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itsharleystuff · 1 year

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↳ II. 𝘍𝘐𝘓𝘓 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘝𝘖𝘐𝘋

Read part one here.

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dbf!Joel Miller x afab!fem reader (no outbreak au).

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.6k (once again, I’m sorry)

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after your steamy encounter with Joel during your homecoming party, things between you have been stagnant. Although, fate seems to be on your side when both Sarah and your dad have to leave town for a short while.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), sex, p in v sex, Joel hits it from behind, blowjobs, some teasing, a bit of spanking, pet names (darling, sweetheart, honey), unprotected sex (pls do not attempt), cum eating, taking nsfw photos, Joel tries to be dom but fails, age gap (reader is twenty four, Joel is late forties), reader is kind of a brat, fluff and feelings (yes, this is a warning), alcohol consumption, brief mention of family death. Barely edited, sorryyy. No use of y/n.

—A/N: this can be read as a stand-alone but I suggest reading the previous part for a better understanding. Btw, there’s a couple of Easter eggs from the game in this! Also— I tried making a moodboard and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’ll probably stick to gifs in the future, lol.

“I like Indiana Jones," you babble, taking a sip from your coffee without looking at anyone in specific. "I was twelve and in love with Harrison Ford..."

"Okay, so that's one movie we're definitely not going to watch." Sarah chimes in, lazily chewing on her scrambled eggs. "How do you feel about Robert Pattinson?"

"That depends," you reply, moving your head side to side in a contemplative manner, "are we talking twilight or Harry Potter?"

You hear your dad snort on the other side of the table and see Joel chuckling beside him. Sarah crosses both arms over her chest and raises a brow at them. “What's so funny?"

"Nothing," your dad clears his throat and side-eyes his friend. "Just thought you two were a bit old for those crappy vampire movies. Maybe watch-"

"Forgive me, but I don't think it's a good idea to take recommendations from either of you," you cut him off, leaning back on your chair. "You're both obsessed with die hard, think The Godfather is incredibly complex and in your spare time watch construction programs. We'll be fine on our own."

"Touché..."

It's been three weeks since your homecoming party, and ever since then it has become a habit to have breakfast together every weekend. Today, Saturday, it was the Miller's turn to cook, which consequently had you and your father sitting at their table. As of now, you and Sarah were discussing your movie night, which had to be postponed due to her road-trip to San Antonio— apparently, she and her friend Ellie were going to visit some college campuses there.

It's also been three weeks since that little, hot encounter you and Joel had in your kitchen. And, contrary to your better judgement, both of you were more than eager to spend some extra time alone. Things since then had been uneasy, specially when being surrounded by others; always worried that someone might notice those stolen looks you'd share or sense the palpable tension that rose when you would stand too close to each other.

You try not to think about it. Except when you do. A swirl of memories would come flooding your mind in the most inappropriate moments, creating that heat that made you remember exactly how his fingers felt inside you, his tongue between your folds, the sloppy kisses and that feral, hungry look in his eyes while eating you out, touching you like you were the most precious thing on earth.

"How about pride and prejudice?" the girl wonders, standing up to clean her dishes and snapping you back to reality.

"Shit, I love period dramas!" your dad shoots you a reproachful glare at your language, but you chose to ignore it. "As a matter of fact, most of my designs are inspired by the Victorian and regency eras."

"Oh, yeah," Sarah recalls, "I remember I read about it in one of your blogs. Dad showed it to me, by the way..." Joel clears his throat loudly, making her giggle.

Although she had mentioned it before, it was still kind of weird that he acknowledged your work. At first you thought it was merely because he wanted to connect with you somehow, but lately he'd been asking if he could see your new sketches and would let you borrow some old magazines he had around the house. Your best friend, Sophie, mentioned he might've been trying to show his interest in you subconsciously. And she was that one psychic friend who believed in zodiac signs and angel numbers, so you decided to believe her.

In that moment, your dad receives an incoming call on his cellphone; he excuses himself and heads to the living room. Your eyes lock with Joel's, and the fact that he was uninhibitedly staring back at you drew a smug smile on your face.

"Are you interested in fashion, Mr. Miller?" he sulks out a dry 'no', but you could see him fidget with his watch nervously. "Pity. I thought maybe you could model some of my male designs."

Sarah genuinely cracks up at your comment, slapping one hand on the table. "You want dad to pose for you? Seriously?"

"Why not? I brought my Polaroid camera, I can get some very nice shots." You were partially joking, but deep down you just wanted to see how he'd react.

"I mean, I know dad's got his charm with women, or so they keep saying-"

"No way anyone says that," he rambles.

"But the idea of him modeling is probably the funniest thing I've ever heard."

The fact was that you didn't want to take pictures of him so anyone else could see them. You wanted them exclusively for yourself. A couple of naughty Polaroids to keep around for whenever you were aching for him —which has been nearly every fucking night since your arrival—.

"It was a silly idea," you finally agree, shrugging. Joel stands to take his things to the sink. "Do you really have to leave for the weekend? You're like, my only friend here."

"Uh, about that..." she leans in towards you and you can practically smell a scheme on her. "Would you be mad if I gave your number to someone?"

You can quite literally feel the man standing behind you tense up. "Huh?"

"Yeah, like... To a guy." She moves in her place, but there's still no answer from you. "He's my English teacher. His name is Will and he's super smart, young, really funny and very handsome, I might add. I believe he can be your new male model." Sarah adds that last bit with a grin.

When you turn your head to see Joel, there was a deep scowl etching on his face, his body remaining still as a stone.

"I don't know... As friends, maybe." You weren't sure why, but the idea of meeting anyone new didn't really sound appealing.

She opened her mouth to say something but before she could actually do so, your dad walked in again. He appeared upset, gesturing nonsense and muttering impassively.

"What's wrong?" your tone comes out concerned.

"I have a meeting in Boston," he sighed, resting a hand on your shoulder apologetically. "Apparently it's urgent and I have to catch the next flight if I want to be there by nightfall."

"Oh, don't worry," you smile at him warmly. "I understand. Besides, I'm an adult. I can manage a weekend by myself."

He nods, still seemingly aloof. "I know but- I just wanted to spend some more time with you."

And of course you wanted that too, but saying it out loud could literally bring him to quit his job. He was always very extreme when it came down to you.

"What time d’you leave?" his friend asks him.

"Half past four. Why?"

"I can drop Sarah off at Ellie's and then drive you to the airport, if you'd like." Such a caring friend, Joel Miller. So selfless. Helping your dad out, attending his daughter's every special need...

"Yeah, thanks a lot, man. Take care of my little girl while I'm away."

You see his eyes gleam with a mix of unknown emotions, "Will do."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The last few days had been no less than torment for Joel. Each moment that went by in which he didn't get a chance to be near you had him losing his mind. Badly. And it wasn't necessarily a physical thing— not always, at least.

Every morning, he would wake up and go to work, knowing for certain that when he comes back home he'll find you hanging around with Sarah or sitting out on your porch with a sketching notebook on your lap.

He liked to guess what you'd be doing.

Would you be playing board games with his daughter? Watching a movie or baking desserts? Maybe you were thrift shopping with your dad or simply going to the mall. And later on, when he finally gets to see you again, you'd tell him all about it.

Joel also liked to imagine what kind of clothes you'd be wearing. One thing he noticed is that you never stick to one particular style or aesthetic. One day you could be wearing pastel sundresses with ribbons in your hair; the next one could be long, black skirts paired with basic tank tops and multiple necklaces, or even something more extravagant, depending on your mood.

Seeing you was an experience— one that he could never get tired of. It's like every time he sets his eyes on you there's a certain color palette that changes constantly, or the feeling of gathering all your favorite songs into one playlist and then hitting the shuffle button. He never knows what to expect. Hence why he had given up on trying to relate you to the silly things around; like seasons, animals, artists or foods. Instead, he started associating you with feelings.

You were creative, unique and incredibly fearless. In a way, you made him feel uneasy, excited, thrilled, confident and many more emotions at the same time. If he had to describe you in one word, he'd say evoking.

Oh, how you pestered his brain.

He hated how much he thought about you, and how little guilt he felt from it.

Right now he was sitting on the drivers seat of his truck, waiting at the airport's parking lot. You asked him if you could walk your dad to his corresponding gate and he agreed. The downside: it had started to rain, probably not too bad for your dad's flight to be delayed but enough for your clothes to get soaked on your way back.

"Shit, I'm sorry," you muttered, shutting the passenger's door behind you. “The seats are gonna get all wet..."

"Here," Joel takes off his jacket to place it over your shoulders.

It feels warm and it smells like him, "Thanks."

He starts the car without saying anything else, keeping his eyes glued to the road. You, on the other hand, could not stop staring at him. Now that no one else was around, there was no shame in admiring his side profile, the way his muscles flexed and his hands grasped the wheel. There was something inherently attractive about men driving, but- Jesus... This image had your mind roaming around dark places.

Suddenly, realization sinks in— you're alone.

Alone with him.

"I, uh..." he taps the wheel with his thumb, still avoiding your gaze. "I wanted to take you out for dinner. The weather kinda ruined it."

The corners of your mouth hitch up in a silly smile. "Too bad. I really didn't want to be alone tonight."

Joel hums, appearing somewhat distraught. In reality, he was fighting for his life. The clothes you chose to wear today were not fitted for the rain; denim mini-skirt, high pair of boots and a white top that complimented your upper body. He tried not to look at the raindrops rolling down your thighs or note how transparent your shirt has become, forcing himself to stare at your hands and the many rings that decorated your fingers, seeing there the one he gifted you.

"How about you come over to my place?" you suggest, trying to catch his attention. "I'll need a shower and a change of clothes but... Maybe we can do something afterwards."

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, still avoiding your gaze, "Like what?"

This time your voice goes lower, a smirk spreads across your face and something in your eyes flickers; a darker, sensual spark.

"Oh, you know..." your hand carefully comes to rest on his knee. His thigh tenses but he doesn't say or do anything to push you away. "Whatever you want."

He swallows hard, feeling the pads of your fingers run circles on his leg, your nails mildly scratching over the jeans in a way that raises goosebumps on his skin and eases his nerves.

"I've got a better idea," he says, keeping his tone calm —barely—. "Why don't you come to my house instead?"

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Sure, but- what about my clothes?"

And then he smiles cockily, as if this had been his plan all along, "Wear mine."

Well, there was absolutely no way you were going to turn him down. With a bit more boldness, you slide your hand a few inches up his inner thigh, still rubbing soothing patterns. His jaw clenched, but remained silent and apparently unbothered.

"Joel?" his name rolled off your tongue sweetly, in a way only you knew how to. He uttered a 'hm?' in retort. "Did you miss me?"

"I've seen you nearly every day," he answers playfully.

You laugh, stopping your movements and simply resting your palm there. "So... No?"

"Didn't say that, darlin'." The truck suddenly stops at a red light as he exhales heavily, giving in to you at last. "But I'll let you guess."

A push and pull game, like a cat chasing a mouse. Your smirk widens. "I don't think so. Not as much as I have."

His eyes scan your body from head to toe, the way you sit with your legs slightly parted, back laying flat against the seat and face turned towards him with heated cheeks and low gaze. Unexpectedly, your hand draws back from his lap as you start looking through your purse and a frown forms on his face, baffled by the loss of contact.

"Which is why..." you take the Polaroid camera out and see a whole shift in his eyes, like he's about to burst in laughter. "I brought this."

"No," despite his categorical denial, you still held the object up.

"You have a green light," he curses under his breath and you hold back a chuckle. "Just let me have one, please."

He sighs in defeat, "Why'd you want that?"

The rain had started to settle down but the air was still pretty cold, all that could be heard besides your own voices being the drops that crashed against the car.

"Cause you're handsome," he rolls his eyes sarcastically. "And I like you."

Hell, you were always so straightforward. It made his heart jump inside his chest, wondering if it was gonna burst out.

"You won't like me as much once you meet that Will dude," Joel prattles through gritted teeth, remembering his daughter's suggestion from earlier.

"The guy Sarah mentioned?" your brows furrow subtly. "Why? What's up with him?"

He yanks his head to the side, glancing over at you for a second, "Nothin'. Just thinkin' out loud." In spite of your puzzled expression, he decides to grant your wish. "I'll let ya' take it. But only if I get one in return."

Your lips purse in a smile, "As many as you like, Miller."

He doesn't say anything in response, but his grin doesn’t fade either and you managed to capture it on paper. The image slowly started to become visible and your first thought was how well it captured the whole 'Joel Miller' essence. It was a simple photo of him driving with one hand on the wheel and the other arm thrown lazily over the backseat. That denim shirt hugged his arms exquisitely, the rolled-up sleeves adding to his appeal. He was looking at you when it was taken, so you could see more than half his face— and the way he was grinning, you couldn't help but think he appeared so much younger when he did that. The entire thing felt so much like him: snuggly, blue, genuine and you absolutely loved it.

"There," you show it to him as he started to pull over. "Isn't it nice?"

"Just keep it to yourself, aight?" the man grumbles.

"F'course," with a spark of joy, you slide the photo inside your wallet. "Wouldn't want anyone else peeking at that gorgeous smile of yours. That's a treasure of my own."

"Shut up-" he rumbled, turning his face the other way and opening the door, seemingly flustered. And out of all the amazing things you've accomplished in your life, making this rugged looking man blush was probably your greatest pride.

When he helps you out of the car, holding your hand firmly and cleaving to your waist; you wanted nothing more than to kiss him under the pouring rain, wildly and unhinged, just like last time. But this particular spot possibly had too many curious eyes of which you were unaware of. He obviously doesn't need to guide you through his house, since you already know nearly every corner of it, except for one. His bedroom. And apparently, that's the precise location he's taking you to.

"Please excuse the mess," he says, placing one hand on the door handle, "I haven't had a woman in here for ages, so I'm afraid I probably won't live up to your expectations."

"Joel," you snort, "it's been a decade and a half since you last dated anyone. Trust me, my expectations are pretty low."

He scowls, squinting both eyes. "You didn't have to say it like that..."

It's honestly better than you thought. His bed is nicely done, brown bedsheets striking as warm and welcoming; the walls were painted a pretty, light shade of blue that matched the grayish curtains on the left. The drawers in front of his windows had a bunch of stuff scattered on top of them: a CD player along with a few music discs, some papers, a cap and a pair of reading glasses, batteries, one screwdriver and a framed picture of him and Sarah at the beach. Meanwhile, the nightstand simply had one lamp and an alarm-clock on it. Over the bed's headboard were one poster of a music festival, the image of a landscape and an advert of what you guessed must've been a club, that read 'tacos and beer" on it. The door to the bathroom was on the right.

Messy, yet tidy at the same time. Very Joel-like.

"No way..." you murmur, eyeing the guitar beside his bed. "All this time I thought it was a myth."

"What?" he asks from behind you.

"Dad told me you used to serenade girls back in college and that you wanted to become a singer." A giggle escapes your lips, unable to contain it. "I remember saying he was surely making it up, but..."

"I didn't- I mean..." he clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck and feeling his chest swell with your laughter. "Oh, shut up!"

"Make me." The lingering, mischievous smile on your face made his heart pound and blood rush. "Come on, Miller. Shut me up, I dare you."

His eyes darken, but you don't falter for a second. He doesn't move a muscle, solely watching as you took off his jacket and threw it to the bed.

"You dare me?" his voice goes drops an octave, following your every move closely. "That's rather bold of you, sweetheart."

"Mhm," without breaking eye contact, you start taking off your boots. "And yet you're doing nothing about it."

Joel starts walking towards you slowly, holding your gaze intently. Your hair was damp and your clothes were still wet; it didn't really matter that the air was chilly cause you still felt warm all over. He soon invades your space, cupping your chin in his big hand and lifting your head upwards.

"Well, you're awfully quiet now, aren't ya'?" his hot breath fanned across your cheeks, the gap between your faces being basically invisible.

"I'm just waiting for you to start singing some random song by Alabama or Johnny Cash," you scoff. "Like a good ol' Texan ma-"

He doesn't let you finish the sentence, abruptly crashing his lips into your own. Joel isn't delicate about it and the fervor with which he kisses you makes your body stumble a few steps backwards. Your shoulders hit the wall and he pins you against it as your mouths find a way to mold perfectly, at a much nicer pace than last time. You throw your hands around his neck and let your fingers tangle in the curls around his nape, tasting the fresh mint on his lips. His hands rest on your hips, chests pressed together as the temperature kept rising with each second that went on.

You part your lips in order to grant him deeper access, feeling his tongue slide past your teeth and meeting your own in an ardent, heated way. It was perfect, until he broke apart, looking down at you with an asserted confidence.

"You really know nothing 'bout country music," he says in between shaky breaths, beaming. "S'that what you wanted?"

"Yes," you manage to say.

"Then say 'thank you'," Joel indicates petulantly, stroking your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Go on, don't be such a brat."

You blink twice, your brain still buzzing with the sensation of mouth on you, barely capable of processing anything else. "But I want more..."

"You'll take what I give you."

Shit, when he said it like that- "Thank you."

"That's my girl," he straightened his back, opening the door next to you. "Now, get your pretty ass in the shower before you catch a cold, 'kay?" You roll your eyes and hear him chuckle. "There's clean towers under the sink. You can take some clothes from my drawers, or Sarah's if you feel like it. I don't think she'll mind."

"Understood." He can tell you're annoyed, which he finds funny.

"Don't be mad at me, angel." Joel tugs a strand of hair behind your ear. "Promise I'll make it up to you."

You nod distractedly, lost in the cocky spark on his eyes. "I'm not mad. Just hoping you fuck me real good if you're making me wait for it."

Your words almost make him choke on his own saliva. "Sweetheart, you're making it real hard for me to be a gentleman."

It makes your ego boost, in a sense. "I'll be quick. Can you get something for dinner, though? I'm starving."

"Shit, darlin', pick a struggle," he mocks as you enter the bathroom, "are you horny or hungry?"

"Oh, you jerk!"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

6:15 pm.

You take a quick glance at Joel's alarm clock once you come out of the shower. It's been little more than an hour since your dad's plane took off. You hope the rain hadn’t made his flight any difficult, cause the weather turned out to be quite a blessing for you.

The cozy feeling of a nice, warm shower after being soaked under the rain was starting to settle in your bones, making your limbs relax. Then you realize, you smell like Joel. The scent of his soap, his shampoo, even his laundry detergent, is all over you. It's intoxicating in the most fantastic way possible, making your insides burn with a thrill of excitement. You took one on his flannels, —dark green with red stripes— and decided to wear it without anything besides your underwear. It was pretty big anyway, and covered just the necessary areas.

You slid your socks back on when all of the sudden you hear the faint sound of music from the floor beneath. Curious, you walk towards the noise, finding out Joel was in the kitchen, crouched down in front of the opened fridge. The CD player that you saw earlier on his room was now on the table, playing a melody that you recognized almost immediately.

"I like this song," you say, leaning against the wall. "That's Billy Idol, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he recalls, taking out a medium sized plastic box from the fridge. "Tommy made that mix. There's plenty of hits from past decades. I think you'll enjoy it."

The man finally turns around to face you and his face fails to hide his surprise. The way his prying eyes sweep your body in detail, taking his time particularly on your bare thighs, almost made you feel self-conscious if it weren't for that shadow of desire that crossed his eyes and the way his nostrils flared from a contained breath.

"How is he, by the way?" you ask, still on the subject. "Haven't seen him in a while."

"Who?" he clearly forgot what he had just said.

"Your brother," you call to mind, "how is he?"

Joel sets the box down on the table and drifts his gaze back to your face. "Fine, I guess. Last time we spoke he said he'd go to Dallas." He takes two glasses from the pantry and what it looks like a bottle of wine. "I-uh... There isn't any real food in here besides those strawberries and chocolates that this guy brought for Sarah. Should I order something?"

You shake your head and walk over to him, "This will do. Won't she get mad if we eat them, though?"

"Don't think so," he replies, pouring the red liquid into the glasses. "I'll blame you if she does."

"Oh, okay-" you cock an eyebrow at him and hold back a giggle. "Thought you didn't like wine."

"It's a fancy drink," he explains, "s'only for special occasions."

"Oh?" you take a sip from it, eyes boring into his. "And what's tonight's?"

Joel smiles conceitedly, jutting his chin out. "I've got you all to myself."

You snort, feeling the heat soar across your cheeks. He takes the snack box and with a sly gesture asks you to follow him into the living room, the melodic sound of the eighties tune turning to background noise as you do. The only lights on are the ones in the kitchen and the lamps beside the couch, shining a perfect light on his features.

"Come here," he calls, the leather squealing under his weight when he sat down. You set the glass down on the coffee table in front of the tv, going to sit next to him. "No, sweetheart," he grabs your waist and pulls you closer to him. "I meant here."

His legs part slightly, making room for you to sit on his lap. Your smile broadened toward a soft chuckle, settling yourself on his thigh. Joel immediately gets his hands on you, one on your lower back and the other merely resting on your upper leg.

"So, who's this mystery man that's been giving gifts to your darling daughter?" he scoffs in response, reaching for a chocolate from the box.

"Honestly? No fuckin' clue." You hum in surprise, drinking from your wine. "She never involves with them, thank god, and once they meet me they never come by again."

"I see,” you muse, “you're the overprotective type," you bite on a strawberry next.

"I wouldn't say it like that..." he sees the sarcastic glimpse on your expression and holds back laughter. "It's a dad reflex, I can't control it."

"Right, sounds convincing."

You stretch your arm behind the couch, setting your elbow and laying the side of your face on your palm. His face is very close to yours but all you do is simply stare at each other; Joel's big brown eyes glimmer with infatuation. “Can I ask you a question, sweetheart?" he asks lowly. "Somethin' more serious."

You wince in confusion, but still nod, "Sure."

He inhales sharply, taking a couple of seconds to actually say what he meant to. “Why are you here?" your frown deepens at his words. "I mean- Texas. I know you said you wanted to make up for the lost time with your old man, but... I feel like there's something else you're not saying."

It takes a minute for you to really sink in on his question. You nearly gulp down the alcohol before setting the glass down, avoiding his ardent gaze.

"Honestly?" you sigh, "There's so much to unpack that I don't even know where to start."

"Try." Although he didn't sound harsh, the effort he was asking you to put in wasn't something of your liking.

"Well, first of all," you meditate, clearing your throat, "the city didn't feel like home since my mom passed. It made me realize how much I missed here." He nods comprehensively, caressing the exposed skin of your thigh in a reassuring manner. "And then there's this- fear. Yeah, I guess it is fear... I've managed to accomplish so much in such short time that it actually fucking scares me to go any further and see that-" you stop, sighing and shaking your head. "That I've reached my limit."

For a moment, there's just silence floating between you, all that could be heard were the rain and a song by tears for fears.

"Darlin', look at me," he asks softly but you can't bring yourself to do it, embarrassed by your confession. "Please, let me see those pretty eyes of yours."

And it's practically impossible for you to deny him anything. Specially when he asks so nicely, when his hand grabs the side of your face so gently— you give in, just like that.

"You're afraid to succeed because you don't know what to do with yourself afterwards. Is that it?" You nod faintly. "Can I speak frankly?"

"I have a feeling you will anyway-"

"Yeah. A bit of tough love, but you need’a hear it." Joel strokes your cheek sweetly and you get shivers from the affection in the action. "Sweetheart, I know what you're going through. Shit feels like it's either moving too fast or not moving at all. And I know how scary that is. Trust me, there's still plenty of time for you."

You square your eyes to his, "Sure, bet you were frightened when you were twenty four."

"Terrified," he spoke truthfully. "Everyone I knew was getting married, moving out or working their asses off."

"And you?" he grunts, taking a strawberry from the box. "What were you doing?" Joel eats the fruit patiently, simply staring at you silently. "Come ooon, don't play hard to get."

"Gotta promise you won't laugh."

It's a tricky business for someone who makes fun of everything, and yet you simply reply: "I swear."

"Fine," he rasps out in fake annoyance. "I used to make my own guitars and- sell 'em sometimes. I'd also teach guitar lessons and horseback riding."

Your eyes widen in surprise and something flutters in your stomach. "Shit, that's actually pretty cool!"

He groans, rolling his eyes at the same time, "I told you not to make fun of me."

"No, no- I mean it." You shuffle on his lap, resting a hand on his chest. "And you sound passionate about it... Why'd you stop?"

The man shrugs his shoulders, tightening his grip on your waist. "It went well for a couple years but I eventually had to get something more solid. More so after Sarah was born." He takes a deep breath in, the smell of his own shampoo on your hair hitting his nostrils and catching him off-guard.

"You should teach me," you suggest with a smug grin. "I always wanted to learn."

"What, guitar or horseback riding?" he wonders, suddenly nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck.

"Guitar. I'm pretty good at riding, if you must know." You feel him chuckle against your body, his facial hair scratching your sensitive skin.

"We'll see 'bout that," his voice comes out husky as he starts kissing along your jawline.

Joel's common sense jumped out the window long ago, but the string of self control that kept him sane all this time couldn't bear the weight of you wriggling on top of him, semi-naked and with his scent all over you. Something primal took over him, a glimpse of possessiveness that he didn't believe himself capable of feeling towards you specifically. He wanted you to wear that flannel around town so people would look at you and know who it belonged to; whose bed you've been visiting. He wanted you to smell of his cologne so other men would know that you weren't free for them.

Your fingers run through his soft curls, messing his hair while he grabs the back of your thighs and manhandles you onto straddling his lap. He nips and licks over all your vulnerable areas, making your breathing start to labour. How could he possibly know this well the easiest ways to have you so desperate this quick? Leaning into his touch, yearning for him even with the smallest action? He wasn't aware of the answer himself, he just knew.

Joel instinctively throws his head back when you tug at his hair and seize the opportunity to duck down and lay a sweet kiss on his forehead. His hands coast up your thighs, splaying his fingers on your ass to squeeze the flesh. You hold back a giggle, kissing the curve of his nose before catching his soft, soft lips on yours.

He slides an arm around your waist, pressing his palm between your shoulder blades to keep you as close as possible. You feel your nipples harden when his tongue ran along your bottom lip— tauntingly slow, until you allowed him full access to your mouth, letting him taste the sweet mixture of wine and strawberries on your tongue. But his vehemence didn't make you any less eager, kissing him back with just as much passion and vigor, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip and mildly pulling at it with minor strength.

The action ignites a fire within him, seeing you on top, feeling your fingers roam around his cheekbones and along his jawline like you knew just how much fucking power you had over him... It was a new sensation, a new kind of desire he didn't recognize at first.

Joel's lips were swollen and his own excitement was starting to feel evident underneath you, which created a blunt ache between your legs. He usually appeared so big and mean, with those broad shoulders and permanent scowl on his face. Now, though... He seemed like he'd let you do just about anything with him, to him— it didn't really matter as long as you kept staring at him like that; through heavy lids, eyes sparkling with a profound, desperate need that spoke without words, saying 'only you get to see this side of me'.

