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notjustjavierpena · 22 days ago

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Applied Physics

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Long awaited smutty piece with a planned sequel. I hope you enjoy, ya filthy animal 💅🎀💖

Summary: It’s the 60s, you’re three weeks behind on a deadline, and your professor, Doctor Reed Richards, makes you face the consequences.

Pairing: Reed Richards x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: College student/teacher relationship, science talk, Reed has powers, dub con, spanking, dom/sub dynamics, implied dacryphilia, dirty talking, sub drop, aftercare, stern Reed 🥵

Word count: 5.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62948440/chapters/161199763

Applied Physics

Dr. Reed N. Richards always wears a tweed jacket with elbow patches that show off his broad shoulders and give him an irresistible swagger. He teaches physics at your college part-time - when he is not out saving the world - and he is equally terrifying as he is warm, a combination of traits that you have learned can actually coexist but only after meeting him.

You have been wanting him since he walked into the classroom that morning many months ago, carrying a black leather binder seemingly filled with little to nothing since everything appears to be stored in his brain.

He has standards, you find, and traditional ways of doing things that somehow emphasize his love for the delicacy of science. For instance, he only grades papers with a fountain pen and therefore expects every assignment to be handwritten instead of done on a typewriter which is tedious and difficult for those who don’t possess a steady hand. The scary part of him comes out when he says he simply won’t grade the papers that aren’t turned in as he wants them to be. The warm part shows itself when he later makes a self-deprecating joke about knocking over whiskey during his grading.

The idea of the paper smelling like his cologne or even, if you are lucky, has a stain of his favorite liquor, makes you hand in each assignment whilst the ink is still drying on the paper. Perhaps you will be the first one to receive notes and feedback from him if you turn in your work before its deadline.

You imagine him hunched over a desk, pen barely able to fit in his rough hand. He wears something casual, maybe even has taken off that jacket, scratching his beard and sipping his drink whilst smiling to himself as he reads words that come from your mind. Your mind makes him smile to himself, makes him single you out from the rest of your class because you are special and he knows this. It’s the image you imagine the first time you come whilst thinking about him, shower head between your thighs and legs against the tiled wall in the shared bathroom at the boarding house you reside in.

When you do finally get your first essay back from him, you read all the comments in the margins during your lunch. You lick a drop of juice from an apple away from your lower lip as your eyes skim over a scribbled good or well done, trying to find an excuse to read more into the way he looks at you when you talk during class. You made him laugh once, that must mean something, right? He clearly has your sense of humor, the same ways of applying theory and reasoning.

You know that it is hardly rational what you are doing, projecting all these things onto him when, in reality, you only know of him what you have seen during his lectures and office hours. Yet you have found yourself noticing the way he smiles faintly when you correct one of your fellow students during group work, and it has spurred you on to become even more insufferable to your classmates only to get his attention. His approval too, if you are lucky.

Yet despite all this, here you are with an assignment running three weeks late, your procrastination having reached its limits and your excuses to your professor wearing thin. It’s a challenging state to be in when you’re so used to ranking your popularity with Dr. Richards higher than everyone else on this course. Sure, his attention is nice when it is rooted in praise but you don’t know if the kind that will follow this lecture, the deadline you’d agreed upon for your paper being yesterday, is the kind that will satisfy something in you like the small smiles have.

You keep bouncing your leg beneath your desk as you wait for Dr. Richards to enter the lecture hall with that cool aura about him and let the fast-paced lecture begin. If anyone sees you, they will recognize it as an itching to suck up to him once more but in reality, it is the first time you’ve been in the room with a nervous tic.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” he greets as he finally arrives and you find yourself jolting with nerves at the fact that he is finally here and inevitable doom is just around the corner. It doesn’t make it better that his brown eyes sweep over the crowd in a hurry until he spots you, his gaze full of concentration until he gains eye contact with you for less than a second. You sit up straighter at the way he measures you and the subconscious movement of your leg stills completely. Frustratingly, the man keeps talking as if nothing happened.

After several attempts to regain your composure, you realize that you have completely missed his introduction to today’s lecture and while trying to ignore the thrill that is simmering beneath your anxiety, you scramble to start taking notes. It’s not to show him that you can go back to being his favorite student but rather a necessity to keep yourself from being three weeks further behind.

You power through the lecture even with your fuzzy mind, scribbling things down and making sure to appreciate the privilege it is to be taught by one of the greatest minds to ever live. This is even if he, multiple times, falls into the usual pattern of diving headfirst into multi-layered explanations of different phenomena and concepts, droning on as if none of you and the rest of your classmates exist to him anymore.

You pretend to keep up when he does this but even you must admit that he loses you. However, you know for a fact that it is not out of disinterest that you stop listening but rather your mind focusing on something else when his words become too difficult to follow. Instead, you end up mapping out the length of his gorgeous neck, the beauty spot where his collar ends. It is enough to leave your mouth dry, but not enough to drag your mind off the scolding you’ll get soon.

When the lecture comes to an end, you have psyched yourself enough to stupidly get up and try to follow the rest of the students out. They trickle out hurriedly though and you find yourself at the back of the school of people heading for the door.

“Hold it right there,” Reed’s voice travels through the room and hits you right in the back, making you falter in your step. Your last name rolls off his tongue with the same kind of confidence and composure that you’d tried to conjure up just an hour ago.

“Sir, I was just—“ you rest your hand on the doorknob to signal that you are leaving but you know already that you have lost the fight to exit the room.

You hear it before you see it; the faint and strange rustling of fabric as something wooshes closer. Suddenly, your teacher’s stretched-out arm moves past you like you have seen it do on television and then his hand attached to said arm splays flat on the door. He closes it with a soft click while you hold your breath.

Slowly, it retracts back to normal and you follow it with your eyes by glancing over your shoulder. Time stands still for a moment at the sight because while Reed Richards has stretched his body multiple times in the past, without much thought behind it and much to his students' shock, he never puts anyone in the position to experience it firsthand.

“Sir, I—“

“Come here,” he says quietly.

You grab the strap of your bag tightly and make your way to the desk where he sits. You decide to beat him to his reprimand, talking even if your voice shakes at his disapproving stare, “I’m sorry I missed this week’s deadline.”

“This week? Try the last three,” he calmly corrects you, “You have done your research on force, impact, and energy transfer in non-elastic collisions, have you not?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And you’ve still not turned anything in? Why?”

“I've been overwhelmed with coursework and–” You trail off when he raises a brow. He is still sitting down but even so, you feel like you are shrinking underneath his authority. You find it hard to believe that anything out your mouth right now will be taken seriously when you have let him down three times already but you try to reassure him anyway, “It won’t happen again, I promise,”

“No, it won’t,” he agrees as he pushes himself to stand. He drags the chair away from the table as if he thinks it is in his way, “You’re brighter than most, so I don’t believe I need to remind you what happens if you keep slacking.”

“No, sir, I’m aware.”

“I mean, we’ve already moved way past force dynamics and energy exchange on this year’s curriculum, so you’re wasting my time,” he goes on with an annoyed sigh that tells you he has better things to do, “What am I supposed to do with you?”

“I don’t know, sir,” you stare at the flooring.

“Come closer,” he orders calmly. He lets his gaze flick down to your hand clutching your bag of books, “Take out your book on core concepts.”

You follow his eyes and pull out the right book before gently letting the strap of your bag slide off your shoulder until the bag hits the floor with a soft thud. Something tells you that you’re not leaving anytime soon.

“Place it on the desk and find the pages on Newton’s Laws,” he continues and your heart slams against your ribs at the thought of an impromptu pop quiz instead of a handed-in paper. Yes, you know these pages but in the presence of him, you’re not so sure.

Behind you, Reed has shrugged off his jacket while you were flipping through the book. He folds it neatly and hangs it over the back of the chair he was displeased with a moment ago, making sure not to crease the fabric. Then he reaches for the sleeves of the white shirt that he is wearing and rolls them up to his elbows, revealing the slightly visible veins of his forearms. Your head swims and you subtly press your thighs together, images of what you’d like him to do to you flooding your mind.

“Bend over,” he says suddenly, murmuring it almost as if he knows he shouldn’t have said it.

Your eyes widen and you glance in the door’s direction. There are so many people on the outside of this room right now but the chances of someone walking in are slim since lectures are rarely started at this hour of the afternoon, “I don’t understand?”

“You don’t have to understand anything. I want you to put your palms on either side of the book and bend over,” he elaborates and clearly notices your hesitation, the direction of your eyes. His arm stretches out in front of you again, snaking its way past the rows of chairs until it reaches the door once more. He locks it, the soft click of it mixing with your unsteady breathing, and then he pulls down the curtain in the window at the top.

When the arm smoothly retracts once more, you naturally think it will stop at his side but instead, you feel his palm on the back of your neck. His other hand joins to lay on the small of your back and then he pushes down gently to maneuver you into the position that he wants.

You exhale shakily as you place your hands on the desk, feeling the smooth wood underneath your fingertips as a way to ground yourself in a moment so electric. Your body is way ahead of you, reacting to the anticipation of his next move by making a dull ache settle right between your legs. Your clit throbs, your walls flutter.

“Your paper was supposed to use Newton’s Laws as a foundation, let me make sure you know them properly,” Reed says simply while removing his hand from your lower back. His other hand, the one on the back of your neck, slips down your spine to take the previous one’s spot, leaving fire in its wake, “Recite them.”

You swallow thickly, “Newton’s First Law states that a body at rest—”

Smack.

A loud gasp leaves you at the surprise of Reed’s free hand coming down on your backside, heat spreading out underneath the fabric of your skirt where it has struck you. Your head whips around to stare at him in disbelief at what he has just done, your mouth hanging open in shock.

“Eyes on the book,” he commands sternly, curling his fingers slightly into the hem of your shirt, “Go on. Newton’s First Law.”

You count three whole breaths before you will yourself to face forward again, looking down at the text in front of you and trying to regain your ability to read. You swallow the lump in your throat, the letters jumbled on the page, “Uhh…”

“Concentrate,” he adds and gives you another blow, one that makes you jolt forward on the desk and send the book almost over the edge. You frantically reach for it, noticing the way your heart leaps into your throat when you consider what would have happened if it had fallen off.

You drag the book back down and try to act cool but your voice tells on you as you start to read out loud, “A-a body at rest stays at rest, and a body in motion stays in motion—”

He spanks you again and elicits another gasp but you seem to have expected it since you don’t go flying forward. This is even if his palm leaves behind a much more painful sting this time and makes your toes curl in your shoes.

