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science-hoes · 2 months ago

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A Ray of Fucking Sunshine

Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: patient violence, needles, injury, HIV mention, Santos

A/N: I literally cannot stop writing about this old man omg. But I love him. And he is a Good Man. Just some good fluff between an attending and his resident.

—

“I need a doctor!” A voice emerged from one of the exam rooms. “Please, I need a doctor!”

You looked up from your computer and over to Dana, who rolled her eyes. “Is it my turn?” You asked with hesitation.

The Pitt had been flooded as usual, and one of the psychiatric admissions was still being boarded in an exam room until a bed was available upstairs. Fred, the middle-aged opioid addict, was currently going through withdrawals, and he made sure everyone on the floor was aware. You felt bad for him because you know addiction is not entirely the fault of a patient, but Fred was verbally abusing every person who walked through the curtain to check on him.

Dana chuckled and walked over to your chair. “You’re up to bat, champ.” She patted you on the shoulder. “Think you’ll need backup? I can go in with you.”

You sighed and rubbed the aching dark circles under your eyes. “Not if he’s restrained. I’ll be fine.” You mumbled, kicking back on the floor so your chair rolled away from the desk.

You swung your stethoscope around your neck and walked through the curtain. There was Fred. He came in with tremors and sweats, but the withdrawal medication seemed to be helping for now. “Hey, Fred. I’m Dr. (L/N). What’s going on?” You asked, taking a seat on the stool next to the bed.

Fred shook his head. “No, I don’t want a fucking nurse. I want my doctor!” He screamed.

You squinted at his loud voice. “Sir, I am a doctor. Now, how can I help you?” You asked again, with the same patience as before.

“Give me my fucking medicine right now, bitch. I’m not playing any games.” He growled.

You moved to the computer to look up his chart. “I think Dr. Langdon already gave you medicine about thirty minutes ago. What symptoms are you having?” You replied calmly, not taking his anger to heart.

“I want my fucking pills.” He hissed, struggling against the fabric restraints tied to the gurney.

You turned to look at him and sighed. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t do that for you.” You turned back to the computer to search for the time on his next medicine. “I know you are feeling really bad right now, but the pills will not help you in the-”

You were cut off by your head being yanked back by your hair with strong force. You let out a startled scream and twisted around to look at Fred. He had gotten out of one of his arm restraints, and before you could cry out for assistance, you felt pressure on your cheek. Naturally, your eyes squinted shut when you saw a hand coming at you, so you didn’t see that he was wielding a scalpel. Before you could open your eyes, a closed fist knocked you to the ground.

“I told you to give me my fucking pills, you cunt.” He snarled and spat on you.

The curtain swung open to reveal Langdon and Robby, who both looked ready to tackle Fred if he was free. You crawled away from the bed and shakily stood up.

“Dana, call for security!” Robby yelled out as he and Langdon grabbed Fred’s free arm and tried to tie it back down to the rails of the bed. The metal clang of the scalpel dropping to the tile fell deaf on your ears.

You ran out of the room as a security guard bumped into you, causing you to stumble. Luckily, Dana was there to catch you. “Hey, I’ve got you.” She assured you. But then she stood you up straight, seeing red streaks on your face and dripping to your neck. “Oh, holy shit.”

You felt numb. Numb to everything. Even the pain in your face couldn’t bring you back to reality. “I just…” You mumbled, looking around. All of the nurses and doctors had their eyes on you. It was overwhelming, and the fluorescent lights started to burn your eyes.

And then your cheek began to hurt. The pain seeped across your face, and hot tears pricked your eyes.

You didn’t even realize that Dana had snatched gauze from a patient’s room. She pressed it to your cheek firmly. “Collins, get over here!” She called out.

You sat down in the chair you had abandoned only two minutes before. Collins ran over to you and tilted your head up with a gentle hand.

“Oh, sweetie, what happened?” She asked sincerely, lifting the gauze delicately.

You winced as fresh air hit the cut. “I don’t know. I think he hit me. And he pulled my hair.” You responded, still in shock.

Collins winced at the wound and replaced the gauze. “I don’t know, that looks like a pretty deep cut.”

Before long, the med students and interns surrounded your chair. You reached a hand to your cheek and carefully pulled the gauze away, finally seeing how much blood had flooded the cloth.

“Oh, shit. That definitely needs stitches.” Santos commented.

If you could roll your eyes, you would have. But you were focused on not puking your guts out in front of the team.

“I shouldn’t have turned my back to him.” You mumbled.

Mohan shook her head. “No way. That is not your fault. Sure, never let a patient get between you and the door. But you shouldn’t have to keep eyes on the patient at all times to ensure your safety.” She redirected.

You closed your eyes, but you could hear others agreeing with her. The pain and attention was too much to handle. You just wanted to be alone. So, you stood slowly. Dana held a hand to your back as you did.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She asked. “You might need a CT.”

You looked to her sluggishly. “I just need some air. I’m just going to the empty room.” You said before quickly escaping from the crowd.

You swished the curtain open and shut. The light above the bed was out, perfect for some peace and quiet. You sat on the bed and crossed your legs. The pain from your cheek was becoming more unbearable by the second as the adrenaline wore off. You closed your eyes and pressed the gauze harder against your skin.

You were incredibly embarrassed. Maybe you were too naive. Fred had a history of violence toward healthcare workers, and you still turned away from him. Trusting him as innocently as a child would. It wasn’t the first time that you underestimated a patient. Langdon always chastised you for being too trusting.

The curtain opened, and you could see the light from the Pitt through your closed eyes. “Dana, please let me have a minute.” You begged.

“I think she’s already given you two minutes.” Robby’s voice responded.

You opened your eyes, and you saw Robby standing in the doorway with a suture pack in his hands. “Oh. I’m sorry, Dr. Robby.” You responded, slightly embarrassed.

Robby smiled and shut the curtain behind him. “No need.” He said and stood over the bed. “Why don’t you let me see what we’re working with?” And tapped your hand holding the gauze.

You moved your hand away from your face and winced. “It’s fine. Just stings a little.” You lied through clenched teeth.

Robby chuckled and shook his head. “No, ma’am. That’s gonna need at least five stitches.” He said.

You watched him move to the side of the room and grab a syringe of lidocaine and some more gauze. He turned the overhead exam light on, and you furrowed your brow at the brightness.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he sat down on the bed next to you. He titled your chin up and began patting down your neck with the extra gauze, cleaning the blood that had dripped from your cheek.

Honestly, you weren’t okay. You felt like you had been taken advantage of, but you didn’t lose anything besides your pride. And a few precious minutes of charting. You felt silly for thinking that a hostile patient wouldn’t lash out at you, even though he had screamed at someone as sweet as Mel King. You felt the tears prick your eyes again, and your bottom lip quivered.

Robby stopped cleaning your face as soon as he met your eyes. “Oh, no. Sweetie, please don’t cry.” He begged and tilted your head back. “The tears are gonna make the cut hurt even more. Just wait for me to inject the lidocaine.” He said.

You swallowed thickly, taking in shaky but deep breaths. You felt his hand grab one of yours and squeezing tightly. “I’m sorry.” You managed to whisper.

Robby made quick work of the cleanup and grabbed the lidocaine syringe. He pulled his black-rimmed glasses out of the pocket of his scrub top and placed them on the bridge of his nose. “Don’t apologize, dear.” He let go of your hand to place his on under your chin to stabilize your head. “Okay. I’m about to inject the lidocaine, and it’s going to burn like hell for a few seconds.” He warned, peering over his glasses to meet your gaze.

You saw the syringe in his hand. The needle wasn’t that big. You knew that. You gave the same injection to patients every shift. But as the needle slowly moved closer to your face, your breathing hitched, and you pulled away from his grasp.

“No, no, I can’t.” You struggled to say through labored breaths.

Robby held his hands up, as if to show you that he wasn’t going to make a sneak attack with the syringe. “(Y/L/N). Look at me. Look at my eyes.” He said, lifting his glasses to rest on the crown of his head.

And so you did. His dark chocolate eyes were framed with permanent laugh lines. Even when he was in a pissy mood, he would smile with sarcasm or exasperation. You didn’t even realize that your breathing had slowed as the silence grew between you. Robby placed the lidocaine syringe on the tray next to the bed, but never broke eye contact.

“Tell me what’s going through your mind.” He said.

You didn’t answer immediately. It almost seemed like a trap. Admitting your insecurities and shortcomings to your boss that he could use as leverage or blackmail whenever he saw fit. But something about his face seemed sincere and almost…worried.

“I’m just…embarrassed. Overwhelmed.” You whispered, finally admitting it out loud.

Robby nodded. “Okay. Those are reasonable feelings to have after an event like that.” He affirmed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head. “No. I’m sorry for being a bitch about the lidocaine. I’m ready now.” You said quickly.

Robby reached for the syringe again and placed a hand under your chin. “Okay. I’m going to make a few injections around the cut. It’ll be over before you know it.” He said and tilted his glasses back down.

You closed your eyes and waited. The needle inserting wasn’t painful, but the lidocaine burned like a motherfucker. You furrowed your brow, trying not to scrunch your face in pain.

“That’s a good girl.” Robby praised as he inserted the needle into your skin again.

Oh. That wasn’t something you expected to hear from him. You opened your eyes to see Robby meticulously moving the needle around your cheek, his mouth open just slightly in concentration. You hoped that your face had already been flushed from the anxiety and pain because you could definitely feel the heat rising up your neck. Suddenly you realized just how close Robby was to you. Even while you both sat at the edge of the bed, he was all but cradling you as he worked.

“And done. How does it feel?” He said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You raised a hand to your cheek and pressed gently. “Oh. I don’t feel anything.” You said, huffing a small laugh.

“Great. That means I can start sewing you up.” He said.

Robby opened the suture kit and began to sort out its contents. You watched him grab the utensils he needed and the suture thread. “Thank you for doing this.” You said.

He turned back to you, ready to start suturing away. “It's the least I can do. I’m upset that one of my residents got attacked under my watch.” He responded, inserting the suture needle. But you didn’t feel it. “After this, I’m gonna write you a prescription for a PEP antiretroviral and do some blood tests.”