You start grinding your hips against his, rubbing your clothed core above his growing boner in small, calculated circles as you shore yourself up with a hand to his chest. He merely admired you from his position, letting you have your way with him; all the while his gaze reflected patience, like he could take over the situation any second but enjoyed watching you lead.

"Joel," you call his name, leaning forward to kiss his chin, moving your lips all the way down his throat and feeling the nice scratch of his beard. Your hands grab the collar of his shirt as you come up to whisper in his ear: "Stay still."

Panting, he narrows his eyes in confusion, "What?" Though you don't give him enough time to figure out your words, getting back on your feet and parting his legs further with a light thump of your knee.

He observes your every move quietly, amused by your confidence and determination when you drop to your knees in front of him. Joel's cocky expression doesn't sway, not even when you drag your nails across his inner thigh, inching closer towards his very visible hard on. However, his body betrays him, selling a whole different story. His muscles tense, his jaw clenches and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"Stop being such a fucking tease," he hissed, refusing to place his hands on you.

"Or what?" you drawl, coming to rest your palm on his crotch. A simple, feathery touch that made his pulse accelerate.

"You'll regret it," he warns grimly.

"S'that so?" you start to unbuckle his belt, way too slow for his liking, tugging down the zipper of his jeans. "I think I can handle it."

He smirked, his hand slithers to the back of your scalp and forces you to lock eyes with him. "Don't test your luck, sweetheart."

You pout mockingly, doing exactly the opposite of what he was saying while dragging down the fabric just enough to free his cock. Your new found courage falters for a second, finally seeing him in all his size and girth. He was, by all means, a big one, the amount of precome oozing on the tip telling you just how much he loved being teased, despite whatever words came out of his mouth. The mere sight of it sent a new heated wave of slick between your thighs.

Joel mimicked your expression scornfully, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone, "Too big for ya'?"

"None of that," you wrap your hand around the base, not really applying any pressure; though the sole warmth of your touch was enough to give him goosebumps, "we'll make it fit."

"That's my girl."

With a chuckle, you lower your head to kiss the inside of his thigh, the pads of your fingers softly grazing the veins on his length. His whole body shudders, leaking onto your hand and letting out a subtle gasp as you spread kisses all along his shaft. Your eyes peer into his soul when you gently place your lips to the slit, tasting the salty precome as he calls your name in what resembles a desperate plea. In a swift move, you finally take the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and deciding to put an end to his suffering. He mutters a gruff 'fuck' when you attempt to take him farther, pumping what you couldn't yet fit and snaking your free hand under the hem of his denim shirt to caress the soft skin of his belly.

"Shit, darlin'-" you feel the heaviness of his palm simply resting on the back of your head, not pushing or forcing you in any way, but allowing you to adapt to his size. "The only way to get ya' to stop talking is with a mouth full of cock, ain't it?"

You hum in response and the sensation is completely enrapturing for Joel, his callused fingers tangle in your hair to ground him as he releases a shaky breath. It's a huge challenge to focus on anything else but him; your mind whirring with a familiar dizziness while you bob your head up and down his shaft, intoxicated by the taste of him, the smell of him and every sound that escapes his lips, making your clit throb with need and your arousal pool in your panties, uncomfortably sticking to your skin.

For Joel, it's overwhelming.

He's never really been the noisy type during sex but heck— you were doing it for him. He's a panting mess above you, his hips buck ever so slightly in tandem with your mouth, trying not to lose it entirely. Your spit drools down his dick and the way your dark, dilated pupils sparkle with lust as you hollow your cheeks around him pulls a groan deep from his throat.

"That's it, you can take it," he coaxes when your nose nudges his pubic bone, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. "Good fuckin' girl, just like that..."

Enticed with the praise, you keep repeating the motion, sliding one hand to hold his hipbone for support and feeling his burning skin under your touch whilst the other plays with his balls to aid his pleasure. The obscene slick sounds mix in the air with his hoarse cursing, the rain and the faint music of kings of leon, sex on fire.

He looks so good from this angle, chest rising and falling with heavy, irregular breaths, head thrown back and both hands on you, keeping you angled for his cock. Drops of precum roll on your tongue as you keep changing the pace at which your head moves, tears welling in your eyes and jaw going slack. Shit, you're aching for him so bad that the only thing you can think of to relieve the need is squeeze your thighs together in order to create some friction. And it works, the action eliciting a moan from you that makes him fucking whimper your name.

"Bet your cunt's drippin' just from sucking my dick," he muffles a laugh that turns halfway into a sigh when you pay special attention to the ruddy, sensitive tip. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum-"

You can tell he is by the way his cock twitches in your mouth; his spine straightens at the heat gathering between his legs and he tries to pull you off against your will, uttering a warning that you chose to ignore. Joel's lips part in a throaty groan when he reaches his high, feeling the outline of your fingers digging harshly on his hip, your hand rubbing his length and your tongue lapping at his slit, taking in every single drop of his release until he's spent, right before pressing a soft kiss to it that makes him shiver. And hell— contrary to others, he tasted good; warm and thick, coating your senses.

His heart beats aggressively against his ribs and he loosens his grip on your hair, allowing you to get back on your feet while resting your hands on his waist. Although his eyes are barely open, he can quite literally feel your smile when you chastely kiss his lips. He chuckles breathlessly as you sit beside him, tugging himself back in his pants.

"We're not done yet," he says, grabbing the back of your knee and promptly engulfing your leg around his waist, maneuvering your body so that your back rests against the couch and he's crouched down, caged in the middle of your thighs. "I said I'd make it up to you and I will."

"Well, you've certainly got some stamina in you, old man," you poke fun at him, raising a hand to move those rebellious curls away from his eyes.

Joel smiles, caressing your cheek affectionately. "Always got somethin' to say, don't ya'?"

"Oh, Mr. Miller," you coo, enveloping your arms around his neck, "we both know just how much you love to hear me talk."

"Mhm," he leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth, "yes, I reckon you're right."

His big hand covers nearly half of your face as he holds you still, crashing your lips together. He kisses you deeply, vigorously, in a way that makes you wonder if you could possibly drown in a person's essence. His other palm slides between your bodies to start undoing the buttons of the flannel —his flannel— you were wearing. You can't help but whine when he draws back, watching you from above.

"Joel-" blood rushes through your ears and can feel your cheeks warm up as he takes in the sight of you, his fingers coasting down your throat and to the valley of your breasts, licking his lips when he sees your hardened nipples.

"You're fuckin' beautiful," he speaks freely, without holding back emotion, and it makes your heart skip a beat. "Such a sweet, sweet girl I can't get enough of."

"Then take a picture," you purr, "it'll last longer."

He stares at you through a measuring squint, a lighthearted smile forming on his face. "Since you insist." It takes a moment for you to realize what he means, until you finally recall that there's actually a camera inside your purse; one that he reaches for. "If I remember correctly... You said I could take as many as I like."

You lightly squeeze his waist with your thighs, feeling your whole body burn with anticipation. "I did say that..."

"Let's just pray your dad won't find these hanging around," he ponders, turning your face slightly to the side. "He'll have my head."

"And that would be terrible..."

He takes the Polaroid with one hand, the other coming to grope your breast as he backs off for a better angle, ultimately deciding to wrap his fingers loosely around your neck instead, purely holding you there. You glance at the lens, making your best "fuck me" eyes added to a cheeky smile, hearing him curse under his breath prior to snapping the picture.

"You've got the prettiest fucking tits I've even seen, sweetheart," he snarls, laying a palm flat over your lower abdomen while he waited for the photo.

"Has anyone ever told you you've got such a marvelous way with words?" he suppressed a laugh, safeguarding the picture on the back pocket of his jeans.

"Just a few women." Before you can even begin to act annoyed, he sets the camera aside and leans down to kiss your collarbones, the pad of his thumb kneading circles around your sensitive nipple. "Look at you, honey," he murmurs, "you're so easy to please... Or is it just because of me?"

You're panting, your back arching in response to his constant ministrations, every inch of your skin blushing under his attention. "I think it's-" you're cut off by the sudden need to swallow when he sucks a mark on the vulnerable skin between your breasts, "you."

His body vibrates with a laugh and you feel his hand palm your clothed sex, dragging his tongue over your delicate nipple, gently nibbling at it. You screw your eyes shut and let a single, fluttery moan slide past your lips when his thumb nudges your clit.

"So wet just from giving head?" Joel shakes his head in fake disapproval. "Who knew you were such a horny little thing?"

You are holding onto his bicep for dear life, fearing you might collapse into oblivion if you part from his body. His index glides across your slit over the drenched cotton fabric, making you squirm beneath him.

"You- you tasted good," you babble, mind all over the place.

"Yeah?" his chest swells with pride, "you should taste yourself, angel," his mouth travels across your abdomen, "sweetest thing I've ever had."

It's pointless trying to conjure a response, you're simply too far gone by now. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and buries his head between your thighs, flattening his tongue against the bundle of nerves. You whimper, running your fingers through his locks and bucking your hips to meet his face.

"Please," you blurt out, "Joel, please..."

"What, sweetheart?" he asks, moving the underwear aside to directly touch your clit, fondling it as he watched your slick coat his fingers. "What do you want?" But you can't conceive an answer, all that could come out of your mouth were those pathetic, desperate moans. "Use your words."

With his free hand he plays with your nipple, grabbing your breast with his entire hand. "I want you."

He tauntingly moves his fingers around your seam, refusing to go any further. "Say it again."

"I want you, Joel."

Cocky bastard.

He licks his fingers clean and starts getting off the couch, leaving you with a confused, dumbfounded expression that nearly makes him crack up.

"You didn't really believe I'd be fucking you on the couch, did ya'?" he teases, but all you can muster up is a barely audible 'oh'. "Come on, let's take this to my room. And don't forget to bring that camera of yours."

Mind still dazing, you obey his instructions, following him silently upstairs as he undoes the buttons of his shirt. For a second, he glances back at you, gifting a soft, reassuring grin before extending his arm to grab your fingers, holding your hand in a pure, intimate touch.

And just for that moment, you forget that he's actually your dad's oldest friend, that he's Sarah's father or any other thought of the sort. He's just Joel. Joel Miller, the only man that has managed to make you feel butterflies in the pit of your stomach, or that made you blush with merely a few compliments.

"Ask me to kiss you," he urges, taking the camera from your hands and carefully placing it on his bedside table, his eyesight fixed on you.

"Kiss me," you don't ask, you downright beg.

He does, though it's not like the previous times. He's tender, almost languid about it. His hands are on your bare hips while yours cup his cheeks; Joel's fingers reach to remove the flannel from your shoulders and moves his lips to the newly exposed skin, murmuring constant admirations. You feel your lungs clench and a tingly sensation on your lower belly.

"I'll take care of you, darlin'." You let the shirt slide down your arms and fall to the floor. "Gonna show you what you've been missin' out on by fooling around with those stupid boys." His words go straight to your core as he takes a step back to sit on the edge of his bed. "Take them off," he gestures to the last piece of clothing on your body.

You compel to his wish, stripping under his prying eyes while he lazily gets rid of his boots. His lips twitch in a smile when he sees the glistening mess he's made of you, promptly dragging you on top of him. Your hands lay flat on his exposed chest shortly before he switches positions, readjusting you on the middle of the bed.

"Joel, please just-" you whine when he keeps playing with your entrance, stretching you with his fingers. Your skin scorches with desire, knees weak from the growing heat on your lower body.

"Stop nagging, sweetheart," he grits through his own lust, his gaze impossibly dark. "I wouldn't want to hurt you."

"Joel, I'm too worked up, I-" you gasp when he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that particular spot that made your toes curl. "Fuck..."

"Come on, baby." He ducks down to kiss the skin behind your ear and his beard tickles nicely. "It's just the two of us now, feel free to be as loud as you need to."

His pants are undone and hanging loosely on his hips, the image being so blatantly erotic that only managed to get you more aroused as you fumble to get rid of his shirt. He chuckles at your eagerness, shrugging it out of the way and haphazardly kicking off his jeans and underwear altogether, discarding them on the floor with the rest of the clothes.

You take a second to revel on his naked figure, his tanned skin, broad shoulders and sturdy chest, the marked collarbones and every noticeable mole. His hair is messy from your fingers, a thin layer of sweat sticks some curls to his temples as his wild, hungry eyes bask in the view of your sopping pussy when he parts your shaky legs further. But the moment of appreciation is brief, both of you being edged and spurred on.

He maneuvers a hand to your lower back and aligns your hips with his, watching the way your hole drips for him, wetting his bedsheets. You're a panting mess beneath him, lightly scratching his shoulder-blades and biting on your bottom lip, looking up at him doe-eyed and all splayed out for him to take. Joel wants to tell you just how badly he's longed for this— how he's been yearning to have you so achingly bad. But right now, feelings overrun his thoughts, especially after hearing his name spilling from your lips, begging for him to take you.

"Relax, darlin'." Joel teases your slit with the head of his cock, rubbing it along your sex and coating it with your slick. Your head tilts backwards, dipping on his pillows, small whines keep spilling from your mouth. "I won't go easy on you."

"Great, cause I don't want you to-" your slurred words get muffled by the sudden feeling of intrusion as he finally buries himself in your cunt, letting out a filthy, guttural groan.

You close your eyes, feeling lightheaded and staggered from the way he was filling you up so nicely, the stretch being a tad painful at first, but the kind of pain that could only ever feel good. Then your whole body quivers from head to toe.

"That's it, you can take it," he mutters, peppering kisses to your chin and collarbones as he bottoms out. "Fuck, you feel divine-" The tight, warm grip you welcome him with resembles nothing he's ever had before. This is new, this is you.

You bear down on his cock, enveloping your legs around his waist and lifting your hips to encourage him. He holds you down with a firm grip around your neck, starting to set a pace with his hips as he draws out and then back in slowly, roughly, making your back arch. Your erect nipples brush against his strong chest and create a delightful friction that has you moaning louder than you could've expected. You're amazed by the way he thrusts into you, somehow mindful to hit every right spot inside you —needless to say that it was something that others could hardly manage before—, his pubic hair tickles the skin below your belly button, sending shivers down your spine that prompt you to drag your nails down his back.

"Look," he indicates, despite your inability to even think straight. "Look," he repeats harshly, using the hand that was on your hips to tilt your head downwards, forcing you to stare at where your bodies connected. It was obscene, the wet noises of your pussy and skin clapping against skin sounding purely pornographic. "Look at the mess you're making."

"Joel, I-" you can't form sentences properly, all your attention being focused on how good he's making you feel. "I'm so close, for god's sake..."

"Lemme help with that," he speaks breathlessly, pining your leg over the crook of his elbow to make his thrusts deeper, more precise. You cry out in bliss, feeling the heat expanding from your stomach to your legs. "Yeah, you're close, I can fuckin' feel it- fuck..."

Your walls flutter around him, squeezing his dick just right. He knows he's in too deep when you call out his name like it's the only word you can remember, when he wallows in the glorious view of your pretty face contorted in pleasure. He looses the grip on your neck and strokes your lower lip with his thumb, prodding you to keep eye contact as your orgasm washes over you. It's electrifying, a feverish kind of sensation that gratifies every nerve on your body.

He rests his forehead on your shoulder, overcame by the intense feeling of euphoria that your body was providing. You realize in that moment that the reason why Joel could fill that void so easily was because he kept prioritizing you above him. Your pleasure was his, too.

"Jesus Christ, Joel-" you mewl when he abruptly pulls out, “… Worth the wait.”

He laughs shakily, kissing your lips shortly. "Turn around, sweetheart. I want to fuck you from behind."

With a buzzing dizziness, you follow his instruction. God, right now you'd do just about anything if he asked you to. You notice movement from his part and patiently wait with your butt up in the air for him to stuff you again; instead, you hear the familiar clicking sound of the Polaroid camera.

"You fucker," you chuckle, "did you just take a picture of my ass?"

"Couldn't help myself," he groans, caressing the soft flesh before lightly slapping it. "You look too damn gorgeous." The hit on your skin burns nicely and you can't hold back the gasp that escapes your lips.

"Shit- do that again..."

You can practically hear his smile when he talks, "You into that?" he repeats the action with a little more force and the pain sends a shock of pure pleasure between your legs, your own fluids dripping down your thighs. "F'course you are, I should've guessed with that attitude of yours."

He plays with your swollen pussy, enjoying your tiny moans and the way your legs tremble as you fist the sheets underneath you, burying your face on his pillow when he spanks you again— this time so hard that it probably left a mark. But before the sting washes away he takes the opportunity to enter you in one swift move, holding your hips steady and trailing his fingers along your spine.

"That's my sweet girl," he praises a midst, starting to grind his cock inside you. "Taking me like you were made for it."

This is way more intense, the angle allowing him to hit deeper, harsher. His gruff moans become more frequent as he speeds up his pace, letting you know just how good you were making him feel. The sensation was purely fantastic, melting every thought away and just leaving Joel Miller to fill you in every sense of the word. His hands are never still, roaming your responsive areas, caressing the most sensitive and always taking care of your aching clit.

You might cry from the overwhelming ecstasy— the way his tip constantly hits the depths of your cunt with each relentless thrust has you seeing stars. Joel gets a thrill from the way you can't seem to get enough of him either, throwing your hips back to meet his unwavering pace, clawing at the pillows and moaning helplessly, pushing him close to his climax.

"Joel, it's too much..." you mumble. "Please, I can't-"

He hunches over you, kissing your nape to ease the overpowering sensations, "Yes, you can. You're a big girl, you can take it." And then your vision goes blurry, all you're able to hear being his disjointed, lewd moans; all you can feel is his hard, hot body flushed to yours, his cock twitching inside you and the wetness of your own body. "That's it, give me another one, baby- fuuuck..."

The buildup is so strong you nearly collapse, feeling yourself tremble as he chases his orgasm, fucking you through yours. His fingers reach your bundle of nerves and apply barely any pressure, which has you coming undone in seconds, absolutely soaking his dick and the sheets beneath you, chanting his name like a prayer. A string of curses falls from his lips as he pulls out and quickly manhandles your fucked out self to lay on your back. He exhales sharply through his nose, spilling his load all over your stomach without even touching himself.

You both stay there for a while, catching your breath and looking intently at each other’s eyes before he rolls over, going limp beside you. You stare blankly at de ceiling, suddenly feeling aggressively aware of your sticky skin covered in sweat and cum, the numbness on your lower body that will surely feel sore in the morning and all the marks he's left dispersed on you. You feel satisfied, fulfilled even. Joy bubbles up your chest and comes out in form of a giggle, one you're unable to hold back.

"What?" he asks, turning his face towards you with a half-smile.

"I don't know, I just..." you shake your head, still laughing. "I don't know."

He chortles in disbelief, holding out a hand to take some tissues from the bedside drawer and going to swipe his mess off your tummy and inner thighs. "Shit, I think I might’ve just fucked the sense out of ya'."

Joel sets himself between your parted legs, laying the weight of his upper body on top of you, resting his chin on your chest, eyes boring into yours. He looks so young like this, despite the greying hair and the small wrinkles, his beautiful brown orbs sparkle ever so brightly under your attentive gaze.

"What will your dad say when he returns and finds out his only daughter has completely lost her mind?" he jokes, cradling you in his big arms.

"Come on," you roll your eyes playfully, "we both know that if I had been in my right mind since the beginning, I probably wouldn't be in your bed right now." He doesn't reply, but his smile doesn't fade either. Joel nuzzles his face on the crook of your neck, kissing your pulse zone briefly before closing his eyes. You run your fingers through his hair, softly massaging his scalp in utter silence.

The wind was howling outside, rustling the tree branches, but at least it wasn't raining anymore. You can feel Joel's heart beating against your ribs, his deep breaths fanning across your shoulder and his unique scent all around you, on you. In spite of the cold air, your naked bodies are warm enough to stay comfortably in this position, at least for a while— however, there's something deep inside you that doesn't want this moment to end.

"Hey," you call him lowly and he hums in response, "can we order pizza?"

He nods faintly, "Anything you want, honey."

Anything.

If only.

"I'll call," you say. "Any specific requests?"

"As long as there isn't any pineapple on it, we're fine." You glance down at him, almost appalled.

"You don't like pineapple on pizza?"

"No. That's disgusting, come on."

"Oh, grow up!" he opens his mouth to retort, but when he sees your dismayed expression he can merely bark a laugh that you get infected with.

"Order whatever you want," he whispers in your ear. "But you'll have to promise something."

"What's that?" you raise an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Say you'll stay," he murmurs, slightly hesitant. "Stay here and spend the night with me."

The proposal takes you by surprise, so much that you actually stopped breathing. You ponder wether if you could or you should; because, at the end, what would a night really mean? What could possibly change?

Nothing, right?

Besides, no one had to know.

(...)

A few moments later you're downstairs looking for your phone, wearing nothing other than his green flannel. Joel decided to take a shower while you ordered the food and you chose to walk around the house, paying attention to the little details you hadn't quite noticed before.

Now that you see it, there are plenty of horse images here and there. Very Texan of Joel, you can't deny. Lots of pictures of Sarah growing up, some of him and Tommy and a good deal with your dad. None of his ex-wife. In fact, there's no proof that she even existed. You decide not too think too hard about it, since it was none of your business after all.

You pour yourself a glass of water and wander your eyes across the amount of pills he usually takes. Anxiety pills, painkillers, vitamins. What could possibly be troubling this middle-aged man so bad? Again, you decide to turn a blind eye and simply pick up the phone, expecting a message from your dad to tell you he arrived in Boston well and safe. Instead, you find that your direct messages in social media have new requests. Curious, you open them to see what the fuzz was about.

Hi!

This is Will

I don't know if Sarah mentioned me...

I'm her English teacher, haha

I hope you don't find this creepy, your profile popped up in my 'people you may know' section and since Sarah said she wanted to introduce us, I thought I might just say hi 😉

Honestly, with everything that went down you had nearly forgotten about Sarah's 'you should hang out with people your age' speech. And now that you were stalking his profile, he appeared to be maybe a couple years older than you— handsome in a boyish, intelectual way, if that made sense. Apparently, he studied in New York too, and lived in Queens.

Hi!

Yeah, I reckon she did

What's up, Queens? :)

You don't really expect a reply, not giving much thought to anything in the moment. Though, an involuntary smile twitches your lips when there's a quick message that reads "Not much, Brooklyn" and the writing bubble underneath.

After all, having a friend in Austin wouldn't hurt.

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #dbf!joel #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #the last of us au #smut

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kiwanopie · 2 years

Note

pls pls pls brat tamer yuta

thought about brat tamer Yuuta and blacked out. this was in my docs for some reason when I came to again.

Don’t be so mean to Yuuta!

cw: brat tamer! yuuta x fem!reader. smut. pussy slapping. multiple creampies. praise. edging. overstimulation. mirror sex. man handling. floor fucking. minors do not interact.

wc: 1.7k

“Please, I’m-“

“Sorry?”

Yuuta’s voice sends shivers up your spine from where his lips are planted on the sensitive spots of your nape, making hot tracks as his tongue skims over a good spot.

“I bet you are, baby.” He hums. “My sweet girl…”

Doesn’t mean he’ll let up though. If the way his grip tightens over your torso should mean anything. Tucked underneath you on the corner edge of your bed with your back pressed against his chest and his hands touching everywhere.

You don’t know what you did to deserve this. Actually, you know exactly what you did to deserve this, but you didn’t expect he’d be so harsh about it. Let him tell it and he’ll say his “Bratty baby decided to be mean for no reason.” Let you tell it and:

“Why’re you dodging my kisses?”

You roll your eyes from where he’s pouting over you, pointedly shrugging his hands off of your waist when he tries to pull you closer to him. “Why would I want your stupid kisses?”

Yuuta gapes a little at that, a little confused, a little wounded. “My kisses aren’t-? Where’s this attitude coming from?”

“I don’t have an attitude.” Which Yuuta finds hard to believe, with how your face gets all scrunched up in his attempts to crowd you in his space again. Cute little bottom lip jutting out under the shine of your flavored lip gloss and he can’t help but wanna coo at how squeezable you look when you’re throwing a fit.

Although, with the mood you’re in he fears he might come up short a hand if he actually tried to. The way you turn your shoulder at him has him following on your heels like a lost dog. “Not like you’re asking ‘cause you care.”

“Hello? Why wouldn’t I…?” Yuuta stumbles. “Baby, what? You were fine just earlier, did I do something wrong?”

Other than blow you off for like eighty percent of the day? Sure, he invited you to watch him train - bought you lunch when he realized he’d be at it longer than he anticipated, and gave you his phone to entertain yourself with when yours eventually died from being out so long. But he promised the two of you would actually get to hang out today! Not sit on those stupid stone bleachers till your bottom got all sore. Feeding him water in between breaks and pretending like this isn’t the unteenth time something like this has happened.

You’re fed up. He never wants to do what you want anymore. “No, no. Don’t even worry about it. You must be tired anyway. What with all the training you got in.”

Yuuta briefs a few long strides till he’s standing in the pathway to your bedroom door, walking back on his heels as you try to push past him. “I’m not? Is this about that? I didn’t mean to keep you out all day if that’s-“

“It’s whatever.”

“No. It’s not whatever. Clearly you’re upset.” His eyes follow you as he finally plops himself on top of your mattress. Yuuta’s long legs hang off the side so much his knees bend a little and he slumps when you opt to ignore him in favor of fishing your closet for something more comfortable.

“Baby- I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what’s going on. What’s got you all cranky?”

“Cranky.” You grumble under your breath. “Can't even be mad without you underplaying everything.”

You step out of your closet with a little dress on that makes his face hot. Pretty mint thing that makes you look softer than you already are, even as you throw him a mean glare on your way to your hamper.

“So, you are mad?”

“I’m not.”

“You totally are.”

“I’m not.” You hiss this time. “Maybe you’re just an asshole!”

Whoops.

Which, come to think of it, maybe blowing up at him for no apparent reason was a little much - but it can’t be helped. Especially when you immediately freeze in place over the tension that overcomes the room at your sudden outburst. Yuuta’s brows furrow as his jaw clenches and he stares at you with the kind of blank look that usually comes about when he’s mulling over something.

You expect him to get up and leave the room. Let your respective parties cool off after you’ve just crossed the line by cursing at him so harshly. You expect a kinder punishment than the one he actually has in store.

But instead Yuuta sighs and straightens his back, spreads his legs a little to make room for you. “Come here.”

“Yuu-“

“Mh. Sit down.”

This is just cruelty.

You whimper at the way his fingers skirt over your aching clit, wet sloppy sounds of your lips parting over his glossy digits as he feels around your gooey center. You’re dripping. Soaking the little sliver of mattress you’re hovering over but the meanest part is that it isn’t just your slick that’s making such a mess.

Through misty eyes do you still see the reflection of his throbbing cock splitting you open in the vanity mirror across the room. Slow rhythmless grinding that could just barely push you over the edge if it weren’t for all the-

Smack!