“Until…” He sounds impatient.

You act immediately like a dog who is learning about action and consequences, “Until acted upon by an external force.”

“Good girl,” he praises and you don’t know why the softness of his voice makes you tear up. His broad palm traces over the spot that is warming up already and you make a show out of sighing with content.

However, the soothing touch is short-lived and you start struggling just slightly as Reed’s hand descends until he can grab the hem of your pencil skirt and roughly tug it up. He settles it just above the plumpness of your ass, swatting you to make you focus and stop squirming.

“I’m not going to fuck you so stop moving around,” he scolds and surprises you with yet another smack. It feels different now that each slap is skin-on-skin contact, sounds different too as the noise echoes through the empty lecture hall. You whine in slight disappointment, even if you have inappropriately imagined his cock in you during circumstances so different so many times.

“Second Law,” he murmurs, occupied briefly by the bruise forming on your cheek and scraping his nails across it.

“W-what?” You let out a whimper, your thighs pressing together to soothe your pulsing clit. In theory, you know what he has said but it just isn’t registering since your mind is occupied by you knowing exactly what you will be doing back home if he won’t touch you. In fact, a thrill goes through you at the thought of another blow to recall in your bed with your hand stuffed into your underwear.

“Newton’s Second Law,” he repeats with a smaller swat following. You suck in a breath to calm yourself.

“Newton’s Second Law states that the net force on an object is equal to its mass times its acceleration,” you say somewhat confidently, a sense of calm settling over you as you finally feel like you are getting a handle on the situation.

“Apply it to the situation you’re in right now,” he tests you. You feel your face grow hot and hesitation seizes you for a second. It takes a moment too long for him and a much sharper smack lands right on the jiggliest part of your ass, the sharpness of the pain making you moan for the first time and the noise of the blow bouncing off the walls. You almost even swear in your professor’s presence, and you would have if it weren’t for the way tears in your eyes take off the edge.

“You’ll get one more if you don’t open your mouth soon,” he adds. You’re just about to speak, about to follow orders, when he takes a step closer and presses his cock into your hip. You freeze at the size of him, a sound that can only be described as pathetic leaving you. Reed huffs out a chuckle and smacks you once more albeit slightly less maliciously.

“Y–you’re applying a force to me. Your hand is the mass and the acceleration is essentially the swing of your arm. The shorter the time and the greater the velocity of the impact, the bigger the force I feel,” you try not to hiccup through the whole explanation but the words take a longer time to come to you and your backside is hypersensitive, warm, and sore. Your pulse rings in your ears too, and you swear you can almost taste the adrenaline in your mouth from how it is coursing through your body. It might just be salt from your tears though which you realize will simply give you an excuse as to why you stayed behind after class. If you really try, you might be able to conjure up an act of a student who got some terrible feedback.

“Still with me?” You hear him ask, feel him soothe your burning flesh. You wonder if his palm is imprinted on your cheek.

“Yes, sir,” you mumble with a sniffle, your palms sticking to the desk from how clammy they have become.

“Speak up,” he corrects you and his palm leaves you long enough for you to start anticipating another strike. No hands on your body makes it harder to abstain from feeling his hard cock resting against your hip, the heaviness of it making you even wetter and oh God, aching to be filled.

“Yes, sir,” you enunciate without coming off as bratty. The next strike doesn’t come and relief washes over you, allowing you to relish in the cool air brushing your tingling and bruised skin.

“Last but not least. Newton’s Third Law?”

“F-for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction,” you say and rest your forehead on the book that has absorbed a few teardrops, He doesn't give you praise or a soothing touch. It bewilders you, makes you question if your scatterbrained state has accidentally made you say something that is wrong. You go quiet except for your rapid breathing as you go over your answer in your head but nothing comes to mi–

The sudden smack instantly makes you realize where you went wrong, landing across the exact spot that’s already stinging and causing you to hiss and whine through your teeth. Quickly, you scramble to relate Newton to what Reed is doing to you, “If… if you strike me, my body exerts a force back on your hand.”

“Mhm, good,” he hums while your head swims, “And I bet you’re feeling that force right now.”

“It hurts,” you whimper feebly and turn your head to the side. Yes, it’s the truth but your body can’t tell if it’s supposed to register this as pain or pleasure, the sensations overlapping intensely.

“That’s part of the lesson,” Reed’s hand returns in a gentle touch, his large palm settling carefully over the same spot he has just mercilessly spanked, “Why does it hurt?”

You wish he’d move his hand down between your legs and make you come when he realizes how soaked-through your panties are, “B-because when you spank me your hand transfers kinetic energy into my skin. The force and the friction cause heat to build. The tissues and blood vessels react, and it—”

“Gives you that glow. Precisely,” he finishes your sentence and curls his hand around your hip firmly. He sounds enthralled by his work, “And I respond with arousal, meaning it makes me so goddamn hard. Now, hold still. These last three are for the three missed deadlines.”

You know he means business when his finger slips underneath the waistband of your panties. He pulls them down just enough to settle them underneath the globes of your ass without exposing your needy cunt, the elastic of them digging slightly into sore skin. His other hand lifts and you brace yourself even if you know that any human can suffer through even uncontrollable pain if they know there’s an end to it.

The first of three strikes lands right on the curve of your backside, harder than any of the several ones before it and making your entire body seize up. He isn’t playing around this time, your skin immediately blooming with newfound heat and fiery pain. It makes you moan out loud and squeeze your eyes shut until fireworks go off behind your eyelids.

“Count,” he says calmly.

“O-one,” you manage to say in a voice that makes it sound like an apology instead.

The second one makes it feel like there’s a clap of thunder going through your bones. You jolt forward on the desk enough to finally send the damn book flying off the edge to the floor. Reed tightens his grip on your hip to steady you, dragging you back to him again as if to remind you that despite everything he’s got you.

“Two,” you say shakily, “I’m sorry, Professor Richards.”

He rubs the spot to soothe your burning flesh and by now, a part of you wants to crawl into his lap and be held. He coos softly at you and gently squeezes the roundness of your ass, making you bite down on your bottom lip and exhale a needy whine through your nose.

“No need to bring me apologies,” he tells you, “We’ll see if you’ve learned your lesson. Last one.”

He lets you wait for the final smack, but when his hand lands on your skin, a sharp cry rips from your throat. Tears start flowing freely from your eyes now - even if you’re still not fully crying as emotions have not caught up with you yet - but it’s not solely from the pain, but also from the swirl of adrenaline and arousal that tightens below your belly button. You wonder if you should reach up to wipe your eyes but you can’t make yourself let go of the desk underneath you, clutching it in an iron grip because of how wobbly your legs are.

“Three,” you hiccup as Reed loosens his grip on you. You feel the ache of your behind with every heartbeat and want to sob now that it is over. You’re hyper-aware of what is happening in your body which is the adrenaline starting to crash, and the emotions, coming in like a wave, are just about to overwhelm you when—

“Sit up on the desk for me,” Reed says gently.

“But the book,” you glance toward the textbook that you sent flying not long ago. It is a silly thing to cling onto but there’s an emotional wavering in your voice as you say it which Reed seems to catch onto.

“Leave it,” he murmurs, an order but not like the previous ones, “Sit. I need to make sure you’re alright.”

The task seems impossible. You barely manage to push yourself fully upright, your shaking legs nearly not able to hold you up, and when you turn around to lift yourself onto the desk, you feel the edge dig into your sore behind in a way that forces a hiss out of you. A tear that you have no control over rolls slowly down your cheek.

“Easy,” Reed is beside you, catching onto your motive when you get ready to jump up onto the surface in a hurry due to his earlier lack of patience. He has previously had a hovering hand nearby but now, he grabs a hold of you to still you, “Do it carefully.”

When you’re finally perched on the desk, you’re not sure if the calming cool sensation of the wood beneath your thighs outweighs the pressure against your smarting skin. What you are sure of though is the storm of emotions inside your chest, a raging one made up of an overwhelming mix of new pain, embarrassment, and vulnerability, all of which makes your heart feel too big for your rib cage.

“I’m okay,” you lie but you hear yourself and know it isn’t very convincing. He gives you a raised eyebrow.

“Seems like you’re experiencing what is known as a drop. Come on, deep breaths,” he guides you gently when he spots the way your bottom lip wobbles, “If you have to cry, let it out. No one’s going to see you.”

From his words, you realize that your breathing has become unsteady and hitched in very little time. Your shoulders shake and your chest has a ball of unleashed feelings in it that nearly makes you feel sick. It unravels when the tears that you hoped would subside resurface at the permission to let them flow. You feel them brimming at the corners of your eyes.

“I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing,” you say shakily when they finally spill over even if the tension in your torso slowly ebbs away as you let go.

“You’re alright. Just breathe for me,” he says softly. He brings his hands to your thighs and rubs them in an attempt to soothe and ground you, “Slow and steady in through the nose and out the mouth. Right now, you don’t have to do anything but calm down, and then I can take a look at you.”

The room around you seems distant as you try to breathe more steadily but you’re lightheaded, feeling almost as if you’re wrapped in a woolen, fuzzy blanket that blocks everything out besides him. You aren’t sure if it is the adrenaline crash anymore or the way that your whole body is so tightly wound for pleasure that won’t come but you crave his touch, crave him taking care of you.

“You’re okay,” he says over and over, drowning out the static in your ears, “No more crying, sweet angel. I’d rather not see you leave here like this.”

The nickname makes you snap out of it. Angel? Did he just call you an angel? Your tears go on hold when you continuously blink up at him from your seat on the desk, pawing at his chest without knowing what to do with all your longing. He makes you feel all the things you have felt since you met him all at once now, a dizzying flurry of thoughts and feelings.

“That’s better,” he smiles genuinely for the first time and you melt right then and there. He looks so damn handsome when he does it that you go ridiculously doe-eyed at the sight.

“Thank you,” you mumble while playing with the buttons on his white shirt. The butterflies in your belly have nearly made the pulsing ache of your backside disappear.

“Stand up,” he says and removes your hands from his chest which you probably make a much bigger deal out of than him, “I need to take a look at you.”

You stand on wobbly legs. Slowly and carefully, he skims his fingers over the inflamed skin and notes out loud that it is warm. It’s not a soothing caress for the sake of tenderness, but rather a deliberate check-in to take note of how much damage he’s done. He works methodically, like a man who daily works with scientific research and experiments, going over each part of you while humming at his discoveries.

