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temptress-writes · 9 months ago

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📜Roll Call

A/N: my favourite, moody professor. feral. he's actually such a twat.

Content Warnings: coarse language

Sexual Content: Degradation, spitting, light bondage, spanking, slapping, age gap (10 years)

Word Count: 21.5k

Now, sit straight for Professor Styles.

***

Oxford University, 1992.

“Are you actually going to put the effort into my class or do I have to get you a tutor?”

It wasn’t what she was hoping for after handing in an assignment. She fought back the hot tears that sprung into her eyes and hoped he didn’t see how wet they were. She was exhausted, overworked to the bone trying to balance her studies and a part-time job.

He’d handed back the papers at the end of his class, and not long after escaped to his office down the hall. She’d chased after him, fumbling to keep up with him while her mind was jumbled over the failed grade. She’d done plenty of assignments with him and he’d passed every single one.

“I… I don’t understand. I studied the material—“

“Well, clearly you didn’t study it enough. The years are all mixed up. If you want to be the historian that you say you do, that usually comes with not mixing up dates. I mean,” he held the paper in front of him, reciting the words she’d written. “Julius Caesar was assassinated in March, 43 BC. Incorrect. He was assassinated in March, 44 BC. You should know this, it’s basic stuff.”

“I’m sorry, I swear it was a simple mistake—“

“Simple mistakes will cost you your grade. In fact, it has.”

Her heart dropped. “Is there anything I can do? I can fact-check and write it all over again. Please. I want to pass this paper. I—I need to pass.”

He was always this mean. This… hurtful. He had no leniency towards so much as a falsely placed comma, and she could see her incorrect information pained him deeply. He was right. It was basic stuff, and internally she knew it. However, she’d been slammed with studying and had simply made a mistake.

But he had no patience, no care if anyone in his class was overwhelmed with what he pushed onto them. He’d been given the same load when he himself was studying. In his view, being pushed to the brink was what made him great at what he did. So, he showed his students the same respect as his professors once had.

“What makes you think I have the time to give you special treatment, Violet? I have enough papers to grade as is, adding yours to the pile all because you made a mistake will only set me back.”

“It’s one paper.” She begged, near on in tears again. She eyed the plaque that had his name engraved in the gold, avoiding his eyes.

Leaning back in his chair, he eyed her through his wide-framed glasses. He tapped his fingers against his thighs, clad in soft beige plaid pants. Her eyes fluttered towards his sweater, the striped shirt underneath. She lost herself in the pattern as he mulled in his thoughts.

“I want it on my desk tomorrow morning by nine o’clock.”

She could have jumped at the relief she felt. “Thank you, sir.”

“Just this once. I won’t be so easy on you if it happens again.”

“It won’t happen again.” She grinned, grabbing the paper from his outstretched hand.

"Since you're rewriting it—do you want my honest opinion?"

"Of course." She whispered, always one to accept constructive criticism. She knew he wouldn't hold back and she mentally braced herself.

"I was bored reading your paper."

She gulped, blinking in surprise but he continued, not concerned about hurting her feelings. That wasn’t what he was there for—to teach her.

"I expected more from you, Violet. To be frank, I’m disappointed. There was no depth to it. No excitement. You did the very bare minimum. You gave me a bunch of facts, with some of the dates mixed around. What’s more, is that nothing about this piece made me want to read it. Tell me, what makes history so exciting?"

"Uh, I guess learning about—"

"The stories. The stories make history so exciting. Stories of the people, their daily lives, and the fight for survival and victory. History would be nothing without the stories it tells."

"Yeah, I understand, now. You're right."

"Of course I’m right. Retelling history has to be gripping. Write it again and pull me in."

His eyes scanned over his pager, alerting him that a staff meeting was about to commence. He stretched out his neck, grabbing his folder and eyeing her as he stood.

He hated the way his eyes observed her frame. Soft corduroy pants, a graphic t-shirt of a band he had never heard of. Her hair was in a bouncy ponytail, half splayed over her shoulder as she twirled a lock between her fingers.

What he didn’t hate was how she feared him. Her eyes were wide with intimation as she stared at him. She was clearly so desperate to please him, not wanting to disappoint him or let him down.

She wanted to do this paper for him as much as she did for her grades. That’s why his tactic was to be cruel. To keep her at arm’s length, but also to keep his mind at bay from wandering into risky territory.

"Is there anything else?"

"Oh, that's all—"

"Great. I have somewhere to be."

The expectant look he gave her threw her off, but she very quickly gathered his meaning. She adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder and gave him a soft smile, hoping to lessen his harsh expression, yet all to no avail. His expression remained the same. She turned to leave, barely getting through the threshold before his voice reached out.

“Nine o’clock, Violet.”

“Yes, professor.”

She left his office, winding her way through campus, smiling at her classmates as she passed them. Oxford University. Rich with history and success. Abundant with opportunities fit for her dreams. It knew no bounds of imagination, with its old and infamous buildings and all the tales held within them.

There was something about history that made her feel alive. Reliving the past through depictions, art, studies, and discoveries. It was what drove her.

So when she’d landed her dream Ancient History class, taught by a very highly adored historian, Harry Styles, she knew that she had a lot to prove.

She raced back to her flat after a stop at the supermarket for brainfood and energy drinks. She got stuck in, completely starting again, double and triple-checking her facts to be sure.

Her Walkman kept her company, and she cycled through her favourite CDs. She even went above and beyond, adding small details to her work that weren’t overly relevant but she knew Professor Styles would enjoy reading.

As grumpy as he was, she wouldn’t deny that she had a soft spot for him. For his focused gaze, his deep voice as he stood before the class and taught, and how his dimples flexed when he was talking or hiding his irritation.

Oftentimes, she’d allow herself to admire him. To see him as a simple man. Rich in thought and graceful in the way he so confidently carried himself. He was effortlessly smart and passionate. Young but full of experience, which she found impressive amongst the older faculty.

In his early thirties, it was remarkable how far his career had soared already.

He was gorgeous. Poised and proper, with inklings of something more unhinged that she could sometimes spy through his carefully placed mask.

But then she’d shake her head and chastise herself for thinking such thoughts about someone so above her.

He was known to be a sucker for details and personality. He hated textbook answers, even though his whole career and teachings relied purely on facts. So, she spent extra time being a little more pedantic than usual.

She wanted to impress him. He was one of the most successful historians of his impressively ripe age of thirty-two. She’d never wanted to let him down and she had to prove to him that she had what it took to be in his class and be worthy of his teachings. It was what motivated her to piston through her assignment and perfect it.

She was going over her paper, adding some final flares when her flatmate knocked on her door.

“Vi, you’ve been working on that for hours.”

“I know,” she wrote furiously, so hyper-focused on the spread of papers and books in front of her, “it’s due tomorrow.”

“You need a break, come get a drink with us.”

Violet was that person that worked herself to the bone to maintain her grades. She was a people pleaser, and that trait stretched to her professors. She clung to every word they said and took every assignment seriously.

“Due tomorrow, Alice.” She repeated, barely blinking as she wrote and mouthed the words out to herself.

“Please take a break before you lose your mind.” Alice could sense her friend falling into that mindset where she neglected everything aside from whatever assignment was due.

Violet sighed, pausing her work and turning to face her. “Who’s we?”

She soon found herself dressed in an attire that completely contrasted her university jumper and sweat pants. A tiny green dress, and a little makeup applied to her tired face to make it seem as if she were actually getting any appropriate amount of sleep.

They made their way to the local bar they often frequented, meeting their group of friends who had already started on the drinks. It was then that she realised was extremely overworked and tired.

Her study load was never-ending, piling on top of her until she was suffocating. She had to take some time for herself tonight or she’d go crazy. Her mind was constantly whirring with assignments and tests and studying.

Her paper was mostly done. She’d have a few drinks and then head home to finish it off. It was only nine o’clock, and she figured an hour or two wouldn’t hurt.

By ten o’clock, she was feeling lighter. She stayed true to her word, only having two drinks before cutting herself off. She knew she’d have to leave sooner rather than later, but her friends were renewing the energy she had been lacking. She couldn’t leave the source of such liveliness.

There was one guy in the group who had been pining after her all year. They shared a few classes together, including Ancient History with Professor Styles. He had a bright smile and a sense of humour that she enjoyed.

“Hey, Vi.”

“Hi, Charlie, how are you?”

“I’m good, yourself?”

“Not bad.”

“Glad to hear it.” He smiled. “Can I get you a drink?”

He made her laugh all night, stuck to her side to enjoy her smile up close. They flirted, sending each other sultry gazes and warm, suggestive touches.

She couldn’t even deny that she wished it was someone else she’d rather be with tonight. A certain professor who wore glasses, sweaters, and displeased frowns. Perhaps that was why she threw herself head first into Charlie, wanting to forget about her sinful desires.

She felt warm and gooey, needing something to focus on other than that damn paper and the professor who was expecting it.

So, when he led her down the hallway, kissing her lips and her neck, she didn’t hesitate to get lost in him.

Too lost to see her professor sitting at the bar watching as she pulled Charlie into a supply closet.

“I have to say, Miss Walters. I didn’t think you’d be able to do it.”

She huffed out a breath at his expression. It was like he was almost smug about it. About her having to rewrite a whole paper, work that would take weeks crammed into one night.

He was being truthful. The paper would have been difficult to complete in one night, he’d known as much when he told her that he wanted it the next morning. It was a test.

He didn’t want to be played around by his students. He was tough on them for a reason, and barely ever handed out second chances as he had done with her.

So, to know that she had been out last night when she should have been at home was an insult. She’d fluttered her eyelashes and taken advantage of the one sliver of good nature he had in him. And here she was, a pleased smile on her face with her paper before his very eyes.

She was wearing makeup as if to hide how tired she was. It wasn't because she had stayed up all night writing his paper, but he already knew that. He looked at the assignment dubiously, doubting its contents.

“Well, I did it. Correct dates and everything.”

“It’s longer.” He said, flipping through the pages and noticing that there were a few additional ones compared to the initial few she had handed in.

She absorbed her surroundings, his office was deep woods and dim lighting. His desk was large and cluttered with books and assignments to grade, and the room was framed with bookshelves, awards, diplomas, and expensive-looking knick

knacks.

“I took your advice and made it more exciting.”

He wanted to reprimand her. Tell her that adding extra fluff didn’t equal excitement or any weight to her assignment. But he swallowed his sour mood and nodded, placing the paper flat on the desk and leaning back in his chair.

His outfit was darker than his usual palette and style of light colours and unique sweaters. Instead, he donned a black shirt, a black suit jacket thrown over the top with charcoal pants. She could tell that he was in a bad mood, somehow even more irate than usual.

“I’ll review it over the weekend.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but then snapped it shut. She very clearly wanted to say something and he raised a brow in encouragement.

“Thank you,” she said. “For the second chance. I hope you enjoy it.”

Enjoy it? He’d never had a student wish that he enjoyed something they handed in. They simply wanted to meet the criteria and pass.

She turned to leave, feeling overwhelmed by his scrutinising gaze. She’d handed in the assignment, and had a bit of time to cram in some study before her first class of the day, which just so happened to be with the grumpy professor.

"Violet."

"Yes?"

He tapped his neck, eyeing hers. "I want that covered before you come to my class."

Her cheeks flushed with heat, her hand coming up to cover the hickey on her neck. She thought she'd done a good enough job with her concealer this morning, but apparently not.

She didn't even have the nerve to reply before she left the room, utterly mortified.

He stared after her, wondering if he'd embarrassed her. Probably. He disregarded her feelings, viewing the mark on her neck as inappropriate. He wasn't sure why the hickey bothered him so much.

Perhaps it was because she'd clearly had a late night last night, and it wasn't with the company of his teachings. He watched her take that man into that supply closet and the evidence of that was staring him in the face.

He didn’t want to look at that fucking hickey on her neck because then he knew he’d have to face the reality of the fact that he was jealous.

Jealous of one of his other students putting his hands and mouth on her. His student in that tiny green dress, cheeks flushed with arousal and drink. He imagined it. How she'd taste on his tongue. The sounds she'd make. The way she felt.

He had felt pathetic about the whole thing, sitting at the bar all alone and sulking. He’d polished off his drink at the bar after watching it happen. He’d just as quickly gone to his cold and empty home to wallow with a bottle of tequila and some Aerosmith.

Fuck. He couldn’t think about this. About her soft thighs in her tiny skirt and her bouncy ponytail. Or the way she called him professor. It wasn’t right and he felt sick about it.

He checked his pager, seeing it blank and sighing. He needed something to do so he couldn’t keep thinking about her. And then she’d be staring at him during his class, her eyes wide and wandering.

Almost panicked about the prospect of being near her again, he picked up her paper and began reading it to distract himself.

Following a strenuous battle with her concealer and the sizeable hickey on her neck, Violet entered Professor Styles’ classroom. It was mostly covered, there wasn’t a lot she could do in the way of hiding it completely. However, in the back of her mind, she was perplexed that he found it his place to even say anything.

Surely he just wanted to mortify her. He had been a student once, he knew the means of getting lost in dark hallways with another warm and desperate body.

She spotted Charlie sitting in the center of the seats and he waved her over. She smiled, shaking her head. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to him just yet, especially considering he was the cause of her marked neck.

She took her usual spot up front, always wanting to bathe in the professor’s teachings, and found herself lost if she was stuck in the middle of the seats.

Professor Styles wasn’t in class yet, and she took the time to prepare her notes in an organised spread on the desk in front of her. She didn’t even notice him silently enter, setting up at his desk with a look of disinterest.

Her body felt heated. Not the warm embarrassment of him pointing out her hickey, but because his gaze was on hers as he set down his satchel. She held his eyes, right until he looked away to retrieve the folders that held the material he needed for the class.

Decidedly ready, he stood at the center of his territory up front, his suit jacket parting as he slid his hands into his pockets. He eyed the class through his glasses, noting that no one had realised he’d entered the room yet. Except for her.

He sighed, wrinkling his nose before looking down at his oxfords. He cleared his throat, somehow garnering everyone’s attention in a split second. He leaned back against his desk.

“As you’re aware, I’m obligated to drag you on a class trip abroad in the coming weeks. I’ve heard your suggestions as you’ve not so subtly given them to me.” He eyed the mouthy students in question. “However, the board and I have discussed it and we’ve come to a decision.”

Students started chattering loudly, and Violet sent a friendly smile to her friend next to her but otherwise kept her attention on Professor Styles.

“Quiet, or you’ll be staying behind while I go on holiday by myself!”

His demand was heard loud and clear, and everyone became tight-lipped and watched him. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, already dreading the idea of this trip.

The university board had been grilling him about it, and he’d been pressured into making a decision that pleased them with ridiculously limited time to sort it out.

“Pompeii.” He said simply, letting it sink in for his students.

Violet felt a rush of excitement. Pompeii—preserved in Naples, Italy, was rich with history and had been on her bucket list for as long as she could remember.

It was a monumental part of history, and she could not wait to see it in its glory and stand where devastation rocked an ancient city so long ago.

The class talked loudly, bursting and bubbling with enthusiasm. Professor Styles remained unphased by it all, waiting until the chatter had died down before he spoke again.

“We’ll be staying in Naples, however, the focus of our trip will be Pompeii. This will be your final paper and will be half your grade. This isn’t a holiday or a time to slack off. You’re here in this room for a reason, that applies to this trip as well. Think about the history there. The people, the politics, the daily life. The power of nature and the terror that it entices.” He took a slow breath, as if bored or tired. Perhaps both. “It wasn’t my first choice, naturally. But seeing as it is one of the most famous natural disasters in ancient history, the board saw it fit to touch on, considering it differs from any other material we’ve studied so far.”

“Can’t we go to Paris instead, Professor Styles?” One of the girls at the back of the glass giggled. It was clear that the only reason she took this class was for someone nice to look at. “It’s the city of love.”

“Love?” He laughed but it was void of humour. “If you want love, you’re in the wrong place. Maybe if you spent less time daydreaming, and more time paying attention, you wouldn’t be failing my class.”

Violet laughed under her breath, doodling in her notebook. His eyes went to her at the sound, wondering if she found the girl's suggestion funny or his response.

She looked up at him, brushing her hair over her shoulder. He clenched his jaw and looked away, locating the documents that contained everything regarding the trip.

He handed piles to the desks in the front row, telling them to take one and pass it back. He stopped before her, placing the papers in her waiting hands and staring at her with an unreadable expression.

“See me after class.”

“Me?”

His voice was low and deep. “Yes, you.”

She was perplexed. See him after class for what? He said that he’d go over her paper during the weekend, so she doubted it would be about that.

Maybe he wanted to torment her about her neck some more. Really rub in the embarrassment and taunt her for it.

It was hard to focus during the whole class. She jotted down notes every now and again, but her mind was honed in on him. Even more so than usual. The authority in his tone as he told her to cover her neck, his confident stance, and the way his lips caressed words.

He rambled on about the trip, what to expect, and in turn what he was expecting from them. He adjusted his glasses, searching the student's expressions and finding her eyes. He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek before looking back at his notes.

By the time class had ended, she had written down things she wasn’t paying attention to. She’d been paying attention to him. Only him. And she couldn’t even fool herself into her fascination with him strictly existing just because of his teachings. It was far past that now.

She gathered her things, the room emptying of students. She stood, her gaze falling to him, stood behind his desk organising his folders.

She approached his desk, standing before it. She noticed that his jaw clenched, looking up at her from the frame of his glasses and raising his brows.

"You wanted to see me?"

“I did.”

She waited as he righted his desk, ensuring everything was in order before he finally regarded her.

“Your paper. I want to talk to you about it.”

Her stomach dropped. “The paper I just handed in?”

What would he have to say about it considering it had only been mere hours since he’d received it? She felt a flash of irritation, wondering if she’d ever be able to please this man.

“I don’t have time this week, so it’ll have to be next Monday. You’re my last class so I’ll be able to give you all of my attention.”

She felt warm at his words. At the promise of having his full attention, her body was alive with need and desire. His eyes were so intense, deep, and thick with thoughts she could see the complexity of.

But as the foggy haze of her absurd fantasies cleared, she frowned. Monday? It was Thursday now. Why didn’t he bring this up closer to the time? Did he just want her to stew in her worry until Monday?

Surely he couldn’t have read her paper already. Maybe he’d read the first paragraph only to crumble it up and lob it into his trashcan.

“Is it that bad?”

He shot her a look that she couldn’t decipher. “Monday, Violet.”

As she left the classroom, completely vexed and anxious, Charlie caught up with her.

“He’s a real piece of work, isn’t he?”

“Who?” She felt like she was barely there as she navigated the old building toward her next class.

“Styles. I mean, that paper we just did, for example. He ignores all of my hard work and focuses on the shit I’m doing wrong.”

Violet shrugged, “I mean, isn’t that what makes him a great professor? He points out what you need to improve on to do better.”

“Whatever. I feel like there’s no winning with him. At least we have this trip. You and I can ditch the group and do our own sightseeing.”

She didn’t miss the way his eyes sparkled at his suggestion. And maybe if she wasn’t so hung up on someone she had no business being hung up on, she’d reciprocate Charlie’s enthusiasm.

Monday. She’d be seeing her favourite, constantly disgruntled professor on Monday.

It wasn’t hard to keep herself distracted until then. She attended her classes, her study load growing as each one passed. Her flatmate held a party on Saturday night, in which she’d spent most of it pressed up against Charlie, however avoiding his advances of something more.

He was sweet and funny but he wasn’t what she wanted and she was just a fuck to him. She felt bad that she’d even let that night happen. She’d just needed to feel something, something that wasn’t the ever-pressing crush she had on her professor.

She was wrecked with intolerable thoughts about her assignment. Was he going to fail her again? Tell that she wasn’t cut out for his class that she’d battled so hard to get into?

By the time Monday came around, she was a nervous wreck. She settled herself into a private nook in the library, her Walkman on hand and her collection of her favourite CDs.

She read every single piece about Pompeii that she could find. She wanted to be even more prepared for the trip, and have a better understanding of what it might entail.

And maybe having more knowledge of it would impress her professor.

Her last class on Monday was with him. As she entered and took her usual seat, he was setting up his material, dressed in plaid pants and a cozy looking sweater.

He used the knuckle of his pointer finger to adjust his glasses and flipped a pen in his other hand, staring over his class agenda.

She just loved watching him. There was something in his mannerisms that was so fascinating. He was mesmerising in the way he carried himself. From his large hands, which she always stared at, to his ever-expressive eyes.

The first time she’d spotted the cross tattooed on his hand, she had to go into the bathroom after class and slip her hand between her legs to quell the dampness there.

With a deep sigh, he focused on the class and ran a hand through his curls, though they fell back into the middle parting as always.

He seemed even more put off today. He spent most of his time voicing more details about the trip to Naples and running through multiple checklists before handing them out.

Where he would usually throw her a glance, he didn’t even look at her today. Not once. His seemingly permanent frown was set deeper.

Instead of his usual drabble, he had some poor soul at the front of the class read out the daily lives of those who lived in Pompeii before its demise.

She jotted down notes, but her eyes kept flickering to where he sat at his desk, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed as if he were being read a lullaby.

As class came to a close, he stood, telling everyone to start preparing for the trip.

“Please refer to the list I handed out, and if you have any questions…” He twisted his lips, clasping his ringed fingers together. “Don’t.”

Her nerves were running haywire, sending electric currents through every part of her body as she stood with her bag and began to approach his desk. He was busying himself with the sprawl of clutter on the expanse of the aged wood.

She stood before it, and he looked up briefly before gathering a stack of papers and sliding them carefully into his satchel.

"Not here." His voice was so low that she felt it swirl in her ears like a thick, dreamy fog.

She took a deep breath and nodded, feeling intimidated to be alone with him again. Until a student approached the desk and asked for his aid on a project, and all she could do was stand there and wait.

"I just don't know how to make the connection." The student said.

He leaned over, staring at the paper. He nodded and then looked at Violet, "go and wait in my office. I'll only be a moment."

She felt her heart drop to her stomach at the authority in his tone. He looked at her for a second before focusing on the student who needed his help.

She tried to brush off her nerves as she arrived at his office and sat in the chair in front of his desk. She had no idea what was about to happen, but since it was regarding her assignment, she was beside herself with anxiety.

He stepped into his office with a sigh, running his hands along his thighs before taking a seat. He sifted through the drawer in his desk, taking out her assignment and reading over it.

“I’ve read your paper.” His voice was void of any emotion and it made her feel uneasy.

She wasn’t sure what to say, so she picked at the hem of her dress and avoided his eyes. He held up her assignment and stared at it.

“Violet… this is one of the best things a student has ever handed in to me.”

She took in a sharp breath, looking at him with wide eyes. She almost didn’t want to believe him. Or what was more believable was that he’d be jesting and then fail her. This wasn’t like the usual grumpy professor that she knew and she didn’t know what to make of it.

“I—Thank you, professor.”

“I could tell that it had potential when you handed it in. I’ve written some notes for you, but I wanted to go through them with you now.”

This was unheard of. He graded papers, jotted down brief notes behind his reasoning, and moved on. But this… this was beyond anything he’d ever done.

He was known for being insufferably unfair to his students. Yet he’d given her a second chance, and was now praising her work and wanted to express why.

“Okay.” She nodded, adjusting in her seat and trying to calm down her racing heart.

“Overall, it’s a well-thought-out paper. You have complete control of each point made and where your sources come from without sounding too recited. There are facts here, and you’ve shown how the influence that ancient Rome had in its prime is perceived nowadays… impressively. You’ve portrayed its people and politics really well.”

“Thank you.” She was struggling to believe this was actually happening.

“This is why I made you redo it. What you initially handed in was bland. But this is… you. Your authentic self and thoughts.” He gestured to the paper. “You’re passionate, and I can feel that when I read it. You’ve taken every aspect of what makes ancient history so fascinating and made it your own.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious right now.”

There was a flash of emotion across his face, his dimple appearing ever so slightly with a quirk of his lips. “Take my praise. I don’t give it often.”

“Wow, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His tone was suddenly warm, and his gaze brushed her neck for a second before finding her eyes once more.

“Professional opinion aside,” she toyed with the question on her tongue, feeling overwhelmed, “did you enjoy it?”

There it was again. Her question made his brow furrow in thought. He rarely enjoyed reading his student's work. Oftentimes, he was too preoccupied doing his job to feel any sense of enjoyment.

Why was it so important to her that he enjoyed it? He’d praised her work, and she wanted to know if he relished in reading it.

No one was as surprised as him when he found himself nodding slowly. “I did, actually. I like that it kept me intrigued and that I could sense how deeply you feel for the past.”

She wasn’t in his class for the wrong reasons, like he could see a lot of his students were. Some weren’t interested in anything past staring at him for an hour and then bullshitting their way through every paper they had to write. But she had a reason to be there, a drive to explore the past.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

Her expression was so burning and focused on him that he felt it in his gut. He remembered how she looked in that guy's arms and he swallowed, wondering if she would be just as soft in his.

He cleared his throat, shaking off the fog of her. She crossed one leg over the other and he blinked at the sight of more skin exposed under that sweet little dress she was in.

She released a breath as he stood, relieved that this whole interaction was one of positivity. She was elated that he had enjoyed her work, and moreover was elated that he had praised her as he did.

But as he stood, he rounded his desk and went behind her before he closed the door to his office.

She felt a wave of adrenaline wash over her, being alone with him. She questioned if he was even allowed to close the door, but she didn’t want to stop it from happening.

She watched as he walked in front of her, leaning back against his desk with his arms crossed.

“Why history?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, everyone has a reason for their majors. Whether you’re in it for archiving, research, or curating, you’ve got a reason for choosing history. My question is why.”