You must’ve been squirming again.

Your broken voice clips in tandem with the loud slap that comes from his sudden assault on your aching pussy, nigh earning another one at the way your hips jump too suddenly in his lap. This is your punishment. Watching in lust dazed envy as your lover fucks you slowly on his cock. Listening to his heated breaths, feeling his hands all over you, being wholly enveloped by him. His voice pitches as his cock swells in your already gooey insides. You can do nothing but whine as he belts his arms around you and cums again with a broken grunt in your ear.

You sniffle as he presses a few scattered kisses behind your ear, already raising his hips to continue. “Please… please let me cum, Yuu..”

“Hhm? No one’s stopping you?”

“But I need-“

“What’dya need an asshole like me for, pretty girl?” And even though he’s being bitter his tone is still sugary. “This little princess cunt can cum all on her own, huh?”

The way you tighten around him has him groaning drunkenly in your ear. “God, you feel so fucking good..”

“Yuutaa, I can’t- I can’t without you. Please…!!”

Yuuta breathes a sigh into the crook of your neck.

He’s been going at this for what feels like forever. At this point you’re so on edge that you’ve started to goosebump and you can’t help yourself but to twitch and whine whenever he grinds against a good spot. Through the overstimulation he’s unsatiated. He can’t fuck into his perfect little pussy the way he wants without risking you getting away with that nasty attitude of yours. Hurting his feelings like you did. And being anything other than his sweet - obedient little girl.

Because bad girls. - Brats like you don’t deserve to get fucked all nice and fair like you’ve been begging him to this past hour or so. They don’t deserve gentleness on their raw little clits or any moment of reprieve you should expect from taking load after load since being seated in his lap like this.

They deserve to be treated like a hole, because that’s all you’re good for right now.

The quick intake of breath he takes startles you almost as much as the feeling of your arms being pulled back behind you. You wobble a little on your numbing legs as he uses his knees to help support you in a stand, and shutter as he presses one last kiss to your nape before standing to his height completely.

And then he starts drilling.

Yuuta has to keep his eyes from rolling back at the way he watches your reflection drool. “O-Oh! Oh, yes! Oh fuck yes, baby!”

He keeps a concentrated frown as he thrusts into you through clenched teeth.

“You’re so-“ Pap! “Fucking spoiled,” Pap! Pap! “You can’t even…mfh, act like you’re learning anything fr’m this..!”

”m’sorry..” You babble. “So s-sorry! M’so sorry, Yuu. So-… p-please… fffuck! Fuck fuck fuck!”

“S’that all you can say? Does my brat even know what she’s apologizing for?”

Your face drops out of view of the mirror when the effort to keep your neck craned up becomes too muscle consuming, most of your muscles too busy constricting and spazzing in the wake of your first orgasm. Honestly, you barely have the wherewithal to speak let alone put together a coherent thought. But you figure not responding might come at the expense of the mind numbing bliss you’re experiencing at the moment.

“F’being so mean! I didn’t-“ You gasp at the way he presses his hips against your backside, grinding himself in so thoroughly that you nearly lose your train of thought.

“I just… wanted ta spend more time with you, Yuu…!”

Yuuta pauses a quick pensive beat.

And then you’re on the floor.

He presses a hand into the middle of your back to keep you arched all prettily for him, the other, knuckle deep in your hair as he mushes your cheek into the floorboards. “So, y’ thought the best way to do that was to call me an asshole?”

“I whasn’t ‘hinking…!”

“Ohh of course you weren’t, baby,” Yuuta shudders at the way you feel creaming on him a second time. “‘Can’t be doing too much thinking now, anyways.”

You’re every nerve ending in your body when he deepens his thrusts to curve himself over your messy form, completely and utterly lost in pleasure as he pulls your head up by your hair and meets your teary eyes with his own - pupils dilated by pure affection.

“Think you can tell me what we learned outta all this? Or have you completely checked out at this point.”

“D-Don’t… don’t be so mean to Yuuta!!”

He chuckles. The kiss he places over your ear nearly pushes you over the edge as much as what he says does. “Good girl! That’s my girl. So smart.”

Your eyes roll as he unceremoniously drops your head to fuck you with more earnest. Much to your poor pussy’s dismay. “Let’s spend more time together, baby. - Just you and me.”

He coos at the way your drool starts to gather in a cute little puddle under your cheek. “After I’m sure my baby’s learned her lesson.”

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sara-scribbles · 2 years

Text

The Prince's Tutor

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Leona Kingscholar/GN!Reader Summary: You're hired as Cheka's personal tutor. While working, you get to know the second prince, Leona. Notes: Just something I've had partially written and wanted to finish. I guess this would be in line with my royalty AU I did with Malleus. This also exhausts the list of actually royal characters from the game (does Idia count?). Might have some errors here and there that I missed, sorry in advance! Hope you enjoy all of Cheka's cuteness! Word Count: 9,064 Warnings: Attempted kidnapping, violence, some swearing, Cheka being adorable

As much as Leona wants to ignore his nephew, he can’t turn a blind eye to the fact that a stranger is leading Cheka out of the palace. The naive brat follows without thought as he excitedly chatters. A person he’s never seen before, leads the kid by the hand while nodding enthusiastically.

“Hey!” His voice echoes in the hallways.

Cheka looks around before a smile stretches across his face. “Unca Leona!” The cub lets go of the stranger’s hand to launch himself at Leona.

Grunting as the pint sized twerp barrels into him, he pulls him off immediately by holding him by the back of his shirt and unceremoniously dropping him on the ground. “Where do you think you're goin’, brat?”

“Teacher (Y/N) is taking me to the detached wing for lessons!” The boy isn’t bothered by the rough treatment as he springs back onto his feet.

You offer Leona a tentative smile, which he does not return. “Teacher? You’re the new brat’s tutor?” He sizes you up and isn’t impressed. You're a herbivore for one thing.

Nodding, you bow politely. “Yes. I was recommended by Cheka’s old tutor.”

Though you have no reason to lie, Leona isn’t completely convinced. You look green with the enthusiastic glimmer in your eyes. However, he decides to let it be. It isn’t in his nature to pursue further than needed. As long as it doesn’t seem that you’ll be kidnapping the furball, Leona’s fine.

Waving you off, he turns around to head to his room. “Ya whatever you say.”

---

“Who was that?” you ask Cheka.

“That’s unca Leona! He’s the bestest unca!” the boy explains. His eyes sparkle with joy, and you can’t help but smile back.

You had heard of the royal family, though you hadn’t had much time to study the lineage before arriving. Seeing the beastman glare at you was a first. Cheka’s father was very welcoming and open when you met him briefly. You chalk it up as everyone having their own personalities and quickly forget the encounter. No use worrying about things that are none of your business.

Arriving at the detached wing of the palace, you enter the large library. Once you have Cheka settled, you start on the first lesson. “We’ll be learning about the history of magic. Let’s start with how magic first came to be…”

---

Later in the day, Leona happens upon you again. This time, you’re talking with his brother, or at least trying to. Farena’s too distracted with Cheka to really pay you any mind, and the expression on your face shows your growing irritation.

Leona tries to slink away without being noticed, but the fuzzball immediately catches him. It’s like his nephew can sense him from miles away. “Unca Leona!”

Hopping down from his father’s hold, Cheka runs up to him and wraps his short arms around his leg. “Let go,” Leona grunts through gritted teeth.

Cheka beams up at him as he clings on. “Today I learned about the history of magic! Did you know that magic existed a long, long time ago?!”

Rubbing his temples, he sighs, “Yes. Now, get off, brat.”

“Leona!” Farena comes over and claps him heartily on the back. “Have you met, (Y/N)?”

You give him another polite smile though he sees the way the corner of your mouth twitches downward. You’re gripping a stack of papers tight enough to wrinkle them.

He scoffs and shrugs off his brother’s hold. “Yes. Tell your son to let go of my leg.”

Farena chuckles. “He just misses his uncle!”

Coughing, you interject. “Your highness I-”

“Please call me Farena. I insist!” he interrupts, giving you a blinding smile.

Lips pressing into a thin line, you look put out. “Your highness, I do need to go over the rest of the curriculum with you. I’d like to know if you think these will be suitable for your son.”

Waving you off, his brother takes the stack of papers you hold out. “Alright, alright. I’ll look at these later tonight and let you know tomorrow.”

Sighing, you bow. “Thank you, your highness. If you’ll excuse me, I still have to finish settling in.” You give them both one last bow before making a hasty retreat.

Scratching his ear, Leona watches as you disappear. “Where’d you find this one?” he asks, a bit interested as you don’t seem dazzled by his brother like everyone else. He wonders how long that will last.

“(Y/N) comes from the Queendom of Roses. And came with high praise from many teachers and scholars.” Farena glances down at the documents. “It seems they are very meticulous.”

During the conversation, Cheka had released Leona’s leg. Climbing onto his father’s back, the boy hangs there while peeping at the documents. “What does that say, papa?”

Farena chortles, “It says a lot of work for papa tonight. I’ll see you later, brother!” Leona is finally left in peace. There’s not much to do, though. It’s not like anyone expects anything of him.

He decides to find a place to nap. Like always.

---

A few days pass since that encounter, when Leona bumps into you again. Quite literally this time.

Papers fly in the air like snow. “Aaach!” You fall back on your butt with a thump before giving him a withering look.

Leona stands there above you as the papers fall to the ground. He didn’t even move back an inch when you bumped into him. “Ya goin’ somewhere, herbivore?” he asks, amusement coloring his tone. Guess non-beastmen are all weak if a little bump sends you tumbling to the ground.

“...” You don’t bother to respond as you gather your scattered documents.

Picking up one that landed on his foot, Leona quickly scans it. “Is this the brat’s curriculum?”

“Yes. I made some edits since your brother thought the last one was too much for Cheka,” you reply. He catches the frown that quickly fades into a neutral expression.

From the looks of the one sheet, you plan to teach Cheka basic magic and runes. Something most kids his age would not be learning until a few years later. “He might be right.” Knowing Cheka, the little furball will quickly lose interest.

Huffing, you snatch the paper out of his hand. “I believe he can do it. He showed great interest in the history of magic and learning fundamentals during our first session. He just needs to be engaged.”

“And how do ya plan to engage a six year old?” The boy has too much energy for Leona’s taste. Even Cheka’s old tutor had a hard time keeping him on track. He liked to ask too many questions that would quickly spiral out of control.

For the first time that day, you grin. “I have my ways, your highness.”

His ears twitch. “Hmm… Have fun with the twerp.” He walks past you without another glance.

---

“Now I want you to visualize the broccoli,” you tell Cheka. The young boy stares at the plate with the single broccoli you placed in front of him. “They look like small trees, don’t they?”

Cheka nods. “Yeah! They’re like small green trees!”

“Right! So imagine reaching forward and plucking this small tree from the plate.” You watch as the boy’s brows furrow deeply. His golden gaze is focused on the broccoli. Finally, he slumps forward.

“Nothing happened…” he pouts.

Ruffling his hair, you gently encourage him, “Don’t worry, Cheka. These things take time. You’ll get it soon!”

Though he smiles back at you, you notice it isn’t as bright. “Alright. Let’s do something else.” Clapping your hands together, you rummage through the trunk of things you had brought from home. “We’re going to do a reenactment of a myth”

“Reenactment?” Cheka pops the broccoli in his mouth without you noticing.

You hand over a few props. “It means we’ll be putting on a play pretending to be the characters of the story.”

“Papa and I play pretend all the time!” Excitement shines in his eyes as he takes the offered clothes.

Beaming, you put on a hat. “Then you’ll be a pro at this!”

Unbeknownst to you, a certain lion is sitting further in the back of the library on a windowsill. He chuckles as he listens to you start the story.

---

“So you like chess?” Your voice interrupts his thought process. A little annoyed to be disturbed, he gives you a glare but it doesn’t phase you.

“And so what if I do?” He should have played in his room in peace. But it’s being cleaned at the moment, so he had to find a different place away from others. Hence being in the library you use for Cheka’s lessons.

Shrugging, you tap the queen. “I learned a bit but never could actually grasp the game. It takes a lot of skill and foresight to be good. I don’t know much but looking at the board, I’m assuming you're a pro. That’s amazing.”

A compliment is not something he expected to hear from you. Nor is it something he’s heard in a long time. “The thing about chess is that you can play it alone. You don’t need anyone else,” he mutters.

Moving away, you bow. “Sorry to disturb you, your highness.”

You turn to leave, but he stops you. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t like a match…”

Your eyes widen a fraction as he notes a small smile form on your face. “I don’t think I’ll be much of a challenge.”

He shrugs and gestures to the chair opposite. You sit down as he places the pieces back to their starting positions. “Take it as a chance to learn from a master.”

“A very humble master,” you tease before focusing on the board.

And true to your word, you aren’t much of a challenge. He manages to beat you in five moves. Despite losing so quickly you ask for another game. Occasionally you ask about certain pieces as your memory of the game is hazy. Despite beating you multiple times, Leona finds it entertaining. You don’t get discouraged even after losing every time. And you don’t lose as quickly each time.

Leaning back, you let out a sigh, “I think I’m all chessed out.”

He tips the queen on the board back and forth. “You’re not bad. You learn quickly. With some practice, you could get better.”

“Maybe even good enough to beat you?” you ask.

Smirking, he flicks the queen on its side. It rolls across the board to you. “Not even in your dreams, herbivore.”

You let out a laugh that lights up your face. For once you don’t have the stern teacher facade he’s seen you wear most times. Only with Cheka do you look like you’re enjoying yourself. He still remembers the sound of your voice as it fell and rose while you pretended to be different characters. You're much more animated when you’re relaxed and let your guard down.

---

Leona wishes he could be anywhere but here. Farena’s wife had foisted Cheka onto him just as he was going out. She knew he couldn’t say no, and so today he’s on babysitting duties. Where’s the brat’s nanny?

“Unca Leona! Look!” Cheka points to a small pastry stall. Rows upon rows of sweets and confections are on display. From the looks of it, the seller is not from around the area. The young cub eagerly runs over while Leona follows at a leisurely stroll.

Cheka presses his face against the glass case. “Can I have one, huh??”

“Yeah, whatever.” It’s not his fault if the kid eats sweets before dinner.

As the young boy eagerly points to a chocolate covered treat, the stall owner rings him up. “That will be 500 thaumarks.”

Leona stares at him blankly as Cheka is already eating the treat. “I don’t have money. Just bill it to the royal account.”

The stall owner nervously looks between him and his nephew. “I-I’m sorry, sir?” The confusion is written all over his face. Leona feels his irritation grow.

“I don’t carry money on me. Just go to the palace and ask to be paid. They’ll know what to do.” He starts to turn away, but the stall owner is still persistent.

“P-please wait a s-second!” This is why he doesn’t deal with non-locals, they don’t know the rules.

“Unca Leona, are we going to jail?” Cheka asks, golden eyes wide.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Leona almost snaps at the stall owner when a familiar voice calls to them. “Leona? Cheka?”

You’re carrying an armful of groceries as you near them. Dressed in more casual clothes, he almost doesn’t recognize you. Cheka grins as he bounds over. He wraps his arms around your waist, nearly making you lose your balance.

“(Y/N)! What are you doing here?” You set down the bags to give him a proper hug.

“I was doing some grocery shopping. What about you?” Your brows draw together as you chuckle. “You have chocolate all over your mouth, Cheka.”

The boy furiously rubs his mouth with the back of his hand. “Unca Leona and I are spending the day together! But since he doesn’t carry money, we’re going to jail.” He nods solemnly.

You tilt your head to the side as you give Leona a questioning look. “We ain’t goin’ to jail, brat!”

“I would hope not. You’re too cute for jail, Cheka,” you joke. Pulling out your wallet, you glance at the stall owner. “I can pay.”

“Yaya!” Cheka cheers as he jumps in the air.

You hand over the money. Picking your groceries back up, you ruffle his hair. “My treat. I’m done for the day, so I’ll be heading back.”

Before Leona can say anything, Cheka follows after you as he calls over his shoulder, “Let’s go, Unca Leona!”

Muttering under his breath about being bossed around, Leona reluctantly follows. As Cheka runs ahead, you glance at the lion with an amused smile. “So, the great prince Leona was about to go to jail?”

Snorting, he crosses his arms over his chest. “As if. I’ve never had issues with paying. Everyone knows to bill it to the royal account. Apparently you out of towners know nothing.”

“Royal account? It must be nice to not worry about having to carry money.” Shaking your head, you can’t imagine the life he lives. “Maybe just carry a bit around just in case something like this happens again. I won’t always be there to bail you out.”

“As if I need you to.” He rolls his eyes before grabbing one of your bags.

“Hey!”

“You’re only holding us up by carryin’ all those,” he scoffs.

He can feel your stare but resolutely looks forward. “Thank you,” you mumble as you catch up to his long strides.

---

Most people in the palace know not to linger or rest in certain places. Those spots are reserved for a certain lazy lion. So, when Leona arrives at one of his napping spots under the acacia, he’s not pleased to see a figure resting there.

He’s about to kick the intruder out when he realizes it’s you. A book rests face down on your chest. You snooze with your mouth slightly ajar. It’s a funny sight.

His annoyance fades slightly. Too tired to go to another spot, Leona plops down next to you. There’s plenty of space for him. He’ll let the transgression go this time.

Sometime later when he wakes up, you’ve somehow moved so that your head rests against his shoulder. You’re drooling on his shirt sleeve. Clicking his tongue, he pushes you none too gently causing you to fall over and wake up.

“Huh?!” Sitting up, you rub the sleep from your eyes. “L-Leona?”

He sneers at his wet sleeve. “Ya drool like waterfall, herbivore.”

Picking up your book, you apologize, “Sorry… I can pay for it to be cleaned?” you offer, trying to wipe the leftover drool away.

“Tch. Maybe next time you sleep with your mouth closed.” Standing, he stretches and yawns. “Later, herbivore.”

Watching as he leaves, you wonder when he arrived.

---

“Cheka has improved exponentially. I think he’ll be ready for more challenging material in a year or so,” you inform Farena. Giving him Cheka’s mid-year report, you hand him a thick packet with your notes and observations.

Farena browses through the notes. “I’m glad to hear Cheka’s doing so well! He’s such a bright boy, but sometimes has a difficult time staying focused. I can tell you’re doing great work, (Y/N)!”

You bow your head. “Thank you, your highness.”

The door to Farena’s office opens and Cheka pokes his head in. “Papa!”

“Cheka!” The man beams as the young boy runs over to him. He hops into his lap as Farena hugs him. “What brings you here?”

“Unca Leona said I should stop bothering him and come find you,” the boy explains.

Ferna chuckles as he turns to you. “Are we done here?”

You do have a few more things you want to go over, but decide you can save it for another time. “I’m all set. You can keep the report. There's a plan for the next six months you can review and let me know what you think, your highness.”

Giving the prince one last bow, you leave his office. Shutting the door, you head back to your guest residence. Much like the rest of the palace, the guest quarters are just as lavish. There’s a fully functional kitchen, which you have stocked with food. You could have the royal chefs cook for you, but prefer making your own meals.

As you put together dinner, your thoughts wander to a certain second prince. Leona is an interesting character to say the least. He’s the opposite of his warm and friendly brother. Oftentimes you spot him napping in various places. It doesn’t seem like he has any duties and spends his days doing whatever he pleases.

You’ve heard the whispers of the staff.

He’s the second born, so there are no expectations for him.

He’s rude, prideful, and arrogant.

He’ll use underhand tricks to get what he wants.

His unique magic is terrifying.

He's good for nothing.

Even gossip has a grain of truth. Yet, you try not to cast judgment on him beyond what you’ve learned from your interactions. Leona is rude, prideful, and arrogant. But he’s also cunning and a brilliant strategist. Though he shows a strong distaste for his nephew, he does watch out for him in his own way. He seems to have a softer side, though he’d probably kill you if you ever said it to his face.

You don’t realize you’re smiling as you think about him.

---

“Unca Leona, can you show me your unique magic?” Cheka asks, his eyes sparkle with curiosity.

Somehow the brat had found him while he was snoozing. He had made sure to hide away from prying eyes as much as possible. Yet, no hiding place is safe from Cheka.

Not even bothering to open his eyes, he tries to shoo him away. “No. Leave me alone.”

Cheka persists. “Please! (Y/N) said everyone has a unique magic and I wanna see yours. Pleeeeeeaaaassssseeeeee!”

Leona sighs, exasperated. “Listen, brat, my unique magic isn’t for fun and games. People can get hurt, and I would rather not get yelled at by your mom.”

The young boy droops. “Okay…”

Rubbing his face, Leona stands up. There’s no napping now. “Where’s your tutor?”

He perks up. “(Y/N) is at the guest house. They said I can always visit whenever I want. Do you wanna visit them too, Unca Leona?”

Leona is already heading in the direction of the guest house. “Yeah, somethin’ like that,” he mutters. Cheka scampers after him eagerly.

Arriving at the guest house, the door is open so he lets himself in. “Oi! Herbivore, you home?”

There’s the sound of crashing and the two follow the noise. In the kitchen, you're picking up a fallen pot. “Leona?” You eye him quizzically as Cheka immediately runs over to you.

“We wanted to visit!” the boy exclaims. He stands on his tiptoes as he eyes the freshly made chocolate chip cookies set on the table.

You hand him one. “What do I owe for this surprise visit?”

“The kid wants to see some unique magic, so I thought since you’re his tutor, you’d be able to show him,” he explains, shaking his head.

You absently hand Cheka another cookie as he makes grabby hands at you. “I guess I could show him. My unique magic is basically useless for combat so it should be safe.”

Turning to the boy, you bite your lip. He has chocolate all over his face. “Come on, Cheka. I’ll show you my unique magic.”

“Yay!” He grabs your hand as you lead him outside. Leona follows quietly behind.

Standing outside, you close your eyes. “Let the green touch the lands wherever I go. Grow! Flourish! Nature’s blessing.”

Suddenly all around you, grass springs up. Wild flowers grow and bloom. Leona watches as a sprout grows taller and taller. It flourishes into a sturdy tree with dark green leaves that shade you from the sun.

“Woah! That’s amazing!” Cheka runs over to the tree to touch the trunk. “It’s real?!”

Bending over with hands on your knees, you catch your breath. “Yup, everything made with my unique magic are real plants. It’s about a ten foot radius all around.” You smile weakly.

Leona reaches up to pluck off a leaf. “To be able to create life from nothin’ is a feat.” He turns to you, green eyes gleaming. “And here I thought you weren’t that impressive, herbivore.”

“Well it’s not like any of this is useful. I can’t grow fruit or anything edible. The plants only last as long as they naturally can in whatever environment it’s currently in.” You plop down in the grass with a sigh. “It uses too much magic, so I’m usually tired afterwards. I guess it could be a neat party trick…”

Cheka is too busy climbing the tree to notice your exhaustion. Leona lays down in the grass. “At least it’s the type of unique magic people aren’t afraid of. This makes an ideal napping spot.”

Peering at him, you notice the way he seems off in thought staring up at the canopy of leaves. “Just because your unique magic might be dangerous, doesn’t mean you are,” you point out.

He snorts. “Most people don’t think that way. They’re all too blinded by their fear.” Closing his eyes, he can hear Cheka chattering to himself while climbing back down.

The young boy comes over and flops down next to Leona. “This is so cool!” He points at a spot on one of the branches. “Look! Even the birds are coming to rest.”

Chuckling, you lay down as well. You're still tired from using your unique magic. “Sometimes it’s nice to just lay in the shade of a tree.”

Leona agrees with a non-committal hum. Cheka worms his way between you two. The three of you rest in the shade of the tree.

Suddenly Cheka asks, “Do you have someone back home (Y/N)?”

“Um, no. Why do you ask?” You’re a bit afraid to hear his answer.

Cheka sits up as he looks at you then Leona. “Then you can marry unca Leona! That way, you can stay here forever, and unca Leona won’t be so grumpy!”

“Hey, brat, sometimes it’s better to keep ya mouth shut!” Leona snaps, sitting up as well. His teeth are clenched and he refuses to look in your direction.

The boy doesn’t seem too bothered by his uncle’s words. “But papa said if people like each other, they should get married. You like (Y/N), don’t you?”

“That’s…that’s none of your business!” he growls. Scowling fiercely, he lays back down and turns on his side away from Cheka. “Don’t bother me,” he grunts.

“Did I say something wrong?” Cheka asks in a loud whisper.

Biting your lip, you try not to laugh. “Just let him rest.”

Flopping back down, Cheka sighs, “I still think you and unca Leona should get married,” he says honestly.

You remain silent as you mull over his words.

---

A week before Cheka’s birthday, the palace is abuzz. Many people run around with decorations throughout the week. Farena is busy organizing the party and has invitations sent out to just about everyone. You received a handmade invitation from Cheka to attend his party during one of your lessons.

As his birthday draws closer, the young boy can’t seem to sit still for his lessons. You decide to switch tactics. Instead of lessons in the library, the two of you spend time around the palace gardens. Practical magic application requires more open space, and it gives you an excuse to let Cheka run around a bit.

“Did you see that?!” Cheka jumps around wildly as his attempt to move some pebbles with wind magic finally succeeds. They only roll a bit but it’s enough to excite him.

You clap enthusiastically. “Wonderful job, Cheka!” He tilts his head closer so you can pat him. He smiles triumphantly as you ruffle his hair. “I can tell you’ve been practicing your concentration. You’re progressing nicely,” you praise.

Picking up the pebbles, you place them back in a pouch. You gesture to Cheka to sit down on a nearby bench. Rummaging through the bag you always carry, you pull out a wrapped box. Handing it to him, you watch as his eyes light up.

“Is this my birthday gift?!” He’s ready to tear into it.

Nodding, you chuckle at his barely restrained excitement. “Yes. I thought you could open my gift early.” In reality, you don’t want Cheka to make a big fuss over your gift at his party. He most likely would receive far better gifts from the many guests.

He eagerly rips the wrapping paper away. Pulling off the box top, he pulls out a small snow globe. Rather than depicting snow, it’s filled with grass and miniature flowers. There’s even a miniature tree like the one that grew when you used your unique magic. The flowers and tree grow before disappearing in a puff of green sparkle and then regrow again.

“Woah!” He holds it close to his face.

“I infused a bit of my unique magic in some runes. I thought a small plant world would make a fun snow globe,” you explain. It took you many trials and long nights to complete the gift. Infusing runes with your magic took precise control and a lot of patience. It sounded easy in theory, but you had learned how difficult it actually was.

“This is so cool!” He carefully set the globe back in the box before wrapping his short arms around you. “Thank you!”

Squeezing him tight, you smile brightly. Pulling away, you pat his head. “Alright, lessons are over for today. I’ll let you enjoy some time off before your birthday.”

Jumping up, he holds the box with your gift closer to his chest. “I wanna show papa my gift!” He’s off like a bolt of light.