“Right. Cool compress when you get home for the swelling, ten-fifteen minutes on and off. Frozen peas will do,” he instructs in the exact same tone as when he gives out science homework, “The skin is still intact but you’ll be sore if you don’t treat yourself with a little kindness. Lotion if it is too much to bear and loose clothing. Not a pencil skirt like this one, we clear?”

You nod with the hint of a pout.

“And,” he adds and grabs lightly at your chin, his tone suddenly playful, “Try not to miss any more deadlines.”

It’s a joke, you realize, something to lighten the atmosphere in the lecture hall and you barely register it from the way his fingers hold your head in place. Despite your watery eyes and racing heartbeat, you huff out a little laugh.

“There we go,” he coos at the sound of your chuckle, “Not so gloomy anymore.”

With gentle hands, he reaches just below your hips to pull your underwear up over the curve of your ass again, careful not to let the waistband tug at the sensitive skin. He does the same with your skirt, tugging the hem down over your thighs until you look decent once more.

Your lips part slightly as your eyes slide up to look at his face, feeling dumbstruck by his brown intelligent eyes and his aquiline nose straight out of the statues from Ancient Rome. You admire the column of his neck, the mentioned beauty mark just above his collar, and the dip that you want to kiss.

After a moment, you realize that you have gone quiet and when you look back at his eyes, you are dizzyingly meeting his suddenly intense gaze. It is as if he has calculated that you are back with him, lingering with desire albeit still a little shaken by your tears. His eyes are burning into yours and you can feel the restraint behind them. It is as if you can sense the electricity in the air, the warmth that prickles in your cheeks, and the heat that radiates from him.

Without a word, he reaches to tuck your shirt into your skirt until it hugs your figure tightly, a fashion choice different from how you had arrived in his classroom earlier. The dominance of styling your clothes as he prefers it makes you press your thighs together, the dull ache returning between your legs.

“I’ve noticed, seen it all. That’s why I did it,” he says cryptically as he stuffs your shirt down at the back, fingertips brushing the dip of your spine until heat racks up it.

“Noticed what?” You ask foolishly but had you stopped to think, you would have figured it out already.

“All the energy you’ve put into getting me to notice you and getting my undivided attention. Congratulations, you’ve finally got it,” he clarifies and lets both his hands rest on the small of your back for the briefest of moments. When he lets go of you, you follow his touch by leaning in to close the distance with a kiss.

He places a hand on your chest, holding you back just when you are pressing the ghost of a kiss to his lips. He has given you so much by now. Why not this? A ball of frustration settles in your chest and comes out as a little whine of impatience, “Why can’t we?”

He doesn’t pull away, simply speaks less than an inch from your face so you can feel his breath on your mouth, “Because you need to learn restraint, sweet angel. I can’t have you missing your deadlines three weeks in a row - or at all really - due to some little crush.”

You want to defend yourself, say that it has nothing to do with him but deep down, you know it would be a lie straight to his face. So instead, you swallow thickly, “I want you. I’ve wanted you since I saw you.”

“And you will have me,” he kisses you so softly that you want to sink to your knees, “Just not until I say so, and certainly not before you’ve been a good girl and turned in that paper.”

“Sir,” you try one last time.

“I’ll teach you to be patient, to have restraint,” he tells you and makes you realize your attempt was to no avail, “Whether you like it or not.”

You give in, buzzing with the need for more, “I can turn my paper in on Monday. Would that suffice?”

“I’ll hold you to that, but no late nights and last-minute scrambling. If I find you’ve rushed through it…” he lets the sentence drift off, letting your imagination figure out the consequence, “And it best be your best work yet.”

“Yes, sir,” you reluctantly pull back when nothing seems to work, “Whatever you want.”

“Hand it to me during office hours before class,” he instructs to which you nod.

“But what now?” You ask with a tiny impatient noise, letting him know just how much you’ve got against his reluctance to touch you.

His hand flexes by his side, “Now you go home. You lock your door and you touch that pretty thing between your thighs just how you like it most. I want you to come for me until you’re hoarse. Three times for three weeks but no more than that, not until we see each other again.”

It is Wednesday and you won’t see him until Monday. How on Earth are you going to survive on only three orgasms after this? Your mind races with protests but you don’t get to voice your concern about the limit he has set because he has already stepped back to pick up his jacket from his desk chair.

You decide to circle the table to pick up your book and stuff it into your bag. Behind you, Reed’s eyes are definitely on you as you lean forward with a hand on the desk. He is fixing the cuffs of his sleeves and putting on his tweed jacket, trying to come off as if letting you have a private moment to compose yourself.

“Monday,” he reminds you when you stand upright again. His arm stretches out between the rows of chairs and tables once more so he can unlock the door for you.

“Yes, sir,” you answer obediently.

You swing your bag over your shoulder and then you leave.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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dilf-docs · 21 days ago

Text

This Thing Upon Me, Howls Like A Beast

professor!pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: to cover some social hours and as a favor to your recently fallen-ill friend, you become your research methodology professor's TA. but here's the catch: you've got history, and what you really mean is beef; good, pure, unadulterated loath.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, pwp, rivals to ??, hate sex, p. in v. (do i even wrap it atp), degradation kink, daddy kink, lwk exhibition kink bc this happens on his office (rip to the furniture), bit dom!pedro + brat taming (again?? stop it mayor we get itttt omg) sprinkled here and there, fingering, squirting, creampie (everyone got invited to the party), reader is a loud-mouth (who's this divaaa), pedro's kind of an asshole and a perv in this one (ooc sorry), don't expect a second part this is literally just self-fulfilling filth without a storyline

word count: 6,451 words

side note: hello! this won the poll. am i the only one with this fantasy? pls tell me not; i feel insane looking some of my professors like a fucking starved drooling dog. giggling as we speak, bc the movie's got everybody insane between marvel renaissance, gif dump, new content, husband!pedro material and professor wet dreams out there... this piece of work is the last. hope you enjoy it, citizens! ps. jin of bts makes an appearance bc i love my seven men and i'm currently sick so he is sick too lmao (ah pero para escribir cochinadas ahí sí estás sana verdad)

It's your fault, really, for opening it in the middle of the class. It was a link, and you should've saved it for later, but then your thumb clicked into the blue underlined text your friend sent, and the reel popped up on your screen.

Your laugh erupted before you could cover your mouth, your professors' words hanging mid-air.

"Who did that?"

Everyone looks at you. Those sell-out, ass-kissing, boot-licking dicks.

His eyebrows furrow until they seem to melt into one, a big angry scowl on Mr. Pascal's face.

"Something you'd like to share with the class, Ms. Y/n?"

His voice reverberates on the class' walls, sounding even scarier.

You shake your head, tone quiet as you let out a small, "No"

"No?" he repeats your words, mocking your insecure demeanor, "because with that loud ass laugh, it seemed like something important enough to dissrupt my class. So please, share. You can't leave us wondering in here"

People cough and avoid your gaze while you wish the building would collapse and kill everyone inside, you included. Oh, that would be good. But no, you're stuck on a space that now feels too small and his persistent gaze cuts right through you.

"I-It's not important-" you stumble over your words.

"Can't speak anymore? All that boldness, suddenly gone"

"Mr. Pascal" you plead. God, you had never even begged for anything in your life. But there's always a first.

"I said share" his voice menacing, like he's got not an ounce of sympathy in that sturdy body that could fit plenty. No, wait. Focus!

He grows impatient at your lack of movement, practically growling his next words:

"I won't repeat myself"

"I-I I don't know how to-" you cut yourself off, cringing at how pathetic you sound. "It's a video, so-"

"Then cast your phone and project it" he clicks his tongue, clearly enjoying this. What a sadistic motherfucker.

"I-I can't-"

Can Jesus please hurry up and come fast? Even better, immediately take this one to hell, please.

"Aw, you poor thing" he tuts, mockingly. No one dares to speak, and you'll learn later that he's got his own reputation. For a reason.

"Don't worry, I'll help you myself"

Turns out, the fucker made you and your shaky legs stand up and walk the walk of shame. Then, you had to proyect the silly video, which in handsight, wasn't funny anymore. While some of your classmates laughed, that didn't lessen how humilliated you felt.

It had happened during your first year at university, on a subject you really couldn't care less and when you were still (practically) a baby; freshly eighteen. But now you were twenty, almost finishing your career, and the shaky insecure teenager was long gone, replaced by a secure (albeit a bit of a bitch), confident woman.

That had been your first encounter with professor Pascal.

You have to give him some credit: he is kind of the reason why you did a full 180 on your personality.

But life always comes back to bite you in the ass.

"What do you mean you're sick?" you scoff, "we were supposed to go to Dave's party tonight!"

Your friend lets out a cough that sounds borderline animalistic.

"First of all, don't come closer. I'll pass it to you" Jin speaks up, voice rough from the earlier death-threatening cough. "And second, do you think I care about a stupid party? I'm dying here"

"Don't be so dramatic" you roll your eyes.

"Hello? Didn't you hear that cough?!" he sounds offended, reinforcing the feeling by throwing one of his used tissues at you. You dodge his lame throw with a yuck. "I think you're devoid of empathy"

"Well, thank Mr. Pascal for that"

Jin wasn't your friend when that happened, but when you became buddies, he eventually came to know about your beef with the older man. Yes, beef, because after the Reel Deal (as you both have come to call it), he made your life impossible. If it weren't for your skills and intelligence, you'd probably fail his subject. Mr. Pascal gave you the hardest time ever: be it pairing you with the absolute worst students or making your assigments more difficult, for an "unknown" reason.

Eventually, even after such a traumatic experience and subject being way behind, it became a staple in your duo to bring him up everytime something negative happened or was mentioned.

("You're so funny!")

("Thanks, a professor pushing fifty made my life impossible when I was eighteen")

But here's an even funnier thing: for unknown reasons, Jin became his TA last semester. Probably he didn't know that you were friends, and that has to be the reason he's actually a decent human being towards the younger boy. I'm telling you, Jin would insist, the whole mean asshole shtick is propaganda!

"Talking about him..."

"Stop" you raise your hand dramatically, "enough bad news today"

"You can still go to the party, you know?" he giggles, earning another cough that practically leaves him voiceless. "Why do you insist on taking me? I don't know this people!"

Jin was two years older your senior.

