confusion when he turned to the edge of the table to where an armless wooden chair was sitting. He stepped over to the chair, easily picking it up with one arm while the other hand removed his glasses and placed them on the nearby table. He set the chair down a couple feet in front of you with a thunk. Sliding into the seat, he lazily spread his legs and set both his palms on his inner thighs, eyes half-lidded. 

"I can tell yer knees are ‘bout to buckle, doll. C'mere and sit down." He beckoned you with two fingers, and again, you instantly followed his command like he had put you in a lust filled trance.

“Okay, Daryl.” You simply put it, not currently having the brain function necessary to come up with a more coherent response. You cautiously walked over to where Daryl was manspreading and swung one of your legs over to the other side so that you were straddling him. It took everything in you not to start grinding on his half hard cock.

“Y’know, yer good at doin’ what yer told.” You could feel his hand slowly snake around your throat and applying pressure, his way of demanding your attention.

“I think ya deserve a reward.”

Another whine spilled out of you, followed by a desperate, “Please.” Your hands looped around the back of his neck and settled on the back of his head to tug at his brunette locks. You were desperate for more of his touch. For him to be as close as he possibly could. 

“Tha’ why ya stuck around till the end of class? Hm? Ta let me have my way with ya? I know it wasn't just ‘cause a that fuckin’ caddy.” His mouth ticked up in a triumphant smirk, knowing exactly what your sinful intentions were. His hand trailed up your thigh up to barely graze the place you wanted him most, all while keeping eye contact. You let out a pitiful groan and involuntarily started grinding softly.

He chuckled and disconnected his hand, settling it on your inner thigh. “So needy fer me already.” He rumbled in your ear in the same hungry manner he started with. 

With his large stature, he was basically eye to eye with you, even with you straddling on top of his lap. In this case, you were on top only in technical terms. Daryl was truly the one who was leading and in control.  

You squeaked out something resembling an “mhm” combined with a nod before ungracefully crashing into his lips. It was as if he had lit a fire inside of you, and the heat was reaching every part of your body that made contact with him. Another chuckle vibrated through your mouth, and it only made you more antsy. Daryl ran his tongue along your bottom lip, and you eagerly granted him access. Both your tongues were in a battle for dominance, and you were losing fast. Your hands were tangled in his hair and tugging lightly, and one of Daryl’s hands was on your hip, while the other was cupping your chin, seemingly to keep your head in position. It was wet, clumsy, and carnivorous. You couldn’t get enough.

But eventually, you had to pull back to get the oxygen that your lungs craved. Keeping your foreheads connected, you hungrily stared into his eyes while releasing rapid breaths, not currently having the energy to wipe away a small trail of drool that had run down your chin. His hand was still planted on the side of your face, and he used it to push it away from his forehead and to wipe the trail of drool away with his thumb, purposefully making the motion slow and teasing, gliding the pad of his thumb over your lips.

Suddenly, he grabbed your ass with both hands and harshly pushed you forward more onto his lap, and you gasped when you felt his full erection in his pants. He huffed out a laugh, enjoying the reactions he was getting out of you. 

“Ya feel what yer fuckin’ doin ta me, girl?” He practically growled, the grip on your ass tightening while moving his hips up. This caused you to start consistently grinding softly, your breath turning into hushed moans due to the added friction. When he raised his eyebrows at you while huffing out rumbly breaths, you braced yourself by locking your hands around his neck.

He trailed his hand back to your groin, pressing harder on the clit and enjoying your squeaking and harsh gasps.

“You want this, hm? Want me ta fill ya up and fuck ya till ya can't think no more?” The continuous rubbing of your clit combined with his accent getting thicker had you speechless, the only thing coming out of your mouth being a whine, while you placed your forehead on his shoulder, overwhelmed with pleasure.

But your head was immediately and forcefully raised when Daryl lightly tugged on your hair, making you lock eyes with him. “I need words, darlin’.” His voice was coated with lust, but also combined with genuine care for you and your well being, wanting to know if you really wanted this.

You locked eyes with him, letting him know you were sincere. “Yes. Please, Daryl. Need you.” Your sentences were broken, but it was enough to get your point across. 

He then leaned in to plant another kiss on your lips, but stopped a couple inches from your face. 

“Tha's my good girl.”

Your eyes could've rolled back right then and there. 

Hungrily, you latched back onto his lips, unhooking your hands from his neck to take off your baggy shirt, only disconnecting your lips from his long enough to pull it fully off over your head. You could feel his lips tick upwards at your needy actions. And as soon as he felt one of your hands grasp and tug at his collar, he followed suit, revealing his toned chest. You pulled away to marvel at the sight, your eyes going wide. You had only seen that chest in your dreams and now it's right in front of you. Shuffling down in the chair and leaning back, he teased, “Ya like what ya see, sweetheart?”

Another breathless “mhm” left you as Daryl started marking up your neck again working at the clasp of your bra. Once he got it unhooked, he immediately latched his mouth to your nipple, rolling the other with his fingertips. You yelped in surprise, but it quickly turned into soft moans from the stimulation. 

He embraced you yet again, nipping at your lips, drawing out a surprised yelp that morphed into a moan. Soon, your moans got heavier as you felt his hands lift from your waist and you heard the high-pitched clattering of a belt buckle being undone. He lifted himself up to his pants down to a little above his knees, and you pulled back to shamelessly stare at the act. He had already started impatiently stroking himself.

In response, you ogled a bit more before shimmying your pants and underwear down to your upper thigh, Daryl watching with an unbroken gaze, grunting softly. His eyes then traveled down to his inner thigh that your cunt was currently riding, his mouth ticking upwards again.

“So fuckin’ wet for me already.” He trailed his free hand up to the back of your neck. 

“Want you to fill me up, Daryl. Please. Been thinking about it all day.” Thoughts tumbled out of you with no filter, eager to feel his length inside of you.

He put two fingers to your slit, barely grazing the inside to tease you as much as possible. “Then get to ridin’, doll. Wanna teach ya a fuckin’ lesson.” You fought back a pitiful whine, a fast paced breath leaving your mouth in its wake.

Bracing yourself with your hands placed on his broad shoulders, you lifted yourself up, but stuttered your movement when you felt his already leaking tip touch your lips, intimidated by his size. Daryl cocked an eyebrow. 

“Wha's wrong, sunshine? Thought ya were thinkin’ bout me all day.” He teased. You playfully rolled your eyes, both from the sarcasm, and a little from the pleasure. 

Cautiously, you lowered yourself onto his length with a ragged breath. Daryl grunted at the squeezing contact and gripped the side of your hip in response, guiding you down. It took you a minute to adjust to his size, slightly grimacing from the lack of him stretching you out first. He noticed you taking your time and spoke up. “Y'alright? We can stop if y'wanna.” Your heart fluttered at him voicing his concern. 

“M'fine. Just had to adjust.” You said between deep breaths, looking into his eyes to make sure he knew you were genuine. 

Your legs moved up and you hooked your feet over his knees to easily move up and down, thanking your past self you put on a flexible material this morning. You tested the waters and moved up and down at the slow pace, and moments after moans started crawling out of you, getting lost in the feeling.

“Y'like that, sweetheart?” Both of his hands snaked over to your hips, rubbing his thumbs over your exposed skin. You could only muster an almost imperceivable nod.

“Then you best hold on, cowgirl.” 

Your brows furrowed and you squeaked out a questionable hum. 

