Boyfriend Whos Also Your Best Friend. You Two Are Practically Inseparable, Going On Fun Dates Several

boyfriend who’s also your best friend. you two are practically inseparable, going on fun dates several times a week and always spending the night at each other’s places. you feel the most comfortable around him with his welcoming and understanding personality. though arguments and little disagreements are inevitable, you two make up eventually and laugh about the petty behavior. your love for each other is forever treasured and irreplaceable.

ATSUMU, KUROO, osamu, akaashi, HINATA, bokuto, yamaguchi, OIKAWA, suna, TENDOU

YOUR sakusa may be cold and neat and reserved and mature. but MY sakusa sits sprawled out on the sofa throwing popcorn at his tv screen as he boos at the couple kissing just because you jokingly said atsumu was a better server than him at dinner and he’s being dramatic

Your perv professor post with Albedo was so good!! I’m literally shaking and crying 😭 do you have any spare thoughts on other pervy professors, like maybe pervy biology professor Dottore….

ask and you shall receive, my love.

GENSHIN MEN AS YOUR PROFESSOR HEADCANONS

pairings: dottore + diluc + kazuha + scaramouche & f !reader [separately]

notes: sorry if this isn't really that pervy !! i hope dottore's part is okay - i couldn't see him as a biology professor though so i did swap that.

warnings: college au, professor ! character and student ! reader, inappropriate relationships, individual warnings on each headcanon, scaramouche favoritism.

w.c.: 1.7k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

DOTTORE, professor of mechanical engineering.

warnings: slight yan ! dottore, sex toys, dottore's special inventions, aphrodisiac use, implied mindbreak, voyerism, male masturbation, mild implication of non-con + drugging in the second paragraph, mean dom ! dottore, unhealthy relationship, abuse of power?, sort of semi-public stuff.

dottore is known for his love for inventing and his affections towards machinery, hence his extended study having qualified him for a teaching position. the man would spend ungodly hours buried in a restricted area of his lab, so heavily guarded that even the college's janitors were not permitted to enter - he would be tinkering with his own special projects. once he had gained the trust of his darling, gotten you addicted to him, you would be taken back to this top secret area. dottore would have set up an array of his inventions to be tested on you. they ranged from machines that at least slightly resembled regular, shop bought dildos to much more abnormally shaped creations. he wouldn't want to risk scaring you away, even if he already had you wrapped around his finger just the way he wanted. he'd begin with the lighter machinery, enjoying as his inventions scissored your tight cunt open wide. your professor would get more enjoyment from watching you come undone around his toys than he would from having his own cock buried deep inside of you. he would definitely fuck his fist as another invention drilled into you, watching intently as your cunny spread wider to accommodate for its unnatural size.

professor dottore would have also dabbled with chemicals throughout his engineering career. he would know the ins and outs of certain elements, and would not be afraid to bring them to you. should you misbehave or think about snitching on him, for example, he would be sure to inject you with a concoction to ensure you remain docile. he wouldn't consider using them to ease the stretch you faced from his inventions, though he'd definitely enjoy using them to increase your sensitivity. what can i say, your professor loved to watch you squirm ! one of his favorite things to do was to slip you a pill, an aphrodisiac of his own creation, before class. he'd love watching your futile attempts to maintain focus on what he was teaching, even being as mean as to pick on you ! if there was a question, he would make sure you were the one to answer. even if there wasn't, he would still draw attention to you, asking why you seemed so distracted. if you were good for him, answering as he deemed correct, then he would reward you after class. otherwise, you would be subjected to an adequate punishment instead.

