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chaoticharrington · 5 months

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Chapter One: Professor Harrington and Mr. Munson

***THERE WILL BE LOTS SMUT 18+ CONTENT EVENTUALLY SO MINORS THIS IS NOT A SPACE FOR YOU, MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED,IF YOU DONT HAVE AN AGE IN YOUR BIO I WILL LIKELY ASSUME YOU'RE A MINOR AND BLOCK. DM FOR ANY QUESTIONS THANKS!<3***

Pairing: Professor! Steve Harrington x Best Friends Dad! Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not much...YET.. lots of smutty smutt smutt to come. Vague mention of depression/ bad childhood/anxiety , mention of drug use/ cigarette smoking, Eddie and Steve being hot, Reader is in their mid 20s and Eddie and Steve are early to mid 40s

Summary: Reader moves to the one and only Hawkins, Indiana and meets her sexy new sociology professor and realizes she might have a crush on her best friends dad..oops

Authors Note: Hi folks!!! this is so nerve wracking i've never really properly written for either of these characters before except in my head and reading lots and lots of smut! I really hope you guys like it, i'm really excited for what's to come for this series, I haven't thought of a name for it yet so i'm just going to go chapter by chapter but its gonna be a fucking wild ride so buckle your seat belts :) 4k words (Also older Eddie pic by the lovely @eddiemunsons-missingnipple )

**Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five**

(banners and headers by @cafekitsune)

Were you doing the right thing? Could you do this on your own? What if you failed?

Your head filled with doubt now that your dreams you’ve had since you graduated high school were now coming to fruition. You saved up all the money you could, working odd jobs for a few years after high school to have enough money to get out of your hometown and into a good college states away.

You shake away all the negative thoughts, no. This had to work you were going to make sure it worked. This is your new start, to create your own life. It had to be better than back home, where no one gave a shit about you and your own parents didn’t care enough to stick around after you graduated high school, not that they were the most involved parents to begin with anyways. Even the friends you had back home were just party related or friends of friends, you were always on the outside looking in, never properly fitting anywhere. The only reason you decided to move specifically to Hawkins was because your only real friend, Violet, that you’ve had since you were 12 had moved here 10 years ago and you’d made a pact long ago that if you ever got out of that town, you’d follow her here.

You pinch your fingers to the bridge of your nose, willing the thought of your parents and back home to go back into the little dark corner of your brain. You can’t breakdown now, not right before your first class, how pathetic would that be?

“Focus focus focus, come on you got this.” you muttered quietly to yourself over and over until the anxiety subsided. You take a deep breath, willing your lungs to fill with air to cool down your buzzing insides. You look in your car mirror to make sure your makeup still looked good and fidgeted with your clothes.

You were never one to obsess over your appearance by any means, but you really wanted to make a good first impression. You had your hair pulled up into a butterfly clip and had on your favorite dress a pair of black tights and your trusty Dr. Martens. With one final look in the mirror, you sigh and grab your bookbag and get out of your car. You look on your phone to triple check that you were in the right place, the last thing you needed was to be lost or even worse late to your first class.

You’d only moved into your apartment off campus the day before so you haven’t had time to look around the town or get used to your surroundings yet. You noted that your car didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. Your car was a few years old and was always something of an insecurity for you. But most of the cars that filled the almost completely full parking lot were older or used cars, which put you at ease. You head into the Humanities and Social Sciences building and check for a fourth time, Sociology 101 room E142 Professor Harrington.

The room is much bigger than you thought, chairs and desks circling the podium at the front of the room. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the room was only half full of other stressed out looking students preparing for their day ahead. You decide to pick a seat towards the middle of the room to not look too eager.

As you’re getting your laptop and books out of your bookbag you hear footsteps walking into the room and the girls behind you immediately start giggling and whispering to each other. You look to see where they’re looking hoping they aren’t making fun of you, you see them biting their lips and looking at the front of the class. You follow their eyeline and your breath hitches.

Where your sociology professor should be standing is an Adonis, he has thick honey brown hair, peppered with grey, that frame his handsome face. His skin impossibly sun kissed like he’d just come back from a tropical island and not living in Hawkins, Indiana. He smiles nervously at the class; his smile is warmer than the sun despite his nervousness, warming you from the inside out. He’s wearing a white button down covered by a navy blue sweater, a pair of grey slacks and black high top converse.

“Ahoy folks! Are you guys ready to set sail on this vast ocean called Sociology with me? I’ll be your Captain Professor Harrington!” he claps his hands, his eyes waiting and hoping for a response.

The girls behind you giggle and a few other students around the room follow suit, he sighs contently. He goes onto explaining the syllabus and assignments for this semester. The class flies by, he’s easy to listen and pay attention to, sure his looks help but he seems genuinely interested in what he’s teaching. Which is a breath of fresh air, you diligently take notes, making sure not to miss anything. Before you know it, class is over and people start packing up their things.

“Oh class before I forget, if any of you are commuters, come get a parking pass from me unless you want a ticket.” he announces to the class, most of the class you assume living in the dorms hurry out of the room.

“Because not only are we charging students tuition we are also charging students just to park on campus, capitalism at its finest folks,” he snorts, shakes his head, and walks to his desk leaning against it.

After finally putting all your things away and checking where your next class is you head up to him. Just being near him makes your heart beat a million miles a minute, like your unworthy of being in his presence let alone so close to him.

He smiles warmer and wider as you stand in front of him, “Hey what can I do ya for?” he asks brightly.

“Oh, uh, I just need a parking pass if that’s okay,” you say quietly.

“More than okay my dear!” he declared. You blush at his words while he picks around in his desk drawer for a parking pass. His nose scrunches up in frustration as the digging becomes hastier and more urgent.

“I coulda swore I put em in here… or did I leave them in my office?... shit,” he breathes.

You giggle at his disorganization, and he looks up at you embarrassed, you wondered how a man who looks like how he does could ever be embarrassed about anything. The girls who sit behind you would agree.

“I promise I’m not usually this discombobulated.. just uh first days always come sooner than I think.” he chuckles

You nod knowingly at him “No worries I can always get it tomorrow or something.” you say waving his worries off.

He looks up at you through his glasses relieved “Really? That- that would be amazing. I would go grab them from my office, but I don’t think I have enough time to before my next class.” He studies you for a second like he’s actually looking at you for the first time.

“What’s your name again hun?” he says casually, as he opens his computer and types on his keyboard.

Your heart flutters at the continued use of nicknames, you take a second to study him again before you respond. He’s hunched over his desk, typing and clicking away on his computer like he’s searching for something. His eyes crinkled at the edges with age, memories of many days smiling and being in the sun. You notice his freckles that adorn his face and neck that you couldn’t see during class. If you had it your way, you’d take your time to count them all to try and make sense of his godly beauty. And his hands.. his hands look so strong effortlessly gliding across his keyboard.

You must have taken too long to answer because he looks up at you expectantly and raises his eyebrow and smirks. You shake your head slightly trying to regain your composure.

“S-sorry first day jitters, my heads a bit scrambled,” you confess to him. You tell him your name quickly, you hoped that your cheeks didn’t look as red as they felt.

His eyes softened a bit and nodded and continued to type on his computer for a couple more seconds before turning to you again.

“I emailed campus security to let them know that it’s my fault you don’t have a pass and if they do give you a ticket just bring it to me and I’ll sort it out for you, okay?” he states and steps away from his computer to face you again.

“Oh wow thank you so much Mr. Harrington, I really appreciate it!” you chirp

His face scrunches up at the name, and chuckles, some of his honey brown hair falling in front of his face, his hand ready to catch them and put the strands back in place. You were mesmerized.

“Uh Mr. Harrington is my father, call me Steve er Professor Harrington works to if you don’t want to be on a first name basis.” He says kindly

“Oh well thank you regardless…Steve.” his name sounds foreign but good on your tongue. You stare at your shoes and then realize that you’ve been in here looking at your professor for far too long.

What the fuck were you thinking? He probably thinks you’re insane but is too nice to say so.

“Ya of course,” he dismisses you easily.

“Anyways I don’t wanna keep you, have a good day,” you apologize.

"You too Y/N,” he calls, as you head out the door, glad that your back is to him so he can’t see you blush again just because he said your first name.

“Get it the fuck together.” you mutter to yourself as you walk aimlessly out of his classroom.

The rest of the day goes without a hitch, you find yourself actually excited for the upcoming topics in your classes. You’ve never given yourself the opportunity to properly nerd out about the things you’re interested in.

You finally get back to your car after all your classes and groan at the sight of a ticket stuck onto your windshield.

“Fuck…” you whine

Too tired to get it taken care of today you drive home and plop on your bed. Even though your classes were super interesting, it was very mentally draining. Extra draining because you’ve tried to force your brain to focus on classes and not think about your sexy sociology professor.

Was he this nice to all his students? Did you catch him eyeing you up while you were talking or were your eyes playing tricks on you? You keep trying to reassure yourself he is just really nice. But his hands… his smile…

You groan and rub your hands against your face trying to shake all the whirling thoughts out of your head. You force yourself to think about literally anything else, then your tummy rumbles. You haven’t had time to grocery shop considering you had just moved in yesterday and your fridge was completely empty except for some bottles of water and condiments.

Your phone buzzes next to you on your bed, you open it and smile.

“BITCHHHH I MISS U COME OVER! You’ve been in Hawkins over 24 hours & ive gotten radio silence from u! ur presence is being requested in the munson household immediately!

P.S Bring food my dad is starving me over here”

“At your service m’lady, cheeseburgers good?” you respond quickly

“ur a life saver babe<3”

Your mind drifts away from your professor and the ticket that is burning a hole in your bookbag. This place already feels more like home than any time you’ve ever spent where you were born. You missed your best friend so much. Violet Munson has been your ride or die best friend for as long as you can remember. You two became friends when you were sitting alone in the lunch room one day and she came and sat right down next to you and you two have been inseparable ever since… that is until her dad decided to move her back to Hawkins to be closer to family after the divorce right before freshman year. You had been crushed getting your best friend ripped away from you like that, but then you guys made the pack to get out of dodge when you could, and now you’re here… in Hawkins,Indiana.

You change into comfy clothes and grab some cheeseburgers, fries, and onion rings from the only burger joint in town and headed over to the Munson residence. You’ve never actually been to her house before because your parents never allowed you to visit after she moved away, so you two mostly kept in contact over constant texts and lots of facetiming.

Pulling up to her house you were more nervous than you thought, you hadn’t seen her in so long and hoped things wouldn’t be awkward. You turned off the ignition, grabbed the food, and went to open your door when you heard a scream come from the front of the house. You lift your eyes to see your best friend jumping up and down on the front porch in her pajamas. Violet had long bright purple hair and thick black eyeliner, kind eyes, a wide smile, and an infectious laugh.

“YOU’RE HERE YOU’RE REALLY FUCKING HERE HOLY SHIT!”

You laughed and dropped all the food in the front seat of your car and ran to meet her in the middle of her lawn and tackled her to the ground. You hugged her tight, squeezing your eyes together wishing the tears at the corner of your eyes to go away.

“Vi I missed you so fucking much.” you whisper

“Awe babe I missed you too.” she shares

You both get up off the grass and you grab the food and head inside. You set the food down in front of the tv like you used to do when she lived closer to you. You sit down on the couch and while she grabs plates. You sigh deeper into the couch, everything was just picking up exactly where you two had left off, you were gonna be okay. You smile quietly to yourself and then head to the kitchen to help her bring everything into the living room. You decide to watch a new horror movie that just came out, the two of you always bonding over everything creepy and spooky. You let Violet tell you about her partner Quinn, who she met a few years ago and was head over heels in love with.

Then the front doorknob jingled, and you heard the familiar thud of heavy boots.

“Ho- holy shit is that Y/N?!”

You turn to face the familiar voice at the door. “Hey Mr. Munson, long time no see!” you breathe.

Fuckk… when did Vi’s dad get so... hot?... what the hell is wrong with you today? First your sociology professor and now your best friends DAD?!

He grins widely at you just like his daughter, he shrugs out of his boots and walks into the living room.

“I got you a cheeseburger on my way over, still like double meat and cheese on your burger?” you question.

Mr. Munson puts a hand over his heart and falls into the love seat next to the tv.

“You remembered, I’m touched sweetheart.” he beamed.

“oh yeah no problem at all!” you blush.

“Well I’ll let you guys catchup, don’t need me harshing the vibes, Vi’s been nonstop talking about you coming to Hawkins a month!” he chattered

Out of the corner of your eye you see Violet roll her eyes at her father.

“Dad no one fucking says “harshing the vibes” anymore or at all, you’re aging yourself old man,” she chortles

Mr. Munson chuckles and puts his hands up in the air in surrender “Alright alright I’m leaving, if you guys need anything I’ll be in the garage. Thanks again for the burger Y/N!” he says kindly holding up the burger in one of his large tattooed hands.

You beam up at him happy to help, and this time you get a good look at your best friends dad. He’s aged so much better than you could ever imagine a man with Mr. Munsons lifestyle to ever age, the expression aged like fine wine captures it perfectly.

His brown hair still wild and curly as its always been but tied up into a low bun at the base of his neck. Only difference is the now visible little grey streaks that run through random curls. He has more laugh lines at the side of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. Still wearing his normal garb, black jeans with loads of rips, a band tee with a leather jacket. His chocolate brown eyes still full of mischief and debauchery. His nose ring ever present but you spy a few more additions to his tattoo collection, specifically a new neck tattoo and a few more on his hands.

Fuck his hands… wait you have to answer him. Answer him before it’s weird that you’ve been staring at him so long.. you’re really on a fucking roll today.

“It was my pleasure Mr. Munson really,” you gush.

He gives you a wink that goes straight to your core and vibrates in your bones and heads to the garage.

Violet didn’t seem to notice how flushed you were, eyes still on the screen, interjecting at random times when a scene looks to fake or when the blood splattering doesn’t look real enough.

After the movie the two of you head upstairs to Vi’s room, she wanted to show you her new additions to her every growing crystal collection and a few polaroid pictures of her and her partner.

“They literally make me feel like a princess I feel so lucky, for our 3 year anniversary they gave me these black tourmaline pentagram earrings, aren’t they so cute?!”

Your heart fills with warmth, Violet has always been loud and unique, you are so happy for her that she found someone who accepts her for who she is and loves her for it.

“That’s really sweet Vi, i'm so happy you have them, and that they treat you so well,” you grin.

“Thanks… what about you though? You’ve always been very singular… looking to change that any time soon? You deserve to be happy babe, even if it just means getting laid you deserve to get some. You’re a fucking catch dude” ,she compliments

“I mean you know I had a thing with Dylan for awhile before he got back with his girlfriend...” you murmur

“Oh COME ON, you know that’s not what I mean, not some assholes rebound!” she insists

“Vi I don’t have a line down the block like you used to have, you’ve got that whole hot sexy goth girl shit going on, I’m just me.” you babble and point to your gorgeous best friend

“What about Tom? You were with Tom for a long time what happened with him?” she asks obliviously.

“Fuckin cheated on me,” you sigh. Re-living your lack of romantic endeavors to your very not single best friend being up there in the top 10 most pathetic things to date.

“Oh fuck that guy, how fucking dare he!” she sneers while she tries to light the perfectly wrapped blunt in her hand.

“Shit I think my lighters dead, can you go ask my dad if he has an extra?”

You nod and head downstairs and search for the door that leads to the garage, finally you find the door you’re looking for and the image in front of you almost makes you audibly gasp.

Mr. Munson has a cigarette between his lips hes strumming along to some metal song that he’s humming the tune to, occasionally sucking in smoke and blowing out the side of his mouth. His head bobbing to the tune of the song completely in his own world. He’s beautiful.

You look at the way his fingers move to the beat and strum the strings on his guitar, mesmerized by how pretty they are. You can see all the calloses on his hands from all of the years of playing.

Your hand moves without thinking and knocks on the side of the garage door, getting Mr. Munsons attention.

“Oh shit, hey honey, ya need something?" He questions

“oh yeah sorry, Vi’s lighter ran out, and we were trying to light a blunt, you got an extra?” You ask.

Growing up, Mr. Munson had always been the more laid back between Violets two parents, letting her test the waters herself allowing more than the normal parent would. But as long as she was being safe and not doing any hard drugs he was mostly lenient with her. Not that it mattered much now that she’s grown.

“Uh yeah I probably got one around here somewhere, come pop a squat while I look.” he gestures to the chair beside him.

Your legs wobble while you move into the garage, it smelled so uniquely of him. His leather jacket draped over the back of his chair, smoke in the air, and metal music playing lowly in the background.

His space made you feel at home, the garage door was open so you could see the sun setting in the sky, and the metal music is weirdly comforting. You find yourself tapping your feet to the beat.

Eddie went to his truck looking for an extra lighter and your eyes wander to his guitar. You can tell he really cares about it, its clean, the strings look freshly changed, and recently polished.

“Oh yeah she’s a beaut isn’t she?" He observes proudly, leaning against his car with a new found lighter in hand.

“Yeah really pretty Mr. Munson,” you remark.

He smiles at you, “Here ya go, I don’t know how much juice is left in it.” He hands you the lighter, for the few seconds your hands connect you see how much bigger his hands are than yours, it almost makes you topple over in your chair.

“Thanks,” you reply. You grab the lighter with your hand and put it in your pocket and push out of the chair headed back into the house.

“Were you always this shy?” he asks inquisitively.

You turn around to face him confused by his question, you never really considered yourself shy, it just takes some time for you to come out of your shell.

“Shy?” you reply. fidgeting with a loose string on your sweatpants, your lips in a fine line.

“Yeah..you just seem.. shy or sad maybe, you doin okay?” he presses

You sigh hard trying to find the right words to explain the last few years and what would be appropriate to share with your best friends dad. “I’m fine really, just a long few days.” you share and smile to try and make it convincing.

He clicks his tongue and you know that he doesn’t believe you, your heart sinks. You never want to put your sadness or hurt onto anyone else, you’re a big girl and you can handle it on your own. You change the subject to the empty beer glass on the table in front of him, “Need another beer?” you ask

“Read my mind darlin, thanks,” he replies.

You head to the kitchen to grab him his beer and head back to the garage to bring it to him. When you get back he’s back at it strumming on his guitar in his own world, you wish for a second maybe you could just sit in his little world with him, it’s quiet and peaceful, no thinking required. You set the beer on the table and turn to head back upstairs.

“Hey Y/N, if you need anything or even just to talk I’m around, I know I’m not Violet, but if you need another friendly face, I’m here.” he smiles warmly at you.

Your heart melts, of course he’s the sweetest man in the whole world. “Thank you Mr. Munson that really means a lot,” you blush. Thankful to have one more person in this town on your side.

You close the door behind you and rush back upstairs hoping Violet doesn’t notice how long you’ve been gone. You hear voices and giggling on the other side of the door,

She’s on the phone with Quinn.

“She’s returned! Come here I want you to meet Quinn!” she exclaims. You breathe out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, no excuse necessary. Your friendship with Violet has always easier than breathing. You spend the rest of the night smoking weed and talking on the phone with her partner, glad to have the distraction from your recent interaction with her dad.

Did he really mean what he said? Or was he also just being nice? I guess he kind of has to be nice to me, being his daughters best friend. Plus he’s so out of my league, a man like him would never go for a girl like me, right?

Only time will tell.

No Pressure Tags!: (Just tagging some mutuals I thought might enjoy!) ** If you wanna be tagged in the next fic lemme know**

@untitled74745 @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @munsonology @lesservillain @tlclick73 @dukesmebby @cozyquinn @rowanswriting @succubusmunson @teddyeyeseddie @lofaewrites @chaoticmunsons @ryan-waddell11

#Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #Older! Eddie Munson #Older! Steve Harrington #older eddie munson #older steve harrington #Eddie Munson smut #Steve harrington smut #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie munson x reader x Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson fic #Steve Harrington fic #Steve Harrington x reader #Steddie x Reader #Steddie #chaoticharrington fics

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salaciousdoll · 1 year

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꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿ The Salacious Exploits ‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

You’re a girl who was brought into this world with riches. Many thought that you had it all but the act of abandonment done by your father says otherwise. Don’t get it misconstrued though, your father is still alive and in your life just doesn’t even glance your way even when you broke into the famous stadium near your house with your friends, leading to sending you away to boarding school. Boarding School was an experience. Getting through that obstacle only to end up at a nice 4 year University. Easy-peasy for you right? except two and a half years later you’re sent to Private College. You hated your mother for thinking what’s best for you but “The Kaizen of Maria” Private College was a risqué experience, way better than boarding school, am I right? Am I? See how you deal with being with the social classes you don’t usually be in. Hardships, flowing red and orange leaves hitting the ground in the opening season of fall, volleyball practices, majors, sexy instructors and classmates, and finally realization of issues.

Be apprised of the warnings before you read below: smut, heavy smut, plot build-up, angst, heavy angst at the end chapters and maybe beginning too, chubby reader in mind but everyone could read, age gap, reader is in her early 20s( 21-23), tw.taboo, teacher/student relationships, reader could be considered hyper feminine and Bimbo/ditzy, very different and wrong depictions of boarding school( just for the plot), trauma( heavy and light), power dynamic relationships, sex with no relations on one side( yours), large age gaps so please be aware, written with black reader in mind but again everyone could read, volleyball player!reader, fashion major!reader, chubby reader in mind but everyone could read, daddy issues are high here but this in no way to describe it in a sexual manner only( this also goes into depths of it), heavy drug use! But the reader is not doing it just watching + dark content!, threesomes, classroom fucking, under the desk, Pervert reader and some characters, size kink but not major, false!corruption kink, reader is very seductive without even doing anything, body fluids( squirting, creampies, cum on body), mention of the younger cast of each series( not everyone though), Fem!reader, the men and Hange are between the ages of (30-50, so exit out this series if you’re uncomfortable), some fluff here and there, a little self indulgent, small descriptions of body parts( cocks, pussy, hair, etc.), heavy body worship, oral( f & m receiving), mentions of alcohol/parties off campus, strict teachers( Nanami, Erwin, and Levi), toxic!relationships, unrequited love( male wise), modern!au, joint modern au, crossover au!