The hum suddenly turned into a yelp as Daryl took your hips and guided you down in a swift motion, taking in almost the entirety of his cock as he bucked upwards. He did this at a consistent and steady pace, all while connected his lips to that sensitive spot on your neck. The moans that ripped through you were damn near pornographic, the sinful sounds of skin slapping echoed throughout the large work room. His name rolled out of your mouth like it was second nature.

“Fuck, feels so- feels… so good Daryl… fuck-” You breathed. A rumbly groan left him at the feeling of your tightness combined with hearing your pleasurable expletives. Teeth grazed your neck as he left marks all the way down to your clavicle, creating a trail of wet kisses and saliva down to your right nipple. He lightly sucked and bit on the sensitive flesh, rolling and teasing the other with his fingertips.

One of your hands was on his shoulder to ground yourself and have some stability, while the other was tugging desperately at his luscious brown locks. You were almost worried you were hurting him when he bottomed out and reached your g-spot, pulling his head in ecstasy. He moaned, but you had a feeling that it wasn't in discomfort.

“Bet y've been thinkin’ bout this fer weeks, huh?” He growled next to your ear in an accusatory manner, his breaths labored. “Gettin’ fucked by yer teacher all out in the open. Dirty little whore.” You felt your earlobe get harshly tugged by his teeth.

You didn't even have to think when you rambled out, “Yes… yes, Daryl. I have, I- fuck- I'm your whore. Only yours. Only yours.” He growled in approval, and somehow pounded into you at a more relentless pace. A familiar tightness in your core began to materialize, a feeling that only ever came to fruition in the dark nights of your dorm room, moans of his name getting muffled by the pillows beneath you. 

“Fuck… ‘m close-” You slurred, your mind turning more and more to mush by the minute. Daryl was too, signaled by his thrusts getting sloppier and jerky. 

“Cum on m’ cock, sweetheart. Wanna make a mess a ya.” 

His consistent pounding combined with the gruff command sent you over the edge, painting his length with your slick. The sheer force had you seeing stars, and you had to put your forehead on his to keep you from collapsing. 

Daryl wasn't far behind you, the feeling of you releasing around him being all he needed to reach his own high. With a few more pumps and a loud grunt, you felt him shoot inside of you, white and hot. A weak whine spilled out of you at the feeling.

“God damn.” He breathed out. “Yer gonna be the death of me. y'know that?”

He was met with silence, except for your ragged breaths. His brain raced with thoughts. Had he done something wrong? Was he too rough? Did he hurt you?

As gently as he could, he gripped your chin and lifted your head so you were eye to eye once more. “Y'still with me, darlin’? I didn't hurt ya, did I?” His voice was laced with concern, your well-being always being his first concern before anything else. 

A dopey smile came over you and you caressed his cheek with your palm. “I'm fine, just got a bit dizzy at the end there.” 

Pulling him in close, you stopped just before his lips. “It was perfect.” Your lips finally collided and, unlike the last kiss, this one was slow, but just as passionate. A kiss that conveyed feelings not yet spoken. Both of your lips were swollen and shiny by the time you pulled away.

He pressed a peck to your nose, then questioned, “Was I too mean? It felt too much. ‘M sorry if it was.”

“No no no! You're fine!” You assured. Suddenly embarrassed, you turned your head to the side and ducked it slightly. “That's uh… actually how I've imagined it going most of the time.” You ended your sentence with hiding your now hot face in the crook of Daryl’s neck. 

“Oh yeah?” You couldn't see it, but you sensed his cocked eyebrow and shit-eating smirk. “I'll be sure to angrily insult yer work in class more often, then.” He felt you radiating heat against his bare shoulder.

“Asshole.” That comment couldn't sound more not irritated, an audible smile being picked up by Daryl. 

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and he lightly chuckled at the feeling of you nuzzling against the crook of his neck.

“Teacher's pet.”

[rangerbarbz]

Professor Pines pt. 2

Author’s note: YALL RAHHHH I MADE THE HIGHEST GRADE IN THE CLASS ON ONE OF MY ZOOLOGY FINALS LETS GOOOOOO anyways things are slowing down for me other than i am moving into my own place!! Im so excited <3 I hope yall enjoy this!! (I just want to apologize for me nerding out over birds in this chapter) 

Summary: This is just a random day in the first week that Ford and the reader are spending in east Tennessee. They are going bird watching ayyyy 

May 21st 

You leaned over your field notebook, trying to recreate the beautiful foliage you had seen on a hike with Ford the day before. Before trying to find any mysterious creatures that lurked in the Appalachian, Ford had suggested that you both get acquainted with the area you would be studying in. This way you would be able to fully understand the habitat this cryptid called home and any adaptations it developed to flourish there. You didn’t mind it whatsoever. Wildlife had always been something you were interested in, and Ford made it so damn fun. It was a shame you never had him before as a professor. He would be one hell of a lecturer. Despite having the reputation of being an introvert, he came to life when he got to speak about his passion: science. 

You certainly weren’t as gifted in the art department as Ford was, but you were determined to finish this drawing of a flower if it was the last thing you did. You bit the end of your indigo coloring pencil as you examined your illustration. 

“Needs more purple,” you mumbled, grabbing your violet pencil and drawing streaks over the petals. You hummed contentedly. “There we go.”

“Very nice, Y/N,” Ford complimented. You didn’t know he was bent down looking over your shoulder, observing your artistic process. 

“Jesus!” you yelped, knee hitting the underside of your desk. Your colored pencils began to roll onto the floor beside you. “You scared me,” you said through laughing. 

“I seem to be good at doing that,” Ford replied jokingly. He kneeled beside you, his face now eye level with your lap. Out of your view, his eyes flickered at your plush thighs as he stood back up. He placed your pencils beside your notebook and placed a hand on the back of your swivel chair. 

He pointed to your drawing. “Is that the Bachelor’s Button we saw yesterday?” 

You smiled. “Yes, it is! How did I do?” You turned to him as he read the notes and labels that were littered around the page. 

“Looks just like it,” he answered, grinning at you. 

“Why, thank you, Ford.” You closed your notebook and turned towards him, still seated. He was now leaning against the oak drawers of the desk, his hands flat on the surface behind him. “What do you have planned today?” 

“I’m glad you asked!” He removed his journal tucked into a pocket inside his jacket and flipped through the pages. He landed on a page that had nothing on it besides the word “Birds” written in his loopy scrawl. “I thought we’d go bird watching today! I’m a little rusty on class Aves, so I thought we’d go together and see what we find.”

Yes! I would love to! Let me just-” You leaned over to the bottom drawer where Ford was standing. The drawer was shielded by his broad legs. 

“Oh, excuse me!” Ford apologized. He stepped out of the way. You pulled out a pair of binoculars and a guide for bird identifying. 

“Alright, I’m ready.” You stood up quickly from your chair. “Lead the way, Pines,” you said faux authoritatively.

He laughed. “Yes ma’am.” 

You found yourself walking down a trail where the grass had been patted down by others who had walked on it before. Trees grew on either side of you and bushes were scattered throughout the forest. It was quite peaceful. You and Ford had settled on a comfortable silence as you looked to the branches for birds. You were both trying to walk softly to avoid any twigs or leaves crunching. This came surprisingly easy to Ford despite being the tall, broad man that he is. You eventually stopped at a spot behind a shrub that had been covered in vines to gaze across an open area. 

“This should be good enough,” Ford said, placing his bag on the ground. He brought his binoculars to his eyes just as you did. “Keep an eye out for anything…unusual. You never know what you’ll find.” 

You chuckled. “Got that right.” You then turned to your left to search for any bright patches of colors that could be songbirds. After about a minute of not seeing anything, Ford brought your attention his way. 