Shaking your head, you pick up the rest of your things before heading to the guest house. You hadn’t planned to give Cheka something, but you also couldn’t resist the urge to make him smile. His joy is infectious. As much as you promised not to get too personal with Cheka, he had wormed his way into your heart.

---

You try your best to avoid bumping into people as you weave your way through the party. There are so many guests, and they’re all in merry moods. Cheka’s birthday celebration is nothing like you’ve ever been to. There’s so much food and drink, it seems to overflow. Music and dancers entertain the guests.

Beatmen, fae, humans and other magical creatures mingle and laugh. It was fun at first, but now you’re feeling tired. The excitement has become a bit too much for you. Sneaking out of the party, you manage to wander into the garden. The music and cheering is muffled, and the air feels nice on your heated skin.

Sitting down on one of the benches, you let out a relieved breath. “Too much excitement for ya, herbivore?”

Leona’s voice makes you jump up. You spy a set of bright emerald eyes staring at you. Sprawled out on the grass and mostly hidden by the bushes, he’s very hard to spot. Your heart still beats rapidly as you sink back down.

“Don’t do that…” You sigh. “I just needed a break from all that. It’s a lot to take in. Are parties usually this extravagant?”

He tilts his head before slinking over to you. “Usually. Farena likes to go all out when it comes to birthday parties.” He pushes you to the edge of the bench, so he can sit down. “It’s annoying but harmless.”

“So, what did you get Cheka?” you ask, curious since you didn’t see him give a gift during the present opening.

“A mechanical meerkat,” he answers. He shrugs when you give him a confused look. “Some toy inventor was trying to sell it a few weeks ago. No one was buyin’ it, but I thought the brat would like it. According to the inventor, it can lead you home if you tell it to.”

Peering at him, he doesn’t meet your probing gaze. “That actually sounds useful. You’re a good uncle, Leona.”

He grumbles something under his breath that you can’t hear. However, the way his ears twitch, you wonder if he’s just a little happy at the compliment. “Stop lookin’ so smug, herbivore,” he growls.

Grinning, you stand up. “Despite all your complaining, you care about him.” He scoffs but doesn’t deny your claim. “Come on, we should head back.” Offering him your hand, you meet his intense gaze with a fond look of your own.

Leona takes your hand, and you lead him out of the garden. Down the darkened halls of the castle, you two slowly walk back to the party while talking in low voices. You’re not in any hurry to return to the celebration.

---

There’s a night bazaar happening and Cheka is determined to go. You can only stand in Farena’s office and watch as the young boy begs his father to take him. Your paperwork was forgotten the moment Cheka had run into the office during your meeting.

“Please, papa! I really wanna go tonight! You promised last year that you’d take me!” he begs, his eyes wide and filled with pleading. The mechanical meerkat that Leona had gifted him skitters from the boy’s pocket to his head.

Farena sighs, shoulders slumping forward. “I’m sorry, Cheka. I really can’t. Papa has some very important meetings he needs to attend. I can’t push them off.” The unspoken ‘again’ hangs in the air.

Cheka’s large golden eyes fill with tears. “Bu-but…” His lower lip wobbles dangerously.

With a panicked look in his eyes, Farena meets your gaze. He stares at you for a moment longer before a smile stretches across his face. “I’m sure (Y/N) can take you though!”

“W-what?” Baffled, you can only open and close your mouth.

Cheka sniffles as he wipes his face before looking at you with hopeful eyes. “Really?”

You resist the urge to say what you’re really feeling by biting the inside of your cheek. “Of course! You’re not busy, are you?” Farena asks, his eyes pleading much like how his son was just moments before.

“I-I mean I had plans…” In reality, you were just going to finish grading Cheka’s last test and finish reviewing your future lessons. Very exciting things!

Having the king of all people look at you with what can only be called puppy eyes is a very startling turn of events. “Leona can go with you too,” he adds with a grin

“Unca Leona!” Cheka cheers, all sadness gone without a trace.

Farena gives Cheka a big squeeze before letting the boy rush off to find his uncle. “I’ll see you at the front door!” he calls before the door closes with a click.

You meet his gaze, his eyes the same warm golden shade as his son’s. “I take it I don’t have much choice on this matter?”

The man shakes his head. “Of course you have a choice. I can’t force you to go.” He drums his fingers on his desk as he regards you with sharp eyes. “But Cheka’s so fond of you, I thought some more time together would be nice. If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. Cheka’s a big boy, he’ll understand.”

Eyes narrowing, the easy smile on his face doesn’t seem so friendly. “As you wish, your highness.” You give a stiff bow before leaving his office.

You can hear Cheka’s voice drifting through the halls as you walk away. Shaking your head at your encounter with the king, you meet him at the front. Cheka is bouncing around excitedly while Leona scowls, his dark hair a mess. The meerkat hangs on his shoulders; it’s become his constant companion.

“I need to drop some things off at the guest house,” you tell them. Leona’s scowl seems to soften a bit when you come closer.

“Okay! Then the bazaar!” The boy grabs your hand. You can only give Leona a helpless smile as you're dragged along.

After putting away your things and grabbing some money, the three of you walk to the bazaar. It’s filled with people wandering about as they enjoy the food, entertainment, and festive atmosphere. Cheka tugs you to each and every stall.

He chatters non stop at everything he sees, pointing with wide eyes at the decorations. You listen to his enthusiastic ramblings while Leona follows a few paces behind. Eventually you stop at a stall to buy a few treats. Cheka is chowing down on a chocolate pastry from the same seller as last time.

“So, it looked like Cheka had just woken you up from a nap,” you comment.

Leona rubs his eyes. “The brat seems to have a knack for finding me regardless of how well I hide.” He shakes his head as Cheka starts eating another sweet. “How’d my brother rope you into this?”

Looking around, you notice a puppet show being set up. A group of children are already gathered in front of the makeshift stage. “Let’s just say your brother is very…persuasive when he wants to be.”

Snorting, you glance at Leona, who rolls his eyes dramatically. “He knows how to get his way.”

Nudging his arm with your elbow, you give him a teasing grin. “I’d say the same for you. The two of you go about it in different ways, but the end result is the same.”

There’s a sharpness to his smile. “I can show how persuasive I can be, herbivore. And I promise I’m better than my brother.” His emerald greens seem to darken as he holds your gaze.

Feeling heat prickle up your neck, you turn away. “Cheka! Do you want to watch the puppet show?” As you usher the young boy over to the show, you can hear Leona’s low chuckle, sending shivers down your back.

The puppet show starts after a few minutes. The story is rather morbid for a children’s play. The story revolves around a young man and his uncle turned stepfather, who may have poisoned his brother to become king. You become so engrossed in the play that you don’t notice Cheka slipping away.

There’s a particular moment in the play that causes you to turn to Cheka. “Did you see tha-” Your eyes land on an empty seat before frantically scanning around. Standing up, you urgently run over to Leona, who had opted to rest a bit away on a bench.

“Did you see Cheka?!” The fear in your voice is palpable.

He quickly sits up, eyes focused. “No. He couldn’t have gotten far.” Taking your hand, the two of you rush through the bazaar calling his name.

“Cheka? Cheka?! Cheka!” You split off from Leona hoping to cover more ground. As you rush by stalls and the throngs of people, you can only think of finding him.

Something shiny catches your eye near the edge of the bazaar. Rushing over, you realize it’s the mechanical meerkat that Cheka always carries. Though a bit dusty, the toy is perfectly fine. It immediately curls up in your hand as you pocket the toy. Moving away from the bright lights of the festival, you make your way through the dim streets and alleys in the general direction of where you found the meerkat.

You hear a loud sound coming from one of the alleys and carefully make your way over. Peering into the narrow passage, you can make out two figures struggling with a small figure. As the clouds suddenly part and moonlight fills the dark alley, your eyes widen. The two figures are struggling with a terrified Cheka.

“Let him go!” You rush at them as magic builds at your fingertips. However, Cheka cries out as a sharp pain radiates from the back of your head. Your vision blurs as you feel your body pitch forward. Everything goes black.

---

Waking up with a throbbing headache, you find yourself laying on your side. The grimy, cold floor rubs against your cheek as you struggle to sit up. Your hands are bound behind your back with rope as well as your legs. The world spins as you manage to sit up and take in your surroundings.

There’s not much except some planks of wood leaning against a wall, empty buckets stacked in a corner and a boarded up window. The air is stale and the only light comes from a door slightly ajar. You can hear muffled voices arguing.

“(Y/N)?” a tiny voice calls to you. Blinking as your eyes adjust, you realize Cheka is tied up as well. He sits with his back against a wall. His shirt hangs limply off of him and his face is smudged with dirt.

“Cheka, are you okay?” you ask in a low voice.

He nods, tears threaten to spill. “When those men hit you, I thought…I thought you wer-” his voice breaks into a muffled sob.

“It’s okay, Cheka. Shhh, shhh.” You keep your voice down as you try to sooth him. “I’m okay. You’re okay. And we’re getting out of here.”

Sniffling, he tries his best to calm down. “H-how?”

“Give me a second to think.” There’s not much you can use in the room. If you try breaking down the boards on the window, it might draw too much attention. The only other way out is straight through where the voices are coming from.

Testing the bindings on your wrist, they don’t budge. Drawing on your magic, you summon a small fire. As they burn through the rope, you try your best to ignore the pain as the flame licks your skin. Once the rope is burned enough for you to easily break them, you do the same for the binds on your legs.

“Cheka, how many men are there?” you ask, tossing aside the burnt rope.

“Th-three I think. They’ve been fighting for a while. I-I think I’ve seen one of them before.” Once free to move, you crawl over to Cheka and start working on his ropes.

“This will hurt, but you can’t make a sound. Okay?” Peering at his tired eyes, he nods slowly. You try your best to burn the rope without hurting him, but you notice the way he slightly jerks away before biting down on his lip.

“Almost there. You’re doing an amazing job,” you praise. Tears fall, but he remains quiet. You tug at the ropes and they easily break. Making quick work of the rest of the bindings, you sit on your haunches.

Contemplating your next move, you decide to get going. There isn’t much you can do, but you need to get out. Meeting Cheka’s gaze, you tell him, “I’m going to carry you. Hold as tight as you can and don’t let go. Whatever happens, don’t look. Okay?”

“Okay.” He scrambles to your side and loops his arms around your neck. Standing up, you nearly fall back down as the world spins and your head pounds. Using the wall to right yourself, you push through the bout of dizziness. You heft him up on your good side while leaving one hand free to cast magic.

“There’s going to be a lot of noise, but I want you to ignore it.” He answers by burying his face in your shoulder. Tightening your hold, you inhale sharply. Gathering your magic, you rush out the slightly ajar door.

It bangs open loudly, startling the three men. You recognize one as the stall seller from earlier. Before they can react, you quickly throw fireballs at their feet. You call upon the wind to whip through the small area. It stirs the dust on the ground and sends smaller objects flying.

“What the hell?!”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you make a dash for the exit. Rushing outside, you stumble a bit before breaking out in a mad dash. It’s still dark out, but the moonlight makes it easier to navigate.

They have two horses tied up nearby. Honing wind magic with sharp focus, you direct it to cut through the rope. The horses rear in fright and immediately run off. At least the kidnappers won’t be able to use them.

“Shit! Get them! Bring the brat back alive!”

You hold Cheka tightly against you as you pump your legs. Nothing else matters except getting to somewhere safe. At the outskirts of town, you can make the faint glimmer of lights in some of the houses. Urging your magic once more, a wind pushes against your back, allowing you to run just a little faster. You can hear the kidnappers shouting but don’t look back.

Cheka keeps his eyes squeezed tight like you told him, but his whole body shakes. You continue to mutter reassurances to him, though at this point you’re trying to reassure yourself too. Feeling the fatigue of using magic so much, you let the wind die down. You can only do a little more magic before it becomes an issue.

Passing by a few homes, you call out, “Please, someone help us!”

No one answers. You see houses that were once lit suddenly turn dark. Gritting your teeth, you adjust your hold on Cheka. You can hear the kidnappers getting closer. Rushing down side streets, you zigzag through the town. You knock over trash cans in different directions before bolting down a different alley.

There’s a brief respite from all the running once you can no longer hear the kidnappers. You set Cheka down to catch your own breath. Your chest burns from the exertion. The throbbing in the back of your head has gotten worse. Cheka stares up at you with worried eyes. He gnaws on his lower lip.

Glancing around, you spy a large, water drum near the door of a house. Usually used to store rain water, you notice the crack in the side of the drum. The house itself is dark and looks to be empty. There’s also a clothing line with dry clothes and a blanket hanging. There’s a sack leaning against the drum, and you can see a shirt sleeve sticking out of it.

An idea starts to form. “Cheka, I need you to be very brave right now. I know this situation is very scary, but I promise that you’ll be safe. Do you trust me?” You kneel so your eye level with him.

He nods solemnly. Any of that usual joy is gone, and it breaks your heart. “I trust you.”

“I need you to hide in that water drum. Hide in there and count slowly to one hundred.” You pull out the mechanical meerkat you had picked up. Thankfully it still works as it jumps out of your hand and climbs up Cheka to settle on his shoulder.

There’s a small smile on his face for a moment. “Then,” you continue, “once you finish counting and you don’t hear anyone around, I want you to use the meerkat to lead you home. You remember what Leona told you, right?”

“Yes… He said I just have to ask it to take me home, and it’ll lead me back to the palace.”

Nodding, you ruffle his hair. “Good. Now get in the drum and don’t come out until you’re done counting.” You pop off the lid.

Cheka climbs into the drum. He peers up at you. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. We’ll meet back at the palace, I promise.” Giving him what you hope is a reassuring smile, you place the lid on the drum.

Grabbing the sack of clothes and the blanket, you dawn a large jacket and pull the hood up. You mentally apologize to whoever you’re stealing from and promise you’ll return everything. Covering the sack with the blanket, you hold it as if it were Cheka.

Breathing deeply, you give one last glance at the drum before running off. You can hear the kidnappers nearby and purposefully run by them.

“There! Get them!”

Running down streets and turning corners, you can hear them gaining. Just as you turn another corner, you come to a fence. There’s a stack of crates that you climb on to jump over the fence. However, the landing isn’t perfect as your foot lands the wrong way. You tumble forwards into the ground. Tucking the sack under your body, you come to a rolling stop. Getting back up, you wince as pain shoots up your leg.

One of the kidnappers, the stall owner, is rushing at you. As you attempt to flee, he manages to snag the back of the hood. You find yourself being dragged back. Then a clawed hand roughly grabs the back of your head causing the pain from before to intensify. Your eyes widen as you face rapidly meet the ground before you squeeze them shut.

The burst of pain as your forehead cracks against the cold ground has you seeing stars. You cry out, but the assailant doesn’t stop. Something cracks loudly. An animalistic howl rips from your throat. You swear your face is on fire.

“Hey, man, stop!” There’s some struggle before the clawed hand disappears. You feel the cold ground pressing against your cheek but can’t see anything beyond the tears.

Someone rolls you over and the blanket is torn away. “Fuck! Where’s the brat?!”

Three shadows hover over you in the morning light. You feel a foot nudge your side. “Where’s the kid!?”

Through the pain, you find yourself smiling despite your face protesting against the gesture. You hand twitches and shakes as you try to raise it. However, a heavy pressure immediately stomps on your hand causing another scream to be ripped from your throat. You can feel the bones being ground down by the heel of someone’s foot.

“Not this time fucking mage!” growls one of them

“We’re gonna ask one last time. Where’s the boy?”

Through blurry vision, you can see their faces. Your heartbeat thumps in your ears as you see a glint of a knife in one of their hands. You were supposed to be a tutor, that’s it. Yet, you somehow find yourself bloody, bruised and beaten. There’s nothing you can do.

Whatever adrenaline that was rushing through you before, dies down. Your body sags as all the fight leaves you. Closing your eyes, you wait.

“Not gonna talk…” The foot on your hand moves away.

“Just kill them! We need to get outta here before the guards are called.”

You wonder if Cheka made it back safe.

“Let’s get this ove-arhhhhgghhh!”

Terrified screams fill the air. You can feel the crackle of magic on your skin. Gentle hands gingerly lift you up. The warmth of another body feels like a relief from the cold ground. Something tickles your face.

“You’re all a bunch of idiots. Hurting someone from the royal family is a crime punishable by death!” Leona growls. There’s a sense of relief that floods your body. You're safe.

“Take (Y/N) back to the palace and have the royal doctor take care of the injuries,” he orders. You’re passed off to someone else.

“I am the one who hungers. I am the one who thirsts.” Distinctly you can hear the kidnappers shouting and feel the ground shake.

But soon you can’t hear anything. It doesn’t matter though as you allow yourself to slip away.

---

When you wake once more, you’re not in a grungy basement. You recognize your room at the guest house. Whatever aches and pains you had before aren’t as pronounced. Sitting up, you inspect your arms and notice your hand is bandaged up. You touch your face with your good hand and wince. There’s a dull throbbing all throughout your face.

“You’re awake.” The doctor, a cat beastman, enters. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore but fine.” You lean back against the propped up pillows. “Is Cheka okay?”

She checks your pulse. “The young prince is fine. Tired and scared, but he wasn’t hurt. You on the other hand needed a lot of fixing.” She clicks her tongue. “Your nose was broken and the area around it was extensively bruised. Your hand will need time to heal naturally, though I did reset it with magic. Your head should be fine after a few days, but you will feel some pain. Take one pill in the morning and one before bed. Drink plenty of water and get rest.”

Frowning, you set the bottle of pills down on the side table. “I’m Cheka’s tutor, I need to work.”

“You will do no such thing for at least a week,” she snaps. Her mismatched eyes glare at you as she shakes her head. “I will tell the king that you need rest or else.”

Shrinking under her gaze, you nod. “...fine.”

“Good. There’s some people here to see you.” Gesturing to the door, you finally notice Cheka peeking in.

He rushes to your side, but stops himself as he takes in the sight of you. “I’m sorry!” he suddenly cries out.

You panic as tears fall down his face. “C-Cheka? It’s okay! I’m fine!” You stroke his head with your good hand. “Everything turned out alright in the end.”

“B-but you got hurt because of me!”

Shaking your head vehemently, you give him a firm look. “You didn’t hurt me, Cheka. Those kidnappers did. Don’t ever think it’s your fault. Okay?”

Sniffling, he nods. “O-okay.”

Sighing, you give him a few more pats. “I won’t be able to do lessons for a week, but I’d like it if we could still hang out.”

Golden eyes brightening, he jumps up. “I’ll visit you everyday! We can read and play games together!”

“That sounds like a plan!” Giving him a big grin despite the throbbing pain, your heart feels lighter seeing him shine again.

He gingerly wraps his arms around you in a warm hug. There’s a cough that breaks up the hug. Leona casually leans against the door frame. “Come on, brat. Time to give (Y/N) some space.”

“Okay! I’ll be back soon. I promise!” He scampers off.

Leona saunters in and takes a seat at your bedside. “You look like shit, herbivore.”

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious.” The glare you throw him has no heat and a smile forms on your face.

He eyes you for a moment before shaking his head. “You’re a lot of trouble, ya know that?” There’s fondness despite the scowl.

“Thank you for saving me.” Your gaze softens. “I really thought I was done. I can’t tell you how relieved I felt hearing your voice.”

Leaning back in the chair, he smirks. “Ya owe me one.”

Eyebrows flying up, you warily ask, “What do you want?”

“Well,” he holds up three fingers, “you have to be my napping pillow whenever I ask. Play chess with me. And you can’t leave.”

Brows coming together, you frown. “I can do one and two, but three isn’t possible. You do realize I’m hired by your brother to be Cheka’s tutor? Once I’m no longer needed, I have to find a new job.”

Scoffing, Leona leaves the chair to hover over you. He’s dangerously close and you can hear your heart thumping in your ears. “I’ll just hire you as my tutor when the time comes.”

“You?” Despite his closeness, you still find the ability to laugh.

“Mhm. I believe there are some things that only you can teach me.” His eyes gleam brightly as he inches ever closer to your face.

You can feel his lips brush against your own. Squeezing your eyes shut, you wait. Even though your face hurts, you decide you don’t mind if he kisses you. Instead, you feel his lips brush against your forehead. Cracking your eyes open, your puzzled look makes him chuckle.

His eyes are darker than before. “The doc says you can’t do anything strenuous. She’d have my head if I tried anything right now. But once you're healed, everything is fair game.”

You feel very warm under his gaze. However, you’re also itching to heal as quickly as possible. You suddenly recall Cheka’s very innocent question about marrying Leona. Looking away from him, you wonder.

“Whacha thinkin’ so hard about?” he asks, noticing the way you can’t meet his gaze.

Shaking your head, you scoot over in bed. “Nothing. Since I’m on bed rest, you can comfort me.”

A single eyebrow goes up. “Gettin’ bold.” However, he crawls under the covers before hauling you closer to him.

Resting your head against his chest, you relax. “So, are we…?” You trail off, not sure how to ask.

He snorts. “Of course we are. Keep up, herbivore.” Leona holds you gently, being sure not to touch any of your injuries. “Just rest,” he orders.

Closing your eyes, you decide not to worry about the logistics. Right now, you’re not Cheka’s tutor and Leona isn’t a prince. You’re just two people. And it’s perfect.

#twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #leona kingscholar #twst leona #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #reader insert #twst royalty au #scenario

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the-traveling-poet · 10 months

Note

Good morning/night ..

Hope you doing okay friend..

I have a request i hope you write it..

I did see anyone do this idea so i will write it here in case you want to write it 🥹🫳🏻💗

Worried Levi x F!reader (Titan user)

Idk about the rest i just want to be a titan user 🫡

Have a nice day~!

Putting aside the whole “9 titan shifters” theme, tiny little levi getting worried over 15meter tall titan shifter!Reader just warms my heart-

taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe

A/N: Ofc lovely! I hope you don’t mind I did this in a Drabble format with a kind of fluffy-humor style, but if you do mind I’ll happily rewrite! Pls this idea is so so cute I had a blast sneaking off from work to write this 🤎

It had all been going so well, for a time. Why did she have to go and fuck it all up?

It all started with one of Hange’s ‘brilliant’ ideas to test Eren and Y/N’s shifting abilities. Something Levi had regretted agreeing to the moment the words left the crazed woman’s lips.

After a couple attempts, both were fully shifted and conscious enough to take orders. But everything quickly changed when Eren lost his concentration.

Sighing, Levi ran a hand down his face and glared down at his boots. The one time he had been convinced to try something new with the brats, it had gone to shit. The very brief moment of calm they’d all started off with was long gone now as both titans charged at one another once again.

Dodging yet another heavy footfall, Levi cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted up towards the two brawling brats.

“Oi, brats! Knock it off. Compose your selves and concentrate!”

Though, he was hardly heard over Eren’s sudden scream as he was flipped over Y/N’s shoulder, a roar of rage piercing the air as she moved.

Groaning in exasperation, Levi ignored Hange’s cries of joy and activated his gear to attach to Y/N’s shoulder. Once Levi got his footing, he grabbed onto a long strand of the titan girl’s hair. He wasn’t as worried about Y/N freaking out and losing control on him so much as he was worried about her overexerting herself in this training exercise. He’d known the girl for years, much longer than he had Jeager. Using this excuse whenever necessary allowed him to always keep a closer eye on her.

Y/N’s large eyes peered over at him curiously, no longer raging about the forrest clearing. Instead she held still now, watching Levi as intently as he watched her.

“Oi, Y/N. Can you hear me through that thick skull of yours?” He shouted.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed down at him, a large puff of air exhaling through her nose and blowing his hair back forcefully.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Levi muttered under his breath as he wiped his face with his sleeve subconsciously. “Well since you’re listening now, knock it off brat. This is training, not a titan play date. You’re an adult, anyways. Act like it.”

Y/N’s titan stiffened, glaring down at the even smaller man on her shoulder defiantly. And for a fleeting moment, Levi genuinely feared for his very life.

“Leviiii!” Hange called up, hands fisted on her hips. “Be nice to your girlfriend!”

“Wh-She’s not-“ Levi’s shout was interrupted as Y/N brought up her hand and plucked Levi off her shoulder, letting him drop onto his ass in the palm of her hand. Looking up, he saw she was glaring down at him.

“What.” He deadpanned, trying to stand back up in her palm. Y/N grunted and lifted her other hand to pinch at the odmg gas tanks resting at the raven’s sides, efficiently crushing them but leaving Levi unharmed.

“Oi! What the hell brat?” He yelled up at her face, only a foot away from her nose.

Y/N grinned, a sight he never wished to see again stretch across her face while in titan form.

Sauntering forward with booming steps, Y/N carried her Captain towards a tall pine. The tallest in the clearing, in fact. Sensing what she was about to do, Levi merely scoffed.

“Don’t be childish, Y/N. Put me down!” He demanded, folding his arms over his chest. Y/N made a sound akin to laughter as she set Levi down on the highest branch, then stood back to admire her work. Amidst the laughter coming from down below and Y/N’s rumbling laughter, Levi’s face grew hot as he pouted, stuck high up in the tree.

Dear god, why did he always worry over this stubbornly childish brat?

158 notes · View notes

bitchsister · 5 months

Note

i've been picturing this for quite some time - bucky and gale casually having a convo over work/random stuff, bucky ignoring curt who's desperately humping his thigh and whining like a cat in heat? they've been arguing over stuff (mostly it's curt's being a brat as always) and ignoring each other (with gale stuck in the middle of it) for almost a week? but of course curt couldn't bear any longer without bucky's touch, feeling so empty not having bucky's cock in him so he jumped on bucky every chance he got pitifully lol. maybe bucky winning the idgaf war for the first few tries 😈 and eventually curt won and bucky give it to him HARD

I literally took this and rrraaaaaaannnnn with it.

I’m sorry (not).

Once again, I went insane.

If you’re not locked in for this shit, do not read: Desperation, Bucky has some unsavory coping mechanisms when it comes to his anger, lowkey watersports that lasts two seconds (oop), Eiffel Tower ish, more butt plug action

I HAVE to start making these a little shorter lmaoooo

I hardly proof read this. Pls love me.

💘

It was torture.

Curt had royally fucked up, and he knew it but had been doing everything under the sun besides apologizing to get Bucky back in his good graces while Gale sat quietly in the middle and watched it all unfold.

A bad driver, yes, but worse after a joint and a bong rip.

Bucky let him borrow the Range Rover to run errands across town while he and Gale stayed back to work on their docket and finalize their defense — it was crunch time for them and things had become beyond stressful, John’s usual laid back demeanor becoming far more ridged and on edge.

“At least it ain’t totaled!” Curt threw his arms up once Bucky had scooped him from the auto shop in his Jeep, his nostrils flared as he drove and bit his tongue. He had too much to think about, too much on his mind. Curt and his antics had to take a backseat until he and Gale could tie up their loose ends.

