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jk97 · 4 months

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Unprofessional Attraction | ONE

♡ pairing - yunho x afab!reader ♡ word count - 13K ♡ series synopsis - There's no such thing as a coincidence, right? CollegeSenior!Reader (22) and linguistics teacher Yunho Jeong (27) indulge in an entanglement of inappropriate gravitation. It's risky and it's wrong, but listening to one's better judgment never leads to anything as intoxicating. When someone threatens this secret relationship with blackmail to expose the truth, things take a turn for the worse. Graduation can't seem to come fast enough. ♡ warnings for this chapter - fluff and explicit content (mdni), slight age gap, teacher/student relationship, other members are featured, pining, some obsessive behavior and manipulation (mainly from reader), drinking alcohol, inebriated driving (big no no frens!) perverted!yunho, bigdick!yunho, sprinkles of praise, fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (mention of bc pill tho), porn with plot ♡ A/N - part one is kinda tame, the next two parts will have more explicit scenes. I hope you enjoy, and please look forward to the rest! I haven't posted a fic on tumblr in many years so pls be kind ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Yeosang is too attentive, especially when it comes to his best friend.

That’s why he knows you well enough to call you out when he whispers, “You’re staring again.”

“I’m staring at the whiteboard, pretty sure that’s what you’re supposed to do in class,” you argue, not bothering to even glance at him. It’s quite obvious that your eyes are too busy soaking in things that don’t have to do with phonology.

Your linguistics teacher, Yunho Jeong, is dressed particularly charmingly today. Something about the tight-fitting white polo shirt and chocolate brown slacks he has on this class is too distracting. It doesn’t help that his hair is a little more messy than usual, you wonder if he was running late this morning. Linguistics has nothing to do with your major, however, for your final semester in college, you simply needed a filler class for your last few credits. Yeosang suggested joining him in this class so you could both support each other, but he never factored in the fact that you’d be too distracted by the teacher to do anything of use for him. There weren’t many younger teachers such as Yunho at your university; in fact, you were pretty sure this was only his second semester teaching in general. He was generally a mild-mannered and easygoing teacher, but he was also able to command a room when necessary.

A minute later, Yunho offers everyone a 10-minute break since the last section of his lecture lasted a little longer than he anticipated, and the class immediately breaks out into chatter.

“He’s single, you know,” Yeosang turns towards you and props up his head on his palm, “Or so I’ve heard.”

“Don’t tell me things like that, you’ll make me delusional.”

He doesn’t miss the goofy smile tugging at your lips as you stretch your tired limbs from too much sitting. The lectures for this class were two hours long, but they were only twice a week on Wednesdays and Fridays, so you couldn’t complain too much.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“That I might have a chance with him,” you nudge him playfully.

“I’m not sure he’d want to date someone barely passing his own class,” Yeosang quips quickly, subsequently squeezing his eyes shut when you flick his forehead in response.

“Watch your mouth, I am not ‘barely passing’!” You return your eyes to the subject of your conversation, slowly taking in his form, “For the record, I could definitely pull him if I tried to. You think he likes younger women?”

“That is a terrible idea,” your best friend immediately shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

“Surely I would be guaranteed to pass then though, no?” you offer instead, half-joking.

“You haven’t gotten laid in the last month and this is the first person that comes to your mind to fix that?” Yeosang scoffs incredulously.

“I wouldn’t just be in it for the sex,” you clarify. Your keen eyes watch his every move, from the way that his large hands flex as he thumbs at his phone to the way he purses his lips in curiosity at whatever he’s looking up. Like a lion stalking a gazelle before pouncing. “He’s quite literally perfect. Tall, smart, handsome, financially stable… the whole package. I deserve a man like that, right Yeo?”

You meet Yeosang’s eyes curiously, and he reminds you, “I think you’re forgetting he’s our teacher .”

“We graduate soon,” you whine, “Act now, worry later. I could graduate with a boyfriend already lined up the minute I get handed my degree.”

“You’re playing with fire, ____,” he holds his hands up in surrender. As your best friend, he knows you’re not joking, despite how much you might play it off later. He knows that once you set your mind on something, you generally don’t stop until it’s achieved, “Let’s see you try, though. It’ll be entertaining.”

When class resumes, you listen to the rest of his lecture with renewed cravings and an unusually optimistic disposition Yeosang has never seen you hold for this subject.

From that moment forward, every instance you “stumbled” across your teacher was planned. You figured out which parking lot he parked his car on during the day and bought a proper parking pass for that lot, now alternating between taking the shuttle and your car to the university. Your schedules crossed occasionally on your driving days, and you’d simply offer warm greetings or cheerful send-offs depending on the time of day. Yunho was a man of habit who visited the same campus restaurant nearly every day he worked during lunchtime in between his midday classes. It didn’t take much energy to stop by a couple of days a week and run into Yunho, giving you the ability to strike up a conversation or two when asking for recommendations on what you should order. These instances were simply to put you more on his radar, instead of just being a face in the sea of students in his class.

He seems to be good friends with two other teachers who are also around his age, teachers Seonghwa Park and San Choi. You wonder if getting in their good graces would somehow transfer to your teacher, by word of mouth. Luckily, you have a friend who has Mr. Park for a history seminar. On a Sunday night, you shoot a text to set the stage.

[Y/N: Jongho!!!! It’s been so long since we’ve hung out :(( Can I swing by your class tomorrow and pick you up? Let’s get lunch!]

When 2 PM rolls around on Monday, you make the mistake of trusting the shuttle to come on time. It’s nearly 3 PM when you get to the necessary building, and you’re sure Jongho’s class ended close to half an hour ago. The plan to run across Mr. Park is thrown completely out of the window, you are only worried about Jongho being upset with you. You know he’d never, but still. Being late to something planned ahead of time always upsets you to no end. You curse at yourself over and over every stride down the hall, and it’s good that the hallways are virtually empty or else you’d probably look crazy. Eventually, you make it to your destination.

You’re just about to blindly call out an apology to Jongho but end up stopping dead in your tracks as soon as you enter the door; not only is Mr. Park in the room seated at his desk, but he’s also accompanied by Mr. Choi and Mr. Jeong. They’re huddled together, Yunho leaning against the whiteboard leisurely with a cup of coffee in his hand while intently listening to Seonghwa complain about the registrar’s office fucking up another one of his student’s enrollment for his class.

“There she is,” Jongho sighs this aloud as if his prayers have been answered.

He didn’t know if you were going to still make it and he’s dying of hunger from skipping breakfast. Immediately, all three men’s eyes turn towards the entrance. You pray to God that your face isn’t flushed with how hot you feel being the fixation of so many eyes. Or maybe it’s more so how handsome the men are that those eyes are coming from. This surely isn’t the time to have such a weakness for a strapping man in a button-up and crisp slacks.

“Hello, ____,” Yunho is the first of the three to speak. Subsequently, San amiably nods toward you in acknowledgment.

“Good afternoon all,” you greet everyone, bashfully adding, “I’m so sorry for interrupting.”

“Not interrupting at all,” Seonghwa waves his hands, dispelling those fears, “We were curious why Jongho was sticking back so late. He assured us a friend was coming to get him and we just chose not to leave him.”

Well, this is embarrassing. You nod hastily and glance toward Jongho, who is practically skipping down the lecture hall’s steps. Yunho wants to crack a joke about seeing you everywhere, about how you both must be magnets or something else silly, but he decides to keep that to himself. He doesn’t want it to seem like he’s keeping track of course, even if he is.

Instead, he affirms to the other men, “This is a student of mine.”

Admittedly, your ears had tuned every other word out except “mine”, and you nodded a little too enthusiastically. You haven’t been this discomposed in a long time, too bashful to look any of them in the eyes, and you pray it’s not showing too much elsewhere. Jongho’s friendly hand landing on your shoulder grounds you.

“You ready?”

“Absolutely,” you puff out.

“Don’t cause too much trouble for her, Jongho,” Seonghwa pokes a bit of fun at one of his top students, who replies by waving him away and scoffing. They seem to be relaxed with each other— this is something you desire to achieve with Yunho soon. You snatch up your friend’s hand and finally move to leave for lunch, if it could even be considered that now with how late it is.

“See you Wednesday, Mr. Jeong,” you look back and shoot him a wave, accompanied by a charming smile. He nods back, offering you his own as well.

Unbeknownst to you, San’s eyes follow you out the door with Jongho, especially surveying the plush of your thighs rubbing together as you walk. Such as yourself, skirts are surely a weakness of his.

“She’s a senior, right?” he murmurs, half-jokingly.

“Stop it,” Yunho promptly elbows San in the arm, earning a stifled laugh from Seonghwa.

Yunho has heard stories about San’s slight affinity with the pretty college women when he goes out to bars on the weekends. Nobody from his own classes, of course. Needless to say, Yunho would not let him even think about you that way. No way in hell.

“I was just asking, Jesus.”

Seonghwa stretches his limbs from his chair, “It’s never ‘just asking’ with you.”

“You buy a table of women drinks one time and your friends never let you hear the end of it,” he groans with a roll of his eyes, “God you guys are the worst.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s what it is,” Seonghwa concedes sarcastically.

“Just don’t make any unannounced visits to my classroom anytime soon, you buffoon,” Yunho chastises him while pressing his cup to his lips, “And I’m serious.”

“You got that,” San yields, “Wouldn’t wanna be a cock-block.”

Yunho nearly spits his coffee, “I beg your pardon?”

San nearly doubles over in laughter and, to Yunho’s surprise, Seonghwa has joined in. He doesn’t particularly enjoy the look they’re sharing and it makes the back of his neck burn with heat. Yunho doesn’t know why he’s so embarrassed but he steers the conversation away from discussing you any further. He ignores the feeling of indignation and possessiveness pooling in the pit of his stomach.

It doesn’t take long for you to decide you’ve done what needed to be done outside of the classroom; the cherry on top now was simply to get him alone more privately.

You didn’t have to try very hard for this to happen; your work on your paper outline was already sub-par at best. You did fairly well on the quizzes and packets he passed out once a week, but that final paper preparation was surely going to be a challenge. When you find enough courage in yourself to email him about seeing him during his office hours for extra academic help on formatting your paper and choosing a more concise topic, he replies quickly and enthusiastically. According to your syllabus, the topic should relate to what you’re studying for your degree, but the real meat and potatoes of the paper should incorporate an aspect of linguistics in relation to your career path. Yunho understands how something like this can be difficult to tackle, so he assures you not to worry and that you both will work on perfecting it in no time.

“Mr. Jeong, do you mind if I text you instead? It’s more convenient for me than to email,” you end up asking him at the end of class on a Friday.

Yunho doesn’t mind this and he says so; he's put his phone number on the syllabus for situations like this. Moreover, he doesn’t think anything of it when he receives a text from you the morning of your first session telling him good morning and saying that you’re excited to finally get some guidance. You follow up by asking how he likes his coffee, and if he prefers muffins or donuts. Even after this indicator, he’s still surprised that you show up at his office right on time at 10 AM on Monday with two fresh cups of coffee and a couple of things from the campus bakery.

His office is fairly small, but not enough to feel uncomfortable. He’s decorated it to his liking though to make it feel a little more homely on the days he has to stay late for one reason or another. He watches you marvel at his space before you set down everything in your hands and relieve yourself of your backpack.

“Good morning!”

“Good morning ____, welcome in,” Yunho smiles. “You’re very punctual.”

“Of course, I meant what I said about being excited,” you tell him honestly, settling into the seat in front of his desk, “The right one is yours, by the way.”

Yunho timidly thanks you before sliding it closer to himself. He’s never had a student do something for him like this, then again he hasn’t been teaching that long to begin with. Regardless, he appreciates it and the gesture goes straight to his heart. He takes a sip to emphasize this.

“I’m all ready when you are,” you proclaim, clasping your hands together.

With that, he begins to look through his folders for your class number and finds the topic idea and outlines you’ve submitted previously. He doesn’t even have to look for your name specifically, you always tend to write his name and your class section in a particular way on the top of your work that is very appealing and oddly unique.

“You have really pretty handwriting,” Yunho murmurs out absentmindedly when he finds it. When he lifts his head to see your intrigued eyes gazing back at him, he clears his throat and adds, “Mine looks like chicken scratch so I’m always fascinated by others.”

“As long as it’s legible, that’s all that matters,” you hum with a smile, “And I can read yours just fine, so you’re fine.”

Yunho’s not sure why that mild compliment, something that should probably be insignificant, steals his words from him for a moment. Instead, he offers a hum in place of thanks while quickly taking another sip of his coffee. He glances at his notes before speaking again.

“Okay, so when I reviewed your work, it seems like you generally have a solid topic,” he begins, “It’s definitely something that can be a bit more concise, but it’s fine. The problem is that you’re trying to incorporate too much into the paper as a whole.”

You nod in understanding, so he takes a sip of coffee and continues.

“That’s good and bad, for a couple of reasons. It’s good that you’re being ambitious and trying to give lots of information. This shows me that you’re planning on doing a lot of research and you’re going to be very knowledgeable about your topic,” Yunho cocks his head, “If you set yourself up like this, though, your paper will end up being over twenty pages easily. And we both don’t want that, right?”

He gives you a knowing look, and you can’t help the candid snort you let out at his frankness, “Definitely not, oh God. I’m so sorry.”

“Precisely. So, let’s work on cutting some of these sections out and conjoining some of these bullet points in others. Sound good?” He holds out his hand with a grin as if to make it a deal, and you grant him a firm shake.

After a considerable amount of time figuring out which parts of your paper to chop without losing the vision, Yunho feels his limbs tighten from sitting too long. He’s been in this chair since 9 AM, so he asks, “Can we take a quick break? I need to stretch a bit.”

“Of course!”

When he stands to full height and stretches his arms, your eyes inconspicuously survey the way the edge of the desk lines up right with his pelvis. Perfect height for extracurricular activities… You wonder if he’s the type of guy to be open to something like that, fucking his lover in his office. Surely this thing is sturdy enough to withstand it, you muse. The thought of him bending you over the desk just to prove how sturdy it is makes you rub your thighs together. You decide to chug the rest of your now-cold coffee to get your brain back on track. Yunho collapses back into his office chair gently and lets you know he’s ready to resume. The rest of the time is spent setting up a list of some things you could tweak when you go home on your own and prepare for him to view in a couple of days.

On Wednesday, for your second meeting, you both convene at his office directly after your class with him in the afternoon. You smell especially good today, a mix of jasmine, vanilla, and something else he can’t put his tongue on… but it’s got Yunho’s head a bit foggy. Still, the meeting is engaging and brimming with useful help just as the last. Leaning back in his chair, he takes a brief moment to review a printout of what you’ve implemented into your outline from your last meeting discussions. It’s definitely already an improvement, but there are still a few things that could be tweaked in terms of sectioning. He grabs his favorite pen and lays your papers out in front of you, leaning forward to mark things you should be mindful of. A circle here, a quick jotted note there—his soothing voice explains each eagerly, and you can tell just how much he loves this subject by his enthusiasm. You reply to all of his criticism and suggestions with just as much enthusiasm. Yunho finds himself leaning in a little closer than might be suitable for the circumstances, but his brain is still ensnared by your perfume. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing, truthfully, but it doesn’t bother you a bit. In fact, you’re a little too enamored with watching his large hands grip his pen and flex while writing to notice he’s calling your name.

“____?” he calls for a second time, to which you finally meet his gaze while blinking bashfully. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry, I think I spaced out for a second,” you answer honestly. He is absolutely too close to you right now and the way you can see the details in his eyes is making your brain short-circuit. He finally sits back in his chair and chuckles warmly.

“We have been working for quite a while today, I’m sure it’s a lot of information. Maybe we should wrap up for the day and meet again next week? I’m a bit tied up on Friday,” he ponders. You can’t help the hint of disappointment that makes its way onto your face, and he notices. There’s this unusual feeling in his chest right now; why does he feel regret for his stupid schedule? He leans forward on his elbows and cocks his head, “You’re doing very well, you know that? We’ve made a lot of progress after only a couple of meetings. I’m very excited to see how this comes together at the end of the semester.”

“I’m very self-conscious about my writing, so I appreciate that, Mr. Jeong,” you confess with a sheepish smile.

“You have nothing to be stressed about, I love what I’ve seen so far,” he continues his praise, “And I’m very happy you’re in my class, ____.”

The smile he gives you after such a statement manifests dozens of butterflies in your stomach, and you can’t help but match it. These one-on-one sessions go on 2-3 days a week for about two more weeks, loosening him up to you. He successfully becomes much more casual and unfiltered in your presence before you decide to up the ante. The following Tuesday of the next week, you remain on campus fairly late after classes end for the day, seated on a bench near the parking lot you both share. It’s warm outside even with the sun gradually setting, and you spend the time mentally rehearsing exactly what you planned on saying when he arrives to leave for home. He should be here any minute now–

“_____?”

You spin around at the familiar voice calling out your name. It’s him, of course, coming from the staff meeting you found out was being held this evening. Finally , you think. He stops just short of where you’re perched on the bench.

“Oh, hello Mr. Jeong.”

“What are you doing out here so late?” He inquires quickly, and there’s a tinge of concern laced in his voice. However, he realizes that asking this might be out of the realm of things he should know, you’re a grown woman after all. So, he follows up with an excuse, “It’s getting pretty dark out.”

“It’s a bit embarrassing,” you mutter, glancing away from his gaze.

Yunho can’t deny, he’s a bit mesmerized by the way you look tonight. He’s never seen you with your make-up done up like this, or your hair styled so charmingly. When you glance back at him again with those long, fluttering lashes of yours, he feels the back of his neck turn hot.

“You can tell me anything, you already know,” he reminds you, “I won’t judge and I’m always available to listen.”

“Well… I have a reservation for dinner with someone at six… but it seems they stood me up,” you reveal while mindlessly fiddling with a frayed string on the skirt of your dress. Yunho glances down at his watch: it’s 5:48 PM. “They were supposed to pick me up a while ago. I was trying to hold out some hope, but… I’m just being stupid.”

Yunho furrows his brows; why would someone stand a girl like you up? You’re beautiful and exceptionally smart (despite any kind of trouble you may have had with your paper). You’re also one of the sweetest people he’s ever crossed paths with in life. Many of those paths having been crossed within the last month, of course. Still, he can’t fathom it.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, ____,” he tells you truthfully. Then, he thinks about how your car isn’t here, and how the shuttle won’t be around until 6:30 PM. He’s slightly apprehensive before offering, “Do you want a ride home?”

You give him a winsome smile that pierces into his heart with an invisible arrow, “You don’t have to do that. I appreciate the offer though.”

“No, really, I don’t mind at all,” he says with more confidence. The idea of him being your knight in shining armor, buried deep in the back of his head, is shouting at him. That’s when you decide it’s time to take your shot, for better or worse.

“Well, in that case, would you like to accompany me to the restaurant instead?” you inquire, glancing up at him curiously. “I already paid for the spot, so I wouldn’t want the reservation to go to waste.”

Normally, you’d follow up a statement like that with a: “But it’s okay if not.”

Not tonight.

You didn’t want to give him an out to this proposal willingly. You can see the mild indecisiveness in his face anyway, all the way down to how Yunho’s hand tightens around the handle of his briefcase. You did get all dolled up for whoever you were supposed to be spending the evening with, and he’ll feel awfully bad letting you go back home to take it all off for no reason. It’s just a dinner, he tells himself.

“Sure,” Yunho finally says in an exhale, “Let me pull around my car.”

While he walks off into the parking lot towards his car, you bite down hard on your bottom lip to stop the dishonest smile that’s threatening to spread across your face. Was it all a bald-faced lie? Of course it was! But, sometimes it takes some white lies to get to what you want, and what you wanted was no longer that far out of reach if tonight was anything to go by.

When he finally pulls around to pick you up, you allow yourself to slip into the mode you usually go to on dates. It doesn’t hurt to pretend tonight, it’s like manifesting your reality. You thrum your fingers against your bare thighs, to no particular beat, while staring out of the car window at other passing cars during your brief trip on the highway.

“Is this a restaurant you’ve been to before? It looked really nice online,” Yunho eventually says into the silence, trying to make small talk. He had briefly skimmed the reviews while plugging the address in on his phone.

“I haven’t, actually,” you divulge, going further, “I’m a bit of a foodie, you know? I like to try new places occasionally.”

That conversation flows smoothly for the rest of the drive, and even smoother when you both are seated and eating dinner in a booth towards the back of the restaurant. It’s nice to see him in a more relaxed setting.

“Thank you for joining me tonight, Mr. Jeong.” You offer him some well-deserved gratitude as you wipe your mouth, signaling the end of your eating. “Makes things a lot less embarrassing tonight for sure.”

“No need to thank me, I enjoyed your company,” he smiles. He doesn’t even hesitate this time before adding, “That bastard doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

The bubbly laugh and adorable smile you grant him the experience of witnessing enraptures him, the tips of his ears burning at the thought of how he wants to be able to produce that from you again and again. Yunho hasn’t been on a date in a while, so he’s sure this feeling is just because he’s attention-deprived. Still, it’s something he notes mentally. And, even though some might consider it inappropriate, you and your teacher both began having dinner occasionally, just like that. Platonically, of course.

“We can go over my questions for my paper topic here rather than in that cramped office of yours, you know?”

Surprisingly when you proposed this, he showed little resistance to the idea. Yunho enjoyed getting out of the house for the evenings he usually spent alone with a few beers and a Netflix series. He enjoyed having a pretty girl keep him company even more. He reminds himself every time he picks you up, though, that this is simply work and nothing more. Just some overtime—helping a student who enjoyed his class get better at the material. It’s not meant to be enjoyable.

But after the first few times of these “informational paper related” meetings, conversations involving anything to do with linguistics slowly molded into Yunho placing a nimble finger to his lips to say a silent shhh, followed by, “Let’s not talk about schoolwork tonight, okay?”

That moment, when you noticed that slight shift in Yunho’s energy, the atmosphere from there turned more informal. You become more conscious of those important invisible lines between student and teacher— or even more teacher and friend— that have begun to blur significantly. “Good evening Mr. Jeong,” became, “Le’me taste your food, Yunho?”

To which he never declines, naturally.

Tonight, on the 5th dinner, the climate between you both plows further into the downward spiral of informality, warm and fairly flirtatious. At least, that’s what you surmise by the way he keeps openly teasing you this evening. It’s all innocuous banter, but that doesn’t quell the adoration you hold for him in the pit of your stomach. It’s enough to make your thighs clench together underneath the table. You finally decide to shamelessly reciprocate, teasing him about the way his hair is going every which way tonight. You emphasize how the style is still very handsome despite him looking like he’s been through hell and back.

“I was having a pretty bad day today until I remembered where I was going tonight actually,” Yunho divulges, pushing the wrinkly sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. He truly has been through hell and back today, between snooty older teachers and idiot freshmen both treating him like he’s a student just because of his age, “These kinds of nights with you always make my day, so it’s been saved.”

A playful smile tugs at your lips as you cock your head, “Is it the food or is it the company?”

He leans forward on his forearms with a prepossessing smile, one that makes your heart thump loudly in your ears.

“Both, of course,” he teases again, “I suppose the food is just a bonus, though.”

He takes notice of the way your cheeks are dusted in pink as you shyly avert your eyes and locks that innocent image into a deep chamber of his mind along with all the others. He practically has a photo album saved mentally. It’s not too long until the food comes, and things become all about eating. A fair amount of time into your dinner, you decide to add a new element to your dynamic.

“Do you mind if I drink a little tonight?” you inquire quietly while your eyes skim the wine menu briefly. Not like you were going to care about his answer, but it was simply fun to ask. He chuckles.

“You’re an adult,” he points out instead. You smile to yourself before meeting his eyes from behind the menu. There’s something especially curious tonight behind those dark irises of his. The unfamiliar stare he gives you from behind his bangs is accompanied by a subtle smirk that makes your stomach tie into tight knots.

You turn away your eyes until you’re able to catch the attention of your waiter once more. In the process of requesting a glass of some Cabernet Sauvignon, you hesitate before saying the name of which brand because of the price tag for one glass, but most risks are pricey and tonight you felt like splurging for the reward in return: releasing your inhibitions. The waiter turns towards Yunho to confirm if he’d like to add anything before he leaves.

“Bring a bottle of that instead, please. We’ll share,” he requests alternatively. It takes all of your strength not to look at him like he’s crazy as the waiter nods and heads off to fetch it.

“It’s on me tonight,” Yunho beats you to the punch on declaring anything about his decisions.

“You don’t even know the price of it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he quips back with a chuckle, “Are you suggesting I can’t afford it?”

“Yunho…”

“Don’t even give me that, ____.”

The way he blithely says your first name with a different warmth now always causes your heart to swell in your chest. All formality is truly gone between you two. You both share matching smiles in place of any further words about the matter.

When the waiter returns briefly with a freshly opened bottle of wine and two glasses, you both offer him words of gratitude before he slips away once more. Yunho wastes no time pouring you both a proper amount, sighing contently when finished. You lift your glass towards him and grin once more, “Cheers?”

“Cheers.”

Yunho surely got his money’s worth, because the bottle is gone between you both quickly, signaling the end of your dinner as well. You don’t feel the few glasses fully set in until Yunho is helping you out of the booth, your legs feeling akin to a newborn baby deer as you bashfully stumble into his arms. You suppose your food wasn’t as carb-heavy as usual tonight. You’re not drunk, but surely you’re not sober either. He doesn’t mind holding you steady on the way out of the restaurant, a guiding hand timidly pressed to the small of your back.

As much as you despise the thought of driving under the influence, it’s pouring an insane amount of rain upon exit of the restaurant and Yunho insists he’s fine enough to drive. The dilemma that arises is how your place is further than he has confidence in making it to in this storm while inebriated. You know just as well as he does that there’s no way he’s driving you home tonight.

“I have a spare bedroom,” he begins, and glances over at you, hoping you understand what he means because he’s not sober enough to come up with the words to ask you otherwise. The pouring water is making it hard for him to keep his eyes open but he doesn’t miss the feigning look of indecision in your eyes. He tries to ignore the way the rain has soaked through your dress enough to make it plaster your body. It accentuates every contour of your figure, from the rounds of your breasts down to your supple thighs. When the boom of thunder somewhere far off fills the silence after his proposal faster than you do, he panics slightly.

“I can get you an Uber if—”

“You already paid for an expensive bottle tonight, don’t waste more money on an Uber,” you grasp onto his arm fondly, sopping breasts squished into his bicep. Your lips curl into a soft smile at his attempt at chivalry though, “I’ll be fine. Let’s hurry though, okay? I’m cold.”

That statement is followed by a sharp shiver running down your back, and that’s enough for him to drag you along with him to his car with quick, but careful, steps.

Surprisingly, Yunho lives in a townhouse. You’re very thankful not to have to walk up the stairs of a condo. He thanks God there’s an empty parking space in front of his house, he hates when the tiny lot fills up before he gets home. You both prepare yourselves before rushing out of the car and to his front door.

Your hazy eyes train themselves on his pretty, slender fingers fiddling with the doorknob before he finally gets it open. Those same fingers grab your hand and pull you through his front door with him mindlessly. Another chill immediately runs down your spine at the cool AC blasting through his home, which he immediately runs off to turn down.

“Both bedrooms have bathrooms with showers,” Yunho sputters while quickly heading off to find you a towel and some spare clothes for which you could sleep in.

While you’re still peeling your drenched shoes and socks off, he settles on a fresh t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants since it’s still a bit chilly in the house. You try not to track too much water through his home while you journey through his living room and meet him halfway.

“I’ll shower in the guest room,” you tell him, taking the items.

He runs an anxious hand through the wet hair sticking to his forehead, “I can also dry your clothes if you leave them on the bed.”

“Fuck, that’s great,” you sigh with a smile, stepping past him but cocking your head back to add, “Wait about five minutes before you come grab them, I should be in the shower by then.”