DILUC, professor of economics.

warnings: cockwarming, slight teasing, clit slapping, degradation mention, breeding / cumming inside, cervix kissing, diluc has a big dick.

diluc would be a difficult one to crack at first, perhaps it would require a student to drop an array of provocative hints in order for him to get the impression that they wanted to sleep with him. professor diluc would be concerned that his actions could result in his termination from the faculty. however, once you were sat on the opposite side of the desk in his office, accentuating your cleavage with a low cut shirt and exposing your squishy thighs with a short pencil skirt, a flip would switch in his head.

the man would be coy about it at first, inviting you to his side of the desk in order to better look at the exam paper he was trying to explain to you. he would catch a glimpse at your clothed heat as you bent down to read the paper. a blush spread across his cheeks at how forward you were being, eventually giving in and pulling you into his lap.

professor diluc is the kind of guy to force you to cockwarm him as he quizzed you on what you had been taught. get a question right? he'll nestle his thick cock deeper into your tight pussy, struggling to hold back his own groans as you squeezed him. get a question wrong? a calloused palm would slap your clit, degrading words falling from his lips as he couldn't help but feel how you enjoyed the friction. once your professor had finally succumbed to your advances, he did not hold back. the man would grow addicted to how your sweet cunt sucked him in, plowing into you at a vicious pace. he was well aware that he was larger than the average man, most definitely bigger than any other college boy that you had hooked up with. your body told him that every time you arched your back as his tip kissed your cervix. diluc loved to see you try to retain all of his cum that he dumped into you, watching as thick globs of his seed trailed down your pretty thighs and onto whatever surface he had fucked you on.

KAZUHA, professor of english.

warnings: kazu and reader are both horny for poetry and each other, overstimulation, cunnilingus.

every girl in your class seemed to have a crush on professor kazuha !! some would even take english just so that they could be in the same room to drool over him. you hadn't been aware of this initially, instead taking the class due to the college's stellar reputation as one of the best in the country. your professor admired your genuine interest for the material, the way you would appreciate the words of his own haikus rather than the way that everyone else's focus would hone in on the man reciting them.

your professor would ask you to stay behind after his lectures, giving you the opportunity to share and recite your own works with him. the two of you formed a... less than professional relationship as time grew on. you had just assumed that it was platonic - you're young, who are you to know the difference ? his haikus turned to sonnets, confessing his affections for an unknown woman. it had those girls gushing even more so, jealousy running amuck. once they turned bolder and you were still oblivious to his implications, he made a move on you after class. his relaxing voice and intoxicating warmth had you wrapped around his finger within mere moments, no matter how you repeatedly attempted to rationalize that he was your professor to yourself. each time you vocalized these thoughts to kazuha, he would only calm you with his extensive vocabulary and gentle kisses. one of his favorite things to do would be to eat you out as you sat on his desk, proving that his mouth was capable of more than just wooing you with his words. he would enjoy overstimulating you as you bit your lips to hold back moans. your actions betrayed you every time you told your professor that it was too much, your fingers tangling in his blonde locks. you pulled his face closer to your dripping cunny, squirming at how his pulsing tongue thrusted into your hole. the one on one writing sessions you had shared were long forgotten about, lengthy words being replaced by the sounds of soft whines and him toying with your pretty pussy.

SCARAMOUCHE, professor of astrophysics.

warnings: mean ! scaramouche, slight dubcon, blowjob, degradation, name calling, blackmail + threats, photos without consent, semi-public (messing around during meetings), implied marking, cumming inside / breeding, dumbification, edging.

scaramouche is the professor that everyone hates. he's mean, springing tests on his classes without warning. he would not hesitate to publicly berate a student should they have made the grave error of arriving to his class a few minutes late. you had made the mistake of correcting a mistake in one of his equations, raising your hand to interrupt his teaching. other students snickered as he sneered, wanting to scream at you for your stupidity... he was never wrong. that was until he reviewed it himself, only to be humiliated in front of all of his students. you truly meant no harm, only wishing to better your own learning. your professor instead took it as a personal insult, a hit to his considerably giant ego, calling you to stay behind as the your classmates filed into the hallways. the door would remain open as he pushed you to your knees, forcing you to stare up at him. the words your professor spat were so cruel, telling you how you were a good for nothing know it all and were not sat trembling in fear before him. he pulled out his already hardening cock, laughing at how you stared in shock. the man forced you to take all of him down your throat, wanting to remind you that this is all your smart mouth was good for.