Characters: Erwin smith, Levi Ackerman, Onyankopon, Hange Zoe, Miche Zacharias, Gojo satoru, Geto suguru, Nanami Kento, Toji Fushiguro, Shiu Kong, Hiromi Higuruma, Keith shadis, Kishibe, Eren Kruger, Principal Yaga, Zeke Yeager, Atsuya Kukasabe, Grisha Yeager, Kenny Ackerman, and Choso Kamo

Wc: tba ( tie it up at the end of the series)

ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ┈•ﾟNote from Salaciousdoll: Thank you to Deja for the pictures/headers, I adore you so much for this because you did this for free and just for your own entertainment, I was so scared to ask you but we up!! 😭 read the warnings carefully everyone. As always, MDNI; 18+ only

Taglist

｡ﾟ•┈୨ CHAPTERS ୧┈• ｡ﾟ

i. The opening of Fall 9/19/23

ii. Friends? 10/1/23

iii. You can’t always get what you want 12/16/23

IV. I wouldn’t do a thing like that, that’s for sure! 1/16/24

V. Be my Daddy(1/24/24)

VI. Ridin’

VII. I put you down because I want you

VIII. Slut Pop

IX. Strawberry Pound Cake

X. Thee Five Star Bitch

XI. Cherry Cola

Xll. Ten men on my line tryna fuck me, your daddy’s the biggest spender

XIII. He calls me lavender

XIV. Just wanna have fun’

BONUS CHAPTERS

XV. Holding hands with an bad old man

XVI. Allure

XVII. Wanna know how red taste?

XVIII. Blood Rush Slut

XIX . Candy Necklaces

XX. French Restaurant

｡ﾟ•┈୨ SALACIOUS PLAYLIST ୧┈• ｡ﾟ

1. Boarding school- Lana Del Rey 2. Party Girls- Victoria Monet

3. Love Language- Sza 4. Open Arms- Sza ft Travis Scott

5. Mermaid Hotel-Lana Del Rey 6. Girl that got away- Lana Del Rey

7. Go Go Dancer- Lana del Rey 8. Off to the Races- Lana del Rey

9. I’m that girl- Beyoncé 10. Rocket- Beyoncé 11. You can be the boss- Lana del Rey

12. French restaurant- Lana del Rey 13. Fucked my way up to the top- Lana del Rey

14. Attention- doja cat 15. Daddy issues- The Neighborhood

16. Older- Isabel larosa 17. Naughty Girl-Beyoncé 18. Valley of the doll- Marina

19. What was I made for- Billie elilish 20. Baby doll- Mariah Carey

21. The roof- Mariah Carey 22. Body Electric- Lana del Rey

23. All Up In Your Mind- Beyoncé

Tagging: @chosoist @honeybleed @emomanswhore @simpingfor-wakasa @happygoluckyalexis @mastermindenoshimaalicia @angelshub and if anyone else wants to be tagged in future chapter, fill out the taglist form.

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hitoshiyoshi · 2 years

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stuck | bakugou katsuki

synopsis ↬ bakugou hates when nerds are better than him OR you get stuck in a closet but bakugou doesn’t feel like helping

warnings ↬ stuckage/kabeshiri, dub/non-con, college au, non-con picture taking, soft bully bakugou(?), bakugou doesn't act like a bully in the beginning but he does later on, the reader's favorite class is biology, the reader is a nerd, i'm sorry if i offend any nerds, the way you get stuck is kinda poorly written and i'm sorry, do not read if you don’t like being in tight spaces, or-l (receiving), f-ngering (receiving), bakugou calls you a lot of names (not nice names), slut-shaming, objectification, swearing, reader is wearing a skirt, leashes (brief), if you get confused at how I describe the scene just look at the header image, let me know if i've missed anything

pairings ↬ agedup!bully!bakugou katsuki x fem!nerdy!reader

word count ↬ 3.7k

Carefully carrying your biology class's materials, you strode along the partially empty halls to your destination. Professor Kayama, your biology instructor, asked if you could return them to a storage room in preparation for her next class. Being an exemplary student, you happily agreed — not minding the heavy load of fragile items. You held a large plastic tub of different materials she neatly stacked before handing them to you. Your slow-paced walk seemed to agitate some of your fellow classmates trying to hurry to their next activity, yet you didn't mind.

Entering the large storage area, you place the materials that manage to fit inside your arms on the floor. The room was quite large, filled with all assortments of items used in her class. All of which, you could name without even needing to try. Sticking your nose in science textbooks all day certainly paid off. The chatter of a loud group of students just outside the closed door seemed to distract you from your thoughts, just briefly.

You tried to unlock a door leading to a walk-in closet area, except it seemed to be jammed. This was a usual reoccurrence; Professor Kayama would always complain about the door, saying that it always gave her problems and that bringing this to your university for a fix would amount to nothing. She said, "they're too busy with less important things, i'll teach you how to fix it," and so she did.

It was a sliding door, the type that never swung open for "safety reasons". You tightly grasped the handle, pulling the door in the opposite direction while pressing all your strength against it. Finally, the door seemed to magically become smooth on its hinges and glided open with ease. Professor Kayama warned you never to suddenly push against the door with too much force at once as it would make the gears loose and jam it once again. So far, you've managed to survive the faulty door and any mishaps but you knew that you would eventually encounter some problems.

You pick up the plastic tub and enter the room, quickly arranging each object in its correct location. Of course, this wasn't your only duty for the day; Professor Kayama requested that you also tidy any materials that seemed out of place as she needed to leave campus early.

Again, you didn't mind. In fact, you seemed to enjoy knowing that you were her most-trusted pupil. The favorite of the class and the clear spark for envy from the other students. Always scoring the highest out of everyone in your class. Seated in the front during her lectures with your pen and paper ready to take notes while most students couldn't focus or snoozed off in the middle of class. You were the role model for them all to follow, and yet they could never match your pace.

Of course, with all of this attention, you attracted one jealous follower. A boy in your class with a name you were too busy to remember. It started with a "B", that was the only part you decided to memorize. You weren't interested in trying to become 'buddies' with people you wouldn't see again in four years. He always sat at the back of the lecture hall, too enamored with his friends to pay attention. You could vividly recall during one class hearing the obnoxious laughter of a friend he affectionately called, "dunce-face". The cacophony of their voices disrupted the entire lesson, irritating both you and Professor Kayama. You only noticed him because of his performance after every exam, project, and quiz.

The blonde would always try to outperform you. Yet, for the first time in his life, you made him experience failure.

Always coming in a distant second place to you; a sharp contrast to his perfect scores in every other class he took, passing them all with flying colors. You couldn't fathom how he did so well in a class he seemed to show no interest in.

His group of friends certainly weren't the brightest. The annoying one in your class failed nearly every test he took. While the rest weren't focused, instead finding ways to get a freshman's number so they could get their dicks wet. You concluded that he simply cheated on his exams. You were wrong. The notes for all his classes were extensive and thorough. He did whatever he could to ensure his throne was at the top of every class; the only thing more unbearable than last place was second.

His attempt at going above you only led to more shortcomings. Studying all night for a quiz that he ended up sleeping through was unfortunate, but he could get over it. Until he learned that you received another perfect score. Professor Kayama felt bad for him, she couldn't do much except arrange a tutoring session with you as his instructor. He didn't need her pity. He didn't need your pity.

You weren't elated with Professor Kayama's request for you to tutor him, yet you couldn't reject your favorite teacher. You approached him after class a few months ago, plastering your biggest and brightest fake smile. Waving your hand, a little too cheerful and innocent for his liking, and uttering words that made his hatred for you stronger: "I know this class is difficult, so would you like my help? I'm always free if you have any questions, we can be study partners! So, what do you say?"

God, your sweet tooth-rotting voice made him nauseous. You had to be faking it; that professor was watching over you like a hawk. You didn't know how humiliating it was for him. He had so much he wanted to say; resentful sentiments that would leave you beneath him with tears streaming out of your puffy eyes. The perfect view.

As you stood in front of him with your hand outstretched and waiting for his acceptance, his rage surged. You watched as his blood rushed to his reddening cheeks and ears, somewhat intimidated by his strange reaction. Infuriated with your weak attempt at challenging him, the blonde kissed his teeth and stormed out of the classroom. His gaze lingered on you for months following that interaction.

Until his deep ruby eyes caught you entering the storage room, running errands like a mule for your professors.

"Oi, Bakugou!" Yelled his red-haired friend standing across him in the hallway, "Are you listening?" Upon seeing the blonde nod, he continued. "So, you comin' to Mina's party?"

"Yeah, yeah... whatever," He said while running his fingers over the scruff of his neck. Kirishima named a list of girls attending like an elementary student reciting the alphabet, he's surprised he remembers each one. Momo, Uraraka, Yui... He recognized some, they were his frequent calls whenever he needed a quick fuck.

"—that girl in our english class," Kirishima peers up, trying to think once again before a lightbulb flickers in his head. "Denki tried with the smart girl in bio... fuck, I forgot her name... (Y/N) or something like that..."

"Who..?" He wasn't even sure why he bothered asking when he heard correctly the first time.

"That nerdy chick, always at the front in class,"

"Oh,"

"Yeah, but he said she's frigid... said no to his face before he could convince her. Too bad, she sounds like my type," Kirishima snickers under his breath as the blonde stays still.

By now, you've finished cleaning up most of the equipment and returned each of them to their assigned locations. Despite all of your years around fragile science materials, you seem to forget some essential points about safety. You can hear the familiar sound of heavy footsteps outside the closed door. Where have you heard them before? You only peeked away for a second; unfortunately, one second is enough time for an accident to happen.

Hitting your shin on the leg of a nearby desk before tripping over your feet, you fall on your knees and tummy — landing in the cramped walkway with the top half of your body inside the closet. You didn't have enough time to register the shockwave of pain through your legs. The closet's sliding door barrels down and pins you by the waist. Locking your body in place and wedging you right against the door frame. Fuck, it sounded like a cliché from a video on the Hub, which made it more embarrassing.

You try to move and twist your waist but to no avail. You reach your nearest hand to the door and push, yet it 'conveniently' seems jammed in place. For what feels like an eternity, you try desperately to move your body in any way that you can. You make some progress by managing to kneel on the hard tiles, yet the pain from falling prevents you from standing upright. Maybe you sprained something? You don't know, but you need to get out of here fast.

The last thing you want is to be a burden, but in reality, you should be concerned with someone thinking you're an idiot for falling like this. With few choices, you decide to call for help, "help..! somebody..! please, i need help!"

You should have been suspicious when you heard the sound of the front door opening. A minute hadn't even passed. It closes softly, and the faint sound of the lock fills the empty air. Asking if someone was there only led to more silence. The ground trembles like some desks have moved out of the way; obviously, someone was inside.

"Oh gosh, thank you..! I'm so clumsy, I don't know how this happened..." You continue rambling on, thinking they're clearing away to make space and rescue you. When they don't respond, you crane your neck behind only to see the disgruntled blonde — whose name you can't bother remembering — standing over you through the gap in the closet door. "Oh, it's you. Sorry, I don't know your name..."

"Doesn't fuckin' matter," Yet, he seems to grimace at your unnecessary comment. He menacingly looms over your body, making you too anxious and scared to look away.

"S- Sorry if I'm being a burden, but as you can see—" You say while trying to wiggle and show that you can't move but unintentionally show off your bum. "—I'm a little stuck, can you help me?"

"Why should I?" He says with an unwavering expression. He's dead serious. Piercing down at you beneath him while bubbling with excitement, he's won the jackpot.

"Uh... well, I'm hurt really bad. I can't get up on my own," That's unfortunate.

The whole situation was simply comical; he wanted to burst out laughing so bad, so that's what he did. His resounding yet obnoxious voice traveled through every wall of the room. This had to be a joke. There was no way that you of all the people he knew could end up in a situation like this. His cheeky grin only left you confused, clutching his belly as if he'd been injured.

"I know this might seem funny to you, but it's not. Please don't laugh..."

"But it is," He said, finally calming down and catching his breath. "I'm finding it hard to believe the teacher's pet could end up like this. Don’t tell me you’re a dumbass,"

"If you won't help me, will you just find someone else?" You turn your head around, letting your guard down for a moment. When will you learn to stop doing that?

"Why? Don't like me?" The feeling of his foot pushing into your lower back startles you. You aren't given much time to react before it's forcefully arched lower into an uncomfortable position, giving him a full view of your ass.

"H- Hey..! Cut that out..!" Your skirt rides up your thighs, exposing your cotton panties to his mischievous eyes. Greedy hands feel up your soft bum before giving it a tap.

"Wish I could help, but I don't feel like it," He says after finishing his touches. Staring off into the distance, acting as if he'd been genuinely contemplating whether or not to aid you.

"What..?" He eases his foot off your back and chooses to squat behind you. His hands caress your hips before lifting your skirt upwards, exposing your clothed heat.

"Sorry, love, you just look so pretty beneath me," He hooks his fingers under the fabric of your panties, chuckling to himself once he sees you struggle in his hands. Completely unfazed. "It's Bakugou... Katsuki, my name,"

Bakugou. Bakugou.

The surname rings a bell, it sounds so familiar. How could you forget? Your meager interactions with him flood back in your mind, but it's too late to remedy and make amends.

Tugging your panties past your cheeks, Bakugou left you uncovered as his hands freely roamed. He cupped each mound of flesh in his hands, spreading them apart and watching your folds glisten. His thumb runs along your labia, making your body shudder at the foreign sensation. Trying to ask him questions proved pointless; instead, the blonde whispered under his breath about you being desperate “like a bitch in heat”. Partially in disbelief at the sight of your slick as you rubbed your thighs together; you're really enjoying this, aren't you?

Circling his fingers over your clit and massaging your nub, your teeth sink into your lip to hold back moans. His fingers are skilled, he's done this plenty of times with other girls in the past. Yet, the way that he touches hints that he wants to go slow. Take his time and enjoy it as if you were his first. Smirking at your glistening heat as if to prove to his corrupted mind that his actions were justified.

To him, you were a conquest. The trophy on his display case that would become the envy of all his friends.

"W- Wait... Please don't—... do that..!" You want to sound strong, yet your voice is in the same sweet intonation.

Bakugou doesn't take you seriously, not when constant mewls float out of your lips and into his ears. Instead, saying he'll stop when he's finished in a tone that causes your heart to race with panic. You feel something warm and icky suddenly touching your heat; using his thumb, he spreads it across your folds while mumbling about "getting you ready". You don't even bother asking, succumbing to his lustful desires.

Maybe this is all he'll do. Feel you up and then help you when he's done, right?

You couldn't be more wrong.

His flat tongue takes a slow lap at your warmth as your hips wiggle again in his hold. Using both hands, Bakugou pins you still by your waist and lower back — holding you tight until you can't struggle. His grip is too strong, fingernails scratching into your skin. You don't stand a chance. He forces your back to arch more, releasing a hum of approval at your compliance. Kirishima said you were frigid, but now you've got him second-guessing.

His tongue darts across your clit with ease; gliding over your sensitive bud as your walls flutter. Teasing your sex just right, only taking Bakugou a few minutes to guess the spots that would drive you insane. The same insanity he was plagued with whenever he was around your presence. You tried using your legs to kick at the blonde, toes curling in your shoes. He swears into your pussy in frustration, why can't you just stay still? The vibration of his voice sends a wave of pleasure through as you moan in response, "nngh... d- don't i... i can't...ahh~"

One of your kicks nearly strikes him in the chest with full force. Your last attempt at fleeing once an intense pain surges through your leg. He simply finds it humorous again, the thought of you overpowering him. Bakugou moves one of his hands to your leg, pinning it to the tile flooring. Still determined, he continues his assault on your now swollen clit. Attached to your pussy and coaxing out your clear essence onto his tongue. Savoring your taste on his tongue, moving his head downwards, and giving you one final kiss on your clit.

You wince, feeling his thick middle finger sink inside your sopping entrance. Bakugou's thumb extends over the hood of your clit, soon covering both fingers in slick. Peaking through the gap, he sees your figure, biting on your fingers but failing to hide your whimpers — he can't wait to get out of this stuffy room — praying that you cum soon so he can see your face of pure bliss afterward.

Kirishima always said he preferred inexperienced girls. Always seemed to get attached easily with a few words of affection. Made good fucks for a quickie; send them a teddy bear, say you're sorry if you hurt them, and they'll be at your beck and call.

The familiar high pitch in your voice is something he hears too often, fully knowing what happens next. "don't tell me you're gonna cum already, love?" He taunts while his finger curls over another spot that sends a loud moan through the room. Bakugou's thumb presses deeper against your clit, smirking at your frequent pulsating walls.

"N- No..! I'm not...!"

"Hm, you're not? You're drippin' down here babe. Squeezin' me too. Was hoping you'd save some for my cock instead." His... what? You twist around, trying to stop him by reaching out but he grabs your hand instead. Stopping you from turning around and inspecting you like his newest toy, he says, "Ah, that's the pretty face I missed,"

Another digit enters you with ease, quivering against him and sucking him further with every graze against your g-spot. The familiar pooling of warmth below your stomach was hard to ignore. "should've known you were a slut when I saw your cute little pussy, only dumb sluts get wet like that," The boost of confidence he received once feeling your spasming walls was immense, clenching around him with every degrading word.

He slows, but not to a complete stop. "kats!—..." you whine in frustration, quickly pressing your lips together afterward. It surprises you as much as it does him. Not understanding why, after all this time, you wanted him more than ever. He edged you closer and closer, his fingertips kissing your cervix.

"Beg me," He said, yet you fought your lips to stay still, not wanting to embarrass yourself further. "Ah, teacher's pet thinks she's better than me, huh?" Bakugou's heavy hand suddenly connected with your bum, making you yelp at the stinging pain, "You know, I've got all day..."

"Please," You said weakly. Not good enough.

"C'mon, you can do better. Don't you wanna cum on my fingers..?" He spoke in a condescending tone, caressing the spot on your ass where he hit.

Fuck it, your head was far too gone. "please, katsu— i need... i wanna cum so bad..." Close, but not yet.

"Can't hear you, babe," His hand moves to tap against your clit, making you shudder with every hit. "Be a good little bitch for me, speak up..."

"Fu—Fuck... Katsu... please make me cum..! Need you... bad, lemme cum on your fingers— please..!

He smirked to himself, not entirely pleased but you'll learn — you're such an obedient student. Continuing with his pace, his thumb rolled across your swollen sex as the blonde watched expectantly. Making you unwind with every curl of his fingers until finally, a wave of pleasure rode over your body. Cum gushed from your entrance and onto Bakugou's fingers as he massaged your spot. Quickly finding himself mesmerized by your trembling thighs and sounds of ecstasy.

Eagerly removing his fingers once you've calmed, helping you ride out your orgasm before licking them clean. He moved to your dripping cunt, happily lapping at whatever sticky essence overflowed until his lips and chin shined under the overhead lights. As you pant and quiver, he gives you some encouraging pats on your bum.

He stands, and you hear the jingle of his belt before seeing his shadow move closer to you. Pushing his brawny arms through the gap, he loops the leather belt around your neck before fastening it. Bakugou gives an experimental tug and forces the strap upwards. The loop is loose enough for you to breathe but tight enough to leave indents.

He uses his strength to push the slider door open; it moves with ease. The old pesky thing was barely jammed, you probably could’ve gotten up on your own if you tried hard enough. Bakugou stares down as you try to move despite your aches and pains. “dummy doesn’t know basic physics, could’ve opened it yourself, bitch,”

Ignoring him, you try to stand but the blonde grasps the strap of his belt and tugs your body downward — making you fall straight on your knees again. Your body has become numb to the pain; when he presses his foot against your back again, you don’t even flinch. Bakugou kisses his teeth, annoyed that you're still whimpering. His belt is too short to stand, so he squats in front of you.

As you try to find comfort by caressing your aches, he pinches one of your cheeks harshly — forcing you to stare up at him, all teary-eyed and disheveled. The quick flash of his smartphone camera blinds your eyes, flashing white before fading.

"What did you do..?" You ask, but he doesn't need to answer. Instead, Bakugou moves his phone away from your face. "Please don't show that to your friends..."

It should've made him guilty. Hearing your desperate voice with puppy eyes begging him. But it only reminded him why he hated you so much, so weak and fragile yet somehow above him.

"Don't fuckin' look at me like that... I won't," No matter how much of an ass he wanted to be, he could never do that.

You're his personal conquest, the trophy, and the envy of all his friends. Knowing you, you'll probably take your 'goody-two shoes' ass and run to that professor you're close with or someone else he doesn't know. You can't run away yet, he wants to have more fun. Maybe fuck your brains out til' his name is the only thing your dumb ass can remember.

Bakugou stands and decides to bring his phone out once again, this time recording.

"I won't tell a soul, so put on your prettiest face... just for me,"

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#tw:noncon #tw:dubcon #bakugou x reader #mha smut #mha x reader #bnha smut #bnha x reader #bakugou smut #katsuki smut #bakugou katsuki smut #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou kinktober #mha kinktober #bakugo smut #bakugou fanfic #bakugou fic #katsuki fic

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deandoesthingstome · 2 years

Text

Holiday Angel

Pairing: CEO!August Walker x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 18K; Um. You’re welcome? Get some snacks and water.

@fvckinghenrycavill asked nicely, so I'm releasing this earlier than planned. Also, I think @mayloma might be waiting patiently?

Warnings: age difference (m 40′s, f 20′s; it’s your best friend’s dad for god’s sake), mention of cheating, mention of phone sex, masturbation (f), light!dom (m)/sub (f), praise kink, lingerie, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, p in v sex in various positions, protected sex, light bondage, spanking and ass play; if this doesn’t sound like something you’d be into, I won’t be offended if you scroll on by

A/N: Let's be clear: I've only seen MI:Fallout once. I really only know August from Tumblr. This is an AU, where he is not a traitorous anarchist. I also am not comfortable writing a strict dom, so please take a softer August than you may be used too. Additionally, you are a US college Junior in this story (21-ish). Don't worry, I'm not 21 either. Trust me. It's okay. This is a fantasy.

I've also been extremely self-indulgent here. You're gonna see some names you might recognize. You might wonder what college you go to, where in the US you are, or what year it is. I have taken many liberties. Please absolutely enjoy them. (And if anyone was following along with this post, you may notice a scene change. Trying out my inclusivity options.)

And I have a Spotify playlist I used for various scene inspiration if you're interested.

Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker (could anyone really tie him down?), but I do own these words and this story. Do not repost as your own. Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are more than welcome. It’s how I get my nourishment.

Header by me. Dividers by the ever wonderful and giving @firefly-graphics.

You dropped the Blue Book for your last final on Professor Marshall's desk and skipped out of the room with glee, suppressing the urge to turn back and grab one more mental image of the grumpy professor for the road.

Christmas break was officially on!

Gemma was waiting in the loading zone outside McKinney Hall, her brand new Audi packed with both your bags and ready for the five hour road trip home.

"Bitch, what took you so long?" she teased, knowing you were actually a little early. You had breezed through the test and ran back to the dorms to meet her. She handed you your favorite iced coffee indulgence, a special treat for making it through the week.

"Let's hit it!" you shouted, turning up the volume on the Spotify playlist Gemma had primed and ready to go.

You swapped driving duties halfway, stopping at a drive-thru to grab french fries to supplement the cut fruit and snacks you packed for the trip.

"God, I am craving salt right now!" Gemma exclaimed.

"Auntie on the way?" you sympathized.

"Yesss," Gemma groaned. "And Mikey wants to meet up first thing when he flies in on Sunday. God I hope she gets lost on the way!"

"How's that been going? Long distance and all."

You were glad you and Gemma had decided NOT to room together again after the fiascos of Freshman and Sophomore year. It was only through the saving grace of several grueling classes that kept you library or study group bound for a good portion of the time that you had been able to overcome the petty drama.

It was Gemma's father who had actually suggested she move off campus alone this year and you were pleased to find a lighter class load that allowed you to spend more quality time with your childhood best friend without wanting to rip her face off every five minutes. He was so wise, that Mr. Walker.