Just as you requested, Yunho comes into the room a little over five minutes later when he hears the shower running. His eyes confirm that the bathroom door is closed for your privacy before grabbing your wet clothes and retreating to his laundry room down the hall. He chucks them all in his dryer and runs it on medium heat and maximum dryness. While that’s running, he busies himself with running to his bedroom and speedrunning his shower to ensure he’s out before you. He’s a man on a mission, pulling on clothes and towel-drying his hair before rushing to the laundry room to get your clothes.

Yunho pulls your garments from the dryer one by one, making sure there’s nothing left wet. He stops when he pulls something out that catches his eyes. Your underwear. He’s quite enticed by them, even if they were pastel pink with turtles... Hot, he thinks sarcastically. Yunho eyes the crotch curiously and remembers that technically he didn’t wash your clothes at all. It’s been a while since he’s had a girl over his home and that, on top of the thought of even holding your underwear, is taking a small toll on him. He gives in and puts them to his nose, breathing in deeply.

Oh God … Even after they've been soaked in rain, your scent is still heavy on the fabric. He groans, why did you have to smell so fucking good? He remembers that you are quite literally right down the hall while he's here sniffing your underwear like a pervert. It’s your fault, right? Yeah, it’s your fault for trusting him with such a sensitive piece of clothing by himself. It’s your fault for smelling so good and looking so pretty and—

He gives up on rationalizing it and presses the clothing fully onto his face again, inhaling heavily and feeling himself grow harder and harder by the second. His arousal grows worse and worse, precum dampening his underwear with every deep inhale and fluttering thought of what you probably taste like… He finds his hand mindlessly palming himself, and luckily his groans are muffled by the underwear bunched up in his face. That’s when he hears the water shut off.

Yunho whispers a handful of obscenities as he hurries to the room to place your dried clothes on the bed while you’re still in the bathroom, closing the door behind him softly. He’s long gone by the time you step out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

Normally, you’d stay in the shower until your fingertips are pruney, but you suppose being a good guest includes not using up all of his hot water. There were more pressing things to attend to anyway, like the tall attractive man patiently awaiting your presence outside of this room. So, when you tug on your now dry panties and his previously provided clothing, you quickly make your way out of the room and to the living room. You’re not exactly sure what you expected upon seeing him, but he’s indeed still exceptionally handsome freshly out of the shower. Those same curious eyes gaze at you behind his shaggy bangs, still in the process of drying. Clad in a simple white t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, his biceps and strong thighs are fully on display as he lounges on the couch. The way his long legs are man-spread now that he’s comfortable in his own abode makes you swallow a little harder than usual. Still, you meander over and sit on the other side of the couch, not too far away.

“Your place is very nice,” you state absentmindedly, glancing around at the walls of his home. “Very fit for a bachelor.”

Without you noticing, Yunho’s eyes skillfully study the way you’re so casually in his clothing. You’re too busy glancing around at unnecessary things anyway; he wonders if you’re rambling about his decor because you’re nervous. He’s nervous too, but not for the right reasons. Regardless, seeing you in his clothing is taking an additional toll on his mental health. How did you both end up in this situation together… This is wrong, he thinks. He shakes his head to try and clear those corrupted thoughts from his mind. It isn’t until you realize he hasn’t replied to anything in a couple of minutes of you jabbering that you finally peer over at him. His eyes are trained on the short distance between the both of you, mindlessly chewing on the nail of his thumb.

“You okay?” you ask, finally catching his attention.

He nods hastily, “Definitely. Sorry, it’s been a long day. Mind is on empty.”

“You’re fine, no worries.”

It’s uncomfortably quiet for a moment as you both exchange stares. You’re seconds away from breaking the silence before Yunho steals the chance.

“I’m sure you’re tired, so we can head to bed,” he suddenly exhales, hands clasping his thighs, “The guest room is all yours for as long as you need it.”

You take the chance and lean forward toward him on your palms at this statement, slightly sinking into the couch while you gaze at him, “Is that what you really want, Yunho?”

There’s now an even longer moment of silence where you both stare each other in the eyes again and the room is unbearably quiet. Yunho finally breaks it after his Adam’s apple bobs uneasily.

“Of course,” he awkwardly chuckles with furrowed brows, “What do you mean, ____?”

Your heart deflates. For a second, you wonder if maybe you’ve been reading his body language incorrectly the entire night. There’s a flare of embarrassment that ignites on your cheeks as you immediately retract yourself.

“I suck at making jokes,” you match his chuckle nervously, “Don’t mind me.” He cocks his head at you curiously and you stand to your feet before he can catch the way your face is lighting on fire with every passing second. You avoid looking at him as you begin striding back to the guest room, “Goodnight Yunho, see you in the morning!”

Yunho is left alone to his own devices once he hears the sound of the door to the guest room closing down the hall. Sitting alone on a large bed in your teacher’s home feels surreal, and all too disappointing the same. You press your palms to your eyes to try and settle the embarrassment that keeps washing over you every time you think back to your impromptu attempt at making an advance toward him. God this fucking sucks…

After a few minutes of setting up some alarms on your phone for the next morning, you decide you need to go get some water and wash away tonight from your mind forever. Yunho Jeong doesn’t like you more than a friend, it’s time to accept your fate and that you failed at attracting him. To be fair, it all was a shot in the dark to begin with. You try not to be too hard on yourself and hope that he’s already in his room by now.

But, if that’s all truly the case, then why is Yunho standing in front of the guest room door when you open it? His arm is positioned as if he was about to knock. Yunho had been standing there for quite some minutes, debating his next actions in his head, overthinking as usual. Though, could it be considered overthinking if the consequences of his actions could lead to delinquency? Had you not opened the door to go get water, albeit unknowingly, he probably would’ve psyched himself out.

“Oh– Did you need something?” you mumble and look up inquisitively at him. His mouth lingers open for a few seconds before he learns how to speak again.

“Can we talk?”

“Of course.” You can’t help the hint of confusion gracing your face as you step aside and allow him inside the room, “Is everything okay?”

When you close the door and face him, he looks distraught. Everything was indeed not okay.

“Are you still drunk?” He asks first.

“I don’t really think I was ever drunk,” you tell him, “But no.”

“Neither am I.”

At first, it doesn’t click about why he’s confirming this. You also don’t notice the way he gradually takes tentative steps forward—or the way you’re equally taking steps back—until your back hits the bedroom door. He’s so close that you can smell the minty mouthwash still fresh on his breath unfurling over your face. Still, he looks hesitant about his actions.

“I’m sorry, I was just… nervous before,” he swallows. He watches your face shift from confusion to realization; he’s referring to his response when you shot your shot. You relax against the door.

“About?” Is all you can ask in a soft voice, left hand daringly reaching up and cupping his cheek.

“About drunken words,” he continues, his voice just above a whisper. You can see the stutter of his heart against his chest. “And my feelings.”

Your thumb brushes his bottom lip, “What are you feeling, Yunho?”

In a moment of fleeting courage, he gently grabs your right hand and leads it to settle below his groin, pressing it against him a bit for good measure.

“What does it feel like I’m feeling to you?”

Your cheeks heat up at the feeling of him in your palm; you didn’t expect him to be so forward about it out of nowhere. The overall anticipation of the situation is killing you, even though everything feels like it’s moving too slowly and too fast all at the same time. All of your effort was leading to this point and yet, somehow, you still don’t feel nearly as prepared as you thought you were to finally fuck him, to finally fuck your teacher. That doesn’t stop your cunt from clenching around nothing at all at his words alone, because this is definitely what you’ve wanted so badly for weeks.

You try to swallow even though your throat feels parched, mindlessly whispering, “Oh my God…”

Then, you give him an experimental squeeze which has his eyelids fluttering closed, and a deep grunt leaving his flared nostrils.

“Fuck …” he groans. It’s too natural, the way you subconsciously run your hand up and down the bulge, feeling it harden even further. Yunho is at his wit's end. “I need you to tell me exactly what you want ____,” he reminds you.

You get it, he’s covering his bases because of his relation to you outside of this bedroom. Consent is sexy regardless, so you grant that to him.

“I really, really want you to fuck me Yunho,” you purr as your hands creep up his chest until you can wrap your arms around his neck, “And I think you want the same, right?”

Yunho’s hands sneak under the t-shirt on you and he massages the flesh of your sides, fingertips ghosting up your skin until they reach your breasts. His thumbs brushing against your hard nipples involuntarily make you whimper his name, and this is all Yunho needs to hear to proceed without such caution. The moment he leans down and smashes his lips to yours, time stops.

It’s nasty, the way your tongues are dragging against each other, spreading trails of saliva everywhere.

It’s nasty, the way he can’t help but drag that same tongue down your neck, sullying your freshly washed skin with spit.

It’s even nastier, the way he moans out your name, shamelessly grinding his clothed boner into your crotch, searching for friction because he’s touch-starved.

“A-Ah—wait! Bed, please,” you let out a broken moan at the way he sucks and bites on your neck. Yunho grunts in agreement, spinning you around and forcefully guiding you back until you both reach the bed. You can’t help but giggle when you fall back on the mattress— he’s so hungry for it, for you. And you’re more than ready to give it to him.

“Can I take them off?” He still asks like a gentleman, though his fingers are impatiently already tugging at the bottom of your sweatpants. You nod with fervor.

The moment he tosses them away, the situation begins to feel a bit more real to you both. Maybe it’s because you’re sopping wet and semi-exposed, and he’s not, so you become bashful and self-conscious.

“Take yours off too?”

Yunho doesn’t hesitate to oblige you. He peels off his shirt and shoves his shorts away easily. There’s a brief second where he hesitates before also pulling his boxer briefs down and finally fully exposing himself to you in all his nude glory. Yunho hasn’t slept with a woman in a while, but he’s never had complaints about anything, and especially not his size. He can tell by how your eyes are drinking him in, that you won’t have any either.

“You’re so handsome, you know that?” you murmur, eyes hazy as they rake over him from his broad chest to his defined abs, then his defined hips to his heavy cock. There’s a cute hue of pink dusting his cheeks at the compliment.

Yunho doesn’t give you a chance to stare at him very much longer before he’s finally ridding you of your shirt, lips meeting yours again the moment it’s tossed. It’s not long before that naughty mouth of his indulges in your breasts, licking and sucking on your hardened nipples like they’re the only thing that will keep him grounded to earth. You’re a moaning mess underneath of him, hands carding through his tresses and lips struggling with telling him how much you love his mouth. He could suck on your beautiful breasts all day but there are more pressing matters at this time.

His eyes never leave yours as he kisses all the way down the expanse of your stomach to the waistband of your panties. Only then does he close his eyes to bury his face in your clothed cunt and take a deep breath, filling his lungs until they feel like they're about to burst. He’s so content that now he can do it knowing the real thing is right underneath. It gets him hard all the same as the laundry room. You watch him grind himself into the mattress for some relief just at the smell of you.

“I’ve never done something like this before,” he divulges, pressing heated kisses into the skin of your sensitive thighs.

“What, eating pussy?” you tease to ease his nerves. He stares pointedly at you from behind your mound.

“You know what I mean.”

Your hand reaches down to find a comforting purchase in his hair, “Neither have I, Yu.”

Yunho can feel himself falling apart faster and faster, and the nickname is not helping him keep it together at all. He hooks his fingers in your panties and gently tugs them down your legs, joining the rest of the discarded clothing on the floor. Your cheeks tingle with heat when his hands spread your legs wider, eyes seemingly mesmerized.

“Such a pretty pussy…” he whispers, marveling at the way your sticky lips tremble when you clench around nothing.

He solves that by pushing in two of those pretty fingers of his, all the way down to the last knuckles. The desperate moan that flies from your lips sends him into a depraved headspace. He immediately latches his mouth onto your throbbing clit and sets to work, thrusting into your squelching squeezing heat and sucking to his heart’s content. Yunho loves eating pussy, truly. There’s something truly cathartic to him about holding a woman’s legs down while she twitches and grinds against his face as he’s slurping up every bit of essence that seeps from her greedy hole. He even removes his fingers and opts for lapping at your heat like a starved man instead. Up and down, left and right… His tongue leaves no inch of your heat untouched. He loves the feeling of your slick coating his face when he pushes his tongue as deep as he can into your hole. He feels your hands yank him by his hair before he can even get to the fun part. He gazes up at you in confusion, mouth messy and eyes indubitably pussy-drunk.

“Please,” you beg, chest heaving, “I want you inside.”

Yunho licks his lips clean before crawling back up your body to fulfill your request. You’re right honestly, there’s only so much grinding he can do into the mattress to ease the ache of his hard cock. He leans over to grab a condom from the nightstand but you pull him back over, mumbling about how you’re on the pill and that it’s fine.

He’s so big, the way he’s engulfing your whole body with you caged between his arms like this. Gazing into your eyes, he drags the blunt tip of his cock back and forth through your dripping folds, occasionally pressing it hard against that clit that he’s taken such a liking to sucking on.

“Hey,” you mumble against his lips, catching the full attention of his blown-out irises. “I can tell you’re nervous. Just relax and lose control, for me. Okay?”

Yunho’s last rope of restraint snaps.

The moment you feel his tip finally breach your entrance, you squeeze your eyes shut and mewl at the feeling of his thick cock sliding into its rightful place. Yes, obviously he’s meant just for your cunt, because you fit like a glove when you're swallowing him in so badly the deeper he pushes. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt, despite your squirming and twitching underneath him at the feeling of being so full.

“I’m about to move,” he pants, adjusting to the feeling of your warm walls squeezing his cock, “Holy fuck.”

When you nod, he finally lets go of his inhibitions. He begins to roll his hips at a nice steady pace, large hands clasped to the backs of your thighs as he pushes them towards your torso. His mouth hangs open in ecstasy and his eyelids lower lazily at the way your walls suck in his cock so tightly and squeeze it like they’re begging to be filled to the brim. You reach up and latch onto his arms to ground yourself, head dizzy and overwhelmed at the feeling of him starting to snap his hips just a little faster now that you’re stretched out a bit more to accommodate him.

“Yunho, fuck, you’re so big,” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. Yunho grinds his pelvis into you at this remark, rubbing against your clit with his happy trail.

“And you’re taking me so well,” Yunho praises with a lopsided grin, “Feels good?”

“So fucking good.”

Yunho pushes your legs back even further as he leans in to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss. You’re so pretty with those glassy eyes and those flushed cheeks of yours, but there’s something about that that quivering bottom lip that makes him want to suck every sound from you himself. He finds himself bucking faster and faster, unable to maintain any kind of self-control.

He breaks away to catch his breath, eyes lazy as he groans, “Let me hear you. This is what you wanted, yeah?”

“Mhm, yes, yes,” you whine desperately, “I wanted it so bad. Wanted you so bad.”

You grant him a flurry of shameless bitten-off moans, egging him on further and further. Yunho buries his face into the crook of your neck, making your skin damp between his own warm gasps and grunting obscenities. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this aroused before; yes, he’s so painfully hard at the fleeting thoughts of how inappropriate everything is. He’s your linguistics teacher—he’s not supposed to be teaching your cunt how to mold to the shape of his cock. He’s not supposed to be massaging your clit and babbling nonsense about how he’s going to lick your pussy clean when you cum. How can he say that to a student? However, his eyes roll back at that thought.

“I’m going crazy,” he groans into your skin, mindlessly speaking his thoughts aloud. “I’m so close.”

You’d say the same if you could, but your mouth can’t form proper words with the way his long fingers are rubbing quick messy circles around your clit. Instead, you put your mouth on the shell of his ear and say his name in a filthy mewl. Your legs tense up and your toes curl; Yunho can feel you cum around his cock a beat later, encouraging your convulsing and whimpering. He can only manage to give you a few more rough thrusts before he pulls himself out and allows himself to empty his balls in quick spurts all over your torso, a mix of “fuck” and “____” leaking from his mouth at how filthy the action is, dirtying you like this. He’s a man of his word though, quickly hefting himself back down to your sopping cunt and diving face first to taste everything he missed tasting earlier. The groan of pure bliss he lets out into your sensitive cunt has you squirming away, much to his dismay. But he finds himself chuckling anyway—he got to taste your cum and, even if it was for only a few seconds, he’s satisfied.

Cleaning up and cuddling after is far from awkward, Yunho feels comfortable with his arms wrapped around you and head on your chest. You find yourself mindlessly scratching his scalp and playing with his messy hair, while his large hands massage the muscles of your thighs. It’s immensely intimate, and this scares Yunho deep inside. Unbeknownst to his stress, you’re settling into a mental state of bliss; you can’t wait to see where this night leads you after, even if it might be a little awkward back in the classroom at first. He tries not to dwell on such thoughts for too long, eventually falling asleep under your touch.

Yunho wakes up to a cold, empty bed. Glancing over at the clock on his nightstand, he catches some time he can’t be bothered with reading fully, nine-something-in-the-morning. He groans internally at the bittersweet arrival of the morning. After a few seconds of just lying there, bleary eyes staring at anything and everything, he remembers that he’s not supposed to be alone right now. The grimace that crosses his face is heavy.

He lugs himself up and out of bed to find his phone, which he’s left God knows where. After a bit of searching, he’s even more upset to see a lack of text from you about leaving. Leaving with no word after sex… Yunho has been in this position before and it makes him feel like shit. It feels even worse considering that this is not just some random woman, you are his student. He’s a chronic overthinker, he knows he is. Yet, he can’t stop his mind from filling with a plethora of miserable thoughts about what this could mean.

Did you simply want to fuck him and nothing more?

Did you regret sleeping with him and want to leave without confrontation?

Did you sleep with him to then leave and tell someone, maybe to humiliate him?

All of these thoughts scream at Yunho until he finds himself clenching his jaw, and tears are pricking at his eyes. He hates this feeling every time it happens; it makes him feel like he’s not good enough. In a moment of brief irrationality, Yunho debates if he should outright block you.

He’s impulsive like that when he’s worked up. However, after a few minutes of begging himself to calm down, he tossed his phone away and went on to make a cup of tea to ease his agitation. He knew this was a mistake from the start and he still did it.

He doesn’t get a text from you until after 11 AM.

[Y/N: sorry for leaving without saying anything!! I forgot I had prior commitments this morning, didn’t wanna text you until I was sure you’d be up. hope you slept well :)]

Yunho doesn’t know what to think. Prior commitments? Surely this would’ve been something you would’ve mentioned before he drove you to his home last night. It is Saturday though, so it’s plausible. He opens the message and leaves you on read instead.

Earlier this morning, you were certain Yunho must have completely tired himself out after sleeping with you because he failed to wake up when your alarms went off. You make a mental note that it only takes him cumming once to make him go comatose (and maybe a little wine to boot). You had left his place with no ill intentions, and your message was truthful. So, when you get left on read by him, it ignites a small flame of insecurity in you. You’re never one to double-text a man, but considering this is something you put a great amount of effort into getting to happen, you put your pride aside when you don't get a reply by the next day.

[Y/N: Wondering if you want to try a new restaurant after work tomorrow… Let me know if you’re interested!]

To your surprise, Yunho replies that he’s too busy. He doesn’t offer to reschedule for a better day, which isn’t like him. Instead of taking it too seriously and replying something disheartened, you let him know that you understand and to let you know if anything changes. He opens this message and doesn’t reply. You try again on Tuesday. This time, your inquiry is more succinct, no fluff.

[Y/N: Are you free Wednesday?]

He answers this similarly to the last attempt, maintaining that he’s too busy to see you that day as well. However, this text is more curt than the last. When you cave in and ask him which days he’s not busy, he leaves you on read, again.

[Y/N: Do you have a free moment to talk then?]

Yunho doesn’t open this text altogether, and the disgruntlement this stirs within you lingers in your system all day, even when you decide to go out with your friends to clear your mind.

Throughout his class with you the following day, you endure Yunho’s eyes practically boring into you at various points in time. It’s like an itch that can’t be scratched, nagging at your scalp while you keep your head downcast towards your laptop. Thoroughly, as distractions do, it keeps you on edge and unfocused throughout the whole lecture. It doesn’t help that Yeosang is out today, so you feel alone even surrounded by so many people.

At some point, during a quiet moment of everyone completing an individual assignment he had handed out, you glance up over the screen of your laptop and catch his attentive eyes gazing back. He gnaws on the nail of this thumb as he usually does when his brain is on overdrive, his eyes calmly lingering on the fixation of all his thoughts. Eventually, he turns them away and decides to focus on something else irrelevant involving his phone. Anything to take you off of his mind.

You quietly snicker to yourself and roll your eyes. So, he can play on his phone just fine during class but can’t find the time to text you and talk? Men will be men… If he just wanted to sleep with you and leave at that, he could at least tell you, you brood. You try not to let it get to you, but it’s hard to focus on anything for the last half hour of class. You don’t bother sticking around after and instead, preoccupy yourself by striking up a conversation with another acquaintance on the way out of the doors. Yunho notices the way you act like he doesn’t exist while leaving and it makes him a bit bitter. He knows it’s irrational, but you’ve really done a number on him, so he can’t help it.

On Thursday, you’re sick of the games altogether. Being the super sleuth you were at the beginning of this mess, you knew when Yunho typically went to his office in between classes to get grading done that he couldn’t do throughout the day. So, when you finish your mathematics class, you pack up your things quickly, knowing he should be roaming this same hall in very little time. There’s one thing–or person, you suppose–that you didn’t account for in this plan.

“You’re terrible at covering hickeys, you know,” Hongjoong chides, eyeing your messy job at applying makeup to your neck.

To be fair to yourself, you hadn’t realized Yunho had sucked one onto your skin the night you both slept together, and the dark blotch was too annoying to deal with every single day. You bruise too easily and they don’t go away fast enough. Admittedly, you had slacked off on the cover-up today. You chalk it up to secretly being in Fight Club, which you remind him, the number rule is to never talk about Fight Club! That, of course, was not a good enough reason for Hongjoong, and you regret that you didn’t acknowledge beforehand he would surely grill you endlessly about your recreational pastimes.

“Okay seriously, I just wore my choker too tight yesterday and it pinched my neck, that's all,” you explain as he quickly follows you out of the classroom. He squints at you with skeptical eyes, as if he is not believing any of the piping hot shit you’re serving him on a platter. Phase two was to gaze at him with winsome eyes, ones he was definitely familiar with. They always worked on Yeosang, but Hongjoong was harder to subdue.

“Don’t.”

“Joong, I’m telling you, there’s nothing more for me to answer here.”

You employ a small pout to boot.

“And you think I believe that?”

“I think you should believe it.”

He rolls his eyes in annoyance. Meanwhile, your eyes inconspicuously search for Yunho in the sea of classmates flooding the hallway; there was a very important conversation you had hyped yourself up to finally have with him. One that surely would not be done if it didn’t get done today, at this very moment. That would obviously fail to happen if Hongjoong kept pestering you with his concerns. Suddenly, your eyes spot the tail end of Yunho’s styled hair turning the corner and leaving the hallway. Goddammit!

“Joong, I really gotta go,” you say frantically and secure your backpack onto your back. His lips open slightly in puzzlement, but there’s nothing he can say before you’re already shoving people out of the way to make it through the hallway to follow him to his office.

You take the stairs while he takes the elevator to waste some time; hopefully, he'll be set up and comfortable by the time you get to his floor. When you make it to his office, he’s indeed already seated and filtering through sheets of work from students during the last class. You don’t bother knocking before entering; he hadn’t afforded you the comfort of manners lately, so neither would you.

Honestly, had anyone else burst into his office so unannounced like this, he might've cussed them out by accident. But before he can get any words out, you can see the physical shift from annoyance to puzzlement wash over his face as he realizes it’s you, then, genuine dread graces his face before downcasting his gaze.

“I need to talk to you,” you insist, “Now.”

He’s having a hard time even meeting your eyes when you’re speaking and it’s pissing you off tremendously.

“I’m a bit busy right now,” he sighs, now in the process of looking through his desk for a pen that works. “It’ll have to wait for another time.”

You ignore him entirely, “Why are you avoiding me, Yunho?”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Yunho quickly objects. “I’m just–”

“You’ve blown me off twice this week already,” you counter. “Now I can’t even come see you at your office?”

Yunho puts his head in his hands and tries to collect his thoughts. He’s too sensitive to handle this conversation with no preparation beforehand. Then again, the longer he keeps isolating, the longer he’s going to keep feeling like shit. He can hear the undertone of hurt in your words, but he’s only doing what’s best for you, right?

“The least you could do is give me a real reason,” you continue. He finally lifts his head and meets your frustrated eyes. “Just give me a real reason to and I’ll fuck-off all you want.”

“____, that night was a mistake,” he tells you simply. The look in his eyes says otherwise. You know he’s lying but it still feels like a punch in the gut.

“A mistake?”

“It’s something that shouldn’t have happened, and it was inappropriate of me to do that with you. Let’s just forget about it and move on, please.”

You furrow your brows in agitation, “You really feel that way?”

“I do,” he murmurs, eyes falling back to the papers in front of him. He visibly hesitates for the briefest moment before picking up his pen and resuming his grading. This feeling of rejection hurts a little more than usual. Why do you feel like a failure? Why do you feel like a fuck-up? Maybe it’s because of the effort you put into this man, unlike many others. You stand there in his doorway uncomfortably silent until you find it in yourself to offer some final words.

“We’re both adults, Yunho,” you remind him in a voice that airs on the more serious side of yourself. He’s never heard you sound such a way with him. “No one has to know what two grown adults do in their free time. And you don’t owe anyone any explanations.”

When he doesn’t look up from his paperwork anymore, you finally leave and gently close the door behind you.

Nearly a week after that day, your phone begins to ring while you’re out at a bar with friends. Yeosang’s nosy eyes catch the name on the screen and he gives you an incredulous look. His name still has a heart beside it and you haven’t updated him on anything regarding Yunho since telling him that you both were texting each other outside of class.

“What is he doing calling you at 9 PM, miss?” he teases as you move your phone to your lap, “Booty call?”

“Would you like to ask him yourself?” you snort.

“Boo, why can I never know anything–”

“Oh but when I mention the obvious hickey, I’m imagining things, huh?” Hongjoong interjects with narrowed eyes when he overhears you both bickering. “Who’s the mystery man?”

“It’s nobody,” both you and Yeosang say in unison.

Hongjoong quirks a brow at how you both are gazing at him with matching smiles, suspiciously. He lets it go quickly and instead butts into Mingi and his girlfriend’s conversation. By the time you glance at your phone, Yunho’s call has already gone fully unanswered. Subsequently, you chose not to return the call later when you’re done and home. You didn’t necessarily want to talk to someone who called such an intimate moment with you a mistake. And especially not intoxicated. If he wants to talk to me that bad, he’d just send whatever he needs to say in a text, you tell yourself. But, of course, those texts don’t come. Yunho doesn’t know how to express himself like that over message. However, after getting wasted, it takes everything within you not to text him first in a fit of overwhelming horniness. What’s the worst that could come from letting him know that you’re craving the feeling of that thick cock of his splitting you open, or how maybe this time you should test out your gag reflex? Yeosang knows you well enough to take your phone from you after a certain amount of shots, so you don’t get that opportunity anyway. God bless your best friend.

A couple of days later, you still find yourself unable to let things go. How can you when Yeosang brings it up any time you speak alone? For someone so sure you were making a huge mistake, he sure is desperate for the tea. It’s like he’s your frontline cheerleader (which he usually is anyway). If he found out you both fucked, surely he’d lose his mind.

“You can’t keep me in the dark, I’m still dying to know how much progress you’re making with Mr. Jeong after seeing him call you that night,” Yeosang pleads, “Have you both met up in private off of campus yet?”

“That’s classified info,” you state and try to stifle your subsequent laughter when you hear him grumble. You still hadn’t found it within yourself yet to tell him that your plan had failed. “You’ll know by if I pass this class or not.”

“Just a little hint, please? I’m on my knees.”