She straightened under his scrutinising gaze. He adjusted his glasses before his hands rested back on the desk, curling around the lip of it. She stared at his rings, mesmerised.

“I find it fascinating to observe how humanity has changed, to see how we’ve improved and what we still need to work on. I like studying the past, preserving the stories, the art, the structures they left for us to see their legacy.”

He was floored, although his expression remained a trained unreadable one. To meet someone with these values wasn’t uncommon. However, she had a way with words that he adored.

Like every aspect of his own passion was laid out on her tongue and given back to him in a gentle vocal caress.

“So, you’re just as intrigued by their way of life as well as learning from their mistakes?”

“In fewer words, yes.”

“You’re in it for the right reasons.”

“Are there any wrong reasons?” She frowned.

“Greed.” He said simply, not giving any clarification.

“Why do you teach?”

He tilted his head, his hands smoothing down his strong thighs. “I have a lot of experience in the field, as you may know. I wanted to extend that knowledge to people with the kind of drive I admire. The lust for research and preserving history. I’m good at it, and I have a lot to give you so that you can be just as good.”

His choice of words turned her mouth dry. I have a lot to give you. She knew he meant a lot of his wisdom and knowledge, but his eyes were sparkling with something she couldn’t decipher.

“I love your class.”

“Is that so? Is that why you asked if I enjoyed your paper?”

“Yes.”

He pursed his lips. “Are you trying to impress me?”

She smiled. “I don’t see anything wrong with that. I like the assignments you give us and the way you teach. It’s informative and exciting at the same time.”

“I like that,” he said, mulling deep in his thoughts, “it’s a nice change. To have someone care about their studies as opposed to struggle through them.”

“Oh, the struggle is still there.” She laughed and she spied a hint of a smile teasing his lips before he could disguise it.

He took a step forward and her eyes followed as he gauged how close he wanted to get. She gripped the arms of the chair as he stood in front of her, a jeweled hand reaching out to brush a few strands of her hair away from her face.

She hoped he couldn’t tell how hard she was shaking. Their eyes didn’t leave one another as his fingers brushed softly down, moving her hair away from her shoulder so he could look at her neck before he retracted all touch completely.

“You covered it.” He mumbled, his voice so low that she thought she imagined it.

“I did.”

“Good gi—“ He cleared his throat loudly. “Good. It’s not professional.”

Her brows raised at his almost slip up. She wondered if he was going to say exactly what she thought he was. And she almost begged him to call her that. Just once. Just so that she could go home and think about it in the shower, alone with nothing but the memory of him.

He leaned against his desk again, his gaze searing. She couldn’t breathe and pressed her thighs together to dull the ache his touch had left.

“Do you want to impress me, Violet?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I’m going to give you some extra work to do for me.”

For me. Her eyes fluttered. “You are?”

“I am.” His voice was slow, dreamy. “For my enjoyment, and your benefit.”

This, he thought, is where he should stop. He could feel the vapour of arousal lick at him in warm swirls. The way she was looking at him had him near crumbling. So innocent and intrigued by the prospect of impressing him. He wanted to reach out and touch her again, but he wasn’t sure if he could stop himself again. From going too far.

“My benefit?”

“Yes. I’ll reward you, of course.”

“What kind of reward?”

“Whatever the teacher’s pet wants.”

Her entire body became warm and gooey, though her nerves did not settle. Instead, they amplified the longer he simply stared at her, unwavering.

“What does this extra work entail, Professor?”

He didn’t smile—although he wanted to, and straightened. He rounded his desk, producing a small stack of papers, the top one decorated with his sprawl. He walked back over, handing it to her.

He looked her in the eye, his face serious. “Only do what you want to do. Extra work and rewards. Do you understand?”

“Okay.” She said simply, feeling overwhelmed and heated. As if he had read her mind, viewed her deepest, darkest fantasy of being his pet and making it a reality. Her mind was buzzing with what extra work he’d have her doing.

“There are only a few things there.” He nodded to the papers. “Some extra assignments if you can do them as well as this one. Also, some preparation for the class trip if you’re up for it.”

She scanned through the list, seeing the assignment topics from subjects he’d vaguely taught them about. She felt a twinge of excitement at the idea of doing more for him.

“And my reward…?”

His lips twitched like he was amused. “Extra credit, of course.”

She felt a pang of disappointment. But then what else was he meant to offer her? She wasn’t about to turn town extra credit or the chance to impress him. She was already on his radar as someone he could count on. The thought made her all giddy and warm inside.

“I’m very grateful, professor.”

“You have potential. As you finish each one, come and see me.”

“Thank you, I will.” She nodded. She’d try her absolute hardest to complete them, and as he said, only the ones she wanted to. She eyed the list again.

He stepped forward once more, and she braced herself for the contact again. She was still spiraling from when he touched her. Her cheek still tingled from his fingers and she felt desperate to have that feeling renewed.

But then someone knocked on the door once before entering. “Hey, Harry, I—oh. Hello.”

Another faculty member she recognised from the economics department. Her cheeks flushed as he eyed her before looking at the grumpy professor in front of her.

Harry. She’d always known his name, but hearing someone actually call him by his first name made him seem more… real. Less like a history robot and more like the man she fantasised about.

“Forgive me.” He cringed, “I didn’t know you had company.”

“That’s generally why you knock.” Professor Styles grumbled, however checking his watch with a sigh.

“I did—"

“Get started on those, Miss Walters. I’ll check in with you in a few days.”

Blushing, she stood and ducked her head, leaving the room hastily. The list was crumpled in her fist as she made her way home. Alice was ready to ask her about her day, and they quickly got distracted watching reruns of some old sitcom. But the list he’d given her stayed on the forefront of her mind.

And as the week dragged on, she made her way through the few assignments he’d given her. They weren’t full-length assignments and differed heavily from the kind he handed out to the whole class, as he’d stated. She found them quite easy, the basis of them fitted her strengths.

Had he tailored these to her? Had he enjoyed her work so much that he wanted more? It was like he’d hand-picked his favourite topics they’d briefly covered in class and was now asking her to do what she pleased with them.

She spent all of her time between classes in the huge library. It was undoubtedly her favourite section of Oxford, and she spent many hours getting lost in the ornate building, the old books, and the history they shared.

She sat at one of the aged desks, a sprawl of books in front of her as she finished up her second extra assignment. She took on his advice. She double-checked her facts, and added drabble that made the paper more exciting and gripping to the reader. Him.

She’d even gotten a head start on the third assignment he’d given her. Although she knew she’d have to spend more time locating sources for the topic, she figured it would look good if he saw that she’d started it. All she wanted was to impress him. To prove herself. She knew she had the talent, and he was fully appreciating it.

As her day wrapped up, she found herself swirling through the halls towards his office, a completed assignment in hand. Considering their class trip was only in a matter of days, she figured he’d be too busy to see her.

She approached the oak door and knocked, hearing his voice on the other side telling her to come in.

She opened the door, and his eyes fell on her immediately. On her pretty yellow dress and the hem that fell to the middle of her thighs. Her hair was in its usual ponytail held together with a pale blue scrunchie. He liked watching it swish through the air as she walked.

“Hi,” she said softly, while his expression was hard. “I finished another assignment. Do you have time?”

Technically? No. He had a pressing amount of things to grade. But the hope on her face and the way she looked so fucking pretty made it impossible for him to turn her away.

He moved his work aside, clearing his mind so that she was the only thing on it. “Take a seat.”

She took a deep breath and entered the room fully, leaving the door open which was a detail he didn’t miss. She placed the assignment in his hand and he felt the urge to read it immediately. To be wrapped up in her thoughts.

“Didn’t take you long, did it?” His voice rolled through her ears like a steady stream tumbling over smooth rocks.

“I felt inspired.”

“By what?” He tilted his head.

“Not what,” she whispered, holding his gaze. “Who.”

A sliver of a smile touched his lips before it was gone without a trace. “Okay, then. Who?”

“You.”

“Me.” He parroted as if he didn’t believe her.

“You always have inspired me, but hearing what drives you and how you came to teach made me want to work harder. To give history as much as you’ve given it.”

He felt something warm him. He was almost bashful at her praise, where usually it would inflame his ego. But coming from her, from her earnest and sweet heart. It was different.

“I’m glad you find my teachings useful.”

“They really helped with this paper.”

“How did you find it?”

She mulled over her thoughts. Endearing. Intriguing. Enriching. “The perfect amount of challenging. It made me think but my thoughts came naturally.”

“Good.” He pursed his lips. “I knew you’d apply all that I’ve taught you and pull through.”

“And I hope you enjoy it as much as my last one.”

“I’m sure I will. Come and see me tomorrow after your last class and I’ll give you my notes.”

She liked the idea of hearing his musings on her own work. He saw her potential and her drive. Enjoyed what she handed in and told her how much and why.

“Tomorrow.” She smiled a little, standing and slinging her bag up to her shoulder. “I can’t wait.”

There was something in her tone at the sentiment. The hue of it. A soft, wispy colour as pretty as her dress. He wondered if it was flirtation but quickly threw the idea aside.

He couldn’t wish for such things with his student, no matter what signals she sent him. But she was his little teacher’s pet now, and something about having that claim on her was driving him mad.

After a grueling study session in her well-loved nook of the library, she went home to pack for the trip to Naples. There was a checklist criteria for what to bring and what to leave behind.

She threw some of her favourite summer dresses into her suitcase, a few pairs of shoes, and a few extra outfits of baggy jeans and band t-shirts.

She had class with Professor Styles the next day, in which he’d handed out light material in preparation for the trip. Essential knowledge and ground rules.

It seemed he viewed the whole ordeal as a burden. An annoyance. He was taking twenty students away, with only one other member of the faculty joining to help him out. A teacher, who happened to be from Naples, would be staying with their family between class adventures.

He’d rather be sunbathing in Naples than traipsing around ancient ruins with students he despised. Mostly.

He didn’t acknowledge her for the whole lecture, save an initial glance as she’d taken her usual seat. But he’d almost switch off any form of warmth he had towards her when they were in the class environment.

He was his usual grumpy self, impatient with everyone and snapping at anyone who was talking when he was.

She had a free period to end her day, and she used it to finish up some assignments for her other classes as well as work on one of the extra ones he had given her. It was about half done, but she knew to prioritise her other class papers over this one.

She made her way to his office again, and this time it somehow meant more. She felt the weight of entering his space, and it was because of how he seemed to change around her.

That icy demeanour of him melted just enough for her to see the genuine man that lay beneath it.

She knocked, waiting for him to tell her to enter before opening the door. His outfit palette today was soft browns and beige, his glasses perched on his nose while his eyes gleamed behind them.

He looked at her briefly before nodding to the seat and turning back to his work, his expensive ballpoint pen twirling between his fingers. She stared at the bright yellow pen with a smile, noting how it was the exact opposite of his mood; bright, sunny, and cheerful.

She sat in the chair and realised that she felt less and less nervous with every moment she spent alone with him. She’d never felt uncomfortable around him per se, but his intimidating nature was a constant reminder that she couldn’t want him. Shouldn’t want him. But she did.

His jaw worked on a piece of gum, and he frowned as he adjusted his glasses and continued writing on whatever he was working on.

She decided to get comfortable, settling deeper into the chair, figuring he was deeply enthralled with his work. She eyed the bookshelf to her left and scanned his personal library.

She didn’t even realise that he was trying to get her attention, too focused on his book collection, searching for clues as to who he was. Who he was outside of this office, outside of his profession.

“Violet?”

“Hm?” She turned to face him.

He retrieved her assignment from under a stack of other ones he was grading. “I’m wondering why every assignment you’ve given me hasn’t been as good as these last few.”

Oh. Her brows raised. It was a compliment to her most recent work while putting down everything else she’d given him prior to these. She’d always had the drive and passion, but it was evident that something had changed.

“I guess I just felt more inspired. I’ve enjoyed these topics a lot and felt compelled to do them well.” She frowned. “I thought I’d done well with every other assignment, though.”

“You did—obviously, as I passed you. You clearly didn’t do them as well, however, hence my praise.”

“That’s very nice to hear, especially from you.”

His lips quirked at her sheer and utter adoration for him. She valued what he had to say, looked up to him, and the influence he’d had in the younger demographic of Ancient History.

“Well, you deserve it. You work hard, and you’re driven by your passion. That’s rare to come by.”

She could only imagine what he himself was like as a student however many years ago. Like her, he’d studied at Oxford, and after not too long in the field, had felt the need to come back but as part of the faculty.

“Thank you.” She replied, unsure of what else to say. She felt like she was being pinned to her seat by his searing gaze and she wriggled in it, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“Help me with this itinerary for the trip.”

“The itinerary?”

“It’s mostly done. There’s a bunch of books and brochures here, if you see anything you’d particularly like to do, add it to the timesheet and make it work.”

She gawked at him like he’d grown three heads. Her? Help him with the itinerary for the class trip?

“Isn’t this your job?” She felt brave enough to ask. “Like, am I allowed to be doing this?”

“Yes it is, and yes you are.” His tone was so final that she didn’t feel a ribbon of unease lace through her mind.

She scooted forward so that she could use the desk, while he sat at the other side and graded papers. She scanned through the travel brochures and circled things she thought could be educationally beneficial, and eventually started going through the itinerary.

She loved planning and organising, and she wondered if he knew that. Maybe he’d picked up on how pedantic she was about her own class planners and thought this little job would be fun for her. He wasn’t even marginally wrong.

Over her work, she risked quick glances at him. Ones that dared to adventure over his posture, his stern, and concentrated expression. The way he chewed on the tip of his pen, how he would take off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

He was so endearing and she found herself watching him more and more, getting lost in how effortlessly beautiful he was.

He was still grouchy and short with her when she asked questions, and she had smiled whenever he’d huff and grumble under his breath at whatever he was grading.

“You seem particularly melancholy today.” She observed softly, and his eyes flashed to hers before he placed his pen down and laced his fingers together, leaning forward on the desk.

“Am I always melancholy?”

“I think so.”

“And you’re always vibrant.”

As bad as his mood appeared, he seemed to enjoy her company.

She mulled over the itinerary that he’d drafted, editing bits here and there. She had a sprawl of books on his desk, scanning through top tourist spots and mapping out the best walking routes.

There was a moment where he took a break, stretching his arms high over his head with a soft groan she almost missed. She hadn’t even realised that she was looking at him, enamoured and intrigued by his display of exhaustion when he always seemed so energised.

“Stop staring.” He stared at her over the frame of his glasses, his head tilted down.

She blushed, looking down at the itinerary. “I’m not.”

“I saw you.”

“Sorry.”

He watched as she focused a little too hard on a not-so-interesting book and he smiled. He’d called her out, as if he hadn’t been staring at her, too.

She hadn’t realised the time, unknowingly lost in her work for almost two hours. His pager beeped and he checked it, flipping his pen between his fingers as he read.

He reached over, grabbing the itinerary, pretty much complete, and nodding as he scanned it. He could see the depth and excitement that she had added to it and he suppressed a smile.

“I’ll go over this tonight.”

“I added a few different things there. Restaurants, as well as some historical sights and important cultural landmarks.”

He nodded, impressed. “Very good, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“As for the next assignment, I want that tomorrow.”

“We fly to Naples tomorrow.” She frowned,

“I know.”

His icy and cold guise returned. He was her professor demanding something, and she could hardly turn him down. The paper was half done and lucky for her, it wouldn’t be difficult to complete.

“Okay.” She nodded, standing and gathering her things. “It’ll be all yours tomorrow.”

He didn’t respond, turning back to his work. She’d learned to decipher his cues, and took his silence as her own time to leave. She had a lot to do before their trip and she took one last glance at his solemn expression before leaving.

As she closed the door, his eyes went up to the door. Then to the chair where she’d been sitting. His office now felt like a void of who he wanted to be. Influential, important, inspiring. All things that he rarely felt while he was stuck in an old classroom all day.

But then students like her came along. The ones alight with wonder and fascination that wanted to have his success touch them. They weren’t in his class simply because it was a requirement. They were in his class because they were eager to harbour influence of their own.

She spent all night going over her pack list, finalising her outfits and essentials for a couple of nights away. She dotted back to her paper often, wanting to have it complete. She struggled to wrap up her conclusion, and no later fell asleep on her bed, surrounded by her books and topic materials.

Her alarm went off, shrilling deep in her skull. She groaned, killing the sound and stretching. Checking the time, she noted that she only had a matter of hours until she needed to be at Heathrow airport.

She was in some type of trance as she got herself ready. She showered, ate a light breakfast, and readied her luggage. At the last minute, she grabbed the assignment that needed to be done and shoved it into her purse.

After securing a seat on the train, she got to work on it. Tossing back and forth between an abundance of different conclusions. Why did preservation matter? Why were artifacts archived how they were? How were stories of history pieced together?

All such basic questions to her whirring mind, and yet she struggled to encapsulate her thoughts in the unique way that she knew he loved. With a sigh, she put it away. She’d finish it on the flight.

After she arrived at the airport, she headed towards check-in, her small turquoise suitcase in tow. That's when she saw him, and she stopped dead in the hustle of travelers.

She had never seen him so paired back. He was dressed far more casual than his dress pants and sweaters and suits. But he was no less fashionable. She eyed his black, loose fitted pants, the worn vans on his feet, and yellow-stained sunglasses. As loose as his pants were, his t-shirt was anything but. A graphic white one that hugged him and left little to one's imagination.

And tattoos. Lots of them.

She'd only ever seen the cross on his hand and the inklings of something on his wrist. But she could see that his full arm was covered with them. Smatterings of ink, personal depictions, and dedications.

The ship on his upper arm rippled as his muscles flexed, his designer suitcase in his hand.

He looked grumpy, like always. However, the yellow sunnies over his eyes concealed some of his irritation.

His eyes found hers and he peered at her as she approached. She smiled, shy and suddenly nervous about this trip, and moreover, him.

She noticed that the rest of her class was already present, and Charlie wrapped his arm around her shoulder as he greeted her. Professor Styles' mouth twisted at the physical touch between the two before clearing his throat.

No one was paying attention until he stuck his fingers into his mouth and released an ear-piercing whistle, quieting down and facing him.

“Roll call. Be quiet.”

It took some time for every student to settle down, far too excited and chatty to keep quiet enough for him to call out everyone's name to confirm their presence.

As he called out Violet’s name, she raised her hand and watched his expression sour at Charlie's arm still wrapped around her.

Not wanting to be inappropriate, she slowly stepped away from Charlie, who was far too concerned with scoping out the other girls who were around.

They gathered, waiting in line to check in per Professor Styles’ instructions. He handed out the finalised itinerary that they had both worked on, and now everyone had their own copies. She wanted to approach him, but he was busy keeping everyone organised while the other teacher talked at the front desk.

It wasn’t until they were on air side, that he found her in line for coffee and pursed his lips.

“Did you finish the assignment?”

“Almost.”

He raised a brow, his arms crossed and accentuating his muscles and how inked they were. “Almost?”

“Yes, almost.” She affirmed, not missing his look of surprise at her tone, but she continued. “I’ll finish it on the flight.”

“We’ll be in the sky for five hours, Violet. I expect it to be done, so don’t get distracted.”

She almost snorted. What could possibly distract her on a flight? And right on cue, Charlie popped up next to her with a cheeky grin.

“How’s it hangin’, sir?” His grin widened as he stared at their disgruntled professor.

“Fine.” He grumbled, staring Charlie down before looking at Violet. “I want it before we land.”

As he sauntered off, Charlie released a sharp breath. “You’d think he’d crack a smile considering the fact that we’re going on holiday.”

“Of course, you’d see this as a holiday.”

“I heard our hotel has a pool.” He bumped his hip against hers.

She gave him a fake smile, worming out of his hold. “Can’t wait.”

Half way through the flight, she’d found herself polishing off her paper, just how he ordered. The conclusion was strong and unwavering, her skill and passion shining through each word.

She’d managed to avoid sitting next to Charlie, instead, she was next to two girls she enjoyed talking to, although they were a bit quiet during class and outside of it, it was so different. Everyone seemed to busy themselves with studying the itinerary for the trip, bubbling with excitement.

She read over her paper twice, thoroughly proud of it, and she couldn’t wait to have her favourite professor read it. She knew he was a few rows back, and stood, remembering that he wanted it before they landed.

Standing with a stretch, she made her way towards the back, scanning the faces for his, and finding those expressive eyes almost immediately. He was sitting alone in a row of three seats, and she wondered if he’d just gotten lucky or paid for three tickets.

His attention had been on a book before he’d found her eyes. She didn’t get the chance to study the cover of it before he was tucking it away and staring up at her expectably as she came to a halt by his row.

“Yes?”

She held up the completed paper with a look of triumph. “It’s done.”

He felt at odd sensation of pride wash over him. To be fair, he had given her quite a lot to do. And for her to finish it within such a small frame of time, while maintaining the immaculate value of her work, was an incredible feat.

So, he actually smiled. It was small but big enough that his dimples indented his cheeks a little.

“Attagirl. I knew you could do it.”

Her cheeks flushed at his praise and his smile. Two glimmeringly beautiful facets of him that she’d never seen, especially the latter. Fuck, his smile. So soft and serene and dreamy. It was verging on heartbreaking that he didn’t wear it more.

“I hope it’s good.”

“Knowing you… it will be.”

“You’re too kind.” She said bashfully.

He flipped through the assignment, nodding his head with pursed lips. He opened his mouth to say something, gesturing to the empty seat next to him before the sound that accompanied the lighting of the seatbelt signal interrupted him.

He sighed, adjusting his glasses before buckling up. “You better get back to your seat.”

She nodded, unaware that it took everything within him to not invite her to sit on his lap.

They landed in Naples in the early hours of the afternoon, and were shuffled onto a waiting bus towards their first destination of the trip. Professor Styles had done a roll call and had already lost all patience with the loud group he was stuck with.

Their luggage was sent to their hotel, where they’d be turning in after their activities. They were given a tour of the huge city. The driver pointed out landmarks as they passed them.

The expanse of the ocean was pristine cerulean, invitingly crisp, the shore framed with exquisite buildings that crawled up the steep cliffsides. It was bright. Awash with blues and yellows and pinks and reds. Hues that depicted such a lively city so well.

Violet practically had her face pressed up against her window in the bus, admiring how glorious it was. It was densely packed with culture and entertainment and history. She was itching to get out and explore, smell the fresh air and taste the experiences on her tongue.

Their first tourist spot was the National Archaeological Museum. Professor Styles separated his students into two groups, one with him, and one with the other teacher.

To her delight, she was with him, and by the look in his eyes, he was just as happy about it. Maybe he even planned it that way. What he didn’t plan on, however, was Charlie sneaking into his group so that he could be with Violet. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the flash of irritation that almost blinded him.

The museum was phenomenal. Showcasing historical artefacts that had been unearthed by many. There was an abundance of exhibitions, which they were led through by their professor.

She took photos on her disposable camera, one of which had him in the frame, and she wouldn’t realise until she got her film developed.

Following the tour of the largest part of the museum, he turned to face the group. He had noticed Charlie being a nuisance, especially towards Violet and he made a point to ask her about it if he got her alone. He cleared his mind, trying to remain professional but struggling when she was staring at him like she was.

“Archaeologists and historians work together to teach the world about history. About daily lives, historical events, and structures. They excavate the history, and we tell its story. I hope you all feel inspired by what we’ve seen today because I want you to choose a piece and include it in your assignment.”

The group murmured, gathering their notebooks and fluttering around the exhibitions, attempting to find one that could merge in with the topic seamlessly.

Violet found herself on the second floor of the impressive building, completely enamoured with how beautiful it all was. Rich with history and chronicles of the past.

She found a detailed model of what Pompeii had been in its prime. Detailed, intricate and precise. Her eyes wandered the tiny streets where people walked thousands of years ago.

It changed her perspective, seeing it all laid out in front of her gave it so much more weight in her heart. She felt the passion and interest wrap warmly around her like how the Italian sun had kissed her skin; new, inviting, and blissful.

She took a few pictures of it, wanting something to refer back to just in case. As she stared through the lens, she felt a presence behind her. Her professor, stood tall and intimidating, though his expression was composed yet warm.

“It’s impressive, isn’t it?” He nodded towards the model.

“It’s amazing.” She breathed, sharply aware of him standing next to her.

His shoulder brushed hers and she froze. She wanted his touch. Wanted him to out his hands on her and praise her. She hadn’t stopped thinking about when he reached out and brushed her hair away in his office.

“Is he bothering you?”

It appeared that their minds were in two separate places. Her, desperate for his attention, and him, desperate to keep Charlie’s attention off of her.

“Who—Charlie?”

“Because if he is,” he continued, frowning. “He can do his assignment back home.”

And perhaps knowing that she and Charlie shared a night together, sending him away wouldn’t be strictly for her benefit. He felt protective over her, and yeah, he was jealous. He wanted her and he hated to admit it. But seeing her here, in this city, in this room, felt like the final nail in the coffin.

“It’s fine, I can handle him.”

If only she knew how much he saw the depth in that statement.

“Okay, just let me know.”

“Why?” She was perplexed. His tone was almost… territorial. It was more than a teacher protecting his student.

“Because I want to take care of you.”

Her eyes fluttered as they found his, and she felt a rush of arousal spark between her legs at the sheer hunger on his face and in his tone. Fuck. This couldn’t happen. He was her professor.

This was far from appropriate but the way he was looking at her like he wanted to devour and savour her at the same time was driving her wild.

She didn’t know how to respond, but let him take her hand and lead her towards some shelves in the back of the room. They housed artifacts from Pompeii, preserved from excavation sites.

She barely had a chance to look before he was leading her on towards the Gabinetto Segreto. She frowned, halting.

“What is this?”

“My favourite exhibition.” His eyes told her nothing but mischief, and he made sure the coast was clear before ushering her in.