Your eyes widened. “For HIV?”

Robby met your eyes for a moment before looking back to your cheek. “Yes, Dr. (Y/L/N). Fred is HIV positive. And while we don’t think the scalpel he cut you with had his own bodily fluids on it, your health comes first. We have to treat because of the risk, even though it’s slim to none.” He explained.

Your heart fell to your stomach, and the tears that you managed to hold back before began to spill over your eyes. “I’m so fucking stupid.” You breathed.

Robby pulled tightly on a suture before beginning the next one. “Hey. Don’t talk like that.” He said. “This is not your fault.”

Your lip quivered, and you looked to the ceiling to try and stop more tears. “Langdon is right. I’m fucking naive. I shouldn’t have ever turned my back to Fred. I knew what he was capable of.”

Robby sighed heavily and tied off the last suture. He placed the instruments back on the metal tray. But then he grabbed one of your hands and lifted his glasses with the other. “You are a good doctor, (Y/N). You are not naive. You are one of the last good people around here.” He said honestly.

Your cheeks flushed again, but you shook your head. “I need to start thinking more like Langdon, like Santos, like…like you.” You said.

Robby frowned, almost in disappointment. “I don’t want you to ever be like me. You are a ray of fucking sunshine, and you make everyone around you smile. Even me.” He said. “As soon as you walk in the room, it gets brighter.”

You smiled slightly. “I can make you smile?” You asked shyly.

Robby chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his feet. “Yeah. Yeah, you do.” He replied. “Sometimes you’re the only good thing about my day. The days where you’re off and I’m here…those are a lot darker.”

You watched your attending fidget with his hands in his lap nervously. You placed one of yours over them. Robby looked up to you, and you felt a real connection this time, deeper than holding each other’s gaze. He held your small hand in both of his.

“Well…you’re making a really shitty day turn into a good one.” You said.

Robby smiled, and the laugh lines around his eyes crinkled. You didn’t realize how close the two of you had naturally inched towards each other until you could feel his breath on your nose and smell his scent. A mixture of coffee and what had to be Old Spice deodorant.

You weren’t sure who leaned in first. But Robby’s lips pressed against yours in a sweet, gentle kiss. His nose brushed against yours, nuzzling your uninjured cheek. You grinned at the feeling of his mouth peppering small kisses across your face.

“Does this make it better?” He asked in between little kisses.

You placed a hand on his neck, fingers reaching up to stroke his hair. You finally pressed your forehead against his to catch his eyes. “All better, Dr. Robby.” You said before giving him another kiss.

#michael robinavitch x reader #michael robinavitch #the Pitt #Noah wyle #doctor robby #doctor Robby x reader #dr Robby #Dr Robby x reader

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kiss-me-muchoo · 4 months ago

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𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 || 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ when you declined to play Ddakji with a man, the least you expected was him stalking you, even less expected when you oblige him to lick your bleeding wound after seeing him kill a man and escaping him.

warnings_ MDNI, age gap (not specified but legal) reader is a foreigner (implied American but not specified again), stalking, NO KIDNAPPING NOR ABUSE HERE, blood play, dom!salesman, switch!reader, toxic till the end, sexual innuendos, manipulation, questionable morals, do not romanticize this irl pls, NO PROOFREAD YET

notes_ I’ll just drop this fic and leave it there bc why am i feeling so horny for an Asian sociopath? me la estoy pasando bien raro (i like it)

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 this man

✰ Index (+ fics here)

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Everything was irritating. The class you had was canceled last minute, the crowd at the train station was loud, the tapping of a kid in a window was constant, and the message you received asking for your campus ID to keep using your student account was sudden and required immediate action. Your cramps and migraine only aggravate everything.

You were steps away from the stairs when you stopped to take the damn picture of your ID and be done with that. But of course, you couldn’t find your wallet at first glance, so you moved aside to take a better look.

You worried about kneeling and ruining your black coat with the dirtiness of the floor at the station, but at the same time, you thought it was just stupid.

A trail of curses flooded your mind as you tried to find your wallet, making you oblivious to a random man walking in your direction.

“Excuse me, Miss… Would you like to play Ddakji?” Said man asked you in Korean. You were occupied with a hand inside your thrifted designer tote, and your mind unconsciously prepared an answer in English.

“Sorry, I don’t have time” When you realized your mid-answer you sighed, just as you fished out your wallet. “For every win of yours, you’ll earn a great sum of cash”

Once you stood up, you met the face of the man who now answered in English as well. Very tall, handsome, innocent smile and in a suit; a businessman. You knew it was wrong to judge but there was something behind the smile he offered you that resulted eerie.

Like behind that seemingly blameless expression, the man was hiding his true intentions.

Might’ve been your eyes or hair that caught his attention. You weren’t native, and he didn’t want to think he could take advantage, yet his feet dragged him to you.

Placing your bag over your shoulder again, you grab your sunglasses and phone with tangled EarPods. You give the man one last look. You are not having a good day and you don’t have time to deal with this.

“What do you say?” He asks feigning kindness, eyeing you subtly without your knowledge.

“No, thank you. I don’t even know how the game works”

“You look like you are a natural. You might be surprised if you try. You just have to pick a color and try to flip the opposing tile”

The rich always trying to fuck the one who isn’t. This was just a new way. The urge to roll your eyes grew but you remained still.

“Look, I’m sorry. But I bet you do this just to see how desperate people who need money can go. I won’t be one of them. If not, sorry for misjudging you, sir” you harshly say before putting on your EarPods and leaving the station. You leave him perplexed, huffing in disbelief and igniting a fire of curiosity inside him.

And you completely forgot about the Ddakji man as you made it to your little apartment, not knowing he would turn upside down your upcoming days.

…

Warm days in winter were exciting for you. They boosted your energy and made you want to be out all day.

You had the luck of living in a beautiful complex because it was once from a friend of your mother who married years ago and now had her single apartment for rent.

It had long warm hallways that hosted at least eight apartments by floor. With orange and pink subtle lights and uneven edges. It was truly a sight despite how little the apartments were. One bedroom with closet and bathroom, a tiny studio, small kitchen, enough space for a dining table, another small bathroom, and a living room with balcony.

Your loneliness was well-balanced because you loved your home. But even on warm days, you wanted to be out.

Your red shoes contrasted with everything you stepped on. You carried a bag with a bunch of books and another one with thrifted clothes you bought.

At the park you always walked by, there was a fair amount of people as usual. You don’t care much to look around but someone makes you stare longer than needed.

The same man who asked if you wanted to play a game at the station was at the park. Another impeccable suit dressing him, looking attractive like the first time and already looking at you.

He offered you a smile, to which you didn’t reply. You looked at the ground, feeling like you had frozen.

What a weirdo, he offered bread and a random paper to a lonely man.

Simultaneously, you wondered if the man found you attractive enough to stare like that. With your mind that often became nihilistic, you thought you were delusional and that you should just keep walking.

His eyes remained glued to you. As his prey was thinking about what was better to choose, he contemplated you walking again.

The salesman realized he had made you nervous and that made him feel eager to end his job and follow you again.

Once he realized you lived in a good neighborhood, where his elegant suits matched the vibe, he got even more excited to see you again.

So now, it was meant to be.

How sweet, sophisticated, and innocent you looked.

Something shifted, as you passed by his side, only having a view of his back, you assumed he worked out, his hair looked perfectly fine, and his big hands offered two things. Perhaps you had misjudged him and he really wanted to help. But your inner voice said otherwise. In a sudden change of events, you decided to look back once you were almost at the exit of the park.

With his deep gaze still set on you, your lips formed a smile.

And he took it as a first win in the games that had begun between you two.

…

Once again, you find yourself in the library. Inside one of the biggest malls you’ve been to, you are leaning at a counter, asking if they have an English translation of a book you were interested in.

Your Korean isn’t good enough yet, so as the nice librarian disappeared to find your request, you are working on your next reply, with a translation app.

“Do you recommend me this one?” your back arched as a startled reflex. You quickly stand straight and turn around to see the person you grew anxious to avoid and see again. The salesman is there, looking up and down at you with a perfectly orchestrated smile.

“Huh?” you ask disconcertingly, he shows you a book, his face looking like he had found a wounded little bird. But it was only you, startled and nervous by his strong presence.

The book is The Divine Comedy. Dante Alighieri.

“Certainly is a good one. A lot of heavenly justice…” you say trying to sound confident, looking at the cover of the book. Displaying the layers that separated heaven from hell. “Do you believe in heavenly justice, miss?”

“I don’t know. We can’t call someone a sinner without a proper trial beforehand” he chuckles, which makes you frown for a second. He truly was unpredictable and you didn’t like that. “Ah, sinners. Always misjudged and harshly punished for being the ones who have the guts to make things…” his deep voice and tone made you wonder if he was self-perceived as a sinner, which made you feel worse.

“You sound like an ethnocentric…”

“I don’t think I’m far into that type of thinking, y/n” Your eyes almost popped out, leaving your hands in an anxious tremble.

“How is it possible that you know my name?” Before he can even answer, you add more. “You are stalking me”

His demonic smile makes your heart stop. The smile you once thought had innocence can’t blind you anymore. He isn’t innocent. He literally confirmed he was stalking you and you didn’t know how to feel.

“I don’t like the idea that conveys the word ‘stalking’. We can call it predestination…” you huff in disbelief. “What do you want with me?”

“I would like to get to know the woman who rejected my Ddakji offer. And ask for one more game” Your lips form a line, and quietly you are hating how much you are enjoying the conversation.

“Hmm, I’m bad at most games, so I’m afraid I will reject you once again” You turned back again to see if the librarian was coming when you felt him stepping closer, which made you feel nervous again.

“I might believe you. I always win…” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers through your spine and creating a lot of tension.

Your psycho mode almost made you lean forward again, daring to see if some friction was possible. But you didn’t, trying to be prudent and acting sane.

“I would’ve wanted a normal first interaction and this time you should’ve asked me out on a date. That’s how it works where I come from but… here, I guess not” he stepped aside as the librarian handed you the book. And as you thanked her and turned to leave and pay somewhere else, he took out a card and handed it to you.