Curtis couldn’t give in though, feeling like a puppy with its tail between its legs. There was no scolding, but the silence was almost worse. “C’mon..” he scurried after Bucky who neglected to open Curt’s door for him, or kiss him like he usually did when they pulled into the driveway.

“It’s hardly a dent!”

The entire fender had fallen off.

With no choice but to let it rest, Curt moped around. He listened to music in his usual spot, he draped himself over a flamingo float in the pool, naked as the day he was born with a pink sunburn on his ass. He sunbathed bare, he sat by the window in only his underwear, he sucked on popsicles that stained his lips red.

He’d caught Gale’s glance a couple times, but not Bucky’s.

Don’t you dare look at him, Gale.

He’s just — he’s so —

He’s a fuckin’ brat is what he is. He’s cost me ten grand because he’s a fucking stoner who can’t drive. We have work to do.

At night, Curt would fall asleep before Bucky would ever get into bed. Some nights he’d even fallen asleep on the couch in his study once Gale managed to wake himself up enough to drive home, unable to ignore the texts Curt had eventually sent to him after three days of it.

Please tell him to talk to me.

Does he hate me?

Should I leave?

Yes, Bucky was pissed off but it was something he simply needed to get out of his system, and that couldn’t happen when all they’d been doing was discussing risk assessments and trial evidence.

He’ll come around, Curt.

Just wait until Friday. By then we’ll be all wrapped up with everything.

He’s just stressed. I promise.

Curt had been practically clawing at the walls come the weeks end, plopping himself over Bucky’s knee who had given him the slight satisfaction of pressing his hand against Curt’s belly to steady him there. “Almost done?” He chirped, but got no response.

“Did you color code the sections, Gale? Are they all in order?” Bucky’s gaze had stuck on the man across the desk from him, a pen in his mouth as he nodded.

“Yes — you’re worrying will only make —“

“And what about the evidence slides?”

Their back and forth droned on and Curt could feel himself losing grip more and more. Bucky had hardly looked at him for a week, and Gale just the same. He felt like he was right back at the beginning again, wondering when the next text would come by and he’d get that familiar hit of dopamine.

Wyd?

You up?

Wanna come over?

Can I come get you?

“I think we’ve got it all figured out, B.” Curt’s tone was gentle, apprehensive. Bucky could curse him out if he wanted — he wouldn’t be wrong for it.

He ground his ass into Bucky’s knee, huffing softly at the sensation. Without John to pay him attention with his tongue, some fingers or with his and Gale’s cock, he was left to his own devices.

It was hardly as fun.

Bucky wasn’t budging though, holding Curt still by his belly but not moving his hand, not one single bit of attention truly paid to Curt as he fussed on and on about the organization of their defense binders.

“Bucky,” Curt whimpered, leaning his back against his chest as his hands, much smaller than Bucky’s, grasped onto the one that rested over his stomach. “It’s Friday — it’s late. C’mon.”

Gale blinked at the two, his fingers idly scrambling to show each section of the binder Bucky anxiously asked to see without missing a beat or becoming too distracted by a panting and so desperate looking Curtis who spread himself out over Bucky’s lap, a pout visible.

It looked like he could get himself off that way, writhing and whining against Bucky’s body like the friction would be enough to set him over the edge.

“It’s all right here, Bucky. We have this down, buddy.” Gales eyes went soft, his tone assuring. “You’re the best lawyer I’ve ever seen work cases like this.” He was rounding third and headed for home — they were painfully close to the weekend, so far away from Monday morning court rooms.

C’mon, Galey.

“Being diligent never hurt.” Bucky went monotone, turning the binder again to flip through it himself. “It’s horseshoes and hand grenades — close isn’t good enough, Gale.”

One of Gale’s habits was diagnosing the people in his life, whether they knew it or not.

Bucky over time had acquired a wide range of diagnosis, though Gale couldn’t really nail down a few of them unless he put him through some testing, which he was unsure he was legally allowed to ask of him.

And Curt.

Christ.

He was a whole other story.

So imagine the line he towed, the way he held his tongue. Curtis had been open minded to his grounding techniques which he’d been getting better at implementing — in fact, Gale was astonished Curt had gone an entire week without lashing out at anyone.

He would count to ten instead. He’d remind himself Bucky still loved him, because the opposite was a silly thought, and he’d occupy his time with things that he enjoyed, rather than ways to get Bucky back under his wing.

He’d tried so hard.

He buried his face in the pillow on Bucky’s side of the bed and willed himself to make do with what he was given, but he failed time and time again. He felt so desperate, so hopeless. He’d fall asleep with the pillow that was losing his scent tucked against his chest.

Too much time had passed now, though.

It was becoming cruel torture.

Hips rocking against Bucky’s knee, he had totally lost all sense of self — his dignity taking a ding, no less. It hardly mattered anymore. No embarrassment could be felt on his part in front of two men who have picked him apart and fucked every piece.

“Curtis,” Bucky murmured, his brows furrowed at the little body that rut against him like a tiny dog who’d never been fixed, claiming its territory the only way it knew how. “You’re being fucking ridiculous.”

Curt gripped onto the side of Bucky’s desk, panting as he ground his ass stuffed with the only thing that’s kept him sane the past week — his first plug, the one Bucky had bought him under the pretense that Curt would wear it to class.

Of course wearing it to class had turned into wearing it to dinner, to the movies, in the passenger seat of Bucky’s now bruised up Range Rover.

“No, you are.” Curtis huffed, his eyes half lidded.

The siren.

Gale had made direct eye contact and had practically turned to stone, eyes wider than he’d like them to be as he watched intently with his hands frozen over the desk, picking idly at Bucky’s filled-to-the-brim calendar beneath his forearms. “Bucky..” his voice was strained, but his eyes had shown some sort of remorse.

Curt’s eyes had looked puffy lately, his shoulders sulked when he passed the study and neglected his spot near the window for a spot in the garden alone, instead.

“Gale.” Bucky mumbled, sights narrowed in his direction that time — he didn’t seem to be letting up, headstrong in whatever philosophy he felt he was upholding.

Gale had recently told Bucky he needed to be a little more firm in his expressions. Always a maybe, hardly ever a yes or no.

It seems he’d taken that to heart.

“Look at him.” Gales voice was still deep and quiet, trailing off near the tail end whilst Curt squirmed atop Bucky with red cheeks and messy hair as he moaned into his hands. “It’s been a whole week.”

“Gale, he wrecked my car.” Bucky pressed his hand firmly into Curt’s chest to still him but it was hardly any use.

“I get it — “ Gale mumbled back, “it’s pocket change, Johnny. Look how much he’s missed you.” He rose to his feet and bent over the desk, unable to leave poor Curt to writhe alone that way while his hands cupped the pink cheeks that’d become damp with desperate tears. “Poor baby.”

Curt’s black lashes fluttered in a haze, his lips parted where little puffs of determined breaths escaped while he rest his arms over the desk to assist his efforts in violating Bucky’s knee.

“I’m sorry, Curtie.” Gale continued softly, more kisses peppering Curt’s cheeks as the sound of his desperate efforts filled the study and seeped through the open windows into the garden.

Completely undone. So close, but so far. “Need it,” Curt whimpered, not daring to reach for Bucky’s cock because being shoved away would send him into a spiral. “Please — I — I’ll be so good,” hardly intelligible, barely a squeak once he’d gotten the words out.

“Ohh,” Gale cooed, his features softening again at the sight. He kissed away Curt’s tears again, swiping the rest away with his thumbs. “You’re asking nice, hm? Maybe just a little nicer,” he stifled his own moan at the sight, Curt crumbling in his hands. “You know how he likes his good boy, don’t you? Show him how good you can be, baby.”

Curt hiccuped as he inhaled, filling his lungs with the breath he’d been holding. “I fuckin’ have been!” His tone morphed into that of utter frustration through a clenched jaw that had began to ache, just like the rest of him.

It was an accident, the pressure built up inside of him pushing itself out — before he had truly noticed what he’d done, it was too late.

Bucky’s knee grew warmer and at first he’d hardly paid it any attention until it hadn’t gone away. “You didn’t-“ he grabbed Curt’s hips forcefully to move him aside and eyed the damp little spot left over his knee, “Curtis — you did fucking not just—“

“I’m so — I’m sorry. I’msorryI’msorry,”

Oh, the tears had tripled.

Gale still held his face and shushed him, a thought in the back of his mind had pondered the idea that Bucky deserved it, in some way.

Until Curt was shoved over the desk, the binder Bucky’d been fussing for hours over thudding onto the floor in a heap, now long forgotten and replaced by a pair of dickies that needed washing now, a far too sympathetic Gale and a Curtis whose wet cheek muddied the ink written in the tiny boxes of Bucky’s work calendar.

“Bucky, it was an accident,” Gale whispered, watching John yank Curt’s damp jeans off of him and toe them away carefully, an open palm slapped against perky, sunburnt cheeks that had been spending too much time outside with too little sunscreen. “He didn’t mean to, did you, baby?”

“No, I didn’t - I didn’t mean to,” Curt was reeling at the feeling of cool air tickling over his prickly skin. “I promise — I’m so-so-“ he’d been cut off by another open handed clap against his skin, a moan chasing after the whine forced out of him.

His body wiggled over the desk he stayed draped over, his wrists held behind his back with Bucky’s left hand, the other pressing a middle and index finger against the base of Curt’s plug to push it a little deeper into him.

His thighs trembled, damp and spreading apart further for Bucky whose hands were rough and unforgiving.

For the first time in a long time, he felt shame.

Desperation at its finest — so long were any ideals he previously philosophized. He was suddenly becoming nothing without them, the reaper of what he sowed.

And, so be it.

Bucky hardly gave him any spit, shoving his hips forward into Curt who gasped over the desktop, his eyes half lidded and staring at Gale who crouched before him, their lips locking for sporadic durations of sloppy and uncoordinated exchanges.

Cherry. Curt always tasted like cherry. “Oh,” Gale hummed, voice deep and living somewhere in his chest. “Look at you — just made for taking it. Our good boy.”

Curt was so pliant in Gale’s hands, jaw clenched in his palm as he held him in place; so soft and flushed a gentle pink, black lashes fluttering over damp, puffy cheeks.

Bucky was a mess of floppy brown curls falling into his eyes once his hips had developed a ruthless rhythm, Curt’s body beneath him malleable and so willing to please, each breath he took a stuttered choke on his blathering. “Right—right— there” he hiccuped through strangled breathes, “Fucking — fuck me— please”

Beneath him, Bucky’s handwriting muddied more into the pages of his calendar with the evidence of his so called punishment. “You like that, don’t you?” His hips had slowed so abruptly, neither Curt nor Gale could register it. “You’re far from deserving.”

Curt twisted himself to lie on his back instead, sprawled over the desk with his head hanging over the side, his legs spread and his mouth opening pliantly as he looked to Gale again who deserved a little loving, too.

“Oh, good boy.” Bucky cooed, palms flattening against the inside of Curt’s thighs to spread them wider as he watched Gale waste no time undressing himself, his leaking cock taken obediently into Curt’s warm, wet throat. “Make me take it back immediately, huh? No surprise.”

“You’re so fucking — god,” Gale couldn’t see his face anymore, just the mouth that his hips sputtered into but he knew Curt still looked like an angel, even despite the angle he was at. “Don’t care the brat you can be. You’re so good at makin’ up for it.”

Curt’s throat vibrated with a happy little hum, body wracked with shivers and tingles once Bucky began to fuck into him, hooking a hand around Gales neck to pull him closer and kiss him — hot, wet, hurried. As if he just needed anything to occupy his mouth. “Come with me, Gale.” He whispered against Gales lips who bit back a moan. “Make him swallow it.”

Each of their rendezvous had sent him farther and farther into his descent.

What are we?

What is this?

Do I love two men?

Do they love me?

Gale finished first, choking Curt on his cock and then the ribbons and ribbons of white hot pleasure that trickled hot and wet down his throat that he swallowed without hardly wasting a drop despite his belly that tensed as he gagged — this angle was tough, but Gale liked watching Curt struggle a little.

Once Gale backed away, the mouth he’d fucked was kissed by Bucky who licked into it, tasting Gale, swapping spit, biting tongues and lips and chins like animals in a deadly heat.

Curt’s belly grew warmer with a familiar sensation, little body spent atop the desk where his thighs shook and tensed together, his orgasm falling from the sky and straight onto him like some sort of atomic bomb.

His body lay spent and sprawled over Bucky’s table, their once organized files turned into heaps of now disordered mess and chaos. “Happy now, aren’t you?” Bucky tapped an open hand over Curt’s thigh, watching him grin and nod his head, unable to use his voice.

His throat was raw, his body still shuddered with the aftermath of his orgasm, “Told you he’d come back around.” Gale bent down to kiss Curt’s damp forehead, pushing his hair away from his eyes.

(Do you like the extra spaces between paragraphs? Is it easier to read?????? Anyway… lmk…..)

#💌#lcau #curtbucky #Curtbuckygale #yoyo writes

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captainaikus · 2 years

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✨Third one✨ (part 1)

ASJJFYJKHFTUJHG. As soon as I saw the header with Oliver I know it was finally time. LET THE FLIRTY-PLAYBOY-BABYGIRL SERIES BEGIN!!!!

I wanted to take my time diving into this fic and really digest and understand it as much as I can on my first read because I know it’ll be amazing so I saved it for last.

Love the setting up. The description is fantastic. Ohhhh there’s an older sister huh? I wonder if that relationship will come into play later 👀👀. PSHHHHHHHH THEIR FIRST INTERACTION IS LITERALLY COMPARABLE TO TWO JUDGY BRATS PLS ADJMHGGJNNH. This is amazing I already love where this is going Belle. Oh and they tolerate each other now? Hmmmm very much the potential for ignored feelings. “You can pay me back when you become a football star” oh ho ho making promises for the future already are we now? Loving how y/n is a tsundere but still shows that she cares. It’s really cute and adorable. ASHKKGFKKJHGGGG WHY IS IT ALWAYS 16 💀💀??? When I was 16 I was busy trying to survive high school, pass my classes, and watching anime. And here we have realizations of love already what?? Not a problem at all tho I love how quick this is moving along. Getting to the meat of it soon I hope. GASPS YOU DID NOT!!!! AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES ASDJKGGHJHHHG YESSSSSS. NAHHHHH STAB ME IN THE HEART WHY DONT YOU HE REALLY PULLED THE GAY ROOMMATE CARD OLIVER ISTG IF YOU DONT GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR- ahem anyways tough luck y/n stay strong girl 😭😤. Not you already being his wife what is this married-with-benefits 💀💀. Oliver wake up and kiss her already idc if it’s only chapter one 🙄😤🤚🏼. Oh thank God the sisterhood is safe *sighs in relief* as much as I love the drama that would’ve occurred if it had gone “that” route there seriously needs to be more loving sister relationships in writing, blood related or not. We Stan a supportive older sister 😤😤 (that digs up our buried love feelings for us even though we buried then for a reason 💀💀). LOVING THE ADVICE YES PUT YOURSELF FIRST YOU CANT WAIT FOR SOMEONE FOREVER BECAUSE OF THE POTENTIAL YOU SEE IN THEM AND STUNG YOUR OWN GROWTH IF THE TIME IS RIGHT ITLL HAPPEN. This is making me cry what the heck. I really needed to hear a variation of this at many points in life. I swear to God if Oliver starts coming around right after we start moving on I’m gonna riot. On the other hand love how y/n is starting to be real with herself like yes sweetheart you deserve better (and you’ll get that in him after you both grow separately ofc). OH ITS GONNA BE DUAL POV????? HECK YEAH GIMME THE TINY DETAILS FROM THE OTHER PERSON!!!! Oof not the wedding invite scenario pls this reality setting in part is hurting me so much legit tearing up rn gimme a minute Belle 😭😭. *sniffles* but the GROWTH it’s the first step y/n I know it’s hard but you gotta separate honey 😭😤. NO PLS GOD NO HOW DARE HE COME BACK AS IM SOBBING WHAT THE HECK OLIVER PRIVACY MAN. Not him giving you physical affection right when you’re most vulnerable and coming to terms with getting over him and looking all worried LIKE NO STOP THIS IS NOT HELPING OLI. Oh no not the alcohol 💀💀. This is gonna go great just fantastic isn’t it? *inhales deeply* Belle I’m not joking when I say that I was screaming internally the entire sex scene LIKE WHAT. Kicking my feet blushing and everything. It really felt so real. And the dialogue??? Magnificent!!! Tbh it was my favorite part. In my head I was like “NOOOOOOOO” when you kissed him but at the same time “…yes” when it started getting steamy and the teasing plus the praise??? Kill me now why don’t you. NOOOOO NOT THE AWKWARD MORNING *sobs* I mean I was expecting it but like. Serious. Emotional. Damage. 😭😭😭. Oh no. No you can’t be serious. Tearing up again hold on. The eavesdropping on the phone convo broke my heart seriously ouch. Not the way I gasped when he just walked passed the suitcases. Ahh yes. The m word huh? Excuse we while I go sob again. Almost nothing hurts worse than being called a mistake. Either from yourself or others it’s never fun. Speaking from experience. I knew the emotional outburst confession was coming. I knew. But still. Damn. If only everything could be fixed by telling your feeling out. Love her for that. Finally coming clean with everything. Also Oliver’s being such a jerk and an asshole rn but I know the later redemption is gonna be worth it. Still pissed at him rn tho.

- ✨ anon

✨Third one✨ (part 2) It really made me make a part two because the word count was too high the heck.Still pissed at him rn tho. Anyways moving on. I freaking adore how she also wrote her current feelings down as a part of the first letter. And how she just. Didn’t hesitate. And moved on. We’ve got a flight to catch. Oh my God that fic was amazing. Seriously. You outdid yourself. The pacing was fast enough that it didn’t feel dragged out. The characterization was absolutely on point. The oc characters had their own personalities no matter how few lines they had. The dialogue was emotional and to the point. And it was just overall really realistic in the sense of being human, loving, hurting, and moving on. It made me cry so many times. I had to take so many breaks Belle. It was seriously amazing and I loved it so much. I cant wait for the second chapter whenever it comes out!!! - ✨ anon

I read this ask over 20 times (or maybe more already) cause i love it when people go over the details of my writing and you got all of them! (⋟﹏⋞) Thinking if i should make a note of recommended songs before the chapter so that it make it a more immersive experience? The original setup was supposed to be different back in August, but then I came up with this in September. Mei was a part of the story, but the age gap was a really big one - and i had to make a change midway, so mei is 3 years older than (y/n)... I wanted to keep the pacing of the story to a medium because sometimes the details and the amount of drama that happens is such a drag that I wanted to move past that and onto the real stuff; not to mention that if i did drag it out, it would be more than 5 chapters. Mei and (y/n)'s relationship is gonna have more emphasis as the story progresses (cause honestly this is a simple plot but a very complicated one to explain and I don't wanna give away spoilers cause I wanna just see the reaction you guys are gonna give me) and most of the lines that i used in the first part are the ones that are going to be covered in the latter part of the series. it is going to be a dual pov (spoilers for part 2; the story is gonna be from Oliver's pov.) oh god- and this was the first part💀. you might need the whole box of tissues honestly for the onslaught that's gonna come. (i did cry btw. I ate the jar of nutella in such short time for a reason) The sex was such a drag to write honestly 💀 cause i was just not feeling it. Like really not feeling it; and i wanted to get to the conclusion and the angst (cause the potential for dialogue and feelings is high in those areas) but in the end, it ended up being satisfactory when i read it. Leaving the alcohol part out, everyone's first time should be a fun one and my attempt at keeping your standards and expectations high . (you saying that it felt real made my day, cause often times when i read smut, i really can't relate to it cause it straight up sounds like porn sometimes and porn is very unrealistic.) As for the concluding part of it, i had a bit of a struggle cause (y/n) needed a reason to back away from Oliver and the eavesdropping on the other side of the door was the last straw. And then... I just let my fingers do the magic, just typing everything out.

The amount of times I cried cause of the songs I used to write all of this, and the fact that it hits close to home. The second part is going to go on the ao3 account... still deciding the username i want so that i can upload my works there

But thank you for liking and reading it - cause i really enjoyed writing this one. i've already decided the songs i want to put for the next chapter

#belle.☏#.moot🍦: ✨ anon

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goldentsum · 4 years

Text

━ pretty submissives pt. 2

CHARACTERS: tsukishima kei, kageyama tobio, oikawa tooru, kuroo tetsurou

WARNINGS: smut, 18+ content, sub! males, dom! reader, bdsm, sex toys, whiny subs, bratty subs, bondage, oral sex, handjobs, ass play (male), pet play, age play, mistress kink, mommy kink, guided masturbation, voyeurism

AUTHOR’S NOTE: lol tis filthyyy <3 i am hiding my pain away with smut stfu- dont @ me wanting to cry but wrote porn instead- unedited bleggh

part 1 - miya twins, sakusa, suna

— tsukishima ♡

• this brat likes testing your patience! tsukki may go subby but he won’t go down without a fight. that way it hurts his pride less--

• one time, he really tried to take back some dominance from you but you started degrading him and smacking his face.. he came in less than a minute.

• and that’s how you both knew tsukki was a masochist

• put him back in his place and humiliate him! it may hurt his pride but the hard on between his legs says that he likes it--

• seeing the tall and prideful man on all fours with a tight leash on his neck and a mussel to stop that snarky mouth of his is feeding dangerously on your dom side

• tsukki would try and degrade you but when you snap back, he’ll get teary-- baby would try to serve some sadist type of shit on you but if you do the same to him, he’ll cry

• play and bite his lips until its all raw and red, he likes it. though, he’ll complain about it afterwards as if he wasn’t moaning like a whore just earlier.

you smirked at the weak glare the man sent you. tsukishima was sitting on his legs, hands neatly on his lap. the strong act he tried to maintain before was going down hill and it was amusing. you snickered and you caressed his aching cock with your feet making him gasp and kneel over but you tugged on the leash, almost sending him on all fours.

“didn’t i told you to keep your eyes on me, whore” you growled, a teasing smirk on your red lips. oh how tsukishima wants to wipe that arrogant smirk off your lips. he furrowed his brows and went back to his previous spot with small pants escaping him.

you noticed the way he pursed his lips and tugged on the leash again, choking the man before you, “you have something to say to me, puppy?”

tsukishima bit his tongue at that and shook his head, though he was beyond pissed at your prideful and arrogant play, he can’t really deny the arousal that was slowly beading on his cock.

your smirk fell and you gripped his chin, “use your words. do you not want to talk? do i have to get your mussel, pup?”

tsukishima’s breath hitched at the mention of the damn mussel, his cock twitching against his stomach. “n-no, mistress..”

you hummed in satisfaction and leaned back a bit, admiring his nude body on display just for you. you licked your lips when his long cock caught your eye, the head was red and leaking with precum already even though you barely touched him.

“you like this, tsukki?~ look at how hard you are” you teased, pulling the leash once again as the tall man was forced into your arms. tsukishima yelped and tried to steady himself by supporting himself on your arms.

you sneaked a hand between his legs, caressing his cock. the blond closed his eyes tightly, gasping against your chest as you played with his body.

stroking his cock with an amused smirk, you tipped his chin towards you. your darkened eyes stared into embarrassed and teary golden orbs. you squeezed his length, coating his dick with the precum that leaked out. tsukishima moaned and tried to close his eyes again but you weren’t having none of that.

you halted your actions on his cock and slapped him lightly on his cheek, gentle enough to not hurt as much but strong enough to get him to pay attention to you. “none of that, pup. look at me. look at how your slutty body gets off with such dirty acts~”

— kageyama ♡

• he’s a little :>>

• kageyama has an oral fixation, he likes using his mouth whether that’s on your fingers, nipples, or your clit-

• if you have a nipple piercing, baby boy would be in complete awe! he thinks it looks super good! or even if you wear rings! he likes the feeling of the metal on his tongue.

• pretty boy looks good when he sucks on your fingers, that slick tongue swirling around your digits, coating them with thick spit. he gets super red and needy while he does it too! he looks at you with half lidded eyes, moaning around your fingers.

• baby doesn’t even know his cock is getting hard while he plays with your fingers.

• please take care of him </3 he gets super anxious if you don’t say anything, kageyama feels like he did something wrong so reassure this baby!

• buy him toys and stuffies! it makes him really happy and shy~ <3

• also not @ that one time where you caught him humping one of his teddy bears--

“now what do we have here?~” your voice cut through kageyama’s series of needy moans making him yelp and stop his constant humping. his ears turned red at the fact that you caught him doing such impure act.

“m-mommy--” he sniffled, tears welling up on his pretty blue eyes. kageyama turned to you, a pout on his lips. he didn’t want you to think you weren’t taking good care of him cus you are! he was just feeling so needy today and you had to go to work.

kageyama really tried to control his urges but the more he tried to ignore it, the more it intensifies as every shift of his hips made him more sensitive.

you shook your head playfully at that and closed the bedroom behind you, stalking slowly towards the trembling man. he slumped on the stuffie and tried to reason but he was just babbling incoherent words. you hummed at his chattering and run a hand through his hair, wiping the sweat on his forehead.

“is my baby feeling needy?” you cooed, you bit your lips at the beautiful sight. your boyfriend is so fucking beautiful. cheeks all red, eyes teary with tears of frustration of not getting to cum and sensitivity. your hand lowered down to his cheek, stroking the warm skin.

your eyes darkened when your fingers trailed down to his lips and instinctively, kageyama opened his mouth, already licking the tip of your fingers. the dark-haired male whined around your digits when you started playing with his tongue, thrusting it in his mouth.

“words, baby boy” kageyama’s eyes rolled back at your tone, moaning loudly. he opened his eyes and looked straight at you, lips trembling around your fingers.��

“p-pwease helph meh, mwommy” he babbled, slurring his words as he still tried to lick your digits.

“atta boy~ don’t worry, mommy will help you cum~” you cooed, removing your fingers out of his mouth and trailed down his stomach, feeling the flexing muscles, then towards his aching cock. you coated his length with his spit, thumbing the swollen tip.

kageyama gasped and his hips moved at the sudden contact. you smirked down at him slightly as he held your wrist, though not really stopping you just something to ground him. “let’s hear those pretty moans, baby boy~”

— oikawa ♡

• a wholeass confident sub. he knows he’s a good sub and he takes pride on that

• you can’t even reprimand him cus he follows your rules to the t. so headpats and cuddles for tooru pls <3

• though he follows your rules, oikawa doesn’t really pay attention to his body and it’s limits. all he knows is that he wants to make you proud and feel good.

• so please take the time to appreciate his body, praise him. yes, he gets compliments all the time but when it’s coming from you and in that moment? it just feels so intimate that he’ll cry.