But living apart kept you from knowing every single detail of each other's lives, so the drive was a perfect time to catch up on the minutiae.

"It's been weird, honestly. I mean, hooking up last summer was totally unexpected. I can't believe he finally let Chelsea go, but what a fucking night that was!" Gemma squealed as you tamped down your jealousy.

Everyone in high school had the hots for Mike, and you were no exception. But Gemma caught his eye at the last hurrah before heading back to college this past September and, well, girl code. Even if your tastes in men hadn’t already started changing, he was off your list forever now. Especially because he had actually seemed hellbent on making a true go of it with her, promising nightly calls that unfortunately turned weekly as the semester dragged on.

"He's seemed a little distant lately. Distracted. That missed call on Halloween really had me questioning everything he said about giving us a shot. But he's been making it up to me. The phone sex..."

"Stop. Please. I don't want to hear about him slapping one out over the phone," you laughed.

"He sounds so sexy when he comes. Long distance or otherwise."

"Ugh, god. Stop!"

"What? Like you don't love it too! What's up with you and Charlie?"

"Fuck him,” you scoffed. “D'you know, I caught him with Brigette?"

"Your roommate Brigette?"

"Yup. Right before finals started. I need to find a new living situation for next semester, stat!"

"God, why didn't you say something??? Are you okay?"

"I'm surprisingly fine. Things hadn't been so hot lately and honestly, I just don't think he's for me."

"What, missionary all the way?"

You both laughed until the tears were running.

"You should've seen his face when I asked to be on top once. It was like I killed his dog or something."

"Jesus, yeah. You're better off. You need a real man," Gemma declared.

You laughed again, but it came out with a hitch in your throat. A real man was right.

"What was that?" Gemma asked.

"What was what?" you feigned innocence, and held your breath.

"You laughed like you're hiding something. You got a thing going with one of your professors?"

You exhaled as normally as possible. Easy enough to fib your way out of this one with an opening like that.

"God, nothing's going on. But have you seen Professor Marshall? I alternately congratulate and kick myself for choosing a criminal justice major. That man is so fine to look at," you let out a whistle. "It's distracting!"

"So I've heard. Think it's too late to switch majors?"

"Why would I?"

"Not you, silly! Me," Gemma laughed.

"Your father would be so disappointed if you didn't finish your business degree. Who's he gonna leave the company to?" You winked at her, knowing she wanted nothing to do with it. She was only playing along, hoping to find a college boyfriend that would be able to keep her in the lifestyle to which she was accustomed.

You didn't think Mikey was it, but hey. Neither your circus nor your monkeys. You chatted for a bit longer before Gemma dropped into a light sleep. Girl could never last in the car as a passenger on long drives. The hum of the road put her out if she wasn’t in charge of driving.

While she slept, you thought about Mr. Walker.

When did this infatuation start? You’d met Gemma, and by extension Mr. Walker, in 5th grade after your parents had moved across town and into a new school district. Mrs. Walker had already passed and you don’t know why Gemma’s father never remarried, but you also never saw or heard about him bringing a woman home to meet her.

In high school, when you really started paying attention to boys, you began to notice how good looking Mr. Walker was. But the most you ever hoped for was to meet a boy who would grow up to be as handsome. It wasn’t until lately, when some of your college professors had piqued your interest, that you began to fantasize about him, too. This might be a long week.

You pulled up the scenic drive and parked in front of the Walker residence around 8pm. Gemma blinked her eyes opened and stretched before getting out of the car.

"You sure it's okay I stay here until my parents get back?" you leaned over the gear shift to call out the door. "I can't believe they scheduled a whole house reflooring right before Christmas and then skipped town on me to boot."

"It's totally fine. Dad's probably gonna be busy 24-7 at the office so we'll have the run of the house. And thank God for heated pools!"

You kept your mouth shut, knowing if you showed any interest at all in why Mr. Walker would be so busy this close to the end of the year your face would probably melt off from the heat you felt every time you thought about him lately. Let alone the image of him in swim trunks in the pool. Or not in swim trunks.

Gemma leaned back into the open passenger door and you snapped out of it.

"Coming?"

You turned your whole body to open the driver door, desperate to hide from her the wanton desire you were sure adorned your face. Coming, indeed.

You both grabbed your bags from the back seat and headed up the pristine sidewalk towards the stately mid-century modern mansion Gemma called a "house". The thing could host a Hollywood premiere party and was decorated with such understated glamor you wouldn't be surprised if it would play backdrop to such a party one day. Or maybe a movie set.

The tall, rich wooden door had a thin vertical metal handle stretching from a quarter of the way down the right side, stopping a quarter of the way up from the bottom. A warm glow streamed through the large panels of windows stretching across the front of the house and exposing the elegantly decorated Christmas tree in the front living room surrounded by sleek, minimal furniture.

When Gemma finally tapped in the key code and opened the door, you stepped into the flagstone entryway and smiled at the white lights nestled in the pine garland covering the banisters of the floating stairs leading up to the master bedroom and sitting area loft, then down to the basement holding several guest rooms, the fitness and media rooms, as well as Gemma's room.

Another couple guest room suites could be found on the main entry level along with the custom gourmet kitchen and pantry, dining area, mud and laundry rooms. You knew Mr. Walker's home office was somewhere on this level as well, though you'd never dared venture down the hall to find it. He’d always made it very clear it was off limits.

You were dying to sink into the oversized conversation couch that surrounded the sunken floor of the family room in the back of the house and stare off into the fire or out the back windows onto the deck overlooking the pool but Gemma called for you to follow her downstairs first.

"I have to get out of these clothes and then we'll DoorDash."

"No need, sweetheart." Your heart stopped as you heard the deep voice call from upstairs. "I made dinner, it's just warming in the oven. I'll get plates ready for you both, so hurry settling in."

"Dad! I thought you'd still be at the office!" Gemma exclaimed, dropping her bags and heading to the landing to give her father a hug and turning her head away to accept his kiss on the cheek.

"Well, I couldn't let you two eat cold takeout. They can never keep it warm on the drive out here." He turned, letting go of Gemma and opening his arms to you in what should have been a normal welcoming gesture if you hadn’t just been fantasizing about him half the ride home. "Good to see you again."

You suppressed a flustered squeak and pressed your lips together to stifle the drool, thankful Gemma was now behind her father and couldn't see your face as you reached for the hug. But he could. Did. For sure. Fuck.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Walker. That's very kind of you," you managed to reply while trying not to inhale his scent too deep.

"It was nothing," he let go of you and stepped back, slipping his hands slowly into the pockets of his dress slacks.

Were you staring at his muscular forearms, visible below the line of his crisp, white rolled up sleeves? God, you were. Get a fucking grip.

"We'll be right back, Dad. Thanks."

Gemma led you downstairs and sent you off to your regular overnight room down the hall from hers. You were grateful both rooms had their own bathrooms so you didn't have to pass her on your way to splash cold water on your face.

How were you going to survive these next few days before your parents came back with your aunt, uncle, and cousin for Christmas? Gemma wasn't wrong about needing a real man. You'd put up with immature boys all through high school.

Once you started college, a series of gorgeous, educated older men led your lectures over the last few years and your desires had slowly shifted. It really was no problem that Charlie had cheated on you. Perfect opportunity to drop him and move on to something more meaningful. And hopefully someone more experienced.

Has Mr. Walker been in your sights all along? No. No way. But here he was now. It wasn't right to think about him this way, but fuck he looked good tonight, that fluffy curl hanging down and that porn 'stache. What else could you call it? He even had a little of the scruff you'd really enjoyed seeing on Professor Marshall. You wondered how it would feel between your... You heaved a sigh. This can not happen.

You splashed another round of cold water and then dried your face, swapped your jeans for light cotton joggers, and then climbed the stairs to join Gemma and her dad in the dining room.

"There you are," Mr. Walker announced, standing at the head of the table with a bottle in his hand. "We thought you'd gotten lost." He flashed what felt like a knowing smirk as you froze in your tracks.

"Dad, don't be daft. She knows her way around the house." She turned to you from her seat to the right of her father and motioned to your usual guest spot across the table from her, to the left of Mr. Walker.

"Oh, let me have my fun, Gemma. Would you girls like some wine?"

"'Girls', dad? Really?"

"What would you prefer?"

"Ladies?"

Mr. Walker chuckled as he picked up the bottle and poured two glasses of wine.

"Right then. There you go, ladies."

He tilted his head to the side and glanced at you as he split his arms and passed the glasses over by the stems. You did your best to grab the bowl, but his fingers shifted up slightly as he released your glass. You heated again as they brushed the back of your hand and you took a sip immediately, trying to cover the pleasure that had to be apparent on your face.

You set the glass down and picked up your knife and fork, preparing to dig into the plate of luscious looking food in front of you. You took a bite and tried to suppress it, but a groan slipped out of your mouth as your eyes rolled closed. You closed your lips and chewed the fork-tender meat, marveling at it melting away in your mouth. When you finished swallowing, you opened your eyes to find Gemma staring at you, mouth agape.

You turned your head to find Mr. Walker's piercing blue eyes trained on yours as he leaned casually against the arm of the oversized dining chair.

"Enjoying it?"

You blinked and remembered where you were, who you were with.

"Mr. Walker, these short ribs are divine!" you declared.

"Jesus. You act like you never ate a home-cooked meal before," Gemma snapped.

"Sorry, I just," you shook your head to clear the fog. "I mean you’ve always been a great cook, I've just never tasted anything like this."

"It's good, right?" Mr. Walker asked. “I’ve been expanding my repertoire lately.”

"It really is. Oh my god I'm so embarrassed! Gemma, I'm sorry. That was..."

You stared at her across the table with a silent plea, your eyes begging her to say something, anything. You were about to give up completely when Gemma burst into laughter, tears streaming down her face.

"You absolute freak!" she laughed and you let out a breath and laughed with her.

You kept your shit together during the rest of the dinner for the most part. But Mr. Walker poured another few glasses of wine and you could feel yourself getting tipsy.

"I think I need to head to bed, but do you need any help in the kitchen, Mr. Walker?" you asked.

"No, but thank you for the offer. Be careful down those stairs." Did he wink at you?

"See you in the morning!" Gemma called, with a lightness that told you she had well and truly forgiven the awkwardness of just an hour or so ago.

You peeled off your thin sweater and discarded your bra, leaving just a lacy camisole and your joggers. You pulled back the thick pile of covers on the bed and were about to climb in, when a wave of thirst overtook you.

You opened the bedroom door and stepped softly into the hall. The Walkers always kept a mini-fridge stocked in the media room down here. You froze as you entered the doorway.

"Oh, Mr. Walker! I was just..."

"I thought you might want a bottle of water for your nightstand."

You exhaled a small laugh as you both spoke at the same time, but then froze again as you watched the way he held the bottle. Low, at his hips. One hand on the base, the other fiddling with the cap.

" Wh..where's Gemma?" you practically whispered, unable to get your voice to cooperate suddenly.

"She's finishing up the dishes. I’m sure she'll be right down," he replied with a firm, confident tone. "Did you want this?"

He gave a slight nod in the direction of his hands, where you saw he was now tipping the bottle back and forth, before finally offering it to you with an outstretched arm and hand gripped firm around the plastic form.

"Here. Take it."

You nodded and reached for the bottle, once again trying to avoid his touch. Once again finding your fingers brushing against his.

“There you go.”

Your stomach dropped along with his voice as you realized what a terrible idea staying here was. There was no way you were going to be able to hide your desire from Gemma if her father was going to keep acting like this. Time stood still while you tried to move something, anything. Your eyes away from his. Your mouth to say thank you. Your feet to head back to your room.

"Let's get you back to bed," he stepped forward, turning you with a hand on your shoulder, then sliding that hand down your side to your waist and guiding you down the hall.

He stopped at the door frame, pressing you gently into the room. You almost moaned at the loss of his touch as you stepped out of his reach and sat on the edge of the bed, finally finding your voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Walker."

"Sweet dreams." He absolutely winked at you. Fuck.

He pulled the door shut, leaving you all alone with the crazy feelings stirring inside you. This is your best friend's father. You reclined back in the bed. Snap out of it. Girl code isn't just about boyfriends. Pulled the covers over you. Besides, he's like, twice your age, at least. Stared at the dark ceiling, while your fingers shifted under the covers and down your belly. But the way he looked at you tonight. Slipped a hand past the waistband of your pants. He wasn't just being polite. Tentatively touched the heat between your legs.

He was flirting, there was no denying it. Maybe you could have written off the hand brush at dinner, but he was showing off with the bottle of water. He wanted you to look.

You swirled a finger gently through your folds, gathering the slick and spreading it around. You thought about his mischievous grin, his tailored pants, and his strong hands before plunging two fingers deep inside, pulling them back out slowly to circle your clit.

"More," you whispered to yourself, then obliged with fingers deep again, arching your back for better positioning.

"Right there," you moaned quietly, letting the fantasy circle around your head. You pumped in and out, curling deep to find your sweet, spongy spot while you toyed with the idea of letting him touch you.

"Please," you begged, pressing a thumb against your clit, twitching with anticipation. You couldn't wait any longer.

You pulled your slick fingers from your clenching walls and focused all your attention on your clit, rubbing tenderly while you imagined his mouth on you.

"God, Mr. Walker!" you gasped, finally reaching your peak. "August," you whispered, rolling to your side and clasping the blanket close around you while you worked to slow your heart rate before drifting off to sleep.

You woke late on Saturday. It was 10 am when you looked at the clock. The floor to ceiling blackout curtains had really done their job.

You skipped the shower, even though you craved one after the long drive and your private activity the night before. Instead, you just washed your face and wrapped a thin robe around yourself before heading up to find breakfast. Gemma was sitting at the kitchen counter typing away on her phone, empty cereal bowl in front of her.

“Oh, good. You’re up! And you didn’t shower already, perfect. Grab a bite and then let’s hang in the hot tub this morning. I have a kink in my neck from that car ride I need to work out!”

You poured yourself a bowl of cereal and mug of steaming coffee and took a seat in a low back leather barstool next to Gemma. She let you eat in silence while she finished her text conversation.

“Ugh,” she exclaimed, slamming the phone on the counter. “I can’t believe Mike got put on shift at the end of finals week.”

“That why he couldn’t get home already?”

“Yeah, says it’s like a right of passage for all new bartenders at the club. Business is light, but they schedule you with a threat that you’ll lose shifts the following semester if you don’t stay to serve the stragglers and the few locals who pop in the bar once the college crowd clears out for break.”

“But he’ll be home tomorrow, right?”

“Yep. You done?” She watched for your nod. “Well get changed and let’s hit the tub.”

You headed back downstairs to your room and fished your bikini out of your luggage. After changing, you threw the curtains aside and pulled open the sliding door leading to the heated pool deck. Gemma must have had her suit on under her robe because she was already soaking by the time you stepped outside.

You slipped into the bubbling water, immediately grateful for the suggestion. The warmth began to work on your own tension you hadn’t even realized you were holding and you let out a little moan.

“I hear you on that,” Gemma stated. “I hate long car rides! They fuck with my spinal alignment.”

“Yeah, this water feels so good.” You closed your eyes and tilted your head back against the side of the tub, sinking as deep as you could without dipping your face in the water. You snapped up when you heard the splash and blinked your eyes open to see a figure skimming under the water from the far deep end of the pool to the shallow end closer to where you sat in the hot tub.

When Mr. Walker popped his head above water and hung on the side of the pool to say good morning, you were ever so grateful for the steam hiding any lust in your eyes.

“Hey dad.” Gemma turned from her spot to face him.

“Are you ladies getting in the pool this morning?” he smirked.

“No, I think we’re just gonna soak and then go veg in front of the TV for a bit,” she replied, hanging off the side of the hot tub.

“Alright, well, I’m headed out to check on a few sites this afternoon. Should I plan on you for dinner or have you made other arrangements?” Mr. Walker asked.

“Dinner here sounds great, dad. Thanks.”

Gemma turned back to you as you watched Mr. Walker duck back into the water and begin a series of laps. You fluttered your eyes closed so she couldn’t see how blown your pupils were, watching him first speak with Gemma and then propel his body through the water. God, he was practically naked over there. You were practically naked over here. You leaned your head back again to pray for relief.

When you both felt loose and relaxed enough, you climbed out of the hot tub, grabbing an oversized towel from the lidded basket next to the pool to dry off. You were just bending over to reach your lower legs and feet when you heard the splash of footsteps on the pool stairs.

“Right then, that’s me done. And don’t you two load up on snacks while I’m gone. You’ll spoil your appetite.”

You held your breath as he leaned next to you to grab a towel, another mysterious smirk on his face as he rose to face you. You stood and pulled your towel up your body, pretending to wipe non-existent water from your face just to avoid any further eye contact. His body was amazing and his wet swim trunks were clinging to his thighs. If Gemma caught you staring, you were done for.

When it felt safe, you lowered the towel from your face and watched him pad up the staircase leading to the main level before entering the house. Your heart was beating a million miles per hour, but luckily Gemma was already heading inside herself.

You showered finally, then donned some comfy loungewear and joined Gemma in the media room where she’d already cued up Netflix.

“Ready to binge The Witcher?” she asked. “They just released the new season last night.”

“Ugh, that man could raw-dog me all day and night!”

“Where is the lie???!!!???” she laughed with you.

You grabbed some water from the mini-fridge, doing your best to ignore the scene from last night that popped into your head as you settled into an oversized, reclining theater seat. Gemma paused the autoplay on the third episode and asked if you wanted some lunch. You were hungry, alright. But yeah, a sandwich sounded good.

There were still at least 3 more episodes of the season left, when Mr. Walker called down around 6.

“I’m starting dinner now. It’ll be ready shortly.”

“We’ll help,” Gemma called and flipped off the tv. You both headed upstairs to the kitchen. Gemma began to set the dining table, so you sat at the kitchen counter and asked what you could do.

“You could prep that basil for me,” Mr. Walker replied. “Here, like this.”

You watched rapt, as he proceeded to show you how he wanted you to tear the leaves gently into small pieces. When he was sure you had it right, he drizzled some olive oil in a large shallow saute pan and waited for it to warm before tossing in two packages of gnocchi.

He stirred them around for a few minutes and when he was satisfied by their state, he ladeled them out into a serving bowl. He scooped out a few and offered them over the counter to you and Gemma. You each plucked a warm, crispy potato pillow from the spoon and you sighed when you popped it in your mouth, happy that Gemma was making the same noise and you wouldn’t be called out this time. Something about food with Mr. Walker was becoming increasingly sensual to you.

He added some more olive oil and then butter to the pan, waiting for it to melt before pouring in the heirloom cherry tomatoes he’d asked you to dry off from the colander in the deep sink. He sprinkled in some salt and gave them a quick stir, then turned to the open the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine.

He poured three glasses set on the counter and pushed two towards you and Gemma with his fingers pressed on the base of the stems. Then he raised his own glass.

“I’m glad you’re home, sweetheart,” he tipped his glass to Gemma, and then toward you. “Both of you, of course.”

You took a small sip, watching over the rim as he did the same and you held your breath while your eyes trailed along his throat as he swallowed, hoping Gemma didn’t notice you staring.

The three of you chatted amicably, while Mr. Walker stirred the tomatoes in the pan until they began to burst, at which point he dumped the crispy gnocchi back into the pan. You watched in awe as he lifted the heavy pan with one hand and gave it a good toss, shifting it back and forth with subtle little wrist flicks that nestled the gnocchi into the simple sauce. Then he stirred in some fresh mozzarella pearls and some of the hand-torn basil, giving you a wink of thanks, before popping the whole thing under the broiler.

He asked Gemma to carry the salad and offered you the last pour of wine before sending you off to the dining room with a fresh bottle. Seated at your usual spot, you piled a moderate amount of the bubbly dish onto your plate, inhaling the heavenly scent of basil and tomato. Mr. Walker raised an eyebrow as he held a small bowl of shaved parmesan in your direction. When you nodded, he held the dish for you while you sprinkled the cheese over your plate, eyes watching you the whole time. The fact that he simply turned and handed the bowl to Gemma to let her hold it while she sprinkled her own cheese was not lost on you.

The white wine wasn’t affecting you the way the red had the night before, so once dinner was over, you and Gemma helped clean up and then headed downstairs to finish out the season before going to bed.

You woke yourself up in the middle of the night with your hand down your pants again, teasing your slit while you recalled the dream.

A rugged man with long silvery hair helped you down off his horse and led you to a blanket in a clearing near a steamy pool of water. From a small bowl, he plucked a tiny ripe tomato with his fingers and gently pressed it into your waiting mouth. You sighed as the tomato burst when you bit into it and shivered when he bent over to lick the juice running down your chin with the tip of his tongue before pressing you to your back and holding you down with a heavy kiss. You whispered his name into the night once again as you came.

“August.”

In the morning, you peeled the covers back and stretched your way out of bed. The pleasure of the mid-slumber release you gave yourself last night still tingled in your mind. You showered and dressed, then climbed the stairs again searching for Gemma and hopefully breakfast, missing that her door was still closed. You stopped short seeing Mr. Walker alone in the kitchen.

“Good morning. Did you sleep alright?” He spoke with a suspicious tone. It was like he knew. How could he know?

You swallowed and tried to find your voice. “I did. Thank you.”

“Coffee?” He held the french press up and grabbed a mug when you nodded. “I have a frittata here, too, if you’d like some.”

“Yes, please. Smells amazing,” you inhaled and closed your eyes slowly, remembering the meals from the last few nights as well. “You’re a really good cook, Mr. Walker.”

“I certainly try,” he winked at you. “So what do you two have going on today?”

“I don’t know. Mike gets in this afternoon and I think Gemma wants to meet up with him.”

“Will you be joining them?”

You blinked and swallowed. How do you tell a father that his daughter is probably going to be getting railed six ways to Sunday tonight, so no, you wouldn’t be joining them?

“Uh…”

“Morning!” Gemma’s cheery greeting broke the tension and you were thankful you didn’t have to tell Mr. Walker that the reunion tonight was for Gemma alone. She gave her father a peck on the cheek and poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Gemma, sweetheart, are you meeting Mike tonight?” Mr. Walker asked.

“I am!” she grinned.

“Alone?”

“Yeaahhhh…” she answered, just short of shy. “Sorry dad, I probably should have said something earlier. But you can handle a night without me, right?”

Mr. Walker stared at her for a moment and suddenly all the tension was back in the room. He had to know what was going to go on tonight. How could he not?

“I’m sure I can figure something out. But please, be safe.”

You pursed your lips and widened your eyes as you turned away from them. Was he saying what it sounded like he was saying? Did he have no illusions about the extracurricular activities of his one and only daughter? Sure, she was of age and he had to know what she got up to away from home, but still. If you had to tell your parents you were going to be skipping a night home with them to get it on with your boyfriend, you’d probably melt into the furniture.

“Always am,” Gemma exclaimed cheerfully.

“Alright, well, I’m off. I have some work to finish up here and then a few more site visits to make today.”

“On a Sunday, dad, really?”