“I’m sure we can work on some sort of arrangement. Here, you may call me…” slightly irritated that he didn’t say much about your inquiry, you snatched the card and walked away.

The cathartic feelings of wanting to keep talking to him and running away from him at the same time resulted in excruciating. It didn’t make sense, the point of him was to nowhere. Being clueless about his age, name, and everything made it feel wrong. Yet, curiosity was starting to burn you.

…

Like a miracle, the heavens moved and sprinkled some luck above you. You found some friends on campus, they spoke English like you and were foreigners as well. One of them was a friend of the owner of a club and invited you for the night.

The invitation made you forgetful about your salesman, whom you hadn’t talked with since the encounter in the library. The card he handed the last time rested between the book you bought the same day, making you unable to read more because it reminded you of the last encounter with him.

It resulted unknown to you when was that your life had turned over the edge of becoming twisted. Your feelings for a mysterious man who seemed more accusable than appeared remained undecided.

He made you feel like a wildfire and a caged bird at the same time. Delicate but menacing.

He seemed older than you, professional in a field, mature and imposing. Which you didn’t mind when he appeared to ask you about The Divine Comedy. Either way, you were playing but couldn’t risk anything. Especially in a country where you didn’t know how everything worked.

After getting out of the shower, your thoughts on the salesman are completely faded. You slip on a sequin dress and paint your eyes with glitter and a smokey style.

Thereafter, at the club you let yourself go and have a wild night. Between classes, essays, and the issue with the salesman, you needed a time out.

Everything feels nice when you take a bathroom break and you smile at your reflection. You know you are close to be drunk, it’s the most enjoyable stage of ingesting alcohol.

“Hey, let’s go dancing, I couldn’t find you before!” Yells one of your friends after you reunite with the little group. You nod excitedly, taking her hand and letting her take you to the dance floor.

The music reminded you of that time when spinnin records music was a trend and everyone played their mixes at parties back at home. As you move along the track, you don’t look at anything in particular, you just feel interesting and sexy. But your eyes end up giving a quick glance at one table, almost making you stop your euphoric moment.

You swore you saw your salesman.

Looking around you don’t see him, so you return dancing but the odd sensation in your chest doesn’t let you rest.

“What happens?” Asks another friend, looking worried.

“Nothing. Just thought I saw someone. Never mind…” you shake your head, smiling and convincing them that everything is fine.

But once they got more drunk to notice your departure, you walked out, despite curiosity, you wanted to confirm if the tall gorgeous man was near you.

Rarely you bring up to question your life decisions. Not because you thought you were perfect, but because you easily accepted your errors.

And it wasn’t hard to accept you completely messed up by getting out of the club. Where the night was colder, and some steps away from the main entrance, the crowd was loud. A man could be heard pleading and sobbing, which made you fearful but eager to see what was happening.

You peeked at the alley beside the club. A wave of shock flooded you once you noticed another man was punching the one who yelped and sobbed for forgiveness.

Your salesman was the attacker.

“Please! I’ll pay everything back!” Your mind raced back to the moment you spotted your salesman inside the club minutes ago.

His dark grey suit didn’t fit the aura of the place, but he seemed to be talking with the same man he was now punching.

It was obvious at that point that he wasn’t a good man. He made fun of making people play his seemingly innocent games to later laugh in their faces whenever they lost. He was never flirting with you, the odd feeling of uncertainty you felt with him was right.

You had to go. You had to burn the card he gave you, avoid the station where you met him, and forget about his face.

There’s panic in your system, your heart beats fast and nausea starts coming up your throat.

You want to get immediately drunk and forget everything you saw with a hangover. You need it.

But you don’t get very far. Midway through the stairs that conduct to the club, a hand holds your forearm with extreme pressure and drags you inside a private room.

Your salesman finally found you.

…

“You just killed a man!” you almost yelled as soon as he pushed you inside and closed the door.

The room was very fancy like the club. It had a big desk near a window, flower-shaped hanging lamps, black sparkly floor tiles, and a sage velvet couch.

Your salesman slides his fingers through his hair and looks at the ceiling before turning to you. One hand still carrying the murder weapon.

“He deserved it” was all he answered and you take a breath. In need of an alibi, you opened a random fridge in the room and grabbed a beer. Your salesman watched how you sipped at the can. He knew you were feeling a mix of curiosity and disgust for him.

Once you drink at least half of the content, you sigh, brushing aside some hair and walking towards him.

“Who are you?” you ask pleadingly, desperate to know how far you’ve gone for him.

“Eventually you’ll know” he sounds cold, calculating, and menacing. “You didn’t call…”

He was taking advantage of your vulnerability.

“I met you a week ago, I don’t even know your name” you admit with shame and dissatisfaction.

For the first time, he genuinely touches you. Hands straight to your waist, making gasp in surprise.

“You’re smart and will eventually understand. You’re my good girl”

His good girl….

What was left to do when you have a sociopath holding your waist with the same hands he had used to kill a man? Play along, even if you are terrified.

What had been your horrified face, slowly ends up in a smirk, tilting your head, squandering cheekiness. “I’m not your good girl, sir”

He slowly leaned back, taking a seat on the sage couch, one of his hands going straight to rest behind his head, against the wall. He twirled the knife against his knee, making you uneasy, but confident about your upcoming words.

“If I walk away, you can’t do much with me, I’m a foreigner. Sure the authorities would dismantle whatever dirty job you’re into and that’s a big no-no” you explain, and feeling a little too bold, you step between his legs.

“Your lack of ignorance amazes me” he admits, offering you a cocky smile. “It makes me even more infatuated”

Your left knee pushed aside his hand twirling the knife. He remained still but sure seemed slightly surprised when you ended up straddling him. With your hands glued to his dark tie, putting it into place.

“Hmm, well, be careful. I am no threat, I barely have valuable skills to get rid of you but I know I could be a problem. So I guess I won, sir…” you allow yourself to smile, following a path with your fingers, from his tie to his cheeks and nose, softly tracing his pale skin.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart” You knew he was trying to be in control, and the best part was that you weren’t fighting for it.

“There’s a lot I might not understand. I’m just a girl who happened to be in this city for a temporary academic project” When your lips brushed his, you couldn’t deny he was so fucking hot, you wished he wasn’t so weird and probably part of a mafia or cult or whatever. “You are the grown-ass man who got obsessed with me”

“I just find you an odd but interesting player, sweet girl” he tried to use his innocent smile but it was useless when you grabbed him by the shoulders and finally dared to kiss him.

He controlled it the moment he touched you again. His hands had a possessive sting and firmly grabbed you by the hips. One of them still holding the knife.

Feeling bold, with adrenaline flowing freely, you softly bit his lower lip. You knew it was over when he almost let out a moan, and after checking he had his eyes closed, you literally jumped away from him.

Without looking back, you started running. Your clumsy steps turn frantic, knowing damn well he would start following you soon. As you literally start pushing people to get out, your heart beats faster than ever and you have a growing anxiety, begging you to stop and breathe.

Once the cold air hit you, as you took a cab and saw no sign of your salesman, confusion struck you and you saw the blood in your chest and arm.

“Are you alright, girl?” The driver asked, also watching your bleeding state.

“Yes, just an accident, I’m okay” he nods unsure, but starts driving after you give him your destination.

His knife must’ve sliced your skin when you stood up from his lap. When he moved one of his big hands to caress your chin.

It wasn’t that you were scared of him, of your salesman. Although you should be; but you weren’t. Could it be that the worst part was that you were attracted to him? Even after watching him kill a man? You were screwed.

You realize the reason why you always ran away from him is because you don’t know how to face his unpredictable demeanor.

At that point, you didn’t know what he wanted. Only that he was obsessed with you. But his intentions remained a mystery unsolved.

Before getting out of the cab, you pay and send your friends a message that you left early because you got a headache after vomiting. This didn’t happen, but would’ve been better to not experience it as a young woman in her twenties.

…

When you opened the door, he was already inside. The worst part is that you weren’t surprised anymore. You only stood at the feet of the door, looking at him with uneasiness.

“You got me worried,” he says, stopping his movements around your table. “You left some blood stains and I thought it was serious”

“You accidentally showed me your true nature. A little bit of blood shouldn’t scare you” his shirt indeed had some bloody spots, his blazer was gone, and the sleeves of his messy shirt were rolled up. You hated that your first thought was that he looked very hot.

He moved and took a seat at one of your tables. He sighed and you realized that perhaps he was also screwed up. For letting himself go too far for you.

“I don’t regret any encounter we’ve had,” he says. “Me neither”

He can’t stop staring at your bloodstained dress and you notice.

Fuck everything, you thought.

I’m attracted to him, he’s attracted to me, What’s the worst thing that could happen? (I don’t want to know).

“Silly boy, look what you did to me,” you say looking at the soaked fabric.

Something possessed you at that moment. Your hands went straight to lift your dress. His eyes trailed your sparkly underwear, your lower belly, and your ribs that rose and fell as you breathed.

Your hands twirl behind your back to unhook your bra; also soaked, throwing it to the floor.

Your salesman is quiet, his innocent smile about to fall because you know you have taken him by surprise.

Likely you’ll get a scar. The wound being slightly deep, an uneven line that passed from your neck to your shoulder.

You step forward, confidently eyeing him.

“Clean it” he tried to stand up, probably to grab a med kit but you stopped him with your heel. “With your mouth. Lick it clean…”

He gulped.

His manspread became the only thing you could care about. How he eyed you with lust and possession for some seconds, and then to lean forwards.

Once again his hands landed on the curves of your hips and he made you step up, leaving him inches away from you.

Your sudden surgation grew and his hot tongue finally made contact with your skin.

You savored the feeling of his tongue, knowing he wouldn’t clean anything but the semi-dry blood over your breast. He was only making a mess.

Then, he lifts his head and catches your lips in a sullied kiss. The way he held you, made you understand how he always wanted control. Above anything.

“I will be gone within time. You can ruin me while it lasts…” you blurt out, panting for air.