professor scaramouche would make it clear that this was not to be a one time thing. your grades began falling, even though your level of work remained the same. it was his way of trapping you, wanting you to come crawling back to him and begging him to stop treating you like this. your whiny apologies as he stuffed your sloppy hole with his cock turned him on even more. you were never allowed to cum until he'd dumped at least one load into you, groaning about how you were so much more tolerable when he fucked you stupid. scaramouche was lucky that he had blackmail on the dean, for the amount of marks you left his office with gave away what the pair of you had been up to. he was shameless, really. if he had a meeting with another staff member or student in his office, sometimes he would shove you under his desk and out of sight. your face would be on the floor and your legs spread open for him, either for him to use your ass as a stress reliever or to play with your puckering hole while you tried to hold in your sweet sounds.

scaramouche loved to see your braindead expression as your cunny gushed for him, even pulling out his phone to take a couple of pictures to savor the moment. he most certainly wouldn't be above using them to blackmail you somewhere down the line, should he deem necessary. oh what a shame it would be for your friends and family to see how much of a whore you were for your teacher ! if you ever spoke back to him again, he would whisper in your ear to remind you of the photos. his threats struck fear into your heart, but the memories of him screwing you silly sent sparks straight to your cunt. he'd be sure to have his way with you after that lesson, edging you until you were crying. your professor would remind you of how stupid you really were, instead you were better suited to being his personal cumdump. your tight hole fluttered at his harsh words, which only prompted further degradation to fall from his lips. there was no affection in any of his thrusts, you were nothing more than a perfect little cocksleeve to him. how pathetic.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ masterlist .

⇢ ˗ˏˋ navigation .

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡ synopsis: after receiving a call from your former college professor, you agree to meet up with mr. morax for dinner. you know, for old time’s sake…

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡ cw: age gap, oral (f), masturbation (m), bathroom sex, sir kink, pussy job, hints of the ‘fucking your college professor’ trope smut written by a minor dni if uncomfortable

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡ a/n: dedicated to my former hot physics dilf who makes me cream every time i see him in the hallways xoxo 

“fuck, marry, kill…” 

hu tao puts on a pensive face, twirling a loose strand of hair that had escaped the confines of her pigtails as she thinks. 

“how about mr. ragnvindr, alberich, and kamisato?” 

you rotate your fork around the steaming cup of instant noodles in your hand. “i’m marrying mr. ragnvindr, for sure.” 

“what?” exclaims hu tao. “with those anger issues? that marriage would never last… no offense.” 

Keep reading

𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐎𝐔𝐒 | 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐔.

word count: 2.4k

notes: 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓, hand jobs, slight teasing, praising, mentions of insecurity, he might be slightly ooc don’t bring it up

notes: thank you ris for the consultations and for your genius i love you and your brain lemme have your kids

rindou is fuming, and you watch him, sitting still, calmly waiting for him to finish. if his attitude and his stubbornness aren’t enough, the short temper is added fuel to the flame, and truth be told, you should be tired. tired of his boldness as he glares at you from across the room.

rindou’s always been a little difficult, but you don’t hate it, you could never hate a thing about him. he’s got plenty he hates about himself—and adding to the pile just seems selfish. and he trusts you. he knows that at the end of the day, when he hangs up his attitude and stubbornness, when all that’s left is the lonely young man, who hasn’t changed much from the lonely young boy, you’ll be there to pick up the pieces.

but that doesn’t stop you from reminding him it’s you who gets to lay the pieces down.

“i put it right here,” he snaps, his lips pulled into a snarl as he all but hisses at you. and rindou has a habit of doing that. he gets angry at the things around him for the ones that go wrong. maybe he was just taught to do that, or maybe he taught himself, but you think you’ll teach him right.

