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shiyorin · 28 days ago

Text

#Modern au (with MILF reader)

#Magnus x MILF reader

#Happy meal for my dearest @roroco316

The bustling halls of the Elementary School echoed with the usual cacophony of children's laughter and teachers' admonitions. Amidst this chaos, your striking figure strode through the corridors, your midnight tresses swaying with each determined step. You, a young single mother whose beauty belied the steel in your spine, had been summoned to the school yet again to deal with your daughter's latest misadventure.

As you approached the classroom, muffled sounds of struggle reached your ears. Your brow furrowed, a mixture of exasperation and concern etched across your features. With a deep breath, you pushed open the door, unprepared for the sight that greeted you.

There, in the center of the room, stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with an eye patch, struggling to contain a squirming bundle of energy. It took you a moment to realize that the writhing mass was, in fact, your own daughter. The little girl's pigtails bounced wildly as she thrashed in the man's arms, her face scrunched up in a determined pout.

The man, his one good eye twitching with barely contained frustration, held the child at arm's length as if she were a ticking bomb. His usually impeccable appearance, tailored tweed jacket and neatly pressed slacks, now disheveled from the struggle. A few errant strands of his fiery red hair had escaped the confines of his neat ponytail, adding to his harried look.

"What?" you exclaimed, your voice a mixture of surprise and resignation.

Little girl's head whipped around at the sound of your voice. "I don't want to go to tutoring class!" she wailed, redoubling her efforts to escape.

The man holding her let out a grunt of frustration. "Can you stop!" he demanded, his deep voice tinged with exasperation.

Your eyes narrowed as you took in the scene before you. The man holding your daughter was undeniably handsome, despite the eye patch that covered his left eye. His remaining eye was a startling shade of violet, currently filled with a mixture of annoyance and something else you couldn't quite place.

"Magnus?" you asked, recognition dawning. "What are you doing here?"

The man – Magnus – looked up, his eye widening slightly as he met your gaze. A faint flush crept up his neck "Miss," he breathed, momentarily forgetting the squirming child in his arms.

Your daughter took advantage of his distraction, nearly wriggling free before Magnus tightened his grip once more. "Nice to see you again," he managed, his voice strained as he struggled to maintain his hold on the little girl.

You stepped forward, your arms crossed over your chest. "You still haven't answered my question. What's a Harvard professor doing in an elementary school classroom?"

Magnus cleared his throat, clearly flustered. "I, uh, I've been volunteering here. Tutoring some of the students who need extra help."

You raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

Your daughter, sensing an opportunity, renewed her struggles. "I don't need help!" she protested. "I don't want to go to tutoring!"

Magnus sighed, finally setting the girl down but keeping a firm hand on her shoulder to prevent her from bolting. "Young lady," he said, his voice softening, "your test scores suggest otherwise. I was just explaining to your mother that I think some extra tutoring sessions could be very beneficial."

Your eyes narrowed. "And you took it upon yourself to make this decision?"

Magnus had the grace to look sheepish. "I... I thought it would be best to discuss it with you first, of course. I just wanted to present the option."

She stomped her foot, her lower lip jutting out in a fierce pout. "I don't want a nerd for a tutor!" she declared. "And I definitely don't want one for a dad!"

Magnus's face flushed a deep crimson, his eye darting between little girl and you. You felt a twinge of sympathy for the man, despite your irritation at his presumption.

"Young lady," you said, your voice stern. "That's enough. Apologize to Professor Magnus right now."

The little girl crossed her arms, stubbornly refusing to meet anyone's gaze. "Sorry," she muttered, clearly not meaning it.

You sighed "I'm sorry about this, Magnus. She can be... a handful."

Magnus's expression softened as he looked at you, a warmth in his eye that you failed to notice. "It's alright," he said. "She's spirited. That's not a bad thing."

You snorted. "You say that now. Try dealing with her every day."

A small smile tugged at Magnus's lips. "I wouldn't mind," he said softly, then quickly added, "I mean, as her tutor. If you decide that's what you want."

You studied him for a moment, taking in his earnest expression and the way he fidgeted slightly under your gaze. There was something about him that intrigued you, though you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

"Let me think about it," you said finally. "I appreciate the offer, but I need to consider what's best for my daughter."

Magnus nodded, trying to hide his disappointment. "Of course. Take all the time you need."

As you turned to leave, ushering a still-grumbling daughter out of the classroom, you failed to notice the way Magnus's gaze lingered on your retreating form. His eye traced the curve of your back, the sway of your hips, and he let out a soft sigh of longing.

*****

The penthouse door swings open, revealing an opulent interior that makes your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Magnus stands there, a nervous smile playing on his lips as he ushers you inside. Your little girl, still pouting from being forced to attend tutoring, trudges in reluctantly.

"Welcome," Magnus says, his voice carrying a hint of excitement he can't quite suppress. "I hope you'll find the space conducive to learning."