“I’ll ruin you. But I don’t want to rip you apart. That’s pointless…” he admits in your lips, blood near your chin that he wipes out. “You’re the most fun I’ve had in years. My little toy…”

“Alright, I’ll be your toy” he nods, kissing you again. “Know that my lips are sealed when it comes to you”

“And you won’t have to worry about anything again…” you moan on his lips when he pulls your hair and finally makes you lay on your once new carpet, now displaying some splotches of blood.

“I don’t need your money”

“Don’t you want to make your mother proud and relieved from student debts? From rent?” You can’t think straight. “It’s not correct…”

“None of this is, y/n. Now shut your mouth and spread your legs, toy”

It’s wrong, immoral, a complete madness. You know everything will change once the night dies and the morning comes. But as much as you tried to communicate to him that you weren’t scared, you knew it was over, you’ve gotten too deep into his shit.

“Farewell to my purity” you whisper in his ear and it’s enough to make his eyes turn darker, full of lust.

Everything that consoles purity would be gone from you. And the fact that you were ready scared you. But once his hands started meeting places across your body, you welcomed the sin.

As well as your mind seized thinking. Not caring about the consequences.

_______________________________________________

If you ask for more I will provide

Quién me manda a escribir estas mamadas? I’m just ovulating.

#gong yoo x reader #the salesman x reader #squid game x reader #squid game x y/n #squid game x you #gong yoo

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yappacadaver · 2 years ago

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anyway if i had to forcefeed him a video game that would make him BETTER not WORSE it would be dragon age origins

#you know his ass could never play a video game but i am spitballing #sir lets microdose meaningful human interaction and put the world back together despite our glaring flaws #in a place where most questions can be answered through lore research which has already been sorted and categorized for u messy ass #take my hand and go to a place where you can just beat a demons head in with a hammer and that works just fine #convince yourself the pixels are real people and your actual friends and then get legit sad when you piss them off #cheat death if you want it's swagever

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justaz · 1 year ago

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country bumpkin merlin not knowing anything about city life and accidentally courting arthur without knowing

merlin, watching gwen give lancelot her favor: why do you do that

gwen, heart eyes at lance and not paying that much attention to the conversation: so he knows i’m rooting for him

merlin, with an Idea: ah.

gwaine, lover of chaos, pisser offer of nobles and royals alike, ultimate wingman: merlin…you have such lonely lips. shall i introduce them to mine?

merlin, unaware of the game gwaine is playing: so you can steal my breath away? i think not, scoundrel

arthur, crushing his goblet in his hand:

merlin: arthur’s been in a bad mood recently :( i should cheer him up

merlin, remembering when arthur was put out when merlin brought morgana flowers and not him: i know just the thing

merlin, bringing a bouquet of carnations, roses, and tulips and setting them on arthur’s table while he’s eating breakfast: good morning, sire

arthur, trained on flower language in hopes that one day when he was to take a queen he could woo her easily, trying not to audibly choke on his sausage as he reads merlin’s declaration of love sitting in front of him:

arthur, who recently found out about merlin’s magic and was trying to find a way to bring it up, catching him in the act and watching merlin panic to explain himself:

merlin, Freaking: and i swear to you arthur, i have only ever used it for you. my magic is yours. my life is yours. i am yours. i would never do anything to harm you. i have protected you for years and will continue to do so at your side if you’ll have me

arthur, already believing them to be courting, desperately trying to figure out if that was a proposal for marriage or not but tired of being confused and deciding fuck it: here.

merlin, taking it: i…uh…huh?

arthur, watching merlin with hawk eyes and trying to figure out what he’s thinking and feeling: it’s my mothers sigil

merlin, confused as FUCK but is focusing on the fact that arthur is handing him something of his mother rather than a death sentence: my…my lord?

arthur, realizing how scared merlin’s must be about him finding out about his magic and trying to comfort him while also proposing, killing two birds with one stone: i will always keep you at my side, merlin, so long as we both shall live. if you’ll allow me.

merlin, almost collapsing with relief and tearing up, smiling at arthur as if he had parted the storm clouds to allow sun to shine down on them in that moment: of course…of course, arthur. always and forever.

merlin, watching the castle staff rush this way and that: wow. this banquet must be incredibly important

sir leon the long suffering, day one ride or die, one of the original merthur shippers: banquet? merlin, this is for your wedding

merlin, overworked and exhausted: my WHAT? to WHO??

leon, regretting everything he’s ever done in his life that led him to this moment: to…arthur?

merlin, over joyed but also absolutely befuddled: i’m getting married to ARTHUR?????

leon: you two have been courting for the past year or so, have you not?

merlin: i’ve been COURTING ARTHUR?????? FOR A YEAR?????????

#merthur #i spent like an hour researching medieval courting rituals to make this #and even then #i did not find much #so if there’s someone out there who is like weirdly knowledgeable about 6th century courting rituals #feel free to add on #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin emrys #sir gwaine #sir leon #sir lancelot #guinevere #i literally started this post bc i was thinking about the misunderstanding between merlin and gwen and merlin’s giving arthur his favor #and then i kept going #but i didn’t have much else in the ole noggin to write #i’m sorry #please forgive me

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sugarwarachan · 11 days ago

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aizawa shouta: A—Z nsfw headcanons

andy's notes: here's to my favorite super-sleepy hero, and to the people on this app who are as obsessed with him as i am.

cws: smut nsfw, 18+, many many warnings lmao but some highlights: breeding, oral (f and m receiving), dirty talk, brat taming, dom/sub, masturbation, sex toys, Daddy/sir kink

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

One of the best at aftercare in terms of emotional check-ins. He’s rerouting your synapses every time you fuck, so he makes sure to bring you back down to earth gently. He always confirms with you that you liked everything (and if you didn’t, what to do next time) while holding you close and playing with your hair.

B = Body part (favorite body part, their own or their lover’s)

Ass. Man. 👏 Loves smacking it, laying on it, watching it jiggle when you walk or popped high in the air when you suck his cock.

On him? Probably his hands (mostly because you won’t stop drooling over them and begging him to choke off your air supply).

C = Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Big ol' breeding kink for this man, so expect him to cum inside you CONSTANTLY. He's also not big on masturbating, so when he cums, he cums a LOT.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory)

Loves to cum on your face. A part of him feels guilty, but the primal side of him wins out every time he sees his creamy seed all over your pretty lips.

E = Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

I don’t see him as much of a one-night stand kind of guy, but he’s had a few serious partners and learned what he likes.

F = Favorite position

Doggy or missionary. (He’s an old man and he likes what he likes.)

Doggy because he likes to manhandle your hips and ass while he's grunting into your cunt.

Missionary for the intimacy and the eye contact. He loves to say the nastiest shit while you looking you right in the eye.

G = Goofy (how serious are they)

He’s not cracking jokes by any means, but he loves to tease you and make you blush.

H = Hair (grooming habits)

Y'all, this dude is a MAN. Constant five-o-clock shadow that scratches at your inner thighs until he grows it out enough to be soft. Dark hair on his chest that tapers down to the yummiest happy trail. Well-maintained pubic hair. If he’s not dating someone, he’ll let it get a little crazy, but cleans it up as soon as he has someone.

I = Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

He’s a mixture of both, and you never know what you’re gonna get *faints* You'll be in the middle of the filthiest fuck of your life, and Aizawa will randomly start telling you how beautiful you are and how much he wants to marry you.

J = Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

I don’t know why, but I do not see this man masturbating unless he’s as down bad as he can go. Like he feels insane because he’s twisting his cock like a teenager over you.

K = Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

I think he’s experimental and willing to discover kinks with you BUT his main ones: breeding, breath play, edging/overstimulation, brat taming, D/s, daddy/sir kink, somnophilia

L = Location (where they like to get it on)

Prefers to fuck you somewhere private.

Within your own home, though, any room is fair game. If he had to pick, he would say the bedroom first (he's a romantic), and the kitchen second (because of how many times he’s eaten you out on the counter).

M = Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

Intelligence/competency. If you're really good at your job/super knowledgeable about a subject, he's grabbing the back of your neck and dragging you off to the bedroom.

Otherwise, he’s a pretty simple guy: lingerie, red lipstick, his old shirt... doesn't matter. He’s into YOU.

N = No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

Don’t really see him being into pegging. no matter how much I might want this

O = Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

He’s a giver!! Loves nothing more than making you go dumb on his tongue over and over again. He’s patient, too, so he always winds you up to the edge and holds you there until you’re wailing at him to let you cum.

When you return the favor, he’s the most appreciative motherfucker on earth. Raining praise on you about how well you suck his cock.

P = Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

Strong, measured strokes. He doesn’t like to go fast unless he’s worked you up and you’re begging him to.

Q = Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

He doesn’t hate quickies but he certainly doesn’t love them.

R = Risk (do they like to try new things)

Depends on his partner. If you want to try new things, he's happy to oblige. But I don't think he would be disappointed if you weren't naturally willing to take risks or try new things all the time.

S = Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

Okay, I love him, but he is tired. I think on a good day, he can do two or three rounds if you give him some time to recover, but he usually prefers one long session and a long cuddle after.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

Definitely the type to see sex toys as an important addition to the bedroom and not as competition.

however

Say he's out on a mission and specifically tells you not to use your vibrator until he gets home... and you ignore that? expect to be denied your orgasm for hours

U = Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

Literally all he has to do is rest his hand on your lower back and whisper into your ear that he wants to go home and you're ready for him.

V = Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

King of talking you through it. Once he finds out you like his voice, he uses it to his advantage (see above lmao). Can get you wet just by saying a few key phrases. Tends to grunt and groan during the act itself. Whimpers only when he’s really sensitive and you suckle the tip of his cock.

W = Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

Maybe this is just me projecting, but CNC 🤭

X = X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

7 inches and girthy. Like you need prep every time kind of girthy. Nice little curve to the tip. Uncut.

Y = Yearning (sex drive level)

When he’s not in a relationship, it's almost nonexistent. The man has a lot of shit on his plate!

When he's in a relationship, though, his sex drive slowly builds back up and when you’re alone together, he's almost always touching you.

Z = Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

He’s a tired man!!! He always makes sure you’re comfy and taken care of before he drops off, but once he does, he’s OUT.