She was taken aback. His favourite exhibition threw all inhibition out of their minds. Sexually graphic paintings, carvings, molds, and statues. Incredibly erotic and lewd.

He watched her in the room, thankfully empty of any other museum visitors. She approached a particularly sensual painting, framed in deep marble, a woman on top of a man, both in seated positions.

“What do you think?” He asked her, his veins thrumming with life and excitement.

Her cheeks were warm, and she was very aware of his gaze on her in the room full of sexual depictions. “I think… people have always had fascinations about bodies. About sex. It’s humanising to see it depicted so early in human civilisation.”

Was it normal for that to turn him on so much? She was clearly feeling the intensity of the room and yet was in her mind enough to give him an answer that reflected her passion for his class.

“Mm.. and how does it make you feel?” His voice was so low as he came to stand behind her.

“Feel?”

“To be surrounded by ancient erotic art. How does it make you feel?”

She let out a shaky sigh, unsure of how to answer. She felt lightheaded and heated and knew the only way to quell it was to have some attention between her legs.

He picked up on her silence, thinking maybe she couldn’t gauge what kind of response he was wanting. “I’ll start. It makes me feel like recreating every piece of art in here.”

Her eyes widened at his confession, feeling so shocked that he would go in that direction but so pleased that he did. Was he just as deep in lust for her as she was for him?

“Me too.” She breathed out, and he swore lowly.

“These were all excavated from Pompeii and Herculaneum. They were kept in brothels, homes—anywhere, really. They had an appreciation for erotica and displaying it. So they allotted this space in the museum. For a time, they only allowed men to come in here and view it.”

She could listen to him talk for hours, and then she realised that she did. And loved every millisecond of it. How his lips caressed words, how he spoke a few octaves lower than most, but it was still a milky and warm voice that rang through her ears.

“Lucky me.” She smiled. He wondered how she truly felt. Aside from the obvious, she found it almost funny to think that people thousands of years ago were fortifying lands and yet found a common ground in sexual art.

He huffed out a laugh and her heart just about stopped at the noise. “Not as lucky as whoever had this hanging on their wall.”

He pointed to a large painting of a couple embracing, his skin golden against the woman’s fair skin. The preservation was amazing, aside from slight erosion of the colour and some cracks near the bottom.

“It’s very intimate.” She observed. It was—like everything else in the room—sexual. But the strokes of paint were soft, their hold on each other even more so. Love. Care.

He wanted to know if someone had held her like that. So gentle, savouring every inch of skin. Worshiping her like the piece of art that she was.

After a filling dinner at a nearby restaurant, they all found themselves at their hotel. They gathered their room keys, and each partnered up to share a room for the trip. As Violet and her professor were the last two standing in the lobby, they eyed each other awkwardly.

“This has to be a mistake.” He frowned, staring at the concierge. The other teacher was staying close by with family. Harry was sure that he’d requested his own room in the hotel. This couldn’t be happening. “Is there another room available?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

He sighed, clenching his jaw. He wanted to hole up in his room and order expensive wine and listen to music. Now he had to face the reality that he’d be sharing a room. With her. Maybe he’d sleep out in the hallway.

Instead of making a scene and taking out his frustration onto the person at reception, he stared at Violet, whose eyes were wide with what appeared to be apprehension.

“I can find another hotel to stay at.” He said lowly to her.

“With the number of people you’re caring for, I would advise against that, Sir. The nearest hotels are also fully booked.”

Harry glared at the concierge. The concept of staying in the same room as one of his students was a harsh pill to swallow. A jarring sensation. He was being faced with one of his deepest fantasies but now all he felt was that he was a creep.

He sighed, and met her eyes. “Come on.”

She blinked away her surprise and followed him. She could see how tense he was as his knuckle jabbed the button to call the elevator. She bit her lip and stared at him.

“Professor—”

“I swear to you I demanded a separate room.”

She frowned, seeing the worry in his eyes. He thought she saw this as something he had planned out. He felt sick about it.

“It’s out of your control. They clearly messed up the bookings, it’s fine.” She assured him, although her nerves were shooting through the roof. She had no idea how the night was going to go, or the rest of this trip, for that matter.

They arrived at their room and he took a deep breath before opening it. It was lavish, thought she expected him to book nothing less. A small seating and kitchen area, and a set of double doors that must have led off to the bedroom.

He located his duffel bag dropped off by the staff and rummaged through it. “I’ll take the couch.”

She stood awkwardly in the room. “Oh, okay.”

He took his toiletry bag, sauntering into the en suite in the bedroom. “Just gonna shower.”

Her eyes followed him, his tense body language putting her on edge. She’d never seen him so uncomfortable. Once she heard the shower turn on, she quickly changed into her sleepwear, soft silk pants, and an old t-shirt.

To keep herself busy and keep her anxiety at bay, she began working on her assignment for the class trip. Taking notes and jotting down observations she’d made. She was cozied up on the window seat, overlooking the city with a soaring heart.

He came out, his hair dripping, wetting his white t-shirt. The grey sweats on his bottom half left her speechless. Now, this was the most dressed down she’d ever seen him.

“We should get some sleep.” He said, eyeing the notebook in her hand.

“Yeah, o—of course.”

“And don’t worry I… I’ll see about getting another room tomorrow. Surely they’ll have a free one by then.”

“I don’t mind.” She blurted out, worried that he thought she was seeing him as utterly inappropriate. “It’s not… I mean, it is kinda weird but this whole mix-up is out of our control. We’re adults. We’ll make it work.”

“You’re right.” He huffed out a breath, seemingly relaxed at that. They could make it work. It was going to be a mission to shelf his attraction to her, but he kept putting on his professional hat, even though her wandering gaze was warming him up inside.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” She breezed past him, and he could smell her sweet scent.

“Good night, Violet.”

She paused at the door, about to close them when she turned back to look at him with a sultry expression that made his dick hard.

“Sweet dreams, professor.”

Suffice it to say, his dreams were anything but.

“Listen up! I’m not in the mood to repeat myself.”

It had been an eventful morning and they hadn’t even left the hotel yet. They were piled into a bus, and Charlie was sitting next to Violet, chatting her ear off.

She couldn’t keep her eyes off her professor's disgruntled expression. How she’d seen more of him than any student had before.

How he’d hidden his smile when she offered to make him coffee that morning, how his voice was far deeper after sleep.

How he’d effortlessly slipped back into his cold and disheartening demeanour after he’d gotten dressed. A pair of grey slacks and a light blue dress shirt. She tried to brush it off and pretend it didn’t bother her, but she wanted his warmth and all he gave her was soft glimpses of it before he shut her out again.

“Remember what we are here for. Keep your minds open and explore this unique opportunity. I won’t be supplying material when we return to class, so gather everything you need today. Is that understood?”

The students nodded, hearing him loud and clear. Violet checked that she had her notebook and disposable camera on hand, feeling inspired to make this assignment her best one yet.

Pompeii was everything she had dreamt of and everything she never knew she could experience. It was a phenomenal sight to see. To really walk the streets which had been wandered down before. Where lives had fled as Mount Vesuvius unleashed its wrath, coughing up poisonous ash and spewing deadly lava.

She trudged through the fallen streets, imagining what it must have been like. Danger looming. Harrowing screams. Grasping for valuables as they fled.

Her disposable camera seldom left her hands, and the click of her taking shots set off Charlie’s impatient streak in him.

“Let me give you a personal tour.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

“I really want to focus on this.”

“Come on, Violet. You’ll have way more fun with me.”

She sighed as he attempted to take the camera from her hands. “Charlie, please. It was one night and it won’t happen again. Let it go.”

“Why the sudden switch up?” He frowned.

“I just… I want to focus on passing this assignment, okay?” And she was bored of him. Another, far more intriguing man has eclipsed her every thought.

“Fine by me. I’ll show someone else around.” He sauntered off and she glared at his back.

She rolled her eyes and tried to focus on the task at hand. At being in such a beautiful place, struck by such a disaster.

The class had all spread out by that point, and she fought to stay by herself. She worked best that way, alone with her thoughts. No pressure to fake her interest in anything aside from the historical site before her.

She sat at the edge of a small field, framed by stone arches and fallen buildings, crumbling walls. She began to sketch out the scene before her, listening to music on her Walkman, lost in her work as Duran Duran blessed her ears.

She felt the presence of someone sitting next to her, and she looked up, surprised to see her grumpy professor. His mouth moved as it formed words and she frowned, pulling her headphones off.

“I’m sorry?”

He looked amused, albeit annoyed that he had to repeat himself. “I said, I didn’t know that you could draw.”

She smiled sheepishly, staring down at her drawing. “It’s just a rough sketch. I’m a visual learner, so it helps, gives me something to refer back to if I need it.”

“It’s pretty good. You could incorporate it into the assignment.” He seemed impressed.

“That’s allowed?”

“Only because I said so.”

She bit her lip to hide her smile, although he saw her cheeks become a stunning shade of pink that he associated only with her. Like saturated carnations or his favourite ice cream, boysenberry with strawberry swirls.

She was worming her way into his brain like a rotten apple and he could only sit and watch the decay.

“I just called the hotel. They’re still fully booked—”

“Last night wasn’t horrible.” She said. “We both kept to ourselves and slept well. Unless you want a turn in the bed tonight.”

It was his turn to blush now, and she didn’t miss it.

“The couch is fine.” He grumbled, embarrassed.

She wanted to tease him. To tug that soft side of him out. But a large part of her knew he’d reprimand her for it. Use his authority on her. Not that she’d mind, but it wasn’t a way to get through to him in the slightest.

“What’s on the itinerary, then?”

He shot her a look. “You should know, considering you did it.”

She laughed. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like what I chose. If I remember correctly, I put us down for an afternoon of relaxing at the beach and self-appointed activities.”

“I never did ask what self-appointed entails.”

“Well, it could entail a number of things. Exploring the city, working on papers, grading papers,” she leaned in towards him. “Anything, it’s just downtime.”

“Downtime.” He parroted.

“That’s a completely foreign concept for you, isn’t it?”

He stifled a laugh and nodded. “Any and all free time I have is spent on you,” he cleared his throat, “my classes, I mean.”

“Maybe take some time to relax today, then. Even if just for a few hours before dinner.”

“I’ll try.” He sighed, staring down at her Walkman. “You always carry that thing around.”

He was a lot more observant of her than he was ever going to admit. And they both picked up on it. He stared at her red and white sundress for a time, wondering if she’d worn it just for him to agonise over. He had been all fucking morning. He pushed his glasses further up his nose.

As she opened her mouth to respond, he stood with a gruff, “I need to check in with everyone else. Keep working.”

She did, the sun browning her skin, her tiny sundress the only thing he could think about as he talked with other students and showed them around.

She ventured Pompeii some more, taking pictures, penciling quick sketches, and let her eyes wander over to him whenever she thought he wasn’t looking. But he always was, and they both looked away quickly.

Charlie seemed to forget all about the rejection she’d given him by the time they were at the beach and lounging on sunbeds. Violet had taken a dip, but was mostly into reclining in her little yellow bikini.

She slipped her shades up onto her head as she took in the scene before her. Most of the students had joined them, a few had ventured into the city.

But it was a rarity any of them got to see the sun and sand like this, so they practically melted in the experience, vowing to never leave.

She let her eyes scan the beach, her book tucked into her side on a dog-eared page. She enjoyed people-watching. Seeing her fellow students thrive under the golden sun, and seeing families make memories.

And Professor Styles. Stretched out on a sunbed far from everyone else. Yellow swimming shorts, bronzed skin, decorated in tattoos, both arms flexed as he stretched them above his head.

Her mouth dried at the sight. How toned and prominent he was. She could easily imagine herself sitting on top of him, mapping out each tattoo, licking, kissing, biting. Admiring.

As if he could sense her eyes on him, he looked up, a lone finger sliding his shades down to look at her. And lip quirked up on one side in a subtle smirk that made her toes curl. So, he got especially cocky when he was half-naked.

She tried to turn her attention back onto her book, but it was an effort to think of anything else other than him. She craved his touch, even though all he had given her was a whisp of it in his office.

They were dangling themselves in front of each other, temptation and lust awry, waiting for who would take the plunge first.

Following a game of cat and mouse, trying to catch each other’s eyes, it was time to head back to the hotel and get ready for dinner at a local restaurant.

She beat him to the room, grabbing a quick shower, almost ready by the time he entered the room.

He could smell her sweet perfume as he entered the room, the air humid from a long shower. She was sitting at the vanity in the bedroom, swiping mascara on her wispy lashes.

Her eyes met his in the mirror, disappointed to find him dressed in a t-shirt, those same yellow shorts allowing her to see his tattooed thigh.

“How was your downtime?” She asked him.

He came up behind her, still watching each other in the mirror. “It was good. Although, a girl was gawking at me the whole time. Didn’t think my body was that atrocious.”

He was teasing her. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, and so she played along.

“I’m sure atrocious was the last thing on her mind.”

“You think so?”

“Maybe you should have asked her.”

“I thought about it.”

She held her breath. “Did you?”

“Mm. Thought about inviting her over to my sunbed… asking her what had captured her attention. I knew what she was thinking but I just wanted to hear her say it.”

“Say what?” She breathed out. His eyes were so intense. Molten and demanding, holding hers with such a ferocity that she felt it between her legs.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Now Violet, when have I ever given you the answers to a test?”

She released a shaky sigh, tilting her head away from him, allowing him access to her neck.

He smirked at her eagerness. “You’re a bad girl. Finish getting ready.”

“Then stop distracting me.”

He growled deep in his chest, taking a step away from her. “Don’t talk back, Violet. Ever.”

He sauntered into the bathroom, locking the door with a click. She fanned herself with her hand, quickly slipping on a white summer dress and heading downstairs to hang with her classmates.

Everyone was unaware of the fact that she and their professor were sharing a room, and she cringed to think about how they’d react if they found out.

The attraction they had for each other was undeniable, but she saw it as harmless flirting. Until… he touched her. Until he took her into that erotic room. Until he told her not to talk back. She was fucked.

He led them to the restaurant, pointing out architectural phenomena, and different historical sites for them to make note of. He looked so pretty that it hurt. Light pink dress pants and a matching blazer, a white singlet underneath. His glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, his curls falling down on his forehead messily.

She lagged behind, and he noticed, subtly falling back, She was stopping to take pictures of different buildings, in awe of the structures and local ways of life.

He slowed his pace, keeping close to her just in case. She wasn’t overly warm towards anyone else in the class, and it made him feel glad in the sense that she focused on his class, but he couldn’t help but wonder if she had many friends outside of class.

Perhaps that’s why he was so protective over her. How territorial and irrational he became towards her. How enamoured by her he was. Buy her words and her confidence, whether in corduroy pants or little sun dresses.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to appear relaxed, but he was crawling out of his fucking skin. He needed her. Wanted her. Had to have her. He just didn’t know how to do so. He sucked at talking to women, but he knew how to fuck.

Just getting them on their backs was the hardest part for him. He had never struggled with men, but women terrified him for some reason. Especially women like her.

He kept watching her like she’d drop a clue behind a step on the cobbled street.

And when he noticed that one of her sneakers had become untied, he felt his heart begin to race.

The group was further ahead, and he fell into step beside her, grabbing her hand to garner her attention.

She turned to look at him with wide eyes, her camera clicked, and as she spun around, his face fell perfectly into the frame. But the two of them were too focused on his touch to notice.

“Your lace is untied.” He explained simply, his touch gone.

She looked down, “oh.”

“Let me,” he knelt down on the ground, lifting her foot up onto his raised knee. She gasped at the feel of his fingers wrapped around her ankle. How they softly caressed her skin before they got to work tying her lace.

His ringed fingers were a wonder to watch. So precise and nimble. She felt her cheeks tinge pink as she stared down at him on his knee for her. And when he looked up, it was almost as if he was in awe. Worshipping.

His hand slid up her ankle, cupping her calf and sliding higher. And then he dropped his touch, realising how inappropriate he was being.

“Thank you, professor.”

His jaw clenched slightly before he stood, adjusting his suit jacket. “We should catch up with the others.”

They were the last to enter the restaurant, and the universe pushed them together once again with two remaining seats. Next to each other.

Her leg was still burning from his touch and she wanted to experience it over every inch of skin on her body.

It was a wonder she could even focus on eating. He was so powerful in his presence. Even when she wasn’t looking at him she could feel him. This tar-thick sensation next to her, begging to be pulled in, begging to have her attention.

He ate his meal in silence, drinking a cider, offering bits to the conversation here and there.

She was a nervous wreck. She could smell his cologne. How it was sweet and spicy and sultry all at once.

At some point, restless and on edge, she crossed her leg, her foot accidentally nudging his ankle. He shot her a look through the corner of his eye, his mouth on his drink.

She blushed, apologising to him under her breath. But he moved his leg towards hers a little before retracting. Intrigued, she extended her foot out again, letting it trace up his leg.

“Careful.” He warned lowly.

She stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Or what?”

“You don’t want to start trouble with your professor, do you?”

She pursed her lips. “Maybe I do.”

“I pegged you for a good student, Violet. Perhaps I was wrong.”

“I’m a good girl where it counts, professor.”

“Then be a good girl and go settle the bill. We need to get an early night.”

He handed her his card, watching as she stood and went to pay. He eyed her thighs at the hem of her dress, remembering how soft she’d felt as he tied her shoelace. How lulled her expression became when she was teasing him under the table.

He thought about how it felt to be kneeling before her. How if he leaned forward just a little, he’d be able to see up her dress. See the colour of her panties. Flick his tongue out and get a long-awaited taste.

He skipped the dessert menu because he knew nothing would satisfy the sweet tooth he had. Only she could quell the craving.

Fuck. He couldn’t share a room with her tonight. Not unless he wanted to fuck her against every surface of it.

The walk back to the hotel was tense for the two of them. They tried to avoid each other, she tried to spark conversation with other students, while he conversed with the other professor who was probably triple his age and insufferable to talk to.

He felt especially creepy when he realised the most interesting conversations he’d ever held had been with a student of his. One who was ten years his junior.

The other professor split off, heading to his family home while Harry was in charge of leading everyone back to the hotel.

He was back to his short and curt self, subdued by his own thoughts. She eyed him, wondering if he regretted getting so comfortable with her. Because she sure as hell didn’t regret anything.

Everyone parted ways, heading to their designated rooms, while she lagged behind, completely on edge.

Their eyes met as they leaned on opposite walls in the hallway. Waiting. Gauging.

“I should find somewhere else to stay tonight.” His voice broke through the tension.

Her heart dropped and she started to panic at the prospect of him leaving her. “You don’t need to do that.”

He sighed, torn. “Violet…”

“I promise I’ll behave. You won’t even know I’m here.”

He watched her, internally debating. Could he behave? And would she stay true to her word? It was later in the evening now, and he hardly felt like trudging around the city until he found an available room.

He sighed again and nodded, entering the room wordlessly. She followed after him, watching as he stripped off his jacket and ran his hands through his hair.

She slipped into the bedroom, and as she went to close the door, decided to leave it slightly ajar. An invitation.

He sat on the couch, spreading his arms along the back. His mind was a jumbled mess, the only clarity were liquified swirls of violet skies that gave him a sense of constant.

His eyes found movement in the gap of the bedroom door and his mouth went dry. Violet pulled her tiny white dress over her head, her matching white bra and panties revealed to his hungry stare.

She pulled her hair free from its ponytail, the yellow ribbon falling to the ground in a tiny silk puddle.

She bent over, unlacing her sneakers before pulling them off. He knew he had to look away. But he couldn’t. He was staring directly between her legs. The softness of her hips and her thighs. His stomach clenched.

Reaching back, still facing away, she unclasped her bra and let that fall to the floor carelessly. He internally begged her to turn around. But he knew that if he saw her bare tits it would be game over. He already felt like he was going to finish in his pants.

And then she stepped out of view, appearing moments later in a white silk camisole and matching shorts. He looked away quickly as she exited the bedroom, trying to hide the fact that she’d put on that show just for him.

“Can you please help me?” her sweet voice caressed his ears.

He still didn’t look at her. “With?”

“My necklace.” She came to stand in front of him. “It’s tangled.”

He eyed the dainty jewelry around her neck and wondered how his hand would look in its place.

“Do you ever take yours off?” She nodded to the cross pendant dangling from his neck.

“No. It stays on. Always.”

“Even when you—”

“Turn around, Violet.”

She giggled and turned while he stood, his body shaking with desire. She scooped up her hair out of the way, a few strands tangled in the clasp of her necklace.

“You like doing that, don’t you?”

“Doing what?”

“Teasing me and acting oblivious to it.” His fingers began to unwork the tangles of her necklace.

“How do I tease you?”

“Well, the little show you just put on is a great place to start.”

She smirked. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He growled and brought his hand around, cupping her throat and encouraging her to lean fully against him.

“Don’t make me out to be a fucking pervert, Violet. Prance around in your tiny little shorts all you want, just as long as you know that you’re doing so for me.”

“We’re not in the classroom anymore, professor. No need to boss me around.”

“Brat.” He said through his teeth. “I’m always the boss.”

She gasped out in the authority in his tone, at the sureness in his actions. His hand around her throat just like she’d imagined a million times while he taught a class.

“I know you daydream about me.” He whispered in her ear. “I can see your mind wander when you’re sitting at the front of my class. You think about all the things you want me to do to you.”

“That’s a bold assumption.” She continued to tease him.

“Mmm.” He rumbled in her ear. “And I bet you’re wet right now.”

“You’re wrong.” She whimpered.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Prove it.”

She stepped away, staring up at him. “H—How?”

He feigned a bored expression, shoving his hands into his pockets with a sigh. “You’re a smart girl, Violet. Figure it out.”

All confidence she had was shredded away by his condescending tone and she released a shaky breath. Prove it? She sat down on the couch, finding his eyes willingly.

Fuck. This was everything the both of them had been daydreaming about. Releasing the tension that had been building between them ever since she started his class.

He would have stopped her if she didn’t want this. And she wouldn’t have given him a show if she didn’t’ want it. She slipped a hand down her shorts, her eyes lulling while his widened at the scene.

Her fingers found her core, throbbing and wet already. She whimpered, trying to look unfazed but he could see how much her legs were shaking.

“That’s a good girl. Let me see.”

She retracted her hand from the silk of her shorts and displayed her fingers, glistening with her excitement.

He grabbed her wrist, investigating the wetness. He tutted. “Now, what are we going to do about this, hm?” His eyes met hers and she melted.

“I don’t know.”

His gaze hardened on hers. “Part of your studies have been based on problem-solving, Violet. I know I’ve been doing my job right. The question is: have you been a good student?”

“Yes,” she whispered, shaking.

“Is that so? Then tell me how we solve this problem that you have.”

“Problem…?”

“You’re sitting in front of your professor, dripping for him. Tell me how we can fix it before you make a mess.”

She swallowed, her mouth dry. “Touch me.”

“Raise your voice when you’re speaking to me.”

She cleared her throat, mildly embarrassed. “Touch me.”

“Touch you? I could fail you for this behaviour that you’re displaying. I can’t think of one reason not to.”

“Please,” she whispered, “please, touch me.”

He sat on the coffee table opposite her. “I can’t risk it… we can’t—”

“Please. Just once, it’s all I will ever ask of you.”

He stared at her, his expression disgruntled. Like she was causing him actual annoyance by asking him such a thing.

“Fuck it.”

He took her fingers past his lips, saturated with her wetness, and sucked on them. Cleaning them and tasting her. Heavenly and sinful.

She gasped as he did so, unable to even wrap her head around what was happening before his lips met hers, his hand on the nape of her neck.

“Kiss me.” He ordered against her and she obliged, whimpering as his tongue found hers.

He stood and leaned over her, pushing her back into the couch. He pulled away momentarily, as much as it pained him.

“You want this?”

She nodded, leaning forward to kiss him but he shook his head.

“Words, Violet. I need to hear you say it.”

“I want you.” She assured him, glad to finally have the words leave her mouth.

“Show me,” he breathed out. “Show me how much you want me.”

He sat back on the table again, leaving her panting and shaking while he slipped his glasses from his face. She bit her lip, finding every ounce of courage that she had before slowly slipping her shorts down her legs.

His eyes never left hers as she got herself comfortable, and he untangled her shorts from her ankle, his cock hardening further when she giggled playfully.

She spread her legs a little, her hand finding its way back between them. He hissed as she played with herself, and he could hear how wet she was as well as see it.

He leaned forward, his hands on her thighs. “Are you this wet for me during class?”

She shook her head slowly.

“Are you lying to me?” His hands smoothed up her legs and he could feel how hard she was shaking having his touch on her.

“No…”

“Mm...” His hands found her sensitive inner thighs and her legs spread further, enticing him in. “I think you’re lying, Violet.” His thumb brushed her sensitive clit and she gasped. “I think…” A little more pressure. “You sit in my class, fantasising about me.” Small circles. “And then you go home, get yourself off and imagine that it’s me doing it.”

“Please—”

“Am I wrong?”

“Fuck,” she cried out as his fingers built up speed and pressure. “No, you’re not wrong.”

“I never am.” He smirked, pulling her so that she was laying down flat on the couch.

His mouth found her cunt in a deep kiss and she rolled her hips up towards him, his hands cupping under her thighs to keep her where he wanted her.

Her back arched at the sensation of his mouth. So wet and hot and skilled. She’d known how good he was with his mouth, as she’d listened to him talk for hours. But this was something else, and she knew she’d never look at his lips the same again.

His brow was furrowed in concentration, and he moaned against her, loving how sweet she tasted. How she was shaking and he’d only just gotten started.

His tongue found her clit in delicate flicks, sucking and nibbling it until she was gasping.

The straps of her camisole fell down her shoulders, and her tits came into his view. Her nipples were pebbled from the cool air and he reached up, pinching and squeezing them with deft fingers.