“Look! Do you know what that is, Y/N?” he asked quietly, pointing upwards. You quickly pivoted on your feet and moved closer to him, scanning the trees with your binoculars. 

“I don’t quite see it,” you murmured, still looking for the bird in the wrong direction. 

“Here.” Ford then shifted behind you gently touching your elbows and lifting your arms into the line of sight of the bird. Your breath hitched in your throat at the contact. His fingertips were rough compared to the soft flesh of your arms. He leaned next to your ear and pointed once again, facing the sky. 

“Do you see it?” he whispered. You felt your face grow warm at the current proximity. His voice was so low and gravelly in your ear. You suddenly saw the bird he had been talking about. It was black, white, and had a bright red splotch across its chest. 

“Oh, I see it!” you exclaimed. “That’s a, uh,” you snapped your fingers, “a Rose-Breasted Grosbeak.” 

Ford smiled warmly at you. “That it is.” 

You spent an extra hour and a half taking in the scenery around you, continuing to find even more birds. It was a truly beautiful day for it. The sun was even shining just right on Ford to accentuate the silver in his hair. That’s when you remembered something. 

You then pulled a disposable camera out of your back pocket. “Ford, look at me,” you instructed, positioning the camera in front of your eye. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at you. 

“Taking a picture of you. Don’t think you can escape entering my scrapbook. Now smile.” He laughed in response to that, giving you a perfectly authentic grin. 

“That reminds me of my great niece. She loves scrapbooking. You’ll have to meet her one day.” He began to pick up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “You would get along swimmingly.” 

You giggled. “I would love that,” you responded, also picking up your own bag and putting your binoculars in it. 

You began to walk back down the trail together, recapping all of what you saw today when you spotted a raspberry bush. “Hell yes,” you said, striding over to the bush. “You want a snack, Ford?” You started to pick the berries off the plant. 

“I’m alright, but thank you,” he responded, waiting for you to get done harvesting. You walked back over to him and began to bite a berry in half. Unfortunately, this was an especially juicy one. It busted and left a red streak dribbling down your chin. 

“Dammit,” you grumbled, about to wipe your mouth with your sleeve. 

Ford frowned at you. “No, don’t ruin your shirt like that. Here let me.” His hand gently cradled the back of your head as he took the bottom of his shirt and brought it to your chin. Your eyes widened at the action and the fact you could now see Ford’s midsection. He had a muscular belly with just a little bit of pudge and a graying happy trail. Oh my God. 

His cotton covered thumb swiped below your lip, removing the juice that was there. He wasn’t looking in your eyes but instead focusing on the task at hand. His hand left the back of your head as he dropped his shirt.

“There we go,” he grinned, eyes crinkling at you. “Now, I’m the dirty one.” You knew your face had to be as red as the berry you just ate, but he didn’t mention it. It was such an innocent act of kindness, but the way you were feeling was far from innocent.

[hotchshands]

Teacher’s Pet|Professor!HotchxReader AU

Masterlist | Taglist

Synopsis: Every university student must take two university lectures before graduation, so you signed up for Professor Hotchner's lecture, Intro to Profiling. You were not by any means a Criminology major, but Professor Hotchner was hot, so you had to register for the class. You were lucky enough to get a seat in it but not so lucky, considering Professor Hotchner has a reputation for being strict, but not when it came to you. Professor Hotchner had a soft spot for you and wanted nothing more than to give you an A, which leads you to get down and dirty with the 45-year-old man.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

New chapters every other Sunday at 11:59 pm! Chapters in red are nsfw!

[amymbona]

The young english literature professor who's lectures you attend because he's genuinely the nicest person at the whole uni but he's also very very cute <3 you bet that you're gonna be discussing female and underrated writers and getting deep into all the books. He doesn't care about the study plans - fuck that - if his class wants to converse about absurd drama and act out the whole Waiting for Godot, then you are doing that. He's the kindest soul, so supportive of all his students, offering tutoring lessons after the lectures and giving his free time to his students :(

And he's kind of your best friend too, saying he loves loves loves your essays. He's aware that you're an aspiring writer, that you'd like to publish a book on your own and you bet he's doing all the corrections and proof reading. Sweet professor Donaldson :( adored by everybody <3

[buckyalpine]

Student Bucky

Shy Beefy Student Bucky x Professor Reader 

No thots, just 

He’s so smitten with his professor, always mesmerized with anything you say, gazing at you with heart eyes while you deliver your lectures. He could listen to you speak for hours, always finding a seat at the very front of the large hall so he doesn’t miss a word. 

He’s too shy to ever raise his hand and participate which is upsetting considering he’s on of the brightest students in your class. You always toss him a soft smile when you see him, adoring the little blush that follows after; it’s even worse when you compliment his papers. 

Every time he thinks about you, his mind ends up going to less than holy places and his hand finds itself down his pants. He can’t help it, thinking about your pretty body in those suits and skirts, how gorgeous you’d look spread out on your desk. You’re so brilliant and pretty and sweet and he isn’t sure how many times its been but his sheets are messy but he’s still so hard. 

He almost has a heart attack when you ask if he’d like to come on board a research project your doing. Obviously he’d never say no but your doe eyes looking up at him are too much and he can only nod in response. 

A few late nights and not so innocent touches later 

He’s so shy, he’s not even aware of how his size engulfs you under him, all his focus set on making you feel so good, giving you all the pleasure you deserve. 

“Does-does it feel good for you?” He asked timidly, biting down on his bottom lip, keeping his moans down, abs tensed from holding his body back from releasing too quickly. He can feel his cock throbbing, his orgasm already at the base of his length.

“So good baby, so so good”  You moan, your arms and legs wrapped around his body, the both of you in the middle of your large bed, all clothes tossed off, nothing separating you. “Making me feel so good baby”

The pet name makes him feral as he preens, adjusting his hips so he can fuck the very depths of your soul making you see stars. He maneuvers your legs higher up on his waist, loving the way your ankles are locked around his lower back. You let your hands wander around his body, clawing at the muscles on his back, and holding onto his biceps. 

“M’I doing okay?” He pants against your skin, hesitantly bringing his hands to lace with yours, pinning you against the mattress. All you can do is moan and nod, the tip of his cock hitting that sensitive spot just right, your arousal making a creamy mess all along his veiny girthy shaft. “Yeah? M’making you feel good?” 

“You’re-so-thick-oh God” You cry out between thrusts, gasping at the stretch while he blushes, keeping his face hidden from you.

“I am?”

You giggle at his shyness, kissing his temple, finding his soft sweetness endearing.

“So thick baby, cock stretching me so good”

“You like it?”

“So fucking good James”

“M’gonna cum” He whines out, his pace growing sloppy but he doesn’t want to stop, he wants this night to last (not realizing it was the first of many). You gasp when he pulls out and buries his face between your legs. He laps at your arousal, mixed with his precum, your sensitive cunt soaking his scruffy cheeks. 

“Wan you to cum first” He shoves two fingers into your sopping core, thrusting and curling them till your screaming, your thighs trapping him in. 

“JAMES” 

“Say-say my name” He lets out a broken moan, growling when he feels your hand tug at his roots, his eyes rolling back. “You taste so good”

“You like that sweet boy? Like when I moan your name?” Your back arches off the bed as he suckles on your swollen clit, your body convulsing as pleasure consumes you. He laps up every drop you give him, not giving you a second to catch your breath; he flips you over with ease, bringing your ass all the way up and shoves his cock back in.

“F-FUCK JA-MES” you claw at the sheets while his large hands grip your hips, slamming your ass back on him to meet his thrusts, his heavy balls hitting your throbbing clit each time.