"But it's not fun without you!" you insisted on dragging him around everywhere after you met because he tutored you. "Who will I bore with all my failed flirting attempts?"

"Thank God, not me" he ignores your pout. "Besides, wasn't like Marcos insisting you went with him? There's your chance!"

"But Marcos is boring..." you draw out, "and I need a man who makes me laugh"

"You can't really ask for that much in this economy"

Okay, here's the deal: there's another reason you can't let go of the Mr. Pascal subject, and it's not because of the beef. Hell, Jin can't know about this or he'll never let you live.

The answer is quite simple: as infuriating as he is, Mr. Pascal is hot. Like, middle-aged hot, with the greying hair and face marked by lines that tell time. If it wasn't for him you'd probably never discover your preference towards more... aged meat. You should be furious, and you were, but during all your petty arguments over topics or slides that didn't deserve to be reviewed for more than five minutes, the fire that ignited in your lower belly? You've never felt it before, and if that managed to get you more hot and bothered than a fresh boy ready to kiss your lips, neck and below? Well, that's a serious issue.

But it was his voice, that treated you with such vitriol, a deep and rich sound reserved just for you, or be it the way his auburn eyes seem to catch fire whenever you opened your mouth, dark forests burning in flames that threathened to reduce it all to ashes; yo were eager, anticipating the burn.

He saw your defiance, and instead of putting you in your place, he matched that wild rageful spirit of yours that refused to be tamed.

And that you liked, despite the history of hate between you.

"What about him?" you appear nonchalant, while retouching your makeup for the party.

"About him who?" Jin quips, "we just talked about two fine men-"

"The much older man"

A weird smirk forms across his lips. "Sure, of course"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. But it will be fun, nonetheless" he sits up straight from his previous surrendered position on the couch. "So, remember how I'm his TA, right?"

"Yes?" you pause. "Wait, if this is for me to help you check again more homeworks, no. I am not helping you read a hundred papers again for free"

"They weren't a hundred!" he barks. "Besides, it's not that"

"Then?" you press, not admiting how interested you were.

"Do you see my poor state?" you nod, not understaning where he's going. "Then, you're aware I'm not capacitated to do said task as of right now"

"I'm aware" you repeat, "what I'm not, is what does that have to do with me?" you resume your activity, going for your eyeliner. "So much mystery when you could've just said it in a pass"

"I need you to cover up for me"

The liquid eyeliner paints a line across half of your face. "What?!"

He laughs at your reaction, "You heard me"

You leave the mirror, now focusing your attention on him. "It's not April Fools yet, Jin. Heads up, it was a terrible prank"

Even if it made you hot to have such dynamic with your former IM professor, you weren't exactly keen on seeing him again. For you, he had turned into a memory slash fantasy at some point: an asshole that got your panties wet and pussy slick when you touched yourself at night, on behalf of all the dumb uni boys who couldn't reach that sweet spot of yours. What a dirty girl, his velvet voice on your head would say. Why are you touching yourself to your supposed foe, a much older guy? Fucking slut. Yeah, there was no way you'd go back to the real thing for the real him to taint the image you got off almost every night to, so he could say your name in that animosity that leaked with a barely contained rage and poorly disguised distate that left a bitter taste on your mouth, ego and self-steem on the ground. Because the truth is, no matter how much you argued back, he always won. You had just found your voice, but all efforts to bring him down seemed powerless, and he had won every single battle: even if he didn't have the last word, just with a look, he made you feel small, stupid and meaningless.

Nope. Not going back.

"And you have a terrible way of coping" he's quick to counter back. "Listen, it's not so bad. You just have to do meaningless tasks and pretend to be interested. Simple, right? Look, those extra credits could be useful, you know? And you excelled the class, y/n. Easy!"

"You're making it sound trouble-free as if the man doesn't hate me"

"He's definitely forgotten about it!" he waves his hand, dissmisively. "Probably jokes about it, like us!"

"Mr. Pascal doesn't seem the type of guy to have humor"

"Humor me, then" Jin sighs. "Do this for me, yes? When have I ever failed you?"

You wish for some sense to get into his skull. Had he forgotten every single anecdote?

"Think of all those times where I've taken you home, carried you drunk. Or the sad heart breaks I've been through with you, remember? Brought you ice cream and watched your favorite movies. Or when I used to tutor you? Or-"

"Enough of your emotional manipulation, Mr. Kim" you shake your head, dissapointed, all to avoid the quiet rage to settle in. "I thought better of you"

"It's for a week. Days if this pills do a miracle" his big black eyes look at you, pleading.

"Jin, you're not being a very good friend"

"It's just this one favor" he sighs. "Look, I can't loose this thing, okay? I get the credits I need to finally leave this shithole. If I don't show up, they'll hand it to someone else. You may not believe it, but it's very demanded"

People making lines to be emotionally abused by your former IM professor? Sure thing!

"Can't you tell someone, though? I'm sure they'll understand and you can go back once this cold is gone"

"I already did so, and they told me to show up or quit, due to the wait list of people applying for the position" you roll your eyes at your university's antics and their bullshit policies. "I don't trust anyone else to not fuck it up, but you. You'll just have to tell him about this minor inconvenience, and Mr. Pascal will understand. You know, I'm kind of his favorite guy in there..."

Great, just what you needed.

"Sorry to break it to you, but as soon as I walk through that door, all that pretty boy privilege would be gone"

"Please, y/n. Please"

"You'll never ask me any other favor?"

"No" he looks rather desperate; it's funny. "Hell, you can use the lake cabin for your birthday bash if you-"

"Deal"

Were you that easy to buy, huh? What does that say about you? Fucking ass sell-out.

Okay, but a birthday party in that all glass modern cabin with a deck and a jacuzzi does sound tempting. Who could be blamed? Not you, who will have to face her biggest foe in exchange for one wild bash.

You take a deep breath, imagining the lake water splashing and champagne on the deck (ugh, Jin's parents had a waterbike too. They were loaded), before knocking on his office. The door flings open, almost hitting you in the face, and there he is: Mr. Pascal, with his brown hair with white on the sides, loose curl over his face. Your fingers definitely don't itch to touch it, of course.

He's sporting a grumpy look (when doesn't he?), his big hands (you had forgotten how big they were) holding a bunch of papers (great, work!).

"Goddamn it, Jin. I was about to call you for standing me up, you know I hate when people don't tell me-"

He stops on his tracks, and that all too familiar scowl deepens his face.

"You"

Seethed with such venom, it's quite scary. Your legs tremble, yet your pussy clenches.

"Yes, me" you can't help but let out a little laugh at his antics. What did Jin said about him not remembering you? Well, can't be blamed; you weren't easy to forget.

His jaw clenches while looking down at you, but this time, you don't dare to flinch.

"What are you doing here?"

"See, Jin is my friend-"

He interrupts you, body frame resting on the door with a relaxed posture, but his shoulder looks tense.

"Oh, I liked him. Liked, as in past tense" he emphasizes, like a child throwing a tantrum. "How can a kid like him be friends with you?"

"We're best friends, thank you very much. As a matter of fact, I'm here as a favor" you hand him Jin's written apology, that may have one or two sneezes over it. "He's sick, and I'll cover him for a week, just so he doesn't loose the position. Said you would understand"

"I do" he replies on an instant, "you I don't"

"I passed your subject. With honors, even after you made my life impossible" you reply. "I'm the best candidate, face it"

He's rendered speechless for a moment, before he bites back:

"What makes you think I won't do it again?"

Now it's you who doesn't know what to say. It's infuriating how he still keeps winning.

"That's right" a wicked smile adorns his face. "Stay and find out"

Boy, don't you love a challenge?

So you stayed, much to his surprise. The bastard probably thought you were still the same scaredy mouse from first year.

Oh, it was delicious the way his whole face fell at your entrance next morning, how he quickly replaced it and introduced you in a clipped tone.

"Where's Jin?" a girl sitting in the front row had asked, more students joining to ask for his absence. You wonder if your friend's popularity stems from his brain or looks.

"He's sick" you answered. "But don't worry, he'll be back soon"

"Thank God" Mr. Pascal voices out loud.

You shoot him a look. He wasn't joking about not making it easy, was he?

"Oh, I didn't take you as a man of faith, Mr. Pascal, but you're right. It's important to thank our Lord everyday. So, thank Him for this week where I get to offer my suffering. In reward" you turn to face him, all the class silent as they take in your weird exchange, the atmosphere tense, "I'll never see your face again"

This time, you weren't going down without a fight.

"We'll see about that"

There it was: the fire to your gasoline.

So you pushed back, and argued everytime you disagreed, things that weren't part of your work but you still did because well, if he was still hellbent on making you suffer, you weren't going to make it easy for him this time.

If students argued against him, you took their side; even if just one did, you had their back.

You finished grading, but when returning the papers, you'd let them fall with a heavy thud over his desk, not even daring to look back.

At the time he'd talk to you, you wouldn't answer, instead just doing so, but no words to be uttered his way, as if he wasn't worth the effort. Not even a clipped okay.

And you enjoyed this; savored how he'd take every one of your petty actions with his full chest, eyebrows furrowed and face red in anger, but never answering, just silent, like deep in thought, a cold and calculated look overtaking his brown eyes.

Then the veins on his neck would pop as the ones of his tight white-knuckled grip on his mug. He'd speak up, and his voice had your legs shaking for some friction, wet spots now more often on your lingerie.

That he didn't know.

All he did was you were now more than a pebble on his shoe: a huge fucking stone, going down the hill, ready to squash him.

But boy, didn't he love a challenge?

It's Friday, aka last day of Torture Week.

You drop the quizzes for next Monday on his desk with the same harsh movement you had done all week.

"And it's over" you announce, papers plopping next to him, who is writing something. Mr. Pascal's hand moves, his L much longer than it should be. He looks up at you, annoyed, but his eyes flash with a hint of amusement.

"I see you can talk"

"Well, you already know me, Mr. Pascal. So you should be aware of what I can do"

"Love if you'd enlighten me"

He leans back on his chair, arms resting behind his head. It's hard not to take a brief glance to the flexing muscles, or how he's rolled up his sleeves, arms bulking up with the action, the fabric tense. It's hot in here. Wait, or has it gotten hot? Your face feels red, and when he catches your lingering gaze, he smiles devilishly.

"Like what you see, Ms. Y/n?"

No. You refuse to let him win this again, so close to the end.