“rindou, i don’t know where your file is,” you say calmly. he seethes more at your composure. why aren’t you mad? why won’t you fight back?

“well, it was right here. where else could it be,” he spits, and you frown at his tone.

“i didn’t touch anything, baby.” baby. he hates that you use that name with him even when he’s irritable, and it only makes him that much more aggravated. he wishes he could be sweet like you, it’s what you deserve. but he doesn’t know how else to get his thoughts across when his mind’s fogging with frustration. they come out brashly, and he doesn’t have control over the staggering words as they tumble past his lips.

you’re always so soft with him, always so patient. you understand that he doesn’t like the sheets being made a certain way, you know he hates certain scents of perfume fiercely, you don’t mind that he needs time alone on certain days, and you’re patient when he isn’t particularly fond of a certain individual—even though he’s got no real reason. it’s nurturing, you sit through it with him, guide him even. and rindou’s not had a lot of that growing up.

“i need that for my next meeting, it didn’t just walk off on its own,” he grits. “you probably put it somewhere while you were cleaning,” rindou accuses. you know he’s taking it out on you, the bad day he’s likely had, and you’re waiting for him to come to his senses on his own.

but you don’t mind giving a little push if it comes down to it.

“i didn’t do anything all day,” you insist. “just sat around waiting for you to come back.” rindou sighs heavily, clenching his jaw as he shakes his head.

“whatever,” he says with much more aggression than really necessary, turning away from you in a swift motion. “don’t touch my shit, you’ll just mess it up.”

and he’s not sure when you’d gotten up from the couch and found your way before him, or when you’d pressed him against the wall, but you did. and you’ve got him looking directly at you with wide eyes, unsure of what’s even happened in the last ten seconds.

he could surely push you off if he’d wanted, but he doesn’t. and he won’t. you know he won’t. because he needs this more than you do. he needs to be taken care of, put in his place, reminded of who he is and where he belongs. he never got that as a child, and maybe it’s time he leaves all that behind when he’s around you.

“rin, you can’t speak to me that way when you’re mad. it’s not my fault.” he squints his eyes at you, bitter at the way you speak to him like he actually is a child—like you know better and he doesn’t.

he doesn’t need you, not your honeyed words, not your sweet touches, not your stupid little sickeningly gentle smile. none of it, he tells himself.

except, when your hand travels to his face, cupping it and molding against the roundness of his cheek, it all flies out the window. because he does need you. at the end of the day, he needs you. he needs to be grounded by your presence, and he needs to be the one you need too.

“it’s not my fault you’re fucking sensitive—” his breath hitches in his throat as he cuts himself off, the words getting caught when your hand travels south to the waistband of his sweats, rubbing a thumb over his v-line.

“really? am i, rin? who’s sensitive right now,” you quip, a smug little grin on your face, and he hates the glint in your eye. he hates that it has him so excited, so aroused, and you haven’t even done anything yet.

“shut up,” he growls, but he can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut when your hand reaches past his boxers and wraps around his half-hard cock, squeezing gently. he lets out a strangled groan, chest heaving slightly as your thumb glides through his weeping slit, collecting the precum and smearing it over his length. and slowly, as you pull his sweats and boxers down, as you press your lips to his neck and suck gently on his sweet spot, rindou lets his anger melt.

he lets it leave his mind in his delirium to feel your hand around his pulsing cock, already aching to cum as he groans from the slow strokes you deliver. bucking his hip up, he hisses as you loosen your grip, shooting you a sharp glare.

“i’ll stop,” you warn. “don’t think you want that, do you?” growling, rindou wraps his hand tightly around your wrist as he stares at you with narrowed eyes, but you squeeze harshly around his length, and a strangled whine bubbles past his throat. in every step, he can always expect you to challenge him, and he doesn’t think he minds it as much as he should.