You taking in the sleek modern furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. "Thanks you for helping, your home is beautiful."

Magnus flushes, fumbling with his words. "Oh, well, you know... family money and some wise investments." He clears his throat, gesturing towards a door. "The library's through there. I've set up everything we'll need."

As you enter the library, your little girl's eyes widen at the sight of three plush stuffed animals arranged on the desk - Chikawa, Hachiware, and Usagi. "For me?" she squeals, momentarily forgetting her grudge against tutoring.

Magnus nods, a genuine smile breaking through his nervousness. "I thought they might make our sessions more enjoyable."

Your girl hugs the stuffed Usagi tightly. "I like you!" she declares, before spotting the stack of practice test books beside the animals. Her face falls. "I hate you," she grumbles.

You sigh. "Dear. Remember why we're here."

For the next hour, Magnus attempts to guide your reluctant child through basic math concepts. His expertise in advanced theoretical physics does little to help him explain simple addition to a squirming seven-year-old more interested in making her stuffed animals dance than learning.

You observe from a nearby armchair, alternating between amusement at Magnus's struggles and frustration at your daughter's lack of focus. You can't help but notice the furtive glances Magnus keeps throwing your way, his good eye darting to your face before quickly looking away whenever you catch him.

As the tutoring session drags on, it becomes clear that for all his intelligence, Magnus is a terrible teacher, at least when it comes to children. His explanations are too complex, his patience wearing thin as your little girl's attention span dwindles to nothing.

"Let's take a break," you finally suggest, seeing both Magnus and your daughter on the verge of a meltdown. "Sweetie, why don't you stay here and play with your new friends for a bit? Mommy needs to talk to Professor Magnus."

Your girl nods eagerly, already engrossed in her phone game with Usagi propped up beside her. You lead Magnus out to the living room, closing the library door behind you.

"Well," you say, leaning against the back of a sleek leather sofa, "that was... something."

Magnus runs a hand through his hair, disheveling the neat ponytail. "I'm sorry," he begins, "I thought I was prepared, but-"

"But teaching quantum physics to grad students doesn't exactly translate to basic math for second graders?" you finish for him, a wry smile tugging at your lips.

He nods, shoulders slumping in defeat. "I just wanted to help. Your daughter has so much potential, if only-"

"If only she cared about anything other than becoming a giant yellow bunny?" You sigh. "Yeah, welcome to my world."

As you talk, Magnus can't help but notice what you're wearing - a form-fitting business dress that hugs every curve of your lithe body. The hemline rides up slightly as you lean back, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of toned thigh. He swallows hard, trying to force his gaze back to your face.

You, oblivious to the effect you're having on him, continue talking about your daughter's academic struggles. But Magnus finds himself lost in the way your lips move, the slight furrow of concentration between your brows, the way a stray lock of midnight hair falls across your cheek.

His mind wanders, imagining what it would be like to close the distance between you, to press you against that leather sofa and claim those full lips with his own. His hands itch to explore the curves so tantalizingly displayed by that dress, to peel away the fabric and reveal the smooth skin beneath.

Magnus shifts uncomfortably, acutely aware of the growing tightness in his trousers. He silently thanks whatever deity might be listening that his loose-fitting slacks hide his body's reaction to your proximity.

As you gesticulate, emphasizing a point about your daughter's latest report card, Magnus finds his gaze drawn to the swell of your breasts, the neckline of your dress offering a teasing glimpse of cleavage. He imagines burying his face there, inhaling the intoxicating scent of your perfume mixed with the natural musk of your skin.

His mind conjures vivid fantasies - pushing that dress up around your waist, his hands sliding along silky thighs to discover what lay beneath. Would you wear lace? Something practical? Nothing at all? The possibilities make his mouth go dry.

In his mind's eye, he sees himself lifting you onto the kitchen island, scattering papers and books to the floor as he claims you right there. He imagines the taste of your skin, the sound of your moans as he worships every inch of your body with lips and tongue and teeth.

The fantasy grows more intense - your legs wrapped around his waist, your nails raking down his back as he thrusts into you. The imagined sensation is so vivid he has to stifle a groan, shifting again in a futile attempt to ease the ache in his groin.

"Magnus? Are you even listening to me?"

Your voice cuts through the fog of lust, snapping Magnus back to reality. He blinks, realizing he's been staring at you like a lovesick puppy for who knows how long.

"I'm sorry," he stammers, face flushing crimson. "I was just... thinking about potential teaching strategies."

You stood up from the plush armchair, stretching your lithe body as you made your way towards the library door. Your daughter had been quiet for a while now, and you wanted to check on her progress. As your hand reached for the doorknob, a warm presence materialized behind you, sending a shiver down your spine.

[Tyranid eat this part. Read more in poipiku]

#shiyorin's writer #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #reader insert #modern au #poipiku

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