“We’re very close to closing this deal and it has to be done before the end of the year. I want to be sure the due diligence is correct so I don’t get stuck with a billion dollar dud when everything is said and done.”

“You’re obsessed.”

“About the things I care about, why wouldn’t I be? You two have fun today. Gemma, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Not before you get home, unless you’re not going into the office tomorrow?”

“To be determined.” He gave you both a short goodbye wave and headed out.

“Awk - ward…” you sing-songed, once you were sure he was out of range.

“Ugh, I know. He’s not stupid. I mean, he knows I’m active, but it’s still a little weird being so forthcoming with him about it.”

“Has he ever had anyone…” you asked before you could filter the thought.

“I mean, you’re here all the time when I’m home. Have you ever seen him bring a woman around? I know he’s dated over the years, but no one’s ever good enough for him. They never last so he never wants to introduce us. It’s a little sad, really.”

You nodded in agreement.

“Do you want to have a swim and sit in the hot tub for a bit again this morning? Mikey’s flight gets in at 3, so I was hoping you and I could head into town for lunch and maybe some shopping and then you could drop me at his place and drive my car back here. Unless you want to meet up with anyone, of course.”

“Sounds perfect. I’m honestly just looking forward to another veg fest tonight.”

You changed into your bathing suit and slipped a robe over top, then met Gemma on the heated pool deck.

“I can’t get over how warm it is right now! Clearly no hope for a white Christmas.”

“I know! Air’s still a bit chilly, but yeah, sucks. I’d love snow for the holidays,” you replied, dropping your towel on a lounge chair and untying your robe. You slid the fabric off your shoulders, and stepped down the stairs into the warm, salt water pool. You let your body acclimate a bit before dipping your head completely under and pushing off the bottom to glide to the far side in one breath. When you surfaced, you grabbed a hold of the side of the pool and realized Mr. Walker was standing at his office windows, staring down at you.

He held your gaze for what felt like a moment too long, then turned away, presumably toward his desk, but impossible for you to see his face. Which, to be honest, was fine because for a minute it felt like he was going to burst through the windows and eat you up.

The splash as Gemma broke the surface next to you snapped you out of your reverie and she tugged you back from the side, urging you into an easy lap race. You swam back and forth the length of the pool about twenty times before stopping back at the shallow end.

“That all you got?” Gemma called, crawling away toward the deep end again.

You stared after her, but let your gaze raise to the windows. His window. You could see nothing inside from this far away, the light tint blocking everything. But you knew he was there. Was he still sitting at his desk, typing a memo? On the phone, arranging an international meeting? Or was he back at the window, watching you with his hands in his pockets, struggling not to touch himself? Or fuck, maybe he was touching himself. You sank under the water before Gemma could reach you again.

“Hot tub?” she asked, when you bobbed to the surface.

“Hot tub,” you agreed.

You lounged in the even warmer, bubbling water for another 15 minutes or so, sending the last of your finals week jitters packing. This semester was over. Your relationship was over. There was nothing more you could do about your performance for either scenario. So you closed your eyes and let it all go with a sigh.

“There you are.”

“What?” you opened your eyes as Gemma spoke.

“You’ve been on edge. I know you said you didn’t care about Charlie, but something’s been bothering you. You just look so much more relaxed now. You good? Still okay about the plans for tonight? I don’t mean to leave you all alone, but…”

“I’m gonna be so good, Gem. Don’t worry about me. Let’s go. I want to see if that pop-up shop is still around. They have the cutest jewelry.”

“Yes!”

You found the store you were looking for and bought a few new pairs of earrings. A long, thin drop chain pair and some geometric hoops, asking the clerk if you could wear the gold bar threaders out of the store. You also found a necklace for your mom and some jade bracelets for your aunt. Christmas shopping halfway done.

Gemma pulled you into a lingerie shop next.

“I wanna get something sexy for tonight.” She tried on a few outfits and picked out a few for you to try on too.

“This is silly. I don’t have anyone to wear this stuff for anymore.”

“Oh, just wear it for yourself. Don’t you just feel luxurious in silk?”

You agreed and bought the dark blue, high cut silk romper with black lace trim and white flower print. It was maybe the sexiest thing you ever owned. And you were single. Awesome.

You and Gemma walked arm in arm to your favorite lunch spot, grabbing a table on the heated patio. You giggled conspiratorially together about how her evening with Mike would go, making sure you cut her off before she got too graphic. You did not want the details. Those were private, no matter how much Gemma liked to brag.

You hit a few more shops after lunch, nabbing a new sweater for your dad, a book from your uncle’s favorite author, and some art supplies for your cousin. You just had stocking stuffers left, so you hit up the candy shop after dropping Gemma at Mike’s.

You pulled Gemma’s car into the garage and let yourself into the basement to drop your bags down in your room, figuring you would just stay hidden and out of Mr. Walker’s way for the evening. But your stomach rumbled and you realized lunch had been hours ago.

Before you could make it upstairs, you were distracted by the sounds of grunting and staccato smacks. You peered into the gym to find Mr. Walker throwing jabs and punches against a heavy bag. His back was to you and your mouth watered as you watched his shoulders and traps tense and ripple with each hit. From the amount of sweat dripping down his back and soaked into his tank and shorts, he’d clearly been at it for a while. He was shifting his feet back and forth in a little sparring dance and you were about to get caught out as he rotated around the bag. But you simply couldn’t move.

Mr. Walker had just pumped his arms preparing for the next hit as he rounded his target. He grabbed the bag to still it when he noticed you staring.

“Everything okay?” he asked, chest heaving.

You cleared your throat and suppressed the urge to turn and run.

“Everything’s, uh …just fine,” you smiled at him. “I was just on my way to grab a bite and heard the ruckus in here.”

“Sorry to sidetrack you.” He trained an intense stare on you, head tilting to the side. “But I was just about done anyway. If you don’t mind waiting, I can whip up something after I grab a shower?”

“That would be amazing, thank you Mr. Walker. Anything I can do to help get ready?”

He strode toward you now, grabbing a towel from the bench to wipe the sweat from his face. You watched rapt as a damp curl bounced back into place on his brow.

“If you want to open a bottle of wine, feel free, but no need to do any heavy lifting in the kitchen. I’ve got it covered,” he winked at you with a devilish grin. Suddenly his hand was at your neck, fingers gently caressing the chain hanging from your ear. “Are these new?”

You swallowed and nodded, unable to respond.

“They’re pretty.”

“Thank you,” you practically whispered, trying not to sink to the floor before him.

You excused yourself and made your way back upstairs, wanting to simply escape his commanding presence and seek out a snack to tide you over.

“Don’t spoil your dinner,” he called to you in the kitchen, his footsteps heavy on his way upstairs as well.

You sat with the banana you’d plucked from the fruit bowl and pondered the scene.

Would he strip down in the bedroom or the bathroom? Would he stand under the rushing water for a bit and let the warm water loosen his muscles, hand against the wall, head hanging down? Did he touch himself? He had to touch himself, but did he use a bar or gel? Loofah? Washcloth? Or was he just running his hands all over his body now? How did he dry off? Towel over his head to shuffle those curls? Or bend over and get the legs, drying up the body first? Maybe he started with a swipe across his chest? Did he wrap that towel around his waist or just bare-ass it into the closet for a pair of sweats and a t-shirt? Barefoot? Slippers?

“Are you going to eat that?”

You jumped and dropped the banana that you hadn’t even taken one bite of to the counter.

“Oh, Mr. Walker, you startled me,” you gasped.

“You did seem rather in deep thought there. Anything I can help with?”

Why you expected him to be in a ratty pair of sweats and a t-shirt you’d never know. Mr. Walker had donned an elegant pair of loose linen pants and simple cashmere turtleneck sweater that did nothing to hide the muscles he’d been training just half an hour ago. He looked delicious.

“Here,” he reached for the as yet unpeeled banana, “let’s just put this away and get you something more substantial, okay?”

You made some light small talk about your recent semester and watched as he breezed around the kitchen, pulling out packages from the fridge and heating pans on the stove. In a mere matter of minutes he had turned a burner on to boil water and chopped asparagus, tomatoes, broccoli, and yellow peppers. When the water bubbled just right he tossed in a bag of fresh cavatelli. He asked about the rest of your Christmas plans while he sauted the vegetables in a fragrant lemon sauce. After draining the pasta, he tossed it in the pan along with a bit of pasta water, stirring to thicken up the sauce before adding some lemon zest and grated parm. Boyfriends? He asked as he ladled heaping portions into two wide flat bowls and set one down in front of you at the island.

“Thank you, Mr. Walker,” you said as you picked up your fork. “No, not anymore.”

“Please,” he rested his fists on the counter across from you.”I want you to call me August.’

“Okay. August,” you replied, as a jolt of pleasure raced through you straight to your cunt.

“Good girl.”

You closed your eyes and sighed, hoping it was masked as the enjoyment of the bite you took. August Walker wanted you as much as you wanted him. There was absolutely no doubt. When you opened your eyes, his icy blue stare greeted you while his mouth pulled into a sly smirk.

He lounged against the counter across from you, dish in hand, lifting bites of pasta to his mouth and chewing while he listened to you try to explain why it simply wasn’t working out with the men at college. It seemed to you that his breath got deeper with each failed relationship.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, licking an errant drop of sauce off the corner of your mouth. “It just feels like they aren’t really into it.”

“Into what?”

“Well, me. I guess. Into what I want.”

“And what do you want?”

“Something more…” you took a deep breath to stifle the jitters. You were about to proposition your best friend’s dad. “Passionate.”

His eyes widened ever so slightly, brow raised in surprise as if he did not expect that to be your answer. He set his plate down, abandoning the last bite, and slipped his hands in the pockets of his pants. And watched you watch. Yeah. He knew. Saw it the minute you walked in the house two days ago.

You dropped your fork to your plate and slid your chair back, standing to move around the island.

“Can I help with the dishes?”

“Are dishes what you really want to be doing right now?” he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Not really, no,” you stepped closer, heart pounding in your chest. “August.”

He pulled his hands from his pockets and placed them against your cheeks, fingers wrapping around the nape of your neck, but with no pressure at all.

“So, listen. I want you to be really sure about this,” his eyes darted back and forth as he searched yours for any hint of doubt, even as you nodded. When he found none, he bent to kiss you. It was gentle at first, a simple touch, then a swipe of the tongue to ease you open and slip in. The mustache tickled your nose and the scruff felt exactly how you imagined, how you wanted it. You let your mouth fall open and welcomed the gentle probing of his tongue.You whimpered when he pulled away.

He considered you then, for what felt like an eternity before he placed a thumb on your lips and tugged down to your chin then slid his digit into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue to gather whatever moisture was available. You closed your lips around his thumb and rolled your eyes back up to him, sucking slowly on his thumb and daring him to pull it out.

He huffed and sneered and pulled his thumb from your lips and tilted your mouth back up to meet his lips crashing down on yours again. When he released your mouth, he licked his lips and then turned you so he could guide you out of the kitchen, down the hall, and up the stairs to his bedroom. He sat you on the edge of the bed and you stared up into his ocean-deep eyes.

“My god you are an angel, aren’t you?”

You shivered and gasped, then released your breath slowly. He smirked again.

“You like that? When I call you an angel?��

“I really do,” you whispered.

“Good. Then whenever you’re with me, alone, you are my Angel. Is that okay with you?”

“It is.”

He smiled at you then and pulled his sweater over his head leaving him bare chested in front of you. You raised a hand as if to drift your fingers through the bed of fur covering his chest and tapering down to his stomach. But he stopped you. Grabbed your wrist with one hand and tilted your chin to him with the other, holding your gaze steady and peering deep into your soul to confirm his observation. It was written all over your face. You wanted him to tell you. You wanted him to give you permission. You wanted to hear him say yes. So you asked.

“Can I touch you August?”

“Yes, Angel. You can.” He released your hand and face and you proceeded to touch him. You slid your palm up his stomach to his chest, your fingers snaking through his hair. He heaved a sigh, then placed his hand on your wrist again and pulled you up to standing. You peered into his eyes, bit your lower lip and slid your palm back down, turning your hand so your fingertips hit his waistband first, sneaking under the fabric.

“You sure you’re ready for that right now?” he asked, placing his hand on your wrist for the third time this evening. “I think you might want to rethink that.” He put your hand over the bulge in his pants so you could feel not only how hard he was already but how large. He was silently asking you if you’d ever had a lover whose cock was as big as his and you paused for only a beat.

You knew exactly how you wanted to start. “I’m a thousand percent sure,” you grinned salaciously up at him.

His nod was practically imperceptible, so determined not to let you see how your eagerness was affecting him. How would it look if he were losing all control?

You licked your lips and brought both hands to the drawstring tie, loosening it slowly, then dragging the fabric carefully over his engorged cock. You sat back on the bed as you pushed his pants down his legs, never once letting your eyes leave his.

Not until you were ready to take him in hand did you drop your eyes to drink him in. It was the most glorious sight you could imagine. Long, thick, hard. Jumping slightly as you touched the underside with your fingertips, then settling the weight into the palm of your hands. He had not been wrong at all. No other man you’d been with could compare to his size. And you had absolutely no doubt he knew exactly how to wield it.

You were hypnotized. Even if you’d wanted to look back into his eyes to ask permission before you took him into your mouth, you simply could not tear your gaze away. Your hunger evolved into something more now, and you leaned forward, tucking your tongue under the head while your lips wrapped around him.

You knew there was no way you’d be able to take his full length inside your mouth, but you wanted to try. Wanted to show him you were willing. You gathered your spit and let it glide your mouth over his cock, past the bulbous head and as far down the veiny shaft as you could manage. With a hand firmly gripped around the base, you held him in place while you moved your mouth up and down, letting your tongue drag and circle. You could do this for hours. He might have let you. But the minute you let his tip hit the back of your throat, causing a small gag reflex and a few tears to well in your eyes, he pulled you off.

“Not yet. I’ll have you undone, but not yet.”

You blinked the tears of pleasure quickly away, confused. Charlie had always loved to come in your mouth, knowing an early release would allow him to last longer with you.

“Was it not alright?” you questioned, unsure now if all those boys had been lying when they said you were the best.

“Oh, Angel. It was divine. Do you see how fucking hard I am for you? And you’ll do that again for me. I’ll insist on it. But I want to drink you in myself, first.”

He asked you to undress. You were suddenly reminded of your spur of the moment purchase and would give anything to put yourself on display in it for him. He sensed your cautious excitement, but mistook it for hesitation.

“What is it, Angel? Are you having doubts?” he asked in a gentler tone than he’d been using since you arrived in the bedroom.

“No, August. Nothing like that. I just, well…”

He furrowed his brows at you and urged you to finish your confession.

“I mean, I want this, but I really wasn’t prepared for it to happen. And it’s embarrassing to say, but I have something I’d love to put on for you. Can I do that?”

His relief shifted to a wolfish grin, as he nodded and shifted out of your way. “Please don’t take too long.” He took himself in hand and began to slowly stroke. “I don’t want to take care of this myself.”

You nodded eagerly and rose to stand before him. It took every ounce of restraint not to sprint from the room in an effort to return to him as quickly as possible, but that didn’t feel dignified. You weren’t going to start acting like a schoolgirl in front of August Walker.

Your legs carried you purposefully through the house to your room where you undressed, put your hair up, and quickly showered. After drying off, you fished the romper out of the shopping bags on your bed, tore off the tag carefully, and stepped into the silky piece. Gemma was right, it felt so very luxurious.

A shock of cold rushed through you. How would you ever face Gemma after tonight? It wasn’t as if you’d been scheming for this to happen. But you weren’t saying no, either. You wanted this so badly. Another deep breath. You’d just have to deal with the consequences later. There was no way you were stopping now.

You searched through your luggage for your long, white crochet cardigan with the front tie. You decided to brush your teeth quickly and took a few extra minutes to dab some of your favorite perfume along your neck and wrists. A makeup touch up seemed useless at this point, but you did fix your hair.

You took a final look at yourself in the mirror and blew out the breath you found yourself holding. This was happening.

You climbed the stairs with purpose, noting the low seductive music drifting from the top floor. You smiled at the thought that August liked to use sound to get into the mood as well. You stopped at the door to his bedroom, just as he was coming out of his own en suite, clothed now in a pair of dark blue silk pajama pants that did little to hide his ongoing erection.

“Oh Angel. I thought you’d gotten lost again,” he teased. “Come. Let me look at you.”

He reached out his hands as he moved across the room toward you. He grasped one of your hands and raised it over your head, twirling you around once slowly then dropping your arm as you came back around to face him and tracing his hand down your throat and chest, toying with the bow at the front of your sweater.

“Is this what you wanted to show me?”

You nodded, wide-eyed, hoping he really loved it as much as he seemed to.

“Well, don’t you look good for me?. It’s a pity this won’t stay on long.” He pulled on the strings and slipped a hand inside the sweater, grazing your side as he wrapped his arm around your back and pulled you close for a withering kiss. He palmed a breast with the other hand, rubbing against the hard nub straining through the soft fabric. He pressed the small of your back and moved you inches closer to him, his stiff cock jutting against you.

As he released the kiss, he pushed the sweater off your shoulders and let it drop to the floor behind you, once again taking up your hand and pulling you with him as he moved back to the bed. This time, he sat, legs spread wide so you could step between them.

“This really is very pretty,” he toyed with the thin straps of the romper, sliding a finger under the lace and brushing his knuckle against the top of your breast. “Would you like to keep it on a little longer?”

“I would.”

“Very well then.”

He pulled the straps down your shoulders a few inches tempting you with a state of full undress, then replaced them and moved his hands to your hips, smoothing them around to cup your ass and squeeze. He kept one hand on your lower back, pulling the other back around to the front before pushing a hip just off-kilter. You were now on a slight diagonal to him and that allowed him to more easily slide his hand off your hip and down into the crease of your thigh before he slipped a finger under the silk to trace along your folds.

You watched his eyes darken as he discovered the moisture already accumulated, waiting for him. You bit your lip as he turned his gaze to your eyes.

“You are already so wet, Angel. You’re hungry for this aren’t you?”

“Yes, August. I want you.”

He kept his eyes glued to yours as he dipped two fingers inside your core and you gasped.

“And I want you to fuck yourself on my hand. Will you do that for me Angel?”

Your whole body was buzzing now. No one had ever prioritized your pleasure like this. If you’d had your mouth on a boyfriend’s cock, that’s where it was staying until he came in your mouth or pulled out and slipped inside your pussy. But giving you control of your own orgasm? Exhilarating.

His fingers were curled inside you, stroking and stretching you, smoothing along your walls and seeking out the most delicate spaces as you began to shift your hips against his hand. The heat spread through your body, you relaxed and sank your weight into his hand, your cunt swallowing his fingers deeper. You swept a hand under the curve of your tit, squeezing gently at the hardened nipple while you grabbed a hold of his wrist with your other hand. Using the leverage of his grip, you rocked back and forth into his palm, tossing your head back when he graced you with another curl of his fingers. He had found your spot and was going to exploit that fact, teasing you with a gentle press before spreading his fingers wide inside you.

“Please, August,” you begged.

“Please what Angel?” he smirked. “This is all you.”

You hauled your head back to stare down at him while you undulated your hips, searching for a way to position his fingers where you needed them again.

“Would you put another finger in? Please August?”

He smiled and obliged and you shivered with pleasure, finally beginning to feel the fullness and pressure you needed to reach your peak. If you could just…You snaked your hand around his wrist, moving so you could drag your thumb down beside his and urge it up to the top of your clit. You pressed his thumb into you, guiding his motion and pulling away only when you were sure he would continue on his own.

With his thumb brushing over your pearl, you rocked harder on his fingers, shifting his hand so he had no choice but to curl up into your spot and you held his hand firm in position when he did, praying to all the gods you knew that he would remain right there for just this moment longer.

He stood as soon as you came apart, catching you with an arm around your back as he slowly withdrew his fingers from your pulsing pussy.

“Absolutely gorgeous.” He kissed at the heat radiating from your cheeks, then sought your mouth and traced your lips with his tongue, opening you up to him and licking in deep. You moaned as you imagined him doing that again, lower.

“Yes, I know. You’ll get that too,” he declared, pulling away from the kiss. “What do you say, Angel? How do you feel about taking this off now that I’ve seen you so pretty in it?”

You smoothed your hands down your body, enjoying the sensual feel of the silk, still reeling from your orgasm. You nodded as he slipped the straps from your shoulders once more, this time pushing the elastic waistband over your hips and dropping the material to the floor.

August grabbed your ass then slid his hands to your thighs, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he turned to face the bed. His kiss was deep and hard as he climbed one knee and then the other onto the mattress, before easing you on your back. With your legs pinned around his waist, he ran his hands along your calves and up to the crease at the top of your thighs where he hooked his thumbs and pressed his fingertips into the flesh of your hips.

You were fully on display for him now. Nothing to stop his eyes from devouring every inch of your body, kindling the flames still licking at your skin. He eased his thumbs toward your apex, caressing your folds and massaging your slick along the edges. He let one thumb circle around your clit, pressing hard when you arched into it. He dipped the same thumb into your core, then withdrew and placed it in his mouth, licking you off his thumb like ice cream and you melted at the site of it.

You felt adored and basked in his worship, tossing your arms over your head and arching your back to press your chest out towards him. He slid his hands up your waist and over your belly to cup and knead your breasts. When he pinched, the pressure was just the other side of comfortable and you hissed with the pain. He eased up, rubbing gently for a moment before squeezing again, with the same intensity. The salacious leer on his side-cocked head sent a wave of pleasure along with the pain and you furrowed your brow and whimpered with content. Satisfied, he let you go and leaned down to kiss you again.

He unhooked your legs and directed you to the top of the bed. You eased back against the tall, plush gray velvet headboard, positioning yourself right in the middle of the California king bed.

“I’m going to eat that delicious pussy of yours now, Angel. And I don’t want you to touch me while I do. I want to try something I think you will enjoy. Will you let me?”

You furrowed your brow and nodded reluctantly, unsure what it would mean.

August climbed up to the head of the bed, knees straddling your waist as he reached behind the headboard. Your heart beat noticeably faster when you saw the thick strands of silk cord he pulled over the top. Holding them both in one hand by the plush lined leather cuffs at the ends of each, he peered down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Have you ever been restrained, Angel?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and shook your head slowly once, chin lowered with a shyness you hadn’t yet felt this evening. August grasped your jaw to tilt you towards him.

“Never be embarrassed, sweet thing. This isn’t for everyone. Believe me, I know.” He dropped one line and your chin at the same time, holding the second cuff in front of you and caressing the line. “You have options here. Let me explain. If you want, you could simply hold onto the rope. It’s soft and won’t burn or cut your hands when you squeeze tight. But the risk here is how easy it would be for you to drop it when you are unable to control yourself.”

You blinked with anticipation for the next option, then closed your eyes when he gave you a few more.

“You could always wrap the rope around your wrists or use the cuffs with a loose buckle as well, but still…” He unbuckled the cuff. “I think your best option, the one that will ensure you are able to enjoy every minute of my mouth on you, would be for you to let me tighten these around your wrists.”