2025 © all works belong to @sugarwarachan. do not repost, translate, or steal any of my works pls. reblogs and comments always appreciated <3 If you'd like to be added to my general taglist, let me know bbys!!

taglist: @cielito--lindo, @one-scarred-mofo, @uekarashi

#shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta #aizawa headcanons #aizawa smut #aizawa x reader #aizawa shōta #bnha smut #bnha x reader #mha smut #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa smut #shouta aizawa imagine #mha headcanons #aizawa x reader smut #sugarwarachanwrites

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cherrygirlfriend · 25 days ago

Note

Hiii darling, I was thinking about how reader loves to give nerd!rafe a boner in the most inappropriate times just to see how red and nervous he gets

three times when perv!reader got nerd!rafe hard at inappropriate moments. 18+

thank you for the request!! i hope you enjoy love <3 btw, i’m starting a taglist for rafe! feel free to lmk by comment or dm if you want to be added!!

⭑.ᐟ rafe and you were sitting in the school cafeteria, your lips pursed as you watched your crush eat, talking in between swallows about a new game he’d stayed up to play for the entire night. you nodded along, even though you really had no clue what he was talking about. it didn’t really matter; rafe always looked so cute when he started rambling about his interests.

“it’s such a scary and immersive experience, and the ghosts are different types! some of them are actually based on japanese folklore like oni, onryo, obake… you can also play it with your friends, and i think we should really do that. i have a ps5 in my dorm and you could play it on that while i play on my pc.” rafe mumbled excitedly before he turned to look at you, his brows furrowing when he realized that you’d been staring at him, “is… is there something on my face?”

“no. i just think you’re cute.” you said nonchalantly, placing your hand on his upper thigh, the boy’s eyes widening and a pink tint slowly starting to appear on his cheeks. rafe looked away to hide his flushing face, but as you squeezed your thigh, you couldn’t help but look down and notice him hardening. “we should totally play it together.

⭑.ᐟ after five months of being together, you decided to introduce rafe to your parents, the boy now sitting at your dinner table. he looked adorable, wearing a dark blue sweater vest over a button-down, dressed like he was going to church instead of your home.

“i’ve gotta say, rafe, you’re not like most guys my daughter brings home.” your father crossed his hands, his shoulders resting against the dining table. “dad!” you chided in embarrassment, feeling your face turn hot. “what, sweetheart? it’s true. most of the boys you’ve brought home to meet us have been the type of boys no man wants within five feet of their baby girl.”

“well, i’m not a baby anymore.” you mumble, your lips turned down into a pout while rafe lets out a small chuckle next to you. his hand moves to take yours under the table, intertwining your fingers, your pout turning into a small smile, “don’t worry, sir. i intend to take good care of your daughter.”

after dinner, rafe had insisted on doing the dishes, earning a delighted, clearly approving look from your mother. as your boyfriend stood at the sink, you couldn’t help but approach him from behind, your arms wrapping around his torso, turning your head so your cheek was against his back. “you know, my parents really like you.”

“mmhm, you think so?” he hummed, his muscular back warm against your cheek as he continued doing the dishes. “that’s good.”

“no it’s not.” you pouted, “it means we’ll have to break up.”

at your words, your boyfriend turned around in your arms and you looked up at him, “we have to break up because your parents like me?” rafe asked, his hands wet and soapy and a dumbfounded look on his face, “yeah. i can’t have a boyfriend that my parents like.” you grinned mischievously, pressing a small peck on his lips. “you’re impossible.”

“mmhm. how impossible am i?” you asked, pressing yourself into him, rafe letting out a low whine, “angel, we’re at your parents’ place.”

“i’m well aware.” you bit down on your lower lip and pressed yourself into him again, another whine leaving rafe’s lips as he closed his eyes, and you could feel him starting to get hard, his growing erection pressing against your leg. but when you did it for the third time, rafe let out a whimper and you knew you had him hooked, “wanna make my parents like you a little less and sneak into my old room?”

⭑.ᐟ if there was something that could bore you to death, it would be history class. you sat with your friends, simply admiring your boyfriend’s side profile, rafe choosing to sit a few rows ahead of you because he knew if he sat next to you, you’d never let him get anything done; you were never too good at paying attention in class, but it definitely helped to be dating the smartest guy who was meticulous about his notes and more than willing to share them with his girlfriend.

you leaned your head on your hand, a small smile on your face as you watched him, scribbling notes into his notebook, his glasses close to falling off his nose; you’d asked him once why he just didn’t use a laptop, and he’d told you writing via hand helped him remember better. it was so adorable.

you took out your phone, hiding it out of view from the professor, but as you glanced at rafe, you couldn’t help but want to tease him.

going into the hidden folder of your photo gallery, you scrolled through it a bit until you found a picture of yourself taken in the shower; or more like, a picture of your tits, your bare chest soaped up, the picture cropped so you could only see your pouty lips, your arm covering your nipples.

you shared it to the contact ‘my love ♡’ along with the message ‘bored :((’, and when the screen said that it was delivered, you watched the screen of rafe’s phone lit up. discreetly, he put down his pen and grabbed the phone.

delivered turned into read, and within seconds, his phone was face down on the desk, and rafe whipped his head to look at you, his cheeks red and eyes wide; you simply blew him a kiss.

when rafe turned back around to face the professor, though, you couldn’t help the grin that took over your face when you noticed him adjusting his pants at the crotch before going back to taking notes.

please send me requests and check out my masterlist! ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

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kxsagi · 2 months ago

Note

reader telling bllk boys (i request rin, sae, isagi, shidou and whoever else you want 😉) their waxer or whatever they re called 😭 cancelled and maybe reader and bf are going on vacation so reader turns to him and asks if he could do her brazilian wax 🙏🏼

“𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐱𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐟”

a/n: THIS REQUEST LMAOAAOAOAO

i’ve never been waxed before anywhere, but i am lowkey curious on what it’s like (i need a woman to do it for me, not even a boyfriend). and thinking about it… reader has a lot of trust if she’s just gonna ask them that straight-up i could never 😭

ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, shidou ryusei (definitely suggestive + saved the best for last trust)

itoshi rin

rin was scrolling through his phone when you randomly turned to him and went:

“hey… my waxer cancelled. can you do my brazilian wax?”

he didn’t even blink. just slowly turned his head toward you with the most judgmental side-eye you’ve ever seen.

“… what.”

“come onnn. it can’t be that hard,” you grinned, batting your lashes.

rin blinked once. twice. then stared at you like you had just asked him to perform open-heart surgery with a spoon.

“no.”

you pouted. “why not?”

“because i play soccer, not whatever the hell that is.”

but you were relentless. you hit him with the puppy eyes, clinging to his arm dramatically, whining about how your shared vacation was coming up and you were running out of time.

and like the whipped man he secretly was, he finally gave in with a defeated sigh.

“… fine. but if i mess it up, it’s your fault.”

so there he was, sitting on the bathroom floor with the most concentrated expression of his life, holding the wax strip like it was a ticking time bomb.

he hesitated for a good ten seconds before muttering, “this is a mistake,” under his breath.

and then he yanked.

you screamed, grabbing his wrist in reflex.

“rin, what the fuck –”

he stared down at you, horrified.

“… did i just rip off your entire skin?”

this man deadass thought he had maimed you for life.

he immediately started apologizing like he had committed war crimes, swearing he would never do this again.

but lowkey? he got weirdly good at it by the third strip and started acting cocky about it.

“you doubted me,” he muttered smugly, holding up the next strip like a trophy.

sir. this isn’t a game show.

itoshi sae

you brought it up so casually while the two of you were packing for your vacation.

“oh, by the way, my waxer cancelled. can you do my brazilian wax?”

sae didn’t even look up from his suitcase.

“yeah, sure.”

you blinked. “… wait, what?”

“what?” he shrugged, tossing a pair of swim trunks into his bag. “it’s just hair. i’ll rip it off or whatever.”

you stared at him, slightly disturbed by how unfazed he was.

“you’re… way too calm about this.”

“should i be scared?” he asked, raising a brow. “it’s just waxing. not rocket science.”

you squinted at him suspiciously.

“have you done this before?”

sae simply smirked and walked off, leaving you with more questions than answers.

when it was finally time, he showed up with zero hesitation.

he was so calm and composed, gently smoothing the wax strip down like he was making a PB&J sandwich.

“sae, you’re supposed to rip it fast –”

he yanked it off before you could even finish.

you winced, grabbing his wrist.

but sae, completely unfazed, inspected the strip like some kind of waxing connoisseur.

“huh. smooth,” he muttered with a nod of approval.

bro was judging his own craftsmanship like it was a professional art piece.

the worst part? he was good at it.

like… weirdly good.

at one point, he paused mid-wax to squint at the strip and mutter:

“hmm. could’ve angled it better. should’ve pulled with the hair growth.”

you just stared at him, blinking in disbelief.

“why do you sound like you’ve done this before?”

“don’t worry about it.”

isagi yoichi

you brought it up while the two of you were watching TV.

“baby boy… my waxer cancelled. can you do my brazilian wax?”

isagi immediately choked on his drink.

“huh?!?!” he coughed, eyes wide as he slapped his chest dramatically.

he stared at you like you had just asked him to sacrifice his firstborn.

“you – you want me to what?!”

you repeated your request so casually, like you were asking him to pass you the remote.

“come on, yoichi. it’s not a big deal.”

“NOT A BIG DEAL?!”

bro was panicking.

“baby girl, i love you, but i don’t think i’m… i’m qualified for that. i mean, what if i mess it up? what if i accidentally rip off… i don’t know, something important?”

you laughed, rolling your eyes. “you’re being dramatic.”

“no, you’re being insane,” he shot back, already sweating.

somehow, you convinced him with your persuasive pouting powers, and that’s how isagi ended up kneeling on the bathroom floor, holding the wax strip with shaky hands.

“baby… i’m scared,” he mumbled, voice trembling.

you squinted at him. “yoichi. you play in literal life-or-death matches.”

“yeah, but THIS? this is real danger.”

he counted down like he was about to defuse a bomb.