“fucking hell,” he chokes on a moan. “j-just do something.” he’s slowly cracking, you can see it in the way he’s panting now, in the way he’s slowly letting go of his grip and letting his senses be taken over by you. just a little bit more and he’s all yours. but then again, he always has been deep down. he just needs the pull to his push.

“that’s it,” you murmur, pressing sweet kisses along his jaw, and moving up to his cheeks. he lets out a shaky breath, moaning when your hand picks back up at the slow strokes. “just relax, rin. long day, huh?” finally, he nods.

“fuck,” he says through a breathy moan, head leaning back against the wall as your palm rubs circles over his swollen tip, his thighs quivering as he tries to keep himself standing. your hand never stops moving, never stops pumping his stiff member as the tip flushes an angry red, but it’s also not enough, and he needs more. “f-fuck y/n, more,” he groans.

you smile at the way his cheeks are flushed, the rosy hue dusting across his neck and even the tips of his ears as he pants harshly, cock aching as he leans forward and presses his forehead to yours.

he aches for the intimacy, he really does. you know he does, but rindou’s stuck in a constant push and pull with himself with how he’s meant to let his guard down. but this makes it a tad bit easier, he bears himself to you, letting you see him in a way no one else does as he falls apart slowly and surely.

“you should start saying please, rin,” you hum, smoothing back the damp hair that sticks to his forehead with a brush of your fingers. the tips of them leave lingering jolts on his warm skin, and he leans his face in closer to your hand, chasing your touch. “it’ll get you places.”

“stop dragging it out,” he scoffs, whimpering gently when your thumb runs through his slit. you let out a soft chuckle at the sound, and he flushes a deeper shade of crimson.

“wanna see you cum,” you whisper, and he digs his face into your neck, groaning in embarrassment at your words, even though his dick is standing hard in your hands, balls heavy and aching for release. “wanna see you look all pretty,” you press soft kisses to the shell of his ear, and his hands grip your waist tightly, whining when you finally give him a firmer grasp of your hand, stroking his fisted cock faster. his breaths are erratic, and he’s moaning freely now, eyes screwed shut as you chase him towards his impending orgasm.

“s-stop saying shit like that,” he tries to say firmly—he tries, and that’s all he’s really doing right now. he’s trying to hold onto his dignity, trying to keep his composure intact, trying not to cum so fast, and he’s trying to keep himself stern like before. but he’s failing miserably, and it’s the hot, blinding pleasure of your hand that has him in such a mess, so unlike his usual stoic self.

long gone is his snark, and his arrogance, and his refusal to admit he’s wrong as he’s choking on gasps into your neck, moans ending off higher in pitch as he nears his high.

“i love you,” you murmur, stroking through his locks delicately as he all but thrusts into your fist, chasing his orgasm desperately. and he’ll be the last to admit that those words leave him breathless, that there’s a slight wobble in his lips as he clutches you tighter, closer, nearer. he’d crawl into your skin and be one with you if he could, dig himself deeper into your heart so that you could never let him go.

and rindou’s always wondered what about him is so appealing, that you stay. you stay and you never leave and you always come right back to him no matter how harsh he shoves and how far he pushes you away. he wants to know, craves to see himself through your eyes, to catch a glimpse of what you find in him that you can’t in anyone else. why don’t you give up on him? even after all he puts you through?

he wonders if he’ll ever find his answer.

“y-yeah?” he whispers softly—and he’s cracked, the composure is crumbled, and he’s latching onto you, clinging onto your body desperately as he feels his cock twitch, just at the precipice of his high. “y-you love me? what’s to love?” he croaks.

“everything,” you reassure. “you’re good, you know. you don’t need to prove it to me. never to me, i already know.” the chaste kiss to his temple somehow feels more intimate than your hand wrapped tightly around his cock, and it’s enough to send him hurtling over the edge, crying out your name as he cums hard. thick ropes shoot from his tip in spurts, and he whines softly into your neck, digging further into the crook of it as you slowly stroke him through his orgasm.