“Progress is being made, Yeo,” you disclose in a sing-song voice. Surely a little white lie wouldn’t hurt in the meantime, “He’s a very good conversationalist, you know. With that deep voice of his, and especially late at night.”

Yeosang groans in annoyance, “You’re killing me ____, I’m too curious! You didn’t entertain a single man at the bar, something juicy has to be happening.”

You debate on at least telling him about the extra study sessions you and Yunho had been having before things were soiled, the innocent stuff that he could gush and tease you over. But, just as you’re about to say something, he cuts you off unknowingly.

“Shit, Mingi’s calling. Le’me call you back,” Yeosang groans, and you offer a hum of affirmation before the line clicks. Maybe it’s for the best that you had been interrupted before you put your foot in your mouth.

You quickly fill the silence by shuffling one of your ‘Doing Chores’ playlists and focusing your mind on cooking the remainder of your dinner. A couple of minutes later, the chime of your phone interrupts your music. You continue to focus on stirring while your other hand carelessly presses the answer option.

“That was quick,” you giggle.

“Felt like forever to me,” a familiar, deep voice replies. You freeze and glance over to see Yunho’s name on the screen of your phone in place of your best friend’s.

Fuck.

“Good evening, Mr. Jeong,” you reply instead. “I thought you were someone else, my apologies.”

“Have we really already reverted back to the formalities?” he sighs and his voice already sounds a bit defeated.

You roll your eyes, “I’m a bit preoccupied right now. So unless you’d like to discuss my class work, I don’t have time to entertain this.”

“Just give me five minutes, please.”

You turn off the stove and snatch up your phone before ambling to your bedroom.

“Spit it out already, Yunho.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you ____,” he admits.

Hearing you say his first name makes him feel a smidge better, even if it’s in irritation. He wonders if you can feel his heart pounding through the speaker or the way it makes his fingers tremble while holding the phone. “I was just scared, you have to understand that at least. I told you I’ve never done that kind of thing before, ever.”

“Thought it was a mistake–”

“I only said that because you left without saying anything. I thought you regretted it!”

“I literally told you why I did that, you decided to not believe me apparently,” you counter, voice laced with the slightest bit of frustration as you sit on your bed. Then you add in a mutter, “Instead of talking with me like an adult.”

There’s a long moment of silence. He doesn’t hang up though, so neither do you. You stare at the timer under his name, continuing to count up seconds full of emptiness.

“I’m really sorry,” Yunho finally sighs. “I said a lot of things I didn’t mean. I was just scared.” You remain silent and it eats at his confidence slowly. He’s desperate and doesn’t really care if it shows at this point, so he goes on to fill the silence again, “You were right, we’re adults. It’s not anybody else’s business what happens outside of campus. That’s why I’m trying to fix things now. Please.”

You sigh heavily while stroking your temples. This conversation is not something you had prepared yourself for, but the desperation in his voice is hitting you right in the gut. You know he’s being sincere, but it’s just hard to make yourself that vulnerable as well. You both know the truth is that it’s not okay, none of this is. It’s all extremely inappropriate. What you are doing with each other could ruin both of your lives if found out before you graduate. It’s risky; and yet, you still find yourself saying a sentence you definitely shouldn’t be saying:

“Listen, I genuinely like you Yunho.”

“And I genuinely like you too, ____. So let me take you on a proper date,” he says a little too hastily, but he can’t stop himself from the excitement that bubbles inside of him, stemming solely from you even reciprocating his feelings, “And not just a dinner like usual, I mean something thoughtful.”

“Something thoughtful…” you repeat after him, accidentally punctuating it with a giggle at how foolish the whole situation seems. “Are you serious about that?”

“Absolutely,” he assures you, “Only if you want to, of course.”

You sigh and smile to yourself at how heartfelt he sounds. Sure, there are millions of ways this could go extremely wrong, but you decide to ignore those thoughts and take him up on his offer. If you were one to listen to the better part of your judgment, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into this situation in the first place. It would be a shame to let that work you put in go to waste just because of a little hiccup in the road. Besides, Yunho was surely the best fuck you had received in quite some time. There was plenty of time through the rest of the semester to explore that side of him again as well. The conversation ends with you both agreeing to meet with each other in a few days, Yunho promising to make it enjoyable even though it’ll be discrete.

♡ taglist for those who replied to my interest post: @yeos-bunny @sharksandminhos @sannieluvrr

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freedomfireflies · 1 year

Text

Show Me*

Summary: The second part to Teach Me*

Class is in session, and this time, Harry needs a little help exploring his favorite kinks. Like...how to get somebody off underneath a table.

And you're more than happy to lend a helping...hand.

Word Count: 6k

“So…how did she like it?”

Harry laughs as he slips out of his car. “Wow, I think that’s a new record. Waited a whole thirty seconds to ask me.”

“Bite me,” you retort as he makes his way toward where you’re waiting on the sidewalk. “Well?”

He shrugs, hands shoving into his pockets. “Dunno. We never got to it.”

“So, just straight to the fucking, then, huh?” you question. “No foreplay at all? I mean, hey…if that’s what she’s into…great. But, personally, I think the foreplay is the best—”

“All right,” he interjects with a wicked yet amused grin. “That’s not what I meant. She got called into work before we could.”

“Oh.” You offer him a pitiful frown. “Sorry, bud.”

“Bite me,” he mimics as he brushes past you. “S’fine. It’ll happen when it happens.”

“That’s the spirit,” you encourage as you fall in-line beside him. “Gives you more time to find your nerve.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, glancing down at the concrete. “Or more time to practice…other things.”

“Other things?”

“Yeah,” he says again, one brow raising as he looks back over. “You know, like…how to eat ass.”

Finally catching onto his joke, you groan and reach out to shove him away from you, watching as he stumbles with a laugh. “Fucking hilarious.”

“Listen, I was actually looking forward to it,” he continues, hand over his heart as if disappointed. “I bet you really know how to eat some ass.”

“Ha…ha.”

“What? You do, don’t you? Cause of…Eric?”

The familiar but dreaded name sends a shiver down your spine as you recoil away and scrunch your nose in horror. “Ew.”

He looks proud. “Well? Am I wrong?”

“Yes,” you huff before sighing. “…no. But he wasn’t that great of a teacher, anyhow.”

“No fucking kidding,” Harry snorts with a smile. “You’re much better.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” he beams, reaching out for the door of the restaurant to swing it open. “After you.”

“As it should be,” you tease, winking to hint at the double entendre, and his eyes roll.

You find your large group of friends already gathered around a table near the back of the room, and quickly make your way over.

For the next few minutes, you all exchange pleasantries, catch-up, and tease Harry about his failed attempt at mating.

He’s a good sport about it, flipping everyone off with a smile before changing the subject.

Because, despite the jokes, all of you know that Harry could have anybody he wanted. Maybe his experience in the bedroom is lacking but that’s only because it was a personal choice that he made. And everybody knows it. As far as charm and seduction go? Harry Styles is a king.

Perhaps even a God.

…no, that’s giving him too much credit.

You shake your head, clearing the thought away as you listen to your friends gossip about the newest celebrity drama and reality TV scandals.

And you try to care. Really, you do.

But your mind keeps…drifting.

To Eric.

God, you could just kill Harry for re-planting that seed in your subconscious and reminding you of the worst mistake you’ve ever made.

Because there was a time when Eric was everything to you. When you were closer to him than you were to Harry. When you trusted him—completely—with your mind, soul, and body.

And of course, he just had to shit all over the self-growth and progress you’d made.

You feel your phone vibrate from its place on your thigh, and you glance down to see Harry’s name flashing across the screen.

Sneaking a curious sideways peek his way, you swipe up to read his text.

So…Pete Davidson is Kim Kardashian’s stepfather now? Am I hearing that right?

Confused, your brows pull together as you look over at him.

His explanation is to nod at your friends across the table with a smirk, and you laugh.

I don’t know, you type. I wasn’t listening.

Oh? Why not? This is fascinating stuff.

Idk. Just wasn’t.

Harry’s expression seems to fall as he studies you before his fingers are flying across the screen. You were thinking about Eric, weren’t you?

…nooooooo.

His eyes narrow.

So what if I was?

Bee…you can do better than that. Even in your head.

See, you say that, and yet…here I am.

Because you’re not doing better. You can…you just aren’t.

Yeah? And how exactly would I do better?

You catch the way his lips pull back into a Cheshire-like grin as he begins to type.

Well, you kind of already did do better. With me. The other day.

Swallowing a scoff, you type, That was only because I felt bad for you.

Think you felt a lot of things that day, Bee. But bad wasn’t one of them.

You toss him a playful glare. Are you ever gonna let that go?

Not likely. After all, you did promise me another lesson.

You don’t need another lesson, you just need to stop being so goddamn annoying.

Come on, you can’t deprive me now. Not when I know I have so much to learn.

Google it.

Ouch.

You’ll live.

It’s not living if it’s not with you.

This time, you do groan, and reach over to swat his arm. “Stop,” you hiss. “You really are fucking annoying.”

“Learned from the best,” he retorts, leaning closer to you in an attempt to conceal the conversation. “Learned a lot of things from you, actually.”

“Harry,” you huff again, but you’re smirking. “My god, you don’t really wanna learn how to eat ass do you?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t really know what I wanna learn. That’s why I need a teacher. To teach me what I want.”

You know he’s fucking with you. You can see it all over his face and yet, for some reason…your interest is piqued. “Thought that was a one-time deal.”

“It was,” he agrees. “But…the door to knowledge is never closed.”

He follows this up with a devious chuckle to let you know he’s teasing, and you nudge him again. “See? Annoying.”

For a moment, you both put the topic to bed and return to the conversation happening across the table.

But again, your mind wanders.

Wanders all the way back to your bedroom and the image of Harry’s curls wound around your knuckles.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about that afternoon quite a few times since it happened. After all, you’re only human. And Harry had done a rather excellent job. Sure, you’ve had a tad better. But for his first time…it wasn’t half bad.

And you’d waited to feel weird about it after the fact…but you never did. Which was strange. The two of you returned to your normal routine as if it had never happened.

And you were certainly glad for that. So why is it that now, as the opportunity for a relapse is placed so obviously in your lap, are you not repulsed by it?

Why is it that you haven’t immediately shut the idea down? Laughed it off? Why is it that you’re…considering it?

Again?

You almost want to shudder at the very thought, but as you look over to the chair beside you and take in Harry’s relaxed smile as he listens to your friends talk…something seems to shift.

You will admit, since your little…experiment…you’ve begun to equate those kinds of memories and feelings with Harry instead of Eric.

And that’s another thing you wouldn’t dare complain about. You like the idea of being able to associate pleasure with someone that makes you feel safe. Secure instead of unhinged.

And perhaps this is a huge mistake…but suddenly, you can’t seem to see the harm?

He gets to learn how to make a woman feel good and you get to erase Eric from your past permanently.

What could possibly be so wrong with that?

Subtly, you clear your throat as you turn your head to him, calling his attention away as he raises a brow.

“Okay, so…if I were to agree to another lesson…” you begin hesitantly as his eyes grow wide. “I’d need a little…information.”

He angles his body toward you as well, murmuring, “Yeah? Like what?”

You think for a moment. “I don’t know…what kinds of kinks do you have?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats smugly, nodding his chin at you. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to help me find out?”

You quickly glance across the table to make sure nobody is listening as you lean in and whisper, “Well…I don’t even know where to start with you. You’re a virgin, it’s hard.”

“I’m not a virgin,” he corrects with a scoff. “I just…haven’t done it a lot since the first time.”

“Mhm,” you snort. “Doesn’t change the fact that if you don’t know what you like, there’s no way I’ll know.”

He studies you for a second, seeming to think. “Well…why don’t you tell me what you like? Maybe I’ll get some ideas.”

You hesitate. What do you like? “Uh…okay. I mean, I like pretty much everything, I guess.”

“Yeah? Like what? Name something.”

Well…shit. “Um…I don’t know. Have you ever heard of…exhibitionism?”

He runs his tongue over his teeth in thought, brows lifting up with intrigue. “I’m 27, I’m not dead.”

“Hilarious.”

“Why? S’that something you’re into?”

You swallow but force a relaxed and nonchalant demeanor. “Kind of, yeah. Fun to play with what’s mine when anybody could see.”

He almost seems impressed, leaning back as he looks at you. Really looks at you. “You don’t fucking say.”

“Okay, don’t make it a whole thing,” you whisper urgently, already swatting at him in warning. “It was just an idea. We can always think of something—”

“Show me.”

You pause. “Show you…what?”

He nods his chin at you. “Show me how you’d play with what’s yours when anybody could see.”

Your expression falls. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He nods. “I’m a vessel. Show me. Teach me.”

And maybe it’s the glass of wine offering you an extra ounce of courage, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve already done this once before, or maybe it’s the fact that it’s Harry…

But whatever it is, you reach out, and smooth your palm along his upper thigh, just to watch his breath catch. “Are you sure?” you ask softly, careful to keep beneath the suspicion of the group across the table. “Because I need to know if you can…handle it.”

You feel him tense, his fingers flexing across the tablecloth as he regards you. “I’ll handle anything you want me to.”

Your hand drifts a little higher. “And you’ll sit here? And be a good student?”

He shoots you a coy smile. “The best.”

A little higher. “And you know your safe word?”

“‘Stop,’” he answers, teeth tugging on his bottom lip. “Don’t think I’ll need it, though.”

“You might.”

“Won’t.”

“Maybe.”

“No fucking way.”

You slow to a stop, centimeters away from the rather obvious dip in his pants. “Don’t say that. Just use it. If you need to.”

His expression softens. “I know, Bee. I will. Promise.”

“Good.” So, with that and a deep breath, you take the plunge, ghosting your touch over his covered cock.

And it’s different this time because it’s you touching him. It’s his body in your hands and this far exceeds your usual high-five.

You aren’t sure what you expected. You kind of already know he’s big from the few times you guys have gone swimming together. And he’s accidently brushed up against you before when scooting past you and worn sweatpants that did absolutely nothing to help him hide an erection (another reason why you’re never watching a Margot Robbie movie with him again).

But feeling it now…knowing exactly what this man is in possession of…feels forbidden.

You keep your expression stoic, refusing to give him the satisfaction of your awe as you watch the way his lashes flutter.

“Easy,” you warn in a delicate whisper. “Rule number one…make a sound and I stop.”

His teeth grit as he leans back against his seat. “Fine.”

“Good.” You bring your fingers together until you can cup your palm around him, adding just the slightest amount of pressure before glancing back at your friends.

They’re laughing about something, you don’t really know what, but you smile and nod along as if absolutely enthralled.

And as the seconds pass, you feel Harry grow harder in your hand. Needier. He shifts at least three times a minute, clearly struggling to keep from bucking up into your touch.

You’re being as easy on him as you can. A few squeezes, a bit of palming, and some light brushing just to tease him.

He’s gripping onto the edge of the table so tight, you’re surprised it’s not shaking. But he’s restraining himself, as best he can, and you feel oddly…proud.

You maneuver a little closer, head dipping until your lips are close to his ear. To anyone else, it might look like you're merely trying to be heard over the loud music.

But Harry knows better.

"This...is where the fun is," you tell him. "Knowing it would be so easy to have you coming in your pants. Right here, right now. In front of everybody."

You add a bit more pressure and watch the way the veins in his arms begin to strain against his skin. The way the muscles in his jaw constrict and the way his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows.

“You feel it, don’t you?” you murmur as his fingers begin to scratch down the table, desperate to grab onto something. “Feel what it does to you…to be played with. Just like this…exactly like you wanted.”

He sucks in a quiet gasp for air as his head threatens to drop back, little curls falling across his forehead.

He’s not stopping you. And you know he won’t. He’ll happily let himself go right into his trousers, in front of the whole goddamn resturant. Right here, right now.

But that wasn’t apart of the lesson.

So, just when you can feel his resolve begin to crumble…you stop.

He exhales a long, deep breath, slumping into the chair as if completely drained of all energy, and you almost want to laugh.

“So…what did you learn?” you ask softly as you lean back in.

“That Eric’s a fucking ass,” he replies instantly, shooting you a lazy grin. “And that we’re definitely not kids in a tree house anymore.”

“No kidding,” you agree. “Anything else?”

He mulls this over, eyeing you closely. “That I think I’m more of a…hands-on learner.”

Your brow raises. “What does that mean?”

His answer comes in the form of his touch, hand outstretching for your leg, long fingers brushing across the hem of your dress. “It means…I need to see for myself.”

He pauses down by your knee in order to allow you the time to understand and either accept him or reject him.

But you simply blink, focus falling from his face down to your lap. “Ah…I suppose that makes sense.”

His lips roll into his mouth. “Mhm…what do you say, Teach?”

Your nose scrunches at the nickname but you smile. “I say practice makes perfect.”

And he wastes no more time in slipping beneath the fabric to travel up your thigh and toward your hips.

Now, you’re the one forced into restraint, a gasp immediately hitching in your throat as he brushes his thumb down the front of your underwear.

It instantly brings you back to the last time, and his touch, while familiar and oddly reassuring, makes your head spin.

You slowly look over at him, taking note of the way he’s so goddamn proud of your reaction, and the way he returns his attention to your friends.

Exactly like you had.

Because this is the lesson after all. The concept of teasing and torture and watching somebody come undone so easily.

The idea of getting caught.

You could tell from the moment you reached for him that this was something he was into. But even when he was trying not to thrust up into your hand, it was obvious that his interest lied with you and your pleasure.

With the idea of putting you under this sort of duress.

He really is a sadist.

Good to know.

"How's this for practice?" you hear him murmur as you become vaguely aware of the way he's scooted his chair closer to you.

You open your mouth, lips parted and ready to respond, but you can feel the beginning of a whimper threatening its escape.

So you swallow—thickly—and nod your head once.

"Good, then?" he asks, and you have to fight the urge to cross your legs over his hand. "Bee...I need you to speak."

But you can't fucking speak. The pressure of his touch has increased, and it feels so...so fucking good. "It's....yeah. Fine. It's fi—"

Suddenly, you gasp, and thankfully, it's lost beneath the jazz music still loudly playing through the restaurant.

But it's not lost on Harry, and you watch his smug smile expand as his teasing begins to slow. "Uh-uh," he tuts softly. "You know the rules. Make a sound...and I stop."

You exhale the singular word, "Har," and he hums.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. What?"

You have to physically fight the urge to whimper with desperation. Truth be told, he’s hardly even doing anything, but his hands…

You’d fucked up by sneaking a glance down at the tattooed skin disappearing beneath your dress. Because it’s sinful to feel the cold, metal of his rings brush against your warm thighs. Sinful to know he’s pressing his thumb into you just to feel the way you’ve begun to soak the material he’s so effortlessly playing with.

He…is sinful.

And then suddenly…his touch disappears. Retreats from between your legs as your mouth just about drops open.

And you could cry at the loss of contact because it felt so safe and so exciting. Teasing or not, it was so fucking good, and you hate him for making you go without.

But then…you learn why.

His fingers move to wrap around the edge of your seat, getting a good grip on it…before he yanks.

Your chair is forced closer to his, squeaking against the floor as he begins to smirk victoriously.

“There,” he declares quietly before his hand is returning to your lap. “Much better, don’t you think?”

And it is better because now he’s so much closer, and has so much more room, and you’re so fucking close to just throwing in the towel and hurling yourself at him. Friends be damned.

“Speak, Bee,” he repriminds after a minute of your silence, and instantly, you begin to squirm.

“Har,” you whisper, both begging him for his mercy and for his cruelty.

“What?” he replies evenly. “What do you need, hm?”

You, you think. “Can’t…s’just…”

“Come on,” he tsks. “Think you can do better than that, can’t you?”

But you can’t.

“Please,” you try again, a faint request.

“Please…what?”

“Har…”

“Uh-uh. Tell me. What?”

Again, you swallow, willing yourself to stay silent. "Har—”

“No.”

“Harry—"

"...Harry?"

This time, it's Charlie calling his name, and immediately, you go deathly still as you turn back toward your friends.

However, Harry is calm as he raises a brow. "Yeah?"

For a moment, the three across from you simply stare, rather curiously before Charlie says, "Oh, I was just asking how Tina is?"

You could almost moan with relief.

“She’s good, yeah,” Harry answers cooly, pointer finger hooking around the edge of the material on your thighs to pull it aside. “Yeah, real good. Been working a lot, so I haven’t seen her much.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” Jackie offers with a pout. “Is she nice? Will we like her?”

Harry laughs, head shaking with amusement as if he’s not dragging his thumb down your clit while you swallow a rather desperate whine. “She’s nice. I don’t know if we’ll ever make it that far, though.”

Caleb’s head tilts. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ve hung out, like…twice. S’not really that serious yet.”

And you almost snort, because to you…he seemed pretty serious about her.

But you suppose eating pussy doesn’t exactly require an engagement ring, and maybe he just wants a fuck buddy.

“Well…she still needs to pass the approval test,” Jackie argues with a wink. “And the fact that she strung you along for two months is not doing her any favors.”

“She was just making him work for it,” Charlie teases. “And he needs to be humbled, so I say good for her.”

“Please. Look at him,” she snorts. “He’s too pretty to be this dumb. Okay, he can do better than Tammy—”

“Tina,” Harry corrects before slowly easing the tip of his finger in, and your entire body goes rigid.

“—yeah, whatever. The point is…you can do better,” Jackie finishes proudly, shooting a pointed look toward Charlie.

Harry begins to smirk, slowly stealing a glance at you. “Yeah. Maybe we can all do better.”

Now curious, Caleb nods at you, and you do your best to control your reactions as he says, “Yeah, speaking of which…have you heard from…him?”

You shake your head quickly, mentally damning Harry to hell as he pushes in a bit further just to make it harder for you to reply. “Uh…no. Nope. Not since that night.”

“I’ll kill him,” Jackie tells you. “No, really. I will. I’ll hit him with my car and drag his dead body out to the woods, and watch the bears eat him.”

You breathe out a laugh, but it’s outrageously forced, and Harry can tell. “It’s…it’s fine. He’s…you know, we all move on. I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Harry says with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Yeah, you seem fine.”

“Oh, I am,” you murmur through a tight-lipped smile. “Fucking fantastic.”

“Good,” he hums before you can feel him curl upward. “Hope it stays that way.”

Your hands drop to the chair beneath you, and you grip onto the sides for dear life in an attempt to keep from reeling. “Thanks for your…concern.”

“Anytime,” he beams as you feel him slip out. “Just want you to…do and feel the best that you can.”

The wet pad of his finger then returns to your clit as he presses into it just to push it in a teasing circle.

Your eyes just about roll back as you quickly turn your face toward your shoulder and fake a cough. “Fuck…sorry,” you apologize hoarsely as your friends look on.

“Are you all right?” Jackie asks softly. “Sorry, we shouldn’t have brought him up. We can change the subject.”

“No, it’s…it’s fine,” you sigh, hoping to sound casual, despite the fact that you’re teetering on the edge of a wail. “Really, he’s just…a guy. Just some…stupid…sadistic…evil fucking…guy.”

And while the group across the table snorts their agreement, you see that Harry knows that jab was aimed directly at him.

He winks.

“I, uh…I need to go to the bathroom,” you suddenly declare, grabbing onto his wrist to forcefully shove it away before standing to your feet. “Be right back.”

“Feeling all right?” Harry asks innocently as he watches you push your chair in.

“Just delightful,” you reply before brushing your hands down the front of your dress. “Seriously, keep eating. I won’t be long.”

You leave the table before Harry can make another quippy remark, quickly making your way for the extravagant restroom in the back of the restaurant.

Honestly, you thought you had a little more self-control. You thought it wouldn’t be so easy to get you so on edge, and yet here Harry is, making you clench so hard in your chair, you nearly burst a blood vessel.

You lock the door behind you and make a beeline for the sink. You flip on the cool water and gently trail it down your arms and chest to cool yourself down as you will the ache between your legs to subside.

It’ll be easy to take care of once you get home, but you’re rather impressed with Harry’s commitment to…education.

And something about looking your friends in the eye as he played with your cunt like a toy was oddly invigorating.

Far more invigorating than it ever had been with…Eric.

You’ve no sooner smirked at this thought when your phone begins to buzz from its place on the counter.

Glancing down, you aren’t surprised to see a text from Harry, but it does make you laugh.

How’s it going?

Good. Just getting myself off before I come back, you answer.

Yeah? Texting me while you touch yourself? Hot.

Well, it’s not the first time.

A good minute passes before he responds, and you can easily imagine the way his eyes went wide.

Seriously?

Seriously. Why, is that weird?

Are you fucking kidding? No, it’s…I mean, it’s hot. Very, very hot.

Your brow raises. Yeah?

Kind of rude you never told me, though. Clearly I would have been of great help.

In my defense, I was a little…busy. It’s already hard enough to type with one hand.

And even if you aren’t exactly touching yourself right now…you aren’t lying about having done it before. Not on purpose, of course. He just happened to text you right in the middle of your alone time and needed an answer ASAP.

So…you’d answered.

Yeah? Do you need an extra hand? he replies next, and you chuckle under your breath as you lean against the sink.

Why, do you know someone?

Funny.

Thank you, I thought so.

Is that a yes, then?

I think I’m managing just fine.

Yeah? So you’re pinching your clit nice and tight for me?

You feel your breath hitch. This certainly isn’t helping. Obviously.

And you’re clenching around your fingers for me? How many you using? One? Two? Maybe three? Know you like to feel stretched.

“Fucking hell,” you whisper to yourself as you glance off into the bathroom. He’s trying to kill you.

Can’t really clench around anything when I have to keep answering these texts. Go eat your food and leave me to it.

And what kind of student would I be if I did that?

An obedient one.

And does that sound like me?

“Nope,” you respond aloud, but type, You have been so far.

Think I’d be more obedient if I finished what I started.

I mean…maybe if you knew how.

You wait to watch the bubbles roll across your screen, but when they don’t come, your heart sinks.

And then…there’s a knock.

A rather fervent and determined knock that makes you jump as you look toward the door.

“Bee…let me in.”

Shit. “I…uh, I’m a little busy.”

“I know,” comes the deep, sultry reply. “So, let me in.”

“Har—”

“Open the goddamn door, Bee, before I break it down.”

Clearing your throat, you put your phone aside and cautiously tiptoe toward the door.

After sliding the lock over, you pull it back just a hair, and peek through the crack. “Uh, hi. Sorry, this bathroom is a little occupied at the moment—”

His large hand comes out to press against the wood as he forces it open and steps inside. “Are you okay?”

You blink at him before scrambling to push it closed and relock it. “Uh…yeah? Why?”

He strides a bit further into the bathroom before turning around to look at you, almost as if suspicious. “Honestly? I kind of thought you came in here to hide from me.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know.” His arms cross over his chest. “I know you didn’t actually come in here to fuck yourself, so I thought…maybe you just felt uncomfortable.”

“Oh, yeah? And how do you know I didn’t come in here to do that?” you retort.

He smirks. “’Cause you always use both hands. And if you were texting me…you weren’t fucking yourself.”

“And how do you know I use both hands?”

He shrugs. “You told me once.”

Oh…right. “Well…maybe I was multi-tasking.”

“You weren’t,” he rejects immediately. “No, I think you either came in here to hide from me…or because you were upset about what they said. You know, about…him.”

An invisible fist snaps closed around your heart as you stare at the man across from you. The devious intentions and teasing from before are long gone as the man you’ve known for years, your best friend…stands before you.

The concern is evident on his face as you take a step closer. “Har…honestly, I’m fine. I wasn’t hiding from you, and I really don’t care about Eric. I came in here to keep myself from coming all over your fucking hand.”

The corner of his mouth twitches with the temptation to smile, but his gaze remains skeptical. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You nod, taking another step. “Come on, I think it’s a little late to start questioning me now, don’t you?”

He sucks on his teeth. “Well…I can never tell with you.”

“I feel like I made my enjoyment quite clear.”

“I thought so, too. Until you made me stop.”