All he could think of was the fact that she was lightyears better than anything he’d viewed in Gabinetto Segreto. But he knew that before he’d seen her naked.

His ears were ringing with how good she felt and he couldn’t wait to feel her wrapped around his cock. God, he’d grasp onto the feeling forever. He could already see himself begging shamelessly at her knees for a pity fuck.

Her hands came down and entwined with his curls, determined to make a mess of them. She had spent far too many hours admiring the perfect shape of them and the precise middle parting.

He groaned as she pulled them, his eyes finding her blissful expression. He ate her like he’d never had a satisfying meal in all his years. After tasting her, it felt like he hadn’t. And nothing would ever suffice again.

She brought Gabinetto Segreto fucking shame.

He gave her a finger, testing the waters with what she could take. Her body went lax before tightening up in pleasure. His jaw dropped at how warm and snug she was.

“Oh, pet. You’re going to get me addicted to this pretty little pussy, aren’t you?”

She whimpered, rolling her hips up in desperation. The way he was talking to her. Encouraging her and talking her through it. It was all so surreal.

“Professor…”

“What?” He pulled away, annoyed to have her interrupt.

“It’s okay.”

He frowned. “What?

“I—It’s okay. You don’t have to…”

“Don’t have to what?” He was getting pissed off now.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“What, make you come?” He frowned further, bewildered.

“It’s hard for me to do that.”

His eyes softened and he crawled up her body, his hand cradling her jaw tenderly. “Has anyone ever made you come, pet?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Just my vibrator.”

He pouted a little. “That’s a shame, isn’t it? I bet you get so creamy… so relaxed and soft.”

She could feel his hands massaging her body, but she felt lightheaded with how he was talking to her.

“I can make you come, pet. As many times as you want.”

“I don’t know how.”

“You don’t have to do a thing. You just lay back and let your professor look after you, okay? You deserve it after all of your hard work. I’m very impressed.”

“Really?” Her eyes were wide.

“Really. Daddy’s going to reward you, now. Would you like that?”

Her eyes lulled the second that word fell from his mouth.

“Yes.”

“My good little pet.”

His mouth found her core again, reveling in her taste and the feel of her. He helped her relax enough that she could simply feel the pleasure and nothing else. She had been so stuck in her mind but now all she could fathom was pure bliss.

He gave her two fingers, massaging a spot inside of her that she had not discovered before. It was overwhelmingly intense. Pressure and sensitivity and euphoria.

“Relax, Violet. Can you do that for me?”

She focused on keeping relaxed, but almost laughed at his request. How could she relax with his head between her thighs?

She must have done a good enough job because he moaned, closing his eyes and kissing her cunt almost romantically.

He wanted to watch her. To guide her and talk her through it. He came up, licking inside of her mouth, sucking on her tongue.

You’re doing so well.

So sweet for me.

You’re milking my fingers, pet.

Breathe, that’s it.

He could tell she was close and he was watching her in awe. Watching her write in pleasure that only he had ever been able to entice from her. He was far too in his head to feel smug about it, but he knew he’d come back to that later.

“Oh…”

“That’s right,” he coerced. “You’re gonna come all over my fingers, I can feel it. Fuck, do it on my tongue instead.”

He swiftly placed his mouth on her again, paying all of his attention to her clit while his fingers worked inside of her. She was pulsing and it drove him to take her harder, moaning against her.

His arm tensed, the veins in it prominent, snaking around his muscles. He couldn’t fathom why the men before him hadn’t got her here like this. He was addicted to everything about her. Her body and her mind. Her jaw dropped in pleasure.

His mouth latched onto her clit ferociously, and the intensity of it knocked her over the edge of bliss. She writhed around, crying out as it overwhelmed her. He pinned her down, helping her ride the wave.

“Thaaat’s it, pet. What a good girl.” He soothed her as she came down.

She gasped out, grabbing his wrist as he slowly fucked her with his fingers.

“Fuck.” She smiled, meeting his eyes.

“How did that feel, hm?” He checked in, his mouth and chin drenched in her. He kissed her inner thighs, pulling away.

“So good.”

“Yeah?” He came over her. “Let’s get rid of this, shall we?”

She barely had time to register what was going on before he ripped her silk camisole from her body, discarding it behind the couch.

“Hey!” She yelled out. “That was expensive.”

“Daddy will buy you another one.” He promised, his eyes falling over her bare breasts. “Fuck, look at you. Gorgeous little thing.”

She moaned as he gripped her breasts, toying with her nipples. He spat down on her chest, wiping his spit around her tits with a devilish grin.

“You’ll let me do what I want, won’t you, pet?”

“Yes.” She whispered, meaning it.

“The next time you’re in my class,” he pinched her nipple. “I’m gonna make you sit on my lap. Make you read out your paper while I play with your clit and fill your cunt with my cock. Make you cream all over me while everyone watches.”

“Professor—”

He stood abruptly, ridding of his shirt and pants, allowing her to see him as bare as she’d ever seen him. His inked torso and arms. His strong thighs and toned tummy. She felt her insides melt and warp.

He grabbed her hand and placed it over his clothed cock, hard and throbbing.

“Feel what you do to me?” He asked, wrapping his hand around her throat to hold her still while her hand felt him. “I get so hard every time I see you. I can’t fucking stand it.”

Her mouth was watering and she shifted forward, kissing along his length. He growled lowly, feeling his cock twitch and his balls tighten.

“You’re a naughty pet. Come to my class in those tiny dresses because you know I think about pinning you against the wall and slipping inside of you.”

“I wish you would.” Her eyes were wide, staring at his.

He tilted his head, gripping her hair in his fist, his rings catching. “You do, don’t you? Little whore.”

She nodded eagerly, whimpering when he pushed her face forcefully against his crotch. He leaned down, his fingers finding her pussy, slick from her orgasm. He hummed, gathering her wetness and spreading it along his covered cock.

“Messy girl. Clean me up.”

“Make me.”

He glared darkly, his nostrils flaring at her disobedience. He gripped her hair hard enough that tears formed, and he moved his hand to pinch her jaw until she opened it.

“Tongue out.” He barked and she slowly did as she was asked. “Wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, clean me up or I’ll fuck my fist and make you watch.”

He spat on her tongue and she hummed, swallowing before leaning forward and licking off her wetness from his crotch. His brow furrowed at the sight. His feisty little pet.

She sucked on the tip of him over his boxers, and he whimpered before pushing her away. He quickly rid of his boxers, impatient. He had to be inside her. He prided himself in his ability to last but that seemed to be irrelevant when it came to her. Just looking at her naked and pouting was enough to set him off.

She reached for his cock, hard, a bead of pre-come on the tip. He throbbed in her palm, so hot and ready for him. He ran his hands through his hair, his body tingling.

She took him past her lips, her eyes fluttering. His head fell back on his neck as she took his tip, sucking and flicking her tongue against the slit. He encouraged her, his hand tangling into her hair.

“Take more.” He rasped, moaning loudly when she fit half of him in.

She used her hand to work on what she couldn’t fit yet. He was losing it, spitting down on his cock to get it nice and wet before forcing her to take all of him.

She choked on him, her eyes watering as she gagged.

“Fuck,” he gritted his teeth, his abs flexing as he pushed his hips forward.

Tears streamed down her face, smudging her mascara. His thumb wiped under her eyes, smearing it further. He wanted to destroy her.

He took her throat in slow, rolling thrusts, allowing her to breathe and watching when she tapped his thigh when she needed a break.

She picked up her pace, and his knees buckled. He attempted to pull away but her hands wound around his thighs, holding him in place.

“Pet,” he whined, “you gotta stop.”

She eyed him mischievously, moving her mouth harder. Faster.

He swore, grabbing her hair and practically ripping her from him. He threw her back and slapped her cheek before gripping her jaw and pressing his face against hers.

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?”

She giggled, her cheek stinging, but it fuelled her arousal.

He clenched his jaw, holding hers harder. “You promised you’d behave.”

The feral rage in his eyes made her gulp. She did not fear him, per se, but feared what he’d do to her as punishment. Feared that she’d like it too much.

She wanted him warmed up to her. But she wasn’t sure that he was capable of that.

“I am behaving, professor.”

“I don’t think you are.”

She frowned, pouting. His expression softened, loving how she looked all vulnerable when she did that little face.

He cupped her reddened cheek, looking at her wet eyes and swollen lips from his cock.

She opened her mouth to protest, to apoligise, or to plead. She wasn’t sure.

“I—”

“Shh.. sit back and take my cock, pet.”

The willingness in her eyes melted him and she fell onto her back, pressing her legs together with her knees bent and swaying them side to side.

He took a step forward, fisting his cock with a shaky breath. He had fantasised about this for so long and now that it was finally happening, he couldn’t believe it.

“You look so good.” He complimented, his voice low. His hands ran down her body, feeling every inch and every curve. He settled over her, hitching her leg high over his hip.

“So do you.” She breathed out, her hands running down his sides, feeling the muscles flex.

“You were made for fucking.” He spoke his thoughts, running the tip of his cock between her slick folds. “Made to take me. Made to be used by me.”

She whimpered, rolling her hips up. “Take me. Use me.”

He kissed her, pushing his hips forward a little. She made a soft sound as he pushed inside of her, able to take the tip of him before her body tensed.

“You’re so big.” She whimpered, wide eyes staring up at him.

“You can take it.”

He held her in place, pushing forward and breaking through her tightness. She gasped as she took half of him, and he reached down, rubbing her clit to lessen the sting.

She mewled softly, her body relaxing as he slowly took her. He pushed all the way in, and he swore quietly as she rippled around him.

“Attagirl.” He praised. “I knew you could do it.”

“Oh… my god.” She moaned, her eyes watering at how fucking good he felt. He was so big that she felt him everywhere. He was pressed snugly against that spot he’d found not long before and the pressure of it was blinding.

It was the fact that they definitely should not be doing this that made it feel so much fucking better.

“I’m going to move now.” He informed her, retracting his hips until only his head remained inside of her. He slammed back in forcefully and she cried out, her back arching.

He didn’t stop. He screwed into her relentlessly, pounding her down into the couch. She couldn’t get a single breath in with how hard he was fucking her. His touch never left her clit, until he wrapped his arms around her and stood, holding her up as he fucked up into her.

She bit into his neck, his skin warm and damp beneath her. Her nails embedded themselves into his shoulders, trying to hold on as he took her.

He pressed her against the wall, his head dropping back with a growl. She watched him in awe. The sheer power he exerted on her body was blinding. He was so in control, so feral and animalistic but in control nonetheless.

She had never had someone fuck her like this. He was confident in the classroom, but having him even more so while he was naked and inside of her was something she never knew that she’d experience.

She gripped onto his hair, near on sobbing as he took her. “Professor…”

“Harry.” He gritted out, his curls a mess.

“H—Harry, please.”

“Please, what?” He breathed out, grunting. “Tell me—fuck—tell me what you need.”

“Touch me.”

His hand wound around her throat, his gaze searing on hers. “Tell me where you want me to touch you, pet.”

“My clit.” She whispered out. “I need it, please.”

“Fuck, say my name again.” He huffed, staring at her desperately.

“Please, Harry. I need it.”

He groaned, pushing two fingers in her mouth until she gagged, getting them wet. Then he connected his fingers to her clit and rubbed in delicious circles. Her toes curled, her hands raking down his shoulders and sides as he took her.

“You like that?” He checked, knowing full well she loved it with how tight her pussy was around him.

She nodded, whimpering as he slapped his hips against her.

“Yeah, you do, don’t you? Your pretty little cunt is squeezing me like a fist. Dirty girl letting me use you like this.”

He placed her on her shaky legs, slipping down to his knees. He aided her in placing a leg over his shoulder, opening her up to him. He latched onto her core with a loud moan.

“Taste so good.” He said between licks, her core trembling around his tongue. “Love feeling how my big cock is destroying your pussy.”

He ate her, addicted. He held her up as her body became weak with pleasure. His fingers found her core, fucking her with two fingers while his mouth sucked and nibbled and licked her clit.

She looked down at his face, seeing his eyes closed as he ate her. He was enjoying it just as much as she was. Her professor was on his knees for her.

From tying her shoelace to eating her out in a matter of hours.

He loved being able to taste his cock while he ate her. Able to taste where he’d claimed her and destroyed her. His dick twitched, missing the warmth of her. Wanting to spread his cum inside of her and watch it leak out.

He grabbed her, bending her over the window seat. She stared at the view of the ocean as he stared at the view of her.

“Spread your legs.” He ordered.

She bit her lip, looking back at him. She pressed her legs together and wiggled her ass.

He glared, slapping her ass. “Whore.” Another slap, to which she cried out, clawing at the window. “I said open your fucking legs.”

He kicked her legs open forcefully, spreading her cheeks and staring at her dripping cunt. She moaned as he massaged her skin, his thumb dipping to press against the tight opening of her ass.

He spat down on it, massaging gently before he bent his knees, guiding his cock back to her drenched heat.

She held back her pleasured cries as he fucked her, his skin slapping mercilessly against hers. His thumb played with her ass, watching as she moaned and flowered open to him. His to use.

“Good girl.” He praised. “Take me so fucking well. You love having my big dick fill you up, don’t you?”

She whimpered, rolling her hips back against her thrusts.

He slapped her side. “Don’t you?”

“Y‑Yes, Harry!”

He grabbed her by her throat, pulling her back while he kept fucking her. His lips found her ear, biting on the lobe.

“Call me daddy.” He growled. “Call me daddy and I’ll let you come again.”

She could feel the swirls of it blooming and she swore, her walls clenching around him.

“Please, daddy.” She whimpered, loving calling him something so naughty. “Please let me come.”

“You need daddy to rub your pretty little clit? Huh?”

“Fuck, please, yes I need it.” She gasped, her tits bouncing, drawing his attention to them. He played with her nipples. Twisting and tugging before his touch veered south, finding her clit with an expert touch.

She exploded around him, her body growing lax against him. He allowed her to melt onto the floor, not stopping his thrusts as he helped her through her orgasm. He screwed her on the ground, grunting animalistically in her ear.

They were sweaty messes, writing and naked on the floor as he took her, feral and obsessed. He lifted her ass up, taking her harder and harder, his hands gripped tightly onto her hips.

She clawed at the carpet beneath her, trying to hold onto anything that would keep her steady against his intense thrusts. The sheer power he had was astonishing.

He picked her up, sweeping knick-knacks and a lamp off a side table with a smash, throwing her against the newly cleared surface. Her chest was pressed against the cool wood, and he quickly began fucking her again.

Her knees betrayed her, and he spun her around, sitting her up on the side table. She wrapped her legs around his waist, their bodies pressed tightly together, sweaty and needy.

He pinned her back to the wall, his hand around her throat. They watched where they were connected before locking eyes, moaning before kissing with an intensity that made her toes curl.

He couldn’t get enough of her. His body was wound so tight with arousal, the feeling of finally having her driving him wild.

“Fuck,” he panted, “so fucking good.”

She purposely pulsed her cunt around him, his head going dizzy.

“St—god, you have to stop.”

The expression he wore was hardly an incentive to stop, and she did it more.

“Stop, stop.”

Pulling back, much to her dismay, voiced with a displeased moan, he stepped back from her. He grabbed his cock in his fist, playing with himself while she sat there watching. Desperately writhing, her chest heaving.

She whimpered as he fucked himself harder, the pleasure displayed clearly on his face. She shuffled forward a little, wanting to be the only form of bliss he felt.

He glared. “Did I say that you could move?”

“No, but—”

“Do as you’re told or I will come all over my hand while you watch.”

She bit her tongue, settling back into place with a pout. He chuckled lightly, his stomach tightening at the sight. He wanted to come so fucking bad but he wasn’t done with her.

“Get on all fours, pet.” He instructed, his fist still wrapped tight around himself.

She slowly lowered herself to the floor, on her knees in Infront of him before getting on her hands as well, on all fours just like he asked. He smiled proudly at her, watching her wait for the next instruction.

“I want you to crawl to the bedroom for me.” He purred. “Slowly.”

She bit her lip, hiding her smile, trying to remain unfazed. She did as he asked, just as she always had. Always wanting to impress him. He stalked behind her, watching the way her hips were shaped, watching how her ass swayed as she crawled, watching how her hair fell over her shoulders. She looked back to meet his eyes before picking up her pace a little.

He felt something spike in his bloodstream, and he ran after her, grunting as he picked her up and threw her onto the bed.

“You’re a fucking tease.” He chastised her as he followed. She crawled away, curled up at the top of the bed. “You want to run, pet?”

She shook her head, a mischievous smile lighting up her face as he narrowed his eyes.

“I better make sure you stay put.”

She watched as he went out to the lounge, fishing through his duffel bag before heading back to the bedroom. He began wringing a sage green tie between his hands, eyeing her.

He made his way towards her, gauging her expression. “Give me your hands.”

She did as she was told, mesmerised.

“Good girl.”

He tied her wrists up, not too tight, but tight enough that she wouldn’t slip out. Then he tied them to the white iron headboard, her arms stretched up. He couldn’t resist reaching down to bite and lick her nipples until she was whining and begging him to take her.

“You want this cock?” He shuffled forward until he was kneeling over her chest.

She nodded eagerly and he gripped the hair on top of her head. “Open your mouth. Taste your pussy on my cock before I give it to you again.”

She opened, her eyes fluttering when he pushed his dick into her mouth, all the way, not letting her adapt to his size. Just letting her taste him. Feel him.

“So pretty with your mouth full, aren’t you?”

She choked, her eyes prickling with tears that threatened to roll over before he pulled away. And then he was flipping her over, pulling her up onto her knees and elbows and fucking her so brutally that she feared the whole hotel would hear.

He made noises that were animalistic. Feral and unhinged. He fucked her so hard that neither of them could see straight. Hitting her so deep she could feel it in her throat.

He wasn’t sure he could last much longer, and he wanted to hold her. He moved her to her side, spooning behind her. He lifted her outer leg up, slipping his throbbing cock into her drenched heat with a deep, rolling moan.

His fingers found her clit again, and she reached back to kiss him messily. Their tongues met, wet and unashamed. He wanted her to come again, and his cock screwed into her relentlessly while he drew tight circles on her clit.

“Come for me.” He panted. “Please. I need it. Give me another one, all over my cock. You can do it, pet.”

She whimpered, her brow furrowed as he growled, taking her harder than he had all night. Her orgasm shattered her before she knew it was upon her.

She keeled forward, and he wound his arms around her to keep her steady while she came, crying out his name so loud that he had to give her two of his fingers to bite down on.

He swore at how tight she became when she climaxed, her walls pulsing and clenching around him. He fought to hold on, but his body was overworked and she felt so fucking good.

With a whine, he untied her hands and gently moved her onto her back, slipping inside of her with a long sigh. He took her, deep and slow and with a fluidity that had her legs shaking.

He wanted to come staring into her eyes. With her legs wrapped around his waist. His name was on her lips as he pounded into her relentlessly.

“Will you tease me again?” He asked her, his eyes searing.

“Yes.” She gasped out.

“You’re my little fuck toy.” He was a mess. “Mine to fuck and fill with my cum. Reward you for your hard work in my class. Make you come every time you pass.”

“All yours.” She breathed out, desperate to get him there. “I’m your dirty secret, professor.”

“Can’t fucking stand how you make me feel. Filthy fucking girl. Tell me you want my cum.”

“I want your cum, professor.”

“How bad do you want it?”

“I need it so bad. Please, fill me up with it.”

He growled out her name, burying his head in her neck and biting on the skin. His orgasm rocked through him, and he fucked her through it, not caring when she cried out in discomfort.

He wanted this. To fill her. Claim her. Stake his mark seeing as she’d sought after him. Teased him and poked until he gave in. He’d rip every one of those sundresses off her for a taste of how magical she was.

Like visiting all seven wonders of the world and discovering millions of new ones all at once.

***

I hope you enjoyed x

#harry styles #harry styles filth #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #hslot #harry styles fanfiction #hes #smut #hs

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virginburial · 3 months ago

Text

.·:*¨༺ cupid's girl. ♱ bob reynolds ༻¨*:·.

SUMMARY: in which a failed assassination attempt turns into something more

SHIP: afab!reader x Robert Reynolds WARNINGS: explicit content (minors stay out), unprotected p n v, and f receiving oral, sub!reader, bob can't pick between being a soft or hard dom, spittingggg??? also you hate bob's guts before he rearranges yours! #enemiestoloversfinalboss. random storytelling/porn with a plot. is this a self insert? i wish I knew. also btw you're from florida now :D!! TW FOR: mentions of murder/violence/self inflicted harm, grief, recovery/healing, ptsd related topics, mass violence mention.

WORD COUNT: 7K

SONG: cupid's girl by MARINA "Don't panic when it hits ╴shoot my arrow right into your back!"

A/N: well well well shawties... I've returned. This plot is a lil crazy but it made sense in my head so i wrote it. I haven't written smut in so long but i have been treated well since then so maybe this is better than my previous work ;) I'm having such a weird regression into my old fandoms so I might publish more work soon! as always, reblogs, comments, likes, and shares are greatly appreciated!

.·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

Quiet steps lingered down the hall as you got a handle on your bow, you knew your mission was only complete if he was taken down, and the last thing you wanted to do was betray Valentina. You were her favorite…which only started to click for you now. Of course you were. There’s no Valentines without cupid shooting arrows and manipulating the background. You were the baseline for The Sentry Project; a test dummy. And similar to the Sentry, you were the only one to survive. Valentina’s secret weapon. You were agile, quick, and seemingly docile and sweet.

To quote Valentina, directly; “she’s like if Sabrina Carpenter and Natasha Romanoff had passionate sex and scissored out their love child…that’s you, by the way.”

Of course, you didn’t harbor the same powers as Sentry, in fact, you were almost sure you were created to be the Eve in this situation. Some sidekick with the cute gift of emotionally manipulating the emotions of others, while also being a ruthless killer. You don’t emotionally manipulate others the way most people think off; sure, you bat your pretty lashes and you talk lightly and yes, occasionally, you play devil's advocate. However, you could feel and change the way others feel just by touching them. You know your hand to hand combat, but what's the point if you can just shake someone’s hand, hunt them, seduce them, and control someone so well that they do the job for you?

No bruises, busted lips, or bloody noses if you will someone to…well, you know.

It’s what made you so dangerous, and maybe, just as powerful as Valentina’s trophy. It’s also what made him such a good target for you. No need to take him down if you just shake his hand. You could feel the calmness around the room he stayed in, it was almost too calm. It was expected; Valentina just paraded him around and called him and his ragtime team of circle jerkers the “New Avengers”? New Avengers? The sentiment alone made you gag on envy. You hated that they got their flowers while you stayed put, while you obeyed, while you kept sweet. Sentry was just a glorified military weapon. You were the will of Eros and Sigmund Freud’s worst nightmare.

It should’ve been you.

And the fact that Valentina still wanted him gone, despite everything, made this operation all the more vital; promising you his spot, promising you everything you initially signed up for when you decided to go through the test trials for the Venus project; a better life. Not a life of suffering.

It was easy sneaking into where the Thunderbolts were staying at, in fact, you already ran into two members already; that fat oaf Red Guardian and the family dollar (and slightly closeted) Captain America, John Walker. It was easy to get them out of your way, the same way you got men to move out of your way your entire life. Staring up at them with your big eyes and pretending that you were doing the opposite of what you were actually doing; And maybe you did pat a couple shoulders here and made them less…on guard.

It didn’t matter, you weren’t here for them, you’re here for the poor man’s Homelander. Or whomever he really is. Despite having the same background, being from the same lab, you never once met him, or knew him beyond his project name. You knocked on the door, laying your weapon against the frame of the door as you straightened up. It was your time to shine. Your time to prove everyone wrong; dressed in a white blouse, a black skirt that was way above your knee, and knee high boots with tights underneath.

The door slightly opened, a small crack of light entering the room as curious, doe eyes peaked out behind the slab of wood that separated you from your most treasured victim. The plan was simple; fill him with the doubt, the rage, the sadness that he had before, and then some. Let him do the rest. It wouldn’t surprise anyone considering his history. You were a character assassin. However, the awkwardness filled the air with its stiffness. You could smell how anxious he got as it sept through every pore. Once he opened the door, you realized he was a lot more timid than previously mentioned. You almost thought you had the wrong guy.

“Um…can I help you?” He stammered.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you smiled. “Yes.” a soft hum leaves you. “Are you Robert Reynolds? I-I got sent here by Mel to do a room check.” you lied, even dropping a slight stutter to convey just how nervous the idea of this made you; even if it didn’t bug you at all. “I already checked in with the others, you were last on my list.”

He raised an eyebrow. “...Why couldn’t Mel do it?” he asked earnestly.

He already had you stumped, but you just shrugged. “She got promoted, so I'm the assistant’s assistant now…funny how life works, right?” you stared up into his eyes, you could practically hear his heart beating faster and faster the longer he made eye contact with you. Anxiety mixing in with curiosity, and a hint of attraction; oh, he was in for a rude awakening. He didn’t need to know that just yet. “So, are you gonna let me in?” you ask kindly.

He hesitated, you could see his jaw clenching–was that irritation? You didn’t care. The minute he stepped aside, you sauntered in, looking around at the bare room as your eyes went towards the nightstand. You slowly walk over as you open the drawers and rummaged through what was inside with only your eyes. “How come I’ve never seen you before?”

You snap over to him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I would have recognized you if you worked for Mel.. or Valentina, for that matter.” he leaned against the wall, looking down at the ground until his eyes met yours. You brushed it off with ease. “Was always more of a background actor.” you hummed as your fingers went to the other drawer. “Besides, I was away while everything was happening, just got back from a trip the minute you strolled in. I can't say I'm terribly inconvenienced by the suddenness of everything.” it was a white lie, you were inconvenienced.

he just nodded. “I mean…you’re a government worker.”