“f-fuck, fuck, please.” he doesn’t know what he’s pleading for, but the words fall from his lips anyway, and when your free hand moves up and down his back in slow circles, soothing him through his high, he feels tears prick his eyes from the way you overwhelm all his senses. he feels like he breathes you in, and he’s almost scared he’s losing you when he breathes you out. “ngh—shit,” he says through a breathy moan. “f-feels good.”

“pretty boy,” you mumble sweetly. “you’re my pretty boy, you know. don’t have to be so harsh all the time.” and slowly, he bears more of himself to you, panting as he catches his breath, his cum sticky as it coats your hand. he almost wants to protest when you pry his face out of your neck, but then he meets your eyes, and something about the way they glow as they meet his purple irises makes him lean his forehead against yours, searching your gaze for any hints of lies at your previous statement.

and if he’d found any, he thinks he might’ve shattered, but you show none, and he can’t still his heart as it beats rapidly.

rindou wants so badly to see what you do, to see what makes you look at him so earth-shatteringly sweet.

“love you too,” he says after some time, so quiet, it’s like a confession—and he’s almost sure you missed it. but you catch it perfectly.

“don’t have to be so snarky,” you soothe, still rubbing his back slowly as he grips the edge of your shirt, fisting it tightly. “i’ll help you find the file, yeah? did you check the drawer at your desk?” he shakes his head slowly, and there’s almost a ghost of a pout curled on his lips. you peck them softly, and he chases them again when you pull away, kissing you needily, longer this time.

“forgot to check there,” he admits quietly.

“i’m willing to bet good money it’s there,” you chuckle gently, and he avoids your gaze. you’re so sweet to him, so good, so gentle, so determined to take care of him. you care enough to push him right back into place, and he doesn’t think he deserves it, but he’ll be damned if he ever lets it slip past his fingers.

“guess it slipped my mind,” he huffs softly, gripping your hips tighter and pulling you closer—and you know it’s his way of admitting that he’s wrong, that it’s his way of asking you to stay.

please stay, he wants to ask you, but he doesn’t think he needs to.

and rindou revels in the soft chuckle you give him, exhaling slowly when you cup his cheek with your good hand and rub a thumb over the smooth skin, easing his conscience in a way only you can.

“you’re incredibly lucky i love you,” you say playfully, but he knows you’re right. he’s so damn lucky you love him.

“i love you too,” he breathes. “i love you.”

love confessions

pairing — haitani rindou x f!reader

summary — in which sanzu and ran have to deal with rindou, his relationship problems, and alcohol

note — spoilers, alcohol, intoxication. likes and reblogs are always appreciated

“So, like, what happened?” Sanzu questioned curiously as he watched the younger Haitani finish his eighth liquor glass of the night, the loud music and bright neon lights of the nightclub only further adding to his intoxicated and volatile state.

After all, for a married man like Rindou, he should’ve been at home with you, his wife, not drinking himself to death in one of Roppongi’s famed nightclubs at one in the morning. Yet here he was, looking pathetic as he poured himself more alcohol in a useless attempt to forget about how much he missed you. It was a truly pathetic sight, one that brought Sanzu much happiness and great sadistic joy.

“It’s stupid,” Rindou proclaimed in annoyance, his gaze unfocused as he leaned back in his seat with a sigh. “She got angry at me for getting too close to Reina again. It’s not my fault I had to look over Reina’s shoulder to read the damn report. Everyone knows I have terrible eyesight!”

“Reina?” Sanzu repeated with a now amused, almost mocking smirk. He knew that you and Rindou had gotten into a fight today, but he didn’t know that it involved your husband’s hot secretary. “You mean the same Reina that’s been trying to sleep with you ever since she started working for us? That Reina? Yikes. No wonder your wife’s not talking to you.”

Keep reading