• kiss his skin, caress his body. make him feel loved and he’s all yours. <3

• when he gets too into the play, he really forgets everything else but you. so what better way to stop and slow down than make him show you how he pleasure himself <3

• tooru doesn’t really masturbate all that much so he’s a little clumsy so guide him through it <3 HE GETS REALLY SHY TOO

• when you stare at him like that, admiring his body, praising him, telling him how much of a good boy he is, how beautiful he is? oikawa’s offering you his heart pls take care of it :((

you smiled at oikawa, his breath ragged with every slow stroke he does as he massaged his cock. your eyes trailed up and down his body, admiring the way he arch his back and the way his thighs trembles.

“slowly, baby~ you don’t wanna ruin your orgasm now do you?” you said, leaning back on your legs on the mattress, getting a good view of his cock and his stroking.

oikawa whined, eyebrows furrowed. the slow build-up once again was making him impatient and it was getting to him. he wants to cum so bad, you denied him a couple of his orgasms already. he hic-ed, feeling his tears trail down his red cheeks.

you cooed at the sight and leaned closer to him, hovering above him. oikawa gasped at the slight contact of your clothed body on his heated skin. he removed his hands away from his cock and wrapped his arms around you.

letting a hand caress his cheek, wiping the tear away. you let out soft praises on his forehead, kissing it several times as you do so. oikawa sniffled, biting his lips as he savor your affection. he was always a sucker for it, always the soft boy with a big heart

“p-please... i want to cum” oikawa whispered, lips quivering as he wet it with his tongue. he gasped when he felt your hands on his cock. you grinned at him then went back to your previous position between his legs.

you blew air into his cock making the man whimper on the bed, writhing around trying to make you move. you snickered at the pout he sent your way.

“such a pretty baby, you are tooru~” you complimented and before he can say anything, you took him in your mouth in one go. oikawa choked on air at the feeling of your warm and wet mouth around his sensitive cock.

oikawa moaned when you swiped your tongue on the red tip, swallowing his length as you bob your head.

he gripped the blankets beneath him, eyes rolling back. you removed your mouth off him, jerking his length. “wanna cum, baby?”

he sobbed and nodded his head frantically, feeling the band on his lower stomach threatening to snap once again as he pray that you would let him cum this time. “p-please! i want to cum! need it! it hurts!” he cried

you grinned and took him into your mouth again, moving faster. the pretty male gasped and his hips started jerking making you gag on his length. his eyes rolled back to his skull at the feeling of your throat tightening around him, his mouth wide open as he released several loud moans.

you sneaked a hand to his balls, massaging it. your tongue traced the prominent vein on his cock and oikawa keened at that and came with a loud broken moan. you hummed in satisfaction and continued to bob your head, your hand jerking the rest of his cock.

you lapped at the thick cum he released, slurping it up as he shivered and sobbed at the sensitivity. “t-thank you.... thank y-you”

— kuroo ♡

• okay some of you may think he’s all dom and won’t sub but you’re forgetting something... he’s a simp. he would do anything for you! also, kuroo thrives for your attention!

• he loves hard shit! i know it! bdsm, toys, bondage? perfecttt!! <3

• kuroo tried pegging once and now he’s addicted! fuck his ass while you degrade him is his go to to de-stress

• make him cum several times until he can’t feel his cock anymore. he loves the pain it brings. the sting. the sensitivity.

• also because of the fact he screams and cries.. so his voice goes all raspy and his throat is scratchy

• choke him. collar him. he will propose to you <3 KSKSKS

• but after all that bdsm shit, please take care of his tired body. aftercare is a must for this baby or he’ll be so detached after. kiss his bruises. kiss his swollen and red lips. mutter sweet nothings to him. tell him how much you love him and he’ll sleep with a tired but soft smile on his face

“yes... yes, moreee. m-moree” kuroo chanted against your pussy, eating you out like a starved man. he groaned against your wet cunt, tongue swiping at your slit as he tasted you. his hands were on your thighs, pushing them together so he can feel your thick thighs against his face.

he gripped your thighs, moaning like a bitch in heat. he slurped at your essence, eyes rolling back at your taste. his hips moving unconsciously. you moaned, caressing his hair, as you looked down at his fucked out expression with a smirk.

“such a dirty boy~” you snickered when kuroo moaned lewdly at your words, his eyes rolling back to his head as his mouth worked on your cunt faster. he wiggled his tongue inside you, licking your gummy walls.

“ahh.. fuck, tetsu” you moaned softly which only urged him to work on your pussy harder. you chuckled breathlessly at his eagerness as you turned your head a bit. you looked at his twitching cock.

you put the cock ring earlier but the man was still leaking precum everywhere. his cock was so beautiful. thick and long, the tip red and swollen. you grinned and moved away from tetsu’s mouth.

you heard the man whined at the lost of contact. you faced toward his shaking thighs and sat on his stomach as you turned your head back to look at him. god, he looks so pretty~

kuroo was panting, chest heaving heavily. his lower face was covered with your wetness as he constantly licked his lips. his eyes blown wide with lust.

you smirked at him and touched his cock, snickering when the touch made him whimpered as he arched on the bed. paying no mind to his senseless babbling, you lowered yourself to his cock, using his trembling thighs to support yourself.

kuroo’s eyes rolled back to his head at the way your wet and gummy wall clung to his sensitive length and it was enough to make him cum but the cock ring was preventing him from doing so.

he looked at you with teary eyes, eyebrows furrowed. you smirked and then face forward to reached for the dildo beside you, slowly inserting it into his prepped ass which earned you a husky groan. “make me cum and i’ll think about it if you deserve to cum as well~” you cooed.

kuroo cried when you started moving, your pussy clenching tightly around his dick, while your hands thrust the thick dildo in his ass, prodding his prostate. his hands flew to your hips, his half-lidded eyes watching your ass bounce in front of him, “f-fuck!”

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mviswidow · 4 years

Text

wanda’s ride

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: SMUT!! porn w plot, thigh riding, a whole lot of teasing, bottom! wanda

Prompt: I was thinking maybe you could do something where wanda is flirting with natasha and other team members and fem! reader gets jealous and decides to... you know "punish" her

Summary: Wanda tries provoking R to get her to fuck her, but it lands her in trouble. A/N: there’s a bit of Sharon slander but pls forgive me, i love her. this is also kind of slow paced, but i wouldn’t say it’s slow paced in a bad way?

Your eyes settled on Wanda talking to flirting with Natasha for probably the hundredth time that night. You knew she was doing it to get a rise out of you, especially since she kept looking at you while she was doing it, leaning closer to Nat as she laughed at whatever she said, putting her hand on her arm to hold herself up.

A few minutes later Wanda came and sat beside you where you were listening to and occasionally participating in the discussion Bucky was having with Maria about weapons or something. To be fair, you were only half paying attention because of how distracting Wanda was being.

Your thighs were pressed against hers in the lounge chair so you could both fit, and your arm ended up around her shoulder. You placed a kiss on her bare collarbone, enjoying the skin you got to see in her off-the-shoulder dress, “Behave yourself,” You warned, placing another kiss at her sweet spot before biting the skin there softly.

Wanda took your hand that wasn't around her shoulders in her own and placed it on her thighs, her hand over yours.

You chuckled and shook your head, “Always so horny, aren’t we, darling?” You said in a low voice, not wanting Bucky or Maria to hear, even though they weren’t paying attention to the two of you anyway, too caught up in their conversation.

Wanda said nothing, but just nodded as you squeezed her thigh and smirked at her flushed face. She’d begged you to just tell Tony that one of you was feeling sick so you didn’t have to go to the party and you could fuck her into the next day. Her goal was to provoke you enough to get you to leave and take her with you and you knew it, but you had much more self control than she did.

You moved your thumb back and forth on the inside of her thigh for a few minutes, listening to Bucky and Maria, sometimes jumping in on the conversation, and other times nudging Wanda for her to say something.

She wasn’t listening so most of the time she just agreed with whatever she’d heard last. She was trying to think of something that would push you over the edge and get you to drag her out of the room.

Eventually, Steve came over to talk to Bucky and Tony had called you over, so the two of you had separated again.

Wanda was growing frustrated because no matter what she did, you would just smirk at her or stare stone faced. She was really horny after working herself up, thinking of all the ways you would ruin her. There was probably an hour left of the party when she got an idea, hoping that it would work.

Finally, your expression changed when she walked over to Sharon, starting up a conversation. She knew how you weren’t particularly fond of her. You didn’t hate her, but you hated the way she would look at Wanda sometimes when she happened to be in the training room while the two of you were training. And you despised the way her eyes flicked to Wanda’s cleavage when she got closer to her. Your eyebrows shot up when you saw Wanda put her hands on Sharon’s waist, and Sharon looked like she was thanking Wanda, so you assumed your girlfriend had complimented her, but you were having none of it when you were worried Sharon would put her hands on Wanda.

“For fucks sake,” You muttered, excusing yourself from Tony and Natasha, which made them laugh when they saw what Wanda was doing to get you riled up, before going over to where she was standing with Sharon beside the bar, your heels clicking on the floor.

Wanda backed up when she heard you getting closer, and when you put an arm around her waist before kissing her temple, she smiled at you, “Hi, sweetheart.”

You hummed in response before turning to Sharon, greeting her quickly to get the niceties out of the way, nodding at her half smile. “Do you still not feel well, my love? I finally convinced Tony to let us back to our room now that things have died down.”

You almost smirked at the excited look in Wanda’s eyes, but you just moved your arm further down her waist, letting it rest right above her ass while you both said goodbye to Sharon and made your way to the elevator.

You took her hand in yours, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and walked inside, clicking the button to your floor.

Neither of you spoke and the tension was thick, but you just stood there leaning against the wall, playing with the rings on Wanda’s fingers, thinking of all the things you could do to her, knowing she was reading your mind.

Her breathing had become irregular and her face was red, her lips slightly parted, and you noticed her thighs pressed together when you thought of ramming into her with her favorite strap-on.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. You smiled and let Wanda leave first, opting to slap her on the ass playfully, which made her giggle, as you made your way into the kitchen and took a banana from the fruit bowl, peeling it and taking a bite of it as you watched Wanda shift uncomfortably on the barstool.

“What are you doing?” You asked after you swallowed your first bite.

A look of confusion played on her features and she tilted her head, “Nothing, I’m just waiting for you.”

“Go get changed for bed, just panties and a t-shirt. When you’re done I want you to come back in here and have a snack. Once you’ve done that you can come back to our room,” You instructed and watched Wanda get up and walk to your room as fast as her feet could carry her without breaking out into a run, which made you chuckle.

On your way to the room you shared with Wanda, she was passing you in the hallway, and you gave her a little smile. She looked so soft, her makeup had been wiped away and her wavy hair was resting over her shoulders, the hem of her shirt just covering her bottom.

You almost stopped her, wanting to kiss her, but you refrained from distracting yourself and her, knowing that she would try to eat quickly and you didn’t want her to make herself sick or anything.

Once in your room, you changed out of your clothes from the party and put on underwear, a pair of sleep shorts, and a tank top that you often wore to bed. You wiped away your makeup and fixed your hair so it would stay out of your face before picking up the book you’d been reading from your nightstand and going from where you were.

After a few short minutes, you heard the door open, but you didn’t look up until you’d reached the bottom of the page you were on, noticing that Wanda was still standing at the door, looking unsure of what to do.

“Do you need something?” You asked innocently with a cocked eyebrow.

“I just thought we were - you know, that you would-”

“Spit it out, baby,” You interrupted.

She looked flustered and you had half the mind to laugh at her, “I thought you were going to punish me.”

You nodded and looked back to your book, “I will.”

She chuckled and finally closed the door, walking up to the bed and sitting on her knees in front of you, clearly wanting your attention. “Are you just going to make me wait?”

“I’ll leave you untouched for a week if you’re going to be a brat about it,” You challenged, looking up at her.

“I’m sorry,” She apologized immediately, panic in her eyes. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

You smiled, pleased at her response, and leaned up to kiss her. She tried to work you up, doing the little things she knew you loved, and you teased her back just as much, biting her bottom lip, brushing your tongue with hers. You squeezed her lower lip between your lips as you pulled away from her, making her smile.

“So are we-”

“If you want to get off right now, the only way you’ll be doing it is on my thigh,” You deadpanned, looking back down at your book and moving your thigh closer to her.

“What, while you just sit there and read?” She scoffed.

You sighed, feigning annoyance, “Would you rather I get the strap out and make you cockwarm until I finish my book? I have around 100 pages left, you’d be there for quite a while, my love, just dripping onto my lap.”

Wanda shook her head, as much as she loved cockwarming for you, “I need to cum, babe, please. If I ride your thigh will you let me?”

“Probably,” You shrugged. “Take your panties off before you get on,” You said, tapping your thigh before you flipped the page of your book. You were only half paying attention, it was really hard to read while your girlfriend was ready to beg you to fuck her, but you knew how much she absolutely hated the lack of attention you were giving her, so you considered it worth it.

You felt her weight leave the bed for a second, and she hurried to get her panties off before getting back on and carefully straddling your thigh that had been waiting for her and placing one of her hands on your shoulder and the other on the bed next to your leg.

You bit the inside of your lip when you felt the wetness from her cunt on your skin, she was dripping and you were itching to comment on it, but stayed silent until you heard her sigh, relieved that she could finally get what she needed, whether you planned on helping her or not, “Oh, I wouldn’t get too excited yet, princess, I can’t make it too easy for you, now can I?”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You opted to ignore her attitude, “By the end of the night, your ass is going to be nine different shades of red after that little stunt you pulled tonight. We’re only getting started with this.” You said, and you couldn’t resist looking at her, an exasperated look on her face.

“You’re cruel,” She whined.

You hummed in agreement and slapped her ass with your hand, which made her hips jerk forwards, “Move.”

You didn’t have to tell her twice. She immediately started moving her hips back and forth, spreading her wetness on you. You felt her fingernails dig into your shoulder blade and it wasn’t long before soft sighs were escaping her mouth, “What, does that feel good, pretty girl?”

“Yes,” She nodded, closing her eyes, and finally moaned. Quietly, yes, but it was your favorite thing to hear, so you didn’t care.

“Good,” You smiled and flipped your book onto yourself before taking the hand that was on your shoulder and removing the rings on her fingers off, seeing that she’d forgotten to do that in the haste of getting herself ready for you, which made you chuckle. You reached over and dropped them on the nightstand, hearing them clink together as they landed on the wood. “Now, hands off, princess, behind your back or on your thighs, your pick.”

She nodded, too turned on to protest, and put her hands behind her back, never stopping the movement of her hips. That didn’t last long though, and she only kept her hands behind her back before they fell to her thighs, gripping the bottom of her shirt and bunching it up, which gave you the most beautiful view of her clit bumping against your skin.

You noticed her pace had quickened, and you put a hand on her waist, “Slower.” You flipped your book back up to read, but you weren’t paying very much attention, it was merely for theatrics.

You kept one hand at her waist, since she was having trouble keeping the rocking of her hips slow, this was her punishment, you couldn’t make it too easy for her. You almost felt bad for her with how incredibly slow you had her going. Almost. Both of you knew she wasn’t going to cum like this, but you’d give her what she wanted eventually. The only sounds in the room were her whines and quiet grunts, and her head was down, chin almost touching her chest.

After a minute of her grinding slowly, you let her move her hips faster, you didn’t want to tire her out too quickly. Once she was going at a steady momentum, you removed your hand from her waist and smiled when she kept going at the same speed, “Look at that, who knew my best girl could be so independent?”

Wanda’s head lifted so she could glare at you, but you just smiled at her proudly and went back to your book, but you jerked your leg up while she was rocking forward, making her moan from the pressure on her clit.

“You can go faster now,” you mumbled, turning the page of your book, smiling when you got to the exact page you’d been waiting to find.

She moaned and complied, her pussy practically begging for release. You smirked as you felt her juices dribble down your thigh, “Look at that, Wands, you’re making such a mess.”

You put your finger in between the pages and shut your book, using your other hand to wipe upwards, collecting her wetness on your fingers and bringing it to your mouth, moaning when you tasted her on your tongue. God, you couldn’t wait to devour her later. Wanda whimpered at the sound of your moan and her hips started to move a little faster, and you let her.

“Hey, baby?” You hummed, wanting her attention on you.

Her eyes opened, and she looked at you, hoping that you would finally tell her you would take care of her, or that she’d been so good for you and now she could finally have what she wanted, but you said none of that. You simply turned your book towards her, pointing at a paragraph at the top of one of the pages, “Can you read this page out loud for me?”

Wanda grunted, tired, horny, annoyed, and frustrated, but took the book in her hands, moaning when she read the first two sentences in her head. You were making her read a lesbian fucking sex scene and she had never hated or loved you more.

You smirked at her as she tried to read coherently, but she was almost done, “Kate’s tongue licked a stripe up - fuck- up Alice’s center and flicked her tongue against her clit.” Wanda let out a whine and her pleading eyes met yours.

“Give me two more sentences, darling. I’ll let you fuck yourself on my thigh when you’re done, I promise,” You nodded, urging her on.

Her shaky voice continued, and you could tell she was struggling to focus, “God, Alice pulled a pillow over her face to muffle her moans, but as soon as she did, Kate pulled back, bit at her thigh. ‘Let me see,’ she- she murmured. fuck- ‘Please.’” She moaned once more and you took the book from her, tossing it to the nightstand.

“Fucking, finally,” Wanda groaned, as you sat up straighter.

Her hands surged forward and she pulled you towards her, not being able to stop herself from kissing you feverishly. You kissed her back, but not for long. You turned her head with your hand a little and started kissing down her jaw to reach her neck before starting to suck at her neck with the intention of marking her.

“Babe, fuck, don’t do that, they’ll see tomorrow,” Wanda moaned, but it didn’t seem like she cared that much, because she brought a hand up to grip your hair and her hips were moving faster.

“Good, I want them to. Maybe that bitch will learn to stay away from you then, hm? Or did you forget what got you into this? You don’t exactly have the grounds to tell me what to do right now, my love,” You smirked and nipped at the skin besides the hickey you just made.

Wanda’s hips jerked forward and her grip on your hair tightened, almost painfully, “Please,” She whimpered.

Your thigh was coated in her juices and the slickness was making it harder for her to get any friction on her clit.

“Do you want some help, princess? Is that it?” You teased, already starting to suck a new hickey above her collarbone.

She whined, “Yes, please.”

“Say it, I want to hear you say it,” You mumbled against her sweaty skin.

“Let me get off on your thigh while you play with my clit, god- please,” Wanda’s head dropped to your shoulder, but her action was short lived, because you detached your mouth from her neck, tilted her face up, and brought your thumb up to her mouth.

She parted her lips and sucked in your thumb, swirling her tongue around it and getting it wet with her spit, not that it would need to be already wet once it got down there.

You kissed her shoulder and tapped the side of her face with your other fingers, signaling for her to open her mouth.

You brought your thumb down to her clit and started rubbing slow circles, and she reacted immediately, moaning loudly and whining something in Sokovian.

You increased your pace and her hips sped up, knowing that she was close because she only started speaking in Sokovian in bed when she was going to come. She was moving almost erratically, and all she could do was babble in her mother tongue and moan at your ministrations.

“This is what you wanted isn’t it? You wanted to see what I would do when I got mad, yes? You wanted me to make a mess of you? I think I’ve done just that, darling, I’ve reduced you to just moans and babbles.”

She nodded frantically and bucked her hips on your thigh. You kissed her and swallowed some of her moans, and at this point you were probably dripping onto the bed, too.

“‘M close, please,” She begged, needing release after being teased relentlessly.

“Take your shirt off,” You instructed, and she did immediately.

You took a nipple in your mouth, switching between biting it gently and swirling your tongue around it, and you used the hand that you weren’t using to rub at Wanda’s clit to tease the other nipple in your hand, making her back arch, almost dramatically.

She cursed in Sokovian and groaned, her movements jerky and you could tell how tired she was, “Please, ‘m gonna cum, babe, please-”

You lifted your head up from her nipple, but continued gently pulling at the other in between your fingers. Your noses brushed together as you kissed her again, before pulling back, “Go on, come for me, show me that you can follow instructions so this doesn’t have to happen again.”

Wanda moaned and her back arched, your thumb continuing to work at her clit until the tenseness in her body snapped and she let out a strangled cry as she came on your thigh.

You were quick to leave her nipple and put your arm behind her, supporting her weight as her hips slowed, and you kept working at her clit slowly until her hips stopped completely and her body was relaxed.

She was panting heavily and her head had rested on your shoulder. You chuckled airily and kissed the side of her face, “You did so well, pretty girl, I’m so proud of you.”

Wanda smiled at your praises and mumbled out a ‘thank you’.

You knew you had to give her a break before going at it again, so you let her slump against you as your fingers danced along her spine and you continue to whisper praises in her ear.

Once she’d calmed down she pushed herself off of you and tried to settle into bed.

“What are you doing?” You asked, a single eyebrow raised.

“I’m sleepy,” She said simply and looked up at you.

You tutted and shook your head, “Oh, no, baby. I was serious, I’m not done with you. Your ass is going to be real tender tomorrow morning.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff oneshot #wanda maximoff smut #lesbian smut #fxf smut #thigh riding #bottom!wanda

2K notes · View notes

palbabor-writes · 4 years

Text

Practicum

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT/18+ only, unbalanced/unhealthy relationships, student/teacher sex, tw.dubcon, tw.sub/dom dynamics, brat taming, fingering, masturbation, a table is pretty roughed up in this, so pls hold a brief moment of silence for it

Words: 12,857

“So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And...answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Notes: the title was selected because it’s got the word cum in it. ahhh, the things that crack me up. anyhow.

this is part of the BNHA Degeneracy server’s 9 to 5 collaboration! i had a ton of fun participating in this and thank you guys for making this so freaking awesome! special shoutout & thanks to @albinoburrito & @kugutsuu for their beta edits! this was a departure from what i usually write about and i appreciate all of your notes and help!

Practicum prac·ti·cum /ˈpraktəkəm/ noun a practical section of a course of study

It’s your senior year, they said. Live a little, they advised. Stop and take a breather, you’re practically home free! Take some easier classes. Focus on what’s in front of you, it’ll be over before you know it! On and on and on.

Spring semester is almost here. You’ve applied for graduation, the cap and gown ordered, and you have a shiny class ring sitting on your pinky. It’s in the bag. Just breeze through four more classes and you’re out. Well, it would be an easy shot, if you hadn’t put off this one class.

It always popped up, so it’s not like you could plead ignorance. Your advisor warned you, each quarterly meeting, that you needed to get it out of the way. Take it seriously, he cautioned, clacking out his notes, typing down that you’d failed to heed his sage advice, again. If you wait too long, you’re not going to get the professor that you want.

That was the other problem. You’re a procrastination superstar. If there was some kinda award for putting off assignments, you’d have won it ten times over. You liked the heart pounding race to the deadline, the sleepy boasts that you’d tackled the project within hours of its due date.

It’s a stupid habit. Every semester you promise yourself that you’ll do better. You won’t wait, you’ll tackle things one assignment at a time and turn them before the hard cut off at 11:59 pm. Who the fuck did you think you were kidding? Certainly not your friends, or your advisor. He could read you like a book. Hell, he’d even sent warnings.

‘Don’t forget about the deadline for senior registration!’

‘You don’t want to be on a waitlist. You especially don’t want to take one of the harder professors. These are freshman level classes, they’re designed to flunk undergrads. Don’t forget (Y/N), chew them up and spit them out tactics are employed.’

But you had. You’d set an alarm on your phone, then neglected to give it a title, so you’d only chuckled and smacked the chirping into silence that morning, snoozing the all important deadline away.

Fuck.

Most of the classes for biology are wait-listed. No, scratch that, all the classes for Intro to Genetic Biology are wait-listed. You opt into the waitlist for all of them, just in case, and a week later your phone alerts you that one has an open seat. Actually, it has several open seats, too many open seats to be natural. However, you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so for now, you’re enrolled in BIO 1208: Principles of Cell and Organismal Physiology - For Non-Science majors.

Perfect.

Yeah, no. You’d looked up the professor, since the whole open seat thing was still giving you the heebie-jeebies, and your heart dropped. You’ve heard of him, most of the student body has. His classes are notoriously small. Not because the university limited them, or planned for smaller class sizes. No, his classes are tiny because he is infamous for failing students.

Most, when they realize they’re scheduled for his bio classes, frantically drop, taking the withdrawal and praying for better luck next semester. Others, brave souls who think they can come out unscathed, attempt to grit their teeth and push through. But, by midterms, they’re war torn and haggard, shaking their heads and praying for a ‘C’, at best. Fewer still, pass.

This pedagogy isn’t a sign of good teaching; quite the opposite, in fact. You don’t want your student body failing. Yet, year after year, Professor Tomura Shigaraki keeps teaching the same Intro to Bio class. It boggles the mind, but you’ve never had to worry about it. Well, until now.

When you’d received the notification that you’re enrolled in the B section and spied the name Shigaraki under the professor listing, you’d scarfed down your suddenly flavorless lunch and dashed up the steps to the student advising hall, praying there was some way you could wiggle your way out of this growing disaster.

“I’m pretty sure I told you to take it earlier and to take it in the fall when there are more freshman level classes available. I swear I said that to you. And, AND, I even sent you emails, several times if my sent inbox is to be believed, to NOT forget when senior registration ends.”

Your advisor is peeved. You don’t blame him. He’s right, this is your fault, but there’s gotta be some kinda loophole. Something, fuck, anything, that can pull you from this mess.

“I know, I know! I’m so sorry. You’re right. But, I mean, can’t I just hold off for another week? See if the waitlist clears?”

The man that you’ve known for four years, that’s seen you progress from freshman to senior, steeples his long fingers and purses his lips, likely debating on a tactful scolding, or a firm rebuttal. He takes a deep breath and you can’t help but sink into the soft cushioning of the chair, your nose wrinkled and brow furrowed, mentally preparing yourself for the worst.

“Do you know how many students we require to take BIO 1208?”

“No,” you gulp, nibbling on your lower lip nervously.

“Over 7,000. Do you want to hear the statistics that would need to shake out in your favor for you to miraculously avoid taking this specific class? Nothing is going to open for you, it is this class, or no class.”

You sigh, and your advisor nods, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Well then, I suggest you brush up on your study skills. Find a classmate that you can compare notes with, join a study group, go to the student union and ask for a tutor. I would hate to see you back here for the summer semester. You’re scheduled to walk the stage this spring and you’ve worked hard for this, so don’t fuck it up, okay?”

You’ve attended this university for four years, but the first day of term always gives you the jitters. It doesn’t matter that you know your way around, or that you know ten professors by name, and bump into several friends on the way to your next building, you’re always buried in your phone, checking and double checking the next class’ room number.

Despite all that caution, you’re lost.

In your defense, it’s your first time stepping foot in the Graduate & Research building and the whole concrete block is a fucking maze. There must be a basement because the numbers don’t match up with the floors and they seem to jumble further every time you round a corner. Like what the hell? How can this next room be GR 3.03.05 when this is clearly only the second floor and GR 2.03.11 was right down that other hallway?