Yeah, and so are you; 1/4th of the military spending.

You clenched your jaw, releasing it as you turned your head, flashing a fake smile as you shut the drawers behind you. “You can say that, yeah.” we’ll agree to disagree for now. You sigh softly and look around. There wasn’t much else to check for your fake assignment, it was time to move onto the real one. You approached him. “You should hit up an Ikea or something, and soon, it’s kind of sad in here.” you joke lightly, feeling him slightly relax.

“Eh, I guess…I could fill it up with some things like a bean bag or a nice rug, maybe a couple of posters like a SlowDive one or maybe even an FSU one-”

General disgust hit your face, and you weren’t too keen on hiding it, and he noticed it right away. He furrowed his eyebrows, laughing nervously. “...what?”

“An FSU poster?” your voice winced softly.

Then it hits him, he takes a step back, and a smug look on his face replaces the timid one. “Are…are you from Florida too?” he questioned, and you shook your head, not to say no, that you’re not from Florida, but to say; “The Gators are so much better-” “-Ew, no.” he combated. “Let me guess, Orlando?” he joked softly. God, we really are in a sassy man apocalypse.

You scoffed. “Gross, I’m from Tampa.”

“Should’ve seen that coming.” he smiled softly. “You’re…a lot nicer than Mel and Valentina, despite your bad taste in college sports-” “-I’ll have you know, that the Gators have won multiple national championships, and I also root for the Bulls.” you cut off, then blush slightly. “Sorry…and thank you, Robert.” you stare up at him, and there it is again; Anxiety mixing in with curiosity, and a hint of attraction; a shot of attraction now, there might as well be a pint of it the next go around. The man looked down at her.

“I’m…Bob, by the way. No one calls me Robert.” He sticks his hand out.

The golden opportunity, you practically water at the mouth to get your hand over his. You didn’t want to make yourself look desperate to touch him; that’s always a little awkward. You wanted to give it such a good shake that you were able to send him on that spiral, without having to use that weapon you brought and stashed in his blindspot. So you grin, your manicured fingers slowly slithering over and interconnecting with his fingers, as power surged through you. It felt like a runners high, better than sex, better than taking back what’s yours. “Y/N”

You could see it actively working, the uncertainty that lingered on his face, yet, something else started to swallow you whole. You felt it run through you as everything turned black, and for a second, Bob was gone. He was the Sentry, after all, maybe you were the delusional one for thinking you could be as powerful as him. However, Valentina didn’t mention this. She didn’t mention this unwavering ability he had that made you feel utterly alone.

You felt yourself shift to a new plane of existence, your body now sitting as slight murmuring grew louder and more coherent. The smell of coffee and old books hit your senses like a gut punch, and fluorescent lights peaked through your thin eyelids and lashes. Your clothes were the same, yet everything was different. When your eyes opened, you noticed yourself sitting in a group with people you wouldn't believe you were seeing. Because they were your classmates. Because it’s been years. Because..they’re all dead. The monotone voice was your teacher. She was dead. The clock struck 2:15, and stayed that way after that day. You were strapped to your seat, an adult, seeing your teenage pupils panic to news over the intercom.

Stuck to your seat, you watched them scramble to barricade doors. Stuck to your seat, you watch them arm themselves with textbooks and chairs. Stuck to your seat, you watched as everything failed, and each life got ripped away from you, the way you couldn’t have seen back then when you played dead. This was what you were escaping. This is the promise Valentina failed at keeping; having to see it play out over and over again; until you realized you could move. You could always move.

You try to run to the door, swinging it open and seeing yourself and Valentina going over your own project. Before you could run to your salvation, you see Bob on the other side of the classroom, staring at you in horror.

You snap back to reality, stumbling back as tears reach the rims of your eyes. You were on the verge of hyperventilating as your legs shook, holding onto the edge of the bed frame. Your knees cowering as you look down at the floor. Bob puts his hands up, almost as shocked as you are. As your mind racks with the idea of how your powers failed you here, Bob stares at you.

“I know what you are…” he says sternly, his jaw tensing up as he keeps his gaze. “Project Venus?” he asked.

You try to calm down, your breaths slowing down slowly as your eyes finally meet him. You neither confirm or deny. “...Project Sentry.” you grit. You see him slowly put his hands down. “Valentina told me that everyone from Project Venus died…” you watch as he connects the dots as to why you were kept in the dark for so long. Before he had time to process the possible failed assaination by proxy attempt, you ran to hit, backhanding him, distracting him, before kneeing him in the stomach.

He groaned, annoyed, and before you could land another punch, he grabbed your wrist; holding it tightly as you tried to snatch it away. “I’m not gonna fight you-” “-bullshit, if you know me, and what I can do, then you know why I’m here-” “-it doesn’t work, and that’s why you were scrapped, now stop before you sprain something-rob” you didn’t listen, you kicked him and pushed him out of the way, running to the door and grabbing the bow, and aiming it at him.

“God, what the fuck, Stop!” He holds his hands up.

“What did you do to me?” you barked. “How did you-” your voice shook as Bob shook his head. “Look, it’s clear that Valentina fucked us both. Okay? You-You have every reason to be upset! She didn’t care about you then and doesn't now either. She probably sent you here to be killed just-just-put the fucking bow down, please!” he pleaded. “Please don’t make me hurt you more than I already have-”

“Oh shut up!” you raised your voice over his. “I was supposed to be you! I signed over my entire life to be as great as you and you stole that from me, you stole my life…” your tears ran down your cheeks. “You stole my life, and I'm gonna get it back!”

“I didn’t steal your life.” he snapped. “Valentina did. That man who did that to your friends back in high school did.” he huffed out as he dropped his hands. “God, Y/N, what was the plan here? You ‘infect’ me with depression until I kill myself? Do you know anything about me outside of me being the Sentry?” he stared in bewilderment. “Valentina used just about everyone in this building, you’re not alone.”

Your hands shake as you hold the bow, and you start to realize that you never shot the bow before, and that you’ve always cruised simply by using your powers. Bob saunters over, his hands reaching towards her bow and lowering it. “There’s…nothing you can do that I haven't already done to myself.” he admits. “Please stop, before you hurt yourself.”

You’re enraged, and you want to do everything you can to regain control, but there’s no use. You throw your weapon on the ground, drying up your own tears as you sniffle softly. “Did you learn all that after singing kumbaya with Red Room Barbie and her fucking friends?!” you spat. Bob just nods. “I don’t know, have you ever considered that maybe you could use your powers to help people? Instead of hurting them?” he barked back. “You know how much time you could save if you healed people instead of, I don’t know, inducing suicide–Can you stop fighting with me for a second.”

You hate that he’s right. “If i started with you, we’d be here all night. You have enough personalities to keep me completely occupied.”

“Now that’s a low blow.”

You both just stare at each other, staying silent for a second as you sigh. “Why didn’t my powers work on you?” you were dying to know, even if it meant knowing that you were a failure, and you were meant to be scrapped.

Bob shrugged. “I don’t know. I wish I could tell you.” he sincerely said. “Maybe instead of filling a…whatever I am with depressive thoughts, have you considered filling me up with happy thoughts? Let me live like that for a bit and then come back to take it from me? Maybe I'll do what you want then.” he muttered that last part under his breath.

“Are you seriously giving me tips on how to kill you more efficiently?”

“I don’t know anymore, Y/N. This is awkward–I’m feeling awkward, in case you can’t tell.” he stared into your eyes. “You know why your trial was called Project Venus, Y/N? It’s because Valentina wanted to make a-a seductress who was an assassin. A whole…Killing Eve situation.” he critiqued. “You put the super serum in Steve Rodgers, you get Captain America. You put the super serum in me, you-you get a clusterfuck of problems. But if you give it to a people pleaser? you get an emotional manipulator…”

You had enough. “You know what? Fuck you, Sentry.” you pick up your bow, not drawing anything, but holding it, just ready to leave this all in the past. “If there’s nothing I can do that you ‘haven’t already done to yourself’ then my work here is done. You’re the ticking time bomb. Not me.” you spat, only to feel what you felt earlier again; the anxiousness, now masked with annoyance and anger, the curiosity, the attraction skipped the pint size, and the pitcher, and the gallon, it jumped two gallons three. Four. Five. You didn’t care, though. He kept pissing you off.

“You aren’t gonna try?” he asked.

You groaned and turned around. “Jesus christ, Bob. What would make you happy, huh?” you bellowed. “A puppy? A girl? FSU actually winning something?”

Bob sighed. “All I know is that we came from the same lab, and we’re both the only survivors. It’s not a fluke. If you truly want to know why your powers didn’t work on me, then I'm telling you that you’re using them wrong.” he looked down at your hand. “Put it on my chest, make me think of something good. Valentina sent you here to die…prove her wrong.” he earnestly suggested. “I was able to prove her wrong, so were the Thunderbolts.”

You hated that this might be the reason why it didn’t work on him. Maybe he was already filled with such darkness, that filling him with more, oversaturating the inevitable, it was never going to work. The public knew about Project Sentry, but not Project Venus. It made sense as to why you’d never be in the picture. It was a losing game. It was always a losing game. Reluctantly, yet, willingly, you dropped your bow and placed your hand on his chest. Oh… there had to be a rock underneath his sweatshirt…was it always this tight? Didn’t matter, you tried to focus on something that would make anyone feel good. Chocolate, a good cry, ten hours of sleep. Something.

Bob looks at your hand, then down at your face, studying every feature. Your hand glows a soft pink, your eyes moving underneath your eyelids as you try to change his demeanor. You just sigh and pull away. “This is stupid-” “-maybe.” he muttered. Looking up at him, you realized how close you two were to each other. “All I can feel is how much I annoy you and stress you out.” his heart beats faster, the blood rushes to his face, and you felt all of that too, you just didn’t want to entertain that possibility. “Can also feel how bad you want me.”

Bob’s cheeks turned a dark shade of pink, he furrowed his eyebrows. “Well, Cupid’s Girl. at least you didn’t force me to feel that.” he looked down.

Your breath hitches slightly, but you shake your head at the idea of it. “I’m not dealing with this-”

“I’m just trying to help you see that you don’t have to follow her orders anymore.” He gulped softly, staring into your eyes. “None of us do. Actually, the last thing I want is to see another person like me be under her thumb-”

“-I’m nothing like you.”

“Bullshit.” he said softly. “Traumatized Floridian escapes pain by signing up for a trial, instead of going to therapy, they become the sole survivor of said trial and, under Valentina De Fontaine’s thumb, they become her own personal weapon…Sounds familiar?” you couldn’t escape from the similarities after he put it into words. You just sigh, opening up your mouth to say something, but Bob cuts you off. “I mean, we own her. Don’t you want that? It doesn’t drain you to do her bidding every now and again?”

Damn it. You just look down, but feel his hand slowly raise to your cheek. He was right. Part of you hated how something as beautiful as being an empath, emotionally attuned, as turned into some cheap party trick to make top scientists and government officials leave the world behind without a single thought. There was a time you wanted to help others. You figured after you learned what you could do, you could help yourself. It doesn’t work on you, but you wished it did. You felt Bob’s thumb run across your cheek, feeling his anxiety tremble once the both of you locked eyes. “...you’ll never have to force anyone to do anything awful ever again, you won’t even have to force them to love you.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Bob just gazed into your eyes, trailing along your soft features as his eyes fluttered down to your lips. Oh, because I didn’t have to force you to want to help me. I didn’t have to force you to see me as more than just a potential enemy. His eyes flicker back up to yours. He wants to say more, maybe even show you exactly what he means. He’s too anxious, too awkward, too nice, while also flooding with some sick desire to have his way with you. The air between the two of you gets thick. The same way it did when he first opened the door, except now the playing field has flipped itself on its head. You stare down at your hands, and so does he, before his eyes find yours again. It’s almost like he’s signaling you on what to do.

Your hand slowly reached his chest, but before you could make him feel anything, he mustered up the courage and grabbed your chin, slowly bringing it over to him as he kissed you softly. Maybe he just wanted you to touch him, not to make him feel anything he doesn’t already feel, but to reassure him that he wanted to feel you and only you. You feel him relax into you, all the anxiety and curiosity quieting down as you gently kiss back, bumping noses and heavy breaths as the kiss deepens. One hand shakily goes to your waist as he uses the other to slowly shut the door behind him.

You weren’t expecting this, and part of you wasn’t sure if this is something that should happen, but once you both pulled away, your lips chased each other again; like magnets trying to find their polar opposite. You felt his grip on your waist slowly tighten, almost scared he’d break you if he grabbed too roughly too soon. Your arms find themselves around his neck as you feel your body get warm with need, way too soon to be feeling like that until your tongues accidentally brush past each other; then it was game on for the both of you.

He feverishly kissed you as his grip on you strengthened, a small huff leaving him as you felt yourself gravitate to him. Feeling his knee slowly slip between your thighs, it was all too convenient. His hand grappling to the back of your neck as he pulled you in more; like he was some needy vampire and you were a blood bag with his name written all over it. His hand on your waist slid over to your lower back as he pulled you more into him, as if you could fade into him, as if he wanted you all to himself. And who were you to deny him of that? Especially if you just started to feel yourself dampen, and wanting nothing more than to get rid of the chaste feeling of not knowing what to do, and wanting something more so bad.

Alchemizing the hate into passion was something you never thought you could do for yourself. Your hate for Sentry turned into wanting nothing more than to show him just how deeply you felt about him, how deeply you felt for him. The kissing picked up more and more, until teeth started clashing and the both of you started running out of breath. You pull away, breathing heavily and almost mumbling against his lips. “Bob-” oh god, you can’t believe you were getting hot and heavy over someone who willingly goes by the name ‘Bob’.

He whines softly after he stops chasing your lips for more kisses, you can feel the heat radiating off of him like a space heater. His fingers run through your hair, as he huffs gently. “Sweetheart…” he hoarsely said, his voice dripping in desperation as his thumb slowly ran across your bottom lip. He couldn’t believe that you’d let him get this far with you. “You stress me out.” he chuckles softly. And it turns you on. you think to yourself as he leaves soft kisses on the corners of your mouth. “Picking a fight with me just to…” his mind lingers on the idea of having you in his arms the way he has you now. He loves hearing your heartbeat speed up with such a slight or sudden move, and you realize you’re not the only one who can hear hearts too.

He softly kisses you for a split second, before leaning his forehead against yours. “Please?” he asked tenderly against your lips. You nearly squeeze your thighs around his knee at the idea of him touching you without it whisking you away to some twilight zone. This could be a sweet dream instead of some awful nightmare, one you deprived yourself of since the trial. “Please I wa-want…” he chokes up, before you nod your head and reciprocate the kiss from earlier; short and sweet. You felt him smirk against your lips as he gently pushed you back up against the bed.

The bed is plush, and soft; it’s a stark contrast compared to the surprising pair of abs underneath Bob’s shirt. He eagerly attaches his lips to your neck, taking a deep breath and smelling the sultry perfume and the vanilla shampoo that you lather your hair in each night. Your skin is the softest thing he’s ever touched, and he misses it more and more each time he pulls away from you. “So..fucking pretty.” he mumbles to himself as his lips trail down to your collarbone, your blouse getting in the way of everything he wants.

Your breathing speeds up softly as his hands fidget with the buttons of your blouse, you can feel him have some semblance of self control, and how close he was with throwing it out the window just to have you. God, you can feel the self constraint. He was strong enough to rip your clothes off with one tug, but the last thing he wanted was for this to be shorter than he wanted it to be, even if he wanted nothing more than to dive into you. The more buttons he unclasps, and the more skin he sees underneath, the harder you feel him get. It was right up against your thigh, and all you wanted was to feel it break you in.

He breathes out a soft ‘fuck’ as his eyes wander onto yours, almost pleading for permission to strip you from the rest; please let me undress you, let me tear this off of you, let me have you. You could feel yourself getting more and more wet with each passing second. The way his hands slowly went over to your inner thigh and softly stroke his thumb closer and closer to your core was just the tip of the iceberg. He slowly leans forward, leaving another kiss on your plump and chapped lips. He stares down at you. “I need to taste you…please?” his voice becomes rash, strained, restricting himself so he doesn't go crazy needing you.

“You wanna taste me?” your voice is tainted with the desire to assume control, because he sounded so pathetic for you. He nods like a puppy, nearly salivating from the mouth like one too. “You wanna taste how fucking sweet I am for you?” you reiterate, feeling his thumb slowly slide between your clothed crotch, feeling how damp your tights were, knowing your panties had been lined with how sweet and wet you are.

He blushes at your words. “That…mouth of yours.” he raspily voiced, and before you knew it, the self restraint he could have prided himself on melted away. He pulls your hips down, taking your black miniskirt with you and unzipping your boots in the process as well. You can’t help but let out a soft laugh. “Someone’s eager-” you hum before a gasp leaves you, because before you knew it, he had ripped your stockings; tears lining down your leg as he leaned down. God your panties were cute, and you weren't even planning on this happening. Lucky you.

He leaned down and gently kissed your clothed clit, a shiver went down your spine as tender whines left your parted lips, and the more noise you made, the more Bob kissed and rubbed and sucked on your panties. The friction makes you more and more desperate. You then felt Bob slowly slide that strip of soaked fabric to the side, spitting on your clit before ravenously lapping his tongue over your sensitive, throbbing nub.

A moan rips from your throat as you toss your head back, feeling your back start to sweat with anticipation as he buries himself more into your cunt. His arms wrapping around your thighs as he forces you down on his tongue. If there was a heaven, this was it; getting endlessly eaten out by someone you tried fist fighting with earlier. You feel your stomach churn with excitement as he drinks out of you, instantly getting drunk off of you, and muttering helplessly against your clit; “god so sweet–so fuckin’ sweet–sound so pretty” intercutting with a few moans and swear words. You relished in how weak he was for you. “Fuck, Bob!”

Just the single mention of his name made him speed up, sucking on you as his tongue gently continued to savor every last drop of you. You’d squeeze your thighs around his head, and he forced them back open. If you wanted, he could stay like that for hours; tongue deep into you while prying your shaky legs open. He wanted to stay like that, until your moans became higher in pitch, and more airy in tone.

His eyes searched for yours, and the way he was looking up at you made it impossible for you to look away or not beg for more. Before you had the chance to, his fingers slowly slid into you, causing your back to arch since there was no sign of him ever slowing down his tongue. Moans spilled out of you as your wetness leaked all over your ripped stockings; dribbling down Bob’s chin and making him even more privy to what you liked, what you wanted, what you needed.

If he was drunk on your juices, then you were equally as drunk as him on his motions. You became a bumbling mess, and he hasn’t even stuck himself in you just yet. “Ohmygod.” you mumbled as more moans got caught up in your throat. You felt the urge in your stomach, blood rushing more and more to your groin as you whimpered. “Just…breaking…you…in” he muttered against your clit, a low hum escaping him as his fingers rapidly entered you, leaving you, entering again, and feeling it overwhelm you.

“God-so close!” you whined as he sped up. He huffed out a small laugh, continuing to work on your clit as his fingers curled inside of you, pressing into that soft spot none of your past partners could reach. A small squeal left you as your legs shook with desire. Grabbing a pillow and holding it to your mouth, you came all over his tongue, and you watched as he licked up everything he could get out of you. Your muffled moans were music to his ears, as he pulled himself up, grabbing the pillow from you and engulfing you in another kiss.

Tasting how sweet you were, how tart it was on his tongue, and how it ran down his neck; you grabbed his face and pulled him away from your lips. He kept on wanting to kiss you, pouting when he couldn’t. You tried to catch your breath before feeling him slide off his sweatpants, exposing his boxers and the giant bulge he was sporting. You could see it throb as he looked into your eyes. “Please Sweetheart…” he begged. “I wanna feel how soft and warm you are for me please.” his voice strained as he looked into your eyes.

You nod, eagerly pulling off his underwear with him and staring at his cock. Your cheeks, as if they weren’t red already, turned crimson at the idea of him splitting you in half with his member, already dripping in precum. Your hand slowly goes over and wraps around him delicately, seeing a shiver run through him as he grabs a chunk of your hair and pulls you up just to kiss you, then softly letting go and slowly going back down with your lips still attached to each other. A soft moan passes his lips, which are red and plump from the excessive kissing. He teases your entrance. “Sweet thing…” he whispers before placing a soft kiss next to your lips. “Good girl” he hums as he slowly slips himself in you; whimpering the deeper he went

A gasp leaves you as you try to adjust to his length; you weren’t expecting it to make you feel so stuffed already, and it wasn’t even fully in you just yet. “Oh fuck…fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-” it all spills out you as Bob chuckles weakly, trying to keep himself together under the amount of pleasure he was feeling. He almost couldn’t think straight with how tight you were around him. How perfectly your cunt sucked him in; like you were both designed for each other. “So-so fuckin’ pretty when you swear-makin’ pretty noises for me.” he musters out before his hips finally react, finally slamming into you in a repeated fashion that’s just…perfect.

A loud squeal left you, and his hand flies to your mouth as he keeps you quiet; clasping so hard around your jaw that the pain alone makes you cry out for him. Yet, it was overwhelmed by the feeling of him fucking you the way you were meant to be fucked. Your body jolts with each movement as cries spill out from the crevices of his hands. “My sweet fuckin’ girl…” he nearly growls, loving the way you were getting worked up for him; but also getting worked up over you himself. He moves his hand away from your mouth and kisses you softly; god, he had to be addicted to your lips.

You took this opportunity to express just how good he was making you feel. You knew others were going to hear you anyway. “God-fuck you fit so well in me i-it-s just perfect for you!” your voice wavered, coated in pleasure, feeling him pick up the pace. “I fucking-love-it when you fuck me like this I deserve to get fucked out-” you cry, looking into his eyes.

He slows down, almost to get back at you for all the trouble you put him through earlier. “Never expected something so nasty to come out of those pretty lips of yours…”

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it, Sentry?” You challenged.

You could see his eyes bristle with power as he grabs you and flips you over, forcing your head down into a pillow and holding your hips up as he slams into you; not caring about how rough he was being. You scream with pleasure as your arms try to hold you up, but the pressure of taking him in this position forces your face back down on the pillow. You whine and swear and cry out, but it’s muffled underneath all the pillows. His grip on your thighs holds you in place; you could’ve almost collapsed with how bad your legs were shaking.

“Yeah?” he grunted. “That’s what I'm gonna do.” He murmured hoarsely, trying to keep his control for just a second longer so he could enjoy you, but he’s been close to cuming the minute you put your hands on him. He grabs your hair and pulls your head up; forcing you to take his cock deeper and deeper as he tries to whisper in your ear; “shut you up, sweetheart.” he declared as he let you flop back onto the pillow. He stops thinking about being gentlemanly, and more about how to make you cum for him a second time. He could fuck you for hours until you came if it came down to it.

Your screams and cries and coherent thoughts turned into a jumbled up pile of words, as you drooled onto the pillow; hair sticking to your face as Bob continued to unapologetically thrust against your cervix. It didn’t matter how nervous he was at the beginning, you had him right where you wanted him; helplessly plunging into you and whimpering with each jab. Feeling him rub against your clit with the speed he was going was sending you into a frenzy, causing your thighs to tremble more and more. “What was that, sweetheart?” he slightly smirked as more and more of your muddled moans sept through the fabric of the pillow.

“You…yes…fuck…so…good.” you cried out aimlessly.

Bob’s breath shook as he sped up. “Sweet, dumb, thing.” he groaned with each lunge into your cunt. “Good…handsome…boy…fuck!!” you whimpered out as Bob felt his stomach churn with excitement. He didn’t care to slow down, the last thing he wanted was to ruin the moment just to catch his breath. Why do that, when he can finally release the tension he’s felt since laying eyes on you? He groans at the idea of cuming in you, filling you up and making you his. God, he wanted you to be his so badly. He doubted it, but he wanted you every day of the week.

Sooner rather than later, he felt his own thighs shake. His hands climbed from your hips to your waist, pulling you deeper and closer as he groaned loudly. “Holy fuck…” you felt his cock seize inside of you, twitching every time you squeeze your walls around his member, and every time you did, he’d suck his breath and try to move. He couldn’t take it anymore, he quickly pulled out and pressed his tip against your raw and sensitive clit. He came on your clit, watching his semen roll down your cunt and veer off onto your inner thighs as your hips finally lower themselves.

Bob flops onto the bed and tries to catch his breath. His eyes still glowing as he huffs out in exhaustion, he looks over at you and smiles weakly. “You look…so cute when you’re tired.” he joked lightly.

You face him, blowing a piece of hair away from your face and blushing at the thought of Bob being one of the only people who’s ever seen you this tired. You kept to yourself up until now, and now knowing that someone has seen you all dazed and fucked out turned from an insecurity to something to be celebrated. You reciprocate the same smile. “Well…it’s not every day I get dicked down by someone I was supposed to…” you cringe at the thought of why you came here earlier. “So..this team you’re a part of…”

“The Thunderbolts?”

You nodded. “They…didn’t judge you? Like, at all?”

Bob stops for a second, then shakes his head. “No…you don’t even have to fight, Y/N, I just…don’t want Valentina to hurt you the way she’s hurt me or the others. No one deserves to feel that alone.” he looks into her eyes. “You have something that can…change the world. You always took care of Valentina’s problems, always took care of her. But..who takes care of you?” he asked with genuine concern.

He was right. No one did. But maybe here there could be companionship, support, trust, everything you ran away from before Valentina, because you thought it was no help to you; and only got worse with Valentina sending you on pointless missions. Maybe you were done being under her thumb just like how Bob was, and the others were as well. Maybe it was time for you to forge your own path–talk about some serious post-nut clarity, but at least you have it now and not down the line when it eventually gets worse. If you wanted there to finally be someone who cared for you…why not have it be Bob? If he wanted to hurt you, he would have already.