He held the cuff wide for you and waited as you opened your eyes to give him an answer. With a wave of confidence surging through your body, you lifted your arm for him.

“Good girl.” He pulled the strap through the buckle and found the right fit with ease. Firm, not too tight, but certainly not loose at all. He tugged your arm down to demonstrate how little reach you had now and raised an eyebrow again with a last chance to beg off. You met his question with an unwavering gaze and he closed and opened his eyelids slowly with a smile before attaching a cuff to your other wrist.

You tested this one yourself with a tug and another thick swallow to calm your nerves and remind yourself you wanted this. So badly.

You could leave your arms winged back toward the headboard or bring your hands in front of your face, with elbows bent close by your side, but you’d never be able to touch him while he was tucked between your legs. As he began to retreat, you reached reflexively for him, even though you were unable to catch him as the rope went taut.

As if reading your mind, he bent then and allowed you to place your hands on either side of his face while he kissed first your brow, then your cheeks below each eye, the corners of your lips. He finally slotted his mouth against yours and you leaned into it and kissed back hard.

You let out a soft whine when he finally pulled away, but he pressed a finger to your lips to quiet you, then held it there as he eased down your inflamed body, rotating soft kisses and sharp nips.

No high school boyfriend had ever gone down on you. And Charlie wasn’t the first in college, but he’d been the best so far. August blew him out of the water.

When he arrived at his destination, he pulled his hand down your throat and over your chest, fingertips skimming your belly and lifting away right before he reached your mound.

He stared at first, eyes devouring the site before him. He tilted his head first one way then the other, as if trying to determine the perfect approach. He pushed your knees wide again when you began to tip them in, nervous about the scrutiny. When he finally eased closer, you closed your eyes in anticipation, but the warm wet sensation never came. You felt only his hands slipping under and around your bent legs, fingers digging into the tops of your thighs and holding you in place. You opened your eyes when you heard him inhale deeply and saw his own eyes flutter shut and open again. As he exhaled, the air drifted and teased, first warming and then cooling across your delicate skin.

He turned to nuzzle into the crook of your thigh, nipping and licking lightly on first one side and then the other. When his beard brushed your skin, you shuddered. It was an exquisite tickle, prickly and soft at once and everything you’d imagined. He pulled his arms from under you then, smoothing his hands along the insides of your thighs and pressing your knees wide and still he wouldn’t touch you where you ached for him.

“Please, August,” you pleaded, head straining toward him.

“Patience, little Angel.”

Only when you placed your head back against the headboard, did he dip low again, still nuzzling gently around the edges of your desire. You felt a brush of fingertips down your inner thigh and the back of a finger running up one side of your aching cunt and down the other. Then a finger along both sides, smoothing up then drifting down. At the bottom he captured your pussy lips between the knuckles of two fingers and squeezed, gently opening and closing and finally providing some of the friction you craved. But as soon as you tried to arch into it, he stopped and pulled his hand away.

“I know what you think you need, Angel. I’m here to tell you there’s more. We’ll get there. And I should have said something sooner. It would be better for you to hear this in a less vulnerable state, but if you want me to stop, at any time, I will. Do you understand?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to articulate even the word yes properly, but he wanted to hear it.

“Say it.”

“I understand August,” you spoke softly, then cleared your throat and responded with more conviction. “If I want you to stop, I’ll tell you.”

He placed a hand on your belly now, heel of his palm pressing just above your clit and rocking back yet still avoiding the tender spot. Then he lifted his palm and swept his finger toward your thigh again, massaging the flesh gently between his fingers and thumb. He did the same on the other side and finally, finally, because you were being so good and laying still for him, he eased a knuckle into your slit and held it there.

And then he craned his neck closer, pulled his finger up through your folds, and let his tongue drag in the spot where his finger was. He pressed his thumb onto your clit and rubbed small circles while his tongue lapped at the slick already forming. When he pulled his mouth away, he slid his thumb down inside you, deep and then shallow as he returned to pressing at your clit.

All you wanted was to lift your hips up to meet his pressure, but you sighed out a low moan instead, trying to be good for him. As if to reward your self-control, he let the tip of his tongue meet his thumb at your sensitive nub and then pulled his hand away so he could close his mouth and suck. When he pulled his lips away, he tugged the kernel with him for a moment before letting it go, then rubbing it with his thumb again.

When his mouth met your pussy once more, it was to press his tongue wide and flat into your folds before curling the tip up and in. He repeated this a few more times, tipping deeper and deeper each time while his thumb still strummed along your button before he finally plunged the length of his tongue right into your core and just like that wrapped his lips around your clit to pull out and away.

You closed your eyes, so he couldn’t see them begging him to put his mouth back where you wanted it, but the anticipation was stoking a fire and you didn’t want to put it out just yet. You felt his fingers push up along the soaking path, tipping into the bud and then dragging back down, middle finger dipping in on the return now. He ran this finger up and down, in and out, circling, sliding, coaxing, and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore and you were about to break, he pressed his other hand low on your belly and held your hips in place, like he just knew you were about to shift and search for more friction.

When he could sense you would be good for him, he moved the hand from your belly to cup under your thigh before adding a second finger and rubbing them both furiously from side to side briefly, before splitting his fingers and spreading your labia wide. He dove in to kiss your lower lips, tracing the wide opening before licking in deep and you gasped your eyes open at the memory of his earlier kiss and promise.

As if on cue, any tension you’d been holding in your body at the thought of being tied up, forced to remain still, and eaten out while you couldn’t fully participate just vanished. You sank infinitesimally further into the bed, your arms dropped by fractions of millimeters, and your legs fell open even wider.

August knew it. And he rewarded you for it. His mouth was on you in earnest now, kissing, sucking, nibbling, licking, lapping, prodding. His fingers were inside you and on you and around you. Two fingers twisted inside, pressing down and spreading you open. One tongue laved at your core, coaxing the heat and juice from you. When it came, you thought he would stop because this is when they stop and climb up your belly and slide their cocks inside you and grind into the wet wet heat, but he didn’t stop.

No he kept going. He kissed your quivering pussy and tongued along the folds, gathering up as much of your essence as he could. He spun those two fingers up now, caressing your walls and seeking out that most favorable spot. The one he already had you coming on earlier. The one he made you make yourself come on. God, what did it matter who was doing what?

The fact of the matter was, August Walker was giving you your third orgasm of the night with nothing more than his mouth and hands and he still hadn’t let you touch him for very long with either your fingers or your mouth. And he certainly hadn’t placed in cock deep inside your aching cunt.

But what he was doing was continuing to worship at your altar. Well past the point that you could think straight. Was this now four or five? It was all a blur and all you knew was that if August didn’t stop, you might explode. Suddenly it was a problem that you couldn’t move your arms much past your shoulders.

August was past caring about you thrashing your hips with one aftershock after another. Didn’t mind about having to hook his arms under your thighs and tug you back down the bed each time you tried to grasp the wrist cords and pull yourself off his face. He only wanted you to stop straining so he could show you how much better it could be. He wanted you to relax just like you had right before he’d really started in on you in earnest.

You felt his hand snake up your belly between your legs, creep over the swell of your breast, and rest against your collarbone. At first you resisted the weight, but then you welcomed it. Wondered if it might not be better if he just climbed his whole body right up on top of yours and crushed you into the mattress.

But he wasn’t going to do that, because instead he was going to ensure you came one more time while he scissored his fingers inside you and licked you into oblivion. When you screamed his name, he grinned a kiss against your thigh, crawled out from between your knees, and gently, ever so carefully, eased your legs together and unbent them.

He traced his hand back up your heaving belly and chest, wrapped his fingers around your throat and tilted your neck towards him.

“So, so beautiful when you come, Angel. I wanted it to last forever for you.”

You tasted yourself on his lips and tongue and whimpered into his mouth because you suddenly realized you wanted that too and it was too late.

“Is it too late?” you whispered and he chuckled at you.

“You should pace yourself.” He knelt beside you and unbuckled your wrists, kissing each one as he freed you from the cuffs, then dropping to his back beside you. “Thank you, for opening yourself to me.”

“How in the world are you thanking me after that?” you laughed, still shaking from the explosions, but moving toward your next goal. “And also... Can I get back to this now?”

You began to scoot down between his legs, dragging his silky pants with you and tossing them to the floor.

“If you’re sure you're ready.”

You trailed your fingers up his thighs as you moved back into position on your belly. He was still hard as rock when you reached for him. You licked your lips at the sight, then sent your eyes straight to his while your mouth wrapped around the tip of his cock with a smile. You worked him slow and methodically, tonguing along his length, tasting his warmth. You were salivating for this man, dribbling spit to help ease your tour of his member, and yet you knew you’d never reach the base. You let your hand twist around him, squeezing and grabbing while you worked your mouth down to meet it.

“Your mouth feels so good on me, Angel. You like doing that, don’t you?”

You peered at him through your lashes and nodded, attempting another wide smile to agree. His hands smoothed up your arms, over your shoulders, and into your hair. You didn’t need him to hold your head against his cock, but he grunted and shifted his hips to press deeper into your mouth. You would have done this for him all night. Let him lay back and enjoy being worshiped the way he had worshiped you.

But with one hand on your nape and one right on top of your head, August helped himself to the pleasure you were offering without hesitation and began fucking your mouth in earnest. With each thrust, you felt him edge deeper until he finally found the back of your throat.

“There you go,” he grunted. “That’s a good girl. Taking me so deep.”

You could do nothing more than open wide and let him drive, feeling the saliva drip from your mouth with no opportunity to swallow. He set a steady, punishing pace and while you were enjoying it, you also couldn’t help but imagine this must be what your aching pussy would feel like shortly. Your tears were flowing freely now, too, spurred on by the constant stimulation.

Suddenly, he pulled you off and you were confused for one brief, maddening moment until you heard him command you.

“Hands and knees.”

You pressed yourself up as he shifted to his knees as well before returning his hands to your head and dragging your mouth down his cock once again. You felt his grip on your hair at your neck tighten, his pace even faster than before. In just moments, with your watering eyes rolled up as far as they could go to watch him sneer down at you, you felt his release coat the back of your throat, hot and salty, as he came with a growl.

He hauled you up, shifting his knees forward to meet you, pressing his chest against you, arms wrapped around your back as he kissed the tears from your cheeks and praised you. He settled back against the headboard, taking you with him and scooping your legs over his, nestling your head against his chest and holding you close. You could feel his heart pounding, the intensity matched only by the speed at which yours beat. His fingers traced along your spine, caressing your shoulder and at the same time he held your hip on his lap and tortured you with tender touches along the flesh of your thighs and legs.

You trailed your fingers over his chest and angled your head to nip at his neck.

“Was that okay?” he asked, uncharacteristically soft. You bit the urge to respond with sarcasm.

“I loved every second of it.” You punctuated your response with a kiss, cupping his cheek and tonguing his mouth open to lick into the softness.

He groaned and kissed you back for what felt like forever until you began to feel a nudge at your thigh. You reached down between your heated bodies to find him, wrapping your hands around his girth and stroking him to full erection. Without breaking the kiss you began to shift, sliding a leg to either side of his hips. Just as you had raised up, ready to slide him deep inside you, he gripped your shoulders tight and pulled away.

“Wait.”

“Why?”

Without answering, he easily lifted and deposited you on your back beside him, before rolling to the nightstand beside the bed. He pulled out a foil packet and bottle of lube.

“Because I care about you.” He tore the packet and pulled out the condom then squeezed a few drops of lube in before rolling it over his engorged length. He added a few more drops and pumped a few times, before dropping to his back again beside you.

“Now, where were we?” he grinned.

He slipped his arm underneath you and pulled you to him, guiding your leg over his hip again. On your knees, you took him in hand but before you could position his tip at your entrance, he pressed two fingers deep in your slit, massaging and stroking, scissoring you wide. You felt the heat building again and dropped your head back with a moan, still dragging your hand up and down his length. Your pussy was squelching with the juice he was coaxing and you felt his hand slip out then wrap around yours as you both directed him inside you.

With just the tip, you already felt fuller than you ever had and you sat with that feeling for a moment, hands still wrapped around the rest of his cock and keeping you from sliding all the way down.

Once you felt yourself relax around him, you nudged his hand away with your own and began to sink, slowly, deliberately, savoring the sensation. His hands gripped your hips all the while as he gazed in wonder and concern.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fucking fantastic,” you replied, rocking back slightly to view the point of his disappearance inside you.

“Do you remember what I told you before?’ he asked, a little more heat and darkness creeping into his voice.

“I can stop you at any time.”

“Yes. And if you can’t get the words out, pinch me.”

You were going to nod your understanding, but remembered he liked to hear it as much as you did. “Yes, August.”

“Good girl.”

August began a slow roll of his ups, nudging up into you and shifting you off balance for a moment. You caught yourself with your hands on his chest, then sat back up to start a slow grind of your own. For several long minutes it was just you riding him slowly, like an easy afternoon stroll, completely in sync with his movements.

When he began to pump faster, you braced your hands on his legs behind you trying to hold on for dear life. He gripped you by the hips and held you in place while bucked and then he ran his hands up your sides and hauled you down to his chest. He wrapped his arms around your back and held you so close, kissed you so hard, rocked even deeper into you than you ever thought possible and just when you thought it was about to hit you like a ton of bricks, he flipped you to your back.

He started a slower pace now, still holding you close, still ravishing your mouth. But when you wrapped a leg around his back, he lifted himself onto his arms and looked down between you then over to the leg at his side. With a devilish grin, he reached back and under that leg, shifting it up over his shoulder. He picked up the pace, returning to the steady jackhammering you’d experienced while on top. And while you didn’t think deeper was possible, here he was, moving your limbs around to find more space. He pulled your other leg up now, no longer leaning forward, but up on his knees, holding you open before him while he pounded away.

This was more than you’d ever felt before. This was precision fucking at it finest and you were barely holding on.

“You can let go, Angel. You can come around my cock, squeeze me hard. I won’t break,” he commended you, letting go of one leg and reaching down to massage your clit again with his thumb. That was all it took.

“Oh shit. Fuck. Fuck, August, Fuck!”

“That’s it, Angel. I can feel you right now,” he growled. “Feel all the heat bursting inside you, feel your walls squeezing around me. Can you feel it?”

“Yes, yes, fuck yes. My god. Fuuuuuuuuuck! Fuck! Please,” you pleaded, panting and feeling like you were about to pass out. “Please.”

“Please what, Angel?”

“Please…” you didn’t exactly want him to stop but you weren’t sure how much more you could take either.

“Do you need me to stop?”

“I want you to come. Please August.”

He clenched his jaw and gave a few more hard thrusts before pulling out and flipping you one more time to your hands and knees. You could barely hold yourself up, sinking to your forearms, head into the mattress. But your ass was still in the air and your pussy was still on display for him and he took you one more time. He lined himself up again behind you, sheathed himself in one long simple stroke, holding still for one moment.

“You're still coming, I can feel it. God, you are amazing. You’re taking me so good.”

Incoherent babble is all he got in return. Even if you’d wanted him to stop, you could no longer form full words, let alone sentences. And how would you ever find the strength to reach back to even graze his skin, let alone pinch it? Whatever. You were riding a wave of the longest high you’d ever been on while August resumed his magnificent assault on you.

After a few more strokes, you felt him swell even larger than he already was, filling you up more fully than he already had. With one final animal roar, he released himself with a hand pressing against your lower back, slowing stilling as he filled the condom inside you. You shuddered with an aftershock and wanted to drop to your belly with him on top and never pull that blanket off.

After just a short moment, you felt his hand at your entrance, fingers drifting lightly through your folds before he gathered himself and the condom in hand and pulled all the way out for good. He pushed against you lightly to urge you flat. You vaguely registered words of praise coming from his mouth, but you were so spun off into oblivion you couldn’t be sure what they were.

From some far off place, you heard water running, then felt a dip beside you, and the wet warmth of a tender caress between your shaking legs. Somehow, you were maneuvered to your back to receive another gentle swipe, before you felt his lips press against your mouth, his tongue seeking your own.

It took everything you had to peel your eyes open and meet his gaze.

“Is that what you meant by passion?” he asked.

“It’s a start.”

August chuckled and gently eased himself to the side of the bed, swinging his legs off and standing. He tilted his head from side to side, loosening a few kinks before he strode with purpose into the bathroom. When he returned, he held out a blue silk robe and helped you into it once you stood from the bed. He tied the belt around your waist, then reached to the floor for his matching pants. As he stood, he gathered you in his arms for another kiss before he took your hand and led you back downstairs.

Trailing behind him, you were pleasantly surprised to find yourself deposited on the deep plush conversation sofa. August flipped on the switch to the gas fireplace and leaned over to drop one more kiss on your lips, then told you to sit tight.

The warm glow of the fire mesmerized and hypnotized you, not that it was hard. You had been overstimulated and now the exhaustion was settling in. You felt high, completely spaced out. You had never felt so thoroughly and completely fucked in your entire short life.

August returned a few moments later. Or was it hours? You had no idea. All you knew was that he placed a live edge wooden serving tray holding a few bottles of water, some fruit and cheese, a few small bowls of olives, almonds, and fig jam, some cut baguette, two champagne flutes, and a bottle of bubbly on the low ottoman in front of you, then eased himself onto the couch next to you.

“Let’s get you hydrated,” he leaned forward and grabbed a bottle from the tray.

“How did you know I’d want that?” you teased, harkening back to your first night home.

“You are a cheeky one, aren’t you?” August opened the bottle and pulled you close, tipping the cool, sweet water into your open mouth, eyes watching you closely to see when you’d had enough.

“Only for you,” you purred, reaching for the bottle so you could take another drink for yourself. When you pulled the bottle away from your lips, August bent to steal another kiss from you.

“A little dangerous, too.” He shifted a knuckle along your jaw, catching the soft indent in your chin to bring your face back to his. He kissed you for what felt like a millenia and you could have stayed that way all night. And then it hit you.

“Dangerous how?” you asked, when you pulled away reluctantly.

August closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, still leaning forward from the broken kiss. He sat up straighter when he exhaled and opened his eyes.

“My sweet Angel. I really didn’t mean to spoil our moment, but in a million years could you ever imagine this night could happen again?”

He held your gaze, and wouldn't let you turn away. You could see the anguish in his eyes. This wasn’t a lie.

“But why would…?”

“You deserve to know the passion you crave. I wanted to help you learn about your desire. You are a strong, intelligent, thoughtful, and gorgeous woman. I wanted you to see you are capable of getting everything you want. You only need to be sure of it. And perhaps understand you can ask for more.”

“But I want you.”

August didn’t reply immediately and in the silence you knew he was thinking of exactly the same person you now were. If you were ever going to keep this night a secret from her, you’d have to make it a solitary event with no hope of a repeat. How were you ever going to deny your craving?

“Come here.” August set your bottle of water aside and drew you into his arms, leaning back against the sofa as you relaxed onto his chest. He kissed the top of your head and ran a hand slowly up and down your back.

“This isn’t fair,” you murmured.

“Life rarely is, Angel. Come on, let’s just enjoy the time we do have. What d’you say, hmm?”

You nodded and sniffed away the beginnings of your tears. August gently sat you up, then prepared small bites of food from the tray and brought them to your lips. You soaked in all the attention, certain you’d never feel so safe and loved again in your life.

With some energy back, you felt your mood lighten. August was right. You should make the most of what time you have left. You reached for the champagne bottle, peeled off the foil wrap, and untwisted the thin metal cage surrounding the cork. August chuckled as he watched you struggle with the cork, so you stuck out your tongue and handed the bottle to him.

“Please?” He popped the cork with ease and poured the golden liquid for you both.

“A toast?” He raised his glass to yours and watched closely as you mulled it over.

“To one night only.”

“One night only.” He smiled with a nod and watched as you took a sip, then stole a kiss before taking a drink from his own glass. He grabbed a strawberry from the tray and held it to your lips as you took a bite. “Now another drink.”

You almost squealed as the flavors exploded in your mouth.

“When you try this on your own, be sure to get an extra-dry champagne,” August cautioned. “Moet brut won’t work with this flavor combination.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind when I replenish my champagne cooler at school,” you teased. “What about this one?” You took another bite of strawberry and a sip of champagne, then leaned in for a kiss letting the flavors swirl in your mouth alongside his tongue. August continued the kiss, even as he set his glass aside and grabbed for yours to set it down as well.

He eased you to your back on the couch and slipped the tie loose from your robe before he finally broke the kiss.

“That’s also a good one. You’re quite the quick study.” He pushed the fabric aside, baring your chest and stomach, then appraised you for a moment before running his fingers over your breasts and down your belly, letting his mouth follow the trail.

You let out a soft moan and spread your legs involuntarily as he shifted to the floor and tugged your hips around so your ass was hanging off the sofa to give him better access. He let your legs rest over his shoulders and you sighed as he once again slipped his tongue and fingers through your folds, ravishing your core to bring another orgasm crashing over you.

You barely had a moment to recover before you felt the belt of your robe sliding out from underneath you and in a swift heartbeat, August had you flipped over, urging you onto your knees on the cushions with your arms leaning on the back of the couch. You peered back at him, while he shifted the fabric of the robe over your back, letting it drape off to the side and leaving your bare ass and legs completely exposed to him. He watched you carefully as he rubbed a large hand over one cheek, then drew back and spanked you hard. He was already caressing the red mark before the shocked gasp left your lips. He quirked an eyebrow at you in a silent question. Again?

You pondered the feeling and decided that yes, August Walker could spank your ass. You turned your head to peer over the back of the couch and jutted your hips back towards him wordlessly asking for more, which he gladly gave. The sharp smacks were sometimes single, sometimes doubled up, but always tempered with a gentle caress before he dealt another blow.

You were dripping for him. When he dragged two fingers through your soft petals to gather the nectar, you glanced back to see him wrap his lips around his fingers and lick your taste off them. Then he reached his hand in the pockets of his pants and withdrew another foil square before dropping his pants altogether.

“You planned this,” you cried in feigned scandal.

“I hoped for it. Not the same thing,” he gently replied, rolling the condom over his swollen length. “But it’s always good to be prepared. Speaking of which…”

August reached forward to grasp the silk belt he’d tossed aside, then drew one of your arms back behind you.

“May I have your other arm, Angel?”

You offered it without hesitation, shifting off the back of the couch so that all your weight was now on your knees. You felt him loop the belt around both wrists separately before he wrapped the tie a few more times around both. Holding the binds of your wrists in one hand, he used the other to guide his sheathed cock to your soaked pussy, gliding easily into your core. Once his hips met yours, he started a commanding pace, pumping in and out of you all the while holding you in place with your hands.

As if he could feel you losing control, unable to stay up straight any longer, August let the belt slips a few inches through his fingers before gripping tight again, giving you enough room to bend forward and rest your chest on the back of the couch while he continued to pump in and out of you with a devastating pace, the juice from you squelching around his cock.

“You fucking take me so good, Angel. Such a pretty pussy. Can you hear her talking to me? She says the sweetest things.”