Exasperated, you lean against the nearest wall and tug your phone out again. Shit. Class started ten minutes ago.

Part of you wants to call it a day, end the search here and try again on Wednesday. Maybe take a few extra minutes to scout out the building next time and have some idea of where you’re going before the start of class.

Ugh, why is this so stressful?

It’s the first day of classes. Surely Professor Shigaraki won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late; besides, if you’re lost, others must be too.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and resume the hunt. Two hallway turns later, you find your mark.

Your hand pauses beside the heavy wood, and you take a steadying breath. Again, why are you so nervous? Just go in and take a seat, it’s easy, stop freaking out over nothing.

The door groans open, hinges protesting the sharp push, and you stumble into a darkened room. The low glow of the projector doesn’t help your blurry vision. Ah, shit, it’s one of those older rooms, so it’s built like a bad movie theater. Oh well, better get to a seat before he spots you.

Swiftly, you make your way toward the raised steps of the aisle and the second row of chairs, plopping into the first one you reach that’s empty. You’re too busy fiddling with the zipper of your backpack to notice that the speaker has stopped his rasping preamble, but as you pull your laptop out the ominous weight of that heavy silence hits you and you toss a hooded stare toward the front of the lecture hall.

Immediately, your eyes land on the professor’s and you feel a low shiver shake up your spine.

He’s watching you.

The gleam of the overhead projector makes his red eyes flash, and he openly scowls at your gaping expression, his lips curling into a dark sneer.

“Well, thank you for joining us, Miss…?”

He’s waiting for your response and you squeak out your last name, mindlessly rubbing your moistening palms against your thin skirt.

“Ah, Ms. (L/N). Now that you’ve graced the class with your belated presence, may I continue?”

“Uh,” you gasp out, your mouth dry, tongue sticking to your teeth, “I’m sorry. I got–”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation, or in your case, an excuse. Or are you now attempting to disrupt this class purposefully?”

“Wha– I-I’m–” your words stumble to a halt, voice failing under the intense glare that he’s giving you. “No,” you finish lamely, ducking your head, nails digging into your sweaty palms.

“Thank you. Do me a favor, stay after class.” His voice is gravel, threatening and low. You don’t like the edge in his tone. It makes your skin prickle and your knees knock. He sounds like the kind of guy that you don’t want to run into in a dark alleyway, or a classroom, for that matter. Even so, it’s not your fault, and despite your feelings of unease, you can’t tamp down your need to protest his unreasonableness.

“But, professor, I didn’t mean to–”

“If I need to repeat my insistence for silence, I’ll make things easier on both of us and fail you now.”

Stunned and fuming, you bite your tongue and lean back into your chair, crossing your arms and blinking back mounting tears of frustration. Great, just great. It’s the first fucking day of class and it looks like you’re already on his shit list. And for what? For being late on fucking syllabus day! What an ass.

You look over at him as you defiantly finish setting up your computer, hoping each pull of a zipper or screen reboot will grate under his stuck up skin. He’s not inordinately tall, or old. In fact, he looks like he might only be in early 30s. He has long white hair that’s pulled back into a low ponytail and, from what you can make out in the dim lighting, some kinda skin condition on his forehead. That, or he’s prematurely wrinkled, and let’s be honest, if he’s gone through life with that big of a stick up his ass, he deserves each and every pull on that mottled skin of his.

You linger in your seat when class is over, lips pulled into a thin line and legs crossed. Finally, when the last student has left the room, professor Shigaraki flips a switch beside his elevated podium, filling the lecture hall with a sharp, fluorescent light. He pauses by his raised computer system and clicks off the overhead projector, blanketing the massive room in an uncomfortable silence.

“Since you missed the part of class where I go over the syllabus, I’ll give you a brief rundown. Under no circumstances will I tolerate tardiness. If you do it once more I’ll mark you absent and three absences knock you down a full letter grade.”

Glumly, you cross your arms and peer up at him, finally able to get a good look at his face. Your first observation was correct. His skin is sharper around his forehead, but his wavy white hair does a pretty decent job of covering up the imperfections. He has two scars: one nicks across his right eye and the other splits down his rough lips, parting the skin and granting him an even more foreboding appearance than his already gruff demeanor does. He’s dressed in a dark pair of jeans and he’s wearing a low slung v neck shirt. It’s a brilliant red and it brings out that otherworldly glint of his red eyes. Shit, you think bitterly, while he’s not conventionally handsome, he’s not exactly hard on the eyes either.

You shake your head against these unproductive musings and curtly snap out a clipped, ok.

“What was that?” Shigaraki scoffs, tilting his head at your sullen figure. “Speak up.”

“I said,” you bristle, eyes narrowing and chin lifting, “Okay, I apologize for interrupting your lecture, it won’t happen again. But, in my defense, if I’m allowed to do that in this class, I’ve never been in this building before, and it’s not like–”

“You’re a senior, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Then you’ve had four years to figure out the layout of this university. The excuse of ‘being lost,’ isn’t an option for you. You know the buildings and you’re fully capable of turning up early to sort out the rooms.”

You let out a long sigh and look away, mumbling vague protests. This guy is ridiculous. You’re not a science major and it’s not your job to know the ins and outs of each building. How fucking stupid. Who does he think he–

“Speak up. I won’t ask you again.”

You bite your lip and look back at him but he’s moved in that distracted moment, silently stepping down from his raised platform and is now leaning over the first row of chairs, looming over you. You can’t help your sudden flinch as you sink further into your chair, away from him.

“If you’re gonna complain, Ms. (L/N), I’d much rather hear it. Don’t you think It’s rude for you to mutter under your breath about me? You don’t see me doing that to you.”

“Fine,” you blurt out, turning away from his insistent, and all too close, gaze. “I was saying that I’m not a science major. I get that I’m a senior, but you can’t seriously expect me to know every nook and cranny of this campus.”

“No, but I can ask for you to be a little more thoughtful. I put time and effort into my lessons and I won’t have you undermining them by bouncing in here with those legs and that flouncy little skirt.”

You’re about to counter his little haughty speech on politeness when you finally process that final comment he’d breathed out. Flabbergasted, you raise your head back to his, but he’s already moving away, snatching up his shoulder bag and waving you a curt goodbye as he presses open the squeaky door. “Next class is at 10 am sharp, so be on time Ms. (L/N).”

You’re still slumped in your seat when the door glides shut again, your eyes wide and jaw no doubt comically unhinged.

Wait. Did…did he really just say that?

Obviously, for the next class, you’re early. You’re so early that you’re the first one in the lecture hall. You select a seat toward the back and fiddle with your computer, checking your messages, adjusting your brightness, replying to old emails, anything to keep your head down and attention occupied.

The door opens and, despite your best efforts, your head flies up, expectant and tense, ready to meet those red eyes of his head on, to show him you’re here and he better… oh. It’s not him. It’s two chattering freshmen. One of them gives you a quick smile, but they both quickly take their seats, a few rows over, and continue their soft conversation, leaving you to fall back onto your earlier distraction tactics. You twiddle with your phone and shoot off a few texts, change your wallpaper, accidentally close an app you meant to leave open, and then the lecture hall door reopens.

He steps in slowly, completely ignoring you and the other scattered students, opting to sort out a few papers and set up his login on the school computer. The minutes tick by and you can’t seem to jerk your eyes away from him, suddenly fascinated by his languid movements. He looks more relaxed than he did on Monday, looser and fluid, completely in his element. True to his word, at ten am on the dot he begins class.

Professor Shigaraki has an interesting voice. It’s low, calculated, bordering on a rasp. It’s one of those tones that makes you want to lean forward and listen up, even though he’s only discussing cellular biology. Which isn’t exactly the sexiest topic for that shockingly dulcet timbre of his.

Wait. Sexy?

Your pen falters against your notebook, and your eyes drift up to his frame. He’s switched the lights off again and the shine of the overhead projector is the only illumination in the hall. His white hair gleams in the dim lighting and his long hands animatedly illustrate his points, elegant fingers opening and closing, gesticulating about the intricate nature of the human genome. You’re so focused on watching his movements that your elbow partner has to push the slip of paper onto your collapsible desktop. You blink at the sheet, your pen nearly clattering from your hand, and you twist to peer at the unfamiliar student beside you.

“It’s the attendance sheet and, um, I think you’re the last one,” they whisper, careful to lean away after they finish their explanation, not wanting to draw professor Shigaraki’s ire. You maneuver the paper under your pen and scribble down your name, biting your lip and silently berating yourself for your poor selection in seating. Great, now you’ll have to take the paper down to him after class. What if he talks with you again? Shit.

At 11:25, class ends. You collect your things and plod down the steps, the attendance sheet clutched between your fingers. He’s just snapping the projector light off when you reach his podium.

“I, uhh, have the attendance. You want me to just leave it here, or…”

“I’ll take it,” his hand is extended toward you and those red eyes are fixed on you now. It’s not the same disgruntled stare he’d given you on Monday. No, this look is a little more curious. Again, you’re taken aback by your reaction to him. He’s not even saying anything, just patiently waiting for you to deposit the sheet into his open palm, but there’s something about him that’s making your heart race.

Maybe it’s those eyes of his.

They are an unusual color and they have a strange intensity to them. Right as they narrow, the vermillion shining under the sharp lights; you press the paper to him and he pulls it from you, studying the names that are listed.

You want to say something. Maybe toss him a quick, friendly, goodbye. Or apologize for the other day? Ugh. What can you even say? ‘Gosh, so glad I was on time today! All that fascinating information about the genetic code! So glad to be here!’ No, that sounds stupid and a little patronizing. Besides, why do you want to talk with him at all? He’s an ass, remember?

“Did you need something?”

His question snaps you out of your stupor and you numbly shake your head at him, already lowering your gaze, but his exhaled chuckle makes you pause, your fingers curling around your backpack straps.

“I know I upset you the other day, but I appreciate you taking the effort to correct your mistake.”

“Oh,” you breathe, your eyes finding their way back to his. “Yeah, well, like you said, I’m a senior. Gotta take responsibility for myself someday.”

“Ah,” he smirks, that long scar on his lip quirking upward. “Seems like you’ve got some determination after all. You might be more interesting than I gave you credit for.”

“God,” you scoff, popping out a hip and crossing your arms at the bemused leer on his face. “Just come right out and say you think I’m a bad student, why don’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” he amends, tucking the attendance sheet into his shoulder bag and snapping the clasps closed. “There’s plenty of time for you to end up right back at square one with me.”

He’s already halfway out the door by the time you right yourself from the shock of his last comment and you follow him, a string of low curses falling from your lips.

The spring semester always flies by, and before you realize it, a full month has bled away. You’ve kept that same seat in Shigaraki’s class and at the end of each session you head down to his little platform, attendance sheet outstretched. Each day of class has a different ebb and flow. Sometimes he chats with you and it’s gotten easier to talk with him, both of your eyes holding and lingering, lips raised into calculating smiles. Sometimes it almost feels like he’s flirting with you. Other days he only spares you a curt nod, his white hair curtaining his expression from your curious gaze. You’re not bothered by these silences, not when you’ve got your secret weapon.

The days that you like best, the ones that you plan, sorting through your closet until you’ve found the perfect choice, are the days when you wear one of your skirts. You’d even gone on some skirt shopping sprees as of late. On those days he doesn’t just make some sort of fleeting eye contact with you, no, on those days he stares.

At first, you’d tested out your theory, staggering your outfits, careful to not screw up your suspicions with a hasty miscalculation, but as they say, the third time’s the charm. How did he expect you not to notice? He never bothers to hide those sharp ogles and recently you’ve made a point of dramatically gathering your things when you wear these cute little ensembles, bopping down the steps so his eyes have to work to follow the line of your hips and the long paths of your bare legs. One rainy afternoon you’d worn over the knee stockings, that came to an abrupt halt over the plush skin of your upper thigh, under your mini skirt and he’d practically leapt over the podium to grab the sheet from you, his eyes hooded and dark, almost wild.

“Test, on Friday,” he warns, eyes finally rising to meet your bemused expression. “Don’t stay out too late tonight.”

“What makes you say that?” you ask, brushing at a rogue fold in your skirt, luring him back to your legs.

He scoffs at you, that jagged scar arching into a smirk. “Humph. You’re dressed up. Most of the students just wear the sweats, or pjs, and call it a day.”

“I like to put a little effort in all that I do,” you retort, grinning up at his vermillion stare.

“Yes, so I’ve noticed. You certainly look the part…and you’re keeping up with the workload of this course.”

“Ahhh,” you crow, clapping your hands excitedly. “Are you saying I might get an ‘A’ in this class? Be the first time someone’s done that in a while, from what I’ve heard around campus.”

Shigaraki sneers and tuts out an inaudible reply, leaning a little closer to you, making you inadvertently fall back a step. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Awe,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m doing ok on all the quizzes and the classwork.”

“So far,” he taunts, his pearlescent hair falling over his broad shoulder.

“Tch. Don’t be like that. I’ve been studying.”

“Sometimes it takes more than that.”

“Oh?” you smile, raising your chin. “What else should I be doing, professor?”

“We’ll know that after Friday, won’t we?”

God.

You’d felt so confident when you’d turned in your test and that stupid, horrible, sexy little quirk of his lip scar that he sends you, when you’d handed him your papers, carries you on some strange, half aroused cloud all weekend. Maybe, just maybe, this class won’t be so bad after all.

The tests are handed back the following Friday, passed from row to row so everyone can fish out their papers and marked Scantrons. Yours, since you still occupy that final seat on the back row, is the last. Biting back a grin, you flip it over, so ready to see that A, that grade that you worked so fucking hard for, that… wait.

The gross flash of red across the top of your paper leaves you reeling, your breath catching against the back of your throat. It’s not a terrible grade, well, it wouldn’t be, but there are only three tests in this class, so it’s going to plummet you down to a B. One more fuck up will leave you with a C, or worse, an automatic failing grade.

No. No, no, no, no.

You can’t afford a bad grade, you honestly can’t even let yourself slip to a B. Your fucking cap and gown have just come in and with them that cord that you can wear around your neck at graduation. The one that marks you as honors cum laude. Fuck. You’re already pulling one B, in one of your other classes, because you’ve been focusing so much time and effort on this one. Another B will strip that cord from you, leaving you barren, with a less than ideal GPA.

God fucking damn it.

You glare up at Shigaraki, who’s busy taking the rest of the class through a review of genetic mutations, but you can’t hear him anymore, too incensed, too overwhelmed to even care about what he’s saying. The test crumples under your fingertips, the paper shaking in your hands, and you seethe, your teeth biting your lower lip to pieces.

It’s not fair. You’d paid attention. You’ve taken all the notes. Read all the chapters. Drilled and studied till your eyes had drooped, heavy with exhaustion. You’ve done it all right. Plus, he’d been so fucking flirty, so open with you. You’ve never chatted with a professor this way, never gone out of your way to wear clothes they like, that make them watch you, their eyes hungry pinpricks as you walk to them, mindful of the luscious sway of your hips.

No. Fuck him. Fuck this class.

Before your elbow classmate can leave, you ask for them to hand in the attendance sheet. You barely hear their response, too busy slamming your laptop into your backpack. As you storm past the podium, you can feel his eyes on you. The distant sensation of his gaze makes your flesh prickle, but you ignore your involuntary reaction and shove your way out the door.

“(Y/N), you can’t switch classes this late. It’s almost midterms. Besides, I don’t think anything has opened up and if you’re going to drop it, you’ve gotta get the signature of the professor,” your advisor tells you, blinking at your stony expression over his thick glasses. “I don’t get it. Why do you want to drop it? Your grades are alright and it’s just one test. You can always try–”

“Gimme the paperwork.”

Shigaraki’s office is on the top floor of the research building, tucked away down another winding and weaving hallway that once again requires your careful inspection to navigate. When you finally hit the right set of doors, you slowly make your way forward, counting the numbers up as you pass. His door is wide open, a yawning cavern that’s filled with the distant light of a lamp. You brush a hand down your skirt, smoothing away any wrinkles and steadying your nerves.

You’d tossed on the skirt this morning, before you’d gotten the grade, and you hadn’t thought to go home and change, too consumed by that simmering rage bubbling within you. And now, like this fucking class, this skirt felt like a mistake, something stupid and vapid that you wished you had time to change out of. He’d told you he liked your attire, liked that you put effort into your outfits. At the time, you’d been so thrilled and excited that he’d complimented you, but now you wish you were confronting him in baggy jeans or lazy sweats, anything that would turn that avid gaze of his away from you.

Lost in thought, you waver beside his open door, nibbling on your lips and tugging at your clothes. It’s now or never. No point in putting it off. What’s the worst that can happen? What can he do now? Or, a darker side of you whispers, what do you want him to do to you? What? That’s a stupid thought, you scold yourself, lifting a hand to the wall and rapping against the beige paint, announcing your presence.

When the sound fades away, swallowed up by the empty and darkened hallway, you poke your head around the corner, searching for him. His head is tilted quizzically, and he blinks twice when he spots you, that all too familiar smirk lifting his lips.

“Ah, Ms. (L/N), what can I do for you?”

His voice is softer than usual and your name sounds like honey, his tone resting on the syllables and consonants for a beat, almost as if he’s savoring their lift, their sound. You can’t help but swallow heavily at his appraisal. Suddenly this may be a terrible idea.

Ugh. Get a grip (Y/N).

“I-I need you to sign this withdrawal paperwork,” you finally reply, digging in your bag and tugging out the thin leaflet, holding it out to him. He’s silent after your demand, meditatively threading his fingers and peering up at you, his red eyes bright.

“Step inside and shut the door behind you,” he instructs, his gaze never falling from yours. Despite the simplicity of his request, you can’t help but bristle at his imperious tone. Why does he always have to sound like that? Like he’s seconds away from taking control of the situation, or of you? He’s always one stupid step ahead, and no doubt he’s going to try and talk you down. Or, he’ll sign it and say that he always knew you were a screw up, someone who only did things halfway, who could never match up to his lofty expectations. Humph, the sooner you’re outta here and out of his class, the better. So, you obey, closing the door and petulantly flopping into the unsteady chair that sits in front of his low desk.

He maintains that uneasy quiet, his red eyes whisking over your disgruntled face, waiting, watching. Unable to take this strange standoff, you push the university paperwork toward him, sliding it as close as you dare to his bent elbows. “I would like to withdraw from your class,” you repeat, lips setting into a thin line.

“Why?” he asks, cocking his head so his loose white hair falls a little further down his rough brow.

“Something came up.”

“Hmm, I can try to work with a new schedule, if it’s your job, or home life,” he counters, eyes narrowing as he sharpens his observations of your brittle expression.

“It’s not that,” you smart, crossing your arms. Great, he’s going to make this difficult.

“Then I suggest you tell me what’s on your mind,” Shigaraki replies, mirroring your movements and leaning back in his chair.

“I don’t think this class is working out for me.”

He exhales a soft laugh at your lie, and you watch that tiny mole at the edge of his chin lift in his quiet mirth. “This is a freshman level course and you’re a senior. You’re in my class because it’s likely the last pre-rec that you need to take before you graduate.”

“Um, yeah. But–”

“And now, you’re wanting to drop it because of one poor grade.”

You grind your teeth and fix him with a stark glower. “I–”

“There will be two other tests. If you read your syllabus, you’d know this.”

“I read the syllabus. Your tests are worth a stupid amount of points and it only takes one of them to tank my grade.”

“Frankly, you did better than most of the class. You only need to work on practical application. I said that the written portion would be a major component of the exam. I also provided you with a review and a rubric. So I’m not sure–”

“Your grade drops me to a ‘B’, and that ‘B’ pulls me from the honors list. And… well… I thought that…”

“Oh? What did you think?” he presses, his voice suddenly dropping to that lower octave it had drifted into when he said your last name.

“I thought I’d get a better grade,” you spit out, turning your head and biting at your lip again.

“Why?” he counters simply. His obtuseness is making your blood boil.

“What do you mean, why?” It takes all of your will to not slip a ‘jackass’ into that question.

“It’s not a hard thing to answer. I graded you fairly and according to my rubric. Why exactly do you feel you merit a different grade than the one you earned?”

You fall into a frustrated silence. You can hear your heart pounding against your ribs and you want to scream at him, to leap over his desk and shake him until his teeth fucking rattle. Your shoulders are rising and lowering disjointedly and his vermillion eyes are honed in on your face, shifting over your pinched expression with a distant interest. You can feel tears pricking at your eyes and you hastily rub a fist over them, brushing away any rogue drops of moisture.

“How can you ask me that? You think I didn’t notice you staring at my legs? Or that you always had something to say to me when I was wearing a skirt? What was I supposed to think, huh? I fucking thought shit like that was gonna help, ok? God, I’m so stupid. I can’t… fuck.”

Shigaraki arches forward when you finish, a deep sigh leaching through his parted lips. His teeth snap together when you look up at him, your eyes gaining back some of that earlier defiance, and he gives you a quick grin, clearly pleased by your shift in attitude and pushes your paper aside, fixing you with a dark look. “Here’s a thought, since you feel you’re so different, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a chance to make up the score.”

“I don’t care about the score anymore. I wanna drop your class,” you snap, but it’s a halfhearted barb. Something has changed in his demeanor. He’s dropped the concerned professor act and is leaning so close you can hear his steady intakes of air. He’s only a few inches away; if you want, you could touch him.

“I doubt you want to attend a class in the summer. Besides, they won’t let you walk if you haven’t finished your freshman level courses. And you can’t tell me you don’t want to graduate, to earn that cord that lets you into the honor cum laude. So stop pouting and hear me out. I think you’ll like what I have in mind.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever like anything about you,” your voice is sharper than you mean it to be, but the challenge makes Shigaraki smile. As it crosses his cracked lips, it pulls that scar up and it makes those eyes of his glow. He looks like the cat that’s got the cream and you’re not sure how to respond, so you cross your legs and wait for him to make the next move.

“You sure about that? Well, I’ll have to change your tune then, won’t I? But that can wait, lemme tell you what my requirements are. I’ve got a copy of the textbook in here. I’ll have you review some of the major concepts, you’ll read the passages aloud so I’m sure you’re on the right track, you’ll hand the book back to me, and then I’ll verbally quiz you over the material. If you answer them correctly, I’ll bump you to an ‘A’ on your test.”

You have to actively work to keep your mouth closed. “So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And… answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Your eyes boggle and you have to clench your thighs tighter, your stomach churning, you feel light-headed and you can feel your core fluttering with your sudden arousal. “Wh-what did you just say?”

“Stop gaping at me like that, you’ll make me blush. Now come on.”

Your jaw snaps closed and you shake your head, trying to clear your mind from your whirling emotions. He takes this reaction as a surrender and stands, stepping toward a marred table that rests a little ways away from his desk. He licks his thumb pad and flips through a few pages before finally settling on an appealing section. Once he places it on the table, he twists back to you and crooks a finger your way. “Come here,” he orders, his voice deep and languid. Obediently, you rise on unsteady feet, hands tugging at the length of your skirt, careful to keep it pressed down as you walk toward him.

He makes space for you to stand in front of the book and shifts back, one hand resting on the table, propping him close to your bent figure. You look up at him, but he only nods his head toward the table, a wicked smile curling the corners of his lips. Blink a few times but finally, the words clear and you can see the block of text that’s in front of you. It’s passages on DNA encodes and RNA proteins, hefty stuff, things that you had to make flash cards for. This isn’t going to be easy. If anything, he’s picked some of the harder concepts, the ones that take steady knowledge in the foundations. Flustered, you look back to him, but he’s moved. He’s leaning against the wide window beside the table, a dark mark against the glass.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a laugh bubbling in his tone.

“There’s no way…” you stammer, shaking your head at him.

“Want me to throw a curve in?”

“I should ask what kinda curve, but knowing you, it’s likely gonna be something terrible.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he rumbles, stepping away from the window and leaning close to your stiff form. “It just takes an open mind and some enthusiasm on your part.”

“Enthusiasm?” you question, trying your best to withstand his closeness. You can feel the heat radiating off of his broad shoulder and if you tilt a little nearer, you could graze against him, or feel his breath on your skin.

“You’re right,” he amends, his forearm contacting your side. You startle at the touch, a gasp falling from your lips, but you don’t pull away and you can’t stop staring up at him, your eyes wide. “Obedience is a better word. From here on out, whatever I tell you to do, I expect you to obey it, although it’s not exactly, ah, school approved.”

“You want me to suck you off or something?” you sneer, hoping to stumble him off his guard, even if it’s only for an instant. Too bad he’s always one step ahead.

“Don’t be vulgar. Think outside of the box, (Y/N). Do you think I’m going to go for something so short sighted when I could have you bending to my will? Obeying every little demand that I make? I’d much rather see if that skin of yours tastes as good as it looks, then simply have you on your knees. No, I want you to fucking scream for me while I stuff you full of my cock. But first, you need to put in some work. You should know that by now.”

Oxygen is suddenly very hard to come by and you can feel your mind hazing over as you stammer up at him, your mind flitting from word to word disjointedly. Shigaraki grants you a wolfish grin, and he dips his lips beside your ear, whispering over those tiny hairs that rest against your tender skin. “I’ll make this part easy. Nod and I’ll give you the first set of instructions.”

What did he say? Nod? What happens when you nod? Fuck, why are you letting him do this? Is your grade really worth it? Are you that desperate that… that…

Shigaraki is whispering other promises over you as you war with yourself, speaking his words gently, slowly, his breath hot as it fans over your neck. It’s like you’ve fallen under some kinda spell and before you realize it, your traitorous head is bobbing up and down, letting him know you want him to keep going.

“Perfect,” he sighs, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear, jerking a shiver from you. “Now, lean forward and put your hands against the table.”

You do as he says, but he’s not satisfied with your positioning, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and yanking you forward, jutting your ass out and pressing your chest down, maneuvering you until your nose is right above the pages of the textbook. “There we go,” he rasps, pulling away so he can admire your splayed form. “Hmm, your legs are too close together. Spread them.” Knees trembling, you obey, gasping when he runs a palm against the curve of your thighs.

“You’ve got such nice legs (Y/N), so let’s put them on display, shall we?” His fingers search against the top of your skirt and they still when he reaches his prize: the zipper. When he pulls it down, you let out a sharp squeak of protestation but he silences you with a swift pinch to your side.

“Now, now, don’t be like that. You nodded, remember? Besides, you could have left when I told you I’d give you a curve but you couldn’t help yourself could you? You want me to keep going and to do that, I need you to take this skirt off. No, don’t move. I’ll get rid of it for you. Why don’t you focus on the task at hand, hmm? Aren’t you supposed to be reading for me?”

You arch away from his fingers and he chuckles at your impudence, one large hand hooking under your chin and pulling you toward his face. His red eyes blaze as they find yours, the dark pupils threatening to swallow up that deep vermillion. “Let’s start with the second paragraph. If you do well, I might grant you a reprieve.”