Your eyes stay on his, as his hand slithered to yours; no ominous black shadows included, or horrible memories that already plagued your mind; just a true alliance, an unadulterated connection (despite how smudged your makeup is and how red Bob was) and all the mess that came with it. “What do you say, Cupid’s girl?” and with a soft breath, you nod, giving him a resounding yes. He nearly leans in to kiss you, but you stop him. He pulls away and raises an eyebrow. “What? We’re team members now so we can’t kiss?” he asked, but you shake your head. He furrowed his eyebrows. “Then what is it?”

“…Cupid’s girl is not my hero name.”

.·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

buy me a coffee ૮⸝⸝> ̫ >⸝ ა

806 notes · View notes

witchesverse · 11 months ago

Text

run away, toy.

pairing: dark!wandanat x fem!reader

summary: you don't know how long they've kept you as their toy, but you decided it was time to escape again. what a big mistake.

content: dark/abusive themes, choking with magic, being kept in a cage, stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, chasing, hair pulling, heavy manipulation, dubcon, strap-on sex, anal, overstim.

masterlist

You cringed at the loud slaps your bare feet made against the wet concrete. You were trying to be subtle, but obviously were failing at that. Your breathing was ragged, and your legs were burning. You wanted to slow down but you knew that if you did, Wanda and Natasha would be on you immediately.

You turned a corner and felt your heart drop. You ran into a fucking alley way. A dead end.

No, no, no.

You turned around, hoping you had enough time to escape but you didn’t.

Her red eyes shone in the dark.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You couldn’t see where the assassin was, but you knew she was near. It honestly surprised you Natasha didn’t get to you first. She has the proper training for hunting.

“Wan- “

You felt your throat constrict and you gasped for air. Your clawed at your throat and your knees buckled. Your vision started to fade.

Wanda silently stalked towards you, with each step, her boots echoed in the empty alley way. She stood over you with a disappointed look on her face.

Then everything went black.

●・○・●・○・●

You woke with a gasp, immediately sitting upwards and hitting your head on something metal. You look upwards and sigh. You’re in your cage again.

“Of course, I’m sure.”

You shudder at the sound of the familiar voice. Carol Danvers.

The blackout blanket around your cage makes it impossible to see anything, but you recognise her voice.

You mean, how could you forget?

The blackout blanket is suddenly ripped off your cage, and you’re left squinting and blinking as your eyes adjust to the bright lights. Wanda and Carol were sitting around a table, holding no doubt, coffee in their hands. Natasha stood in front of you, unlocking the cage before grabbing you by the hair and pulling you out.

You huffed as your lifted to your feet and shoved towards Wanda. You awkwardly stood in front of Wanda with your hands behind your back, just how she likes it.

Carol took this as her cue to leave.

“I’ll see both of you soon.” She smiled at Wanda and Natasha “I’ve left Valkyrie alone for too long.”

Wanda didn’t look away from you nor did she respond to Carol. Natasha did for her, wishing her a safe travel.

The moment you heard the door click and lock, you moved backwards.

You don’t get far before Natasha wraps her arm around your chest, constricting your arms and holding you to her chest.

Wanda stood, her emotionless face finally breaking.

“Do you even know what you caused?” Wanda hissed “Running around the city naked like some idiot. People saw you, and Carol had to kill them. Do you enjoy knowing that innocent people are dead because of your foolishness?”

You shook your head, already feeling the tears forming in your eyes. You wanted to believe Wanda was lying, but she doesn’t lie.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you- “

“Don’t fucking speak!”

You flinched.

“We give you a perfect life here, yet you still decide to be selfish.” Wanda was close enough to your face that you could feel her breath fanning across your lips.

Natasha's grip tightened as you tried to wiggle away.

“Should we just throw you away? Go find another toy to love?” Wanda questioned.

You shook your head, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. You don’t understand why you disagreed with her. You had just escaped home to get away from Wanda and Natasha, and now that they were offering you another escape, you denied it.

“I’m done with you,” She scoffed “Natasha deal with her and come see me when you’re done.”

That’s when the tears fall. Rejection.

Wanda walked out of the room, leaving you alone with Natasha.

Natasha shoved you into the couch. Positioning your face to be buried in pillows and your ass in the air. She pressed down on your back, forcing you to form into the perfect arch.

“Nat,” You sniffled.

She doesn’t respond.

“Please, say something.”

Nothing.

You heard the zipping of her pants and something cold press against your ass.

“Natty?”

Silence.

Your sniffles slowly turned into soft cries as you felt the tip of her lubed strap press into you. The stretch burned and she didn’t let you adjust before she pushed her full length into you.

Her hands pulled your hips into her tummy, keeping you secure. She lent down and you moaned at the movement.

“Beg for me not to fuck you.”

You whimpered.

She's such a sick fuck.

“Please, don’t. I don’t want it today, please.”

Natasha slowly thrusted into you, forcing your hips to slam back down. It hurt so fucking bad, and you loved it.

All that could be heard were your loud moans and the wet noises of Natasha’s strap drilling into you.

The pain subsided and bursts of pleasure shot through your body. You swore you could feel Natasha in your stomach from how deep she was. It was almost overwhelming.

Natasha dug her nails into your hips, creating crescent-moon marks. She occasionally slapped your thighs, knowing that’s where it hurt the most.

It didn’t take long for you to get close, and Natasha knew it. She basically knew your body like it was the back of her hand.

Her fingers reached down and rubbed your clit in tight, small circles, electing a loud moan from you. She used her spare hand to grab onto your hair, pulling you upwards so your back was against her chest.

The sudden change in positions forced you over the edge. Your vision speckled white and your back arched.

You cried out in pleasure and pain as overstimulation quickly took place. You tried pushing Natasha away from you, but she didn’t move. She continued to pound into you and rub your clit.

“Stop, stop. Please, it’s gonna hurt.”

She refused. It didn’t take long for your second, third, and finally fourth orgasm to be pulled from you.

Natasha let you slump into the couch, pulling her strap from your arse. Tears continued to fall down your face from the overstimulation and regret.

“Is Wanda mad at me?” You whispered, staring at the wall behind Natasha.

Natasha rolled her eyes, “That’s a stupid question.”

You sniffled and watched Natasha leave the room. You were cold but too tired to find a blanket to wrap around your body. You wanted to sleep and pretend that today didn’t happen.

You thought it had been around five months since your last attempt to escape. You weren’t sure, though; time is different with Wanda and Natasha. They removed the clocks from the apartment and refused to tell you the date or time.

You knew Wanda was mad at you, Natasha too. You figured you would have to make it up to them, but you didn’t know how. You had never seen Wanda so angry before.

You had to find a way to make her forgive you.

#wandanat x reader #wandanat x you #wandanat x y/n #wandanat #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat smut #bluewrites

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imawreck · 7 months ago

Text

Darkness

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader

Summary: You're left with flushed cheeks and a shared secret with the darkest part of Bucky Barnes... and you want more.

Author's Note: You guys fucking DEVOURED the last one so this is the sequel to the previous part, His. It makes more sense if you read the other first! If you like this content, drop a comment or an ask and I'll be sure to write more like it in the future! It gets a little feral and I won't apologize for it. Also, there is possibly a part three on the table if this ship sails like the last.

Warnings: Choking kink, metal arm kink, Cursing, mentions self loathing/guilt (it’s Bucky, kinda normal), Possessive!Winter Soldier, hair pulling, fingering, Dominant!Winter Soldier, hickeys, bruising, PnV, praise kink if you squint, licking, oral (fem receiving), knife play (?) and probably some more but those are the big ones.

Word Count: 6,899

It had been two days.

Two days since you’d tried and failed to lure the Winter Soldier into a cell. Two days since you’d felt his hands on your body.

Two days since he’d given you a taste of what you could have.

He’d left his mark on more than just your skin. Though bruises and love bites littered your neck, it was your mind that he’d left the most impact on.

There was hardly a moment you weren’t thinking about him, about Winter. About what would’ve happened if the agents hadn’t stormed the stairwell. If he’d been able to keep going.

And you wondered if you’d ever get another chance to see.

Bucky had recovered, his mind once more his own. You didn’t know if he remembered, or if he would say anything to you even if he did. It’d been radio silence from everyone in the tower other than Steve, who’d been checking in on you to make sure you were really alright. You were sure Thor would be here hounding you if he was on the planet too.

Apparently, the earpiece had fallen out a little after he’d cornered you. So Steve and whoever else that was watching over you didn’t hear much of the conversation you’d exchanged with the assassin. They’d had to rely on the cameras, which hadn’t been able to see you past the wall of a man caging you between his arms.

Which means none of them had seen what had happened, that this was something only you carried the knowledge of. A small part of you was relieved.

That still left one question unanswered: Did Bucky remember?

A sharp knock jolted you from your thoughts, dragging you back to the present.

Blowing out a breath, you got up and headed towards the door. “Steve, I told you I’m fine. I—“

But when you opened the door, it wasn’t Steve on the other side.

It was strange how different those blue eyes were when it was Bucky at the wheel instead of Winter. Lively, pooling with emotion where you’d seen cold calculation and unbridled lust just days before.

It was guilt swimming in those eyes now, red rimmed and bloodshot. His dark hair was disheveled like he’d been running his fingers through it all afternoon, and he wore a loose pair of sweats and a black long sleeve despite the summer heat.

He looked scared and out of place standing in the hall.

“I—uh, hey.” A poor attempted smile wobbled onto his face, and he brought his flesh hand up to run through his hair—a nervous habit he had when he was uncomfortable or anxious — just like you’d guessed. “Can we talk?”

You opened your mouth to answer him but no words left it. You could only stare up at him and nod, feet shuffling back to pull the door open further.

Bucky’s frame squeezed through the door and he padded further into your space with wandering eyes and furrowed brows.

It was impossible not to notice the changes you’d made in the last few months since your breakup. Bucky used to frequently stay with you, favoring your bright and comforting space over his own empty room. You liked your knick-knacks, and you were a sucker for creature comforts so you always had the softest blankets and the fluffiest pillows. And you’d always made sure Bucky had things he liked in your space.

You used to keep his favorite coffee stocked in the mini breakfast bar you’d made on a bar cart, and his favorite pillow and throw blanket was always neatly folded in the armchair by the window. You’d even set out copies of his favorite books in case he wanted to relax in your room instead of the commons area or his own space.

But now it was gone. The little pieces of him you’d made room for were removed along with the photos that used to line your walls and bookcase. Save for the one, of course.

And it stung to see the reality of what he’d done, the choice he’d made now reflected in the absence of everything he’d built with you.

He pried his eyes away from the empty shelves of your bookcase and glanced back at you, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “I… Steve said that I went after you when I got back.”

His statement hung in the air for a few seconds, silence crowding you both and making him tense his shoulders the longer it remained.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, “I can’t imagine how awful that was for you. I-I never wanted you to see me like that. That- He’s not me, okay? God, I’m so sorry.” His fingers scraped over his scalp as he clenched his teeth, turning away and pacing a few steps.

Bucky couldn’t look at you, not after what he’d done. What he’d forced you to witness. He’d never wanted you to see him like that. It was one of his worst nightmares when you had been dating, and now it was a brutal reality.

“Bucky,” you started, but he cut you off.

“Did I hurt you? Did… did I do something to you?”

It struck you then that he didn’t remember what he’d done. What Winter had done. And your room was too dark at the moment to see what remained painted on your skin from the encounter.

You were both relieved, and utterly frustrated. Now what do you do? ‘Oh yeah, Bucky! I let you finger me with your metal arm in a stairwell for shits and giggles while you were all killer mode. No biggie.’ And then what, ask for him to do it again?

Yeah, definitely not.

“You didn’t hurt me, Bucky.” Your legs moved on their own accord, drawn forward by his obvious distress and the instinctual need to sooth his worries. “I’m fine, really.”

Bucky finally turned to face you, his eyes filled with sorrow. He chewed his cheek, his eyes searching your face for any hint of a lie. “I can't remember what happened, there's just glimpses.” His voice lowered, softened by the weight of his words and the fear woven in his tone. “But I can feel him. Stronger than before. Something’s different this time.”

You stilled at that, eyes glued to the side of his face.

“I can feel what he felt. I-it's like he’s just behind a curtain.” His right arm came up, his index finger tapping his temple, “Waiting.”

The haunted look in his eyes twisted a knife of guilt in your gut. You didn’t want him to feel guilty for what had happened, but it was unfortunately normal for Bucky. You understood it, respected his boundaries and his need to do anything he could to keep you safe. But you wanted exactly what he was keeping from you.

You wanted it so badly.

Could you tell him? Could you confide in him this secret you’d kept from lovers in the past? Something so twisted that you’d only shared it with someone equally as sadistic as you were flawed? Bucky was so much more important to you than any of them had been. You… you felt deeply for him. And it was obvious that the unknown was weighing on him heavily.

One more look at his shattered expression gave you your answer.

With a frustrated huff, you reached for his hand. You tugged it from where it’d curled itself into his hair again, and led him to the edge of your bed. “Bucky,” you started, keeping your voice as gentle as you could. “I need to tell you something. It’s going to be hard to understand, and you’ll probably think very differently of me, but I think it might lessen the burden I can see you’re putting on yourself.”

Bucky’s eyes fixed on you. Those brows furrowed over confused and tortured eyes, but it was obvious that he would listen.

You bit your lip, beginning to sweat as the nerves rattled through you. “First of all, I… I haven’t told anyone this. It’s not something I’m proud of, but rather something that just is. And it didn’t start with you. I mean—,” you let out a sound of frustration, “Fuck, I mean I didn’t date you because of it. It just sort of grew more complicated as we got closer.”

Those brows furrowed more and twisted his face into more concern than anything.

You kept going. “When you came after me, I was scared. Of course I would be.” You winced at the hurt that flashed in his eyes, but continued on, “But I also… I liked it.”

A shaky, bitter laugh left you. “I liked the chase. I liked it when he cornered me against the wall, when he—,” you paused, a feeling akin to resignation and begrudging acceptance settling into your bones. Your eyes found his metal hand, gazing at the light bouncing off the silver metal. “When he choked me with that hand.”

You buried your face in your palms, tears of shame threatening to leak from your eyes. “You didn’t hurt me. He didn’t hurt me, Bucky. He just brought to light these things I thought I’d kept from you.”

With another breath, one that felt like needles sinking into your lungs, you went on. “He made me feel good, Buck, in all the ways I’d always hoped you would someday. I feel like the worst person in the world for thinking that, for feeling the way I do, but I can’t help it.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. Shame was writhing in your stomach and threatening to consume you. Tears pricked your eyes and wet your palms that still remained pressed to your face.

Bucky didn’t say a word, and you just let the silence thicken the air. You’d already said everything there was to say.

Your sin was bared for his judgment. “I get that you don’t want to be with me anymore—“

“That’s a lie.”

Your head snapped up at that, teary eyes wide as you took in his surprised expression. An expression you watched morph into confusion, and then something else. Realization, maybe.

Bucky went on, “I never wanted to stop being with you, Y/N.”

A piece of you settled deep in your soul at that confession, and you leaned in to listen. Every word from his lips an answer to the question haunting your every thought for the past three months.

“On that mission, we came across intel that there might be a mole in the tower and that they were going to try and trigger the Winter Soldier. I… I was scared, Y/N.” Grief washed over his face as he folded his hands together, knuckles turning white. “I was so scared that you’d see me like that and be afraid of me. I was terrified of hurting you, of— of killing you, that I had to make it look like you didn’t matter to me. I had to make it real, so that whoever saw you and I would think you didn’t matter and leave you alone. I was trying to make you less of a target.”

Your heart thundered in your chest at his confession, at the thought that these past two months of utter disaster had been the result of Bucky trying to protect you from himself.

“You could’ve talked to me,” you muttered, sniffing and wiping your face in a poor attempt to rid it of the mascara you knew had run. “You could’ve told me what was going on.”

Bucky’s head shook, “There wasn’t time. You have to understand.”

You nodded, even if you didn’t truly understand. The guilt and remorse on his face told you he was on the edge of crumbling, and if agreeing with him kept him from breaking, you’d give it to him.

Another long silence blanketed the two of you. You watched his face, his eyes, as his mind mulled over the information you had exchanged with him.

Those blue eyes found your’s after a while, something steely in them that wasn’t there before. “Friday?”

The AI of Stark Tower answered politely, “Yes, Mr. Barnes?”

“Initiate Soldier Protocol in Y/N’s room and cut camera feed. Don’t alert anyone.”

Soldier Protocol.

Your eyes widened, and a chill ran over your skin. Soldier Protocol was something Bucky had come up with when you’d first started dating. It was a safety protocol installed into yours and his own room to ensure that if the Winter Soldier was triggered, it would keep whoever was in the room safe, or keep whoever was trying to get inside from entering. It was a double edged sword, really, because if you were trapped in the room with him, then you couldn’t get out. Bucky had made sure to teach you some basic self defense moves on the very slim chance that would ever happen and had shown you ways that you could use to evade and make an escape to the bathroom if needed. Even though you’d thought of all the holes in the protocol, you couldn’t bear to voice them if it helped ease Bucky’s nerves knowing that if something were to happen, that you’d have an extra wall to keep him from getting to you.

“Confirm Command; Soldier Protocol, Miss Y/N?”

You hesitated, voice wavering just the slightest as you whispered, “Are you sure?”

Bucky nodded slowly, giving you the confidence you needed to answer the AI.

“Confirm Soldier Protocol, Friday. No alerts or cameras.”

The calming voice answered once more. “Command Confirmed. Soldier Protocol initiated.”

Your eyes followed the windows as metal safety doors shut out the dim light of the day. One after another they locked out the outside world and left the two of you inside the confines of your bedroom.

You and Bucky, and your confessions.

“He wants out, Y/N.” It was barely a whisper, but the low timbre of Bucky’s voice reverberated in your bones. “He wants you.”

There was concern laced in his words, but there was also more. So much more that you knew you’d have to talk about later. You’d have time to unpack all of this, what it means for the two of you, later. Right now?

Right now you needed Winter as desperately as you needed air.

“What… How can I help you, Bucky?” Your hands shook at the thought of Winter's return. Of what it would bring.

Bucky pulled his lip between his teeth, his hands running through his hair before twisting themselves in his lap. His eyes were wide, as if he didn’t quite believe he would say the words spilling from his own mouth. “I want you to trigger the Winter Soldier. Feeling him there— it’s driving me mad. An-and now that we know he won’t hurt you and that you… you want him—.”

You reached for his hand, concerned that if he kept squeezing them as tight as he was that he’d break bone. “Bucky, it’s okay.” You tilted your head, smiling softly at him, “Take a breath. There’s a few things I want to set straight before we jump into this.”

His voice lowered, “Okay.”

Bucky was obviously torn up over this whole thing. And as excited as you were to repeat what went on in that stairwell, this was someone you cared about for more than just sex.

This was Bucky.

This was the man who’d apologized with the biggest bouquet of flowers you’d ever laid eyes on the day after your first encounter with Winter. The same man who’d apologized for months after with cute little notes and trinkets he knew you loved and still kept in that shoebox under your bed. The exact same man you’d opened your heart to one Saturday night over a tub of butterscotch ice cream and the third playthrough of your favorite movie. He didn’t complain that you’d watched it back to back either.

This was the man you’d fallen in love with in just a few short months.

The realization settled into your heart, and that warm tingly feeling swept over you as you tightened your hold on his flesh hand and reached for his metal one too.

Bucky hesitated, jerking it away for a moment before allowing you to tug it into your lap. “Buck,” you started, thumbs swiping over his hands in slow calming paths. “It isn’t just the Winter Soldier I like about you. You know that, right? Because if you don’t, I’ve failed as your lover. And as your friend.”

Those blue eyes darted between your own, searching there like a man searching for salvation. You gave his hands another squeeze, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I… I love you, Bucky. You. I think I’ve known for a while now. I was just too scared to admit it out loud. I haven’t had the best run with guys in the past, and you’re so good that I was afraid I’d ruin you somehow.”

Your eyes fell to your joined hands, and this time he was the one to squeeze back.

“I know it’s kind of shitty timing, but I need you to understand that I’m not with you for any other reason other than the simple fact that I adore you, Bucky Barnes. Everything about you.” You shook your head, frowning. “I meant it when I told you I wasn’t with you just because of Winter. I’ve always had this attraction to… well, you know. Dating you just made it more difficult to hide when you were obviously so uncomfortable with it. I didn’t want to make things hard for you. I just wanted you to be happy.”

“Doll,” he mumbled, the name drawing your eyes to him. You’d always loved it when he called you that. “Say it again.”

You frowned, confused for a moment, before a small smile drew itself onto your face. “I love you, Bucky.”

A choked sound fell from his lips before his arms circled around your waist and pulled you into his lap, his face inches from yours. “Again. Say it again,” he begged, his breath fanned over your face as his fingers fisted the back of your shirt. “Please, doll, say it again.”

You folded your legs around his hips, threading your fingers into his hair and peppering kisses on his face. “I love you.”

“Me?” It was the most broken sound you’d ever heard.

You grabbed his face, tilting it up to look at you and tried your best to pour every ounce of love into your expression. “You, James. I love you. I’ll say it a billion times if I have to until I get it through that ridiculously handsome head of yours.”

He laughed at that, broken as it sounded. “I love you too, Y/N. God, I fucking love you.”

Soft lips crashed into yours, dancing a familiar dance as his flesh hand slipped under your shirt and glided up your spine. Your breath caught as the cool sensation of his metal fingers followed after it, his arm wrapping around your back. You smiled against his lips, leaning into him more.

You nearly pouted when he pulled away.

“Y/N,” those eyes, less uncertain and more determined now, swept over your face. “I want you to trigger him.”

You frowned, “But Bucky, you—.”

“I need this.” His voice was surprisingly steady, “I need to do this otherwise it’ll drive me mad. Feeling him there— Jesus, it’s like someone’s scraping a knife against my skull.”

Metal fingers drew circles against your back, “Are you okay with… with seeing him again? I’m not confident enough to do what he did yet. I need more time to come to terms with the damage this hand has done.” He pulled the appendage away, looking it over before his eyes found you again. “But I… I can tell he won’t hurt you. I can feel it,” he pulled his flesh hand away and pressed it over his heart. “Right here.”

He laughed, almost incredulously. “Even the Winter Soldier has fallen in love with you.”

All you could hear was the pounding of your heart in your ears. He wanted you to trigger the Winter Soldier. He said that he loved you, and that Winter did too.

It would really fucking suck if you were dreaming.

“I don’t know your words,” you mumbled, suddenly shy in the light of his proclamation.

This time, the smile he gave was one that reminded you of those old photos from the 40s you’d seen in the history museum. The one where the left side crooks up a bit more than the right. He didn’t release you, but instead wrapped his left arm around your hips and leaned back to rifle through the top drawer of your nightstand for the notepad you always left in there.

He pulled it back to himself and released you only long enough to scribble down a few words and tear off the page. “You’ll have to memorize them. I don’t want them to leave this room.”

You nodded, because of course he wouldn’t and you’d rather swallow hot coals than ever betray him. Your eyes scanned the page a dozen times when he handed it to you, lips moving in silence as you played with the foreign vowels.

All the while those strong hands of his trailed along your back and hips, sometimes exploring your upper thigh.

It made your mind foggy, and you had to keep yourself from squinting to focus.

After you’d finally memorized them, you remove yourself from Bucky’s lap and padded over to your bookcase. You snagged the candle lighter from a shelf, and then removed the bag from your trash bin. It took a few tries, but once the lighter ignited, you let the flames eat away at the page before dropping it into the bin and watching until it was nothing but ash at the bottom.

You could hear a breath of relief leave the soldier from where he remained seated at the edge of your bed. He looked somewhat relaxed, but a tension still ran along his shoulders.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You returned to the bed, smiling a bit as his arms wrapped around the back of your thighs.

Bucky hummed, low and steady. “M’sure, Doll.” He leaned his head against your stomach, and your hands found his hair on instinct.

He hummed again at the touch, and his arms tightened around your legs before he lifted you. Bucky turned quickly, one knee coming up onto the bed before he laid you down with a thump on the mattress.

You smiled, laughing a little as you bounced from the sudden drop. Bucky grinned back, his eyes shining. “Missed you, you know. I’m sorry for not telling you.” He leaned over you, hands planting on either side of your head. Nothing but honesty shined in those blue eyes as he looked down at you. “I’m sorry for wasting three months, and I promise I won’t do that again.”

Butterflies stirred in your belly, and you could feel the flush of heat on your neck as you leaned up and planted a kiss on his lips, “Better not.”

Before you could think much of it, Bucky reached over and flicked the lamp on. You were too busy feeling fuzzy inside that you’d forgotten the very prominent marks littering the delicate flesh of your neck.

Marks that would always make Bucky drown in guilt.

“Fuck, doll.”

He stared at your neck, horror painting his face in the lamplight. His body lifted until he was sitting on his knees over you, hands resting on his lap like he didn’t know what to do with them as he took in the damage he’d left.

This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. “Hey, no—,” you gripped the front of his shirt, the sudden motion catching him off guard as you pulled yourself up to his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes. You would’ve liked to yank him back over you, but you lacked the ability to battle his serum-enhanced strength. Sitting up did just fine.

“You don’t get to feel guilty for this. Not now, and not anytime after this if you… if we’re serious about doing this.” You stared him down, unwilling to allow him even a glance away. “I told you, I liked it. I told you that it didn’t hurt. You need to trust me as much as I trust you in this. That’s the only way this,” you motioned between you both, “is going to work.” You lowered your voice, nearly mumbling the last part. “I can’t take another step back, Buck. Not after three months, and definitely not after that.”