He set a hand on your low back and pressed his against your stretched entrance, letting it drag along his cock as he moved back and forth and gathering some of your slick on the pad. You felt him ease his hand up, fingers pressing into the flesh of your asscheeks before he teased around your puckered rim with his thumb. When the moan escaped your mouth he knew he was on the right path and wasted no more time. He slipped his thumb right into your hole and held on while you bucked back against him.

“Fuck yeah, you like that, don’t you? Fucking my cock so good. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. August, fuck yes.” You could barely form more words so moans of pleasure and squeals of delight were all he heard but they were enough to spur him on and lead him down the path of his own release just as soon as he felt yours.

With one practiced tug, he released you from the bind and eased himself out of your still pulsing pussy, then guided you to stand before him, pressing kisses along your shoulders and neck while he pulled the spent condom off his softening dick. He grabbed a napkin from the tray and wrapped it in a wad before spinning you to face him and kissing you hard.

“Let’s get cleaned up.”

He led you upstairs one last time, abandoning the snack platter and half-full champagne bottle. He took you through to his bathroom, turned on the warm spray jets of the tiled shower, then disrobed you completely. You stepped into the glass cabinet and turned to grab his arm to bring him with you.

Without prompting, he grabbed a bar of the same bright citrus scented soap you always found in your guest room and lathered you up. If you weren’t about to fall asleep on your feet, you’d succumb so easily to the way his fingers danced across your skin, caressing every nook and cranny like they knew the way by heart. He spun you into the water to rinse and set to cleaning himself.

And now you had your answer. It was body wash, with a woodsy, pine scent. He rubbed it all over his body with his bare hands. He watched you watching, mesmerized at the way his muscles moved and the carefree way he gathered his own package and lathered it with suds before shifting you gently out of the way and rinsing off under the cascading water.

Yes, he leaned an arm against the wall, but that could be just because you were with him and he wanted to encase you while he kissed you, tongue probing gently and mouths moving in unison. He groaned as he pulled away.

“We’d better get some sleep.”

The fluffy towel he dried you with was heavenly against your skin. He toweled himself as well before leading you back to his bed.

“Are you comfortable sleeping here with me tonight?” he asked. “If you’d rather wake up in your own bed, I’d understand.”

It was uncharacteristically sweet, the way August was now wondering how you would feel in the morning, knowing you could never have him again.

“I’d like to stay with you for tonight, if that’s okay.”

“More than okay.” He pulled the covers back and slipped in, holding them up for you to join him. Wrapped in his arms, head against his chest, you found yourself drifting off faster than you would have liked. You loved pillow talk, but supposed you’d managed that with him before, during, and a little after downstairs by the fire. Besides, pillow talk was for lovers. Which you were now assured you were not.

You woke later than you’d planned, your body still clearly recovering from the unexpected vigorous activity. August was not with you and though you knew the morning would not be a time to whisper sweet nothings, still you’d hoped to wake in his arms, just as you’d fallen asleep. The robe he’d lent you last night was draped across the foot of the bed and your lingerie was folded neatly on a chair nearby.

You shrugged into the robe and grabbed your things, then headed downstairs where you could smell coffee already brewed but found no sign of August in the kitchen. You continued down to your room where you realized you’d left your phone all night. Shit.

When you picked it up, there were about ten messages from Gemma and you braced yourself as you opened the app to read them. Yes, in the end she wondered where the fuck you were and why you weren’t answering her but there was no urgent call to get her immediately. The night with Mike seemed like it had gone exactly as planned.

She only wanted to let you know Mike’s friends were throwing a New Year’s party and of course you were invited. Mike even had a university friend coming in from out of town for the party and Gemma wanted to set you up with him. The guy in the picture she sent looked cute enough. Apparently he sailed and had dark, wavy hair, a little shorter than Mike’s. His smile was amazing, but to your eyes, he was a boy. He would never compare, you were sure.

Just as you were contemplating how to let him down gently, your phone rang and Gemma’s number appeared. You took a deep breath and hoped nothing in your voice would betray you.

“Hey!” you answered brightly.

“Whoa, too much. Too loud. Calm down.” Gemma was hungover, for sure.

“Sorry,” you quieted. “Everything okay?”

“I think I drank a liquor store last night. Mike’s still passed out, but I need my bed. Can you come get me?”

“Now? Yeah. Of course. Let me just get my shoes on. See you in thirty?”

Gemma agreed, though she wished you’d ignore some of the speed signs along the way and you laughed, promising to grab a Vitamin Water from the fridge before you left.

You noticed another message come through just as you hung up with Gemma. August was in his office. He didn’t want you to think you’d been abandoned, but he had to get an early start for meetings and wanted to let you sleep in. You texted him you were off to get Gemma. Chat bubbles appeared and disappeared a few times before a solitary frowny face finally appeared.

With no idea how to respond and not a lot of time to spare hashing it out, you dressed quickly, grateful you’d already washed off last night’s extravagance. You grabbed the keys to Gemma’s car, grabbed a water from the gym, and headed back out to the garage.

Gemma was still too dazed to inquire much about why you were absent from your phone last night and you didn’t offer any conversation about it. The whole drive was pretty quiet except for the radio. August was gone when you got back and while Gemma couldn’t care less, you were a little let down. You’d hoped you’d be able to at least sit with him a bit while Gemma slept off the rest of her hangover, but that wasn’t to be.

He kept himself pretty scarce the rest of the week, too, texting Gemma he wouldn’t be home for dinner any of the nights until you were scheduled to head back home for Christmas Eve. Four long-suffering nights and days filled with late breakfasts by the pool and dinner and drinks in town with Mike and other friends. You barely got to say goodbye to August as he breezed off to one final meeting the morning of the 24th before Gemma came upstairs to grab coffee.

Christmas was low key with just the six of you at your parents. No other relatives were traveling in and no one else nearby had invited you over for anything special. Gemma always celebrated alone with her dad, too. Your aunt wanted to take you and your mom to the sales the day after Christmas and that was an all day, exhausting affair. You were in bed by 9.

Over the next five days, you visited with Gemma and Mike, old high school friends, and your parents a few times. But never August. Gemma said as wonderful as Christmas was with him, he was stressing about the deal and spending all his time at the office since the day after. He needed to get the deal signed by the 31st at the absolute latest. And his company’s New Year’s Eve gala was set for the Grand Hotel downtown. He’d offered you both tickets, but Gemma really wanted to hang out with Mike.

Will was nice enough, if a little on the arrogant side. He was a good kisser and you could kinda imagine what he might be able to do with that mouth placed somewhere else, but then you really thought about it and decided the missing facial hair would change the feel. Nevermind. He was at least gracious about the letdown.

The drive back to school was a little somber. You were still trying to figure out if there was any possibility of a roommate swap. Gemma offered to just put you up at her place for the semester, but you didn’t want to sleep on a couch fantasizing about her father while she was in the other room. Maybe Brigette would just spend all her time at Charlie’s, like you should have.

A few days after the start of classes, a small package arrived for you in your mailbox. You’d grabbed it on the way to your Criminal Procedures lecture and stuck it in your backpack to open later. When you got back to your room after taking advantage of office hours to clear the theme for your research paper, you sat cross legged on your bed and opened the small, cardboard box. Inside, nestled in tiny, delicate packing peanuts, was an even smaller, embossed white paper sleeve surrounding a small, red velvety square box.

Inside was a thin, delicate gold chain, with a charm of black onyx arranged in the gold outline of an art deco wing. An angel's wing.

You searched the box for a card and finally found one buried under the packing material once you realized you’d opened the box upside down. There was a simple message to you.

'Angel. This belongs on the part of you I never got the chance to chain. Remember all you are worth and take it as you can. Yours for one night. - A’

Taglist (if you are crossed out I can’t tag you)

Anything: @kittenofdoomage @sillyrabbit81 @kebabgirl67 @feelmyroarrrr @beck07990 @mysweetlittledesire @mollymal @summersong69 (Old times sake? @littlegreenplasticsoldier @sebbytrash @anotherwinchesterfangirl )

Holiday Angel: @angelcavill66 @lizzystuffsthings @plaidcat4815 @augustsprincess @alexakeyloveloki @gofirityouguys

#august walker #august walker x reader #august walker fanfic #august walker fanfiction #august walker au #ceo!august walker #ceo!august #best friend's dad #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #holiday angel #mine

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writerblue275 · 10 months

Text

(Best)FWB!Ezreal Headcanons (18+)

Inspiration: This was one of the of ideas that got me to start this account lol. I’m also in the process of writing a fic based on this idea and it would be so much easier to just reference this post in the header rather than explain everything in the prose.

Champion: Ezreal (like Pilty!Ezreal/Explorer!Ezreal)

Genre: Headcanon

Category: TINIEST amount of angst but primarily FLUFF and SMUT - I mean what were you expecting. We're talking about best friends with benefits here. Typically the benefits are of an adult nature. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Length: This is a looooong one, friends. In my defense, I'm using this headcanon as world-building/background information for at least 1 future fic (It's quickly turning into multiple parts lmao).

Gender: Fem!Reader/reader who is fem presenting? Ahhhh even my non-binary ass doesn't know how to describe this...mention of dresses and stuff.

TW: Adult themes. Friends with benefits, reference to adult activities and kinks. For example: semi-public petting or Dom/sub dynamics. Slight mention of what (probably) happened to his parents and the emotional fallout of that. Mention of alcohol (always drink responsibly y’all). Swearing (as per usual).

Important context: I know game Ez’s age is a bit debated, though generally agreed on somewhere in early to early-mid-20s. For adult Ez in this, let’s say he’s like 23-24? Also Indiana Jones exists in this universe because DAMNIT I WANT TO CALL HIM INDIANA JONES AS A NICKNAME.

SFW

Your father is a history professor at the academy who knows/works with Ezreal’s uncle, Professor Lymere, and who often collaborated with Ez’s parents before they disappeared. Archeology and history go hand-in-hand, after all.

These collaborations led to you and Ezreal being together often as kids since you were around the same age, and a close friendship developed.

To the point of casual physical affection (hugs, hand holding, occasional cuddles) and silly nicknames for each other. He calls you princess, you call him…idiot mostly. (Jk…kinda.) You’ve called him Indiana Jones for forever since he was just as fascinated about archeology/artifacts as his parents.

You have called him an idiot many times though, especially when he’s been extremely rash and reckless.

At various points in your friendship, people have seen the two of you and assumed you had to be dating. It’s hysterical to both of you.

“Me dating Ezreal?! Nah, he’s just my best friend.”

“(Y/N)?? Absolutely not. We’re just best friends.”

You’re one of the few people who can humble Ezreal, a specialty of yours since early on in your friendship.

You: *In your father’s office studying while he teaches a lecture to one of his classes in a nearby lecture hall*

Ez: *Runs into the office, breathlessly laughing as he leans against the now closed door, holding a toupee*

You: *Eyebrows raise* Whatcha got there, Ez?

Ez: *grins* One of the campus warden’s toupees!

You: *Stares at him for a second and sighs* You’re a moron….*goes back to studying*

After his parents’ disappearance, you were understandably worried for Ezreal. You watched as your best friend struggled through the stages of grief, and even worse, stalled before he could get to the acceptance stage of what most likely happened.

You were always there to listen when he needed an ear. Even more importantly you tried to serve as a voice of reason once Ez started planning his own expedition to find the final resting place of Ne’Zuk.

You never said anything to completely dissuade him, because you wanted him to follow his heart and his dreams, but you couldn’t help but worry. With what likely happened to his parents, you were utterly terrified he wouldn’t come back, especially considering his stubbornness, his recklessness, and his age. Losing your best friend was a thought you just couldn’t stomach.

Only you knew about his plan to sneak onto a supply ship bound for Nashramae. You sent him off in the middle of the night with a giant hug and a “Be safe, Indiana Jones. You better come back alive…Write when you can…”

After a second he pulled back from the hug, gave you a signature Ez smirk, and said, “You know me well enough to know I’ll be fine, princess…”

Once he did set off, you had to convincingly act as though you didn’t know where he went. It was difficult, especially seeing how distraught his uncle was once he read Ez’s note, but your loyalty was to your friend.

It was torment waiting for any sort of news. Ez wasn’t exactly going to the most populated areas.

Thankfully, he did eventually return, excited to show off his new gauntlet, using it often to flash behind you and scare you.

“Ez, I swear if you keep scaring me, I cannot be held responsible for any damage to your stupid handsome face.”

*Smirk* “Handsome eh?”

“…Shut up…f-forget I said anything…the last thing you need is an inflated ego.”

But he didn’t forget.

Over the years as he gained notoriety and fame from his adventures, you were one of the few people who didn’t treat him any differently from how you had in the past.

As much as his ego craved the validation and fame, hoping they’d be enough to draw his parents back (god damn this man needs HELLA therapy), having someone who just treated him as Ezreal, not as the prodigal explorer, was really nice…

Once he was a little older, when he started getting invites to parties and banquets to talk about his adventures, you became his go-to date.

As he told you, “It’s just easier than dealing with the rabid fans. Also you’re good-looking, and I need someone with me that helps make me look good.”

That earned him a sarcastic eye roll and “Thanks, I guess?” from you.

With the fame and scale of his adventures, Ez collected a decent amount of wealth on top of what his family already had. As thanks for being his go-to plus-one, he’d always take care of the cost of your clothes and accessories for these events, sometimes even buying outfits for you himself; things that he thought would look good on you. He has shockingly good taste and understands your sense of style very well. (SUGAR DADDY FRIEND EZ, ANYONE?)

It was about a year and a half ago that things in your friendship changed. He’d been gone almost 3-months chasing a particularly legendary relic rumored to be surrounded by an incredible number of traps that were said to be impassable.

“Impassable” is Ez’s specialty, as you know.

Of course, his exuberant return made him a popular invite to all the parties. Everyone wanted to hear the tales of Piltover’s prodigal explorer.

You were just fucking relieved to have your best friend home, alive, and in one piece.

NSFW

It was after one of these fancy parties when things popped off. There’d been an open bar during the dancing portion of the evening. Both of you were tipsy. Both of you were giggly. Ez gave you a piggy back ride home since you decided to kick off your incredibly uncomfortable heels the second you stepped outside. (What a gentleman.)

Once you arrived at your apartment, you invited him to stay the night as he always did since it was so late. Of course he agreed, grabbing the extra set of comfy clothes he stashed there for such situations and going to change while you prepared the couch for your usual post-event chats, setting up, pillows, blankets, snacks, and water.

As he came out of the hallway to the living room where you were, you could feel his gaze glued to you as you bent down to prep some things*

You: *blushing a little and not looking up at him* “Yes?”

Ez: *smirks* I thought that dress would look incredible on you, and I was right….you look even sexier than usual…

You looked up at him with wide eyes, your cheeks DEFINITELY pinker as your mind took a second to register what he said* “You thought about how I’d look in this? W-wait…you think I’m sexy?”

He just grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “Of course I did and of course I do. I’ve told you before that you’re good looking. Do you remember when you accidentally blurted out that I was handsome? Do you still think I am?”

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or your curiosity about the direction of this conversation that had you saying, “Yes I do. I’ve thought that for a long time. But, I don’t understand why that matters? You’re my best friend, Ezreal, and to be honest, dating you sounds like a nightmare. I already worry enough about you when you’re on your expeditions. Adding deeper feelings into that sounds like a one-way express ticket to driving myself insane.”

Ez chuckled, “Who said anything about dating or deeper feelings? Feelings are the last thing I need in my life (again THERAPY, MY GUY). But, the way I see it, I’m physically attracted to you, you’re physically attracted to me, neither of us want feelings involved beyond what our friendship is now….that sounds like an arrangement that is mutually beneficial…”

You straightened up and folded your arms together as you contemplate his words. “So like a…friends with benefits sort of thing?”

Ez grinned. “More like best friends with benefits, but yes. I have needs. I’m assuming based on the fact that you’re currently not seeing anyone either that you also have needs. We’ve helped each other out with problems many times….why not help each other with this one?”

Ok, but why was he making so much sense??

He was also right. You’d been going through a hell of a dry spell as of late. And hey, when it comes to people, you trust Ezreal more than anyone else. You’d also be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t find him extremely attractive. All of these reasons pinged around your mind until finally…

“Yes…ok…yes….tonight can serve as a test of sorts…but I’m not finalizing anything until tomorrow morning when both of us are stone cold sober. I have conditions, but they don’t apply at the moment. Got it?”

His response was an frantic nod and an eager “Got it,” as he stepped closer and reached for your waist to pull you to him.

Your response was to turn around and move your hair to the side. “Ah ah ah. First help me with my zipper…then show me what you can do, pretty boy…”

And BOY DID HE. Quite honestly he blew your mind (and your back out 😉). But we’ll get to that later on.

The important conversation happened the next morning after you two woke up tangled with each other.

Ez sat up and stretched, and you couldn’t help it as you sleepily reached over and gently ran your fingers along his abs.

He gave you a sleepy smirk and eyebrow raise before murmuring, “Already want another round, princess?”

This resulted in you pinching him before you also pulled yourself up, not even caring that he was baldly admiring you as you stretched. “I tentatively agree to this arrangement, Ez, but I want to talk about limits/conditions. Let’s talk as we get breakfast ready…”

Your conditions: 1. While this arrangement is in place, he’s not sleeping with anyone else and that includes on expeditions. You don’t want the chance for any sort of disease. 2. If either of you falls for another person, the arrangement needs to end (obviously you two would talk about it so the other knows what’s going on). 3. This can’t fuck up your friendship. Even if things physically end, your friendship needs to remain intact. You don’t want to lose your best friend. 4. No falling in love with each other.

Ez easily agreed to your terms and laid out his own: 1. He’ll see you when he gets home from expeditions and while he’s in Piltover. 2. If he’s not sleeping with anyone else, he hopes you won’t either. 3. He wants you to take care of yourself mentally (a bit ironic), physically, and emotionally, especially while he’s gone. (He won’t admit it, but when he’s on his explorations, he thinks/worries about you often and wonders if you’re doing alright.) 4. He wants to continue to buy you gifts and clothes, and he also wants to start including lingerie in said gifts if you tell him your sizes and style preferences.

The last one surprised you. “Lingerie? Why? That seems pretty intimate for fuck buddies. I certainly don’t expect such gifts from you.”

He was unfazed, instead just grinning and chuckling at the surprise on your face. “Believe it or not, it’s almost more for me than you. Undressing you will be like unwrapping my own present.”

Strangely enough you couldn’t find any fault with that logic.

You agreed to all his terms, and the two of you did a little hand shake to finalize things. A strangely small gesture to seal a massive change in your friendship.

(*Clears throat*) And now for the important part…

Definitely NSFW - AKA How is Ez as a FWB?

With an ego like his, you might think Ez is a selfish lover.

And you know what, maybe to start he is, but you shut that shit down IMMEDIATELY. Remember, you’re one of the only ones who can humble this man.

Once you make it clear that this arrangement will not be one-sided in pleasure if he wants it to continue, he makes sure to act RIGHT.

Like he really makes sure to blow your back out every single time (hell yeah go you).

A large part of his initial “selfishness” is hesitance. You two have known each other forever, but certainly not in this way. You telling him off? Honestly it reminds him that this is still you, his best friend, who he knows better than just about anyone. He is just learning about another side of you.

That is a confidence boost to him and banishes any insecurities he has.

(Unlike Heartsteel Ez who I see very primarily as a sub) Ez is a true switch maybe even leaning a little dom.

Whatever you need him to be, he can be.

Ezreal can be VERY PLAYFUL. Your normal friendship is filled with laughter and teasing, and your friendship in the bedroom is no different.

That doesn’t mean he can’t be serious though, he absolutely can be.

He’s the extremely teasing type, expertly working you up with just a couple touches in public or private and then making you wait.

For example, at those fancy dinners you go to with him? If anyone bothers to look under the tablecloth they'll see his hand on you, thumb tracing shapes into the fabric of your dress high up on your thigh, while he casually recounts the harrowing details of his adventures.

There you are, just sitting there trying to keep a straight face and not blush. He does it often enough you think you’d be used to it by now but NOPE.

You’re really glad no one expects you to tell any stories at those things because every time his hand creeps onto your thigh, your brain short circuits a little bit. Trying to tell a story or hold more than a passing conversation would be incredibly difficult.

And he KNOWS IT TOO. Once he’s not speaking, he always looks over at you and gives you a little smirk.

And if you do the same to him when he’s not telling stories? He will not stop leaning over and softly complaining in your ear.

You take great pleasure in whispering in his ear, “Can’t handle what you dish out? This is what you get, you teasing fuck.” (Or something similar lol.) Then you pass everything off as normal with a very quick, friendly, and casual kiss on the cheek which makes HIS brain short circuit a little bit.

Very touchy and LOUD in bed, especially when you’re on top. To the point you have had to cover his mouth with your hand and threaten to STOP riding him if he doesn’t get himself together and be quieter. He knows damn well how thin apartment walls in Piltover are.

Eventually you just gag him with something, because let’s be honest, it’s an empty threat. You definitely DON’T want to stop and he’s well aware of that.

When he’s on top though, Ez intentionally will do things that cause your sounds to get louder, making no attempts to quiet you. Instead he just smirks down at you and whispers in your ear, “Is that all you’ve got, princess? I know you can get louder than that…don’t hold back for me…”

Don’t be afraid to mark him. Feeling your nails dig into his shoulders/back or feeling you mark his collarbone with hickeys drives him absolutely wild.

Very very VERY good at dirty talk. His wit and sass translate extremely well to more intimate contexts. And when you dirty talk right back at him? He loves it when you’re just as playful as he is. His favorite is when you murmur something filthy in his ear and follow it up with a playful little nip somewhere.

Loves tying you up and loves being tied up, as well as using blindfolds.

Not the most attentive with aftercare, but hey, your arrangement isn’t romantic so you don’t mind. He at least stays the night/for breakfast and cuddles you which is honestly more than you thought he’d do.

It might be a bit inconsistent concerning WHEN you see Ezreal since who knows when he’ll come back from his expeditions, but whenever he is in Piltover, the two of you certainly have a good time. Besides, it’s good to know your best friend is home safe…at least until he sets off on another adventure.

Thank you for reading!! Omg I had so much fun with this one. And I’m already enjoying writing the associated fic. It was literally just supposed to be a one-shot and now there’s absolutely going to be multiple parts, so keep an eye out for that!

#ezreal #ezreal x reader #Ezreal headcanon #Ezreal headcanons #Ezreal smut #league of legends headcanon #reader insert #headcanon #smut #league of legends

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daryascurse · 5 months

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𝙲𝙰𝚅𝙴𝙰𝚃 𝙴𝙼𝙿𝚃𝙾𝚁

── Part III: Sui Juris

He thought of this in abstract as the water drummed over his ears, in pictures and memories more than an internal monologue – the weight of the graduation cloak under the beating sun, the sweat gathering above the upper lips of the sea of faces before him, the warm perfume he smelled more than tasted when his tongue pressed and split her in the classroom – “Fuck,” he said. The word bounced amongst the tiles.

chapter pov : 3rd person coryo, 2nd person reader, AFAB reader, feminine pronouns ❀ tags: masτurbation, fantasizing ❀ word count: ~3.6k ❀ ao3 ❀playlist

I have a very strict adult-only interaction policy. Ageless, blank, and clearly minor-run blogs that interact will be blocked. If you have questions about what that means, please read the byf in my pinned post.