“You feel so good, don’t wanna pull out” he moaned, throwing his head back, nearly whimpering when he feels you flutter and clench around his swollen cock, your second orgasm already barrelling towards you.

“Can-can I cum in you?” He’s asking permission but he doesn’t know if he’ll have the willpower to pull out if you said no. He’s never felt so good, his cock harder and more sensitive than ever, your pussy swallowing every Inch he gives.

“Cum in me sweet boy” you slur out, letting him man handle you, getting off on how soft and sweet he is, a stark contrast to the way he fucked like an animal.

“Cum with me” he cries out, snaking his hand around to rub your clit, letting his heavy body collapse on top of you, rutting into you, letting his cock rub against your sweet spot. “M’gonna cum so much for you, fuck”

He gives you a few more harsh thrusts before he moans loudly in the back of your neck, his hands reaching out to grab something, locking with yours.

You both lay panting in a post sex haze, his warm cum making you thighs sticky. It doesn’t take long to feel him get hard inside you again, a low rumble emitting from his chest when you clench around him. He slowly drags his cock out before pushing it back in, letting his cum squirt out onto the sheets.

“Can I?” He asks softly, between gently thrusts, wrapping his arms around you when you nod, taking his time to savour your soft body wrapped around his large one. “Don’t wanna leave, you feel so good”

“We have all night baby, all night”

[justmeinadaze]

Don't Be So Hard Part 4 (Steddie & Plus Size Reader)

Warnings: Older Dom (30s) Coach Steve Harrington/Older Dom (30s) Professor Eddie Munson & Young (20s) Fem Plus size Sub Student Y/N, SMUT, overstimulation, choking, light degrading, use of the stop light system, DP, dirty talk, lots of praise and aftercare.

ANGST, LOADED IN ANGST, *dances in angst*

This chapter begins with a meeting and people in Hawkins being shady bitches in regard to Eddie being a professor and the play the school is putting on. Mentions of Y/N's weight (so brief, more than anything is alluded to when it comes to the lingerie in the play), Mentions of what happened in chapter 1 with her assault. Martin's dad is a dick and victim blames, brings up her father and Steve's.

Steve loses control a bit with Y/N and they get into a fight. Boys get jealous slightly. Um...OH cliffhanger ending but not quite like my others. You'll see. It will make you feel things but...you'll see!

Word Count: 6138

Series here/Donate to Me

You listened quietly as you sat in the back of the auditorium, listening to the parents, faculty, and dean of Hawkins University speak. You told Eddie and Steve you would be in your dorm and asked them to call you when it was over but both men seemed so on edge all week the moment they found out about the meeting. 

The coach told you a lot of times these meetings were randomly called when parents wanted to complain about a “murderer teaching on campus” but something seemed off as the day slowly approached so you snuck in before it began through the booth entrance and waited for it to begin. 

“Ah you little troublemaker.”, Theo teased as he sat beside you. “Got a weird vibe to? Yeah, Ms. Lilah was talking about this meeting with a friend while I was at work so I got curious.”

“Alright professors and parents let’s get started.”, the dean announced trying to hush the people in the room. “Now this meeting here was called forth by some of the parents…”

“Pfft ‘called forth’.”, the boy beside you whispered as you smiled his way. 

“We’re concerned about how downhill this school seems to be going!”, one woman yelled.

“There’s a killer still teaching class, our football team keeps losing and they’re doing plays of satanic garbage now?!”, screamed another. 

“Ok, Ok! Let’s not let this get out of hand.”, the dean shouted as he sighed. 

Both your men were sitting in a corner and you could tell they were already annoyed by their demeanors alone.  

“First and foremost—”

“First and foremost, satanic garbage? Really?”, your theater teacher interrupted as she rose to her feet. “It’s a play about being yourself and—"

“By parading around half naked?”

“Oh, Mrs. Martinez, I didn’t know you were a fan of the film.”

“Pfft, we don’t watch that filth in my house. This town has enough chaos in it.”, the woman spits. 

“It does which is why I feel like these kids should be open to expressing themselves. Everyone in my play is consenting and perfectly fine with the wardrobe.”

“They may be but WE aren’t. Why would I want to see people like Benjamin Lineck and Y/N Y/L/N parading around in that attire?!”

Eddie leaned forward, prepared to say something before you see Steve bring him back. 

“What’s wrong with that? Both my students are brilliant performers and have worked hard for their parts. Why don’t you be man, Paul, and say what your real issue is? You don’t think a boy or a full-figured woman like Y/N should be ‘parading around’ in lingerie.”

“Full-figured? Really? How about—”

“Hey! Enough!”, the dean shouted trying to regain control. “We aren’t here to bad mouth students. Your concern is the material in the play which was also a concern of mine. From the scenes that I’ve seen I’m not worried and it seems Lilah here has taken great care to keep as much detail focused on the story.”

“Recast it.”

“What?”, Lilah laughed. “No way. Even the dean just said your problem is with the material not my actors. No way.”

“It seems the problem is Y/N.”, Martin’s father sighs aggressively. “She’s the lead in the play, right Lilah? She’s the reason my son was kicked off the team and we’ve been losing—”

“No, your son was kicked off my team for assaulting an innocent girl.”, Steve defended. 

Theo’s hand reached for yours and desperately seeking comfort you threaded your fingers through his. 

“He also made threats and disrespected me and another professor.”

“Your friend the murderer?”, Jared countered. 

“You know what? I’m really sick of your fucking attitude.”, Eddie growled as he stood up placing himself chest to chest with the other man. Trying to calm him, Steve placed his hand on his chest to bring him back to his seat but he just pushed against him. “You people accused me and hunted me down based on how I dress and a fucking game I play! You’re doing the same thing with Y/N and I’m not going to let you!”

“ENOUGH!”, the dean shouted so loud even you jumped and Theo ran his thumb along your skin trying to calm you. “This is my school and I WILL be heard! Now, in regard to Mr. Munson and his employment here, he wasn’t charged with a crime and is an excellent teacher to the students of this school. We have evaluations every semester and his marks are always high. This matter has been discussed at length and unless there are new developments it will not be brought up again. As for the play…I will take a vote amongst the student body and faculty and if they deem it inappropriate I will cancel the production. We already know how you parents feel. For the football team, Mr. Harrington have you found a full-time replacement for Martin Click as of yet?”

“No, sir. I didn’t want to replace him fully until your investigation was finished. I’ve been using his back up but Mr. Hunter stated the pressure from the town has been too much. He, uh, left my team last week.”

A heavy sigh left your chest at his words; he hadn’t told you that. 

The dean nodded as his eyes took in the angry faces below him. 

“Stay low, ok? And stay here.”, he whispered as Theo let go of your palm and tip toed to the aisle. “Excuse me.” All eyes turned towards the boy in the back as he waved their way. “Uh, I know I’m not supposed to be here but I may be able to help. I was a quarterback in my hometown. I never tried out because it kind of seemed like…people had their fantasy team in this town.”

“Oh yeah because this is a good first impression and who we want representing our team.”, another parent snarked. 

“Yeah but at least I don’t tear girls shirts and push them to the concrete.”, Theo shot back.

“Allegedly!”, Martin’s father yelled. 

“No, not anymore. Based on Y/N’s testimony to me and the confrontational conversation I had with Mr. Click Junior, I agree with Coach Harrington’s decision to remove him from the team and I hereby expel him from my campus.”

“What?! You can’t do that!”

“I just did. This meeting is over and everyone drive safe.”, the dean sighed as he rolled his eyes. 