Jerking your face from his grip, you twist back to the text, trying, and failing, to ignore his inquisitive fingers, unable to resist sighing as he works one up your inner thigh. He pauses when no words fall from your lips and you grumble out a few low curses before acquiescing to his silent demand.

“The flow of genetic information in cells from DNA to mRNA to protein is described by the Central Dogma, which states that genes specify the sequence of mRNAs, which specify the sequence of proteins. The decoding of one molecule… the… the… molecule… by spec-specific…”

He’s slipped your skirt down over the swell of your ass, but he’s taking his time, flexing out the front of the material and dipping his fingers over the bump of your lower stomach, kneading into the delicate flesh that’s stretched out for him. You can’t help the twitch of your spine and you involuntarily wiggle, palms slipping forward, dragging you further along the tabletop. Shigaraki chuckles above you, running his rough lips over the back of your neck.

“You’re so sensitive. I’ve barely touched you.”

He circles his hands back to your skirt and edges it along, lowering it sharply on one side and then giving the same treatment to the other. You’re doing your best to keep up with your stammering readings, but it’s difficult when he keeps sighing and running his long nails across your newly bared skin. Finally, he works the skirt down and it thumps against your bare ankles; the fabric tickling your skin.

Meanwhile, his other fingers skitter against the elastic band of your rapidly dampening panties. Once he hooks the lace under his hand, he yanks them along your legs, trailing them sinfully slowly, ensuring that they glide down the billow of your thighs. His teeth nip at your ear when you stumble to a halt in your recitation and your hands tense over the grains of wood beneath them, your nails pinching into your palms. “If you stop, I stop,” he warns, his head bumping against yours, his sharp nose pressing against your pulse.

“You’re not exactly making this easy,” you grumble, doing your best to ignore his renewed pets and strokes.

“Stop complaining,” he smirks, leaning away from your head to peer at your newly exposed flesh. “You better pay attention to what you’re reading or you’re not going to pass the questions I’ll be asking you.”

“Yeah, yeah, ow!” you squawk, whipping your head around to glare up at him. He fucking pinched you again! This time, he’d slipped his hand between your spread legs and tweaked your inner thigh, painfully.

“Read,” he repeats, running those guilty fingers upward, lingering beside the heat of your cunt, careful to not get too close. When you start on the next sentence, one of his hands tugs up the fabric of your shirt, snaking upward until he’s thumbing against the wire of your bra. Once again, you falter to a halt and exhale a wavering breath.

Goddamn it. This review is no review. You’ll be lucky if you can even recall what a cell is if he keeps this up. You hear his ominous intake of air and quickly resume your recitation, mumbling something about RNA and mRNA differences.

Wait. Didn’t you just…

“Looks like you’re having trouble listening to me. I told you to read aloud, not to repeat the same passages over and over.”

“Hey, at least I’ll have a firm grasp on those. You should ask me something about that s-section… ah–”

The hand that was resting under the cup of your bra has made its way underneath the lightly padded material, and his thumb and index fingers have trapped your peaked nipple between them. As soon as your snarky comment left your mouth, he’d twisted the bud, squeezing it until it throbbed.

“Pay attention,” he commands, shoving your bra upward, freeing the globes of your breasts and cupping both of his broad hands under them. Your abused nipple stings and the mixture of sharp pain and jarring arousal goes right through you, stoking that coil that pulsed within your core, and sending a tacky flush of your essence down your spread thighs.

The next few words are a struggle. The text keeps blurring and your breaths are coming in fast and heavy. Shigaraki is still feeling you up, keeping his lips close to your ears, rasping sharp commands to you and dealing out lightning fast rounds of pinches and squeezes each time you falter.

“I–I can’t… I don’t even know what I’m reading anymore,” you bemoan, your hips pressing against the edge of the table, legs trembling as you attempt to keep them apart. He’s deliberately ignoring your throbbing clit and a desperate edge is creeping into your voice.

“Are you always this whiny? Fine. I’ll give you a moment to read without any distractions.”

Thank God.

True to his word, he slips away from your back and you’re left shivering against his sudden absence. Despite your quaking, you’re determined to make the most of this chance and you quickly read out the paragraphs that are on the second page. As you ramble down to the last bit of text, you realize you can’t hear him anymore and when you finish the last sentence; you start to really wonder where he’s drifted off to. A tense silence follows your completion of the material and you arch up on the tips of your toes, jutting your ass out and stretching the stiffened muscles of your lower back.

“Didn’t say you could stop reading, and judging from all of your complaints, I don’t think you got some of those earlier concepts, so I’d suggest doing a quick review,” he taunts, the sudden rasp of his voice startling a low gasp from your lips.

He’s close; somewhere behind you and to the left from the sound of it. You try to twist around, your chest lifting from the table, and when he notices, his hands return, creating a rough pressure against your neck as he forces your body back down. His weight plasters you to the surface, scraping your partially exposed stomach and tender breasts over the nicked wood. Shigaraki is merciless in his swift correction, his breath puffing out angrily behind you. “Didn’t say you could move, either.”

Stunned, you freeze. Your arms are arched awkwardly, but he keeps his weight against you, flattening your breasts and forcing your back to arch into an awkward bend. Fuck, you think, how are you supposed to stay like this? Your legs are already aching and if he shifts away again, he’s likely going to expect you to maintain this absurd pose.

“Yes,” he groans, his voice catching against the word, “Good girl. Now, stay just like that.”

Damn it.

“Go on, read the first part again,” he instructs.

“The entire genetic content of a cell is known as its genome and the study of genomes is gen-genomics. In eukaryotic cells, but… but not in p-prokaryotes, DNA forms a complex with histone proteins… with histone proteins… sub-substance… of…”

His teeth have latched onto your neck, and he’s sucking bruises into your tender skin. He’s still pinning you to the table, but his hands are widening their explorations. He’s started dragging a fingernail across the puffy folds of your cunt, teasing against the dripping and swollen flesh, chuckling when you buck against his hold.

“You always seem to lose it when you get to cellular modulations.”

“I–I–It’s not… I can’t help that you keep…” you whimper, your fingers curling under your palms, head shaking back and forth. You can’t think. He’s not being fucking fair, and you can’t even string your goddamn words together. Shit. “Y-you’re not being fair,” you accuse, falling on the only thing that keeps running through your mind, your splayed feet shifting uncomfortably under you.

“Not fair? Not once did I say fairness would come into this arrangement,” he lifts himself off of your back and leans beside you, one arm planted beside your crooked elbow. His fingers trace over the curve of your ass, cupping at the thickest part of you and squeezing.

“But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get a little satisfaction out of this arrangement. I bet you look good when you cum. And you’ve been working so hard to get my attention these last few months. So careful to do what I tell you. Looking at me with those big eyes of yours, all wide eyed every time I catch you looking at me. And don’t even get me started on your lips. You’re lucky I didn’t fucking bend you over after class, especially when you started wearing all of those cute little skirts for me. Ahhh, don’t moan like that, I won’t be able to help myself if you do. Let’s see how you’re doing, shall we?”

Without warning, he slips his longest digit into your cunt, groaning loudly when he’s sucked into your welcoming heat. Your pussy, hungry for any kind of scrap, ripples around his intrusion, clamping and pulling, desperate for more.

“Fuck,” he groans, his weight falling against your shoulder. “You’re soaking.” His elegant digit pushes deeper and you roll your hips under him, urging him closer, sighing when he sinks to the last knuckle. As he pulls his finger back, he adds another, swiftly v-ing the two before curving them together as they slip back out, dragging a steady line of pleasure from your quivering cunt. Shigaraki whispers another round of awed praise against your ear, his voice dark and breathless.

A third digit is added on another trip out, and it creates a ragged sensation within you. It’s close to what you like, but he’s stretching you too far and it’s starting to hurt. He either needs to speed up, or give you a little more pressure. If you can hump your clit against the edge of the table, maybe it’ll give you the friction that you need. When you mindlessly buck your hips, your thighs threatening to lose that spread, he stops, holding his fingers inside you, laughing as you agitatedly try to shift him back into his earlier rhythm.

“So eager. I’d say you’re ready for my questions.”

“W-what?” you gasp, wholly focused on making him restart the push and pull of his fingers inside you.

“I’ll start you off with something easy. What’s the cell membrane?”

“W-what? The cell… ah–”

“Answer me. Now,” he grunts, leaning forward, re-steadying you as his fingers pull outward, dragging against your sensitive folds and schlicking through your arousal lewdly, loudly. You moan and your eyes roll back, completely ignoring his demand as you fall into the haze of pleasure that comes after his movements.

His free hand travels up your neck and he tangles his fingers into the tendrils of your hair, yanking and jerking at the strands, demanding your attention.

“I said, answer me.”

“Shigaraki–I–fuck. I can’t even… ugh… think right now!”

“Do you want the grade, or not?” he questions, his voice tense. “Answer correctly and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I–I don’t think I can,” you whine, pressing your hips back as he thrusts his fingers forward again, curving them upward, searching for the spongy pad of nerves that rest against the front of your pelvis.

“Oh? What happened to wanting that A? What about your graduation? You gonna let me fuck up your entire college career? I can do it, you know. I’ve done it to so many simpering freshmen. I fail kids left and right and you’re no different, (Y/N).

The university lets me ahh–there it is! God, you’re so fucking wet.

Where was I? The university can’t say no to me; they let me do what I want. I bring in too much money, too many tempting grants, and that’s all they really care about. So what’s it gonna be? Let me see that you can answer this basic crap and I’ll pass you. Or would you like for me to tie you down and force it outta you another way?”

He’s picked up the pace of his fingers as he rambles over you and a swift press against that newly discovered spot inside you has you falling to pieces in his hands, popping up onto your tiptoes and rutting yourself against the surface of the table. “O-ok, God, ok! Just–fucking repeat the goddamn question,” you pant, head slumping forward, forcing his fingers to tighten against your hair to hold you upright.

“What is the cell membrane?”

You wince your eyes closed, trying to rack your brain to focus on something other than the heavy pressure of the three fingers that are teasing their way across your dribbling pussy. He’s moving his presses with a lackadaisical, inconsistent rhythm now and it’s hard to fucking think. You can’t tell if his next thrust will be hard, or soft, or so rough that it’s bordering on that bittersweet line of pain.

You shake your head, doing your best to ignore the mounting pressure that he’s building inside you and the ache of your neck and legs. Finally, after another sharp tap against that secret bunch of nerves at the front of your cunt, you latch onto a vague remembrance.

“It… it’s a double layer of–of phospholipids that make a boundary between the cell and t-the surrounding… ugh… it controls the passage of materials.”

“Very good. Elaborate on the cellular wall.”

He’s unrelenting in his domineering treatment, twisting and frigging his fingers each time your breath hitches, and your arousal is leaking down your legs, making your skin stick and pull. It’s too much, you can’t! How can he even ask this? Words are falling from your lips incoherently, and all too soon you’re gasping out his name rather than reciting the answer.

“Cellular–oh, fuck, Shi–Shigaraki–Please, keep–don’t stop! S-Shigaraki, God that… feels… ah–keep going!”

He ignores your request and pulls his fingers away, robbing you of that sweet pressure that he’s so carefully mounted within you.

“I’ll count that one as incorrect. Your ‘A’ is swiftly becoming an ‘A’ minus, (Y/N)” he snarls, his teeth gritted, hands falling to the swell of your hips, wet fingers digging into your soft skin.

“What? No! You didn’t give me enough… e-enough time! How can–can you expect me to answer that qui-quickly!”

“Let’s try another.”

It hurts. That ache that he’s drawn out of you is starting to sting and throb and he’s being such a dick about it! You twist and grind under him, and he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“I don’t–” you protest weakly, your legs trembling and chest heaving under his weight.

“Do you want this? Wouldn’t you like to pass this class? To graduate with honors?” he growls, leaning closer, his hands braced against you, his fingers no doubt leaving bruises on the supple crest of your hips.

“You’re such an ass! Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then answer another question. What’s diffusion?”

“D-diffu-diffusion is the process by which molecules move from an a-area of… of… fuck- of high concentration, to low concentration. Shigaraki!”

“I should count that as another miss, but you got the major concept correct.” He removes his fingers from your waist and yanks your ass toward him, keeping your overeager hips away from the fleeting relief of the sturdy table. “Pop your legs together,” he commands, one hand wrapping around your arched throat, squeezing until you obey. His other hand drops to that thatch of curls that rest between your quivering thighs and he gathers up your gossamer strands, rubbing against your clit for one hazy instant, sending a flash of spots across your vision.

“Mmm, now that’s a pretty sight. Good girl, don’t move,” he reminds you and you want to scream at him. Right before you can spit some frustrated vitriol out, he’s releasing your neck, his hands dropping from your skin and letting you fall back to the uneven surface below. Just before your chin contacts the wood, his hand is back in your hair, tugging you upward, holding you a few inches above the table. The sharp pain makes your scalp tingle and you unconsciously rut against the tempting heat that’s now plastered to your ass. He’s hard. You can feel the stiff bulge of his cock straining against the front of his dark jeans, pressing into the cleft of your posterior.

“T-that’ can’t be comfortable,” you pant, twisting your head so you can look up at him from the curve of your shoulder.

“Oh? You worried about my cock?” he asks, his red eyes flashing down at you challengingly. You don’t bother giving him a verbal response, opting instead to grind your ass up, catching against the jut of his length, earning yourself a low groan. His lips curl when you repeat the motion and you realize you love watching that smug face of his drift into a look of tense pleasure. It makes his scar on his lip flush and those red eyes of his fall to a lazy half mast. He spies your arched brow and pleased grin and pushes himself off of you, leaving you alone and open on the table.

“Keep pushing your luck. I’m more than happy to drop you back to a B.”

“What?” you scoff, teeth clinking together as you clench your jaw. “I didn’t move!”

“No, but you’re trying to take control of this and we can’t have that can we?” Shigaraki sneers. “Now, how shall I punish you?”

“P-punish me?” you stammer, a chill racing down your spine.

“Ah, I know. This’ll really piss you off,” he twists from your strained gaze and walks back toward his desk. What? What the fuck does he mean? You can’t see him from this angle, not with the way your legs are stretched and back is lowered, but it doesn’t stop you from trying, your chin lifting upwards as you do your best to keep him in focus.

Ugh. It’s no use. He’s slipped past your field of vision.

Hearing is likely your best bet, so you shift your forehead back to the table and listen, straining your ears to pick up any morsel. Something opens and closes and you catch the sound of the wheels of his chair as they shift, squeaking across the floor, and the groaning of the springs when his weight is applied to the cheap leather.

Okay, so he’s in his chair. Is he just gonna look at you? That’s not… wait…

There’s a faint clicking sound.

It’s both familiar and unfamiliar to your ears, but once the teeth slide over the last pull, you realize. It’s a zipper.

Oh fuck. Is he going to jerk himself off? With a gasp, your head whips back around. He’s still positioned himself away from you, and you can only just make out the sounds that are accompanying the undoubted rise and fall of his fist. All you can see is a tiny sliver of his body, but you catch sight of the coiling muscles on his neck and you notice that his head is dipped forward, pearl white hair settling across the cut of his collarbone. The one red eye that meets yours is blazing and hungry, it makes every hair on the back of your neck stand up.

God, he’s staring at you, watching you, getting himself off as you’re half naked and bent over a desk in his office, fully subjugating yourself to his whims and fancies for the sake of your grade.

Damn it, (Y/N). This should not be a fucking turn on. You should be disgusted, but the flush of slick that drips down your thigh says otherwise.

He lets out a choked moan, picking up the pace of his hand, letting you hear the click and slip of his palm as it strokes up and down his cock. A shiver echoes up your spine and your hips seem to have a mind of their own, grinding your clenched thighs over the dip of the table, easing the clenching pulsations that your cunt is shuddering through you.

“Look at you, so desperate for my touch that you’re humping the fucking table. Such a dirty girl, and so disobedient. You’ve only answered a few of my questions correctly and yet your slutty little mouth and body keep pushing at me. Making me put you in your place. Let me ask you something, why should I go out of my way to fix your grade when you can’t even prove to me you understand the simplest concepts?

Ah, here’s a thought. What if I told you I’ll wave the other requirements; no more readings, no more quizzes, but I won’t let you cum? What if I just get myself off? You’re putting on a such a good show for me! Why should I bother with seeing that you’re satisfied when that table seems to do the job for you? Sound good? Or would you like for me to come back over there and make you cum?”

“I–I don’t… I don’t want…” You can’t get the words out, your tongue feels leaden between your lips and you can’t think of anything but the steady itch that’s spreading from your clit.

“Speak up,” Shigaraki demands, slowing his jerking fingers. The chair he’s sitting in groans as he leans forward, and his eyes wide as they take in the delicious sight that’s propped before him. “You don’t want to cum? Is that it? You’d like for me to get myself off and leave you there?”

“No!” you cry out, your fingers digging into the scuffed wood of the table. “I-I want you to make me cum.”

There’s a sharp clatter and you jump at the abrupt noise. It must be the chair you think, your heart pounding against your chest, waiting for Shigaraki’s next move. He only lets a few seconds drift by before he presses himself back to you. He leans his broad chest over your back, the front of his legs pushing against the back of yours. His exposed length is wedged firmly against the cleft of your ass and its tempting hardness makes you squirm under him, but he’s propelling you forward, pinning you against the rough wood, and you can only flail uselessly under his control. His lips skim over your neck and he bites into your skin, sucking and licking bruises as he inches closer to your pulse.

You say his name pitifully, wantonly, and he lets out a shaky gasp. Something about your tone has shifted something within him and you can feel his cock swelling, dripping a rope of wet pre-cum down your shaking leg.

He leans away, removing his sticky hardness from your ass. “Seems your priorities have shifted. You’re a little preoccupied right now, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice gravel scraping against your overwhelmed senses. You let out a weak moan and he snaps into action, his fingers pushing under your flattened stomach and tugging against the fabric that he finds. He yanks you upward, pulling your shirt up as he goes. His palms dip under your half lifted bra, and he cups at your breasts, massaging the rounded bulbs and plucking at your peaked nipples. Your head lolls back, and he sucks at your earlobe again, his breath warm and rasping as it passes by.

“Hold still,” he commands.

It’s not an easy position, this stretched upward arch that he’s forced you into, but it’s worth it when you feel his cock pushing between your tensed legs. He doesn’t thrust into you, opting to run his weeping tip against your slippery folds, pressing until his bulbous head is twitching against your pulsing clit.

Goddamn it, you think as he stills, his lips smacking open-mouthed kisses over your shoulder, it’s not enough. You wiggle your hips back and forth and he abruptly exerts a firm pressure against your windpipe, leaving you sputtering and gasping. “What’s wrong? Not happy with this? Do you think you deserve something more? Do you think you’ve earned that?” He shoves you back against the surface of the table, his broad chest following the plane of your back, trapping you under his heavy form.

You’d replied, you know you must have, but you can’t hear yourself anymore, your attention attuned to the warm length that’s pressed against your shuddering folds. You’d likely thrown in a please for good measure because Shigaraki rewards you with a quick peck to your shivering neck and his thumb, swirling it around your clit, creating a cresting ache that leaves you mumbling incoherently, a thin line of drool slipping from your parted lips. As he keeps that faint osculation up, your fingernails scrape over the wood of the table, your feet lifting you onto your toes, curving your back, and shoving your leaking pussy into his open palm.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” Shigaraki says, a breathy desperation lingering around the edges of his rasping voice. “But it’s just not enough, right?”

You nod, licking up some of the excess saliva that’s built under your heavy tongue and crane your head back at him. His eyes are the first thing you see. They’re wild, ravenous and glinting with a roughness that makes you whisper out a soft whine. Fuck. It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to want him this badly. Goddamn it. Now that he’s caught your gaze, he won’t let you look away, and he presses himself closer, his cock twitching and warm, the tip rubbing back and forth, keeping time with his circling thumb.

“You gonna fuck me, or not?” you finally ask, unsticking your lips and smirking up at his hardened face.

“Tch. Don’t rush me,” he grumbles, removing his hand and teasing cock from your cunt, watching as your body convulses under him, your pussy quivering against the excess stimulation that he’s wrought over you. Your thighs burn, aching to break free from his control, to rub against that throb, that tingling that keeps shuddering outward.

“One more question,” he tells you, lifting his dripping thumb to his lips and sucking off the traces of your arousal. The sight of him licking his pink tongue over his gleaming knuckles almost makes you lose your balance, your arms shaking precariously under you.

“A-another? Come on,” you pout, your eyes following the curve of his wicked lips, watching as his scar quirks upward, amused by your useless defiance.

“Make you a deal, answer it correctly and I’ll give you my cock. Sound fair?”

“Ugh, whatever, just hurry up,” you snap, so impatient and turned on that you can hardly think.

The tip of his cock presses against your sopping entrance, pushing forward just enough to part your dripping folds but stopping before he clears that first, tight ring of flesh. The promise of his dribbling tip makes you lose any semblance of self-control. You thrash under him, but he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“No! Don’t stop! Come on Sh-Shigaraki–Don’t be such a fucking–ah–”

“Do you want this? Do you want my cock?” he growls, leaning over you, his fingers squeezing down, no doubt leaving bruises in the supple crest of your hips.

“Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then you better answer. What are cytosines?”

“They… they’re n-nitrogenous base… fuck… base that pair… that pair with guanine during D-DNA replication… I–please, please, Shigaraki! Fuck me! I want your cock! Fuck me, fuck me!”

Thankfully, he either takes pity on you, or can’t control himself anymore, his hips surging forward, gliding his thick length into your cunt and snarling at the mind numbing heat that waits for him. He keeps driving upward until he bottoms out, sharp hipbones grinding against the plushness of your ass.

He’s not gentle with you, no he’s animalistic and raw, his thrusts papping into you with a terrifying strength. You would have liked something slower, something that lets you enjoy each imperfection and dip that raced along his cock, but this, oh, this is an exception because this is perfect. It’s not what you want, but it is what you need.

The heavy fullness that he’s stuffing you with leaves you breathless, but you somehow manage to gasp out a string of nonsensical praises each time he drives back into you, overwrought by his roughness.

This coupling isn’t kind, isn’t right, and is not healthy, for either of you. No, not with the way he’s using your shivering body, distracted with slacking that euphoric thrum that’s making his cock pulse and swell inside you.

But fuck it feels good and you can’t help but tremble with delight. These intoxicating thrusts of his ram him up against something that’s buried deep inside you, and each time he hits it another star of bright pleasure races through you. The familiar coiling of release is steadily mounting with each rapid fire rut he gives you and if he could just, ah, there’s something that’s… no, fuck, it’s, it’s not going to work. It feels good, but it’s missing one vital ingredient, one thing that he’s neglected to pay attention to, to notice.

Your clit needs to be tweaked and rolled, and right now it’s pulsing away against the table, beating a sad tattoo into the grainy wood. Oh well, you think, head fuzzy, lost in the euphoria of his powerful cants, grinding your ass into his hips as he digs into another teeth chattering thrust. He’ll likely finish soon, and you’ll probably need to get yourself off later. It’s not something new, and it’s not like he’s going to care enough to focus on that, on you. This whole thing has been about control, so there’s likely no room for your own pleasure.

“What’s wrong,” he gasps out, his fingers lifting from your hips to curl beside your turned head.

“What? N-nothing–I–” you pant, eyes rolling back as he hits that spongy patch of nerves again.

“Tch. Hold on,” he interrupts, his voice rasping and breathy. He pulls himself out of you with a grunt and yanks you upward, hauling you onto the tabletop and flipping you on your back, bending your stiffened legs and bracing your knees against his lean forearms.

He holds you apart, spreading you open with his powerful hands. You can see him properly now, and the sight makes your breath catch against the back of your throat. Fuck, he looks good.

His long white hair is draped across his bare shoulders and his eyes are blazing pits of hunger, devouring the sight of you with those red irises. His jaw is clenched, and he glares down at you from his imperious height, his nostrils flaring as he drags in a quick intake of air. To your shock, he gives you a little time to acclimate to this new position, opting to languidly step forward, letting his slippery cock head press and tease at the dip of your opening. But right when you think he’ll move again, he stops, his eyes roving over the lines of your face.

His sudden stillness makes you peer quizzically up at him and you scoot closer, your feet lifting from the table. The movement snaps him out of his stupor and he grabs your ankles, roughly pinning you back down.

“Keep still,” he snarls through clenched teeth, that scar of his lifting.

You nod mutely and he rewards your unquestioning obedience with another powerful thrust, sinking his swollen cock back into your waiting cunt. He lets out a sharp groan and grabs at your hips, jerking you forward, already drifting back into that all-consuming rhythm he’d started earlier. His ruts are a little slower from this angle but, in no time at all, that familiar ache pools in your core, stoking and building at an alarming rate. The driving force of his hips soon has you blinking back spots and distant stars, and this time he adds the all important pressure of his thumb, circling the finger pad over your clit and dragging a broken moan from your quivering lips.

“So that’s what you needed. You close?” he grits out, his lips set in a curled scowl. He’s lost some of that early control, his hips stuttering as they connect with yours, his power lessening, cooling, as he looks for your release.

“I–I think–oh fuck, do that again. Yes! Just–ah!”

He angles your hips upward and gives your clit another quick oscillation, pressing down until you’re gasping. “There you go. That felt good. You’re getting tighter,” he laughs, looming over you, shoving your heaving chest downward as he jerks your hips into him, forcing your body to do most of the motion, making your shoulder blades scrape across the uneven wood. “Cum for me. Fucking cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum and I’ll give you your A, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

Your spine arches as you break around him, your cunt greedily pulling him deeper, slipping him past the barrier of your tender cervix and earning you a weak shout of praise from Shigaraki. Seconds later, he’s pulsing and twitching against your walls, the warm pooling of his cum filling you up and spilling down your spread thighs.

His head drops to your shoulder and the rough skin of his forehead sticks to your sweat dampened flesh. For a long moment you’re both still, each of you struggling to catch your breath, luxuriating in the tingling sensation of release.

“I fucking hate you, you know,” you gasp out, your arms circling his back, fingertips etching vague patterns over his neck and shoulders.

“Ha,” he snorts, “I’ll have to remember that. Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll pay you back for that little remark next time.”

“Oh? Next time?” you chuckle, moaning as he twists out of your hold and pulls his softening length out of you.

“I’ll fail you on every assignment if you try to keep away,” he threatens, his eyes falling to the gaping mess that he’s left behind. You cross your legs, denying him the satisfaction of leering at your dripping pussy.

“Fine. But next time, fuck me on something softer than a damn table.”

tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @libiraki <--- i’m coming for you. you’re gonna have to read for this, lady. so, uh, i’m officially noneconing you here.

notes: you made it! this thing is a monster & i’m so sorry i can never stfu

#shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #reader insert #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #bnha smut #9 to 5 collab #bnha degeneracy server #collaboration #tw: unhealthy relationship #tw: teacher/student #tw: dubcon #tw: bribery

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