Bucky’s eyes danced between yours for a few moments. They darted down to your marred skin and back again several times before he blew out a breath and nodded reluctantly.

Your shoulders eased too.

“Now come back here and kiss me, soldier. Your girl’s in need.” You smiled, quirking a playful brow in an attempt to draw him back in.

It worked. That smile pulled at his lips, small at first but quickly blooming as you began peppering his jaw with kisses.

The kisses started gentle and exploring, and the touches soft and sweet. You hadn’t felt his skin against yours for three long months, save for two days ago, and you’d missed everything that made him Bucky.

You’d missed how the stubble of his chin brushed your cheeks when you kissed, and how he held your face like you were the most precious thing he’d ever touched. Delicate and worthy of worship.

You’d missed him so much it hurt.

“Bucky,” you panted, tugging his shirt as you kissed him. “I love you.”

A deep, rumbling groan left him, and his tongue swept across your bottom lip. “I love you, Y/N. So damn much.”

His flesh hand cupped the back of your neck and guided your head to the side so he could place the tenderest kisses over each hickey Winter had left. “He’s a brute,” Bucky mumbled against the column of your throat, stealing your breath. “If he hurts you–.”

“He won’t, James.” You pressed your forehead to his shoulder, biting your lip as his flesh hand trailed all the way from your neck to the base of your spine. “I know it.”

You only got a hum in response before his lips crashed into yours again. Bucky’s hands were everywhere, confident and warm on one side and tentative and gentle with the other, much colder one. The contrast sent delicious tingles along your skin wherever he touched and only served to heighten your anticipation.

This was the first time Bucky himself had allowed so much of a brush of his metal arm against you, let alone tender touch.

His palms mapped every dip and crest of your body, his touch growing more needy with each sweep of his skin against yours. His tongue slid over your lips again, a silent request that you were all too happy to accept.

You couldn’t help the satisfied sound that escaped you as the taste of him swept over you, familiar and strong. Things only hastened from there. It was like a switch had flipped and he couldn’t bear not to have his hands on you.

He kissed you hard, chasing you with lips and tongue like a man starved. The feather light touches of his hands turned more firm as he held your hips and pulled you closer. Bucky’s chest heaved, his breaths fanning over you between kisses in hot puffs.

You could tell he was still holding back. That he needed this as much as the burning need in your core told you that you did. “Bucky,” the sound was practically a whine, “Please.”

His fingers curled against your hips, “Fuck. Okay, okay.” Wet kisses were trailed down your neck as his hands slipped beneath your shirt to sweep calloused thumbs over your aching nipples. “Say them, doll. Say the words.”

You deserved a fucking gold metal for succeeding to pull your mind out of the fog he’d clouded your brain with. It always happened with him. Your mind just short circuited every time he cast you a heated glance, and this? Well, it was a miracle you could remember your own name.

You opened your mouth, the words you’d memorized tumbling out one after another.

“Longing.” Bucky grunted, but didn’t stop in his ministrations as you spoke the next.

“Rusted.” Another grunt, and a tremor through his shoulders, but his lips never left your skin. In fact, it just seemed to spur him further as his hands tugged your shirt down to reveal the delicate skin of your breasts.

“Furn-,” you gasped as his lips locked onto a nipple, tongue teasing expertly over the nub. “Furnace.”

The hum he released sent skittering tingles across your body in the most delicious way.

“Finish, baby.”

Fucking hell. What was the next word?

“Daybreak,” his hands lowered to your ass and held it firmly against him as he licked and sucked the sensitive skin of your breasts, never missing a beat. “Seventeen.”

Those devilish hands dragged lower, fingers trailing along the seam of your panties through your leggings and along the underside of your thighs where they met the curve of your ass. Inches from where you needed him most.

You could barely suck in a breath, utterly overwhelmed by the sensation of his mouth on your skin and those hands mapping your body in agonizingly slow strokes that sent waves of need straight to your core. “Benign,” his body arched over yours, easing you into the mattress, “Nine.”

Another shudder this time, and you could see the ripple of muscle beneath that tight black shirt. God did you want it off of him.

“Homecoming.”

A groan, and a shake of his head. It was the first indicator that he was uncomfortable.

You hesitated at the pained sound, but you didn’t have time to ask a thing though. Not when his head snapped up and those wide, wild blue eyes found yours. “Don’t stop,” he panted, cheeks flushed.

So you didn’t.

“One.”

Wet lips trailed kisses down the exposed skin of your stomach, the tips of his dark hair trailing down as he kissed past your naval and kept going. Lower, lower, lower…

“Freight Car.” The words sounded strangled in your throat through your labored breathing.

The kisses stopped abruptly, and Bucky’s body went stock still.

You weren’t even sure he was breathing until the even rush of an exhale swept against your stomach.

And then he chuckled.

It wasn’t the kind you’d normally hear from Bucky. It wasn’t filled with joy, or playfulness. This one sounded depraved and downright corrupt.

The hairs on your neck raised, and that sharp bite of panic jolted through you as you stared down at his large frame hovering over you. You couldn’t see his face from this angle, and the lack of any hint of what was going through his head only heightened the tension building in your body.

“Told you, didn’t I?” His voice was a rumble in the silence, and you gasped when his tongue swept a path up the center of your belly. “You fucking need me.”

Cold fingers hooked the waistband of your leggings and shucked them off in one quick motion, the cool air assaulting your exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. You simply stared up at him and tried to remember to breathe beneath the weight of his eyes on your body.

Those cold, lust-lidded eyes.

“Winter,” you breathed, a thrum of excitement mingling with the nerves tingling under your skin. The ache you felt was at the forefront of your mind. Bucky’s gentle touches had served to stir the need that was already brewing.

Now, Winter has come to finish the job.

He smiled, slow and sultry. “Needy little thing, aren't you, Dollface?”

You bit your lip as heat crept up your neck.

Winter’s body rose to his knees, his hands curling around your thighs in a bruising grip and lifting them over his shoulders. You yelped, but it didn’t stop him. Those thick corded forearms locked your legs in place over his shoulders, his face centimeters from your core and the stubble of his jaw tickling your thighs.

You were almost certain you'd soaked through the thin pair of panties you wore.

His hands dragged up your thighs, fingers slipping beneath the fabric at your hips as he held your eyes.

And then he ripped them at the seams. The puny fabric fell to the mattress in tatters, and all you could do was gawk at him.

“Don’t wear those when you’re with me.” Winter ordered against your thigh, his tongue swiping a path up the inner stripe of skin.

The action sent another wave of want through you, the anticipation of what he was going to do serving to build your nerves higher and higher.

He drew you closer by your hips, humming against your skin. The sweep of hot air over you was a welcome sensation and you arched into it. Your heart pounded, and the angle in which your body was held, your head still resting against the mattress along with your shoulders, made it hard to think.

Winter stopped just short of brushing his lips over your sensitive clit. You could’ve cried right then and there. Blinking up at him, you caught the wicked grin plastered on his face.

The soldier above you looked downright god-like bathed in the dim light of the room. His eyes gleamed, and that silver arm danced with every move he made. Every devious stroke of cool fingers against your body.

You knew this exact image would be carved into your mind for the rest of your life.

“Beg for it,” he ordered, his grip turning nearly bruising. “Tell me how badly you want it.” His lips brushed your core, just a whisper of scruff on your sensitive skin.

You squirmed in response, chasing the feeling. Normally, you would rather die than beg a man for anything. But Winter? He had a special way of breaking you down. “Please, Winter, please. I-I want you. I want you to–.”

He didn’t even let you finish before his tongue delved into your core.

You felt every sweep, every brush of that expert muscle laving over you. Desperate, needy sounds were echoing through your room, and a part of you knew they were yours. That they were spilling from your parted lips in broken sentences begging him for more. You were too focused on where his tongue toyed with you to care about anything else, though. Every pass of his tongue on your clit, or a sweep against your clenching walls made it harder and harder to ground yourself.

You were crawling closer and closer to the edge.

Your fingers were curled into the bedspread, and your hips ground into his face and bucked against the solid grip of his arms over your thighs. Winter groaned into your heat, the rumbling vibrations pushing you closer to euphoria.

Dazed, you tried to focus on his face, tried to make out his features in your love-drunk state.

Winter's eyes were closed, and his face never came up once for air. Not even when you could feel his chest shuttering, and those muffled grunts became more frequent.

And God did they feel good.

Your chest heaved, your legs trying and failing to move an inch against his iron grip. As those vibrating groans shoved you over the edge with a cry.

Your brain couldn’t focus, not with all the blood rushing through your head and the thundering sound of your own heart in your ears, or the blissful sensation of release crashing over you in waves.

“So dirty, Dollface. Letting me ruin you like this.” Winter eased his grip on your shaky legs, his hands dragging up your thighs to grip your hips. “Letting me brand you, taste you…” He licked his lips, tasting you on his stubbled face. His body leaned forward, your legs parting around his hips as he planted a burning kiss to your lips, “Fucking perfect.”

You panted, blinking to focus on his words as you came back to yourself.

Winter was lifting himself off of you, his eyes raking over your disheveled form as he slipped off the bed and stood to his full height. Those blue eyes held nothing but burning desire, muscles flexing as he yanked off his shirt and rewarded you with the view of his sweat slicked torso.

The sight was erotic. His hair damp with sweat, and his face glossy with the remnants of your release, chest heaving as he sucked in much needed air.

Winter reached forward, his cool fingers wrapping around your ankle and tugging you towards the edge of the bed with a wicked grin. “Gonna make you come again, Dollface. Need to hear those pretty sounds you make.” His flesh hand grabbed your calf, pulling you closer. “Wanna hear my name on your lips again, and again, and again.”

His metal fingers gripped your thigh hard enough to leave bruises, but that didn’t bother you. You loved the reminders that littered your skin from the last time Winter branded you with his affections, and you relished each one that would follow.

With a quick, strong motion, he flipped you on your stomach. Your chest bounced against the bedsheets, the friction against your pebbled nipples sent a jolt of pleasure down to your toes making you moan into the comforter as he brought your hips up and adjusted your knees against the bed.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He panted, pressing himself against your ass.

You could feel him through the sweats still hanging from his hips. The length of him pressed firmly against you, brushing your sensitive core and making you groan again. You wanted to feel him, needed to know what it was like to be with Winter the same way you craved intimacy with his counterpart.

“Please,” You begged.

With a grunt, the sweats were yanked down and he thrust harshly, seating himself completely in one swift motion.

His moan rumbles through you, setting your nerves alight. “Oh god…”

And then he starts moving.

One stark difference between James Buchanan Barnes and The Winter Soldier, was that one was gentle and kind, and everything you’d want in the man you’d take home to meet your parents. And the other? The other was the kind of man that would carve his name into your skin with a smile and defile you in unspeakable ways, rough and raw.

Winter snapped his hips at a breakneck pace, pulling out only to plunge back in with a force that made you see stars. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream, clinging to the sheets as he drove you into the mattress. His cock hit all the right places, those quick, constant motions driving you closer and closer to another release. His grunts and puffs of breath only added momentum.

Tears pricked your eyes, your heart hammering and your skin on fire as pleasure coursed through you, building higher and higher.

A cold palm slipped along your belly, snaking its way between your breasts and firmly wrapping around your neck, squeezing those delicate pressure points that made your head spin. He lifted you from the mattress, his pace halting almost completely as your back met his heaving chest.

Winter’s raw voice met your ears as you whimpered at the loss of friction, teetering on the edge of sanity as your core wept for attention. “Gonna cum if I keep that up, Dollface.” His voice is choppy, puffs of air hitting the side of your neck as he talks. “Feel so fuckin’ good.”

His dick pushes in again, dragging slowly along your walls as he groans in your ear, your own voice joining him in a broken harmony. “‘M gonna need this every time. Need to feel your tight cunt, hear your pretty cries…” His tongue darted out to slide over your cheek, swiping up a tear that had fallen from your damp lashes, “Taste you every. Single. Time.”

Those hips snapped back into their brutal pace, slamming against your ass as he clutched your frail neck in his metal hand, the other coming up to grip your hair and tug your head back as he sucked more love bites along your neck.

You moan, tears of pleasure falling from your lashes as you near the edge. Winter’s grunts and shaky breath vaguely registering that he’s nearly there himself.

He sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck, the combination of pain and utter pleasure shoving you over the precipice as you open your mouth in a scream. That metal hand snakes up to stifle it as his hips jerk a few more agonizing thrusts before shuddering with his strangled moan.

You’re left limp and breathless, utterly spent and draped over his arm with your head lolling against his strong and heaving shoulder.

Winter slips from you, repositioning you on the bed like an offering on an unholy altar. With his hair plastered against his forehead, those dark strands utterly soaked with sweat, he smiles down at you.

“Again.”

Tags<3

@mrsnikstan / @sunnyhummingbee / @millercontracting / @veysxrge / @almosttoopizza / @tiredsleepyandreading / @lauratang / @buckyssugarchick / @tranquilty / @8crazy-freak8 @thatonewriterchick / @kennysbadkitten / @black-cat-2 / @urbanleftovers / @hellsenthero / @knowingnothingnoel / @appeys-world / @bubblegumbeautyqueen / @rianxx / @ponyosmom35 / @atomicwinter2213 / @ariana-l / @savannahrilee-blog

#sequel #fanfic #smut #winter soldier #marvel #bucky barnes #drama #the avengers #x reader #x yn #mcu #bucky barnes smut #update #marvel mcu

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marscardigan · 4 months ago

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war of hearts masterlist !

ellie williams x princess!reader

“ It’s bittersweet to think about the damage that we do

’Cause I was going down, but I was doing it with you

Yeah, everything we broke, and all the trouble that we made

But I say that I hate you with a smile on my face ”

- favorite crime, Olivia Rodrigo

main masterlist

summary: royal au. ellie williams had a reputation as one of jackson’s most skilled spies. no matter the cost, she always accomplished her missions, and never dared to fail. everything changes when she is ordered to assassinate the only daughter of the wolves’ king. the lines blur. and the mission that should have been easy and fast, becomes anything but.

status: ongoing / finished

total word count: 17,1k

content general warning: this fic doesn’t follow the original plot of the last of us part ii. canon typical violence. reader is isaac dixon’s stepdaughter. no use of y/n—will add as i go.

comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated! <3

all images are from pinterest.

chapter i. meet the realm’s delight

chapter ii. the masquerade ball

chapter iii. the beginning of a war and the end of a fantasy

chapter iv. bill’s manor

chapter v.

...

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zevraholics · 21 days ago

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ZEVWARDEN WEEK IS BACK!!!

What is it? ZevWarden week is a prompted week event to celebrate Zevran Arainai and his beloved Warden. We will be sharing newly created fan works during the event! Please keep in mind this event is 18+! When is it? In 2025 ZevWarden week will be in August, 17th-23rd! How to participate: You can follow the daily prompts for inspiration or post new ZevWarden content! We will be reblogging all kinds of fan works: fics, art, edits, gifs, meta - anything goes! Please remember to properly tag your post, including nsfw, content warnings, and trigger warnings. Tag your content with #zevwarden week 2025 or tag @zevraholics on your post and we will reblog it!

If you're not sure what to tag, here's a link to what we tag for!

*Note: Any art, edits, etc. found to be whitewashing Zevran will not be shared.

Here are this year's prompts (full descriptions under the read more):

Sunday, August 17: Wealth, gold, relationship with money

Monday, August 18: Family, legacy, etc

Tuesday, August 19: Bondage, bdsm

Wednesday, August 20: Loyalty

Thursday, August 21: Purpose

Friday, August 22: Growth, reform

Saturday, August 23: Favorite features

Day 1 - Sunday, August 17 - Wealth, gold, relationship with money

"Ahh, an untouched treasure! What wonders await us here?"

How well-off are Zev and the warden after the Blight? Do they come across any trove of wealth or do they live modestly? What is their relationship to money? Do they pamper each other? What is your HC for the Warden giving Zev the bars of gold we see in canon?

Day 2 - Monday, August 18 - Family, legacy

"And what of family? Of children? Life does not begin and end with yourself."

What are their thoughts on children? Do Zev and the warden ever have or adopt any of their own? If so, what kind of parents are they? If not, are they ever around other people's children?

Day 3 - Tuesday, August 19 - Bondage, BDSM

"Are you sure you do not wish to tie me up? Not even a little?"

Do you HC Zev as saying such things as flippant jokes or as real interest and desire? Do Zev and the warden get up to any kinds of kink? What are their preferences in that department? How do they develop that kind of intimate relationship?

Day 4 - Wednesday, August 20 - Loyalty

"I am a very loyal person. Up until the point where someone expects me to die for failing."

Was Zev loyal to the warden from the very moment he promised to help them, or does that loyalty develop with time? Is that loyalty ever tested? What about the other way around? Is the warden loyal to Zev from the start, or are they suspicious of him at first? If so, when does that change?

Day 5 - Thursday, August 21 - Purpose

"What we are doing here...stopping the Blight. I cannot think of anything i have ever done which is so worthy."

At what point does Zev start thinking that what they're doing is truly worthwhile? In what ways aside from fighting does he support the warden through such an insurmountable task? How does he feel, when it's all over? Does he recognise the part he played or does he see himself as a sidekick?

Day 6 - Friday, August 22 - Growth, reform

"My name is Zevran Arainai, adventurer and occasional assassin."

When does Zev go from calling himself an Antivan Crow to seeing himself as an adventurer? What does ‘occasional assassin’ look like in your HCs? What contracts does he still take? Do Zev and the warden adventure together or do they keep a long distance relationship while the warden runs Vigil’s Keep and he travels?

Day 7 - Saturday August 23 - Favorite features

"He didn't say how handsome" "Oh, so you've noticed! I credit my high cheekbones and pouty lips."

What are the features and traits, physical or not, that they each love the most about the other? How do they express that admiration? What do they like the most about themselves? Are they both confident, or are there hidden or obvious insecurities?

#zevwardenweek2025 #zevwarden week 2025 #zevwardenweek #zevwarden week #zevran x warden #zevran arainai #zevran #zevran dragon age #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age fanart #zevraholics anonymous #zevwarden #masterpost

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sukunahs · 1 month ago

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to distant lands - ch.5: temptation | ryomen sukuna

pairing: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader (medieval fantasy au)

summary: ryomen sukuna, your father's favourite knight, has been assigned as your personal guard. You find that your dislike of him slowly develops into something else as he tangles himself in your life in ways you never could've expected.

word count: 7.7k

chapter content: 18+ mdni, smut, princess!reader, enemies to lovers, slow-burn(ish), forbidden relationship, jealousy, medieval fantasy setting, protective sukuna, anxiety, depression, suicidal ideation, kidnapping, sukuna and reader are both terrible with emotions, this chapter is really heavy on the angst I'm sorry :(

authors note: listening to you're losing me by taylor swift and crying while I wrote this one

series masterlist | AO3 | chapter one | previous chapter (four) | next chapter (six)

“You can’t possibly be serious about Naoya.” You spat at your father.

The two of you had taken your leave from the banquet hall for the moment, stepping out to have a private conversation about the events of the evening. Your father having a list of suitors for you to meet was one thing, but not completely closing the door on Naoya Zenin when he expressed an interest in your hand in marriage was something else entirely.

Your father sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not serious about Naoya. Do you really think that I’d hand my only daughter over to those barbarians? Don’t think so little of me.”

“Oh, don’t think so little of you?” You asked, a little astounded by his response. “Sorry, it's hard not to when you were in there practically pushing me into his arms.”

“I was doing no such thing.” Kashimo hissed. “I told him what he wanted to hear, in the hopes that this might further avert war. The longer that he thinks he’s getting what he wants, the more time that we have to figure out what to do when they do attack.”

Your father looked exhausted, it seemed to you that he was growing weaker and more disheveled by the day.

“I’m sorry if I concerned you.” He said, his voice a little softer now as he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I can’t show them any weakness. But I swear to you that I will not give you to them.”

Your shoulders relaxed as you let out a breath that you hadn’t realised you were holding. “What were they doing here in the first place? Naoya approached me during the Knights parade - it was terrifying.”

“He got close to you?” Kashimo asked, his voice panic-stricken. “The guards were supposed to keep him away from you, I’d made that very clear in the morning briefing.”

“He probably took advantage of it being so busy. Plus he only showed up when Sukuna was away, so I imagine he picked his moment carefully.”

Your father sighed. “That’s not a good enough excuse. One of my men should’ve helped you - these are dangerous times.” He paused for a moment, as if considering whether he should share the next piece of information with you. “The assassin from a few weeks ago, we have reason to believe that he had ties to the Zenins, but nothing conclusive to prove it.”

At the mention of the assassin you felt your heart rate pick up, re-living that moment, your chest tightening. “If- if the assassin was connected to the Zenins, why would you let them come here? He had me alone in that crowd of people, he could’ve stuck a knife in me right there and no one would be any the wiser.”

“You’re right.” Your father said with a grimace. “That’s a failing on our side, I should’ve had more men looking out for you. As to why they were here… it's a matter of keeping our enemies close. We don’t know what they’re up to off in their Kingdom, Naoya and Mai being here provided us with some interesting insights.”

You sneered at his logical approach to the situation. “I hope those insights were worth risking my life for.”

“Nothing is.” Your father said seriously. “As I said before, I had arranged for the guards to be on high alert, I’m livid that they didn’t look out for you as asked.”

“If you were so worried, you shouldn’t have let Sukuna be in the parade.”

“Perhaps you’re right. I won’t let this happen again.” Having your father agree that you were right was a rare occurrence, you were going to hold onto this moment for a while.

“Thank you.” You said. “And for the record, I also don’t want to marry any of the suitors you brought in today.”

“I’m well aware of that.” He said dryly. “As were all of the suitors. You’re very expressive - you don’t hide disappointment well at all.”

That wasn’t really news to you. You were a pretty good liar, but when it came to pushing down your emotions you could use a lot of work. No wonder Sukuna was always able to read what you were thinking.

“I’m not trying to make your life miserable.” Your father said after a moment. “I’m trying to do right by you, whilst also doing what’s right for the Kingdom. I cannot, in good faith, keep you unmarried. However, I’m happy to take your lead on which suitor you choose.”

“Let me think about it.” You said. “But never let it be Naoya.” Fixing your father with the sternest glare that you could conjure as she pushed your way back through the big wooden door leading to the great hall.

The banquet was still in full swing, pretty much everyone had vacated their seats now, all either revelling on the dancefloor, or out chatting in the castle courtyard while they downed drink after drink. All you wanted was to find Sukuna and retreat to some quiet place where you could tell him about everything that had transpired in the short hours that you’d been apart.

You pushed your way through the crowd, doing your best to keep your breathing steady at the thought of just how many people you were surrounded by right now. You were not going to have a panic attack in the middle of the banquet. One of the suitors would inevitably come to your rescue and that would be humiliating.

As you reached the back of the hall you saw a shock of pink hair, your heart beating a little faster as you made your way towards your Knight. You were grateful that he was so tall, it really came in handy in situations like this.

You were just about to call out to him when you stopped yourself.

Standing before Sukuna was possibly the last person that you wanted to see. Yorozu, twirling her long black hair and gazing up at your Knight adoringly. She was batting her lashes at him, giggling obnoxiously as she placed a hand on his armored chest.

Sukuna wasn’t pushing her away, you couldn’t see his expression from here, but he wasn’t pushing her away, and that was all the information you needed to make bile rise in your throat. You weren’t sure what was happening, you wanted to throw up, you desperately needed air, and more than anything you wanted to cry.

As you stood there, paralysed to your spot, Yorozu looked at you from over Sukuna’s shoulder, fixing you with a triumphant grin.

Unwilling to watch the scene unfold any further, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the hall, brushing off anyone who attempted to greet you or ask what was wrong. The image of Yorozu smiling up at Sukuna kept replaying in your mind, no matter how hard you tried to shove it into a box.

What a detestable woman.

But why did you even care? It wasn’t like Sukuna was yours, he couldn’t ever be yours. Pursuing Sukuna would do nothing but break your heart in the end - you could never be together. He was free to do whatever he wanted, with whoever he wanted.

So why did seeing Yorozu so close to him feel like a total betrayal?

Why did it make you feel like you were going to vomit your heart out onto the floor?

You walked until you made it to the private garden below your window, taking a seat on the bench by the pond, where you and Sukuna had first made peace many weeks ago. And when you were sure that you were totally alone, you buried your face in the silky fabric of your puffy sleeve and sobbed.

—

Sukuna had not been enjoying his day.

Although, perhaps that was too harsh an assessment. He’d very much enjoyed the first part of his day, the part where he got to hang out with you, where he got to give you that pretty necklace and have you thank him with an even prettier smile.

But from that point on everything just went downhill. He had never been a fan of parades in the first place, and had only taken part at the insistence of your father. Not to mention, he had only been informed as they were getting ready to set off on the parade, that Naoya Zenin was in attendance.

That information had made him furious, because he was here on his horse, in this stupid parade while an enemy of the Kingdom was walking the grounds freely. The grounds that you were also walking, currently unprotected because, again, he was in this stupid parade.

His day had only gotten worse when he spotted you in the audience, looking up at him with wide eyes and a pale face, your terror poorly disguised by the fake smile that you’d put on for him. You were clinging to Yuki like your life depended on it, and it took a great deal of his willpower to not jump off his horse and go to you right there and then.

But that would’ve brought too much attention to you, and attention seemed to be something that you couldn’t handle at all lately.

After the procession he’d planned to get to you right away, unwilling to part himself from you for the rest of the banquet. But Kashimo had been waiting for him at the end of the parade route, joyfully informing him that he had the night off, all but commanding him to go and have some fun and to leave you alone for the time being.

He’d wanted to object, but what authority did he have to do so? An order was an order, and he wasn’t keen on the King starting to piece together just how much affection he had for you, lest he be removed from the post entirely.