“three… two… one –”

he ripped it off, eyes squeezed shut.

you yelped, grabbing his wrist in reflex.

isagi, panicking, immediately blurted:

“I’M SORRY, I’M SORRY, I’M SORRY!”

his hands were shaking as he inspected the strip, his eyes wide in horror.

“i think i just ruined your entire vacation.”

poor boy was so stressed that he had to lie down afterward, claiming he needed to “recover emotionally.”

shidou ryusei

you were folding laundry when you casually turned to shidou and asked:

“hey babe, my waxer cancelled. can you do my brazilian wax?”

he didn’t even hesitate.

“hell yeah. where’s the wax?”

you blinked. “wait, seriously?”

“yeah, why not?” he grinned, cracking his knuckles. “i’m gonna rip that shit off with the wrath of god.”

you immediately started rethinking your life choices, but it was too late.

shidou was already holding the wax strip like a man on a mission.

“you ready, babe?” he smirked, cracking his neck like he was about to bench press 300 pounds.

“wait –”

he ripped the strip off with the force of a thousand suns.

you screamed, grabbing his arm.

and this mf had the audacity to grin and go:

“damn. you’re smooth as hell.”

you glared at him, tears in your eyes.

“ryusei, what the FUCK.”

but he was having the time of his life.

“you got any more strips? this is fun as hell.”

he genuinely offered to finish the whole wax, lowkey getting competitive with himself, trying to make each pull smoother and faster.

and when he was finally done, he just leaned back on the bathroom counter, arms crossed, and smirked smugly.

“not gonna lie, babe. i kinda missed my calling. think i’m gonna open a waxing salon.”

“i’m never asking you for anything ever again.”

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock headcanons #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #shidou ryusei x reader #ryusei shidou x reader #my brazilian wax bf

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trulyumai · 5 months ago

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jealousy within

—: pairing - caracalla / wife! reader

—: synopsis - all you wanted was to mingle, dance a little and talk to someone who wouldn’t yell or berate you. You hadn’t meant to anger your husband, or cause the death of an innocent man.

—: warnings: anger, violence, talk of death, gutting, grabbing.

You didn’t mean to upset him, not really.

Making an already emotional— somewhat unstable, emperor jealous wasn’t the smartest move. But it was the one you chose and decided to execute.

Of course, festivities began quite early. Caracalla himself had arranged the time, the place. Geta didn’t have the energy to spare to fight about such things, he only nodded along with a tight lipped smile, eyes glancing from his boasting brother, to you, always quiet, always watching.

And that’s where it really began, with you, watching. Seeing Caracalla mingle and dance with these strangers— claiming that they adore him, honor him. It was a farce, almost everyone was scared of the short haired ginger, more so than geta at times. He would flick his temper on and off with a quick switch— almost was an impressive feat until a vase would find its way smashed into your backside.

All you wanted was to join. Have a dance or talk of your own, it didn’t occur to you that Caracalla would be watching, sizing you up and down or threateningly pushing past other citizens to get a glimpse of you dancing with the happy stranger.

“It would be my honor, my lady.” The man’s hand, from who you signaled to earlier and approached, reached out for you, happily accepting your request in mingling, not even bothering to question such a request.

For who would deny their empress a dance?

“You look lovely today, my empress,” holding onto the softly robed man, you laughed. “Wanna know something?” Hearing a hum, you continued. “I think you’re the first to compliment me tonight.”

The man let out a low pitched gurgle, shock filled the spaces of his face before words overtook him. “That musnt be,”

Others danced around you, giggling and enjoying the carefree scene.

“It is!”

“Then they are all fools, my lady. For you look absolutely radiant tonight.”

You would have replied politely, if not for the voice of your husband cutting through the space.

“She does, doesn’t she?” It was almost painful— how quick your neck snapped back to look at the man.

“My liege!” The man seized back, arms now deflated at the sides while a sweat dotted across his brow. “It’s an honor to see you so—“

“An honor, Really?” Caracallla wasn’t known for his patience, it was becoming obvious of such a thing. A wide grin had spread across his face, a golden tooth gleamed against the candlelight and wild hair splayed around the golden robes he chose for tonight’s banquet.

“An honor that must be, to dine in my halls, eat by my side and court my woman!”

“N-No, your majesty I wouldn’t dare!”

Caracalla tssked, slow and mockingly. A hand guided its way to your back, until it slithered around the bend of your waist. “I wonder… are you as good at fighting as you are with running your mouth?”

“I—I am no fighter, my— my liege, but an apprentice for Sir Tomund.”

Loud and harsh, the shorter emperor called out. “Sir tomund!”

A skinny, scrawny man with more wrinkles than hair pushed his way through the gawking citizens.

Answering with only a raise to the head, Caracalla went on. “Would you be utterly ruined if, let’s say your, “esteemed,” apprentice found a new way of living?”

The elder man wanted no trouble, especially from the likes of a man such as Caracalla. Unpredictably was the game and only he could play it so well. There would be no winner but the ginger haired emperor.

“No, your grace. I would find another.”

Caracallas grip left you, both hands were now splayed out in front of him as if he was welcoming a deity into his arms.

“Just as I thought. Come, little apprentice, the guards will show you to your new quarters!”

Now desperate the man moved closer, his eyes wide with newfound fear, tears began to gather at the crevice of his lids.

He was utterly terrified.

“Please—no! My lady, say something, please!”

All eyes now soaked up your figure. Standing just beside your husband, wringing your hands in a nervous motion. “I—I,” with so many eyes upon you, anxiety creeped up your spine with a slow, cold drag.

Caracalla awaited your answer, almost wanting to open your mouth for you and claw out the words himself. Gods how he hated waiting, especially for such trivial things that were destined for death anyway.

“What she means to say,” butting in, the Emperor cackled to himself, thinking of a new way to torture the boundary stepping man.

“Is, you have two choices. You can fight in the ring—die an honorable death!” Cheers and hollers cried out, signaling the love of the coliseum.

“Or you can die here, tonight. Be gutted by me and mopped up for everyone to see.”

Bringing a hand up to his chest, you lightly pushed against it, garnering the attention of the babbling man— If only for a second.

“My love, he didn’t mean it. Please, let’s just retire for the night, leave this nonsense alone—

“Retire?! After he touched you, whispered those honey dew words into your ear like he had the right!” A fire was lit in the emperors eyes, one you had seen many times before.

Such a flame was only lit by the promises of blood. Caracalla had already made his decision; the stranger was to die.

It would be your fault.

“Please, please no, I never meant for this!” No matter how much the man wailed and cried out, the guards were already signaled for. There steps were heavy and calculated, only stopping mere inches from you and the emperor.

“Seize him.”

“No!” Grabbing the man, they pushed him to his knees, scraping the flesh against the concreted floors. They didn’t move or flinch when the stranger rebelled against them— shoving and pushing his way towards potential freedom.

But no matter how much the man fought, the guards gripped remained.

His fate remained.

Turning, Caracalla hummed to himself, he found the corner of the room, where dormant spears and swords lay for customary shows and fights that get displayed in the hall.

With a finger on one of the old handles, his hands tightened around the blade. It lifted easily against the strength, pulling out of the sheath with a gleaming glow.

Caracalla turned again, only his eyes were on the clean weapon, in awe of its violent nature and sharpness.

“I want you to do it,” by the gods, surely he wasn’t serious. “I need to see you do it.” Your husband urged, practically pushing the blade in your shaking hands.

“Please,” he begged. With glossy eyes, caracalla finally looked at you, truly looked at you.

Only you could differentiate madness and desperation. Notice the way his skin got all clammy, notice how his lips couldn’t stop quivering.

He was just as scared as you, but for all the wrong reasons.

“Do this for me. Do this for me and I’ll know you weren’t lying. I can believe you!” He urged, already planting his palms upon your shoulders, facing you towards the downturned citizen.

It seems you just couldn’t catch a breath. Your chest heaved up and down, you felt so hot— so cold at the same time. The white robe clung to your skin with a purpose, making everything itchy and tight while a static shot up your back.

“Do it. Do it, pretty wife.” His voice was low now, lips brushing against your ear tentatively.

And so you did.

You swung for a critical spot. Hoping—praying the man wouldn’t have to suffer another blow.

A giggle, mean and high sounded out just by you, almost too loudly because of it’s proximity.

“Again!”

Swinging, your hair came undone. The once clean and elegant braids were now loose and unturned. With more and more swings, blood began to mat at the tips, spatters ran down your neck and arms, covering the majority of skin with a rich and thick maroon.

You must have blacked out after the fifth or sixth swing. Because when you came to, the crowd was gone. The body wasn’t in shambles in front of you, nor were you even in the same room.

A blackened chamber lay in front of you. Your body was tucked into a king sized bed and a cotton robe had entranced your being.

Startled by your sudden movement, a hand shot up from the bed, placing itself upon your tummy.

“What is it?” A groggy, deep voiced caracalla mumbled. His other hand rubbed against his closed eye, smudging the sleep from his vision.

“W—what?”

“Go back to sleep, wife, im too tired for these games today.” Flipping over, your husbands back now took up your sight. However he was still close, the back of his legs grazed against yours in habitual confidence.

With a hunched form you grabbed at your hair, searching for the remains of blood to coat your hands and memory. It didn’t. There was no stain to be seen, no red chunks to pull out and weep about.

And that would have eased your mind, relaxed your eyes just enough to find an ounce of sleep, if not for your occasional robes laying haphazardly on the marbled floors, caked in a dark— coagulated heap of blood.

#x reader #fanfiction #caracalla x reader #emperor caracalla #caracalla x you #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor caracalla x you #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator x reader #angst #anger #jealousy

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prael · 4 months ago

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Day 11: Threats And Treats

Newjeans Danielle x male reader smut

words: 4,585 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

She is furious.

She's been in your class for barely a few months, but now she gives you an ultimatum. Either you change her grade, or she'll report you for sexual harassment.

It's a threat that you laugh off.

You have no reason to be afraid. Sure, Danielle's been throwing herself at you ever since you became her teacher. She wears her skirts too short, and her tops too low, and the way she asks you to tutor her privately after school can't be entirely innocent.