"The release from prison?" you regain your posture, "very much"

"You may be a loud-mouthed brat, always knowin' what to say. I'll give that to you" he props himself to the front, elbows now resting on the desk as his eyes scan yours with a shade of dark covering them. "But a good liar you ain't"

You try to remain still, face emotionless, but your professor is a man of experience; an expert on his field. He who investigates, who has majored to be able to notice every small detail that can contribute to a hypothesis, has now formulated his.

You want this as much as he wants to.

You, with your wobbly legs and nervous eyes, glancing up at him with a hungry gaze that matches his own, despite your angry posture and irritated tone. You, that picked up petty arguments just to rile him up, because you liked the command for power on his voice. You like this, didn't you? Feeling small and weak, fangs pointy, just barely gracing the skin; the edge what set your skin on fire.

He isn't one to hold grudges (he's just mean all the time), but Pedro is willing to show you he hasn't forgotten about the years, and he'll be more than willing to fuck that bitchy attitude out of you.

"Hello?" you snap your fingers in front of him, "are you there?"

He snaps back to reality, your face covering his vision. In his position, he gets rewarded with a delicious peak at your breasts and the nude lingerine hiding them. He can imagine the perked nipples and the rosy plush skin he'd love to trace his tongue with, because even when you speak in a harsh voice, your eyes speak another thing. Fuck, he thinks he can even smell your arousal.

"I was talking to you" you don't even give him room to reply; snotty ass. "Said I was already leaving"

He thinks of himself as merciful. So he stands up, your bodies barely brushing against each other for a second, before he's opening the door, towering over you. He's so close, you can see the grey hairs mixed with the brown ones on his beard and mustache. God, you can smell him: coffee, cigarrettes, sandalwood and leather.

"You're free, Ms. Y/n" he follows your line of joke from before. "Just, humor me with one last thing"

You glance over at the clock above his desk. It's barely noon.

"Yes?" as dry as possible.

"Why did you accept?"

It's a simple question, really, but it manages to catch you off guard.

His tone is so different, maybe that's why: it's low, impossibly low. For less attentive people, it could even pass as a growl. But you hear, the amusement and dare laced within the velvety tone.

"Because I'm a good friend" you manage to speak, his body caging your smaller frame against the door.

This is ridiculous. You can leave at any time. Hello? Have your legs not gotten the memo?

"I didn't think you were capable of good things"

You huff, annoyed. "Well, I passed your subject, didn't I?"

He clicks his tongue.

"Many before you, and more after you have. Doesn't make you special, y/n"

Your name alone leaves a savory and toxic sweetness on his tongue.

"But how many of those you remember?" Mr. Pascal shots up an eyebrow, confused. "Tell me, how many can you name? That's right. I changed your life, whether you like it or not"

He's quick to reply. "Bullshit"

"Bullshit" you mock his angry tone, "but you recognized me the moment you opened the door. It didn't even take you seconds, hell, you hadn't even fully seen me and you knew who I was. Doesn't take a great investigator to figure it out, does it? So I take you missed me"

He can't believe your fucking mouth.

But then Pedro's remembering the way his pants tightened when you started to stand up to him, getting even worse when he still managed to shut you up. Fuck, the way you had smirked when you approved his subject during your last project delivery. He let you, because well, you had earned it: for the way your image had been the perfect companion for his hand pistoning his cock will full force, thinking of that loud mouth of yours gagged with it. Or when you walked past him in the hallways, wrapped in your own little bubble, your carefree laugh erupting and bouncing off the walls, tickling every hair of his body.

Part of him had accepted Jin to be his TA if that meant having a piece of you, even if a small connection, to you. Did you think he wouldn't know? That he wouldn't see you walking by in those small skirts that rode over when you bent? He noticed you; after all, you were in the same place most of your day.

You had excelled his subject after all, hadn't you?

So of course you'd notice his stare lingering in your back like a hand over your ass. How his eyes would dart to the skirts you wore on purpose, attentive to the moment you'd drop a pen on accident and your panties would be on sight, a wet spot in the middle you hadn't even noticed that smelled. Fuck, and wasn't it sweet?

You really feel like you have won this, don't you?

"Miss you?" Pedro hisses the words out. "I didn't miss you. What I think is happenin', is that me missing you is what you want"

"And I think you're repeating the same words and fumbling thoughts because you're a big egocentric prideful asshole who can't admit he's got the hots for his younger student"

"God. Don't you have such a filthy mouth, baby?"

Before he can register and you've fully let the nickname sink, your hand slaps his face with a potent movement that reverberates across his office's walls.

"You're a fucking piece of work, Mr. Pascal" but instead of being offended (or you don't know, fight back?), he remains silent. "You dirty old spoiled prick. Think I would never fight you back? That you can get away with whatever this is?"

"Whatever this is?" he chuckles, a sound rumbling deep from his chest. "Well, pretty girl, ain't you started this?"

He looms over you, hot breath carressing your face softly.

"Me? Unbelievable" you scoff. "You're one to talk, humiliating a poor freshman"

"Poor? You were distracted, in my class! Did your parents never teach you manners?!" his words leave droplets of spit that land in your face. "I had to put your stupid ass in place; that'll teach you something"

"Like what?" you taunt, recklessly, chest up and down with uneven breaths.

"I see it didn't work" his body language does an immediate switch. You remember a predator ready to strike their prey. "Maybe I should've tried harder"

His eyes do a wild dance over your body as so do yours.

Lip. Eyes. Skin. Cleavage. His tight pants. Biceps. Legs. Hair.

Before you can register, he's got you pinned against his desk, door closed in a loud move. There's a click sound somewhere in between, but you're too busy feeling his big hands grabbing your face roughly, as if he wants to consume your skin and feel your very bones on his calloused tips.

His lips are impossibly wet and eager, hands needily gropping your body. He pushes all his weight over you as he deepens the kiss, his tongue now inside your mouth, making you falter.

You let out a breathy moan when your back hits the desk, the wood digging your skin, but he swallows it whole, making it impossible for you to talk.

"Mmph-"

"Mmph?" he mocks between kisses, not giving you the chance to take a breath, or maybe he was scared you would get the time to think and would push him away. "Just my mouth got you all worked up, baby? Can't even speak"

Your fingers run through his hair for support, curls between your fingers. They felt soft, like they were meant to be combed through over and over again. He dives his head in your neck, hot mouth wet with its trail of kisses, making you squirm.

"I see" his breath ghosts over your reddened skin, "you wanted this just as much, don't you? This boys aren't enough for you?"

Every hair on your body prickles, his mouth claiming every spot he could, bites and hickeys all over your skin. You whine, pouting your lips, missing his already.

"It's okay, baby" he laughs, "just gotta show them who's enough for you" he grunts, "a man"

Mr. Pascal takes off your shirt, well, basically rips the poor thing, his hands relieved to finally touch your breasts. He roughly grabs one of them, and you bite your lip so hard, you almost feel the bitter metallic taste in your mouth. He lowers himself, despite his aching joints, to play with your hardened nipples, lapping them with his warm tongue, sucking and swirling until they turn swollen.

Your hand finds its way to his formal pants, fingers gracing over the fabric, feeling his cock straining against it. Just like you imagined it: big, like his presence. If it could, your pussy would jump in excitement, realistically just throbbing and leaking.

You untie his belt and buttons so you can begin to rub over his boxers. You can feel him trying to meet your touches, grinding onto your palm. He groans, deeply, enjoying your hungry stare, steady beat, parted lips and wet cunt.

He bucks his hips against you, propping himself on the wall behind his desk, which had moved from its original position thanks to the mayhem.

"You clearly don't know what you got yourself into, baby. But don't worry, I ain't letting you go just yet"

He pulls the skirt up, revealing the damp panties and mess between your legs. He licks his lips before rough digits find your wet folds. His fingers carress your impossibly tight walls, coating them with your slick.

"So fucking tight" he groans against your collarbones, "thought of yourself as uptight but I can fucking smell you dripping, you dirty slut. Could tell you loved provoking me becayse that's the only way your snotty ass can get off"

"F-fuck you, Mr. Pascal" you manage to choke out.

"Where are your manners? After how I've rewarded your big mouth, you bitch" he takes off your panties with skilled practice, the piece falling to the floor with a weak sound. Your bare cunt makes you shiver. "You think you're smart, baby? You think you can play these games and face no consequences at all?" he tuts. "No, Ms. Y/n, you know I hate wastin' my time, so be a good girl and don't make this harder for you, get that?"

You whine at his words, but refuse to shut your mouth.

"Oh, I'm smart" you laugh, "smart enough to have you on your knees for me"

An ugly grin spreads across his features.

"I will never bend for a bratty pretentious slut like you" he grips your hair with force, leaving your neck exposed, "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, stupid cock hungry whore. You wanted my attention? It's all yours"

Then, with a low, almost feral growl, he grabs your hips and hoists you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He sweeps the papers and books onto the floor with a clatter, setting you down on the edge.

"You better behave, baby" Mr. Pascal bites your lower lip, "don't want people to know what we're doing in here, do you? Or would you want them to know just how much of a slut you are, spread on my desk as your cunt drips for me?"

He steps between your legs, pushing them further apart, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. He leans in, his face inches from yours, voice low in a threatening rasp.

"I'll behave, I promise" mind in blank.

"No loud mouth bitchy stuck up attitude?"

You free his cock, hands scouting his shaft, his base, and balls. You fondled them while his fingers lingered closer to your pussy.

"No"

"This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be fucked stupid and used for my pleasure? Well, get ready, because I'm not going to stop until I've had my fill of this sweet little cunt"

He savors at the sight of your glistening folds.

"Let me-"

He laughs, seeing how you desire to guide his cock towards your entrance.

"Eager, little one?" he teases.

"Yes" you whimper, "I need you so badly, papi"

Your plea mixed with Spanish sends him on edge. His eyes darken with a primal, almost feral hunger at your desperate plea.

His voice is strained, rough with barely restrained lust.

"Fuck, you needy little thing. You want to take my dick until this desk breaks?"

He rubs the swollen head of his dick against your dripping slit, coating it in your arousal. Then, with one powerful thrust, he slams into you, burying himself to the hilt in your tight, hot cunt.

"So tight" he groans, starting to move and setting a brutal pace from the very beginning. The desk shakes and creaks beneath you with each forceful thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the empty office. He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust, grinding his pelvis against your clit. He sets a relentless, punishing rhythm, determined to fuck you into oblivion.