Now, only inches away from him, you come to a halt. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly feel like explaining why I moaned to our friends, you know?”

His thumb rubs across the skin of his arm as he peers down at you. “Thought that was the whole point of exhibitionism.”

You shrug, eyes falling across his features. “Yeah…or maybe I just wanted to keep you to myself.”

His brow cocks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You know…like a secret.”

Instantly, he grins, exhaling a laugh at the reminder of the pact you two made when you were younger. “We are good at secrets.”

“The best,” you agree giddily before the laughter dies out, and something seems to shift within his expression.

“Then I think it’s only fair we finish the lesson,” he says quietly, leaning a bit closer as you begin to still. “After all…I still need to show my work.”

Your lashes flutter, the smell of his cologne beginning to overwhelm you. God, why does he always smell so good? “Guess…guess that’s only fair,” you agree faintly, and he seems pleased.

His head dips, nose brushing yours as he works to catch you off guard. “Then tell me what to do, Bee. And I’ll do it.”

It comes out before you can stop it. “Kiss me.”

He’s surprised by this request, going momentarily quiet but you don’t miss the way his focus falls to your lips, as if pondering.

“Kiss me,” you repeat, fingers itching to latch onto the back of his neck. “And this time…do it right.”

He seems impressed as he fights an arrogant smirk. “Right, huh?”

“Yeah.” You straighten up, bringing your mouths a tad closer, but still without contact. “Know you can. Know you know how to be gentle, don’t you?”

And almost as if in retaliation, his hands find your hips, squeezing rather harshly as he begins to back you up toward the wall.

When you collide with it, he grins. “Dunno about that.”

“Try,” you whisper, hands dancing up his chest. “Trust me, you’ll get a lot more points that way. The right kiss can do everything, and I promise…she’ll love it.”

He considers this for a moment, studying you closely before you feel his palm delicately cup your cheek.

He tilts your head back as he moves in, deliberately slow. “Everything, huh?”

You smile, nodding once. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Everything.”

He kisses you.

Soft, and careful, and sadistically tame. He kisses around your mouth, peppers kisses to your bottom lip, to your cheek, to the line of your jaw.

He keeps his tongue from you, and you almost huff because after everything, you think you at least deserve a taste.

And finally, once you’re moments away from wilting in his hands, he takes that taste for himself.

Your head spins and your mind goes blank and everything makes sense.

Because kissing him is fun, and it makes you want to laugh, and kiss him forever, and never leave this one spot.

And you’re so enchanted by this revelation that you don’t notice his hand traveling between your bodies to return to its home between your thighs.

But he slips underneath your dress without a moment's delay, fingers returning to their work of pulling your panties aside to finish what he started. And when you gasp into the kiss…he swallows the sound with ease.

“Is that right, hm?” he teases as he slides in. “That good?”

Your lashes flutter closed as he presses his forehead to yours, and you don’t offer a response because he already knows.

His precision just about kills you. In, out, in, curl, twist, pinch, pull. You can feel the drip down your thighs, can hear the sounds he’s making, can taste his desperation in each kiss he gives you.

And when you suddenly whine and squirm in his hold, he smiles. “There it is, yeah? Right there…s’what you needed, isn’t it?”

It is. It’s exactly what you’d needed, and he strokes the spot with fervor and just a touch of wonder.

It’s cruel and it’s wonderful and it feels so fucking good, and nothing else makes sense to you except him.

Just him and the way you’re about to come undone by his hand for a second time.

You nuzzle your face into his neck, lazily kissing under his ear, and he seems to sigh with contentment as he braces you both against the wall to continue.

“Come on, Bee…know it’s gotta hurt, doesn’t it?” he coos, but his voice is thick. “Know it hurts, so give it to me, yeah? Just give it to me. Let me make it better.”

And it overwhelms you, consumes you, controls you. His smell, his touch, his words. The past, the present, him. Just him. Only him. Right now. Everything.

The sound that rips from your throat feels foreign to you. It’s loud and desperate and eager, and he presses his lips to yours to be a part of it.

It goes for what feels like hours, but time doesn’t have a place here. It could have been ten seconds; it could have been ten minutes. You don’t know, you don’t care.

You just…let it.

And you don’t realize the way you’ve slumped into his embrace as he holds you up, keeps you steady.

You don’t realize he’s speaking to you, murmuring words of encouragement with just a hint of teasing.

You don’t realize he’s refusing to let go.

But once you do, you realize something else, too:

You don’t want him to let go.

"Think we might have a problem," he whispers after a moment, lips following the curve of your shoulder as he offers a few parting kisses.

Your head falls back against the wall and you take a few deep breaths. "Yeah? And what's that?"

"Well...you kind of fucked up," he begins as he moves to the other side of your neck, sucking on the vein just below your ear. "You gave me a taste, showed me what I've been missing."

You can feel yourself smile through the haze as his hands continue to grope at your waist.

"I mean, just knowing..." he continues, nosing under your jaw, "...you've been keeping so much knowledge from me...this whole time."

Your laugh is airy as you reach up to comb through his curls. "Is that right?"

He hums as he nods, the palm of his hand slowly smoothing up your stomach, pushing the hem of your dress along with it. "And now I don't know if I can go without. Feel so fucking insatiable...just thinking about what else you might be hiding from me."

With this, his fingers delicately ghost under the curve of your tit, forcing you to arch into his touch as he smirks.

"And what is it...you want to know?" you manage to reply, voice soft and nearly inaudible.

He pulls back and meets your eye.

"Everything."

Shit.

"Everything?" you murmur, subtly tugging him closer.

"Everything," he repeats. "Anything. All of it. You. Me. Us. Every fucking second, every fucking way."

You know what he's proposing. Know exactly what this means, but you don't know if a friendship would survive.

And you don't know which is more important.

"So...what do you expect me to do?" you ask breathlessly, still squirming beneath his hold.

He smiles. "I expect you...to show me."

"Show you," you repeat, as if in a trance.

"Show me," he whispers, moving back in to lick at your bottom lip. "Teach me. How to be better. How to be right. How take care of you. Wanna give you everything you need."

"Everything," you breathe.

"Everything." His other hand gently comes up to cradle the back of your neck. "Whatever you want, whatever you need. Tell me and I'll give it to you. Promise."

But what do you need?

"Are you sure?" you ask, softly pushing on his chest to garner his attention. "It's not like teaching you to play pool, Har. Exploring kinks is...delicate. Sacred. It's not a game."

"I know," he replies, sobering ever-so-slightly. "That's why it can't be anybody else. It has to be you."

It has to be you.

"Why?" you challenge.

He simply offers you a knowing look. "Why wouldn't it be?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek, looking for a reason to say no. Looking for the strength to know better.

But maybe you don't know better.

Maybe you just know him.

"Teach me," he says again, thumb stroking your jaw as those familiar eyes bleed right through to your heart. "Make me better."

Better.

Everything.

Nothing else makes sense. Nothing else feels right.

Just him.

"Okay," you agree quietly, and his entire face lights up. "For science."

"For science," he repeats, dipping down to press his lips to your cheek in thanks. "But only if you're sure. I'd never want you to agree just because of me. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

He leans back. Frowns. He's unconvinced. "I mean it, Bee. I'm not asking just because I can. I’m asking because…it feels like something we both want. But if it's not—"

You kiss him again, stealing the rest of his argument. "I know how to say no to you, Harry. Think you should know that by now."

He smiles against your mouth. "Guess so."

For the next minute or so, you don't speak. He simply takes hold of your face with both hands and paints his gratitude across your tongue.

"So...where do you wanna start?" you ask when he finally allows you a second of reprieve.

"You tell me," he reminds you, and you feel yourself smirk.

"All right," you agree before slipping your fingers through the loops on his pants.

His eyes go wide.

Then, you tug.

"Let's start...with everything."

You bet your ass there’s gonna be a part 3, because now that they’ve opened the door…there’s no closing it 😗 and Harry’s got a long list of new kinks to discover! And I’m strangely excited about it?? This is concerning?? Pray for me???

Next Part:

~ Hurt Me* (Pt. 3)

Previous Part:

~ Teach Me* (Pt. 1)

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tags:

@tiaamberxx @harrystylesfan2686

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sardonic-the-writer · 8 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐬 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: scout, engineer, heavy, medic, sniper, and spy (i forgot demo i'm so sorry)

↳ warnings: bad translations, slight mentions of world war two and malpractice

↳ song: with a little help from my friends—joe cocker

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐭

• He would be so smug about it

• Puffing his chest out and everything

• His friends in the past- and even family members -have teased him for mispronouncing words or speaking too fast, and it’s made him a bit self conscious about the way he talks. But after hearing that you find it endearing, its a giant ego boost for him

• “Yeah dat’s right! Who’s awesome? I’m awesome!” Scout smiles as he flexes his arms in your face, subjecting you to what he likes to call a surprise gun show. You pretend to hate it as you shove his arm away, but chuckle all the same

• He’s already gloated before that he already knew his accent was the best. Boston is the greatest place in the world after all! But hearing it from you really just sent him over the moon

• Makes a point to talk to you a lot more now; as if he didn’t already

• “Yo! Hey did you see that kill out there? I totally messed dat Spy up! One wrong step and pow! He’s dead meat!”

• “I saw Scout. I was covering your flank while you did it, remember?”

• “Yeah yeah, but I just thought you’d like ta hear about it again.”

𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐫

• Didn’t consider himself to have an accent until you pointed him out

• Sure, he says the occasional y’all and ain’t, but not enough to qualify as a whole different way of speaking

• It wasn’t until he dropped a hammer on his foot and cursed that he understood what you’d meant

• “What in the sam hill! Sweet hell!” He’d exclaimed, startled. Once the throbbing in his leg had subsided, Engineer replayed his words in his head, making a slight o with his mouth as he realized you were probably right. To some extent at least

• He was a born and raised Texas boy, so it makes sense that the culture rubbed off

• Doesn’t understand at first that you find it nice. Maybe he thought you pointed it out just because you could? He’s a bit distracted when it comes to anything but machinery, so he misses context sometimes

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲

• Surprised that someone like you who can speak English fluently finds his mannerisms attractive

• Gets frustrated sometimes when he can’t remember certain words in English. Heavy is a very smart man, so it aggravates him when he looks illiterate in front of his team

• That’s why hearing that you like his mother tongue caught him by surprise

• “But you don’t know any Russian?” He’d rumbled out as a question. When you shook your head no, still sporting a smile, his eyebrows furrowed further

• “Nah. But I like hearing it when it comes from you. It sounds more natural. Like you’re more comfortable than normal, you know?”

• You’re technically right. When Heavy slips into Russian, often whilst talking to Sasha or simply forgetting that not everyone on the team know how to speak it, he is more comfortable in his words. They flow better, and he’s flattered that you’ve noticed

• One hundred percent offers to teach you Russian in his spare time. He finds it slightly adorable how you stumble over words in your broken translations, but always manages to softly correct you

• He’s a really good teacher

𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜

• Positively thrilled that you like his voice

• When you tell him for the first time, he goes into shock for a moment before breaking out into the biggest smile you’ve seen. Somehow its a perfect balance between excited and malicious

• “Do you hear zhat Archemedies? Mein freund here enjoys my accent!” He cooes at his bird, chuckling in a way that would make anyone’s insides squirm

• Once you look past Medic’s initially devious reaction, it’s very clear he enjoys knowing this

• If anything, the ex-doctor would have thought that you’d enjoy the more stereotypically romantic sounding languages. Spanish, Latin, etc

• German has always been considered harsh or scary sounding, and it turned a lot of people away from hiring him after the events of World War Two, which he understood. Still, Medic finds himself absolutely tickled that you are drawn to his accent

• Finds himself slipping more and more into German while doing checkups on you now. When he catches himself, he translates most of what’s he’s said back to you. But sometimes he’ll simply forget, and it leaves you wondering if he’s offered you a glass of water or the opportunity to swap your bladder out

• You sincerely hoped it was the former

𝐒𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

• Oh my god you killed him

• Sniper is very reserved. Living in his camper, hunting his own game for dinner instead of joining the others, literally pissing in jars, etc etc

• Being a man of few words comes part and parcel with that; which normally works out just find because Scout talks enough for ten people

• Hasn’t said much to you before. He mostly communicates in head nods or slight tilts of his coffee mug in your direction. Maybe a few ‘good mornin’s’ tossed around, but nothing more than that

• “You know, you should talk more.” You’d said to him one day while pouring a fresh pot of tea you had just boiled into your own mug. He preferred black coffee himself, but whatever floats your boat

• “You voice.” You elaborated after a sip. You must have noticed his confused look as you carried on. “It’s nice. Can’t imagine that you don’t have gals throwing themselves at you all the time because of it.”

• Suddenly very grateful he wasn’t drinking any of his brew at the time, because what you said surely would have made him choked

• He, in fact, had had a few ladies approach him in town before saying something along the same lines. Even a few fellas. But nothing made him blanch this strongly like you had

• Excuses himself as he walks out of the room suddenly, tilting his hat down to cover his face no one can see the furious red tint forming

• Sniper leaves you in the communal kitchen. Holding a steaming cup of liquid and looking very confused

𝐒𝐩𝐲

• Already knew before you told him

• To anyone else, it would have been passible as just curiosity. But Spy’s job is to know things, and it is an undeniable fact that you found his voice attractive

• Doesn’t utilize this weapon often. You are not a weak willed person swayed by just a few words, so when he needs something he pulls out all the stops

• Of course, that doesn’t stop him from being impressed when you eventually admit your little not-so-secret-secret to him. And of your own free will. He didn’t have to pry it out of you, which was a feat on its own

• Much like Heavy, he extends the offer of teaching you how to learn his language. Now that he no longer has this knowledge as a bargaining chip, he might as well seize the opportunity to teach you a proper language

• Considers using electroshock therapy to condition you faster, but nixes it pretty quick

• Again, like Heavy, he finds it cute how horrible you are at French. More amused than anything, but he can appreciate the way you practice verbs in your free time even when he isn’t leaning over your shoulder

• That you know of, that is

• Praises you often in french, letting excited phrases slip when you nail a particularly hard set of words

• “Merveilleux ! Tu t’améliores beaucoup, ma petite. Encore une fois.”

• While you don’t understand the full extent to his words, you smile and continue on, eventually realizing what he had said later in a fit of embarrassment

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slvt4em1lyprenti2s · 15 days

Text

Forbidden Love: Chapter 1 Next Chapter

Shy?

Masterlist

Criminal Minds Masterlist Emily Prentiss Masterlist

Summary: Professor!Emily x fem!student reader, what happens when profesor prentiss and the reader finally give into their feelings?

Word count: 1.5k

TW: Making out, I think that’s it?

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x female reader

A/N: Should I make this a series? Idk it might be fun!

Studying behavioural profiling is, well, different. It’s like science, criminology and psychology and smooshed into one subject. But the best thing about it, you ask? The teacher. Emily Prentiss is the most divine woman to ever step foot on this earth and no one can tell me otherwise. The way she strides along the front of the lecture all, her raven hair that falls in front of her face when she bends down to click something on her laptop, her eyes that always seem to find mine in a room full of students, her veiny hands that brush over mine when giving back a test. Ugh god, I swear I’m falling in love with this woman.

It’s 7:45 am on a Wednesday and I’m walking across campus so I can get to lesson a little early to touch up my notes from my other class with Agent Morgan and to go over my- okay I’m bullshtting I just want to see Emily. And to be honest, I think I’m one of her more favourite students so I think she doesn’t mind me being early.

I push open the door to the lecture hall and start walking down the steps, laptop bag slung over my shoulder that contained notebooks, pens, pencils etc, all the essentials. In my hand I held a travel coffee mug with my favourite hot chocolate in it because I wasn’t too partial to coffee. As I reach the front row I notice that Professor Prentiss has been following me with her eyes and watching the sway of my hips as I walked in. ”Morning Professor.” I try to say as if her eyes all over me weren’t causing a blush to creep up my neck. I took a quick check behind me finding out I was the only one in the room.

“Hi, y/n. How are you today?” She asked her eyes staring into mine, genuinely curious.

”Good thank you, tired but good, what about you?” I smile as she chuckles lightly at my comment.

“Just about the same as you darling.” She replies with a smirk on her face seeing my face instantly bloom with red at the pet name. I shuffle my bag slightly before she says “I was out on a case for the last two or so days and I, only just, made it back in time to teach you guys. Lucky me hey? The only reason I’m even slightly okay with having to wake up at the ass crack of dawn is because of students like you. You actually listen and care, god knows that kind of work ethic is rare these days.” Emily looks exhausted and about ready to jump into bed at any second but the words that she said seem to cloud my head so I don’t pay much attention to her disheveled state.

Students like me? What does that even mean? Well, she explained what it meant but I still wasn’t convinced. Nonetheless I responded “Yeah, it really is. All the people in this class want to be profilers or something along the lines of such and yet none of them take their education seriously. I want to throw something at them every time they talk over you. I might actually do it one day, it's so annoying!” She smiles fondly at my words making a cage of butterflies escape into my stomach and I smile back.

“Now, I can’t have you throwing things at people, can I now sweetheart? That’ll get you kicked off the course. And I don’t think you want that, I certainly don’t want that, and besides don’t worry about the others. You’re doing amazing ah, that reminds me can you stay behind at the end? I just want to speak to you about your grade on our most recent exam. It’s nothing bad, I promise. You’ve done exceptionally well, in fact so well that I want to talk to you about further opportunities you have open to you.” She places her hand on my shoulder as we now stand face to face, she got up halfway through talking to lean on the front of her desk. I smile and subconsciously lean into her touch. The remains of the blush from the pet names yet again lingers but I say a small “Thank you Professor.”

At that moment the door to the lecture hall swings open revealing another student in their own little world unaware of the building tension in the room. I give her one last smile and go make my way to a seat in the front row. I get out my laptop and notebook and start writing the dates and titles. I could feel eyes on me the whole time, I look up and lock eyes with Emily, finding her already looking at me. She sent me a wink and glanced back down at whatever she was working on. A crimson flush invaded my face and I returned my eyes to my page.

After the lesson I packed up slower than normal so that I’d be able to stay behind a little longer than she probably ment. I put my laptop in my bag and zip it up and grab my now empty hot chocolate. I walk up to Profesor Prentiss’ desk and find she’s already looking at me, again.

“You know, you should stop staring at me so much. People might get the wrong idea.” I say, suddenly feeling confident, a teasing smirk on my lips.

“What if I want them to get the wrong idea? What if I want them to think you’re mine?” I quickly shut up at that remark, all my confidence suddenly disappeared and I turned into putty. Heat rose to my cheeks and my head dipped to avoid her piercing gaze, it wasn’t mean, more admiration. But, any look from Emily Prentiss is intense. “Cat got your tongue honey?” She had a shit eating grin on her face as she saw me nod slowly.

“Anyway, your grade! Okay you scared the highest in the class, and you got full marks. This isn’t anything new for you I'm sure, you’re a bright young woman. But, scoring this high in a test this hard, it opens doors for you. So, I’m here to offer you a chance to shadow me and the team for a week to see how we handle cases and what the job entails really. I also wanted to let you know that if you have any interest in joining the team I would accept you in a heartbeat. You’re a brilliant profiler.” Yet again for what feels like the millionth time today, heat rises to my cheeks. She stalks the way round her desk and stands in front of it.

“That sounds amazing, oh my god, really?” A smile broke out on my face immediately. She looked pleased at my reaction and took a step closer.

“Yeah of course really, why would I joke?” She laughed softly. I muttered a small ‘true’ and kept shamelessly checking her out as she still came closer to me and lowered her lips down to my ear and whispered, “Do I make you nervous darling? Is that why you get all shy whenever I’m around?” I nodded again while looking down, her hand found my chin and tilted it up. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” I felt a strange tingling in my lower stomach as she said that.

I looked her in the eye and she bought me closer. “Is this okay?” she muttered, her breath fanning across my face due to the proximity.

“Yes.” I breathed out. That was all the confirmation she needed to softly press her lips to mine. She held me like I might break at any minute, so tentative and caring it made my heart flutter. My hands found their way around my waist and I pulled her closer. She moved us around so now I was the one against the desk as she deepened the kiss, her tongue moving into my mouth. I instantly let her take control of the kiss and press her hips against mine. A small whine left my lips and I lent into her arms which were on my hips.

She pulled away and looked into my eyes before whispering, just to me even though there was no one else there, “I don’t want this to just be a fling, just to make that clear.” I smiled wide and pecked her lips once more.

“Neither do I.” She pulled me in again and we kissed with smiles on both of our faces. We knew we would have to be a secret for a while obviously but it didn’t stop me from fantasising about what was to come.

#wlw #lesbian #wlw fanfic #lesbian pride #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #sapphic #criminal minds #wlw pride #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x y/n

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pspaura27-blog · 1 month

Text

Uncle Sukuna

When he is a student

Sukuna isn’t welcomed at all at the sorcery world. Please, this is a descendant of a fucking King of curses. What if he went berserk?

His attitude doesn’t help either. He has tattoos and piercings. He also scowls at people and flips them off.

[[actually helps an old lady cross the road because Wasuke teaches him to help people but shh, he has a reputation to maintain]]

His only classmate is Kamo Kaori who comes to Tokyo especially to observe him. This mad scientist drivenness doesn’t help convince people that she’s not Noritoshi reincarnation.

Sukuna thinks she is super creepy and he wants to smack that chilly smile off her face.

Anyway, they get along(?)

“Woman, stop fucking follow me!”

“Now, dear, but I get scared alone.”

“Like fucking hell you are!” Sukuna glares. “I saw you dissect that damn curse with your bare hand!”

“Then I get lonely alone.” Kaori sighs. “You’d not chase a fragile little woman to wander alone in this haunted house, right? We’re classmates after all.”

Like shit she is a fragile little woman. If anything, she is a fucking bloody Mary.

Sadly, Jin does think she is a little woman. Fragile is up to debate but certainly beautiful.

Sukuna regrets the day he allows Jin to visit him in Tokyo. Urgh, his friend and his twin banging? He’d rather chop his fingers off.

“YOU’RE BLIND, FUCKING BRAT, THAT WOMAN WILL EAT YOU ALIVE AND FLUSH YOUR BONES DOWN THE TOILET!”

He is still the best man at their wedding.

Well, back to academic thingy, Sukuna totally aces history and Japanese subjects. His guilty pleasure is writing a poet.

Kaori steals it and Sukuna chases her around the Campus to cut her ugly ass. Many trees don’t survive that day.

He also goes overboard on his mission, cutting this and that, and Kaori just stands by and watches.

He is Yaga’s worst nightmare, which is why Yaga hires Sukuna as a teacher. Karma is a bitch and that bitch is Gojo Satoru. But we will get into that later.

He almost always tears his uniform during a fight somehow. And got arrested once for public indecency.

Kaori points at the photo. And that is your uncle in his student year.”

“Whoa, why did he have four eyes?”

“That’s just a makeup, dear, your uncle used to suffer from this Chuunibyou disease where he believed himself to be—”

“WHAT NONSENSE ARE YOU SPEWING AGAIN, WOMAN?!!”

Sukuna has a reputation to maintain in front of his nephew after all.

#jjk #jjk 257 #yuji itadori #sukuna #uncle sukuna

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yanderederee · 5 months

Text

SocialCues

a/n: Been feeling a little down lately.. very self-comfort, but I hope anyone else who has deep rooted anxiety and poor social skills can appreciate this…

cw: depictions of bullying and self-degradation/anxiety. Angst/Comfort

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Why did this always happen? How, even?

You seriously couldn’t wrap your head around how you always found yourself in these damned situations…

After being left alone at your desk, you quietly listened as the classmate who had just walked away whispered to themselves.

“What a freak…”

What did you even do? A freak? You were rightfully polite and pleasant, just as you always have been.

Did you say something wrong? Something weird? All you did was ask your classmate about their dog. Out of all the subjects you were taught to bring up in conversation, pets and hobbies were a universal win. (Strictly of the other person, because if you started going on a rant about your own pet or hobbies, you would make the person feel awkward and at a loss for words.)

How is it you always had a way of making everyone you talk to feel so awkward and bored?

But it was so lonely being forced into submissive quietness. You may have hated that more than the quiet glares of others. So still, you try to do your best and talk to people.

But only after a month of trying, it was evident that others were beginning to avoid you. To avoid talking to you. Avoiding eye contact.

You repeated what you’ve been told over and over again.

Saying less is more.

Use considerate language; words and phrasings.

Don’t make the conversation about yourself.

Avoid too specific points of conversation.

Read their facial expressions.

If they look desperate to leave, end the conversation quickly as to not bother them further.

Maybe being too conscious of what you said was your downfall?

But seriously, what else could you do? If you tried being casual, you make it awkward. If you tried too hard, you make it awkward. And if you don’t try at all, you force yourself into isolation.

Once lunch time rolled around, you started your way to the bathrooms to wash your hands before eating. How could you eat when your hands were covered in eraser shavings and lead stains? However, just at the threshold of the bathroom entrance, you could hear a conversation.

“L/n just doesn’t know when to shut up, does she?”

“Seriously! I can’t even get in a word with her!”

“Really? I just felt like she wasn’t even there when I tried talking to her! Like, she was waiting for me to ask her questions or something.”

“She asks way too many questions, like, why are you so obsessed with me?”

“She doesn’t really have much of a personality, I can’t stand people like that!”

“I dunno, I just can’t stand her.”

Honestly, they were pretty loud. People around the bathroom could definitely hear whoever it was talking.

You honestly didn’t even know how to react.

Maybe this was a good thing? At least this way you knew what you were doing wrong. Unfiltered criticism on how you could do better. So silently, you stood and listened.

It really hurt, hearing people talk about you like this. But it was your fault in the first place. Suck it up. Do better. Be better.

Holding back your tears, you fidgeted with your fingers. It was no good. You were bound to burst out in tears at any second.

“Oi.” Out came a sudden call. Startled, your heart leapt out of your chest. Looking up, you saw your classmate, Baji Keisuke, holding three filing boxes of what you assumed to be pre-graded tests and other miscellaneous paperwork. “Lend me a hand, would ya? Teach wants these taken to the teachers lounge before lunch’s over.”

It took you a few seconds to properly register that he was actually talking to you. Though it was hard to tell, given his huge thick rimmed glasses. Once it finally clicked that he was actually talking to you, a wave of embarrassment hit you hard.

“Me? Oh, uhh… o-okay.” You agreed slowly, looking at your dirty hands. You guessed it would be more suitable to wait to wash your hands after carrying a dusty box. Somewhat relieved, you nodded and walked over to your black haired classmate, gingerly shifting the top most box out of his face, into your grip. “Just this one is fine, or should I grab another..?”

You began to ask, until you were met with awkward silence.

SHIT. YOU DID IT AGAIN? Already? Embarrassed to the point of tears, you started down. “S-sorry, dumb question.”

Your classmate seemed disgruntled at your comment. Self pity never looked good. You were just digging yourself into a more massive hole. Just shut up and take the boxes.

Lift your fair share.

Almost forgot that rule.

Just as you went to shuffle the second box out from his grasp, your class mate stepped back. “I got these, just the one is fine.” He said.

“Just the one?” You asked.

“Yeah.. I mean, not to sound like an ass— I mean, um…” he clicked his tongue, trying to think of a better way to rephrase his comment.

“You can say ass, I don’t care.” You giggled quietly. You were faking it a little, what with how shot your confidence was already. But it was cute watching Baji flounder for the right words.

“Right. What I mean is, I’m probably stronger than you are, carrying these isn’t any issue. I just needed help with the third one since it was blocking my view.”

That made sense. He was damn near a foot taller than you after all. And he didn’t seem to struggle with the load in strength. Your silence made your classmate a little on edge.

“I ain’t trying to call you weak or anything. Shit. Just.. lets go.” He huffed before starting his way to the stair case.

Following close behind, you were scrambling your head with how to reply. Do you need to reply? But he sounded a little unsure of his own phrasing, sometimes validation was good for these kinds of situations.