But it's not as if you've done anything wrong. You have, in fact, ignored Danielle's advances.

And there's no understating just how hard that has been. She has perched herself on your desk after class and given you a view of her lacy underwear. She has worn her gym shorts to meet you, and the tight material has hugged the cheeks of her firm little ass so snugly that it makes you want to drool. Painted her lips in that deep red that you know would look perfect wrapped around your cock. She brushed up against you in the hallways with a sly little grin and pressed her soft little tits into your side.

"Danielle, get the hell out of my office."

She turns up her nose without a word and she storms off.

She doesn't report you. Instead, she shows up at your office an hour later.

You have a lot of other papers to grade. You've had a long week. And Danielle's attitude is making your day even harder. You are in no mood to play games with this bratty girl. You don't look up when she enters. You barely glance at her.

"I'm not changing your grade," you say dismissively as you mark another awful essay with an F and then flip it over. You wonder how Danielle would react if you gave her a failing grade instead.

Danielle is undaunted. "You have to. You know that's not the grade I deserved."

"I scored you exactly like I did the others, and that is the score you got," you reply curtly, looking over another paper. "I can show you the rubric if you'd like, but it won't change your score. Now please, I'm very busy."

She steps closer. You don't bother to look up until Danielle places one slender finger underneath your chin, tilts up your face, and looks straight down at you. The bratty young woman has some nerve. Her touch sends a tingle down your spine, but you try to ignore it.

"I can make things difficult for you," she says. She's giving you this piercing gaze. Her hair is tied back in a neat ponytail and her lips are bright red again.

"Miss, if you touch me again or make any demands of me, I'll have to call someone to have you removed from my office." You look right back into those eyes, trying to keep a cool facade.

"And how would that look? If someone walked in and I am kneeled on your desk." She whispers as she raises her right knee onto it first and then lifts herself up. "Maybe I could have a tear going down my face." She runs her finger down the side of her cheek. "Or maybe I could have my legs spread. What would they think?"

"Get the fuck off my desk."

"Oh, sir. I do like it when you swear at me. It's kind of hot." She smirks and she shuffles further onto your desk. Her knees push away papers and files. She's such a dainty little thing—you've thought that so many times—that you could lift her right off and carry her away by her firm little ass. You wonder if that would turn her on. "I'm not getting down. Not unless you give me the grade I want."

"Danielle. Get off my desk right now." You warn again.

"Sir, we both know I'm not a B student, don't we?" She asks as she runs her hand up her slender thigh, bringing up her skirt with it and giving you a full view of her lacey pink underwear. Her bare thighs are smooth. Her panties look delicate like you could just rip through them with a single hard tug.

She knows exactly what she's doing, the little minx.

"Are you going to change my grade for me?"

She rests her skirt at her hips, leaving herself exposed right in your eyeline.

"Danielle, you're a student, this is unacceptable." There's a quiver in your voice, but it's still the truth. This is wrong, and she needs to be punished. You want to bend her over your knee, pull down her panties and give her a damn good spanking until her cheeks turn the same shade as her lips. Then you want to pull down your trousers, take out your cock and... No.

You wince at yourself. These are not thoughts you can afford to entertain. No matter how tempting Danielle makes them. No matter how good she'd feel (you know she would feel so good). No, you can't do that.

"Sir, listen to me. Either let me work hard for you and earn my A. Or I tell the principal. Tell her how you tried to fuck me," she purrs. Her eyes flash as she challenges you.

She leans forward, pushing more files off the desk as she does. Danielle's small breasts are nearly to your face, and you wonder how her soft flesh would feel pressed against your skin.

"Well?"

Her perfume wafts around you, filling your nostrils with her sweet, intoxicating smell.

"Please. Stop this," you whisper, trying to remain strong. But you know that you can't resist her much longer.

She reaches a hand up and brushes your cheek and her touch tingles against your skin. It wouldn't be so difficult to pull her in right now and give in to all your urges.

"No."

She leans in and whispers, "Then I'll make things even more difficult."

Danielle suddenly clambers off the desk, pulling papers and stationary with her, and down to her knees. Your chair rolls back a few inches, but now her head is right between your legs.

"This isn't going to work," you lie, your breath hitching. Your heart beats faster in your chest as you realize what is happening. You don't want it to work, you tell yourself. You can't want it to work. Not when she is a goddamn student.

"It will. Trust me," she whispers.

And then you feel the button of your jeans pop and hear the sound of the zipper. You can't look down, you just can't. Instead, you stare straight forward at the clock in front of you. Watching it tick slowly.

Your breathing becomes heavier as she fiddles with the waist of your boxers. She's going to get her grade. There's nothing you can do. She knows that now, and it makes her giggle. It is a girly, innocent little giggle, and that makes everything feel so much worse.

You can feel your cock swelling and hardening underneath her fingers, and you know that there's no way to stop her now. Her hand is wrapped around your shaft. And then, her hot breath on your skin, followed by the wet touch of her tongue.

Your eyes shut tight and your hands clench the armrests. Her tongue slides around you and then, her mouth closes over your head.

"Oh, fuck." You breathe. Your whole body is tingling as Danielle starts to suck your cock, her lips wrapped so tightly around you, her mouth so warm and welcoming. She's a little bit sloppy, a little bit too fast, but you can't help loving every moment. She has you in the palm of her hand now, quite literally, and she's working your cock with all the enthusiasm you could ever want from a bratty girl who's decided that you're going to give her exactly what she wants.

Your hands clench into fists, but as Danielle keeps bobbing up and down your cock, you just can't keep them still. You've resisted this girl for so long. You've been a good man, a decent man, despite her constant efforts to seduce you.

You can't be good now.

You let go of the armrest and reach down, and you place a firm hand on her head. She squeals with surprise and delight as you force her down onto your cock, making her take you deeper than she was prepared to go. And that noise only makes it feel even better, sending tingling pleasure all through your skin. You can feel the head of your cock hitting the back of her throat and the pressure as she gags, the vibrations as she moans, and you don't let up. You don't want to.

You hate yourself for it; you know how wrong it is; you know how it would play out if anyone found out; you know you should feel guilty as sin, and yet all you can feel is pleasure as Danielle bobs up and down on your cock.

You dare to indulge at the sight: a beautiful girl on her knees, sucking your cock, taking you deep into her mouth. Lips laden in red gloss stretched around your cock. Wide-eyed, with mascara-coated lashes. You can feel your balls tightening. The heat in your stomach rises as the pleasure becomes overwhelming. She sucks harder, she moans a little louder, and you know you're close.

Maybe it's just how wrong it is that makes it all feel so good. Or maybe it's just because it's her.

"Sir?" She says it between planting kisses on the tip of your cock, all while her dainty little hand jerks at the shaft, her fingers barely wrapping around you. She's been teasing you for so long now. Months and months. You can hardly stand it anymore. "I want to taste it."

Oh god, how you want to give it to her.

"Danielle..." you gasp.

"I've thought about it so often. When you were in the classroom talking theories and applications, all I wanted to do was get down on my knees and let you fuck my face."

"Danielle..." It's all you can say, because what can you say? This is your student, for god's sake.

"You know how many times you left me soaked after a lesson?" Her voice is low and husky, filled with desire, and she has this little twist in her wrist every time she strokes your cock, and she is driving you crazy. "I'd run home and slip my fingers into my underwear and make myself cum."

"Stop."

"Want it, don't you?" she taunts, and then as if it's some rehearsed move, she lets go of your cock. The absence of touch makes you ache with need. She's smiling so wide that her eyes smile too, and there's a gentle laugh because she knows exactly what she's doing. "Then you better change my grade."

She sits back on her haunches, still between your legs, looking up at you with expectation. She glances over her shoulder to your computer—a suggestion (or a demand) to change her grade right this very second, or else the fun stops.

You're a weak man, aren't you? She has your cock out and your heart pounding. She's giving you an ultimatum that you can't refuse, so you're standing up, looking down at her. Your pants have slipped to the ground. Danielle's face is level with your throbbing, pulsating cock.

"You win," you say with a sigh, as you reach over her to type on the computer, changing her grade. You have barely hit the enter key before she's up and wrapping her lips around you again, her moan vibrating your cock. Your reward for breaking the rules—for betraying every ounce of professional integrity.

Your reward feels so good. You grab a handful of her hair and force her head back down onto you. You watch yourself disappear between those red-stained lips again. You don't hold back. Standing over the cute girl, your cock in her mouth, you thrust your hips forward. Every time you hit the back of her throat you feel her gag. She's trying so hard to suppress the reflex. She wants you to believe that she's an experienced little slut, but her red cheeks and her wet eyes give away the truth.

"Good girl. Take it all."

Danielle looks up at you with those pretty doe eyes, so full of mischief. She has won, and you both know it. But you can't feel sorry now. Not with her on her knees, and her lips around you. This has to happen. So you're fucking her mouth, pinning her against your desk, while she grasps at her own chest. Clenching at her breasts through the material of her shirt and squeezing her thighs together in some attempt to satisfy the burning desire you know she feels.

Her jaw hangs open, leaving you nothing more than a hole to use. You can't keep this up anymore, the tension in your body can't take it any more, and neither can she. She's gasping, choking, spluttering, fighting for her breath as you use your grip on her hair to make her swallow every inch.

A smudge on her cheek, where a tear has spilt, and mascara is starting to stain.

"Look at me," you snap, jerking her by the hair as her focus drifts.

"Yes, sir," she replies obediently, locking her eyes right on yours while looking up. You bite your lip. It won't be long. The heat has been rising, and you know you're close.

She seems to know it too, and her eyes seem to say just how much she wants you to fill her. They show you how much she wants to take her victory. That's enough to send you right over the edge.

"Mmh!" she moans as you push your entire cock into her mouth. Her gagging and protesting does nothing to prevent the contractions from running through your cock. She feels like heaven as your cock jerks, and your eyes shut tight while pleasure overwhelms you. You can feel yourself pumping load after load into her waiting mouth. Thick rope after thick rope. You didn't know you could cum like this. You haven't cum like this since...ever.