It's a goddamn view in here: him above you, droplets of sweat falling to your face, pristine hair now disheveled.

At this point, you were clenching so hard it hurt, walls fluttering around his massive girth. But he's greedy, and he's pushing himself deeper and deeper.

"Runnin' your mouth but now all quiet as you take all of me, hungry greedy whore" he digs his fingers into your cheeks harshly, but you find pleasure in the sting the pain causes. "Bet this is all you been thinking since you started talking back, huh? Don't worry, daddy's got you"

Surprisingly, he leans down, capturing your mouth in a dominating kiss, tongue invading your mouth. His hand comes up to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly, a silent reminder of who you belong to.

"God. You're wet everywhere, baby"

His sweaty chest presses itself onto your tits as he forced his cock deeper within you, the plaid shirt sticking with sweat to his ablazed body, temperature high.

"T-the desk" you protest numbly; mind-fucked.

And oh, boy, doesn't he enjoy this view? Your fluttering eyelids, hazy eyes and trembling body.

So he keeps fucking you: pounding into you, rolling his hips skillfully, taking up all the space within you.

"I don't give a damn fuck about the desk, Ms. Y/n. I'm gonna fuck that attitude of yours until all you know is my name" he leans down, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. His hands grip your hips with bruising force, pulling you harder against him with each violent thrust. "Gonna break the desk, hell, fuck you on the floor if necessary, but you ain't leaving this office until my cum drips from your legs and everyone knows your tight little cunt is mine"

The desk groans and wobbles beneath you, the legs scraping against the floor as Pedro fucks you with wild abandon. The sound of your moans and the crude, wet slap of skin on skin echoes obscenely in the room.

His pubic bone grinds against your clit with each thrust, the rough friction sending jolts of electric pleasure shooting up your spine. His cock hits that perfect spot inside you, the one that makes your toes curl and your back arch off the desk.

He feels your walls starting to flutter around him, your body tensing as your orgasm approaches. Mr. Pascal leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a dark, intimate rasp.

"Why don't you be a good girl and tell daddy how good he's making you feel? Show me and everyone else what a desperate little slut you are, waiting for me to fill you up nicely with my seed"

He makes out of you a loud mess, a series of sweet sounds falling from your lips. You clench and he twitches, his digits holding your waist, keeping you in place for him.

"Good girl" he praises, "now you're gonna take it all, milk me dry, you greedy cocksleeve"

His thrusts become erratic and sloppier. The older man can feel your walls starting to flutter around him, body tensing as your orgasm approaches. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a dark, intimate rasp.

"Will you be a good girl?"

"Yes!" you cry out, "don't stop!"

You hated this humilliation, how easy it is for him to fuck you with his big cock. You fucking hated him. But didn't he make you feel so good.

"Then come on my cock, bitch"

You didn't think it was capable, no, but you did. A first, another first when it came to Mr. Pascal.

You squirt. You fucking squirted.

Pedro lets out a feral roar of triumph when your pussy spasms around his pistoning cock, your release gushing out and soaking his dick and the desk, papers and shit beneath you (no, not the quizzes! You had printed them this morning). He savors the way you throw your head back, eyes rolling until they turn white on your fucked-out face.

"Such a sweet cunt, baby" he praises. "Milk me dry, come on"

Your slick walls milking him dry pushes him over the edge, clenching around him, and he knew it was over. He snaps, arching his back as he roughly moans. With one final, brutal thrust, he buries himself balls-deep inside you, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he starts to come. Thick, scorching ropes of cum paint your insides, flooding your womb with his potent seed, still pushing the remnants inside when he grinds against you, his pelvis pressed tight to yours as he rides out the waves of his intense orgasm. His grip on your hips tightens, fingermarks surely to be left in the soft flesh as he holds you in place, ensuring you take every last drop of his release.

"That's it, pretty baby. Can't even speak, can you?" he captures your mouth in a deep, dominating kiss. Like he owns you. "As you can see, I'm a man of my word"

He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he pants softly. His eyes, when they meet yours, are dark and intense, filled with a primal, almost feral satisfaction.

It's humilliating, really, how your lips search for more. You need him, badly, despite how shit he treats you and how wrong all of this is. Is this a win or a loose?

"Good girl" he repeats, his sweaty forehead clashing against yours. The desk creaks yet again. You love when he praises you, and you whine on instintic, making him laugh. "Learned your place just yet? Listen carefully, Ms. Y/n: no matter what you do or say, I'll always win, get it? And you'll be nothing but a needy uptight slut who begs for my attention and cock"

He pulls out of you slowly, his softening dick slipping from your well-used hole with a gush of their combined releases. He tucks himself away, doing up his pants with quick, efficient movements. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, smearing a streak of his cum across it.

"Go on. Taste it, and tell me how it feels"

Your tongue does a lazy movement, making your lips moist thanks to the saliva and his cum, like a fucking gloss. You shouldn't enjoy this, really, but your body shivers when you feel the taste of him going down your throat as you swallow.

"Good" you manage to speak, salt on the tip of your tongue.

"Good" he repeats, voice low and menacing, "because we're just getting started"

#dilfistwrites #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fluff #professor pedro #professor kink #reed richards #the fantastic four: first steps

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pascalispimp · 28 days ago

Text

Damp, Dirty, His

Summary: Joel’s been through a lot, but mysteriously damp flannels? That’s a new one. When he sneaks home to investigate, but what he finds is far filthier than he imagined. His housemate’s got a thing for his shirts… and from the way she’s moaning into one, she’s got a thing for him too. And Joel’s got every intention of making it worse.

Warnings: 18+ afab and fem reader, p in v sex, alludes to curvy reader, unspecified age gap, no description of reader but has big boobs and ass, some dubcon but she’s into it, dirty talk, no use of y/n, unsafe sex, oral (m! receiving), fingering, finger sucking, creampie, degradation, praise kink, ass play

Word count: 4.3k

Joel Miller wasn’t a man who jumped to conclusions. He was a man of patience, of careful observation. Years of surviving had drilled that into him. But something wasn’t sitting right.

For the past few weeks, his flannels had been turning up… different. Damp in places they shouldn’t be. Not rain-soaked, not sweat-stained—just wet. He’d pick one up from where he left it, and the fabric would cling to his fingers, the scent of something faint but unmistakable lingering in the fibers. Something warm. Something intimate.

At first, he thought maybe the laundry had been left out too long. Maybe it was just one of those things. But it kept happening. And every time, it was one of his favorites. The ones he wore most. The ones she seemed to watch him in. His housemate.

She wasn’t careless. Wasn’t the type to spill something and not say a word. But Joel had noticed the way she lingered when he pulled on one of those flannels, how her gaze dragged over him, how she hesitated just a little too long when handing one back. He already had a feeling. And today, he was going to confirm it.

So instead of heading out on patrol like he was supposed to, Joel doubled back, moving quiet, careful. The snow crunched beneath his boots, but he knew the sounds of Jackson well enough to weave between them, to slip into his own home without so much as a whisper.

The house was still. The kind of stillness that came with someone who thought they were alone. He gently turned the knob and pushed the door open, the hinges whispering a soft protest. The warmth of the house enveloped him like a lover's embrace. His eyes adjusted to the dim light, and his gaze fell upon a sight that made his blood boil with desire and possessiveness.

And the moment he heard it—soft, breathy, a sound that hit him low in his stomach—he knew.

Her.

His flannel—his—draped over her frame, too big, the sleeves bunched around her wrists, the hem riding up as she moved. She was bent over the kitchen table, the flannel riding up to expose her round, bare ass. The shirt was too large for her, but it clung to her in all the right places, revealing her voluptuous figure, hips rolling into her own hand, her face turned into his shirt like it was the only thing tethering her to this moment.

And Christ, if that wasn’t a sight that damn near knocked the air from his lungs.

Joel exhaled through his nose, slow and deep. He should leave. Should turn around, pretend he hadn’t seen a damn thing.

But instead, he stepped closer, the floorboards groaning a little under his heavy boots. She gasped, spinning around with a start, her cheeks flushing a deep red. The flannel was open, and she had been using his shirt to muffle her moans. The sight of her, so vulnerable and caught in the act, only served to fuel his desire. He set the rifle against the wall, his eyes never leaving hers, and strode purposefully across the room.

"That why my flannels keep turnin’ up damp, darlin’?"

"Joel," she stuttered, her voice a mix of shock and arousal. "I-I can explain."

He didn't wait for her excuses. The sight of her flustered and exposed only added to the power he felt surging through him. "I don't want explanations," he said gruffly, his voice a low rumble. "I want to know why you're using my things for... that."

Her eyes widened, the pupils dilating as she took in the look on his face. It was a mix of anger and something else, something darker and more primal. She could see the tension in his jaw, the way his muscles flexed under his shirt. Joel was never one to mince words, and his directness only served to turn her on even more.

"I-I just..." she stuttered again, trying to find the words, but they were lost in the thick haze of lust that had settled over the room. The flannel fell open further, revealing her naked chest, her nipples hard with arousal. She reached for it instinctively, but Joel's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and stopping her.

"You like wearing my shirts, huh?" he said, his voice thick with a challenge. "Let's see how you like the real thing."

With that, Joel closed the distance between them, pulling the flannel from her body. She didn't resist, instead letting out a shaky breath as his calloused hands grazed her bare skin. He tossed the fabric aside, his gaze raking over her nakedness. The sight of her made him want to conquer and claim, to show her who was in charge here.

He grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her closer until their lips almost touched. "You're playing with fire, darling," he murmured, his voice a warning and a promise. He felt her pulse racing under his fingers, her body trembling with anticipation.

Their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, but Joel knew he'd already won. She was his for the taking, and she knew it. With a smirk that barely touched his lips, he claimed her mouth with a bruising kiss. His tongue pushed past her teeth, tasting the sweetness of her mouth as his hands roamed over her curves, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She moaned into the kiss, her body melting into his, and he knew he had her.

Breaking away, Joel stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers. "On your knees," he ordered, his voice low and demanding. She obeyed without hesitation, the submissive side of her bubbling to the surface, eager to please the dominant man before her. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, letting them fall to the floor. His erection sprang free, thick and proud, pointing straight at her plump, parted lips.

"Open," he said, and she did, her eyes never leaving his. He took a fistful of her hair, guiding his length into her mouth. She gagged slightly, but took him deeper, her eyes watering with the effort. Joel's hand tightened in her hair, controlling her movements as he began to fuck her face. He watched with a mix of pleasure and possession as she struggled to keep up with his rhythm, her cheeks hollowing with each thrust.