‘It’s okay, I didn’t think you were calling me weak.’

Simulating the conversation in your head, you give up, rationalizing that your comment would more than likely go unanswered anyway.

Lost in these thoughts, you trailed behind Baji silently.

That’s right.

When it doubt, just be quiet. Just. Be quiet.

And it seemed your classmate was content with this as well.

Just as you were rounding the stairs, you were suddenly overwhelmed by a group of boys roughhousing with one another, laughing and unbothered. Before you even had the chance to move out of their way, a boy had rammed into your side hard. This caused for a series of unfortunate events.

Being as you were just making your way down the stairs, this rash shove caused you to lose your balance, trip over your feet, and topple forward. It wasn’t pretty. You definitely did at least one summersault on your crash down, the box of papers you held flying everywhere. What would have made it worse was if you had crashed into Baji on your way down, but luckily for both of you, he had walked at a much quicker pace, and had already reached the bottom of the staircase before your topple.

It was dead silent. Luckily, there weren’t too many students around, but there were enough. The boys looked back to one another, contemplating if they could just run off before you realized who they were, stay and help, or even apologize. You were the weirdo of their class after all, it’s not like these kinds of things didn’t just… happen.

“The hells your guys’ problem, huh?!” Baji yelled. It was really loud, louder than you’d ever heard him before. “Got a death wish or somethin’? Help pick this shit up, now!”

Hell with his reputation, this shit pissed him off way more than his tempter would allow him to suppress.

“R-right!” The boys who’d bumped into you nodded and scrambled to pick up all the scattered papers. “And apologize!” Baji yelled a second time, furious that they hadn’t even considered to do that first.

“We’re really sorry!! We weren’t looking, it was an accident!! We’re sorry!” They groveled low to the ground as they cleaned up the mess of their own making.

Baji huffed, but seeing as they were doing exactly as he told, he let it be for now. He sat his own boxes down gently, squatting over to help you up. “Hey, you okay?” He asked.

“No—“ you snapped in a sarcastic tone, but it was only out of bubbling up frustration and humiliation. Clearing out your throat, before he would reply, you started to pick up the papers scattered at your bruised knees. “Yeah, sorry. I’m okay; just didn’t expect it.. sorry I dropped the box. Sorry.” You repeated quietly, head hung low.

You only ever made trouble. If you’d just moved out of the way faster, you wouldn’t have messed up so harshly. Even if they were clearly in the wrong, if you’d just caught your footing instead of tripping, none of this would have happened.

“Come on, these bastards can take the rest from here.” Baji glared while his glasses slipped past his nose, leaving each boy trembling in fear. “W-we’ve got it from here..” One nodded in defeat.

Baji grabbed your shoulders, you rushed you to your feet. “Don’t worry about this, ‘going to the nurse.” He had an aura of order around him while helping you down the remaining stairs. “It’s okay, you don’t have to walk me..” you mumbled, not even sure it was worth going to the nurse for anyway. All you did was fall.

“You’ve got a few knots, and a lot of bruising. You should really be put on ice.” Baji looked you over as the two of you walked. “It had to of hurt. Seriously, those guys should have been looking where they were going. Don’t worry about it though, I’ll make sure they properly apologize again later.”

You chuckled humorlessly, and waved him off, eyes still glued downcast. “It’s not that big of a deal. It was an accident.”

“Accident or not, they’re gonna pay.” He muttered. “Sorry to trouble you, you’d probably have been better off if I just took the boxes all myself.”

“No worries, I wanted to help.”

Once you reached the nurse, Baji stopped you before going in. “You’re L/n, right?”

“Y-yeah, Y/n L/n… I sit in the front, a few rows to the right of where you sit.”

“Right. Sorry bout that again, I’ll let the teacher know you’ll be back a little later than lunch, so don’t sweat hurrying back. Just take your time.”

When was the first the anyone was this considerate of your wellbeing? Sure, it was a common courtesy, but it was still out of the norm. He gave a final look over of you, he seemed to narrow his brows further. “Well … I’m off. Seriously, take it easy.” He waved, and stepped back, waiting for you to enter.

“Right… thank you, Baji.” You have a slight bow before escaping into the nurses office.

⋆｡ﾟ｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You were so tired. Maybe it would be best to let it go. Just accept you weren’t able to make friends. Finally accept something was actually wrong with you, and just stop trying.

Murmurs about your little fall were the talk of the class after lunch. Apparently the guys who bumped into you were actually pretty popular. Spreading misinformation about what happened, and making you out to be the bad guy. Seriously, what did you ever do to them? It wasn’t fair.

Overwhelmed, the end of the day came, and it was becoming impossible to tune out all 20 different conversations happening simultaneously as students filed out of the classroom. You bit your tongue and waited. The room would become empty before too long.

One by one, everyone left. And you were finally left alone. Finally. The weight of the day finally began to settle in the newfound quietness.

You quietly laid your head down on your desk, and held your arm sleeves tightly. Just breath. Why is it no matter what, you always make things worse? It was so suffocating, you didn’t even realize how harsh your breathing had become. Tears burned your eyes, and suddenly you couldn’t hold it back anymore. Openly sobbing into your sleeves, you huddled in upon yourself closer.

This sucked! What the hell! You didn’t do anything wrong! So why…

It didn’t do any good to think about it further than that. All thinking did was make it worse. Stop thinking. Just pretend like it didn’t happen. Pretend like you don’t hear anyone when they talk behind your back anymore. Pretend like your knees don’t hurt, like your feelings weren’t crushed. No one cared anyway. Suck it up.

Do better. Be better. Stop crying. Stop—

“Hey…” you heard a soft voice call out beside you. Your breath hitched. Was the classroom not empty? Did you seriously start crying in front of someone like that? This had to be the worst day.

You felt something cold touch your shoulder, and what you can only assume to be a juice box plopped down on your desk.

You didn’t lift your head. Soon to follow, the slight screech in a chair pulled out beside you, and the shifting of clothes. “Leave me alone…” you said softly; hoarsely.

“I thought about it… but it kinda seems like you could use a friend.” Wait, you recognized that voice. Ever so slightly, you turned your head to the side, and peeked past your hair to see Baji sitting slouched and wide legged beside you.

Still, you couldn’t let him see you like this. Rubbing your eyes against the material of your sleeve, you mumbled again. “It’s okay. You really don’t have to do all that.”

He was quiet. You were hopeful that he wouldn’t push the pity treatment further. The juice box was enough. It was thoughtful, and sweet. He was trying. But it was unnecessary. You’d forget about today soon enough.

Baji wasn’t sure what he should do. Maybe he should just leave you alone. He wasn’t really that good at comforting people, and you really didn’t seem in the mood to talk.

He’d never talked to you before today anyway.

Yet he couldn’t find it in himself to do it.

Anytime your name was brought to mention, it was always some bullshit gossip he never cared to listen to. You kept a low profile and seemed to always have a cheery aura about you. Those rumors were just that, rumors. It kind of reminded himself of when people would mumble about him behind his back when he first got held back. Sure, everything that everyone said about him was true, about being a delinquent, or being dumb. But it didn’t seem that way with you.

“People are assholes and just say shit to make you feel bad about yourself. I’m friends with a bunch of weirdos— some real freaks, so I can confidently say you aren’t as weird as people make you out to be.”

Well, it was a nice thought, if anything else. You giggled, sniffling a last few times before turning away from Baji, and wiping your face clean. You faced forward, a guilty smile decorating your features.

Baji Keisuke wasn’t ever really one to notice a person’s appearance, not for girls anyway. Yet he couldn’t help but admire you. Maybe it was the puffiness of your eyes and lashes, all clumped up together in wet mattes. Or maybe it was the gentle smile of giving up that twisted his heart into feeling like he should help you. To get closer to you.

“H-here.” Baji stuttered, and held out his glasses to you. “I don’t actually need them, they’re just for show. You were trying to hide you were crying, right?”

You blinked suspiciously at him, who was a little red faced and shifting of his own gaze. Was he trying to be considerate? Either way, it made you laugh. “Why do you wear them if you don’t need them?” You took the bait, and reached out for the plastic glasses.

“Well, I’ve been told I can look, intimidating, kinda. Like I’m always glarin’ or something. S-so, I guess that’s why?” He couldn’t exactly tell you he didn’t want to be recognized for being Tokyo Manji Gang’s first division captain.

“That so?” You played along, putting the glasses on in playful banter. “Huh, you’re right. They’re fake.” You smiled, and looked back over at Baji. Immediately, Baji broke out into a fit of laughter.

“Bwaaahaha! What the hell! You look so dorky!” He toppled onto himself, holding his side. You immediately followed his fit of laughter, kicking the chair below him. “I look dorky? Speak for yourself poindexter! You’re the one who looks goofy on the daily!”

Normally, those comments would cause Baji to roll his eyes, but with how lighthearted the air was, it only managed to make him laugh harder.

It felt good, laughing so hard with someone. A stranger even. “Alright, come on’, I’ll treat you to some ramen. You had to skip out on eating lunch since I asked you to help me right? You gatta be starving.” Baji offered, hoisting himself up and out of his chair, pushing it in.

“Well…” you thought about it. You’d hate to put him out and cause anymore unnecessary trouble. Yet, for once, you felt like you understood the social cues going on around you. Being able to relax, smile and laugh with someone, and they offer to take you out for food? Would it really be a bad thing to accept?

“Sure…”

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers comfort #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revengers baji #baji #baji keisuke #keisuke baji #baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #tokrev baji

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janeyseymour · 3 months

Note

personal and professional 1-3 was soooooo good it gave me an idea!

a mel x work crush reader story in which cute shy fem reader has a sleeper build. usually wearing regular lose fit clothing until one day they have to wear a fancy skirt and heels bringing attention to readers muscular legs. abbott crew starts asking reader questions about her workout routine leading a jealous melissa to make a snarky comment about reader skipping arm day to which reader says something like don’t let the outfit fool you i could bench you right now heels and all. melissa keeps pushing readers buttons until reader grabs melissa and starts overhead pressing with absolutely no issue to prove their point leaving melissa stunned. idk maybe it ends with melissa asking reader on a date that day after school?

Press You (Up Against a Wall)

WC: 3.3k

You were hired as the long term substitute gym teacher at Willard R. Abbott Elementary School in January, but when the teacher who was out on maternity leave decided to leave the position permanently- that she can’t even believe she stayed there throughout her pregnancy in the first place- you were brought on for the full-time position. So, now you’re Abbott’s official gym teacher, and you couldn’t be more thrilled.

Really, any physical education teacher position is a score in your mind because showing up to school in sweatpants or joggers everyday is any teacher’s dream come true. But Abbott is so nice because you can pretty much do whatever you want with the kids- including dodgeball, which is banned at most schools.

Under all of your gym clothes, you have a nice body- you’ll be the first one to admit that. Working out six days a week along with having a well balanced diet doesn’t go to waste. None of the teachers, or Ava for that matter, know that you’re a bit of a gym rat- okay, a really big gym rat. Sure, they know you’re athletic and that you’re slim, but they haven’t seen your legs- probably the best part about your body. You’re thankful for that because up until now, you’ve evaded the principal’s flirtatious personality and comments.

The only person who knows how in shape you are is Mr. Johnson because you help him move things or fix things when necessary. He’s immensely grateful and has promised to keep your hidden figure a secret- he knows how you don’t want to be hit on like Gregory is.

But now, you’re being forced to go to PECSA, and you really don’t know why you have to go, but the school is paying for your hotel room, and you don’t have to attend any of the seminars based on curriculum because you don’t teach any of the core subjects (you had thoughts on that title… physical education was one of the most important for those kids to be participating in if they wanted to grow to be strong and healthy adults).

So while everyone else is supposed to be at their seminars, you sleep in before heading down to the gym to get your daily workout in.

After you’re finished, you head back up to your hotel room and shower before changing into an old band t-shirt, a light sweatshirt, and a pair of joggers. Deciding that you have enough time to explore and just soak everything in, you exit your hotel room.

As you go to back away from your door, so is Melissa Schemmenti- donned in a bathing suit as opposed to the clothes that she should be clad in to attend different seminars.

“Hey, Schemmenti,” you look her up and down.

“Y/N,” Melissa looks you up and down too. “Don’t tell anyone, but Barb ’n’ I haven’t gone to a single one of those dumb jawns. All for the newbies.”

You mime zipping your lips before letting out a chuckle. “You’ll be at the big party though, right?”

“Hell yeah I will be. I have a math-o-rita chugging champion title to maintain,” she smirks.

“Good. I don’t think I could survive the Abbott crew without you to keep me company,” you blush as you tell her that. “Not that I don’t like the others, but… you know what I mean.”

“I gotchu,” she smiles. “Just stick with me and Barb, and you’ll be fine.”

You nod. “You mind if I join you now?”

“If you can get changed in the next few-”

“Nah, I don’t wanna swim, I just wanna relax in the presence of others,” you lie a little. You really just want to be in her presence.

You and her meet the kindergarten teacher down by the pool, and Barb’s eyes widen just slightly when she sees that Melissa brought you.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she still greets you kindly. “Decided to ditch the seminars?”

“I don’t have to go to most of them,” you laugh softly as you tuck a hair behind your ear. “Just the ones that have to do with PBIS and all of that. Other than that, I’ve just been kind of wandering. Saw Melissa, and I tagged along.”

“And she didn’t tell you to beat it?” Barbara raises a brow.

Melissa shrugs. “She looked like a lost puppy dog, so I took her under my wing.”

Little do you or Barbara know, she has had quite the thing for you since you first walked into the building and greeted her while she was bringing her kids down to special. And then when you spoke to her so shyly, but then she could hear you command the gymnasium to gain control of her class- it really struck a chord with her, and she was taken with you. She would never tell you that, and actually was a bit tougher on you than she was with others, but you have her figured out. She seems to be a bit tougher on those she likes rather than just ignore the ones who she tolerates or just genuinely doesn’t enjoy the presence of.

“I can go if-”

“You’re with us now. Don’t be an idiot,” Melissa rolls her eyes.

You bite your bottom lip nervously. “Okay, okay.”

You relax in the lounge chair next to her, and you have to admit it’s a little warmer than you were anticipating it being in here (foolishly… it’s an indoor pool area, what we’re you expecting?). So you shrug off your jacket, tie your hair up, and hike your sweatpants up to your knees.

If Barbara and Melissa notice your calves, they don’t say anything.

You end up falling asleep with your arms protectively wrapped around yourself, and you don’t wake until you feel someone gently shaking you.

“Hun, it’s time to get up.” You jolt awake, clearly terrified as your eyes go wide and your breathing gets deeper for a second. But then you look up, and there’s… well, there’s Melissa’s cleavage in your face, and then a bit further up are her emerald eyes. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s ‘kay,” you mumble as you yawn and stretch a bit. “Sorry I fell asleep on youse.”

“Aye, no problem at all,” she smiles down at you. “Just didn’t wanna leave you down here to think Barb and I abandoned ship, but we’re gonna start getting ready for the party.”

“I guess I should too,” you sigh softly as you stand.

You and the redhead head up to your rooms and start to get ready.

It doesn’t take you long to get ready. You really just throw on the dress you brought- one that accentuates your legs- before applying a light amount of makeup. You run your fingers through your hair as you glance in the mirror. You look good. Deciding that you would rather not kill your feet just yet though, you wait to put on your heels.

A bit later, you hear a knock on your door as you’re laying in bed and scrolling through Instagram. You stand and make your way to the door before looking out the peephole. It’s Melissa, and she looks… stunning. Her hair is in big curls, and she has a beautiful green dress on that only makes her eyes pop even more.

“Hey,” you breathe out softly. “You look… wow.”

She gives you a once over. “I could say the same things about you.”

Your cheeks turn red at her compliment and her lingering eyes on your body.

“You ready? I want a math-o-rita in my hand, and the lines will get ridiculous later on,” she tells you. “And this way we can save a table for our group.”

“Y-yeah,” you say softly as you continue to stare at her. “Just let me put on my shoes.”

She nods as she leans against the doorframe and watches. Then, you give her a nod, make sure you have your lipgloss and keycard, and head out.

When you get down there, she immediately heads towards the bar and quickly returns with two drinks in hand. She hands one to you, and the two of you clink your glasses together. You take a nice swig of it in hopes of relaxing. By the time the rest of your group joins you, both of you are on your second drink.

“You two are here early,” Barbara notes as she looks between the two of you. “Are we interrupting something?”

Melissa rolls her eyes. “We got here a little early to get a table.”

“You both look so nice!” Janine grins from next to her work mother.

You smile at her politely. “You as well.”

“I never really took you for a gym rat, although I suppose I should’ve,” Gregory chuckles. “Damn.”

“Seriously,” Jacob eyes you. “In the most gay way possible, I am looking respectfully.”

“What’s your workout routine?” Gregory asks you.

Happy to talk about anything other than work, you begin to list off the various leg exercises you do. Almost everyone is hanging onto your every word. At least that’s what it looks like. They’re all looking at you like you’re a star- all except the one you want to be looking at you: Melissa. She instead picking at her nails and sipping at her drink. The truth of it is, she is also listening to every word, and she’s beginning to get jealous of the way that everyone is ogling you and your legs. She doesn’t want that to show.

When you’re finished, she bites back a laugh. “Guess we skip arm days?”

“Don’t let the outfit fool you,” you chuckle. “My arms may look small, but they’re defined.”

“Compared to your legs,” she rolls her eyes.

“I could bench you,” you laugh back. “Heels and all.”

“Now that is something that I would love to see,” Barbara chuckles. She ignores the death glare your redheaded coworker sends her way.

“You will not,” Melissa states. “Not in this dress.”

“Maybe I’ll just do some bicep curls with you in my arms then,” you challenge her.

“I doubt you could,” she bites out. “Not with those chicken arms.”

You roll your eyes. “One of these days, you’ll see.”

“Sure I will.”

She continues to push your buttons throughout the night, and with the alcohol that you’ve taken in, she teases you.

“Couldn’t press me now, could you?”

“I could press you up against a wall,” you flirt shamelessly, liquid courage acting as your friend.

Her cheeks turn a violent shade of pink, and you grin.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” you smirk. “I meant that I could squat against the wall and lift you up over my head.”

“That is not what you meant, and you know it,” she scolds you.

You shrug your shoulders innocently. “You’ll never know what I meant, now will you?”

After another round of drinks, she’s still teasing you. You finally decide that you want to put her incessant comments to and end. So, you sweep her off of her feet, heels and all. You make sure that her dress is appropriate before doing a few bicep curls with her in your arms.

She’s stunned, to say the least.

And then, with one little jerk, she’s up over your head. You bring her back down to your arms and hold her there.

“You ready to shut up yet?” you tease her, looking down at her lips.

Her eyes are wide and clearly impressed. She can’t even find the words right now.

“You ready?” you ask again.

She just nods her head, and you set her back down on her feet. You keep an arm around her until she’s found her footing again.

“That was really hot,” Jacob states. You jump slightly, not realizing he was there. “In the least creepy way possible. I had no idea you were that strong.”

“Most people don’t,” you chuckle as you down the rest of your drink. You wink at Melissa as you make your way over to the bar. “I got the next round. Another math-o-rita?”

She nods again as she makes her way back to your table. Barbara is sitting there with a smirk. “She put on quite the show.”

The redhead’s eyes linger on you as you stand at the bar and try to get the attention of the bartender. “Yeah,” she hums noncommittally.

“Girl, when are you just going to ask her out?” the kindergarten teacher asks.

That pulls Melissa out of her trance. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve seen the way you stare at her and the pep in your step when your kids have gym,” Barbara snorts. “Even in just her joggers and Abbott sweatshirt. You like her.”

“I mean, yeah… she’s a nice woman,” the second grade teacher tries to brush off her friend’s assumption.

“No, you like her.”

“So what if I do?” Melissa asks as she folds her arms over her chest. “There ain’t no way she would ever like me back.”

“She’s been practically drooling over you since she saw you in your swimsuit earlier today, and she’s currently buying you a drink,” Barbara laughs.

“We’ve bought each other drinks before.”

“But I don’t drool over you in a bathing suit, and I know you don’t drool over me,” the kindergarten teacher snorts. “Just ask her out.”

“Maybe when I’m sober,” Melissa rolls her eyes.

You start to make your way back over, and the redhead can’t help the way that she watches your hips sway.

“You’re drooling,” Barbara nudges her friend.

“Shut up,” Melissa laughs. She takes the drink that you offer her with a grin. The two of you raise your glasses in a toast before you link arms and chug.

You wipe the liquid that had made its way around your mouth with a chuckle. “Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll still be able to lift ya, no problem.”

You wrap your arm around her waist and squeeze her hip gently, the liquid courage once again taking over.

She blushes, but she quickly gets swept away by Derek, challenging her to yet another math-o-rita chugging challenge.

That leaves you and Barbara sitting at the table together.

“So,” the kindergarten teacher nudges you. “When are you gonna make a move on that redhead you were curling earlier?”

You raise a brow. “What do you mean?”

“When are you gonna ask her out? I heard you tell her you could press her up against a wall, and you and I both know you didn’t mean that in an innocent way,” she chuckles.

You shrug. “Maybe when I’m positive she likes me. I ain’t about to make a fool out of myself and then have to work with her.”

“I think she made it pretty clear she likes you with the way she’s been practically undressing you with her eyes all night,” the kindergarten teacher tells you.

You laugh. “No she hasn’t.” When she raises a brow and hits you with the trademarked Barbara Howard look, you sigh. “Okay, maybe when we’re both sober… if I can ever work up the nerve.”

“Just give it some thought, sweetheart,” Barb tells you. “Melissa… she’s a tough cookie, but she’s got the biggest heart I know of, and as much as she tries not to, she wears it on her sleeve.”

You nod thoughtfully before smiling. “You think she’d say yes to a date with me?”

“No question,” your colleague tells you.

You think on it for a second, and you go to speak again- to tell Barbara that you might just ask her tonight- when you hear Melissa loudly calling your name.

“Hun! I need a cheerleader so I can absolutely kick Derek’s ass again!”

You look over in her direction and raise a brow, questionably.

“Please, babe!”

Oh, you know she’s so drunk. You can’t ask her out on a date, a serious one, when she’s as hammered as she is. You roll your eyes playfully but saunter over.

She slings an arm around your waist before she gets another drink. Without any hesitation, she chugs the entirety of it before Derek can finish even half of his. You’re impressed to say the least. After she slams down the empty glass to prove she’s finished, she kisses your cheek in celebration.

Not that either of you know it, but Barbara has a video of it.

It’s a bit longer before the two of you finally decide to retire to your rooms for the night… you’re both quite a bit intoxicated, and the redhead practically hangs off of you as you help her down the hall.

Of course, when you go to turn to your own room, she grabs your arm. “Come in?”

“Yeah, I can,” you tell her gently. “Just let me change, and I’ll be over.”

She gives you her best puppy dog eyes, but you insist. “Mel, I really don’t want to be in this dress longer than I have to be.”

“But you look… stunning.”

“While I appreciate the compliment, I would like to get comfortable.”

She relents and turns into her own room. When you knock on her door again, she’s still in her dress though, with the sweetest frown on her face.

“I can’t get out of this,” she tells you. “Stupid zipper.”

You enter her room before spinning her around gently. You unzip it with ease.

“Jeez, take me out on a date before you start undressing me,” she quips teasingly.

You see the opportunity in front of you, and you take it. “How about tomorrow at seven?”

“Only if you show up with those legs out again,” she flirts back.

“It’s a date.”

The two of you spend a few hours chatting and having a few more drinks in her room- beers she brought with her to pre-game before your really do head back to your room to get some much needed sleep.

As you pull the blankets around you, you smile to yourself. You know that she isn’t going to remember you asked her out tonight, but you think that you have the courage to do it again sober now.

The next morning comes, and Melissa comes out of her room with her hood up, sunglasses over her eyes, and she’s drinking Pedialyte through a straw as she wheels her luggage out.

You roll your eyes at her fondly. “Hey there,” you greet her, entirely too perky for her liking at this hour and in her state.

“How are you not dying?” she asks.

You smirk. “I didn’t have a chugging challenge with Derek last night.”

“Eh, worth it to keep my title,” she shrugs.

“You better rally for tonight. You have a date.”

“What?” she lowers her sunglasses so you can see the shock in her eyes.

You smirk. “You have a date… with me.”

The smiles that she breaks out into could light up all of Philly alone. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

With that, you leave her to continue to nurse the hangover for the car ride home with Barbara as you race off to check out of the hotel and head home. You have a date to plan.

Melissa waits down in the lobby for Barbara to finish packing up her weekend bags. When the kindergarten teacher comes over, the redhead, although clearly hungover, is deep in her own thoughts.

“What’s got you looking like smoke is about to come out of your head this early in the morning?”

“I have a date with Y/N tonight.”

“About damn time,” Barbara smiles. “Let’s get you home so you can nurse that hangover and be ready for her.”

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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aethon-recs · 10 months

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Tomarrymort Advanced Pack – 12 Longfic Recs

If you’ve made your way through the Tomarrymort Starter Pack and Intermediate Pack reads, here are 12 beautifully written, timeless fics that are Tomarrymort on hard mode for when you’re ready to dive into something that will really challenge your every reading muscle. This selection of fics features some of the most skilled writing I’ve come across in the entire fandom, and I love how these authors tackle incredibly complex subject matter and plotlines and characterization choices with such bold and unflinching perspectives.

Please mind all tags (including CCNTW, explained here) as you may find some themes within some of these fics difficult or challenging to read for a variety of reasons.

This is Part 3 of a 3-part series (see here for Part 1 and Part 2). I hope you get as much enjoyment from reading these additional 3.1 million words of incredible Tomarrymort longfic as I have!

Tomarrymort Advanced Reads

ǟʟʍǟɢɛֆȶ by eldritcher (M, 134k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 6 Premise: If Harry and Dumbledore team up with Voldemort to save the magical world from a catastrophic threat. Why I rec it: Eldritcher delivers one of the most epic love stories of a lifetime — with Harry and Voldemort surviving a trip to the moon and back, and Harry’s love for Voldemort transcending time and space after Voldemort makes the ultimate sacrifice to save the world and, against all odds, return to Harry. The prose is absolutely transcendent — amongst the best I’ve encountered not only in fanfic, but in all of fiction I’ve ever read. I can’t say enough about how much I love Elditcher’s writing style and how beautifully the story unfolds — there’s a very nice lyrical rhythm underlying all the sentence structure and word choice in the fic that flows like nothing else I’ve read before.

Anabiosis by @itsevanffs (E, 32k, WIP)

Setting: Canon Divergence Pre-Book 1 Premise: If Voldemort resurrects early and takes a teaching job at Harry’s primary school. Why I rec it: This is one of the best and most realistic and gutting depictions I’ve ever read of the quiet tragedy of Harry’s pre-Hogwarts years growing up experiencing severe neglect and an absence of love throughout his entire childhood. @itsevanffs did a magnificent job of capturing Harry’s limited POV and all the fluttering hope his still-trusting heart holds when he meets Mr Riddle, the first teacher who’s ever treated him with kindness. My heart ached so much for Harry throughout this fic, and the emotional arc in this story has continued to haunt me for a very long time afterwards.

Eight Days a Week by @vestiges-of-light (E, 802k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 7 Premise: If Voldemort captures Harry shortly after his sixth year, which leads to an unlikely truce and eventual partnership that ends up saving the magical world. Why I rec it: This fic combines a sprawling political epic with an incredibly extensive exploration of kink. The author asks a great question in the tags: "Why is only vanilla sex literary?" — and this fic does a fantastic job of proving that messy, filthy, raw sex scenes don’t have to be made sanitized or palatable for mainstream consumption in order to have just as much of a place in a plot-driven, serious longfic as vanilla sex does. Against the high-stakes backdrop of international political intrigue, there’s a very nice domesticity to Harry and Voldemort’s relationship, and how much they trust each other and can be stripped bare and vulnerable in front of each other is very poignant and touching to read about.