See header "Caveat Emptor" link for table of contents/ chapter 1.

He was shaking as he stormed from the classroom. The once-bustling halls of the morning had settled from the seething churn of activity, trickled into a stream of the last few graduates and their families milling around. They came dangerously close to knocking into his shoulders as he barreled through the campus.

“Hey, Cor-”

The sounds of acquaintances greeting him fell into the rhythm of his feet pounding on the marble. Coriolanus had to clench his hands into fists. He let the strain curling through his palms be what drew his focus as he walked. It couldn’t be that he thought of the interrupted fullness that ached and throbbed there with each step. It couldn’t be that he instead thought of the ring box rocking into his calf, of the secret bruise he was sure to find tonight that was probably swelling already. He ground his teeth, muscles convulsing in his throat. Even Coriolanus’ jaw felt misaligned, the clenched bite sliding in a way that felt wrong, wrong, as wrong as the day had turned.

How he hated her!

How he must hate her, to have her strangle at his thoughts so!

Coriolanus exhaled, sharp, through his nose, and strode towards the main gates. He hated her. And acknowledging this fury that burned in his veins made him feel a little more comfortable. It was more familiar to wallow in hatred. Better than to spend time in the disarray, in the confusion, the unsettled dust with which she left his mind.

Her name burst from the speakers, another droning reminder to collect her diploma, and Coriolanus fought the urge to box his hands over his ears. The fury, so close to ebbing away, refused to settle in his curled fists, as if he might only be satisfied by beating himself half-senseless. Coriolanus was familiar in his strength enough for it.

Breathe, damn it.

So Coriolanus clenched his fists harder, then flexed them with a push, fingers splaying as if to wrap around a throat. He would refuse to think of her. He would simply refuse to open up the graduation program, to find her name again; there was no reason to flip to the back pages, to see if her plans were published in the same ink that let the school boast that alumnus Coriolanus Snow was off to become Head Gamemaker. Even if he could do that so easily. Again, the better choice – to forget her.

Yes, Coriolanus would forget her. He hated her for the disruption, but he would get that plan back on track, to create the perfect public image that he was painfully close to completing. He gave a curt nod to a waving student who clearly recognized him better than he did them, and made his way to the car still waiting. As he rode to the restaurant, Coriolanus kneaded his knuckles in his lap. The hot summer day roared past the windows, and he closed his eyes. He managed to bid her from his mind, allowing more important thoughts – of work, of the Games – to take their rightful priority.

Livia Cardew was the only one who made a comment when he made his way to his seat at the square marble table, her eyes oily and sharp. Like a rat. “Something kept you, Coriolanus?”

He shed the graduation robe and handed it to one of the restaurant’s white suited Avoxes. “I ran into Professor Waterford in the hall and it was hard to get away,” he said, adjusting the collar of his shirt and leaning around the centerpiece to shake Lucio Cardew’s hand before sitting. “My sincere apologies for making you wait, Livia. Mr. Cardew, Mrs. Cardew.”

Livia and her mother Antonia took mirrored sips of champagne on his left and right, the former’s gaze still narrowed over the lip of the flute.

“Lucio, please, Coriolanus,” came a mild, oft-repeated grunt soon railroaded by the sound of his wife.

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Cardew said as she put her glass down. “That man always prattles on and on. I’m sure everyone else wanted to say their last words and well wishes, too. I’m thrilled we could even get a chance to congratulate you getting off stage.”

“It was certainly crowded,” Mr. Cardew said. He sniffed as an Avox came to place Coriolanus’ first course. “You’d think they’d have things better organized.”

“Well,” Coriolanus demurred cautiously.

“The administration’s always a mess,” Livia said, spinning her knife between her fingers. She drew an imaginary line over her poached egg with the tip of the blade before slicing through and spilling a river of gold across her plate.

“Darling, you won’t have to deal with them anymore now,” Mrs. Cardew said in a voice as smooth and rich as the sauce pooling into Livia’s eggs.

“Absolutely,” Coriolanus said, nodding.

Livia wrinkled her nose. “I certainly hope not. Mother, the bank’s much more well run than that stuffy old place, isn’t it?”

Coriolanus watched the gelatinous wobble of food on her fork and prayed she would eat it soon.

“Of course. And you’ll be training in my department, so you know if you come across any trouble, come right to me.”

Livia’s sound of satisfaction was muffled by the forkful of yellow.

“So, Coriolanus,” Mrs. Cardew continued.

“Yes?” He turned his head, grateful for the distraction.

“When do you formally take the keys to the kingdom from Dr. Gaul?”

She had picked up her knife as well, preparing to saw into her eggs just as her daughter was doing.

“Tomorrow morning,” Coriolanus said. “It’s a workday for the Gamemakers same as most of Panem, isn’t it?”

“What?” snapped Livia.

“No vacation time for you, eh?” Mr. Cardew said into the depths of his goblet.

“I thought we had plans,” Livia whined. “I wasn’t set on starting at the bank for another week.”

Coriolanus wrapped his fingers around the stem of his water glass. It seemed it would take little strength to snap it. Livia wasn’t likely upset at the loss of quality time, but rather, quality access to the Plinth fortune that she would otherwise try to squeeze out of him in such a time. Her shrewd, wealth-hoarding mother had taught her well, which was why the eventual union of the dynasties would be so beneficial to all.

“No, sorry,” he said. “My dear,” he added, and couldn’t restrain his lip from curling at the taste of it. It had made Mrs. Cardew smirk, her thick eyelashes raising to flicker at her daughter across the table, but it felt wrong. Too easily wrapped in sarcasm; and if Livia were to catch on to it over the coming years, it would be much more trouble than it was worth. He needed a different term of endearment, one less easy to spit from between his teeth. “I would have liked to do something special, but some last minute plans fell through.”

The ring box, somewhere buried in a cloak room now, sandwiched in his graduation gown pocket against tens of other coats and jackets, still sat like a phantom weight against his leg. And with the reminder of the weight came the reminder of why he had forgotten. The reason he hadn’t proposed to Livia on that stage. He shifted in his seat.

An Avox whisked away his still-untouched plate to replace it with a second course, and Mrs. Cardew made a sound in her throat that implied she had more to say on the matter. Coriolanus barely heard her, watching the shadow shift across the back of his knuckles as the plate moved down above him.

He had no appetite.

Livia excused herself then. Coriolanus picked up his spoon and turned it listlessly in the lobster bisque.

“You know, Coriolanus,” Mrs. Cardew said in a meticulously measured tone. “After being with Livia for several years now, and speaking only as her mother who wants the best for her…”

She paused.

“Yes, I understand,” he jumped into the momentary breath, and cast a glowing smile her way even as soup slid back into the bowl. His fingers were tensing on the spoon. “I am truly sorry to disappoint any expectations, Mrs. Cardew.”

“Antonia,” she said, singing the turn of vowels over her tongue. Mr. Cardew made a mild sound of agreeance.

“Well,” she said after another pause, the time in which Coriolanus almost thought himself free of this line of conversation, “I must say, as old-fashioned as I may be in this, there certainly are specific expectations her father and I have in mind.”

“Yes, Antonia.”

He shifted his foot under the table, but no amount of fidgeting relieved the tension. He almost wished he could stand up and walk right out the door.

“As much as we’ve welcomed you into our family, a family indeed acts in mutual support, doesn’t It? Well, dear,” she added in a clearly exaggerated haste, “of course you would barely know, no fault of your own – but of course, we’ve raised Livia to understand these expectations as well.”

The rage frothing under Coriolanus’ skin was palpable, itching, consuming all of his senses and spoiling any last trace of an appetite. He’d known this was coming. He’d known that marrying was necessary, and that marrying Livia Cardew was strategically best. He’d committed himself to this plan. He’d played this game in the years since stepping out of the zoo enclosure, carefully and reluctantly coating the saccharine candy shell as the last necessary theatrics before he could take a genteel bow and retire to a watchful eye backstage. And as advantageous as the Cardew family bank connections would be, he’d known it would come with strings, with veiled condescension, with the last remnants of old money snobbery who may be impressed with his ability to claw his way back up with the Snow name, but would never forget that it fell in the first place.

And yet, even though he knew Snow would fall on top, being told how it must be done filled him with anger.

“What did I miss?” Livia said as she slid back into her chair. The tone of her voice did nothing to spur his attitude on, even as the lobster bisque steamed in savory aroma on the table.

When they bid her parents a cordial adieu and gratitude for the brunch – in which the grand tableau of Coriolanus attempting to pay for the bill was more forcedly demure than usual – Coriolanus felt the weight of the ring box almost drag his steps off-center. He knew Mrs. Cardew was right, loathe as he was to admit it, loathe as he was to put it off further in response. But it wouldn’t even be a smug rubbing in their face to reveal that he’d had a ring all along, throughout the double-tongued lecture at the table. There would be whining about how this wasn’t proper, this wasn’t the proposal Livia deserved. And what could he say? That he’d meant to do it on stage in front of everyone? That he’d had a plan? That some whore distracted him?

The anger was consuming him, each delicate clink of cutlery and humming tone of his tablemates conversation only serving as irritants he couldn’t flee from. It was worse, worse than he could have imagined, as the self-discipline he’d believed himself to have. She had genuinely rattled his resolve.

Despite himself, he was thinking of her again. And he needed to think of her alone.

He was thinking of her when he took a different car back to the penthouse, claiming that he’d promised to join Festus Creed and his family for a drink and knowing she would turn her nose up at the invitation to join. Coriolanus instead took the car to the cobbler, thinking of her as he purchased a pair of satin pink slippers with genuine mother-of-pearl soles. At least, that’s what the salesman said as he peddled the most insensible shoes Coriolanus had ever seen, but he wasn’t thinking of the practicality of the gaudy gift that was just an expensive bribe for some free time. He was thinking of her, thinking of her still when he returned home and watched Livia pluck the ribbon to shreds in greedy haste to open the box. It may not have been what the Cardew family expected him to mark the occasion with, but he was able to pretend it had not been a hasty purchase and rather something wrapped and hidden away for this very moment. It was good enough to please her, for her eyes to soften ever so slightly.

“Maybe you could wear them out with the girls to drinks tonight,” Coriolanus said, knowing that he was speaking too on-the-nose but hoping she wouldn’t be shrewd enough to notice.

He was right.

“Darling, these might just have to be house shoes,” Livia said in her patronizing way as she turned them in her hand, running her finger over the sleek iridescence of the soles. Coriolanus had a flash of fear in his stomach for a moment, realizing for the first time that this gift could confine her to the apartment rather than heed his words to coax her away. “But I was thinking of it, you know, going out with Victoire and Davina tonight. Maybe Carina.”

“Oh, were you?” Coriolanus couldn’t care to think of whose faces matched the names she was throwing out.

“Well yes,” Livia said. “Carina and Davina are sisters, so I have to ask them both if I ask one.”

Coriolanus couldn’t care less, so long as she and Carina and Davina and any other well-educated graduate now seeking an early retirement with a ring on their finger would be out of his house. He was thinking of her incessantly now, unable to shake the memories of the morning, like cobwebs knotted high out of reach in the archway. He got his wish with a few more subliminal nudges of approval throughout the evening – of course she should go out and be with her friends. She should take her valise of powders and lipsticks and get ready with Vittoria or Victoria or whoever lived closest to their favorite oyster bar, with pounds of seafood arriving fresh from District Four thrice daily now. They should proceed to the rooftop for cocktails afterward. In fact, she should take her favorite sleeping mask in case they all spend the night. It’s past dinnertime now, she should call the car soon.

She blew a kiss at him out the door in her haste, and Coriolanus didn’t even pretend to catch it.

Instead, he latched the door. He moved without thinking, heeding a primal instinct he hadn’t indulged since his early teen years. Coriolanus turned about, not even waiting to hear the muffled groan of a departing elevator before he unzipped his pants. He didn’t even try to walk to the couch. He moved his hand in a firm grip, back and forth, and came quickly, down the close of his fist to spatter down the front of his nice slacks. It was messy. But the release for a moment made him feel the cluster in his head relaxed enough to think clearly. Coriolanus moved methodically in the aftermath, carefully stepping out of his pants and balling the fabric together. He shed his clothes like snakeskin and wrapped them together to discard in the laundry.

Coriolanus took a shower next, feeling his heartrate slow at last under the cool streams of water. He washed away the burning humiliation of the morning stumbles, the painful brunch with the Cardews. The June night was settling in to be a hot one. He thought of this in abstract as the water drummed over his ears, in pictures and memories more than an internal monologue – the weight of the graduation cloak under the beating sun, the sweat gathering above the upper lips of the sea of faces before him, the warm perfume he smelled more than tasted when his tongue pressed and split her in the classroom –

“Fuck,” he said. The word bounced amongst the tiles.

He needed her, and in his bedroom, he toweled off his wet hair with a vigor that rubbed his scalp near raw. Coriolanus remembered being in primary school, for a moment, the last classes he had taken in rows of carved mahogany desks before the effects of war in the Capitol tore formal schooling asunder. There’d been only a handful of students left that day in geology, when the teacher was explaining earthquakes – the natural ones, not the way the floor shook and buildings swayed as bombs fell.

“It’s easy to imagine that small earthquakes can release pressure among the plates and prevent something bigger,” the teacher had said, tapping the diagram on the chalkboard. “But those little ones aren’t enough to relieve the fault lines of the energy strain. The tension stored on the fault still needs an intense release of energy. A big earthquake.”

The release in the foyer had soothed his mind from the tempest of the morning, but it was far from enough. All the blood in his body was still pumping downwards, the aching weight of the morning still too much to ignore. Coriolanus shoved the comforter down on his side of the bed, droplets still dappled across his shoulders, and took his cock in his hand again. Vague, comforting images flitted across his mind automatically before he thought of her.

She was behind his eyelids, the shape of her face against an unknown background. First, she stood in the classroom, then, she was lying back in the chair in that strip club basement. He opened his eyes, and he could imagine her there in his bed for a moment. He squeezed his fist hard, harder than he’d done before, as if he could pretend it was her hand, her mouth, her cunt.

“Fuck,” Coriolanus let out again in a grunt.

He needed her. He needed to fuck her. He needed to brace his hands against her ankles, feel his fingers wrap around her legs, inhale her scent of sunlight. He would raise them over his shoulders, pushing a faint moan out of her. It would break from her perfectly shaped lips, her breath sighing high into the room.

He would push into her then, watch his cock get slowly swallowed by the wet tightness of her cunt. Coriolanus groaned, adjusted his fingers, tensing his thighs at the memory of how it had felt, at the knowledge that a memory was far from enough. He needed to fuck her, drive deeper and deeper, the back of her thighs hammering against his chest. He needed to be holding them, the plush of her flesh between the spread of his fingers, not his own cock. Each rock of his hips would thrust down into her, not the mindless clenches of muscle and hips jerking feebly upward into bed.

The comforter at his feet was growing too hot of a cover, but even in irritable awareness of this, Coriolanus couldn’t stop and throw it off of him.

He would feel her clench around him, his grip on her thighs tightening in return. He would feel her along his length, every bit of him sucked into her. Her hands would be weak, falling across her chest – no, Coriolanus changed the image without too much thought to take him out of this fevered fantasy – he would bind her hands. She would be held up against the headboard, unable to move beyond how he maneuvered her. She would cling in agony to the fine iron vines, pushing her voice higher and louder in frustration and relish.

“Please,” she would say, as he’d heard her beg, and the thought of it made him groan again as if he could respond to her now. “Please, please.”

He needed to fuck her. He needed to fuck her hard. She would throb around him when he sank deep and held still for a moment, and she would make another plaintive wail when he let her shaking legs down and braced himself over her. He would have to pull out, but he would kiss her, capture her lips and taste the beading sweat. He would hold himself over her when he entered once more and when she cried out again, begging again, he would come. She would be dripping him when he pulled out, and Coriolanus came now at the thought of it, of seeing the milky ooze from the folding petals of her cunt as he filled her.

Coriolanus opened his eyes and exhaled hard enough to banish the ghost of her from the room. His fingers were sticky, the sheets spattered with stains turning dark in the evening light from the window. He couldn’t even think of cleaning them, which he should do whether or not Livia gave the extra reassurance that she wouldn’t be coming home.

He thought, dimly, with the last strings of coherent thought he had, of her. Coriolanus had been a fool to think he could forget her, and he could almost admit that to himself. She intoxicated his senses, his very thoughts. He needed her. He needed her, just as vitally and indispensably as he needed Livia Cardew, but in a wholly different way.

He closed his eyes and, in a rare moment, allowed himself to think of another young woman – the one other “her” to plague him. In the concrete jungle of the Capitol he was free, far, from the wild crossings of brambles and branches seeking to trap him beneath an everblue sky with the screaming echoes of her sounds. He’d shot down the filthy birds, maybe shot her down as well, and cast the cursed singing far from his ears. Only she had made his blood run like this. Only she had haunted him so pervasively, so continuously. Until now.

He had tracked down a wild thing like her before. He could hunt again.

Part IV: TBC

#divider by saradika #mdni banner by cafekitsune #tbosas #coryo x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coryo x you #daryafics #caveatcoryo

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andkisses · 1 year

Text

♡ them as speak now (tv) | enha ♡

ot7!enha headcanon: inspired by songs off of speak now (taylor's version)

♡ ot7 x gn!reader | wc. 1.6k ♡ genres/tropes: fluff! some make outs i dont make the rules 🤷🏻‍♀️ ♡ mentions of/warnings: none lmk if i missed anything ♡ a/n: little something for every member <3 jungwon’s first and the rest below the cut ^^ the header is so pretty purple on top fr i meant to do this when the album released by it never happened lol enjoy !! also lowercase intended <;33 ♡ masterlist ♡

✧･ﾟ: * jungwon - long live

it’s loud when you grab his hand, the whole room cheering. for what, jungwon has forgotten the moment he felt your fingers against his. he can barely hear you as he reads your lips: “remember this moment.” and suddenly there’s a crown on his head and on yours and then–that force he can’t ever ignore, not with you. the red string of fate tied between the two of you that pulls you together, his hand to your cheek and your lips against his. there’s no more cheering, just the sound of jungwon’s heartbeat and his thoughts. he wonders if you feel the same, if your heart feels so full it might just pop with petals and confetti everywhere, just like his. and when he opens his eyes, jungwon wipes away your happy tears as you laugh into his arms. homecoming royalty–who would have thought? he remembers when he was too shy to talk to you, now he’s ready to stand by your side for as long as possible. jungwon leans in to kiss you again, his mind clear and happy as the camera flash pops and he feels your smile against his lips, and he knows. “promise me,” he whispers against your skin. “always remember?” your arms wrap around his torso, and jungwon wraps his around your shoulders. your always, he decides, is his new favorite sound.

✧･ﾟ: * heeseung - i can see you

messy, he knows, but not sloppy. you two shouldn’t see each other, or so they say. campus rivals gunning for the same position in clubs, the same achievements and awards and accolades. they should hate each other, is what you hear. but heeseung knows he could never, ever hate you. not even if he tried. he can’t even hate how the two of you have to act like spies, covert and not getting caught, because he likes keeping you secret. it’s selfish, really, but he can’t help it. your touch makes him dizzy, even the slightest brush of your hand against his passing in the hall sends his mind into overdrive. the things he sees in his head, what he imagines when he sees you waiting down the hall for him, drives him as he kisses you against the wall with fever. his hands at your waist, yours in his hair. heeseung knows this can’t last forever, so he’s counting the days until you can be his all the time, not just in small stolen moments. when the competition won’t matter, when what’s done is done and he can hold your hand walking to class and give you kisses goodbye. when you can slip into his dorm or he into yours, and neither of you have to worry about being seen. when there’s no more notes, because you’re finally in sync with one another. that’s what heeseung is waiting for, working for.

✧･ﾟ: * jay - ours

it’s how, no matter how busy, the two of you always find time for each other. jay isn’t sure when you slipped the note into his lunch, but he’s happy you did. seeing your handwriting and a little smiley face and heart lifts his spirits. especially when people around him are always asking questions and throwing metaphorical rocks: “aren’t you a little too young to know what love is?” but jay does know. it’s how your hand always finds his if you’re standing beside each other. how you’ll talk to each other, debriefing each other about your days, tucked beneath the covers, nose to nose. how, when you can’t sleep, he knows to rub your back in soothing patterns. he shares riddles with you, his notes in your lunch, and patiently waits for you to text him guesses. it’s how, after a long day, you find yourselves draped over each other in a corner of the couch, savoring each other’s breathing and relishing the okay silence. he doesn’t have to talk to you, or you to him. holding each other at the end of the day, you’ve both discovered, is more than enough to recharge. with you in his lap, your head tucked against his chest and beneath his chin, jay can’t imagine anything better. this love, he decides, shines, and it's yours forever.

✧･ﾟ: * jake - enchanted

you came to him like a light, jake remembers. some dumb college party feeling lonely because he knew no one, and everyone only talked to him in passing. then–you. a light at the far end of the room, something he was drawn to. when your eyes met, the spark of recognition filled jake–but he wasn’t sure if he’d ever met you before. then, jostled together by the crowd, he caught you before you fell, hands careful around your arms before letting go. and he remembers wondering if you felt the feeling as well. and no one warned jake about how you would be all he thought about–how his eyes would search for you everywhere, all over campus and elsewhere, because why wouldn’t he? left so wonderstruck he’s surprised he can get anything done. but then–that chance encounter in the stairwell, seeing you again, and jake swore to himself he wouldn’t let you go so easily this time. his first page, his chapter one, begins with will you go out with me? it’s followed by a coy smile and an i will. and now here, months later, as the sunlight streams in through the curtains on this early lazy morning. jake is careful not to move, you’re still asleep. the sunlight, he decides, reminds him of you. a light, full of wonderstruck. he plants a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, and smiles when the hand on his chest holds on that much tighter.

✧･ﾟ: * sunghoon - sparks fly

pouring rain as silence falls over the two of you, and sunghoon waits with bated breath trying to determine what you’ll do next. he didn’t mean to confess like this, soaking wet and just out of arm’s reach at the end of an argument. he had been acting “weird” because he didn’t want to ruin this friendship you had–one that had gone on for so long, but then he said it. i’m so in love with you, and i have been. it feels like slow motion as he watches the raindrops hit your cheeks and you step close to him. sunghoon can’t help it, he laughs, one short hah with a smile on his face because, somehow, you’re still here. he shivers when your hands come up to comb his hair out of the way, and his hands come up to rest securely at your hips. lightning strikes somewhere else, a rumble of thunder coming your way. the harsh yellow street light illuminates your spot in the dark. your hands go around his neck, and now there’s barely a space between you. “you’re captivating,” you whisper, before closing the gap and pressing your lips to his. you’re sweet and everything sunghoon wished for, pulling apart with a gasp to laugh again, his joy uncontained, he pulls you close, and revels in how you nuzzle into his chest. he’ll miss your touch when you aren’t with him, but he knows you’ll feel the same. and that’s captivating.