He could feel her submission, the way she eagerly took him in, and it only made him harder. "You like that?" he growled, his voice thick with lust. She nodded, unable to speak around his cock, and he chuckled darkly. "Good girl." He stroked her cheek with his thumb, the gesture oddly tender amidst the aggression.

Joel pulled out of her mouth with a wet pop, his cock glistening with her saliva. "You've been a bad girl, using my things," he said, his voice a teasing purr. "But I'm going to show you how to use them properly." He stepped back, grabbing a chair from the nearby table and spinning it around. He sat down, his erection still standing proud, and gestured for her to straddle him.

With trembling legs, she obeyed, her pussy wet and aching as she settled over his lap. He reached between them, stroking her clit with a rough thumb before plunging two fingers into her heat. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as he began to pump them in and out, his eyes never leaving hers. The way he touched her, so rough and yet so precise, made her feel alive, like she was teetering on the edge of a cliff and only he could save her from the fall.

"Beg for it," he demanded, his voice a dark whisper that sent shivers down her spine. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to give in, but the pleasure was too much. "Please, Joel," she whimpered, her voice barely a breath. "Fuck me."

The words hung in the air, heavy with need, and Joel's control snapped like a twig under a boot. He yanked her onto his lap, the chair groaning under their combined weight. He positioned the tip of his cock at her entrance, feeling her wetness and heat against his skin. With a single, powerful thrust, he buried himself inside her, making her cry out.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, her body tightening around him like a vice. Joel's eyes rolled back in his head as he savored the sensation of her warmth. He began to move, his hips rocking into hers, each thrust punctuated by a guttural grunt. She met him stroke for stroke, her breasts bouncing with the rhythm, the friction sending waves of pleasure crashing through her body.

He leaned in, his teeth grazing her earlobe as he whispered filthy words, degrading her in the most delicious way. "That's it, take it," he growled, his breath hot against her skin. "You're such a slut for me, aren't you?" She whimpered, her body responding to his words, her walls clenching around him. He liked it when she played the brat, but now she was all his, all submission.

He could feel her climbing closer to the edge, her breaths coming in ragged pants. He reached up, grabbing one of her breasts, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The pinch sent a bolt of pleasure through her, making her moan around his cock. He smirked, knowing he had her right where he wanted her.

Joel's other hand slid down to her ass, giving it a firm squeeze before his fingers delved between her cheeks. She gasped as he found her tight hole, teasing it with a single digit. "You're mine," he murmured, pushing into her untouched entrance. "All of you."

The sudden intrusion made her jolt, her eyes flying open. But instead of pulling away, she pushed back into his hand, eager for more. He chuckled darkly, his grip on her hip tightening as he began to fuck her with his finger, the dual sensation making her pussy clench around his cock. "So greedy," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You're going to take everything I give you, aren't you?"

Her only response was a muffled moan, her voice lost in the fabric of his shirt. Joel could feel her orgasm building, her walls fluttering around him like a caged bird desperate to fly. He leaned back, watching her face contort with pleasure, his own climax approaching like a storm on the horizon. His strokes grew faster, his hips snapping into her with a ferocity that left them both gasping for air.

He withdrew his finger from her ass, reaching around to pinch her clit as he fucked her harder. She bucked wildly, her nails raking down his back as the first wave of her climax washed over her. He felt her pussy clench, her juices flooding his cock as she screamed into the fabric of his shirt. The sound sent him over the edge, and with a roar, he emptied himself inside her, filling her to the brim.

Her orgasm was a symphony of sounds, her moans and gasps echoing through the small house. Joel held her hips firmly, ensuring she took every last inch of his release. He watched as she rode the peak of pleasure, her body shaking with the intensity of it all. When she finally collapsed against him, panting and sated, he couldn't help but feel a smug sense of satisfaction.

He kissed her neck, his breath warm and ragged against her skin. "You're mine now," he murmured, his voice thick with possessiveness. "And you're going to wear my cum as a reminder." He felt her shiver in his arms, the dirty talk only serving to excite her further.

Joel's thumb continued to circle her clit lazily, keeping her on the edge. "You liked that, didn't you?" he whispered, his voice a dark promise. "You liked being caught, didn't you?" She nodded, unable to form words, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure.

He pulled out of her with a wet sound, the head of his cock glistening with their combined juices. He stood, lifting her off his lap, and spun her around to face the kitchen counter. "Bend over," he ordered, his voice still commanding. She complied, her knees wobbly from the intense orgasm.

The cool countertop sent a shiver up her spine, and she gripped the edge, her knuckles white with the effort. Joel stepped behind her, his eyes feasting on her reddened, swollen pussy. He grabbed her hips, positioning himself again. With one swift movement, he plunged back into her, making her gasp. He was still hard, still insatiable. He began to fuck her from behind, his thrusts deep and powerful, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the room.

Her breasts bounced with each impact, the painful pleasure sending her spiraling back towards the edge. She could feel his grip tighten, his hands leaving bruises on her hips, and she loved it. He was claiming her, marking her as his own, and she reveled in the feeling of submission. She pushed back into him, taking him deeper, her walls clenching around his length.

"You want more?" he growled, his hand reaching around to pinch her clit again. She moaned, the sensation too much, too intense. He chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing her ear. "That's my girl." He pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into her, the suddenness of it making her cry out.

The kitchen counter was slick with their sweat and desire, their bodies moving in a dance of passion and dominance. Joel's hand reached up, wrapping around her neck, his thumb pressing lightly against her throat. The subtle hint of control sent a thrill through her, making her pussy clench around him. She pushed back, eager for the pain, for the feeling of him owning her completely.

He groaned, his hips pistoning into her with renewed vigor. The angle was perfect, hitting her g-spot with every thrust. She could feel another orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to shatter her into a million pieces. "Beg for it," he whispered, his breath hot against her neck. "Tell me you want it, tell me you need it."

Her voice was a desperate whine as she pleaded, "Please, Joel, please let me cum again." He tightened his grip, his thumb pressing slightly harder on her clit. "Not until I say so," he said, his voice a dark command. She whimpered, her body writhing under his control. He knew exactly how to play her, how to tease and taunt until she was begging for release.

He slowed his pace, drawing out each thrust, savoring the feel of her tightness around him. The anticipation was intoxicating, a sweet torment that made his balls ache with need. He watched in the flickering candlelight as her ass cheeks clenched with each movement, her pussy gripping his cock like a vice. The room was a cacophony of their harsh breaths and the wet sounds of their bodies colliding.

"Please," she moaned, her voice desperate. "I need it."

Joel's hand slid from her throat to her clit, his thumb circling it with the perfect amount of pressure. "You're going to come for me," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "But not yet." He watched her body tense, her muscles tightening around him, desperate for release. The power was intoxicating, the way she trembled under his touch.

He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back. "You're going to take it all," he breathed into her ear, his voice a seductive growl. "Every inch of me, until I say you can come." She whimpered, her head dropping forward as she tried to push back against him, her hips moving in a silent plea for more.

The room was a blur of sensation, the smell of sex and sweat mixing with the faint scent of burning wood from the fireplace. The candles cast shadows across their bodies, flickering with each thrust. Joel's hand slid down to her ass, his fingers tracing the line between her cheeks before pushing into her again. The feeling of fullness was almost too much, but she craved it, her body begging for the painful pleasure that only he could provide.

"You're so fucking tight," he murmured, his voice strained with his own climax approaching. "I'm going to fill you up until you can't take anymore."

Her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth opening in a silent scream as she felt his thumb push past the tight ring of muscle, invading her ass. The pain was sharp, but it only served to heighten the pleasure. She was lost in a whirlwind of sensations, her body no longer her own as he controlled her every movement. Joel's other hand wrapped around her hip, guiding her to move back onto him, her pussy clenching around his shaft as he pushed deeper into her.

"Look at me," he demanded, his voice harsh. She opened her eyes, her vision swimming with lust. Their gazes locked, the intensity of his stare piercing through the fog of pleasure. "You're going to come for me," he said, his thumb moving in time with his cock, pushing her closer and closer to the precipice. "Now."

Her body obeyed, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. She screamed his name, her nails digging into the wood as she came apart in his arms. Joel's own climax followed swiftly, his cock pulsing inside her as he filled her up with his seed. He groaned, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself completely.

For a moment, they remained like that, panting and spent. Then Joel pulled out, his cock slipping from her with a wet sound that made her shiver. He stepped back, watching her with hooded eyes as she slowly straightened, her legs shaking. He reached out, tracing the line of her jaw with his thumb, his touch gentle despite the roughness of his hand.

"You're mine now," he said, his voice low and possessive. "Every inch of you." She nodded, her cheeks still flushed, her breaths coming in shallow pants. "Say it," he demanded. "Tell me you're mine."

Her eyes searched his, a mix of shock and awe at the intensity of what had just transpired. "I'm... I'm yours," she finally managed to whisper, the words thick with desire. He leaned in, his mouth claiming hers in a brutal kiss, his tongue demanding entry. She melted into him, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her climax.

Breaking the kiss, Joel grabbed her chin, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. "And don't you ever forget it," he warned, his voice a low rumble. "You wear my shirts, you take my cum. You're going to be walking around with a constant reminder of who's in charge." He smirked, watching the way her pupils dilated at his words.

Withdrawing his cock from her, Joel reached down, his thumb sliding through their mixed juices, and then back to her pussy. He pushed two fingers inside her, her walls still spasming from the aftershocks of her orgasm. She whimpered, the sensation overwhelmingly intense. He curled his fingers, hitting that spot that made her knees buckle, and began to pump his cum back into her. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her body jolting with each thrust of his digits.

"Look at me," he ordered again, his voice a gravelly whisper. She forced her eyes open, meeting his fiery gaze. "You're going to wear this," he said, pulling his fingers out and holding them up, glistening with their combined release. "Every drop." He brought his hand to her mouth, and she obeyed without question, licking and sucking her taste from his skin. He watched with a dark satisfaction as she swallowed, her eyes never leaving his.

With a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, Joel leaned in, his breath hot against her cheek. "Now, tell me how much you liked being caught," he said, his voice a sinful purr. She blushed, but the brat in her couldn't resist a little sass. "I liked it," she admitted, her voice a mix of defiance and arousal. "But maybe next time, you could be a bit more... creative with your punishments."