Embryo by @cannibalinc (NR, 28k, WIP)

Setting: Time Travel (1940s) Premise: If mysterious new transfer student Harry appears in Tom’s sixth year in a state of near complete amnesia. Why I rec it: One of the defining character traits of Tom Riddle is that he’s an absolute genius — the most talented academic mind to ever walk through the doors of Hogwarts — and this fic absolutely delivers on that aspect. Told from Tom’s POV, this fic is like reading a complex multidisciplinary text spanning philosophy and physics and mathematics and magical theory, all interconnected by the mystery of how Harry appeared and where he came from and why he is so utterly forgettable to everyone but Tom.

found by @honbug (E, 112k, WIP)

Setting: Non-Magical AU Premise: If Tom grows up in a world with no magic, but has had strange recurring dreams his whole life — dreams of a boy with green eyes and a scar, dreams of a dark graveyard and magical snakes and other mysterious things. Why I rec it: The character work done in this fic is absolutely breathtaking — one of the best character studies of Tom Riddle I’ve ever come across. This is a Tom who grew up without magic, but is no less cold and vicious and psychopathic and teetering on the edge of madness. The story arc follows Tom from his early childhood through his rise as a ruthless leader in an organized crime syndicate not unlike the Death Eaters — all the while that he’s haunted by dreams of Harry, his Harry, even as the dreams start to drive him to the brink of insanity.

how large the teeth by MaidenMotherCrone (E, 257k, complete)

Setting: Voldemort Wins AU Premise: If Harry grows up as an outcast in a world where Grindelwald and Voldemort have already won long before he is born, but he’s still the subject of a prophecy that designates him as their world’s savior. Why I rec it: The worldbuilding is so exquisite and complex in this fic — the author did a spectacular job at completely reimagining the wizarding world from the ground up if the Dark Lord were to win a long time ago and how their extremely inequitable society would subsequently be structured. Harry’s defiance throughout is lovely, and his growing entanglement with Voldemort adds to all the high-stakes and risky moves that he makes throughout the fic. The plotline is very action-packed — a lot of complex plot threads are interwoven throughout the story, with an undercurrent of revolution and discontent simmering under the surface until it explodes in a glorious finale.

In Willing Sacrifice by @hikarimeroperiddle (M, 1,197k, WIP)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 4 Premise: If Harry finds Voldemort in Riddle Manor the summer before his fourth year, and enters into an unlikely alliance with him before returning to school that year. Why I rec it: This fic covers so much ground — at 1.2 million words (so far!), it’s the most detailed rewrite of canon starting from book 4 that I’ve ever come across, weaving in plenty of magical theory and political intrigue as Voldemort takes Harry under his protection initially in a mentor capacity. The relationship between Harry and Voldemort unfolds in such a beautiful way in this fic — with Harry growing to fall in love with Voldemort, despite all of Voldemort’s murderous and violent qualities, without losing an ounce of his humanity or the inherent goodness inside of his heart along the way.

Lover's Spit by @pinktom, @k3uuu (E, 88k, WIP)

Setting: Non-Magical AU Premise: If Harry and Tom grow up in a small town together in northern England, and Tom has harbored an obsession for Harry ever since primary school. Why I rec it: An absolutely stunning coming-of-age story set in modern times. This story is striking in so many different ways. It perfectly captures the voice of fringe internet communities in such an authentic way. It also poignantly captures the social isolation and erosion of privacy from living in a small town where gossip spreads like wildfire, and how the internet amplifies these dynamics. At the core of the story is a really sweet love story between Tom and Harry that I am literally obsessed with — every single one of their interactions is so tender and pure — and it’s such a startling contrast to how Tom’s internet persona is portrayed that makes the sweetness all the more heartfelt.

Mi Aedijekit by @kitastrophea (M, 282k, WIP)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Harry is captured by Voldemort and placed under the Draught of Living Death, only to awaken in the far future where Voldemort has ruled over their world for over a thousand years. Why I rec it: A linguistic and sociological tour de force. When Harry wakes up from his magical coma over a thousand years into the future, the world has been entirely transformed, and the skill and effort that the author undertook in fleshing out a society where there’s been a thousand years of cultural change and evolution in language can’t be understated. One of the most unique and fun aspects of the story is learning the new vocabulary of the future alongside Harry for the first time. I love how the fic examines how even Voldemort gets bored with immortality after a millennia of ruling — and how, even with a thousand years separating them and memories of the earlier times scattered to the wind, Harry and Voldemort are still inextricably drawn together.

Of Kings, Of Pawns, and Of Men by @ambivalens999 (E, 129k, WIP)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 5 Premise: If Voldemort ends up in Harry’s body and Harry ends up in Tom Riddle’s body after a bad encounter with the dementors at the beginning of book 5, and they can’t figure out how to swap back. Why I rec it: This is such an interesting take on the bodyswap trope, which is given a very serious and plotty treatment here. For fear of the safety of his friends, Harry has to go along with returning to his 5th year at Hogwarts in Tom Riddle’s body and being sorted into Slytherin house, while Tom passes himself off as Harry Potter. There’s a mystery behind the depth of Tom’s knowledge and familiarity with Harry, as he knows more about Harry than even Voldemort should. Is it the scar horcrux? Is it Voldemort? Is it something else entirely? The inherent combativeness and magnetism between Harry and Tom keep the tension high as they push each other’s buttons and circle around each other like wolves trying to establish dominance.

Phobia by @katsitting (E, 48k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Voldemort captures Harry and brutally tortures him to the point of breaking. Why I rec it: This fic does not sugarcoat Voldemort’s capacity for cruelty and sadism in any way, and I admire the author’s commitment to depicting the most horrific of scenarios. Having read countless fics with this setup, I’ll be honest, the depiction in this fic is probably the most likely outcome of any Voldemort-captures-Harry scenario. They do not fall in love. It is not a fun time for Harry. There is gore; there is brutal prisoner torture; there is extremely extensive non-con. I found it very raw and unvarnished — not an easy read, but a very memorable and evocative one. And yet, despite the themes of darkness explored in this fic, it ends on a note of hope.

The Foul (part 1) / The Great (part 2) by @meles-merrivale (M, 24k, complete)

Setting: Time Travel Premise: If Harry gets thrown back in time a thousand years into the past, and does whatever it takes to stay alive until he can meet up with Voldemort again. Why I rec it: This is a fantastic depiction of the slow descent into madness following a disastrous time travel accident and what a thousand years of immortality does to one’s sanity. It’s also a great exploration of the time travel paradox and whether anyone has the power to change the past, or if pivotal historical events are, by their very nature, predetermined. By the time Harry encounters Voldemort again, he is a shell of the person he used to be, but gradually, he finds more of his original humanity and spark for life the more his relationship with Voldemort progresses.

#Tomarrymort Advanced Reads #tomarrymort #tomarry #harrymort #aethon recs #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #harrymort recs #hp fic recs #longfic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #tom riddle #voldemort #harry potter

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amphitriteswife · 8 months

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Teacher (and subjects) head cannons!:

(I’m from the netherlands and the school here has a different grading system. Also collage and highschool are one thing. So highschool is 4,5 or 6 years depending on which grade you get on tests and stuff in elementary so please bear with me)

Poseidon:

You would think that he would teach biology but you would be wrong. He would teach Physics or some high level math.

The type to not let anyone in after the bell rings

Doesn’t care if you end up dead in the class you will not go to the bathroom during his lesson

Stands by the door to make sure you put it in those phone pockets thingy

Gives the most homework out of all the teachers

Wears formal clothes, always. Suits, blazer, slacks ect.

You will never catch him on a bad hair day

If he catches you cheating on a test, you can say goodbye to that grade because he will give you a zero.

He does sometimes turn a blind eye if you’re on the brink of not passing and don’t choose his subject. (You do need to be on the brink. So not like a 3 or sum)

Hates electronics so he just wants everyone to use a paper and the book. No laptops.

Only talkes to some teachers like Hades and Thor

Students think he’s either the worst or just eye candy

Has won the the contest of best man titties by students

People actually ended up crying in his class and he didn’t give a damn

Sends people out 2 minutes before the time and doesn’t care if they beg.

If you have him as a substitute you can start praying because you’ll miss your regular teacher

Types with one finger if he’s on his phone (rare sight)

Checks homework. As in not just looking but actually reading your calculations.

He sometimes even grades your homework or puts them for bonuses

He sometimes reads if it’s work time and he finishes his lecture

Got drunk one time during school dance and started breakdancing. Hades was supportive and filmed it.

Hades

Teaches history

Is well with his colleagues and is well liked by students

He’s not strict with phones but please don’t use them in his class

You sometimes do work. He mostly explains and writes notes on the white board for you to write down

Is very, very passionate about certain topics. His favorites would be the world wars and the greek/ roman empire.

Is that type of teacher that you could tell anything. School, home, hobbies. He won’t mind and he’s equally interested.

Has a mentor class every year and he helps them a lot.

His class is very popular and lots of people choose his subject, so popular that people who don’t take it sometimes ask if they can stay and also follow it for fun

Almost never gives homework

He makes planners, notes, power points. Anything that may help his students.

He even lets the class watch films so that they understand it better, he usually choses for oversimplified if he needs to explain the word wars

You can eat in his class as long as you keep it clean and don’t throw stuff

Smells like rituals. Flowers. Very addictive and good. Sniff

Is present at the school dance and school parties. He helps with carrying and making sure the students don’t do stupid stuff

He doesn’t even need to discuss about his students’ grades because all his students do good in his class

Is rated to have the biggest dick by the students.

Also wears formal clothes. So like a suit, but if he crosses his legs you can see that he wears funky socks. Like a bright purple with colorful cupcakes on it or a bright blue with yellow ducks on it.

Gives extra lessons if you don’t understand.

You know how when someone asks teachers about their life? If you do that he gets so happy and explains a lot

Shows pictures of Melinoe and Zagreus from when they were babies.

He brought a 4 year old melinoe with him one time and the class played with her. If she was not playing with the students she was probably in her father’s lap.

He also shows pictures of Persephone. Every time he talks about her you can hear the love in his voice. (I’m Persephone reincarnated)

Hermes

Teaches music ofcourse

You would think that music was easy but it really isn’t. You need to able to read music notes. You get 2 tests, playing and theory.

Helps well if you need assistance with your instruments

Gives surprise tests to see if you actually did the homework

He loves and i mean looooveeees gossip

He doesn’t say much but listens when a student says something about another teacher

Handles the school musical

You actually need to put effort if you want to pass

Doesn’t take away your phone if he sees you with it. Just stares from behind on it until you notice.

doesn’t sent people out of the class, just gives them extra homework

He never, ever stops smiling. The class is being too loud? He’ll sit in his chair and simply drink his tea while glaring with a smile.

Some students find him scary because of how polite he is, because they can feel that underlying anger.

Knows how to make a student’s life miserable if they make his class unbearable.

You threw paper at him and made the class disruptive? Boom 4 chapters done by the next lesson and all the texts should be 4 times written. In cursive

He is usually seen with the principal (Zeus)

Buddha

Geography teacher

Why? Because he often travels for different kind of reasons.

Eating is allowed, as well as chewing gun

Is great with the students and most people just choose his subject because he’s chill

Doesn’t prepare lessons. He just talks and the students get it

If he does have a powerpoint he promotes his insta, tiktok and his snap

Loves to know about different cultures

Had a diss battle in his class once and almost got into trouble

Called someone emo

If you eat in his class prepare to share.

Asks people if they can bring him coffee from the teachers’ room

You cannot tell me that dawg didn’t pull up in Jordans

Is also present at the school dance and actually bribes the dg for some songs

Doesn’t really care if you skip his class. He either doesn’t care or doesn’t notice.

He too has a mentor class. He has private talks and doesn’t mind if you tell him his problems and genuinely tries to help

Doesn’t give homework unless it’s necessary.

Beelzebub

Creepy Science teacher

Got called emo by Buddha

Doesn’t hesitate to threaten students

He never cares if you don’t show up, but he will rat you out because funny

Has been detected to smile when he does weird stuff. Like cutting things open

Is always in his lab and he’s the only one who can enter with a key

Someone made a sticker of his face and the whole school used it, again he doesn’t care

Had like those weird pots with stuff in it

Doesn’t allow anyone to touch them. He does demonstrate stuff if you ask nicely

Let’s you go early but it’s not in a nice way. He’ll only do it because he doesn’t want to teach anymore for the day

Doesn’t even go to lunch, he just remains in his lab

He only goes to halloween parties

Cyberbullies people. Teachers and students included

Runs the anti *insert school* accounts

Will not care if the school burns down. He hates everyone and everything. Except Hades, because he’s cool

Doesn’t care if you eat or drink. (He may or may not have put something in it for his experiments)

‘Students are like little monsters’ is his motto. He’ll treat them like it too

If you fail his tests he’ll sometimes give you one to retake

Thank ya’ll for reading :p

I’m gonna make a part 2. I think. Maybe some with the human fighters

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loving-barnes · 3 months

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LOGAN HOWLETT - BONDING MOMENT

A/N: Here I am, once again, with another chapter. Chapter 8, my friends, is here and it is still sweet. I will not spoil anything, just read and enjoy.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: explicit thoughts?

Summary: The students get to know Y/N a little more.

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story is suitable for mature audience.

Words: 3700+

Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine. This is set in AU.

A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST | Chapter Seven

LOGAN HOWLETT - BONDING MOMENT

Nothing interesting had happened since that night at the bar. Logan helped Y/N get back to the school and to her room. He laughed at her silliness, which caught him by surprise. Logan wasn’t the guy to laugh around. He was usually stoic and grumpy. But there were some lingering touches here and there. And yet, their bodies were like two opposite magnetic poles, pushing away. The moment she closed the door, he sighed - relieved he didn’t do anything stupid but also sad that the night was officially over.

The days went by. Logan and Bobby joined the Professor in Washington for another conference. The President wanted to meet Charles during a banquet. They were gone for a few days. Jean and Scott were still away with Remy and Hank. The school got quieter when some students went home for the weekend. There were only some kids that had a supportive system back home. Many of them were alone in this cruel world.

On Sunday, the day before Y/N became a teacher, she and JJ were sitting outside on a bench near the pond. She took him out to spend some time with him. He snuggled closer to her side. The weather got colder. Heavy clouds appeared in the sky. Halloween was approaching, and the students were excited about the celebration.

“It’s going to be so much fun,” Jerome said with a wide smile. “I’ve heard you have to make your own mask. It’s a contest, you know?” he was ecstatic. “Everyone does it. The best masks will get some rewards. It’s mostly candy. That counts as a prize.”

“Wow,” Y/N said with a chuckle. She was glad that the boy was happy at the school. “Have you been thinking about what you want to become? Or would you like some suggestions?”

He shook his head. “No, I think I know what I want to be. I’m not telling you. It will be a surprise.”

“A surprise, you say? Alright, don’t tell me anything. I want to see what you will make,” she patted his head. “Otherwise, are you happy here? Do you have everything? Do you need anything?”

He thought about it for a second. “I have everything. They gave me clothes and school supplies. Jean told me to ask for anything. But I can always come to you, right?”

“You can always come to me, Storm, Kitty, or Logan,” she said. “You can even see the Professor and talk to him. He’s the one who created this school. He’s a good man.”

JJ nodded. “Listen,” he turned his head to look at her face. “A few nights ago, I think I heard you giggle in the hallways in the middle of the night.”

Y/N blinked, and she bit the inside of her lip. “Yeah,” she nodded and cleared her throat. “I went out with some of the teachers. We had a lot of fun that night.” It was half true. She omitted the part where she got drunk.

He poked Y/N into her shoulder. “I’m eleven, I’m not stupid,” he said. “You were with Professor Logan. I heard you talk. Well, you laughed more than you talked.” That was true. Logan walked her back to her room. They talked, she giggled, and then the night was over. “By the way, he’s awesome.”

“Yeah,” she smiled, nodding. “Does Logan teach you something?”

“We have one history lesson a week with him. I like the subject a lot. History is fascinating. Plus, he knows so much about the First and Second World Wars. He gives us so much information and details. As if he was there. He’s strict, and we cannot misbehave, but I enjoy the lesson.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said with a smile. A shiver ran down her spine. The wind got colder. “Let’s head inside and have a cup of tea. I think it’s going to rain. Or Storm is having a bad day, and she changed the weather to fit her mood.”

JJ laughed. He stood up first, grabbed Y/N’s hand and helped her up on feet. He held her by the forearm as they walked inside the school. When she scanned his face again, she noticed the bruises were healed and almost invincible. He looked healthier. It made her heart warm.

As they walked down the hallway, Y/N heard a whimpering sound. It was soft, girl-like. She frowned. Instead of going to the kitchen, she followed the sound. The boy was confused. He opened his mouth to ask where she was going, until he heard it too.

Y/N walked to the lounge room, where she found a young girl sitting on the window still, silently crying. She was JJ’s age. She had curly hair and glasses on her nose. Her skin was light brown.

Carefully, Y/N approached her. She didn’t want to scare her. “Hi,” she used a gentle voice. “Are you alright?” The girl's puffy brown eyes looked up. She shook her head and continued to cry. “Oh, come here, sweet angel,” she said. Her arms spread, and she waited for the girl to accept her hug.

Surprisingly, the girl was immediately hidden in her arms, weeping into Y/N’s leather jacket. Y/N stroked her curly hair lovingly, letting her take her time. JJ took a seat on the couch and silently watched.

“You can talk to me if you want?” Y/N said after another minute. “Did something happen? Has anyone been mean to you?”

The girl's tiny fingers brushed away the hot tears. “My parents haven’t visited me for three months now,” she confessed. That broke Y/N’s heart. “They brought me here, and I never saw them again.” Her voice was low, sad. “They hate me for what I am.”

That statement broke Y/N’s heart. She understood the girl’s pain. Her loved ones gave up on her because she was a mutant. “What’s your name?”

“Nova,” she said. Her arms were tightly wrapped around Y/N’s torso, holding her close.

“Nice to meet you, Nova,” Y/N said with a smile. She rested her head on top of the girl’s. “Tell me, what is your mutation?”

“I, uh,” she hesitated. “I can scream very loudly,” she said. “It can damage your hearing.”

Y/N tilted her head to the side, thinking. “Sonic screaming,” she said out loud. “That is an interesting mutation, Nova. You have powerful vocal cords, and I’ve never met a mutant with this ability.” It wasn’t a lie.

Nova lifted her head and finally looked at Y/N. “You think so?”

“Yes,” she said with a brighter smile than before. “Every mutation is unique, and so is yours. With learning and more information, you will master your ability and know how to properly use it. All you need is time, patience and practice.”

Y/N’s goal was to shift the girl’s attention to something else. It was evident that Nova was agonising over her parents’ neglect. That’s why Y/N wanted to gain her trust, and maybe she’d feel more comfortable around her.

“What is your mutation?” she asked.

“I can create protective forcefields,” Y/N explained. “I am still trying to learn more about my mutation. I’ve heard the term Flyrokinesis, but some call it Flyrogenesis.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Yes,” Y/N nodded. “Flyrokinesis means you can only control force fields. When you can create them, it’s called Flyrogenesis. I can do both.”

“That’s so cool,” Nova sighed. “You can do so much good with your mutation. I only hurt people,” she said. Nova pushed away from Y/N but remained sitting by her side.

Y/N chuckled a little. “Well, it’s not as it seems. I hurt with my ability, too. It was unintentional, but it happened. That is why we need to practise and learn about our mutations. So we won’t hurt people again. We can use our abilities to do good.”

“My mutation is elasticity,” JJ joined the conversation. He picked the right time. Nova’s eyes turned to him. “The people that fostered me thought it was disgusting,” he said. “Now I think my mutation is unique.”

Y/N’s eyes moved to the boy. This was new information. He had never said anything about his parents before. Now she knew why. He didn’t have parents. He was in foster care. Even there, he wasn’t loved. Y/N wanted to run to him and hide him in a tight, loving hug.

“My parents have sent me here and never came to see me or take me home for the weekend,” said Nova. “I deafened my father in one ear,” she confessed. “He never looked me in the eyes again.” And she started to cry again.

“Nova?” another soft voice said from the entrance to the room. “Are you okay?”

Y/N found three other girls standing at the door, watching them. The oldest girl could be thirteen. All three were different. One of them had cat-like irises. The mutation must have caused it.

“Yeah, I’m just talking to…” she turned to Y/N, not knowing her name.

“My name is Y/N. This is JJ,” she pointed at the only boy in the living room. “Would you like to join us?” she showed at the empty couch.

The girls walked inside and sat together. They introduced themselves, too. Jamie, Olivia and Kyra were friends with Nova. They all shared a room on the second level. At least these girls were the support Nova needed.

Y/N and Nova moved to sit next to JJ. “You are the new professor?” Olivia asked Y/N.

“Oh,” it caught her by surprise. Did the Professor announce it already? “Yes. I’ll be teaching English and Literature starting tomorrow. I got a few classes a week.”

“Really?” JJ’s eyes brightened. “That is so awesome!”

Y/N nudged his shoulder. “Thanks, buddy. I’ll be teaching you too, you know? We’ll have literature together on Tuesday and English on Thursday.”

“You haven’t been here long, have you?” Olivia asked. Her long blond hair was braided from the top of her head. She had colourful bracelets on her wrists. “I’ve been here for a year and noticed you a couple of times these past few weeks.”

Two teenage boys walked into the lounge room. They stopped in their tracks when they found the place occupied. “Sorry,” one of them said. “We thought we’d be alone here at this hour.” Before he could finish it, another two boys walked in.

Y/N raised a brow. Already ten people in the room. “What time is it?” she asked no one in particular. It took another five minutes, and another six children entered the room.

“You’re the new teach’,” one of the older boys pointed a finger at her. “Cool,” he smirked.

“I guess the word is spreading faster than you know,” Y/N mumbled under her nose.

“No, she’s the one who saved Jerome,” a girl said as she sat in an armchair. She was at least fifteen years old.

“I guess you have a reputation, Y/N,” JJ laughed when the kids around them started to talk about Y/N as if she was not there.

The woman raised her hands into the air to stop the debate. “If you want to know more, you need to ask the source - that’s me. Please, stop discussing me as if I was not here, okay?” One after one, they nodded their head. “Great. Let’s start again. My name is Y/N. Do you have any questions?”

“What is your mutation?”

“Is it true you will be our new teacher?”

“Did you throw Professor Summers out of the window a few days ago?”

That last question made her laugh. Obviously, they knew something happened. This was the perfect opportunity to talk to the students and know them better. She lived there for some time now. It would be nice to be part of their lives, be there for them. As she kept looking at it, she realised all these children stayed at school for the weekend. Some of the faces were familiar to her. They never left the school the whole time she lived there.

They all had one thing in common - their families gave up on them the moment they discovered how different their children were.

A frown appeared on her face. “Do you ever go home?” she asked gently. She wanted to know how many of them still had their parents.

They all shook their heads. “No,” said one of the oldest boys present. “Some of us have families on the other side of the states. Most of us are here all the time. They gave up on us.”

“I’m so sorry,” Y/N sighed. “I know how it feels to be pushed away from your family. Mine got rid of me, too.”

“Sure,” one of the girls scoffed.

Y/N’s eyes found hers. “They locked me in an insane asylum because I… I killed my own little sister with my mutation,” she admitted out loud. “It was the first time I used the ability. Until that moment, I didn’t know I was a mutant. My mutation is forcefield manipulation. Even though it is a protective ability, I managed to kill my sister with it.”

It was hard to admit it in front of a group of children. Y/N concluded it was better to tell the truth than to lie. What if Scott would open his big dumb mouth, and the kids would fear her? No more lying.

“My parents put me into an insane asylum because of it, and they never came for me. Well, I believe they’d rather see me dead. I escaped the asylum and joined a group of terrible people. My decisions were not the best. I’m not proud of that part of my life.”

“Y/N was locked with me in a lab where they experimented on us,” JJ chimed in. The kids turned their gazes at him. He sounded like a grown man. “She was already there when they brought me in. I helped her escape. Later, Profesor Logan and her came for me and saved my life.”

The silence that surrounded everyone was heavy. Some kids lowered their eyes to the ground, others closed them. They didn’t know what to say or if to say anything at all. The topic was heavy. Some could relate, and others were lucky to not experience anything tragic.

“I get how you all feel,” Y/N said. “I know what it is like when the people you love get rid of you like you’re an old, used toy. I understand you feel betrayal and pain, even anger.” Her hand found Nova’s hand, and she squeezed it reassuringly. “But look where you are now. You all ended up in a school for mutants, where you’ve been given a second chance for a better life. This place is your home. People here care and want the best for you. I dare to say that this is your new family.”

More silence followed. “I know I’m still a stranger to you, and you don’t trust me. That’s okay. Teachers like Storm, Jean or Kitty will be there for you. Please, just know you can talk to me, too. I want to help in any way that I can and know.”

Once Y/N finished talking, Nova wrapped her arms around Y/N’s waist and hugged her tightly. When JJ saw it, he did the same from the other side. The woman wrapped both arms around each child and smiled. The love she felt was immense. Before she knew it, more children approached her. They all huddled together in a big, warm hug. It was a beautiful gesture.

Storm walked around the school, checking on the students. She stepped into the lounge room. Her eyes landed on the scene before her. She had to smile. Storm was lucky enough to witness the group hug.

“What’s going on?” she asked softly.

Slowly, the children moved from the huddle. They went back to their sitting spots again. JJ kept his arms around Y/N while Nova grabbed Y/N’s hand and held it tightly.

“Just bonding,” Y/N said with a smile.

Storm’s lips reflected the smile. “That’s nice. I’m glad you are finding a way to their hearts.”

Later that day, The Professor returned with Logan and Bobby from the banquet. They were back after a few days away, and both men couldn’t be happier about their return. Bobby missed Kitty. They’d been texting here and there throughout the time. Logan didn’t have the guts to call or text Y/N. He rarely used his phone. Also, he thought it would be weird. Charles could feel Logan’s faint anxiety crawling around him. He knew the reasoning behind it. The man’s thoughts weren’t quiet.

They drove to the school, glad this ‘mission’ was over. They didn’t expect to hear loud music roaring from the building. Logan tilted his head to the side, frowning. “Is that coming from the school?” Then they heard singing. It was like a live concert. “What’s going on?”

Logan parked the car in the garage. They helped Charles out of the car and into his wheelchair. The singing got louder. It echoed around the garage. The students were singing a familiar song. Charles smiled and chuckled. When was the last time something like this happened?

All three went from the garage and got to the main level. The song changed. After a brief silence, the singing began again. The students were crammed in the lounge room, dancing around and singing as loud as their voices let them. When some kids noticed the Professor, they made a passageway for him and the other two teachers.

Logan’s eyes widened in surprise. He found Storm, Y/N and Kitty in the middle of the room, surrounded by students, jumping and screaming words to the song playing.

If you could see that I’m the one who understands you. Been here all along, so why can’t you see? You belong with me.

It seemed everyone knew the words to that song. All three women swayed their hips to the music, jumping around like all the students. They were happy, enjoying the moment. Y/N grabbed JJ’s hands when she started twisting him around. Her face was bright and cheerful. Even the boy was thrilled.

She wears high heels. I wear sneakers. She’s cheer captain. I’m on the bleachers.

This part was powerful. As if everyone wanted to scream the chorus as loud as possible. No one cared that the headmaster was present. But Charles had a big smile on his face. Yes, they organised events for the students, but this happened out of nowhere. It was special. It was a bonding moment for everyone.

“I love this song!” Bobby shouted, bobbing his head to the song. He started to sing the lyrics.

Storm draped an arm around Y/N’s shoulders while Y/N wrapped an arm around her waist as they sang the song. One of her hands remained on JJ. They laughed at their silliness. Kitty found Bobby walking to her. She got excited and ran into his arms, and they swayed together to the song.