Scooting back to your side, Theo waited for people to leave as he blocked you from sight with his body but unfortunately he couldn’t hide you from everyone. 

“How does it feel, Y/N? Ruining someone’s life?”, Martin’s father shouted with distain your way. “Your father would be ashamed of you.”

Your eyes widened in anger as you stepped towards him but a fist blocked you as it flew across the other man’s face. Theo straightened in front of you as Eddie held Steve back so he didn’t hit the man again. Jared spit blood to the side as he squared his shoulders. 

“I can’t wait to tell your father what you’ve been up to, Steven. I know he gave up on you a long time ago but I imagine he never fully understood how bad things could get with his name’s sake. The final nail in the coffin would be if you and the freak here were fucking but even you wouldn’t sink that low would you? Still have some standards?”

As the man spoke, Steve kept try to push Eddie out of the way to get to the man in front of him but the metalhead kept his ground. 

“Get out of my auditorium now.”, Lilah growled as she put herself between everyone. 

“Or what?”

“Try me, Jared. I have no problem taking you out but I imagine you do with me. Want to uphold that ‘reputation’ right? Your son isn’t that smart I’m afraid.”

The man huffed as he promptly turned on his heel and slammed open the doors as he left.

“Are you alright, Steve?”

“M’fine.”, the man grumbled as he flexed his hand and winced at the pain in his knuckles. “What are you bothdoing here?!”

“I talked her into coming. I had a feeling something was off—”

“You lie and defend her a lot. Are you two an item?”, Eddie snarks causing you narrow your eyes his way. 

“No, Mr. Munson, we aren’t. Theo is my friend and just helped defend me.”

Their seemingly calm but annoyed eyes racked over you but you had been with them long enough now to recognize when they were furious. At you or the situation though you weren’t sure.

“Don’t listen to what they said, Y/N, honey, ok? None of this is your fault and fuck them. You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you, Lilah.”

“Theo, why don’t you walk Y/N back to her dorm and—”

“Actually, I’m, um, going to my mom’s house but if you could walk me to my car I’d appreciate it.”

“No detours, Y/N. Just straight to the house, ok?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Munson.”

***

You knew what Eddie meant and didn’t stray as you headed to their house. After letting yourself in, you hastily got an ice pack ready before you heard a car squeak and the front door fly open. 

“…have to talk to me! I don’t like when you get silent like this!”, the metalhead shouted as he followed his boyfriend into the living room. 

“You! What were you doing there?!”, Steve shouted when his eyes found yours. 

“You both seemed concerned about the meeting so I just…I wanted to know what was going on.”

“You could have gotten in a lot of trouble if the dean or any of those other fucking people noticed you there.”

“I-I-I didn’t expect them to blame me like that—”

“Of course you didn’t, little girl, because you don’t know this town like we do!”

“Just because I didn’t have a ‘posse’ come after me before doesn’t mean I don’t know how cruel people in Hawkins can be! You think Martin Click is the only one to hurt me and make fun of me!?”

“Well, you definitely have a good amount of people protecting you.”, Eddie sassed as he folded his arms across his chest. 

“Really? I haven’t forgotten about that comment you made. Theo is my friend and he’s a good guy—”

“That fucking made out with you on my desk AND we get to see kiss you on stage constantly.”

“Oh my fucking God! I’m not doing this with either of you! I just wanted to make sure Steve was ok—”

Reaching for the ice pack you had been holding, Steve threw it hard against the adjacent wall making you jump back as Eddie’s eyes scanned him over with concern. 

“I’m fucking fine. What I’m not fine with is you sneaking around and putting yourself in danger!”

“Said one of the men who puts me in danger by being in a relationship with me!” 

You regret the words as soon as they leave your lips as his eyes darken and he straightens to his full height. 

“I’m sorry…”

“I’ll bet your fucking are.”, Steve growled before abruptly reaching forward to grab your throat. “You’re always sorry.”

“Baby, let her go.”

“She’s fine, Eddie. Right, Y/N? Tell him you’re fucking fine.”

“I’m…I’m fine…Mr. Munson.”, you responded, your voice incredibly strained with how hard the other man’s palm was wrapped around your neck. 

“Ok, sweetheart.”, he replied cautiously as his gaze shifted between you both. “You remember the word right? If you get uncomfortable…”

“Yes, sir. Ahhh!”

Guiding you to the bedroom, Steve practically pushed you the entire way and all but threw you on to their mattress. As he tried to pull down your pants, he became annoyed, tearing them with his hands before tugging them the rest of the way on to the floor. 

“Wear these fucking tight pants like a fucking slut.”, he grumbled as he roughly yanked your legs apart. “Don’t fucking cum, little girl. Do you hear me?”

“Y-Yes, Mr. Harrington.”

He was ruthless with the way his tongue flicked and sucked between your legs, bringing you to the edge multiple times before taking away your pleasure. Eddie gently propped you up with your back to his chest and you were grateful for the feeling as you pressed your sweaty forehead to his cheek. 

“You’re doing really good, pretty girl.”, the professor whispered as his palm brushed your damp hair away from your face. “Steve, how many more—”

“As many as their needs to fucking be, Edward!” The metalhead’s head ticked to the side at his name. His partner only ever did that when he was extremely upset and wanted to feel in control. “My fucking dad, this town, and those stupid fucking people think they can tell me how to be or who to fucking love? Keep your legs open, Y/N! After everything I’ve sacrificed for these people and it’s not enough.”

“You—You both are—mmm ahhhh—more than enough for me.”, you cry and Eddie kisses your cheek.

 “Oh please! Like you fucking care.”, he spits as he pushes two of his long, thick fingers inside you. “You can leave whenever you fucking want to… go off to fucking…Hollywood with your young, buff boyfriend who can apparently to it all it seems. He can keep you safe better than we can since loving you is putting you in more danger!”

You barely registered it but his partner did as his wide eyes scanned over Steve. You were too busy trying not to cum as he didn’t pull back this time but had yet to tell you it was ok. 

“Steven, stop.”, Eddie commanded in a firm tone that the other man ignored. “Red, Steve, stop. NOW.”

When the man’s fingers only slowed but didn’t completely come to halt, your professor slid out from behind you and shoved his boyfriend away from you. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

“The fuck is wrong with you?! She said she knew the fucking word, Eddie!”

“Yeah and I know you! What the fuck was that?! You tell her you fucking love her this way?! After saying she doesn’t care and that she’s going to leave us, you fucking asshole! That’s not fair to her. We can’t take her out on dates or show her off but at least us conveying how we feel shouldn’t be hidden under all the bullshit you just did.”

“Eddie…”, you sniffle as they glare each other down. “It’s ok…”

“Get the fuck out.”, Eddie commands as he points past Steve towards the door.

“This is my house to. I don’t have to go anywhere.”

Your professor steps forward and bumps his boyfriend with his chest, making him stumble backward as Eddie guides him towards the bedroom door. 

“We agreed that we’d protect her so that’s what I’m doing. I’m protecting her from you.” Steve’s eyes widened as he glanced around the room as if finally recognizing where he was and who he was with. “You don’t want to leave fine but I’m not letting her anywhere near you till you get yourself together.”

With one final shove, Eddie pushes him out into the hallway and slams the bedroom door in his face locking it tightly behind him. 

As quickly as he can muster, the metalhead lifts you into his arms and places you on the edge of the tub as he fills it with water. 

“I-I-I was doing ok. You didn’t have to stop h-h-him.”, you cry as you wipe your eyes. 