And just when he thought his day couldn’t get any worse, he had to sit by and watch you be introduced to a seemingly never-ending stream of men. That was painful, each time you shot one of them a smile he felt a pang in his chest, and had to force himself to look away.

He liked your smile.

He only really wanted you to smile at him.

But the frustration he felt from the polite smile that you shot at various suitors was nothing compared to the rage he felt when Naoya approached you. He couldn’t hear what was being said from all the way on the other side of the hall, but he got the general gist of it - Naoya was requesting your hand in marriage.

That felt like a knife twisting in his gut. He could see that terrified expression on your pretty face as that asshole openly leered at you, and all he wanted to do was walk over to the Zenin Prince and tear his head clean off his shoulders. He was grateful that Choso and Yuki were right there next to him, warning him against doing anything stupid. He didn’t think he would’ve been able to hold himself back otherwise.

After Naoya had taken his leave, you and Kashimo had left the room. Yuki and Choso had headed off to dance, leaving Sukuna on his own, anxiously waiting for you to return.

However, it seemed like some vengeful god had it out for Sukuna that day, because instead of being granted one single moment of solitude, he found himself being harassed by one of those unpleasant women from Utahime’s party.

He couldn’t recall her name, couldn’t really care less about what it was. He’d seen that sad expression on your face after they’d gone to talk to you at that party, and he hated it. By extension he wanted nothing to do with any of them. But this woman was insistent, even as he got up and tried to walk away from her, she followed along.

He wasn’t quite sure how anyone put up with this lady. Her shrill voice was grating on his ears and she was doing her best to try and proposition him but it just came off as desperate. Ignoring her, he kept scanning the crowd for you, hoping that you’d come back so that he’d have an easy excuse to get away from this woman without causing a scene.

The woman, who he registered had now introduced herself as Yorozu, was inching herself closer to him, her hand coming to rest on his armor. She was spouting some nonsense about how attractive he was, how she could show him a good time, and how boring it must be looking after you all the time.

That was the last straw for him. “Get away from me.” He said, tone full of disgust.

She looked up at him in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me.” He snarled. “Fuck off.”

Offence and disbelief were written all over her face, but she didn’t pull away, looking at something over Sukuna’s shoulder as a smug grin made its way onto her face. “Fine.” She said, after a few more moments. “I’m done here anyway. Hope to see you again soon.” She said with a wink, her voice overly saccharine.

Sukuna frowned as she left. You were right, she really was an unpleasant woman.

It had been a while since you and your father had left the room, and he was growing worried, once again scanning the room for any sign of your presence. He could see Kashimo back at his throne now, but you were absent from his side. Perhaps you’d returned to your chambers already?

Uninterested in partaking in the banquet any longer if you weren’t coming back, Sukuna slipped out of the back door, making his way towards your chambers. He took the longer, more quiet route back to the tower, opting to cut through the secluded garden that you so often liked to paint in.

He’d almost made it the whole length of the garden when he heard the soft sniffles coming from beside the pond, freezing in his tracks at the sound.

There you were, hugging your knees tight against your chest as you sat on your usual bench. Your face was tilted down, body shaking with quiet sobs. He wondered what had happened after your father had taken you out of the room, what could’ve possibly transpired with Naoya to elicit this response from you.

“Princess.” He said as he approached, his voice laced with worry, hoping that his presence could help soothe whatever suffering you were currently undergoing.

What he wasn’t expecting was for you to tense up at the sound of his voice. Raising your head to slowly to fix him with a look that was filled with hurt and resentment. Your face was red, cheeks all blotchy from crying. He wanted to reach out and wipe your tears away, but the tension in your body at his presence had him thinking twice.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bench, watching you carefully. “Did something happen with Naoya?”

You scoffed. “Like you care about that.”

Now he was confused. What would’ve ever given you the impression that he didn’t care? He’d spent weeks building up your trust, spending every waking moment at your side. He thought that you’d grown to genuinely enjoy his company. Had he misunderstood you? Perhaps he’d done something wrong, but as he racked his brain, he couldn’t think what his transgression might’ve been.

You were happy the last time you’d seen him, all cute and blushing when he gave you that necklace. What could he have done since then?

“Of course I care.” He responded firmly. “Are you okay?” His gaze flitted over you, checking for any signs of physical distress, almost afraid that Naoya might’ve gone as far as to put his hands on you at some point.

“Gods just- just leave me alone Sukuna. Seemed like Yorozu had plenty of your attention, why don’t you go and talk to her.”

Oh. Oh.

Just like that, everything clicked. You were jealous. You’d seen Yorozu talking to him, maybe even touching him, and had completely misinterpreted the situation. He could correct you on that front in a moment, but what was more pressing was what your jealousy told him.

You liked him.

His first reaction to that knowledge was elation. You liked him, just like how he liked you. His affection wasn’t one sided, you enjoyed his company, yearned for him just like he yearned for you.

However, his feelings of happiness were quickly replaced with dread. Dread at what this meant for both of you. Nothing could happen between you, it was forbidden. If you did cross that line it could only end in pain and tragedy for both of you.

But could he not have you for just one night? Allow both of you something just for the moment. You wanted him too, after all.

Even with scorn written all over your face, you still looked so lovely. Your elegant features were framed beautifully in the dwindling light of the evening, and he found himself wanting nothing more than to leap over the line that he had drawn for himself and show you just how much you meant to him, show you just how pointless your jealousy was.

He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. You were going to be married to one of those suitors, if he did anything with you and your father found out, he’d be sentenced to death. And if he had you just for tonight, he’d run the risk of breaking your heart.

You could never be his.

But as he continued to gaze at your pretty face, with the knowledge that you wanted him like he wanted you, he found his resolve crumbling to pieces.

“Oh princess.” He said quietly, gazing affectionately at you. “You’re so foolish.”

You parted your lips, most likely to really go off at him, to tell him how you were in no mood for his taunting. But before any sound could make it from your mouth he was softly pressing his lips against yours. One of his hands moved to your waist, the other finding its way to the back of your head, pulling you close to him.

This was selfish. He was selfish.

But he couldn’t resist you any longer.

He felt you let out a small whimper of surprise at the action, and he smiled against your lips as he felt you kiss him back. It was a little sloppy and uncoordinated - but that was to be expected, this was likely your first kiss ever after all.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, goosebumps rising on his skin where your fingertips were brushing against him. His heart was racing desperately in his chest at having you close to him like this. He’d been with plenty of women, but none had ever made him feel giddy like you did.

All he wanted was to stay right here in this moment, with your lips locked against his, your scent overwhelming his senses.

He didn’t want to let you go, because once you broke apart he knew that the guilt would settle in, the weight of his actions - the reality that pursuing you would lead him only to inevitable heartbreak.

The reality that from tomorrow, he needed to ensure that this never happened again.

But for now, with you secure in his arms he could push that all aside, focus on how soft and warm you felt in his grip, and pretend that the rest of the world didn’t exist.

It was just you and him in that garden, basked in the twilight, clinging desperately to each other.

—

Reality had hit you like a bucket of cold water that next morning. Your emotions all twisted up and confused about the events of the previous day.

You could still vaguely feel the ghost of Sukuna’s lips on yours. You’d never expected that your first kiss would be with him, but you were glad that it was - you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so happy, so secure.

So why did it feel like you were falling apart now?

There was a melancholy feeling that had overcome you in the light of day, a realisation that you’d both crossed a line, one that you’d both need to un-cross promptly if you wanted to survive in this Kingdom.

The two of you had sat quietly in the garden for a long time that night, his arm wrapped firmly around you. Neither of you had said much after the kiss, both of you letting unspoken feelings hang in the air. You weren’t stupid, you knew that Sukuna would regret this - it was just the way of the world, a Knight couldn’t have a princess. You could never be his.

And he could never be yours. There was no social merit to your union, your father would never allow it.

But neither of you wanted to spoil the moment, so you said nothing. Pretending, at least for the night, that you could belong to each other.

What you weren’t expecting was just how resentful you’d feel the next morning. How much hurt would course through your body when Sukuna was distant with you, when he’d pretend that that previous night hadn’t happened.

You’d been lying to yourself for a while about just how much you liked him, and now that the dam had broken, there was no holding your feelings back.

He had to do it, had to push you away, you understood that. He had to play the game, you both did. There were punishments for touching a princess in such a way. But you had no control over how you felt, and what you’d come to realise with his lips pressed against yours, was that you desperately wanted to be with him.

You wanted him to be yours, for him to warm your bed each night, curling his body protectively around you.

No suitor had made you feel anything but anxiety, a desperation to avoid marriage. With Sukuna you felt safe, secure. You felt a deep sense of desire and longing unlike anything you’d ever experienced.

It was clear he felt the same.

But it couldn’t happen. Neither of you lived in a fantasy. You could take a chance, sneak around behind your father’s back, but you’d get caught eventually - there was no chance for anything long-term between the two of you.

Heartbreak was inevitable, and it seemed like Sukuna’s policy was to avoid getting dragged in too deep in the first place, because he was doing his absolute best to avoid the two of you ever being alone together, cutting back on the small talk that he’d make as you went about your day, effectively distancing himself from you.

It was almost like how he was when he first became your guard. Although possibly even worse, because now he wasn’t even going out of your way to annoy you. He was simply doing his duty to the letter, treating you like an asset he had been assigned to protect, rather than a person.

But even with all of his attempts to keep you at an arm's length, he couldn’t hide the flicker of longing that appeared in his eyes when he’d look at you. That broke you even more, knowing that he was desperate for you in the same way you were for him, but he was unwilling to take any further action for both your sakes.

Days passed like that, and your frustration only grew. You knew that it was wrong to push him, that he was just trying to protect you both, but every night you would dream of his touch and pray that he would give in to his desires.

So one evening you summoned him into your room, intent on airing out your grievances. He’d regarded you warily as he entered, obviously expecting that this meeting was going to happen sooner or later. He made sure to stand across the room from you, almost as if he thought his body would betray him if the two of you were too close.

“Do you need something, princess?” He asked, almost mechanically, not allowing affection to seep into his tone in the way it used to.

“Cut the shit, Sukuna.” You hissed, taking great joy in the flicker of surprise that crossed his face at your coarse language. You stalked across the room, standing close to him, hating the distance that he had imposed between the two of you. “I can’t do this. I can’t just go on pretending like nothing happened.”

He let out a deep sigh, and glanced away from you, as though he couldn’t bear to look you in the eye as he made his next statement. “It was a mistake.” He said, as he took a step back from you. “It won’t happen again.”

Your eyes widened in horror. It felt like your heart was shattering, like Sukuna had taken it in his hands and thrown it to the floor, scattering the pieces. He couldn’t even have the decency to look at you when he did it, and that’s what made you most mad, because you knew that it wasn’t really what he wanted - he was just too much of a coward to give in to his own desires.

But who could blame him? You were being unreasonable, acting like it was simple when there were dozens of barriers between the two of you ever getting what you wanted.

“You don’t mean that.” Your voice was steady, cold. You were looking up at him, desperately searching his face for something, hoping that he had some magical solution that would make all of your problems disappear.

His gaze was on you now, his red eyes filled with a sadness that you could feel deep in your chest. “I don’t.” He agreed. “But I can’t let this go any further, for both our sakes.”

“But-”

He cut you off swiftly. “Please, stop making this difficult.” There was hurt in his tone. “It was easy when you hated me, it's unbearable now I know you want me too. Just- you have to stop. Please.”

You weren’t used to seeing Sukuna so dispirited, practically begging you for your compliance. He hadn’t struck you as someone who would be so considerate in the first place, the type of man who went for what he wanted with no regard for others, but here he was - unwilling to budge on this situation to make sure that both of you stayed safe.

“You’re going to marry one of those suitors, they’re going to look after you and make you happy, and I’m going to stand by and do my duty. Because that’s all I can do.” His voice was hoarse, and the pain in his eyes was filling your chest with anxiety. “I’m sorry, princess.”

His gaze stayed on you for a moment, evidently waiting to see if you were going to fight back, throw a tantrum at him like you used to. But when you remained silent he turned and left the room, leaving you with your heart in more pieces than it had been before.

No suitor was ever going to make you happy.

Not as long as Sukuna was still standing at your side.

—

The way that you’d taken to walking around the castle aimlessly after that encounter likely had most of the palace servants concerned. Maids and cooks would regard you with concern as they’d bump into you, taking in your mournful expression and looking at you with great sympathy when you’d tell them that you were fine, and you didn’t need their help.

No one could understand what had caused this sudden change in behavior, no one but Sukuna.

It felt like you were cracking. Sukuna’s distance from you was growing greater and greater, to the point where he wouldn’t even bother following you around the castle anymore, mumbling something about how you only really needed a guard when you were outside the castle walls - nothing bad was going to happen while you were in here.

That loneliness that Sukuna had temporarily lifted from your shoulders in the past few weeks returned in full force. Your father was busy, Yuki and Choso had gone off travelling again, and you were painfully alone. Shoko would listen to you in the brief moments that she’d come to attend to you, but it was evident that you weren’t really friends - she entertained you because she had to.

So that left you in complete misery. You hadn’t quite appreciated how much space Sukuna had been taking up in your heart, how used to his presence you’d become. Day by day you could feel your anxiety eating at you more and more, and you knew that this time you couldn’t go seeking him out at night to put it to rest.

Worst of all, in your many hours spent wandering the castle, you’d happened to overhear a conversation between some servant girls discussing your Knight, gushing about how attractive he was, one of them chiming in to say how she’d slept with him a few months ago, and that she was dying to do it again, bragging about how good he was in bed.

That made you feel like shit. If it was months ago then that was before he had become your Knight, but that didn’t make you feel any better. The realisation that Sukuna had slept with many women, but wasn’t willing to sleep with you, was an ugly thought that nestled itself into your brain.

He’d claimed that it was because of your roles, because of the potential consequences. But maybe that had just been a convenient way out for him.

Maybe you just weren’t good enough.

You weren’t enough for him, weren’t enough for your father. Maybe that assassin should’ve just killed you. What was the point of any of this?

“Are you okay princess? You’re looking a little faint.”

You’d been completely lost in your own mental spiral when you were approached by one of the palace workers. A new cook that had been hired around the time of the banquet. You’d seen him around pretty regularly lately. He had an unsettling appearance, with mismatching eyes and scars crossing his face and neck. But his food was top-notch, he’d been responsible for plenty of the dishes that were served at the banquet.

Concern was etched across his face, his brows furrowed. You’d been drifting down the hall nearest to the kitchen, an area that was generally only frequented by servants - he likely wasn’t expecting to see you there.

“I’m fine.” You said, trying to avoid sounding too aggressive. You had to be polite and princess-like no matter how bad you were feeling. But you were sick of being asked that question.

“Let me cook you something up.” He insisted, “you’re really not looking too good, you could do with getting some food down you.”

With very little fight left in you after the last few days, and the desire to be as polite as possible, you relented and allowed the servant to bring you into the kitchen. He sat you down at a chair in the corner, fussing over you while he cooked up some food.

The kitchen was quiet. It was early-afternoon, that transition period between the lunch servings and dinner prep when most of the kitchen staff took their breaks. Only you and the scarred servant, who had introduced himself as Mahito, were present.

You weren’t feeling particularly sociable - you hadn’t been feeling up for talking with anyone in a while, so you were relieved that Mahito seemed keen to mostly fill the silence with his own voice. You couldn’t really be bothered to listen, nodding along as he went on and on about his last post and how this job was so much better.

Your mind was elsewhere - focussed on Sukuna as it always was these days. No matter what you did, you couldn’t get him out of your head. Always picturing that infuriating grin of his, the one that sent your heart racing each time you saw it. Your mind kept straying back to the kiss, how pleasant his lips had felt against yours, how comforting his hand was as it ran through your hair.

With each passing thought you felt your mood deteriorate further. You wanted to experience that again, for him to hold you close at least once more. But he’d made it abundantly clear that wasn’t going to happen.

“You look so sullen.” You blinked a couple times as you looked at Mahito, barely registering that he was speaking to you. His hands were on hips as he stared down at you, standing over the pan of food that he was frying atop the stove.

“I’m fine.” You said with a shrug.

“The other servants gossip about you a lot, you know.” He said, turning back to the pan, pushing around the contents with a wooden spoon. You couldn’t say that came as a surprise to you. What else was there to talk about as a palace worker beyond the royalty that you serve?

“Yeah?” You asked tiredly, sensing that he was keen for you to engage with him. You just wanted to go back to your room, but the last thing you needed was him spreading gossip that you were rude.

“Mostly good things!” He clarified quickly with a laugh. “They talk about how kind and patient you are with your people.”

“That’s nice.” Thank the gods that was what they were saying, considering how much work you put into making sure you came across that way, anything else would be an insult.

“They’ve all been worried about you recently though. We’ve all heard the rumors that you’re going to be married off soon. You must be feeling anxious.”

“I guess.” You were beginning to feel a little uncertain about this conversation. You were always content to converse with servants, but it was generally very surface level, you wouldn’t tend to go too deep into your own affairs - allowing anyone to have too much knowledge about you was dangerous.

You’d only really been willing to make an exception for Sukuna.

“Who do you think your father will choose for you?” He asked, turning to look at you once more with a little too much eagerness in his eyes. He was clearly fishing for information, keen to share with anyone who would listen.

“I don’t know.” You said carefully. “And I’d rather not talk about it.” You made sure to keep your tone firm, leaving no opportunity for him to reopen the door to that conversation. You weren’t going to discuss your marriage prospects with a servant, especially not when your feelings around love and romance were so tender right now.

“Sorry!” He said, putting his hands up apologetically. “I didn’t mean any offense. My friends always say I get a little carried away asking personal questions!” There was something about his demeanor that was a little off-putting, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Perhaps he was just a little quirky.

He turned off the stove and dished up the food. He’d made a lovely plate of lamb and potatoes, a mint sauce covering the meat. You had only been eating the bare minimum lately, your appetite disappearing with the anxiety of everything that had happened with Sukuna, but the sight of this beautifully presented dish had your mouth watering.

“Eat up! You don’t want it to go cold.” He busied himself with cleaning up the cooking utensils while you dug into the food. The meat was so tender that it was practically melting in your mouth, and the potatoes were seasoned to perfection. You ended up wolfing down the whole plate in record time.

You leant back against the wooden chair as you took a sip of water from a glass Mahito had brought over, letting the food digest.

He was still talking to you as he cleaned, but the topic he was discussing was completely lost on you, because all of a sudden everything seemed very distant. His voice had been reduced to no more than an echo, and your head felt like it was swimming, your eyes starting to droop as though it were an active effort for you to stay awake.

For a moment, you’d assumed that your sudden condition was a result of your body being overloaded with calories after not having eaten in a while.

But as Mahito approached you, a sinister grin on his face, you realised just how dire your situation was.You opened your mouth, trying to call for help, but no sound came out - it was as though your tongue had swollen three times its size.

“Shhh.” Mahito cooed. “Just go to sleep princess, make things easy for yourself.”

You couldn’t give in, couldn’t let this man get away with whatever scheme he was trying to pull, but your body was growing heavier by the second, the poison had thoroughly taken hold. Dozens of new servants were always hired around the banquet, Mahito must’ve seized his opportunity, embedded himself within the castle staff all for this ultimate goal.

In your mind, you were vaguely aware of what your father had told you not so long ago - that one of Geto’s daughters had been held for ransom. If that was Mahito’s plan - if he was going to whisk you far away from the safety of the castle, you had to do something to help them find you. To help Sukuna find you.

Even if he didn’t want to be with you, he cared for you, didn’t he? He’d come for you.

As Mahito busied himself with tying up your wrists and ankles, you did the only thing you could think of in that desperate moment to send a message. Craning your head down, you clasped the necklace that Sukuna had bought for you between your teeth and tore it from your neck, letting it fall to the floor.

Maybe it could give him something, some hint of what had happened to you.

A moment later, everything went dark.

—

Sukuna felt like shit.

He shouldn’t have kissed you in the first place, it was wrong.

And yet, every moment of every day he had to actively convince himself not to do it again. Whenever he saw you, any moment that you were even remotely in his vicinity, he was thinking about how badly he wanted to touch you, to hold you in his arms and kiss you, and never let you go again.

But he couldn’t, for your sake and for his, he needed to stay away.

His decision on that had already been made the moment that he kissed you. He knew that it could only be a one time thing. Your roles were so inflexible, things would never work. But what really set his decision in stone was being called to the Throne Room that following morning to talk with the King.

The anxiety that he’d felt on the way to that meeting was through the roof. He’d been running through the previous night’s events in his mind, wondering if someone had seen the two of you kissing, if they’d told Kashimo about it. He was screwed if that was the case, your father would take his life without a second thought, or he’d have to flee the Kingdom in disgrace, and he’d never get to see your lovely smile or hear your pretty laugh ever again.

Luckily for him, Kashimo seemed completely unaware of Sukuna’s little encounter with you. Calling him to the Throne Room with a completely different intent in mind - but one that was equally as painful for him.

Kashimo had summoned him to ask for his thoughts on which suitor would be best matched to you. That’s right. Kashimo wanted him to help decide which man would get to have the joy of being with you. Which man would get to lay with you at night, which man would be able to kiss you freely, which man would get to be yours.

The list of suitors that the King provided him with served as a cold reminder of the fact that man wouldn’t be him. It would be Gojo, or Yuta, or god forbid Naoya, but it wouldn’t be him - and that thought made him want to rip his own skin off and slaughter every person in this castle until it was only you and him left.

But he couldn’t do that. You all had your roles to play, and he needed to stay away from you if he was ever going to come out of this with both his head and heart still intact.

So, as Kashimo asked him to give his suggestion, he mumbled that you’d be happiest with Gojo, knowing that of all the choices that was who you would hate the least. He knew that Gojo would be kind to you, even if he still despised the thought of you being at anyone’s side but his.

He’d listened to the King run through the other options before excusing himself, claiming that he needed to go and attend to his duties with you. Instead, he’d gone straight back to his room, breathing heavily and trying to centre himself as he thought about the road ahead of him.

He needed you to hate him once more, needed you to feel so cut-off from him that you’d never want him again. The temptation that he felt each time he saw you look at him with affection was too heavy for him to bear.

It felt like an impossible task, keeping you at an arm's length. Watching hurt blossom in your eyes each time he dismissed you felt like he was kicking a puppy over and over again. There were so many moments where he wondered if the two of you could run away - just leave this life behind once and for all. But this castle was all you’d ever known, he couldn’t steal you away like that.

Your affection for him was probably just a passing infatuation anyway, you’d get over it - he just had to do his bit and not let your attachment grow any further.

But that knowledge didn’t make it any easier, especially not when each day you would appear before him still wearing that hyacinth necklace that he had so gently placed around your neck, an ever-present sign of your continuing desire for him.

It didn’t help when you’d summoned him into your room either, practically begging him to acknowledge you, your voice shaking and your eyes filled with need. It had shattered him to dismiss you, to ask you to give him space, when your lower lip was wobbling and you looked so full of despair, so exhausted and lacking in hope.

He was glad that you’d stopped begging him when he’d asked you to, because if you’d just pushed him a little harder he would’ve broken entirely, taking you right there on your bed and proving to you just how badly he desired you.

But that would’ve been wrong, would’ve made the heartbreak of the two of you not being together worse, and he was already hurting so badly that he didn’t think he could cope with a pain worse than this.

It seemed that after your last conversation his message had gotten through to you. Though you seemed even more vacant than you had following the assassin’s attack, stumbling through the halls completely expressionless, completely lost in your own thoughts. It hurt him to see you that way, but maybe it was for the best.

Your hatred for him would grow, and you’d get over him. That was best for both of you.

It wasn’t until a servant came running up to him one evening that he realised that in keeping his distance from you around the castle, he might’ve made a grave mistake.

The cook in question, one of the longest-standing servants in the castle, had approached him with a look of great concern on his face. “Have you seen the princess anywhere?” He asked, panic seeping into his voice.

“No.” Sukuna said, fear already starting to rise in his chest. “She’s free to wander the palace alone - I haven’t seen her since this morning.”

The servant bit his lip anxiously, before holding out his hand, unfurling his fingers to reveal your hyacinth necklace. The chain was broken, as though it had been forcibly ripped off in a hurry. “I found this on the kitchen floor, a plate had also been smashed.” Sukuna’s heart was beating so fast that he could hear it in his ears.

“What happened?” He asked, not considering how pointless that question was - if the cook had the answers he wouldn't be coming to Sukuna to ask where you were.

“We’re not sure.” The servant said uncertainly. “But I rounded up all the kitchen staff and Mahito was missing. One of the serving girls said that they’d seen the princess talking to him this afternoon.”

“Mahito?” He asked, his hands were trembling with rage. How could he have been so stupid as to assume you’d be safe in the castle?

“Yes, he’s one of the newer cooks. Lots of scars on his face.” Sukuna knew of him, and had seen him around before the banquet. The man’s eyes had been on you often, to the extent that it had creeped Sukuna out a little. But it wasn’t unusual for people to look at you - you were beautiful after all, so he’d brushed it off.

Foolish. He felt guilt begin to eat at him. First he had hurt you by kissing you and then icing you out, and now he’d let you get hurt by not being there to protect you. Even though he’d promised that he’d always be there to keep you safe.

You deserved so much better.

He was going to get you back. No matter what happened to him, he was going to track down that scarred asshole and cut him up into little pieces, and then he’d make sure that no one ever laid a finger on you again.

Even if playing your savior was likely going to leave him heartbroken all over again.

next chapter | series masterlist

a/n: so sorry about how angsty this chapter is but I swear I'll make it up to you guys because I've got some big plans for the next chapter - hopefully I should be able to get it out next weekend :)

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