Storm discovered Bobby a few seconds later. She stopped dancing, and her eyes found Charles and Logan. Her arm fell from Y/N’s shoulders, and she made her stop dancing.

Y/N gasped. Her face heated up, and she quickly turned around to turn off the music. She had a remote control to the stereo. When the song was abruptly stopped, the students whined. It was evident they were displeased by the interruption.

“Professor,” Storm said his name nervously. “I’m sorry for this. We got carried away.”

Charles laughed. “Oh, Storm, no need to apologise. I like that you all have so much fun on a Sunday afternoon. You should continue to have more fun.”

Y/N was breathing heavily. Her chest was rising and falling visibly. It was quite a cardio. Her eyes met Logan’s, who had a grin on his face. He leaned against the nearest wall, crossed his arms over his chest and kept staring. When he licked his lips, Y/N’s eyes followed his every movement.

“Well, the magic of the moment is kind of gone,” Y/N said. “But we had good two hours of this fun, right?” she turned to see the kids. They shouted affirmations. Some of them whistled.

“Okay, everyone, it’s time for us to end this session,” Storm raised her voice so everyone could hear her. “Thank you for being here and having fun. It’s time to get to your rooms and prepare for tomorrow.”

Logan watched as Y/N hugged a few younger kids. First, it was JJ, which wasn’t surprising. Then, it was two other girls. That sight made his insides tingle. He felt love radiating out of her. It made him smile. When they separated, Y/N’s eyes were back on him.

He took a few steps forward while greeting some of the kids. “Are you trying to bribe them to like you?” he mocked her.

“Are you jealous I’m giving my attention to them and not you?” she poked his bicep when Logan was close enough. “Or should I bribe you too?”

“I’m not that easy, princess.”

“What if I tell you I sneaked in some beer?” she raised her brows.

He was impressed. “You got me. Wait, you want to get drunk again?” he asked. “I won’t be taking care of your ass next time.”

Y/N squinted. Her body was ready to jump at him. Not because she was angry at him. She wanted to kiss that smug smile off his face. Last night, she imagined what his hands would feel on her body, how he would taste and feel. She pictured his hands exploring her naked body, his lips between her legs.

“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself,” she said. There was a teasing smile on her face. She walked past him and found JJ talking to one boy. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

Logan watched her leave the lounge room with the boy. His mind was spinning. His eyes lowered and remained on her ass, watching it move with each step she took.

A hand tapped his shoulder. Bobby grinned at Logan. “You got it bad, my friend.”

“Shut up.”

#Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett x female reader #Wolverine #Logan Howlett #Wolverine x reader #Wolverine x female reader #Marvel fanfiction #X-men fanfiction #Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

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agirlwithglam · 2 months

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Motivation: things to like about these subjects

Math:

Isn’t math kinda magical in a way? See, the thing about math is that it’s the same in every country! Every equation, no matter how hard or complex or long, can easily be broken down into much easier ones, (like simple adding, multiplying, dividing, or subtracting) Once you know what’s going on, it’s not really that hard. (+ take cute notes!!)

Science:

Ookay, honestly? Science is genuinely so interesting! How your body works, how plants create their own food, how the whole solar system was made/ operates, whether there’s other life out there, chemical reactions & experiments? If you actually tried to be fascinated by it, you’ll be surprised how incredible it all is! (+ take cute notes!!)

English:

Me personally, I loveee English. You can too by trying to romanticise it!

If you’re doing poetry, like what’s there not to like? Poetry is such a beautiful language, it’s a way of expression through gentleness.

Writing short stories? This is my favourite. You can write it about anything, the possibilities are endless! Doesn’t it excite you?

History

Don’t try to remember facts and dates of events, try to learn the story behind it. You’ll find that it actually becomes so much more interesting if you remember the story, the emotions, the plots of the event.

Romanticising: hot chocolate or some hot coffee, studying at home, hair in a messy bun, playing some classical music in the background.

(+ also in class when you’re taking notes, you can doodle pictures of the people (stick figures for me lol), how they’d feel like or events on the side to add a bit of fun to it)

And honestly, history is such ‘romance subject’ (like arts, music, literature, languages)

Geography

Become good at it. If you don’t already have an interest in geography, then what helped me was becoming good at it. Paying attention during lessons, taking cute notes, etc. becoming good at it made it so much easier and less scary

Languages

This is also what I’d call a “Romance language”. Also dont you want to learn new languages? So many people decide to learn languages later in their lives because they find out it helps you in one way or another, but in school they’re already teaching it to you in the BEST WAY! Also knowing and being able to speak more than 1 languages fluently makes you SO powerful bc then you can speak in more countries. And also imagine how impressed people would be?!

Music

Have fun with it! It mostly depends on what you are doing in your music lessons, but what you would normally be doing is learning/ practicing an instrument. Don’t be immature and play it at random times when the teacher is talking, but just have fun with it! Again, like i said earlier, so many people start to learn music so much later in their lives and here it is being handed to you on a silver platter. TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT!

Art / art&design

Personally, I LOVE art!! It’s another “romance subject”. It’s a beautiful form of expression. Even though you may not be doing what you want to be doing, still have fun with it!! Be creative! And importantly: loosen up! Art, like beauty, is very very subjective. One person’s scribble can be another’s MASTERPIECE! So stop bring so worried with it being “correct”. Just have appreciation.

P.E (physical education/ sport)

I just don’t understand why anyone wouldn’t like PE. Like you don’t even have to learn anything, you just run around playing fun games. And as a bonus u get fit!

xoxo, vanilla

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 7 months

Text

Games in the library 18+ MDNI

Aemond x reader (Tutor/gamer au) Fluffish and also smuttish

Tags: smut, library fucking, public sex and nerdy gamer references.

Cool devider credits: saradika

🔷Summary: Your GPA is tanking and you need help. Luckily there is the grumpy antisocial Aemond to help you out.

🔷Author's note: Based on tutor aus but I made my own spin on it.

🔷Wordcount :7324

🔷Warnings: Au universe, smut, desk fucking, p in v, dom/sub, reader x aemond, fluff, gamer references, cozy gamer gf and shoot-em-up bf (found something else? Let me know)

There have been quite a few storms lately, causing more rain and making the world a little gloomy. You don’t mind, however. You have always been a fan of rain. Unlike today, where it’s an extra reminder how much you rather spent inside, cooped up with a good game with a warm cup of hot chocolate, not running around your campus with your bag above your head, as if life depends on it.

You are relieved when you make it inside, in the beautiful library that was built long before you began this study. You notice a silver-haired boy with a missing eye sitting in the corner of the room, with his math books in front of him, impatiently glaring around, unaware you are already there. “Hi!” you enthusiastically say, placing your Starbucks coffee cup and handbag on the table in the big messy library you just entered. It’s a saturday so most students would not want to be found death here at this time.

You have a reason to be here, sadly. You are failing math, falling behind more and more on the subject. So your professor, Borros assigned you a very unwillingly tutor, Aemond Targaryen. He sighed when Borros suggested he should tutor you, even going as far to say that there is no use in tutoring someone who does not want to learn. There is truth in that, but the issue is not that you don’t want to learn. It’s something else.

Aemond glares at your cup before standing up and checking the time on his expensive smartwatch. “Why are you late?” Great. You were afraid of not getting here in time, seems like your Starbucks trip took a little longer than you had planned out.

You take out your phone. You are exactly 5 minutes late. There was a big line in front of Starbucks. And you forget you had tutoring today, to begin with. “I—uhm—forgot the time.” You lie.

He looks at your Starbucks cup accusingly. If it had feelings, the cup would feel attacked, perhaps even insulted, before it would hop off the large wooden table and into a nearby trashcan, ending itself. You would gladly follow it in the rabbit hole trashcan. “I’m sacrificing my free Saturday for you. The least you could do is get here on time.” There is always a bit of a gruff, Gringe-like edge to his voice as if someone just stole his presents and he is pissed.

You huff. He acts so high and mighty, and yet you know there is nothing personal about this. He does not help you because he is some godly angel. He helps you to get points. This is not a charity project for him, or a social project this is cold selfishness and part of his plan to become the best student of your class, likely a step 4 in his 10 plan step to world domination.

You smile sweetly when adjusting your ponytail. “You aren’t sacrificing anything. You get points and the chance to become Borros’s TA.’’ You tell him, dangling his reward in front of him as if it’s a carrot, just in case he thought about bailing.

He dreams of that position for some reason, though you can’t for the love of the gods figure out why. Perhaps for status, power, future learning references or just to get close to Borros? Your teacher had hinted that if he could somehow get you to improve your grades, there might be a chance he would become his teacher's assistant. That was enough to sway Aemond into teaching you.

Aemond briefly pushes his gold-rimmed glasses back on his nose, smirking at you. You feel a little nervous under his gaze. “Correct. That means that I decide how this lesson will proceed.’’

His cryptic description makes your mind wander back to the familiar gutter you have come to know so well. You make a mental note to stop reading dark romance books with tutors for a while.

You ignore him. That makes him eager to get your attention back. “No calls, no texts—for the next hour, you are at my mercy.” Sweet gods.

His soft pink lips briefly smack before breaking into a grin that sends shivers down your spine. You are thankful for the small bolero that covers your dress.

Aemond is a huge nerd. Kinda cute, but he doesn’t know how innuendos work. And he is certainly not aiming his innuendos at you.

“Okay. So, you’re like good at math, right?’’ you ask, a little insecure. You are worried he might not actually teach you anything at all, though he is smart, his hands almost always scorching through the air as though Borros is personally offending him with his questions. He reads advanced math books whenever you and your girlfriends hang out in the library, shooting glares whenever you are too loud, giggling or gossiping.

He seems insulted that you think so lowly of him.”’I’m the best in our class.” You never really kept eye on who is the best of the class, and you do not really ever cared. Who cares, as long as you keep up your GPA it is all fine.

But you are not dumb, you need to keep him as your friend for now. At least your ally. Your accomplice? You don’t know. You think you would be all the way at the bottom. ‘’Impressive.’’ You say, but you can’t bother to meet his eye before taking a sip of your very delicious pumpkin spice late.

His head tilts slightly when he narrows his eyes suspiciously, reading you as a open book. He huffs. “I can tell you don’t give a damn. Take out your notebooks, study books and whatever else you might need. It is time we start.” Whatever else you might need? You feel dread and anxiety fill your chest as you become aware of your thoughts traveling already far away from the lesson.

He brought an adorable little digital clock, that he puts on the table gently, before turning it on, exactly 120 minutes. He really does not want to be here a second longer than he has to be.

You faithfully take out your notebooks decorated with Sanrio stickers, Pokémon stickers and panda stickers, as well as your textbook, and your collection of Hello Kitty gel pens. You put it all out for him to see, flicking the textbook open in front of you.

Aemond stands up, briefly looking over your handwriting in your notebook. He wets his lips before speaking. “Good girl.”

You roll your eyes.

He gets up from the chair across the table, walking to the empty seat next to you. He sits down, glancing at some of your previous sums, together with little drabbles and doodles. “So—what do you have problems with?”

You can feel the warmth of his body and smell the fabric softener he uses on his clothes. He probably does his own laundry.

This will be a long hour. You sigh, before summing it up. “Addition and subtraction, analog time, multiplication and division…’’ And you forget dozens of other things.

Anything and everything that involves numbers. You have been that way since a kid, throwing tantrums whenever you were forced to do math or make a puzzle. Your brain blacks out whenever you are forced to make a sum, and after a while your brain is just completely fried.

He wrinkles his nose, thinking. “So, everything?’’ he summarizes dryly.

You nod. “Yep.”

His good eye slightly widens. “I can do this,” he mutters, to himself more than to you. He taps on an empty page of your notebook with his fingers.

‘’Write down ‘twenty-five plus eighty-seven’.”

You obey, faithfully writing the sum down in your notebook with your favorite Hello Kitty glitter pens.

Aemond looks at the pen with a sigh, bending over your notebook to see what you wrote down. His brows furrow.

You try your best to focus on his voice and his words rather than the fact that he sits so close to you and smells like fresh strawberries.

‘’Alright. Next, write down ‘one hundred and fifty-nine plus ninety-four’.” Again, you write it down as best as you can, in a reasonably readable handwriting. You hear him curse under his breath, exhaling.

“Five hundred and thirty-two plus six hundred and fifty-six..”

You write a bit faster, messing up a few of the numbers in the process. You are glad you are starting with the addition sums, as they come the easiest to you.

“Lastly, three hundred and fifty-five plus four hundred and sixty-six.’’ He looks at your sums. With one glance at his face, you can tell you’ve already fucked it up. “I said ‘one hundred and ninety-five’, but you’ve written down ‘one hundred and fifty-nine’. I said ‘six hundred-and-sixty-five’, but you wrote down ‘six hundred and fifty-six’.”

Great. He must think you are doing it on purpose. Embarrassed, you quickly scratch out the numbers you wrote down before sighing, cursing yourself for thinking this was going to solve anything.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” he wonders. “Do you even want my help?” The nerve of this man.

“What do you think?” you snap, placing the cap back on your Hello Kitty gel pens. “You think you’re my first tutor? You think you’re the first who’s tried to help me? I’ve done all of this before, but none of it matters. Nothing will stick anyway.”

Your voice becomes squeaky. You blink rapidly to avoid ruining your mascara. He must think you are so stupid. You are. So, so stupid.

Aemond looks over your work again, sighing and rubbing his face. “No,” he murmurs quietly. “You turn them around. Some of the numbers.”

That has been an issue since you were introduced to numbers. That and the bigger they get, the bigger the chance you mess it up.

“No shit,” you huff, searching your handbag for your tissues. You find them buried under your perfume bottle and use them to wipe at your eyes.

His feet move under the table, briefly touching yours.

“Don’t get mean. Just making an observation.’’ He scratches behind his ear. “What do you mean, ‘nothing will stick’?”

Great. He will piss himself with laughter when he hears this.

You’d rather not tell him, or anyone, really. It is embarrassing. You are a twenty-two-year-old girl who can’t divide the simplest numbers and, without a digital clock, you’d get nowhere on time. You wouldn’t even know the time. People can and have taken advantage of that just to bully you. “It’s complicated,” you say.

His usual gruff voice softens. “Alright. So, tell me.”

What is the harm? you wonder. Who is he even going to tell?

“I’ve got a non-verbal learning disorder,” you mumble. There. He knows.

“What?” he asks, a little too loud for your liking. Even if he had whispered, it would have been too loud. There is no one here, yet you are worried somehow someone heard.

You growl back, “Non-verbal learning disorder. NLD.”

It is a little less common than dyslexia—a lot less common, actually. You have heard that dyscalculia and NLD is a very common combination. That might be the reason you are so horrible at math. Part of your brain just refuses to understand it, which frustrates you, which makes you upset, and all that means you’d very much rather not do math at all.

Aemond becomes very quiet before admitting something you never thought you’d hear. “I’ve never heard of that.”

Where could he have, though? He is very clearly a math expert, not a learning disorder expert.

You look at your polished pink nails with gold glitter.

“Hm. Not surprised. You are perfect after all, aren’t you?” you ask.

He becomes grumpy and unbearable, as you become mad and perhaps jealous that he is so perfectly fine and normal, and boring. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

Aemond takes out his phone. You thought they were ‘forbidden’. Didn’t he say so earlier? You glare, insulted. You have a social life, after all, and the world suddenly seems far more beautiful than it had been before you began your suffering here.

“So, are you telling me you don’t know how late it is now?” He shoves a Wikipedia page in your face. He looked it up.

You take out your phone. “Of course I do. It’s fifteen-thirty.”

You don’t say the correct time. You say ‘fifteen-thirty’. Fifteen thirty. Not half over past something, am or pm bullshit. You say it how it is. It’s fifteen-thirty.

Aemond draws a clock in your notebook. You quite like the way he uses your Hello Kitty gel pen for it. “And in analog time, that would be?” He wonders, his voice trailing off when his one remaining good eye glances at you.

You shake your head as he draws two hands on the clock, and multiple numbers. “Oh, no one cares about those lame old clocks,” you smoothly lie, and it is part of the truth.

No one uses those old lame clocks anymore. Everyone and their mother has a cellphone. Why bother reading a clock if you have a cellphone? And in your case—why bother reading a language your brain seems to not understand anyway?

Aemond sighs, reading you easily. He scratches the clock out. “You can’t read them, can you?” He asks after he has scratched them out. You can either deny it or lie about it but why waste energy and time?

This man is too observant.

“I know that the big one up means ‘twelve’,” you say with a little smile, very proud that one thing did decided to stick.

You can see it on his face—it’s becoming more and more clear that you don’t need a tutor. You need a miracle.

He blurts out a question. “How did you even leave high school?” he asks. You don’t think he meant to hurt you, but he still does.

“How did you lose your eye?” you ask, lashing out.

Aemond sits up a little straighter. “That’s quite a personal question—”

You smile back, still furious and hiding your displeasure by ripping your nails. “Exactly.” you groan.

“Fine,” he mutters. “I’m sorry. I’m impressed, if anything.’’

Fake sympathy. Yeah.

This is a waste of time, you didn’t learn years ago, why would you learn it now? Why did you even came here to begin with? A little voice reminds you of just why you came over. “You don’t need to lie to me. I know I’m stupid,” you mutter when playing with your bracelet.

Aemond grabs your wrist, letting go almost the second his skin touches yours. “You’re not stupid. I know you can be very clever and an absolute pain in the ass when you want to be.” He grins. “Just… not with numbers.” He closes your notebook.

“Really?”

You know you are clever on other fronts. It’s just difficult to believe you aren’t stupid when you see how advanced your peers and friends are and you still struggle over middle school math.

He nods. “Yeah. I remember for a while in History and Language that you were a threat to my position as best student.’’

You’d liked History for a while, it’s true. You were good at it—that is, until you got a social life and it became an afterthought. What might have happened if you had stayed on that path?

You don’t understand why he wants to be the best. “I mean, you are already first in math, aren’t you?”

He should not push for perfection as much as he does.

He shrugs. “I don’t care. I have to be the best in everything.” It sounds empty. You might not be the only one with problems.

You try telling him what you think. “That’s a little… unhealthy.”

He snaps at you, suddenly scowling. “Well, I don’t have a rich daddy to pay my way into school.”

Ah. That is his issue with you. He thinks you’re a rich little girl that has a daddy that pays for everything.

You stare at your pink nails, briefly ripping at them before speaking. “I don’t either. Mine died when I was two. I have a stepfather, but he’s too busy fucking my mom and arranging vacations to Dorne for the two of them to bother with me.’’

Aemond’s chest sinks a little, regret written across his face. “I’m sorry.”

He sounds sincere. And, just like that, you realize your math session has turned into a therapy session.

You laugh despite your sadness. “Look at me, trauma-dumping all over you. Sorry.”

You open your notebook at the same moment that Aemond grabs your fingers.

“I think you’ve earned a break.” He awkwardly lets go of you again.

That’s fast. “We haven’t solved a single sum,” you say. “I mean, we can solve one. I think this one is doable…”

You look at your crossed-out sums. Oh, yeah. That happened.

His silver-haired head nods up and down, but he does not answer at first, staring at your nails. “Perhaps not. But we have discovered why you have issues with this. Go take a break. That’s an order.”

He cheekily smirks at you, causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach. Perhaps not butterflies—perhaps just straight-up lust. You want to pull this guy in by his sweater and give him a good tumble.

You lick your lips. ‘’Yeah? What will you do if I don’t, sir?’’

He leans in a little closer, his eye flickering to your ruler lying untouched on the table. “Let’s just say… you wouldn’t like to find out.’’

Aemond takes a bottle of water from his bag and a sandwich while you grab a hot chocolate from the machine in the library and a freshly baked muffin from your bag.

You eat your muffin and then take out your Nintendo Switch bag, starting the device up for a brief moment of relaxation. You play Animal Crossing for a few minutes, forgetting the world around you as you’re sucked into your peaceful little island.

Aemond is very silent as well, staring mostly at you.

“I’ve got one too.” You are sucked out of your island and back into reality.

‘’Huh?’’ He nods to the switch.

He means a Switch. You didn’t think he would be into games. You think he would be too busy studying, really.

“What game are you playing?” he asks, tilting his head, coming a little closer so he can see for himself, almost touching your skin in the process as he clumsily bumps into you. ‘’Sorry.’’ He murmurs.

“A very intense one,” you comment as a compilation happens on your screen. You want to restore your island from desertcore to cottagecore and right now, one of your villagers has decided to be a menace.

On Aemond’s lips grows an almost dreamy smile as he stares at you playing on your Switch. “Oh—like Xenoblades? Zelda? Hades?”

You’ve heard of all three, but haven’t played them. They are not games you think you would like. They sound difficult, full of combat, full of puzzles and full of realisation that you are stupid. So you stay far, far away from them.

“Animal Crossing!” You turn your Switch so he can see your former desert island as you turn it back into a cute aesthetic-worthy village.

He tries to blink, but he only has one eye so it looks a little awkward. “That is your definition of ‘intense’?”

It can be. It can be so intense you rage-quit. Some of these animals have no manners—you’ve certainly bullied a fair few off your island.

“You try terraforming your island when a lazy villager sits in the way!” You point with your finger to the panda cub that sits in the way, right where you want to plant a bush. “That’s Chester, and right now he’s making my life hell—”

The panda, or Chester, enjoys a sandwich while smiling at your avatar, unaware of the misery he is

causing.

“That panda is?” Aemond asks, confused. “The panda is the issue? Can’t you tell him to move?”

That would be so helpful. But, unfortunately, no—that is not an option.

You nod, turning your Switch back to you. “He just won’t leave. I can hit him with a net, but he would hate me,” you mutter. “Pushing him is useless. He’s, like, glued to this spot.”

Aemond smiles to himself. “Perhaps he is saying we should return to studying.” Chester would say that, the menace. He has not given you his photo either, the bear knows too much.

“He says to me that I can have five more minutes,” you say, smiling and blinking your eyes innocently.

He sighs deeply, exhaling before putting his arm under his head, watching you terraform around your island. “Cute.” He sits up straight, blushing and quickly pointing to your Switch, decorated with stickers from Stardew Valley. “I meant, uh, the stickers.” He quickly mutters, and you can’t hide your own smile.

The stickers are cute, but you can’t help but wonder if he wasn’t talking about something else. “Thanks, they’re from Stardew Valley.”

“I heard that game—” Whatever Aemond would say next would forever be a mystery. He is rudely interrupted by your fan dumping all over him, telling him the plot, the main features, and your personal opinion of the game in the world-wide record of 4 minutes as you ramble. “You’re kinda supposed to help this town flourish by bringing crops you grow, artisan stuff, to this community center. You can also romance and have children and have a pet. There is like magic too, but I wish it was more fleshed out-’’ You shut up quickly. You put your switch down.

He nods, but you can tell you are losing his interest.

“You can slay monsters, too,” you blurt out. “And you have different swords, weapons and stuff. Sorry. I kinda ramble.”

“I like it. It’s cute when you ramble.’’ Damn it. You feel your cheeks redden. Aemond watches the rain outside, before asking another question about Stardew Valley. ‘’Can I kill my spouse?” he asks as a follow up.

You know the modding community is very active, but they are like about dogs and cat breeds, about teleportation hacks and making portraits better. Not about you know, full-blown murder. “No…”

He frowns as if that surprises him. “Is there warfare? Can I take other people’s farms? Is there a princess for me to save?” No, no, and no.

You understand you two play different games.

“No, not really. It does have multiplayer, though.”

Aemond’s scoffing little smirk returns but it does not meet his hurt and very glossy eye. “I’m kinda a loner.” He laughs but there is a hidden sadness there. A sadness you relate too all too well.

“I am, too,” you say.

“You have dozens of friends.” You can still have friends and be alone.

He refers to the girls that you hang out with. Are they friends? You don’t hang out aside from the weekend. You can’t call them, if something has happened to you, and they definitely don’t know you game or have NLD.

“Yes,” you say, “but…none of them game, I guess? Like, in that way, I’m alone. And I don’t make friends easily. Not everyone likes the games I play. Some wouldn’t even call it gaming. So, what kind of games do you like to play?”

He suddenly becomes interested in his very well cared for nails, and you know you hit a weak spot.

“Crusader Kings II, Zelda, Hades, Xenoblades and shooters.” He tells you. ‘’Mostly single-players.’’

You don’t know Crusader kings, but judging by the name, you do not have a cute farm at day and a run a witchy cozy coven at night. “The bloody ones.”

He snaps his head to you, smirking a bit.

‘’Zelda is not bloody.’’ Before he looks at your hair and your lipstick. ‘’I think you actually like it, if you gave it a chance.’’ He says. ‘’I mean, there is dozens of npcs to talk to, a wonderful open world, and ingredients to forage and outfits to collect and to find. In a way, it is Stardew Valley but without the Valley.’’

He definitely heard about Stardew Valley before. ‘’You know a lot about Stardew.’’

He nods. ‘’My sister, Helaena, she plays it a lot. I wouldn’t know how to play it, however.’’ He confesses, slightly tilting his hands. ‘’It’s beyond me how you get anything done with a time limit and a stamina bar.’’

You smile, and you never thought you would in his company. ‘’Describe the story. Of that Zelda game.’’

He needs some time to think before telling you the main story. ‘’You see, with an adventure game that’s…that would defeat the purpose of playing. So: You are a hero, named Link. After 100 years, you awake in a shrine, and you hear a voice, and you need to save the kingdom and the princess.’’ It sounds very …male-written and male-aimed. You aren’t sure Zelda is for you.

You have another problem with it too.

‘’That sounds horrible. Imagine waking up from your nap, and suddenly you got to save the world.’’

At first he is confused but the moment he knows you are joking, he laughs, a very delightful sweet and welcoming sound. ‘’It starts very locked, but there’s so much you can do in the game, in my honest opinion it's one of their best entries in the series. There’s cooking, horses-’’ Horses? There are horses? And cooking? ‘’There is combat, but you learn quickly, at least I did. The monsters are actually clever, and in the beginning, its best to avoid them until you get decent weapons.’’ You aren’t sure. Combat? The monsters in the skull cave of Stardew Valley regularly kick your ass. ‘’There are puzzles too-’’ That is where you draw the line. No puzzles.

‘’Hell no. I hate puzzles.’’ You did as a kid, and still as an adult you can’t figure out how some people enjoy putting together these images, made up of 1,000 pieces and when they finish it, they destroy it too. Like what is the point? And it does not help you can never figure out where to start.

‘’I know.’’ That catches you off guard. Aemond does not pressure you into it. He simply accepts it. ‘’But they are fun. We can solve most problems in multiple ways. You can’t fuck this up, if you are scared of that. Even if you die, you can restart as many times as you like. And no one is going to call you stupid for it.’’ He promises you, when leaning in a little closer, touching your face gently.

‘’Not even you?’’ You ask, for confirmation, not sure why you care but you hate for him to laugh at you for doing something very rookie.

He shakes his head. ‘’No. It took me a lot of time to get the hang of it too, if you must know.’’ So he is not as perfect as he pretends to be. ‘’I already told you: I don’t think you are stupid.’’

You lean in a little closer to him, staring at his soft pink lips. You make your voice as dry as possible. ‘’What if I call ‘’Link’’ ‘’Zelda?’’ You ask him with a cheeky grin. Nothing annoys Zelda fans more than that.

He grins back, but has faith in you. ‘’I know you won’t.’’ That is true. You know that the Princess is called ‘’Zelda’’ but the person you play as is called ‘’Link.’’ To confuse the two would be like calling JojaMart Pierre’s general store.

‘’But what if I do?’’ You ask, getting a little cheeky. ‘’Hm? Sir?’’ You ask, pushing his buttons a little more as you grin.

He needs to make an effort to hide his smirk, quietly muttering when eyeing the stickers on your switch. ‘’Don’t push me, we are alone after all, and I’m very bored.’’ He murmurs, sending a shiver down your spine when his voice gets that rough edgy little dark edge.