“Look at me, sweetheart. Everything is alright. You may have been able to handle it right now but sometimes Steve… goes overboard…when he’s angry. I think it comes from years of growing up with his parents but even when we fight which is rare he has a bite to his words.”

After carefully guiding you into the bath, you remain silent as you allow him to clean you and massage any part of your body he can reach. 

“I’m sorry I went to the meeting. You both seemed so worried and I couldn’t wait. I didn’t expect them to turn on me like that.”

“You’d be surprised how quick they turn.”, he sighs. “We were worried because Steve already knew the town was pissed off about their recent losing streak so he assumed they wanted to talk about what happened with Martin. I didn’t expect them to talk about your play or you like that.”

Your fingers reached out to caress his face and he smiled as he placed his hand over the back of yours. 

“Thank you for trying to defend me with his father.”

“I’m sorry for what he said about yours. Y/N, your dad would be so proud of you. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Not even with you two?”

Eddie heavily exhaled as his eyes closed and he shook his head. 

“No, baby, not even with us… what is wrong is hiding you…hiding that you’re ours and that we can protect you. Y/N, when that kid stood up for you and I saw him shield you behind him, I was glad he was there but also really fucking jealous.”

“I know. I heard it in your tone.”, you giggle as his grin widens for a moment.

“Yeah, yeah. What I mean is… I couldn’t push you behind me. I couldn’t tell those people to fuck off because you’re my girl and I’d take a fucking bullet for you. I almost died trying to save Steve and my friends and I’d do it again to save you. I don’t even need to think about it. You and Steve are safe with me and I want all of Hawkins to know that.”

Your lips tenderly find his before he helps you out of the bathtub and dries you off. 

“Eddie? Do you love me to?”

Pausing for a moment, he smirks your way and slides one of his shirts over your head. 

“You caught him saying that, huh?” After getting you into some comfy shorts, Eddie climbs into his bed with you and you promptly curl up into his side resting your head on his chest. “I’m sorry he said it like that.”, he whispers as his fingers play with your hair. “Um, what if I said that I do love you…very much…”

“I would say that I love you to, you and Steve, but that scares me. I don’t want to ruin your careers or the life you’ve made here.”

“I would probably say something back like how it scares me to but not as much as how hard I fell for you. It was the same with Steve. I wasn’t expecting to fall for him but here we are 10 years later. I—we—also don’t want to ruin your life either. You deserve all the good things, Y/N.”

“So do you.” Quietly, he continued to rub your head as you listened to his steady breathing as his chest rose and fell. “Eddie…I love you.”

Pulling you tighter to him, he tenderly kissed your forehead. 

“I love you to, Y/N.”

##################

In the middle of the night, the sound of low grumbles woke you as you opened their bedroom door and tiptoed out into their living room to find Steve asleep on the couch as he tossed and turned. 

“No…no… please…”

As he groaned, you fell to your knees beside him and tenderly moved his hair away from his face. 

“Don’t…don’t hurt her…please…”

“Everything’s ok, Steve. Shhhhhh, baby. I’m right here.”, you tried to sooth as his nose scrunched in what looked like pain. 

“Run, Y/N…Run!” With that his eyes snapped open as he shot up, panting heavily as he tried to catch his breath.

“Whoa! Hey, hey, hey. It’s ok, Steve. I’m here.”

He didn’t say a word as he forcefully pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his arms around you as he cried. You continued to pet his head as you held him to your chest, whispering comforts as you tried to calm him.

“People in Hawkins were trying to hurt you. I tried to tell them…I told them you did nothing wrong but…they wouldn’t listen… you were so scared…I couldn’t…”

Your lips kissed his sweaty forehead before trailing down his cheeks to dry his tears. 

“Steve, everything’s ok. No one’s going to hurt me but if they did I know you and Eddie would keep me safe.”

Leaning back, his large hands cupped your face as he kissed your lips. 

“I’m so sorry for yelling and taking my anger out on you. That asshole was saying all that bullshit and then he mentioned your dad and I just lost it. It made me think of Eddie and what he went through…I just felt so out of control.”

“I know, Mr. Harrington, I know.” At your words, his head hung as he pulled away but you quickly grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you again. “Use me to find your control again…both of you.”

As your gaze shifted towards Eddie who had been watching from the hallway, Steve’s lips kissed your cheek before trailing down to your neck. 

“Please, Mr. Munson...use me.”

The metalhead slowly stepped forward and descended to his knees in front of his boyfriend as you moved off his lap out of the way. Lifting his hips, Steve helped him pull down his shorts, groaning when Eddie spit over his tip and stroked it along his length.

Cupping your cheek in his palm, he brought your lips to his, lightly whimpering against them as his partner enveloped him into his mouth and bobbed his head. 

“Fuck, baby. That’s it.”, Steve mewled as his fingers threaded through his long hair. 

When his free hand lightly tugged at your shirt, you got the message and as soon as you tossed it aside he lowered his head to your breast eliciting a soft moan as his tongue swirled and sucked on your nipple. 

“Both of you…use me.”, you repeat with heavy pant as Steve grips Eddie’s throat to passionately kiss his lips before guiding him beside you on the couch as both sets of hands roam along your skin and their mouths suck at either side of your neck. “Please.”

“Sweetheart…you always say…you need time because…our cocks are too big. I don’t think you can handle that…right now.”, Eddie exhales out between each kiss of your skin. 

“But we’ve—”

“We’ve done some stuff yeah because you were curious but that’s different.”

“Please, Mr. Munson. Pleeeeeeeeease.”, you whine making Steve chuckle. 

“Yeah, Professor. Show her how it’s done.”

Eddie playfully narrows his eyes at his partner before falling back against the couch to remove his boxers. When you straddle him on his laps, out of habit, your hands run along his bare chest making him mewl as his fingers take hold of your thick waist. 

“Whenever you’re ready, princess.”

As Steve starts to stand, you quickly take hold of his shoulder and place a tender kiss on his lips. 

“I love you.”

The coach blinks a couple of times as he scans over the softness in your face. They never expected to meet you let alone start a relationship with someone they trusted so completely as to tell you their deepest, darkest secrets. While Eddie was in the hospital after their battle, he would sit beside him in the chair and imagine what a life could be with him. 

He pictured dancing at metal concerts outside of town or even screaming along to one of Eddie’s songs as he played on stage. He envisioned lying in bed with him while holding his hand kind of like he had been for the past couple of weeks except the metalhead would be smiling and laughing at something goofy Steve probably said. He imagined holding him to his chest as he slept, playing with his hair, and reminding him in every way he could think of that he was safe.

Since they started seeing you, he pictured dancing at a wedding with you in a beautiful white dress that showed off every one of your gorgeous curves while he and Eddie were in crisp black tuxes. He saw you at a game he was coaching in the bleachers with the man you both loved at your side holding a baby that looked exactly like him while they clapped their little hands at something happening on the field. 

Steve saw a future with you both he desperately wanted and would do anything he had to, to protect you both.

“I love you to, Y/N.”

Your grin grew as you focused on Eddie again, surprised when you were met with his lips. 

“I love you to, pretty girl.”

Clinging to his neck, you lowered yourself onto his cock as you whimpered at the familiar stretch. 

“I love you to, Eddie. So much…fuck.”

“There you go, baby. You got it.”, he cooed as you rolled your hips slowly. “Take your time. We have all night.”

“God, you feel so good. Is…is it going to hurt. I mean more than when we…”

“When we put the toy inside your ass?”, Eddie finished for you. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m not going to lie to you. But then it will start to feel good.”

Your forehead falls on his and he cups your face in his hands, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. 