✧･ﾟ: * sunoo - when emma falls in love

there have been other’s before you, of course. some came and went, and some stayed longer than others. now: you. the guards he built up at first would never have allowed it, letting you in like this after everyone else. but even when sunoo was unusually cold, you stayed. bit by bit, sunoo felt it. love, the ooey gooey kind that sticks to everything and changes how you see things, even color. because it isn’t just a color anymore. it’s your favorite. or the one you look best in. or the one that matches your eyes. sunoo falls, and he knows others can see it, like how stars shine in the night. and before he confesses, and after a few dates, sunoo locks himself in, paces imaginary ruts into the floor. he tries to talk himself out of it, but his heart talks him back in. he used to always look for the rain, but with you? he finds out his heart fits in the palm of your hand, and as sunoo stares up at you, his head in your lap and your fingers combing through his hair, sunoo is okay to let you keep it. something tells sunoo, this is it. his shelter, his love. and he’s oh so okay with it. he pours out his love, words after words, actions after action, kisses after kisses. yes, there have been ones before you, but sunoo will be damned before letting anyone else come after.

✧･ﾟ: * niki - mine

people tell him all the time he should “keep his options open.” but niki knew the moment you walked into the diner he worked at, you were the one. how could you not be? now, here you were, your first official date–one that didn’t include you coming around to see him at the diner. there’s too many feelings running through his body–fear and excitement and nervousness and–god, you’re just right there. inches from him. what should he do? the lakewater laps against the shore down far in front of you two. then it happens. niki turns to ask you something, and he’s forgotten now because you’ve done the same thing and somehow between you leaning and him ducking down–a kiss. your first kiss with each other. you stare at each other, lips askew and kissing each other’s corners. but then, like magic, you close your eyes and break apart just enough to kiss again, for real this time, and now niki’s emotions feel like they’re times ten. after who knows how long–not niki, he could stay here forever–you pull away again. his eyes flutter open, and he savors the redness of your cheeks, knowing his must be just the same. he reaches out to lace his fingers between yours. “be mine?” he asks, and you laugh, a joyous sound niki promises to keep around. you kiss him again. “of course, if you’ll be mine?”

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psychhound · 1 year

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ttrpgs in the classroom (part 3)

back with another ttrpg class update!! this post has been Delayed for a while due to grad school craziness but finally sitting down to type it. another one we DID NOT PLAY (my students were so upset) but read as a piece of art and had a discussion on in class

the game:

for our discussion we read what little the flames leave us by @sprintingowl

it's a game about loss and sacrifice where you embark on a doomed quest and lose parts of yourself along the way. the way this is represented in the game? whenever you push the narrative in the way that you want to, you have to set your character sheet on fire, burning away things like bonds with allies and what you're most proud of

the goal:

introducing multiplayer games, continuing our discussion of genre expectations, pushing the assumptions of the medium's restrictions, generating story ideas within a predesigned framework

the methods:

the students all read the game before class, then wrote a short discussion board post, and then came in ready for a class discussion

the discussion board post asked students to write 200-300 words while considering these questions:

How did it make you feel reading through the game?

How did this game challenge your concept of what a game is?

What do you think the experience of playing this would be like?

How do you think the game's mechanics would affect the tone of gameplay and the story?

What sort of stories do you imagine would work best with the mechanics of this system?

How did your opinion of the game grow or change when you looked at the character sheet?

What do you think the game must feel like from the characters' perspectives?

the results:

the discussion went well after i got the students to stop arguing with me about getting to take a field trip off campus to go play!! next time i'm gonna have to be Really specific that we Aren't playing this game before i assign it as a reading

everyone had very interesting things to say about how this challenged their ideas of a game and why. most of the students werent familiar with ttrpgs at all at the beginning of this class, so some of them were really interested in the rules-lite collaborative narrative aspect of it, and others were really interested in fire as a mechanic, and how that represents loss in game

most of the students thought that in-game, it would feel very tragic and high stakes to the characters, though i did have one who thought the characters may be very apathetic and checked out if they were willing to risk all of this for the goal in the first place

we talked about what stories the students would tell with this system, and we had a good mix of answers! the two that stood out to me the most were "murder house", where the goal youre willing to lose everything for is to merely survive the house, and the second which was "a princess leaving the castle", which we discussed was still very much about loss, but in a different way than the other answers of "bank robbery" and "wild west" that we got from a lot of other students

the first header of "it was a pleasure to burn" was also pointed out by a student, and we discussed the parallels with fahrenheit 451, and how the characters in the book lost more and more when they tried to grasp at autonomy and freedom from the ruling power of the story

overall super successful discussion day and i would absolutely assign this game again!! (with a huge disclaimer that we ARENT PLAYING IN CLASS SO I DONT GET SUED)

our first big essay is due on friday so i should hopefully be back with more soon!

#indie ttrpgs #ttrpg community #teaching #ttrpgs in the classroom

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yuujispinkhair · 17 days

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I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 03

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: 18+, smut. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Mentions of masturbation in this chapter and Reader has some dirty fantasies about our favorite hockey player. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 10 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

You are at the Tigers' next home game, too, watching and cheering from the stands, having fun just like the last time, but now you also understand the rules, thanks to your private lesson with Sukuna. You still grin anytime you look at the hockey rules written in his elegant handwriting and the little drawing with the tattooed stick figure.

The Tigers win, thanks to Sukuna scoring several goals. You congratulate him after the game, when he once again skates next to you as you walk past the plexiglass. And Sukuna smiles one of his rare dazzling smiles at you, which makes you feel giddy for the rest of the evening.

But Sukuna isn't just on your mind when you are at one of his hockey games. You catch yourself looking for pink hair anytime you walk over campus. And more often than not, when you eventually spot Sukuna, he is somehow already looking at you with his boyish grin and a raised eyebrow, as if he was looking for you, too.

You run into him in front of the dining hall several times, and he tells you to join him, leading you to his table again. You are surprised to realize that, apparently, it's a regular occurrence for Sukuna to sit on his own, or if someone is with him, it is only his brother or the team's kit manager, Uraume, who somehow seems to be on friendly terms with Sukuna, too.

It makes you wonder because you always assumed the star player would be surrounded by his teammates or admirers, basking in their attention.

It's one of those days when it's only Sukuna and you who have lunch together, when you blurt out,

"Why are you always sitting here alone or with your brother or Uraume? Why don't you sit with your teammates?"

Sukuna huffs at your question,

"Most of my teammates bore me to death or piss me off. They know better than to sit with me. In the beginning, they tried to tell me that the team always shares a table, but I told them to fuck off and not get on my dick. They got the message. They do as I say on the ice, and they also do what I say off the ice."

You don't doubt it. Anyone who seeks a fight with Sukuna must be crazy. This charming version of Sukuna you meet isn't the version he is for most people. He can be an asshole, and you don't doubt for a second that he doesn't hesitate to throw some punches off the ice too.

But the bad boy doesn't seem that bad when he has lunch with you. Sukuna is actually a charming lunch companion and full of surprises.

You put the novel you are currently reading on the table, and Sukuna jerks his chin toward the book, commenting on one of the characters in a way that tells you he knows what he is talking about. You look at him curiously,

"You read it, too?"

Sukuna leans back in his chair, one arm casually resting on the backrest of the chair next to him, his thighs spread under the table, his long legs brushing against yours, and a smug grin spreading over his handsome face.

"Yeah. Believe it or not, princess. I read a lot in my free time and for my classes, too."

And you suddenly realize that you have no idea what Sukuna's major is. You always assumed it was something obvious, like kinesiology or sports management. But his comment about reading makes you curious.

"What is your major, Sukuna?"

You didn't think it was possible, but Sukuna seems to look even more smug when he answers you,

"History."

Your hand that was bringing your spoon to your mouth stops mid-air, and you blink at Sukuna.

"History? Okay, wow, I didn't expect that."

Sukuna's grin is shit-eating by now, his eyes sparkling in amusement.

"Why not? You think I'm some dumb jock? I am offended, princess."

"No... I.. I don't know. I guess I pictured history majors differently. And isn't it kind of boring? All that old stuff?"

Sukuna raises an eyebrow at you,

"I analize past events to see what we can learn from them for modern times. It's about critical thinking and evaluating human actions. What is boring about that?"

"When you put it like that it doesn't sound so bad, I guess."

"Exactly. You are a creative writing major, right princess? You have all your fictional stories that you read or write yourself. They aren't boring to you, right? Now, I, on the other hand, have all those stories that actually happened. And many of them are first-class novel material. All that old stuff, as you call it, is very interesting. All the drama, the betrayal, the political intrigues."

You nod solemnly,

"Yeah, if I want to write a story set in the past I have to do research, too, to see how life worked at that time. How lucky that I have an expert to ask for help now!"

Sukuna grins at you,

"You're such a lucky girl indeed. But don't think I will just share my knowledge for free."

You give Sukuna a blank look,

"What? You gonna charge money for it?"

"Who said anything about money?"

He grins teasingly at you and you roll your eyes, throwing your hands up as you grin back at Sukuna,

"So, what kind of payment do you have in mind?"

"Maybe I am talking about this," Sukuna gestures to the table and your plate, "Keeping me company for lunch, coming to my games, being an enthusiastic enjoyer of my cigarette smoke. By the way, I need one after we are finished eating. You coming with me, princess? Consider it a payment in advance for gaining acess to all the amazing history knowledge in my mind."

Sukuna winks at you, and you can't help but laugh.

"Okay, I think that sounds fair."

You're on your way to your dorm after class when you hear your name getting called by a very familiar, smooth, low voice. You turn around, only to almost drop the stack of books you are carrying in your arms.

Sukuna is jogging toward you, apparently going for a run as part of his daily workout, and there is definitely too much of his tattooed skin and buff muscles on display.

You stare at him, probably looking like a complete fool, as your eyes trail over Sukuna's tall, muscular figure. He's only wearing a black tank top and red shorts with the Tigers logo. It's far too little clothing to cover up how gorgeous he is.

You gulp hard. Sukuna looks so sexy, with his muscles all buff, the veins on his arms standing out from his workout, and a thin layer of glistening sweat coating his tattooed skin and muscles.

He asks you how your day was, and you manage to give him an answer that sounds halfway sane while your gaze travels up and down his body.

You don't know where to look. There is just so much of him, and it makes you feel so flustered! Sukuna makes you feel things you aren't ready to admit, but the fluttery feeling in your stomach grows more intense by the second.

Your heart jumps to your throat when you glimpse a pair of black bands peeking out from under Sukuna's shorts.

Oh my god. Does he have upper thigh tattoos?

You stare at those tempting black lines on Sukuna's muscular thighs a moment too long before you catch yourself, and your head quickly snaps up again, eyes wide, looking at Sukuna's face with an expression that does nothing to hide how affected you are by him and his stupid gorgeous body.

A cocky smirk spreads over Sukuna's tattooed face. The face of someone who knows exactly how sexy he is.

"Do you like my tattoos, princess?"

"Yeah, um... they look very cool," you manage to say, and before you can stop yourself, you add, "How many do you have in total?"

You silently curse yourself the moment the words have left your mouth because you know you just presented Sukuna with an open goal. And, of course, he doesn't even let a second go by before he grins at you with a devilish glint in his eyes, his voice dropping to a seductive timbre,

"I'll let you count them if you want."

You make a sound of complaint, but Sukuna's words send your pulse racing, and you are sure he knows it. You are saved from further embarrassment though by the beeping sound Sukuna's heart rate monitor makes to inform him something is off. He laughs softly and jerks his chin toward you,

"I have to keep going. See you at my game!"

And with that said, Sukuna runs past you, but not without reaching out to ruffle your hair, making you yell after him to stop ruining your hairstyle.

It's a busy weekend for you, with several deadlines for assignments and a birthday party in your dorm that you help organize, so you decide not to go to the hockey game.

You don't even think about it until Monday morning when you get practically cornered by a scowling Sukuna.

You turn around after getting some books from your locker only to gasp because Sukuna is standing in front of you, tall and buff, effectively blocking your way.

He takes a step closer, his tall, broad body blocking out the light and the other people in the hallway, making it seem like it is only you and him. One of his large tattooed hands comes to rest on your locker, right next to your face, and Sukuna leans down so he is on eye-level with you, stopping only centimeters from your face.

"I didn't see you at my game."

You hug the books you just got out of your locker to your chest as you tilt your head to smile nervously up at Sukuna.

"Yeah, I was too busy and couldn't make it."

Sukuna curls his lips, and you feel the need to shrug apologetically and add a soft,

"Sorry."

Sukuna sighs and straightens up again, running his hand through his pink hair, slicking it back while fixing you with a sulky look out of his beautiful maroon eyes. It almost looks like he is pouting.

"You know that's a problem, right, princess? We lost the game."

You blink up at him in slight alarm before you see the mischievous sparkle in Sukuna's maroon eyes and see the corners of his lips twitch.

And so you play along and stare at him with comically big eyes, pressing a hand to your mouth that is opened in a fake shocked expression.

"Oh no! Forgive me, Your Majesty, King Sukuna The First! I wasn't aware that my absence would lead to your men's defeat on the icy battlefield."

Sukuna chuckles softly and leans closer again, both of his large hands placed on each side of your head now, his voice a low whisper, as if he is sharing a secret with you,

"I like it when you are there to watch me play. You are my personal lucky charm, princess. We haven't lost a single game since you started coming. But we lost this Saturday. Call me superstitious, but as a responsible player, I must demand your presence at all future home games."

You look at his beautiful face, so close to you that you can make out every little detail of the second pair of eyes tattooed into his skin. You feel your heart beat faster and a smile spreads over your face as you tilt your head, coming even closer to Sukuna,

"Well, I guess then it's my duty to come to every game. I promise I will take my job as your personal lucky charm seriously from now on."

Your voice has also dropped to a flirty whisper, and your pulse flutters wildly with Sukuna standing so close to you. You can feel the warmth radiating off his tall, muscular body. Can smell his sexy cologne again and a hint of cherry, maybe from his hair gel.

Your gaze meets Sukuna's maroon eyes. A lazy but contented smile spreads over his beautiful face. His voice is still barely a whisper, low and seductive, almost a purr,

"Good girl. That's what I wanted to hear."

You can feel his warm breath on your cheek, and you instinctively feel your lashes flutter and tilt your head back even more, your lips parting slightly as if preparing for a kiss.

For a moment, the two of you are locked in your own little universe, where it's only the star player and his lucky charm. Only Sukuna and you, so close to each other that you feel each other's body heat and your breaths brush over each other's lips.

So close.

You gaze deeply into each other's eyes, and Sukuna leans even closer. You think he is really going to kiss you. Your eyes close as your heart beats like crazy.

But a loud yell of "Sukuna! Coach is looking for you!" interrupts the moment, and both your and Sukuna's eyes fly wide open.

He pulls away, rolling his pretty eyes in annoyance as he yells over his broad shoulder at his teammate,

"And what the fuck is so important? I would have come to his office after class anyway! It's not my fucking fault that we lost!"

Sukuna's maroon eyes snap to yours again, and he huffs and grins, cupping your cheek with his large hand and brushing his thumb over your lower lip, adding in his typical velvety voice,

"Neither your fault, princess. Even though you should have really been in the arena. But you can double the good luck at the next game by cheering extra enthusiastically for me. Will you do that for me?"

You barely manage a nod and murmur a breathless "Okay," making your lips move against Sukuna's thumb, almost like a little kiss, before he pulls his hand away and grabs his backpack to sling it casually over his broad shoulder and wink at you one last time before he leaves to see his coach.

You let your head fall against the locker, hug your books tightly to your chest where your heart is beating like crazy, and stare dumbfounded after Sukuna's tall figure. Your knees feel weak, and there is heat pulsing between your thighs from all the sexual tension that was between you and Sukuna just seconds ago.

You let out a long breath and chuckle softly to yourself.

Sukuna's lucky charm, huh?

You like the sound of that.

You find yourself in the hockey arena sooner than expected. But not for a hockey game. One of the girls from your classic literature class is on the figure skater team, and she asked if you could meet her after her training to do the assignment you have together.

You thought you would leave again and go to the coffee shop to work there, but your assignment partner scrunches her face apologetically,

"I'm so sorry, but I can't leave yet. I have to stay here and wait for my teammate to give me the keys to the team room, but she is still in the back talking to our coach. But we can do the assignment here. We can just get comfy on the stands and work there. Is that okay with you?"

You tell her it's okay and follow her, letting her lead you to the otherwise completely empty stands. Just when you sit down, you hear several voices coming from the direction of the ice, and when you turn your head to look what's going on, you see the hockey team entering the rink now for their training. And, of course, there he is.

Sukuna.

He looks gorgeous as always, smiling broadly about something Yuuji said to him as he skates casually over the ice, his helmet still off and under his arm, unaware that you are here to watch him. He isn't yet wearing his usual hockey jersey but a tight, black, long-sleeved compression shirt and his shoulder pads. It looks sinful on him, accentuating every muscle on his gorgeous body. Even from this distance, you can count his abs.

He looks beautiful. Especially with that genuine smile lighting up his face as he laughs with his brother.

You stare at him, following his every move, while trying to listen to your assignment partner's ideas. But she stops mid-sentence, and when you take it as a clue to look at her, she is grinning at you like the Cheshire Cat.

"So, Sukuna, huh?"

She jerks her chin toward the hockey team down on the ice, and you shake your head quickly, making a dismissive hand gesture.

"No, it's not like that."

She raises a skeptical eyebrow but leaves it at that. For a few minutes, the two of you work on the assignment while you steal the occasional glance at the rink.

The problem with the hockey arena is that it is cold as the ninth circle of hell. You hug yourself and rub your arms, shuddering in the chilly air of the arena. You didn't think you would work on the assignment here, or you would have brought a jacket.

It's right then that you suddenly hear your name called in that familiar, sexy, low voice.

You turn your head, unable to stop the big grin from spreading over your face, as you see Sukuna leaning against the boards beneath your seats, touching the plexiglass that separates the rink from the stands, and looking up at you.

"Are you here to bring me luck during training, too? You really take your job seriously, princess. I approve of that eagerness."

You laugh, playing along and making a salute gesture,

"Of course. I am always on duty, sir!"

Your little salute gets messed up by how violently you tremble from the cold, though. Sukuna raises an eyebrow, and his eyes travel over your body, over the thin t-shirt you are wearing.

"You're not dressed for the job, though. What are you doing, freezing your pretty ass off?"

You laugh,

"I didn't know I would spend an hour in here."

Sukuna huffs, brushing a stray strand of pink hair out of his forehead,

"Wait a sec."

He pushes himself off the boards and casually skates to the other side of the ice. You see him grab something from the bench where his stuff is. And then he glides back over the ice toward you with his sexy smirk on his tattooed face and his white team hoodie in his hand.

The sight makes your stomach flutter. You grin from ear to ear as Sukuna skates over to you, stopping at the boards and grinning up at you.

"Come down here and put that on, princess! I don't want my good luck charm to get a cold!"

You chuckle as you hurry down the stairs to the boards. Sukuna throws his hoodie over the plexiglass, and you catch it and quickly slip into it.

A blissful sigh leaves your lips. Sukuna's hoodie is so soft and warm, and it smells just like him, making your stomach tingle when you smell his fresh, sexy, boyish scent mixed with cigarette smoke and cherries.

You smile gratefully at the star player, who can actually be pretty nice contrary to his bad boy reputaion.

"Thank you, Sukuna."

Sukuna stands there, resting his chin on the back of his hand on his hockey stick as his beautiful maroon eyes slowly wander over you. There is something in his eyes that you haven't seen in his gaze before, but you can't quite name it.

All you know is that Sukuna's gaze lingers a lot longer than necessary on your body, which is now clad in his hoodie. He looks happy somehow, pleased, but there is also something darker in his eyes, almost like some primal hunger.

It makes you lick your lips nervously, but then Sukuna seems to shake himself out of it, and he smirks at you again, just as cocky as always, flirty and sweet-talking like a champ,

"You're welcome, princess. Anything for my lucky charm."

He skates back to where his teammates are doing practice shots, joining them immediately in full hockey star mode.

You feel oddly light-headed from the encounter with Sukuna and the feeling of his warm, comfy hoodie on your body, and his sexy scent in your nose as you walk back to your classmate.

She looks at you with an amused expression on her face and a "see, I told you so" attitude written all over her face.

"Oh yeah, it's clearly not like that at all, huh?"

You leave the arena huddled comfortably into Sukuna's hoodie, your hands shoved deep into the soft front pocket, smiling at how the hoodie looks more like a dress on you because of the height difference between you and Sukuna. It's making your tummy flutter a bit to imagine him wearing it before he gave it to you. Almost like you get an indirect feel of his tall, strong body. You bite your lip and try to chase that thought away. This is dangerous territory.

But the thing is, even when you are back in your dorm, you can't bring yourself to take off Sukuna's hoodie.

It's far too comfy and warm, and so you just stay in it the rest of the evening while preparing dinner and working on your assignment. It also smells so good. You catch yourself bringing the soft fabric up to your nose several times to inhale the fresh and seductive scent that is Itadori Sukuna. Fresh cologne, cigarette smoke, and cherries.

You tell yourself you will take the hoodie off before bed. It will be too warm to sleep in it anyway. Yes, definitely, you will change into one of your usual T-shirts!

Just five more minutes.

In the end, you stay in Sukuna's hoodie. But it is a bad idea, as you soon realize when you lie in your bed, and your mind gets flooded with images of Sukuna's sexy grin and his gorgeous tattooed body. You feel a bit guilty when your hand slips into your panties while you are still wearing the hoodie that smells like Sukuna. You don't want to be into him like that!

But you can't stop yourself, even though it feels kind of wrong to give in to the sudden urge to push your panties down so you can feel Sukuna's hoodie brush over your wet pussy, soaking the soft fabric with your arousal as a needy moan falls from your lips.

You imagine Sukuna lying in his bed with a hand down his pants, too, while he thinks of you in his hoodie and nothing else. And that thought leads to an all too sexy fantasy of you riding Sukuna on his bed while you're wearing his hoodie, and his large hands slip under it and wrap around your waist. And he's smirking at you and calling you princess and his lucky charm while you bounce on his lap until you cum all over his gorgeous cock.

You curse yourself a little for whispering his name when you cum so hard that your vision goes black for a moment.

I would SQUEAL internally if Sukuna gave me his hoodie ❤️❤️ And being his personal lucky charm sounds like the best job ever to me! AAAHH he just drives me insane!

Thank you so much for all the love for this AU!! I hope you enjoyed Chapter 3, too. Comments and reblogs would be very sweet ❤️

In Chapter 4, Reader and Sukuna end up in the locker room together. Let's see what that leads to ;)

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna fluff #sukuna x you #sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk fluff #sukuna x y/n #jjk x y/n #ryomen sukuna #{🏒❤️} hockey au

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