‘’Are you …Interested?’’ You ask, surprised.

He lifts his head, a bit insulted. ‘’You think I would not avoid you like the plague if I wasn’t?’’

All this time you thought he hated you, but he had a crush on you. ‘’I thought you hated me! That I annoyed you!’

He blushes, quickly cleaning his glasses for some reason. ‘’No, I just don’t like it when I can’t control my feelings. Like I become very different around you.’’ You noticed. He puts walls around himself.

‘’You become a little angry bird or a Goomba.’’ You know for sure he knows what a Goomba is, and you know it as well. They are the adorable little creatures from Mario games that try to murder Mario and look grumpy.

He chuckles, mortified by your description.

‘’Please, no, gods, not a Goomba.’’

You do find the courage to tell him your final thoughts, before flipping your notebook again, picking up where you left with the sums. ‘’If it helps, you are kinda cute too, Aemond.’’ You tell him, and you mean it. ‘’Not that I’m into Goombas, but..Yeah. You’re cute.’’ You tell him.

He nods, absently before he becomes serious again. ‘’Did you ever try motivational tutor lessons?’’ Motivational what?

‘’What uhm do you mean?’’ You ask, a little lost.

He shrugs, smiling. ‘’Well, people are more likely to succeed if there is a reward for them in it.’’ You notice him biting down at his lips, avoiding your eyes.

‘’And uhm, what would my reward be?’’ You ask your body to betray you within mere seconds as you think of how he will reward you. You, on the couch on top of him when fucking him-

He grins, when slowly touching your legs, going to the space between your legs, to where your dress ends. ‘’Whatever you like,’’ he purrs softly in your ear. ‘’ A cup of coffee, a donut…’’

You nod, a little disappointed and curse your dirty mind. That man is a saint for trying with you. Aemond reaches out to grab something close to your textbook and your eyes follow his fingers. ‘’People are likely to succeed more if they are disciplined too.’’ He is just teasing you, you tell your very dirty minded mind.

You know he will make you stand in the corner or perhaps take your phone away. ‘’And what would my punishment be?’’ You ask, dryly when you copy the sums from the textbook.

Aemond sighs. ‘’I won’t do anything you don’t consent to, that is the first lesson.’’ You were taking a sip of your cold coffee and nearly spat it out, all over your textbook as your cheeks burned with interest.

‘’But if you are into a little motivation, I guess I can show you another use for this pretty ruler.’’ He mutters, tapping with the ruler against the palm of his hand. You notice he has excellent self-control. This will be fun.

Yet you are surprised, that the red sweater glass-wearing sniveling little best of the class into BDSM. ‘’You’re into Kink?’’ You ask, your voice is a bit strangled.

‘’That’s not an answer, little brat.’’

He totally is. Gods, just your luck, stuck with Aemond Targaryen who is secretly into brat taming. Whatever sums you wanted to make, will certainly get fucked up now.

‘’Do you expect me to really learn better?’’ You hope he understands that your brain is just not a regular brain. It won’t magically solve things now that you are motivated.

Aemond shakes his head. ‘’I kinda don’t. But it’s alright, love. I won’t get upset with you. Not really, at least.’’ He tells you with a grin. ‘’But I won’t lay a finger on you until I get your consent.’’ Such a gentleman.

‘’Fine, you’re free to touch me.’’

On his lips, grows a dangerous smirk as he grins, before sitting next to you. ‘’What is the square root of 48?’’ He puts his left hand on your knee and slowly makes his way to your thigh…

Fuck. ‘’Uhm, 4.’’ You blurt out. It is a gamble but you don’t care.

Aemond chuckles before tsking as a disapproving teacher, before grinning and telling you the correct answer. ‘’That would be 6.’’ You growl, a little angry you didn’t know it. But he softly murmurs in your ear, when his hands go over your body. ‘’Take off your coat.’’ He tells you coldy.

You let out a little squeak. He grins, adding softly. ‘’Again, if you want to, of course.’’

‘’I want you to strip too.’’ You tell him after you have taken your coat off.

He chuckles, thinking you can’t defeat him. That you don’t know his weakness. But he told you, earlier today without him realizing so. ‘’You can ask me questions but I know a lot more about math-’’

You interrupt him, smiling.

‘’What year did the Titanic sink?’’

Aemond gawks at you, before thinking deeply. It is a random event that did kill people, but it had no major consequences. ‘’1910?’’ He guesses. You grin.

‘’1912, take off your shoes.’’ You tell him.

‘’Fuck.’’ he murmurs, but obeys. ‘’If I go with the train at 9:20, and the train takes half an hour-'’ No way you will get that one, so you take your dress off, zipping your zipper down and exposing your black bra and matching knickers. Aemond’s breath catches slightly, exhaling when his pupils enlarge.‘’Good girl.’’ That is enough to worsen your arousal and to harden your nippels. Aemond watches as it happens, a pleased contemptuous smile on his lips.

‘’Tell me, little Brat. Darwin’s father has four children, Red, orange, yellow and-’’ It is a pattern question. A clear question. Red orange yellow are colors represented in the rainbow. ‘’Green?’’ The moment you said it, you repeat the question silently before growling.

‘’No! "It's Darwin!” You grow out.

He chuckles. ‘’You can keep your pretty knickers and bra on. I want you to sit on my lap.’’ You sit down on his lap, making sure to rub him a tiny bit in the process, to make him wild. He groans in your ear when forcing your ass down. ‘’Such a naughty little brat. And so wet for me too.’’ He murmurs in your ear when his fingers smoothly slide in your knickers, before toying with your folds, touching before inspecting your wetness. You twist on his lap, trying to force the finger to move deeper, harder, and rougher. Aemond pulls you tightly to his chest to avoid you moving at all.

You enjoy his control more than you should. ‘’Fuck…’’ You quietly mutter. He muses happily to himself as you squirm and twist on his lap.

‘’So tense, are we shy, little brat?’’ He is toying with you, torturing you.

‘’Aemond, please.’’ You beg, helplessly as he begins to fuck your body with his fingers, and you happily fuck his hands, clenching yourself whenever you are allowed.

You need to find release soon, and he knows it very well judging by his smirk. ‘’I’m afraid I won't listen to that name. You will call me Sir or you will refrain from speaking at all.’’ He says, and your fucked up little brain enjoys it too much.

That is so hot. He has an authority kink. ‘’Fuck!’’

He grins, as he takes a stance behind you.

‘’I’m afraid I can’t allow such crass words.’’

Oh shit. You feel your heart race and your stomach flutter with lust and butterflies and your curious mind wanders. ‘’Aemond…’’ He grabs you briefly by the throat, but he does not make it hurtful. He raises a brow.

You look at your shoes.

‘’I meant, Sir…’’ Your face is pressed down against the wood of the table, before Aemond growls.

‘’Nothing will save you now, little brat. You are all mine.’’

He grabs the ruler and your cheeks are spanked first with his fingers before he moves on to the iron ruler, hitting your cheeks with precision but hard enough for you to like it. You squirm on the desk, certain you leave a trail of wetness as Aemond uses the ruler on both your ass cheeks, finding a torturous rhythm. And yet you like it. You want it to happen again, you want to brat. ‘’Fuck,’’ you cry out as three of his fingers enter your pussy. His left hand is feeling you up, when his right continues to punish you for your sins. ‘’Sir, sir please!’ You moan.

‘’Are you sorry?’’ He asks, between fucking you on the desk with his hand and spanking you. You nod, furiously. He sighs, letting go of you and his fingers leave your spent wet cunt. ‘’Good. Don’t be naughty again or I will punish you again.’’ He warns you. You want to brat. And you want to brat so hard that he will punish you with his cock this time.

You bring your own fingers to your entrance but before that you can shove them in, Aemond has grabbed your wrist, painfully twisting it. ‘’Seems like someone can’t behave herself.’’ You nod, furiously as if you regret it deeply. Aemond sighs. ‘’Pull my pants down for me.’’ He tells you, and you inwardly cheer. You get to work, unbuttoning his jeans for him and pulling them down first, before staring at his boxers which barely hide his erected cock.

You pull his boxers down too, freeing his cock as the red swollen tip is pushed in your face, with clear precum on the edge. ‘’Get on the desk.’’ He tells you. ‘’Bent over it, the way I know you want to.’’ You know what he means very well, and you obey, bending over the desk so he could take you on it.

He sighs before grabbing one of your hands and wrapping your fingers around his cock. ‘’Make me go wild, and I’ll fuck your little needy pussy.’’ You obey, your back turned to him as you try to please him with your fingers rubbing his head and his balls.

You are bended, and Aemond opens your legs roughly and sharply, before going inside of you with his cock, filling you all the way with his length as you silently whisper. Aemond starts to trust and you become lightheaded and carried away on your pleasure. He fits so well. ‘’Sir,’’ you weakly mutter as he fucks you on the table, your book and hello kitty gel pens still present. Aemond grunts as an animal before grabbing the ruler, smacking your cunt this time, causing you to cry out in pleasure. ‘’Sir!’’ You repeat your own cry, before slamming your hips against his own, begging him to finish you. ‘’Please!’’

‘’Such a needy cunny. I’m going to come inside of you, little Princess. You are going to tell all your little whore friends about this, that you got fucked by a man in the library, used as a glorified slave. You will tell them how red and throbbing your little pussy was, and you will not tell anyone it was me. Is that understood, or do you need me to fucking explain it another way?’’ You understand, but you would love another explanation because it sounds so dirty.

‘’Another way. I’m pretty stupid.’’

He glares as if he disagrees with that.

‘’Very well.’’

Aemond grabs you by your hips again, fucking you.

‘’’N-no, Aemond, I have a party tonight-’’ You tell him, begging him to be a bit gentle.

He groans. ‘’I don’t care. Fuck your parties.’’

He did not get invited.

‘’Nhn!’’ You cry out as his cock cruelly fucks you, not giving a damn about your warnings.

Aemond’s lips briefly kiss your sweaty forehead.

‘’Delicious, such a good cunny.’’ He murmurs, rubbing your cunt until blood sticks to his fingers. You need a little push. Just one tiny push. ‘’And now, you will come for me, my slut. When I tell you, you will come all over my cock, soaking me.’’ You nod, bracing yourself.

Aemond fucks you harder and faster and it becomes difficult to hold your orgasm in. You need to release it, you need to find a release fast. ‘’Sir, please.’’ You beg, helpless. He grins, spanking your needy pussy.

‘’I know, but try to show some self-respect, my little brat.’’

You wordlessly wail. He sighs, before impaling you thoroughly and resting his hands on your hips. He whispers in your ear. ‘’Come.’’ You obey, freed from a prisoner and let go when you two fuck each other roughly, your muscles hurting from the rough fucking on the desk. And finally, you come all over his cock, just as he promised you would. He takes you two more times after that, bringing you close to two other orgasms, before denying those two. You are taken without warning and lose your control, coming all over him, earning you a spanking and a rough fucking before he comes inside of you as well, with a lot of curse words and grunts.

‘’Fuck, Y/N.’’ He murmurs, in your ear. You put your underwear and bra back on. The timer ends, revealing that two whole hours have passed. Aemond dresses himself quickly too, looking at your messy hair and glassy eyes.

You become aware of the feelings and the urge to run far away from them. ‘’I have to go.’’ You tell him.

Aemond stops you, gently and you know he has become himself again, dropping the dom-act.

‘’No. You seem to know some things about Kink, but after playing with my ladies, I give them aftercare. You deserve a bagel, or a donut, or fuck it, another Starbucks if you want. If we were at my place, I’d prepare a bath for you or give you a message.’’ He rambles on. ‘’Let me buy you something nice for your lunch, and at least walk you home.’’ He asks, no, begs. Your face melts at his sweet manners.

You put your stuff in your back, as Aemond zips up your dress for you, careful to avoid your hairs. He has done this before. You wonder how many times and with who. ‘’She is judging us.’’ He suddenly whispers, nodding to your hello kitty gel pen.

After two hours he has become just as mad as you have. ‘’She knows too much, I might drown her into my Starbucks later.’’ You tell him.

He does not approve of that idea.

‘’That would be sad and torture.’’

‘’Fine, I’ll just…put her in my pencil case.’’ You do as you promise him, putting the gel pens in your pencil case.

‘’That’s it, good girl.’’

He winks before following you to Starbucks.

‘’Hey, uhm Aemond?”’ You ask after you are waiting for your order. Aemond looks around a little amazed. He has never been here before, calling it a capitalistic hell.

‘’Yeah?’’ his hands nervously play with his rings. He can be so adorably shy.

‘’What are you doing tonight?’’ You wonder, hoping you don’t regret this. As in, he does not say no.

‘’Not much, I might actually play Zelda. Why?’’ He wonders.

‘’Want to come to this party with me?’’ You blurt out with a smile.

a/nthank you for reading let me know what you think. there might be a part 2 but i havent decided yet.

The eh creatures above the a/n are goombas.

188 notes · View notes

hayleythesugarbowl · 10 months

Note

Hiiii could you write a Remus Lupin (as an adult) with x reader who is a student at Hogwarts? Like a teacher x student one maybe? Like Remus knows that that is wrong but he can’t resist her even if he really tries to. Write smut or fluff both is good :)

Thanks in advance 💐

Stolen Glances || Remus Lupin x student!reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • my other remus x reader oneshot ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: oneshot where remus finds himself drawn to you against his better judgement even though you are one of his students

word count: 3.1k

warnings: age gap but it’s legal

a/n: tysm for this request lovely!! i hope this is what you wanted! also, for legal purposes the reader is in year seven and eighteen years old but you can imagine it however you want. also i made the reader a ravenclaw. enjoy!! 🎀🍓💌

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You walked down the spiraling staircase that lead from your dorm to the Ravenclaw common room, a series of hallways, and eventually the majestic great hall at Hogwarts.

You wrapped your cloak around yourself tighter in the chilly September temperatures. Even though you were within the walls of the castle, you still felt the cold in the air and rubbed your arms to stay warm.

You finally came to the great hall, stopping for a second to look around. Even though you’d been going to school here for six years you still found it a breathtaking sight. You kept walking and found a spot at the Ravenclaw table next to Penelope Clearwater, your best friend of four years. You sat down, piling food onto your plate quickly and shoving it into your mouth even quicker.

“Woah, slow down (Y/n)!” Penelope said.

“Good morning to you too,” you teased, “I’m in a hurry. I’ve got Defense Against the Dark Arts in ten minutes.”

You had probably taken too many classes for your own good this year. But you wanted to take as many subjects as you possibly could in your last year at Hogwarts. And you wanted to start this year off by not being late to your first class.

“So do I,” Penelope took a bite of a biscuit, “Third floor right? I’ll walk with you.”

You finished your breakfasts and gathered your books, heading towards the staircase that would take you to the third floor.

“So who do you think we’re gonna have this year?” you asked your friend. Every year since your 5th year when Professor Quirrell had been killed in a fight with Harry Potter after he began aiding He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, you’d had had a different Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. You shuddered, thinking of the dark wizard.

“I don’t know, but I hope whoever it is actually teaches us something instead of the other way around,” she said. You laughed, knowing she was referring to Professor Lockhart, your last DADA teacher.

You turned a corner, passing a few other students with early classes making their way down the hallway.

You walked into the classroom and found a man with his back to you, his head bent over a book on his desk. His robes looked well worn, and his brown hair looked as if he’d been running his fingers through it. Upon hearing you and your friend walk into the classroom, he turned around noticing you and Penelope and giving you a warm smile.

“Good morning…,” he paused waiting for you to tell him your names.

“I’m (Y/n) (Y/l/n) and this is Penelope Clearwater,” you answered.

“Well Miss (Y/l/n) and Miss Clearwater, I’m Professor Lupin. I’m afraid you’re a bit early, but please take a seat anywhere you like.”

You smiled back at him as you went to sit in one of the chairs closest to you. Penelope sat down next to you and began flipping through one of the textbooks she held. You watched Professor Lupin as he went about what you assumed was finishing preparing his classroom. He looked tired, as if he hadn’t had a good nights rest in some time but there was something about the way he carried himself that seemed to hint at a subtle energy. Intrigued, you continued to watch him. He mumbled a few spells, rearranging what you hoped weren’t crates holding some sort of magical creatures.

“(Y/n)? Did you hear me,” Penelope broke you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, sorry, got distracted. What did you say?”

She rolled her eyes, smiling, “I just asked what you thought of the Professor but I think I have my answer.”

You blushed despite yourself, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she said cryptically.

You wanted to press her further but plenty of other students had started to filter in and take their seats and Professor Lupin now stood in front of the class, waiting.

“Good morning everyone,” he said, “as most of you know, I am going to be your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year.”

He started pacing and continued. “I hope all of you will take this class as an opportunity to not only learn how to defend yourselves but to grow as witches and wizards. I want you to look inside yourselves. Most of all, I hope you come out of this class today with more questions than answers. I can see the potential in all of you as I look around this class and ask that you always apply yourselves to your full potential so you can become the best versions of yourselves.” He looked at the class with a smile and a twinkle in his eye.

You listened aptly and could have almost sworn he was looking right at you as he finished his speech, his eyes burning holes into your forehead. You looked down quickly, smiling to yourself.

“Now if there are no questions, I invite all of you to turn your books to page 10 and let us begin.

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“I’m telling you, you like him,” Penelope said as she fought to walk faster to keep up with your pace as you tried to get to your next class and away from this conversation.

“Penny, he’s a professor and you’re delusional.”

She pulled at the strap of her bag as you guys walked. “I see the way you look at him.”

You stopped abruptly, “Since when did focusing in class because I want to get good marks become fancying the teacher?” Besides, there was something about Professor Lupin that you just liked, even though you were only a few months or so into the school year. And not only because he was, you thought, attractive with his bright smile and kind eyes. He was intelligent and wise but also patient and you could tell he really cared for his students. Not that those students necessarily included you…

“I see the way he looks at you too,” your friend wiggled her eyebrows.

“Ok, that’s it! No more romance novels for you,” you began walking again. You quickly added, “And besides he doesn’t really like me, remember?.”

“I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Penelope matched your pace, “Why wouldn’t he? You make perfect marks and answer all his questions in class.”

It was true. You had kind of become known for being a teachers pet in most of your classes—much to the amusement and teasing of your best friend and the appreciation of your professors. Especially Lupin. Until recently, he had beamed every time you answered one of his questions or volunteered to demonstrate a spell. However, lately you got the feeling he didn’t like you all that much. Or at least was indifferent to you. You weren’t sure why, and couldn’t be certain, but you thought you didn’t imagine that he avoided looking in your direction. You tried to tell yourself it didn’t bother you, but it did. You cared about his approval, wether you wanted to admit it or not.

“Drop it, Penny, ok?” She didn’t look like she would drop it anytime soon.

“‘Oh, Professor Lupin, what spell would you recommend using here? What is the counter-curse to this charm? Why don’t you love me? Why haven’t you asked me to marry you yet?” She mocked, giggling.

“I heard that,” you snapped, not looking back.

You walked into Defense Against the Dark Arts together and found all of the desks pushed to the side and a group of students crowded in the center of the room with Professor Lupin standing next to a large wardrobe at the front. Turns out your pause in the hallway has made you a bit late, so you and Penelope snuck in right as class was starting.

“Alright students: Boggarts,” Professor Lupin said, not noticing as you two entered the classroom late, “who can tell me what they are?”

“They’re shapeshifting creatures, known for turning into the worst fear of whoever comes upon them,” you answered instinctually.

“Show off,” Penelope mumbled, teasing you. You elbowed her in the rib.

“Very good, excellent!” Lupin beamed, looking around the grouping of students trying to find where the voice came from. Upon seeing who had answered him, he looked down and cleared his throat, continuing. You bit your cheek and looked at Penelope, as if to say: See? She furrowed her brow.

“Boggarts can only take the shape of a fear. They have no form of their own and therefore cannot hurt you. Now, I’m going to open this cabinet and I want a volunteer to step forward—don’t worry, you’ll all get a chance to participate—and at my command use the spell ‘Riddikulus’. Are you ready?”

The first student, a nervous-looking boy with red hair, stepped forward.

Lupin took a few steps backwards, hand ready to open the cabinet. “Now, relax, hold your wand like so…and remember, the only thing you have to fear is fear itself.”

He pulled it open with a flourish and within seconds a large scorpion took form. The boy let out a yell and jumped backwards but Lupin stayed calm, telling him what to do. Eventually, he was able to gain control of himself and the scorpion briefly donned a cowboy-hat before it was gone. The class applauded and the boy held his chin a little higher than he had before.

In turn, all of your classmates had a go with the Boggart, which turned into a variety of fears from snakes to clowns to a stalk of celery, and when it finally came time for you to step forwards you weren’t feeling particularly terrified.

“Ready?” Lupin asked. When you nodded, he let the cabinet open and you almost stopped breathing entirely.

There, in front of you, was who could only have been He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself, grinning wickedly. You felt your legs turn to lead and watched as he reached out a bony finger towards you. You, of course, had never actually seen him, but you had no doubt that’s who stood in front of you. Rooted in place you felt like the world was spinning. You heard the other students’ distorted screams, as if they were coming from very far way and the last thing you remembered was Professor Lupin’s concerned face as he rushed towards you before everything went dark…

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Light. The first thing you saw was a bright light as you squinted your eyes and tried to make sense of what was happening. You shut your eyes again. The last thing you remembered was being in class, the screaming of your classmates, and Vol—

You shot up, your memory returning. You looked around you. You were sitting on a couch and appeared to be in a small sitting area decorated in browns and greens. Your head pounded but you felt wide awake. Suddenly, a voice startled you from behind.

“Miss (Y/l/n), good you’re awake.” You looked around you and saw Professor Lupin standing in the doorway behind you holding a steaming cup of tea.

Embarrassment flooded through you. You attempted a smile. Lupin walked over to you, handing you the cup of tea and offering you a piece of chocolate.

“Take this,” he said gently, “It’ll help.”

You took them gratefully. Lupin sat down next to you.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, “Does anything hurt?”

“Just my pride,” you smiled ruefully. Professor Lupin smiled back at you, the first time he’d really smiled at you in months. You wondered what had brought on the change but figured it was probably just because you’d passed out in his class and he felt bad for you.

“There’s no shame in being afraid, (Y/n),” he assured you. “If I’d known your Boggart would take the form of Vol—You-Know-Who, I promise I wouldn’t have made you face it.”

You appreciated his attempts to make you feel better, but you doubted anyone had ever fainted in his class before. You didn’t even know why, really. You-Know-Who was gone, or at least that’s what everyone was saying. There were…rumors though. But still.

“How long was I…out for?” You asked.

“Not long,” he answered, “I know your friends will be glad to see you awake, though.” He made to get up.

“Wait,” you stopped him, “where am I exactly?”

He sat back down. “Oh, right, I—I brought you to my chambers. It was the first place I could think for you to lie down.”

“Well, you have lovely taste,” you gestured around the apartment, admiring the decor. Professor Lupin laughed. “I’d say it’s nice in here if I wasn’t here on the grounds that I fainted in front of the whole class like a total loser.”

Lupin smiled, “Like I said, there is no shame in fear. And you’re not a loser. You’re one of the brightest students of your year and any Professor would be lucky to have the honor to teach you.”

You were touched. You weren’t sure that Lupin had uttered this many words to you in a month, much less so complimentary.

“Thank you,” you told him.

He looked at you warmly, and then as if suddenly catching himself, he looked at the clock on the far wall and said curtly, “Well, I really should be getting back to class and you need rest, stay as long as you like.”

You didn’t know what had brought on this sudden change in the professor’s mood but it frustrated you. You were grateful to him for helping you but suddenly just as you felt like he saw you as a person again, he dismissed you. Maybe on any other day you would have just let him leave, but now, lying on Remus Lupin’s couch and having already made a fool of yourself, you surprised yourself by saying, “Why do you hate me?”

Lupin stopped in his tracks, turning around, “(Y/n), what?”

Now that you had said it, you couldn’t stop saying things. “It’s just, I’m a good student. And I always participate in class and you can’t even look at me! And then you’re kind to me one second and the next you just act like I don’t exist. I just—what did I do to you?” You realized your head was hurting again and you leaned back on the couch cousin.

Lupin looked like he was fighting with himself and then he ran a hand through his hair and sat down beside you. “Miss (Y/l/n), i don’t hate you I can promise you that.”

When you didn’t say anything, he continued, “I think your a phenomenal student—person. Your bright and kind and wise beyond your years—” he breaks off, “and it isn’t that I don’t like you. I—the problem is, I like you too much.”

What? You didn’t understand him. He sensed your confusion and tried again.

“I never in my wildest dreams imagined saying this to you,” he looks down, “but here we are. You deserve the truth. I like you, Miss (Y/l/n). A lot. And the reason I find it hard to look at you is because I cannot deny my attraction to you and I know how wrong it is but I can’t—gosh I can’t believe I’m telling you this. I can’t resist you and it’s painful to look at you when I know I can never do anything about it.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Of all the things you’d expected him to say…. You found yourself blushing. You tried to form words but couldn’t, your head still spinning. Lupin stood up.

“Now I think it’s best if I leave,” he moved towards the door.

“Wait,” you found yourself saying. You walked closer to him, close enough so you could see the faint scars on his face and smell his scent of vanilla and cinnamon. You looked into his eyes and saw the struggle there. You didn’t know if it was the lighting or adrenaline or maybe it was still the effects of what had happened this afternoon but you leaned in and suddenly you were kissing him.

He pulled away, “(Y/n), we can’t—” but you pulled him in again. This time he didn’t fight it, kissing you back softly at first, hesitant, but then more passionately and you could feel the months he’d spent waiting to do this but telling himself it would never happen. He moved a hand to your hair, the other on the small of your back.

He pulled away again. “(Y/n), we don’t have to do this. There are plenty of guys your age who’d be lucky to have you and I don’t want to tie you down with a—”

“I want you,” you interrupted, kissing him again.

Neither of you heard as the door opened and—

“(Y/n),” a voice said, “someone said you were in here and—” the voice stopped abruptly.

You and Lupin pulled apart, gasping as you turned around and stared at Penelope. Her mouth was open and she was looking between the two of you in utter disbelief.

“Well, I just wanted to make sure you were ok but it seems you are,” she mumbled, a small smile forming on her lips.

“Miss Clearwater,” Professor Lupin started but you interrupted him.

“It was my fault Penny, I kissed him.”

“Now, Miss (Y/l/n),” Lupin began but this time

Penelope interrupted both of you, now smiling big, “I don’t care who’s fault it is, I’m just glad it finally happened.” You stared at her, amused.

“Hey, I’m the one who said you were in love with him after months of you obsessing over him and—”

“That’s a gross exaggeration.” Your cheeks flamed and Lupin smiled down at you. “And Penny—”

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me!” She beamed, putting a finger to her lips. “I’ll be outside.” She walked towards the door, looking at you wickedly.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” you called to her. And then you and Professor Lupin were alone again.

“Sorry about…that,” you said.

“Don’t be,” he put his hands in his cloak pockets, “I didn’t know you were obsessed with me.”

“Ok, I’m going to kill her!” You stomped your foot but you were smiling.

Lupin looked at you seriously now, and lifted a hand to brush your hair out of your face, “Still think I hate you?”

“Maybe a little less,” you teased. You clasped his hand and he interlocked his fingers with yours.

“You’re beautiful, (Y/n). You know that? You’re one of the most special people I know.”

You leaned up and kissed him gently. “I’m so glad this happened,” you whispered.

“Me too,” he said.

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ˋ°•*⁀➷ thank you @merthosus for the request, i hope this is what you wanted and that you enjoyed this!! i love writing for lupin so much also this whole thing was written while listening to taylor swift so do with that what you will 🎀have a lovely day/night <3

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x student!reader #remus lupin #harry potter #student x professor #teacher x student #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #x reader

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