“Did I tell you I was Steve’s first?” He smiled when you giggled and shook your head. “Oh yeah. Obviously, he had been with women before but he had never explored that part of himself.”

Lips kissed your back and the metalhead scooted his body down till his neck was leaning against the back of their sofa. Something cold made you gasp before Steve’s lube covered fingers ran between your cheeks. This part you knew from playing with them prior and your eyes squeezed closed as Eddie continued to watch your face. 

“We had been together for about three months—fuck, I could sit here for hours inside you telling you stories—and he asked me if we could try. Y/N, I swear, the way those big, beautiful eyes looked up at me…I thought I was gonna bust.”

After placing a palm on your shoulder to steady himself, your breath caught in your throat as you felt Steve’s cock lightly press against your hole.

“When I started to slide inside of him? Fuck me, baby, he was so tight I lost my fucking mind.”

As slowly as he could, the man behind you began guiding himself into your behind. Your fingers that were clinging to the base of Eddie’s neck dug into his skin as you bit your bottom lip to keep from screaming.

“It’s alright, honey. You’re doing so—fuck—so good.”, Steve whispered. “I’m going to push a little more in, ok?”

You nod aggressively before you remember the rules.

“Y-Yes, Mr. Harrington.” As he continued, a sharp burn coursed through your body as you lifted your head and grunted in pain. “Wait! Wait…yellow, please…wait.”

“Ok, pretty girl. That’s alright. Tell me when you’re ready. L-Like he said, I could let you warm my cock all night and I’d still cum.”

“He came before I even started moving.”, Eddie continues as his thumbs stroke your skin. “I fucked him a couple more times that night and then after we laid in my bed talking about the future.”

“Ok, green. Y-You can keep going.”

“Good girl, baby. Thank you for telling me.”, Steve praised, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. Taking ahold of your waist with both hands, he subtly rolled his hips bumping into something inside you that had your eyes rolling. 

“Shit. Was that the spot, sweetheart? Your pussy just choked my dick.”

After a couple more minutes pass, you feel Steve’s warm body and you realize they are fully sheathed inside of you. You had never felt anything like this and the overwhelming ecstasy of the moment had tears falling down your face. 

“What color, Y/N?”

“G-Green, Mr. Munson. I’ve never felt anything this g-g-good before. Mmm—use me. Please…I need you to.”

Testing the water, both men thrust their hips and a moan they had never heard from you escaped your lips. Your own movements took over as you bounced against them, their guttural grunts of approval keeping you motivated. 

“Atta, girl. You like—mmph—feeling us inside you at the same time?”

“Yes, sir. Fuck, you both feel so good.”

While Steve pumps into you, Eddie plants his feet and thrusts up to meet each of your movements with a hard one of his own. Their hands cling to you tightly, sure to leave bruises you don’t mind wearing. 

A sweaty chest leans against your back, pushing you against your professor’s chest and you laid your head on his shoulder as you listen to both boy’s lips smack together as they passionately kiss. 

“I’m sorry.”, Steve murmurs softly.

“I-I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“I hate—oh, fuck—I hate the way they s-still talk about you. You’re both…perfect.”

“Shhhh… don’t focus on that right now, baby. Just…feel our beautiful girl. H-How tight her holes are…fuck. E-Every time your cock slams into her, s-she—mmm—squeezes tighter around me.”

Pulling himself halfway out, skin slaps against skin as his cock roughly hits that spot deep inside making you moan and clench around Eddie. 

“Like that?”

“Fuck, Steve. Just like that.”

Limply, you cling to the man in front of you as you allow them to take over. Matching each other’s rhythm, it doesn’t take long before your orgasm washes over you and crashes like a wave as you shudder against them. 

“Good girl, princess. Good fucking girl.”, the long-haired boy praises as his fingers thread through your hair to hold you tightly against him as they chase their highs. 

Steve cums first, his palm gripping the back of your neck as he slams his release into your ass and after a few more rough thrusts Eddie follows coating your walls with his spend.

“I know, honey. Shhh. It’s ok.”, the coach softly comforts when he hears you groan as he carefully pulls out and Eddie does the same. 

Taking you in his arms, he carries you to the bathroom and holds you to his chest as his partner gets the bath ready. Wincing as he lowers you, they continue to murmur soft praises before Steve climbs in with you and the other man sits on the tub behind you as you lean against his leg. 

“How are you feeling?”, the pretty boy asks, smiling when you nod. 

“I’m worried about you.”, you answer gently as Steve tilts his head. “Jared said he was going to talk to your father. I don’t want him to cause trouble for you both.”

His gorgeous eyes scan over you and his boyfriend as Eddie pours warm water against your skin making you moan as you tip your head back so he can kiss your forehead. 

“My dad already thinks I’m a fuck up like he said. I don’t imagine how much worse Jared can make it unless I tell him about me and Eddie.”

“After the quake, he didn’t try to make amends? I would think something like that would bring a family closer.”

“It brought us closer.”, he grins as he gestures between himself and the man he loves who smiles back. “It made me realize I wanted to be happy. My parents weren’t even in town when everything happened.”

“Are you going to let Theo try out?”

“Can’t say no to someone who wants to see you safe to.”, he chuckles. 

“Speaking of, we may be a bit more protective for a while, sweetheart. You have no idea how Martin will react to being expelled or even the town as a whole so.”, Eddie advised as his eyes flick towards Steve who nods in agreement. 

After getting you clean, the long-haired man carries you to their bed where you fall asleep tangled in their arms. 

######################

Walking down the hallway, you can feel eyes bore into you as you stroll past. The dean had sent the survey asking students and facility their thoughts on the play but that was nothing compared to the gossip of Martin Click being expelled and being fully removed from the team. 

“Hey, Y/N.”, Theo beamed, ignoring the people around him. “Coach Harrington put me on the team as the new quarterback.”

“Oh my god, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah, I’m excited. Let me walk you to class.”

As your eyes search his, you see something behind them.

“Coach Harrington asked you to keep an eye on me, didn’t he?”

Pursing his lips, he nods as he loops his arm through your own and leads you towards Eddie’s room. 

“He said after last night and with everything going on, he trusted me to look after you. He’s a good guy unlike his dad.”

“Have you met him?”

“Ah no but like everyone else I’ve heard the rumors and small-town gossip about the Harringtons.”

As soon as you reach your next class you pause noticing the sign that read “Class Cancelled.” You had just seen Eddie that morning and he hadn’t said a word about cancelling class. Opening the door anyway you are met with complete and utter chaos. 

The desks had been flipped over with the chairs thrown randomly around the room. His own desk that he taught from was on its side with all his papers tossed every which way on the floor. On the board in front of the class “FREAK” was scrolled across in big bold letters. As you headed for his office you noticed the lock had been busted and it was even more messy with all his books and documents damaged. 

Images were dangling from the ceiling above and as you pulled one of them down, you realized they were pictures of the people that were killed in 86.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Eddie’s strained whimpers caught your ear and you found him in the corner with his knees to his chin, his head down in his folded arms with one of the pictures scrunched in his hand. 

“Go get Mr. Harrington. Now.”, you commanded sternly.

As soon as Theo ran out of the room, you knelt by your professor’s side and slowly pulled the picture from his desperate grasp. It was a school photo of Chrissy Cunningham taken for the yearbook in her cheerleading uniform, her smile bright on her adorable face. 

“Eddie, it’s ok. Come back to me, baby.” 

His head shot up when your fingers touched his hair as his palm instinctively grabbed your wrist. 

“Fuck…fuck, Y/N. I-I-I’m—”

“No, no. It’s ok. Come on, let’s sit in the classroom and wait for Steve. You shouldn’t be looking at these.”