She's working you as much as her tired state allows, her tongue shifting and coaxing out your fluids. Draining you of every last drop of cum.

You pull out and she gasps for air, chest heaving. Her face is marked, her lipstick smudged. What's left on her lips looks almost as if it's bruising, and you revel in it. She looks spent. Completely used. She's even pulled one hand up to cover her mouth. With this expression, she can't pull off a confident slut act, and this satisfies you. She's panting, like a dog after a hard run.

You both win. Mutual victory. Satisfaction and defeat.

You slide down into your chair, the adrenaline running its course. For now, everything is exactly the way it should be. As if none of this has ever happened. She's checking the screen and grinning. Her eyelids flutter, and she smiles back at you—almost bashful. Relief that she got what she came for.

Danielle is just happy, while you're thinking about all the ways you would like to pin her to your desk.

It's now well into spring, the snow has melted and the seasons are changing. You've been waiting for a while. Weeks have passed without her coming into your class or your office or talking to you about the latest assignment.

Not that you've minded. After your last encounter, you're prepared for a little bit of distance. You're still thinking about how things went. (You're always thinking about it.)

It's all going to change today. See, the latest grades were posted this morning, and you imagine that Danielle is not going to be pleased with hers. You picture her stopping by your office shortly, demanding another change, and of course, you're going to oblige. You're getting hard just at the thought.

Even the deepest, darkest, dirtiest corners of your mind hadn't prepared for this. You didn't know Danielle's schedule, of course, but it becomes abundantly clear she came right here from cheerleader practice. Athletic, tiny, and body-hugging—all words appropriate to describe the tiny little cheer uniform she is sporting. Her shorts short enough to almost reveal her full cheeks, and her top is way too thin. Thin enough, in fact, for you to tell that Danielle wasn't wearing a bra underneath, and you could see her pert, perky little nipples—making her excitement obvious.

"Sir, what the fuck is this?" Danielle holds out her phone and points at her grade: a B+. "You'd better do something about it."

She stands across from your desk, the image of youthful indifference, her hip cocked and her arms crossed. It is a stance filled with sass.

"I think you failed to take my instruction, my guidance, properly and for that, I had to dock marks."

"And if I show you now, how well I take instruction, will you increase it?" Her head tilts slightly and her teeth rake over her lower lip, and her tone is so impudent, and something about her attitude makes the blood surge through your veins. It's like every word from her insolent mouth is spurring you on to teach her a lesson. Make her moan and scream your name. Fill her up like you did before and erase that smirk from her pretty, pretty little face.

"There is a little lee-way." A teasing, mischievous giggle. "Maybe there's something we can agree on?" You suggest, your eyes tracking the curve of her toned legs. You can feel your pants getting uncomfortably tight at the thought of making Danielle squeal.

"Where do you want me, sir?"

You both know that the bartering is pointless. This deal isn't new, it's a continuation. "Bend over my desk. Like the good little girl that you are."

She strolls right around your desk, swaying her hips a little bit more than necessary, and you aren't sure if the minx is putting a show on for your sake or whether it's just her natural saunter. Either way, as soon as she puts her elbows down on your desk, you're sure that her display was planned to the smallest detail.

Slowly, she pushes her ass up and back, looking over her shoulder at you. "Can I have a word, please, sir? I'm having some trouble understanding," she calls over to you, the most suggestive smile creasing her face, and you try not to let the effect of her bratty charms bother you.

"Danielle, I gave you ample explanation of the assignment." You remind her. You can't keep the humour out of your voice.

"This is true, but...it's the sort of thing I really need drilled into me." Danielle presses the very tip of one blood-red fingernail to the desk and draws it in the shape of a circle.

"I know the syllabus can be a little... hard," you say as you stand behind her. You lean forward and place your hands on the desk. The cheap wood groans in protest. You can smell her intoxicating perfume. She's definitely been driving you crazy.

"So hard," she whispers as you lean over her body.

"Do you need some extra attention, Danielle?"

"I do, sir." She shifts her body, rolling her lower back and standing on the toes, pressing the curve of her pert little ass against your crotch. "Please, sir."

It has been weeks since you had her. How could you resist a come-on like that? How could anyone? Slowly you slide your hands down her sides and grab her hips. You feel a wave of perverted, forbidden lust as you grip her flesh; she feels so good. She shivers slightly at your touch, which gives you a wicked thrill.

Danielle is so small underneath you, so petite. Your hands move from her waist, stroking along the smooth material of the skirt. She draws in a short breath as you place your hand underneath the little article of clothing. She had removed her panties, as you suspect, she would. So there is nothing to prevent you from stroking the delicate, velvety soft skin of her lovely little pussy. It's already wet—which isn't surprising, but it's even hotter than you could have dreamed.

"Danielle, you don't have underwear," you murmur.

"I know sir, so I guess the next part should be easy." She starts to wiggle against your hand, drawing up that tiny skirt a little further, displaying herself to you.

She's perfectly prepared, so you draw your finger deeper between her soft, silken lips, finding her entrance, teasing her gently, drawing mewling, desperate sounds out of the slutty girl bent over your desk. You take a moment just to savour her gasps and little whimpers. To drink in her pleasure. There's something so damn satisfying, knowing the effect that you have on her. Then, you start to pull your fingers down, toward her beautiful little clit, stroking it, working her little bundle of nerves while her excited sounds just get more and more needy.

You continue to play with her pussy while enjoying the way that her tiny breasts squish against the desk, how her hands are clasping desperately for purchase and how she rolls her little hips against you, eagerly seeking out more. She's so consumed, so lost in the moment that it doesn't surprise you when the question finally falls out of her lips.

"Sir, am I going to get an A?"

That smug fucking little minx. She knows exactly what she's doing. "Yes, Danielle. An A." You promise.

"Give it to me, sir," she says with the most expectant little sigh, and the temptation proves too much for you. So you remove your hand and slip your fingers in your mouth. Tasting her. Savouring her. How far you'd gone. She groans in disappointment as you withdraw, but she stops protesting as she hears the sound of your belt. Is it anticipation that has goosebumps blooming on her skin?

When you've freed yourself from your pants, it is no struggle at all to position your cock between those sweet, soft folds and draw a moan from both of you.

"What are you waiting for?" she whines impatiently, forcing herself back against you, enticing you.

Your only response is to smile and continue to enjoy the sight of her pinned against your desk. Her bare, narrow lower back is fully exposed, leading to such a cute, full little ass that is just aching to be taken. You marvel at her every detail as the head of your cock presses right up against her tight hole, tempting you into her body, luring you in.

"Sir," she whispers, a husky, throaty invitation.

Before any more of her words can fill the air, you start to push inside her slowly. Every inch that passes makes her draw a sharper breath and keeps her gasping for air.

Every whimper that passes her lips spurs you on, while every quivering contraction her pussy performs tempts you to pound every single inch of yourself into her. Every deep noise draws your attention, everything she does is captivating.

By the time your every inch is settled within her, you reach down and grip her shoulder, drawing her body into yours. And she's so darn adorable that she struggles to form the words that tumble over her lips, leaving her face twisted in a mask of effort and need. Her breath stills every time you rock inside her.

You lean over her body, your chest against her back, wanting to sink deeper into her; feeling the beat of her heart and the heat of her flushed skin.

In this moment, as the pace increases, time slows. Danielle's lithe body bows against you with every thrust. Words aren't necessary, her moans are better. They tell you just how much you are pleasing her.

She earns every part of that bump in grade through the slick tightness of her cunt, the arching of her back, the fluttering, clenching massaging strokes, and the beautiful noises tumbling from her cherry lips.

"Oh, my god..." Danielle grunts. "Harder!"

And, of course, that pleasure has a price—your control is slipping, the need is steadily becoming more intense and it's harder to resist, especially when it feels so good, your hips keep rocking, every stroke producing incredible frissons of pure, white heat. And the heat grows. You keep picking up speed, keeping her moans coming.

It isn't long before that gorgeous girl, taut and eager, clenches against your unyielding shaft, as if afraid it would disappear within her. Her breath catches as she reaches the pinnacle, before coming apart with a shrieked vowel. She bites her lower lip and digs her nails into the desk. She rides it out until every last drop of pleasure drains from her body.

While watching Danielle lose herself, your resolve disintegrates. You pick up the tempo, pounding into the pliable, supple and downright fuckable cheerleader. Her sharp, ragged gasps dissolve into a plaintive moan. Every stroke drives you closer and closer to the end.

You lean forward and whisper in Danielle's ear, "I'm gonna cum."

She nods her head quickly and urges you on, "Do it, sir."

So, you wrap one arm around her body and press your chest flush against her back, feeling the movements of her every muscle in time with yours. You can barely believe just how incredible this girl is.

"Fill me, sir," she begs as she reaches for your face. Danielle takes you by surprise as she turns to face you and places a kiss on your lips. It's light and quick, but it makes you spill your load inside her all the same. That slight, innocent contact seals the deal and your whole world erupts.

You're drowning. Drowning in pleasure and satisfaction, the throes of ecstasy wash over you as you continue to buck against your perfect little student. Every thrust leaves you breathing heavier than the last, and it isn't long before your forehead is pressed against her naked back as you pump another wave of sticky, liquid heat deep into Danielle's trembling body.

It is impossible to measure how long you two remain there, the line between where she begins and you end blurred. When you eventually start to untangle yourselves, she slinks away and returns your shared gaze with a satisfied grin.

You sit back and catch your breath, while she starts gathering herself together.

Your eyes trace her figure, the shape of her breasts, the slope of her neck. Danielle notices, because her lips curl up just a little more, and she shoots you the cutest little wink. "I know what you did, sir."

"And what was that?" you ask, playing along. Danielle picks up her jacket from the floor and then slips it on. You watch every movement she makes, your heart thumping in your chest as if trying to escape your ribcage.

She cocks her head. "Well, I think it was pretty clever, actually. But I've caught onto your game, sir. That assignment was perfect, we both know it." Danielle leans in, placing her hand on your chest. "Which means that this was never about grades. In future, you can just ask me, sir." She places a quick kiss on your lips.

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