When you rose to your feet, he promptly wrapped his arms around you as he pressed his face into your stomach and cried. Neither of you cared in that moment if you got caught or if someone walked in. He just needed to feel safe again. 

“Jesus Christ.”, Steve panted from running to the room as his wide eyes took everything in. “Eddie, baby.”

Falling to the floor, his partner immediately clung to him as he climbed into his lap. While rocking him back and forth, he whispered comforting words as you stepped back to give them some space. 

“His office is trashed to.”, Theo relayed. “When we spoke, it was heading to the locker room so he probably hadn’t seen it yet. It’s nothing like this though.”

Your wide eyes suddenly meet his.

“Oh, no. Lilah.”

“Y/N, WAIT!”, your friend calls as you run out of the room towards the auditorium. 

You hear your theater teacher shouting before you even open the door. 

“Those little shits are going to get it! I’m not letting this town fucking scare me away!”

In the middle of the stage were all the set pieces she and her team had worked so hard on, now in shambles and charred as if they had been burned right there. 

“We don’t know it was them.”, the town sheriff sighed as his deputy continued to take pictures. 

“Of course it was them! Are you fucking kidding? Martin gets expelled and then the morning after they set my stage on fire with my things!? That’s just a coincidence?!”

“Mr. Munson and Coach Harrington’s offices were destroyed to.”

Lilah looks at you completely shocked before anger fills her face as she gestures your way.

“See?!”

“Is everyone alright?”, Chief Hopper asks right as all three men appear behind you. “Alright. I guess I have an idiot and his father to go talk to.”

#################

@joannamuns9n @dckweed @corkadymu @lilaclazer @aol19 @nailbatanddungeon @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @too-efn-old-to-be-here @eddiexmunsonlover

I think I got everyone

[delicatebarness]

the manuscript | prologue

Summary: The first encounter.

Warnings: Age Gap. (Dr Barnes: late 40s & Reader: 18 in this part)

Word Count: 837

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A/N: Oh, hello Dr. Barnes. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

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The university loomed before you, the ivy-clad walls and gothic spires stood as testaments to the centuries of academic excellence. Renowned for its rigorous standards, the prestigious institution drew in the brightest minds from across the globe. You stepped through the grand archway, the air humming with the energy of countless scholarly pursuits, each echoing through the hallowed halls. 

You haven’t long turned 18, now a freshman, driven by a passion for creative writing. Your nights were spent hunched over notebooks, pouring your heart into stories and poems. Determined to make the most of this opportunity, you reflected on your talent that earned you a place here. With the best and brightest. It was a new chapter of your academic journey, and it started today.

Dr. James B. Barnes is a brilliant literature professor yet, reserved. His reputation preceded him– known for his profound insights and standards, he was feared and revered by his students. As you approached his office, your heart began to race. 

Tucked away in a quiet corner of the library, stood a heavy oak door with a brass nameplate glinting in the dim light. You took a deep breath and knocked firmly. Creaking open the door, you revealed Dr. Barnes. Sat behind a cluttered desk, his gaze lifted from a pile of papers, meeting yours. Piercing yet thoughtful, there was a moment of silent assessment. 

You felt the weight of his scrutiny as you stepped inside. The room smelled of leather with a faint trace of whiskey. 

“Good afternoon,” you begin, trying to steady your voice despite the nerves. “I’m going to be joining your advanced English literature class.” 

“Ah, yes,” he responded, his tone measured. “You must be the freshman. Please, have a seat.” 

You took a seat in the heavy leather chair opposite his desk. The two of you exchange a few professional courtesies, keeping the conversation brief but charged with mutual respect. You could sense that he had recognized your passion, and you were determined to prove yourself. 

~

A week later, you found yourself attending his class, surrounded by fellow students. His presence was commanding as he stood at the front of the room. A masterful blend of critical analysis and profound insight, his lectures were delivered with authority. 

Your hand raised after a particularly challenging lecture, Dr. Barnes acknowledged you with a nod.

“Yes?” 

“I have to disagree with your interpretation of his work,” you say, your voice clear and confident. A stark contrast from your first meeting with him. “I believe his use of fragmented narrative serves as a challenge to the notion of a singular, authoritative voice, rather than to obscure meaning.” 

The room fell silent, all eyes turned to you. Dr. Barnes regards you with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. 

“Interesting perspective,” he replied, keeping his tone cool. “However, I would argue that the fragmentation serves more to reflect the chaotic nature of postmodern existence.” 

You don’t back down. “Isn’t that chaos a direct challenge to traditional narrative structures? He seems to be inviting readers to find their own meaning within the disarray.” 

Your heated debate ensues, intellectual electricity cranking the air. Your classmates watched, their gazes swapping between you and Dr. Barnes like they were at Wimbledon as you exchanged arguments. 

Initially, he was annoyed by your boldness, yet you caught a flicker of intrigue in his eyes. You thrived on pushing boundaries and testing limits, in particular, with those you found intellectually stimulating and authoritative. Leaving everyone, including Dr. James B. Barnes, captivated.

“Your argument is well-crafted,” he concedes, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “I look forward to more discussions like this.” 

As the weeks passed, Dr. Barnes’ class quickly became the highlight of your week. A battlefield of ideas in each session, a place where you could push your intellectual prowess. Dr. Barnes, though initially reserved, seemed to relish the debates as much as you did. 

One chilly autumn afternoon, you lingered after another stimulating class as the other students left. The room fell quiet, as though itself was in thought and reflection. Dr. Barnes noticed and approached you.

“Good work today,” he said, his tone less sharper than usual. “You’ve brought a new energy to these discussions.” 

“Thank you,” you smile, a rush of pride coursed through you. “Your classes challenge me in ways I never expected.” 

He nodded, “To challenge and to inspire, that’s the point of academia. Keep questioning, you could go far.” 

You smiled again, your cheeks becoming flushed. “I’m glad you’re not tired of my questions yet.” 

“On the contrary,” he said as he leaned closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that caused your heart to race. “I find them… refreshing.” 

The flicker of something unspoken passed between you, a deeper connection yet to be explored. His words echoed as you left the lecture hall, the promise in his eyes lingered. 

What were the boundaries between student and teacher? And, could they transform into something more profound? 

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[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Professor!Y/n: So miss Maximoff why were you interrupting the lesson?

Wanda: Sorry professor it’s my friend Nat she gets under my skin sometimes but I promise it won’t happen again

Professor!Y/n: Well thank you for explaining but I don’t want it to happen again okay?

Wanda nodding: Of course professor

Professor!Y/n: Thank you, now I see you’re struggling a little with this class, did your previous teacher offer any extra help?

Wanda: No, no she didn’t give any help, could you give me extra help? I don’t want to fail the class, my parents won’t be happy

Professor!Y/n holding Wanda’s hands: Of course honey I would be delighted to help you, how about we meet at one of our house? More privacy and comfort

Wanda: Erm isn’t that inappropriate?

Professor!Y/n: Of course not honey, not unless you turn up wearing something scandalous *winks*

Wanda blushing: Never professor we barely know each other! It wouldn’t be right especially if we’re just studying

Professor!Y/n: Hmm I see, maybe in a few weeks then

Wanda: A few weeks professor?

Professor!Y/n: When you’re more comfortable around me, you’ll turn up wearing something scandalous

Wanda nearly fainting: S-sure okay professor, I-i think I need go to to my next class

Professor!Y/n: Of course Wanda, I shall see you tomorrow

Wanda already leaving: yep okay great! See you!

Professor!Y/n: Adorable