Joel's eyebrow shot up, and he stepped back, his cock still semi-hard and glistening. "Is that a challenge, darling?" He grabbed the flannel she'd been wearing earlier, now discarded on the floor, and wrapped it around her trembling body. "Because I've got plenty of creative ways to keep you in line."

Her heart skipped a beat at the promise in his words. "Maybe," she replied with a smirk, her voice still breathless from her recent climax. "But I'm not promising to be good."

Joel chuckled darkly. "That's what makes it fun," he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. He pulled her closer, his cock brushing against her stomach. She could feel it thickening again, a testament to his insatiable desire. "But for now," he murmured, "we should clean up before I have to be back out on patrol."

The water was cold when Joel turned on the faucet, but it did nothing to cool the heat that still lingered between them. He grabbed a cloth, soaking it before gently cleaning her up. The tender act was a stark contrast to the raw passion they'd just shared, and she found herself leaning into his touch, craving the comfort he offered. When he was done, he tossed the cloth aside and picked her up, carrying her to the bedroom.

He laid her down on the bed, his eyes raking over her naked body. He was still dressed, a stark reminder of the power dynamic they'd just established. "You're going to be the death of me," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. She couldn't help but giggle, the sound light and airy in the tension-filled room.

The bed dipped as he climbed onto it, his weight pressing down on the mattress. He hovered over her, his hand sliding up her thigh, his thumb brushing against her still-sensitive clit. She gasped, her body reacting instantly. He chuckled, the sound dark and seductive. "I can see you're eager for more," he said, his voice a tease.

He leaned down, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss that was both punishing and gentle. His tongue danced with hers, tasting the lingering flavor of their passion. When he pulled away, she was left panting, her eyes glazed with lust. "But I've got patrol," he murmured against her skin, his lips moving to her neck. He bit down, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make her moan. "You're going to have to wait for it."

Her hands found his shoulders, her nails digging in as she tried to pull him closer. "Please, Joel," she begged, her voice needy and desperate. He chuckled, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "You're insatiable." He kissed her again, his hand sliding down to cup her breast, his thumb teasing the nipple until it was a hard peak. "But I like that about you."

With a final groan of protest, Joel rolled off the bed, his cock still semi-erect. "I'll be back," he said, his voice a promise. "And when I do, you'd better be ready for me." He strode to the bathroom, the muscles in his back flexing with each step. She watched him go, her body still trembling from the aftermath of their encounter.

The cold water from the sink brought Joel back to reality, the chill a stark contrast to the heat of his desire. He washed his hands, taking a deep breath to compose himself. He couldn't believe he'd just taken her like that, in the kitchen of all places. But the sight of her in his flannel, her face flushed with arousal, had driven him over the edge.

Wiping his hands on the towel, he returned to the bedroom, his eyes devouring her again. She lay there, a mess of tangled limbs and desire, the flannel barely covering her curves. He couldn't resist leaning down to kiss her, his hand caressing her cheek. "I'll be back soon," he whispered, his voice hoarse. She nodded, her eyes still glazed with passion.

Joel pulled on his patrol gear, his mind racing with thoughts of her. The way she'd looked at him, the way she'd taken him, it was all he could think about. He had to get out there, had to focus on the job at hand, but she was a siren's call he couldn't ignore.

He stepped out into the cold night, the chill air slapping him in the face, a stark contrast to the heat they'd generated in the kitchen. The patrol was quiet, his mind wandering back to her, to the way her body had responded to his every touch. He found himself smiling, a rare occurrence in this post-apocalyptic world.

Hours ticked by, the moon casting eerie shadows across the deserted town. Joel's thoughts remained fixated on her, his cock twitching at the memory of her moans and whimpers. He'd never felt such a potent mix of lust and tenderness before, and it unnerved him.

When Joel finally returned home, the house was quiet, the only sound the crackling of the dying embers in the fireplace. He shed his gear, stripping down to nothing but his skin, his cock already hard with anticipation. As he padded silently towards the bedroom, his eyes fell on her, sprawled out on the bed, her chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths. She looked so peaceful, so innocent, but Joel knew the fire that burned within her, the desire that she kept hidden.

With a smirk playing on his lips, he stepped into the room, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open to find him standing over her, naked and gleaming with sweat. He leaned down, his hand trailing up her thigh, his breath hot against her ear. "Are you ready for more, darlin'?" he whispered, his voice a dark promise.

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andy-15-07 · 27 days ago

Text

Infinite Horizons

PAIRING: Reed Richards x reader

WORD COUNT: 1159 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The Baxter Building hummed with the quiet energy of invention. Fluorescent lights cast a cool glow over the laboratory, where papers, holograms, and whiteboards filled with intricate equations surrounded a single figure.

Reed Richards stood before a towering chalkboard, writing with swift, precise strokes, his mind working at a speed no ordinary person could match. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms dusted with chalk. His dark curls were slightly tousled, and his eyes burned with concentration as he scrawled symbols in a methodical yet fluid rhythm.

You leaned against the doorway, watching him. Admiring him.

There was something about seeing his mind at work that left you breathless. The way his brow furrowed, the way he whispered numbers under his breath, the way his fingers absentmindedly tapped against his chin when he hit a snag in his calculations—it was mesmerizing.

And he hadn’t even noticed you yet.

Smirking, you finally spoke. “You know, Reed, most people don’t spend their Friday nights romancing a chalkboard.”

His hand stilled mid-equation. He turned, his sharp eyes softening the moment they landed on you. “Y/N,” he said, and just like that, the tension in his shoulders eased. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

You stepped forward, arms crossed, head tilted in playful scrutiny. “You were too busy proving the meaning of the universe to notice, Professor Richards.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not quite. Just solving a little problem in quantum instability.”

You raised a brow. “A little problem?”

He turned back to the board and gestured at the dizzying array of symbols. “I’m attempting to stabilize the quantum field distortions in our multiversal gate. Right now, the energy fluctuations are unpredictable. If I can refine the equation, I might be able to prevent spontaneous breaches.”

You stared at the equations, pretending to consider them seriously. “Mmm, yes. Of course. Looks like... numbers.”

Reed laughed—a warm, low sound that made your heart flutter.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured, his fingers brushing over your wrist as he pulled you closer.

“And yet, here you are, madly in love with me,” you teased.

His lips quirked. “Madly.”

Your heart did an embarrassingly giddy flip, but you disguised it with another playful remark. “So, what happens if you don’t solve this equation?”

Reed sighed, running a hand through his curls. “Worst case scenario? Unstable dimensional rifts. Possibly reality imploding. Best case scenario? I get a headache and need coffee.”

You gasped dramatically. “A headache? We’re doomed.”

His eyes twinkled. “Not if you stay here and keep distracting me.”

You smirked but didn’t move away. Instead, you stepped behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his back. You felt him exhale, his muscles relaxing under your touch.

“Your brain is my favorite thing,” you murmured. “Well, one of my favorite things.”

His hand covered yours, fingers lacing together. “That’s comforting.”

“What’s the other worst-case scenario?” you asked, tracing lazy circles on the fabric of his shirt.

Reed hesitated, then sighed. “The math isn’t adding up. If I don’t find the missing variable, I can’t stabilize the distortions. Which means—”

“—which means no experimental travel through the multiverse anytime soon,” you finished.

He turned in your arms, facing you fully. “Exactly.”

You studied him for a long moment. “How long have you been at this?”

His silence was telling.

You groaned. “Reed. Have you even eaten today?”

He pressed his lips together in thought. “I had coffee.”

You placed your hands on your hips. “That’s not food.”

He exhaled through his nose, amused. “I was in the zone.”

“You always say that.”

“And it’s always true.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand. “Come on, genius. You’re taking a break.”

He resisted for half a second before relenting. “Fine,” he murmured. “But only because you’re bossy.”

You smirked. “And because you love me.”

He squeezed your hand. “That too.”

You sat cross-legged on the couch in the lounge, watching Reed as he leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee. The kitchen was bathed in warm, golden light, making him look impossibly soft despite the sharpness of his intellect.

“So,” you started, “what’s the missing variable?”

Reed sighed, rubbing his forehead. “That’s the problem—I don’t know. The math should work, but there’s a fluctuation that keeps throwing it off.”

You tapped your chin. “Couldn’t it be an external factor? Something you haven’t accounted for yet?”

He hummed in thought. “Possibly.”

“Have you considered... I don’t know, the energy signature of whoever’s opening the breaches? Maybe the anomaly isn’t in the math but in the source itself.”

Reed’s eyes widened slightly. “You might be onto something.”

You grinned. “Of course I am. I’m brilliant.”

He smirked, setting his mug down before walking over and placing his hands on either side of your head, trapping you in. “You are. And now, I’m going to need your help.”

Your brows lifted. “My help? In quantum physics?”

Reed grinned. “I need a second set of eyes. Even if they’re skeptical ones.”

You sighed dramatically. “I suppose I could lend my expertise.”

He chuckled and kissed your forehead. “Then let’s get back to work.”

Hours passed as you sat together in the lab, Reed scribbling equations while you sat beside him, offering insights where you could. It was a strange dance—you weren’t a scientist, but Reed valued your perspective. He thrived on discussion, on the challenge of explaining concepts in ways you could understand.

And you? You just loved watching him work. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Reed froze.

Your head shot up from where you’d been resting it on your hand. “What? What is it?”

His eyes flickered with realization. “You were right.”

You blinked. “Obviously. But about what?”

He grabbed your shoulders, excitement radiating off him. “The anomaly wasn’t in the equation itself—it was an external force! If I adjust for the unique energy signature of the breaches, the entire system stabilizes!”

You grinned. “I mean, I did suggest that hours ago.”

He shook his head, grinning. “You did. And I was too busy overcomplicating it to listen.”

You leaned closer, whispering, “Say it.

He narrowed his eyes. “Say what?"

“That I was right.”

He sighed dramatically. “Y/N was right.”

You smirked. “And?”

His lips twitched. “And Reed Richards was wrong.”

You gasped. “A historical moment. I need this on record.”

He kissed you before you could gloat further, his lips warm and insistent. You melted into him, savoring the quiet triumph in his touch. When he pulled away, his voice was soft.

“You’re my favorite variable.”

Your heart clenched in the best way. “And you’re my favorite genius.”

Reed exhaled, resting his forehead against yours. “Thank you for keeping me grounded.”

You smiled, fingers brushing through his curls. “And thank you for reaching for the stars.”

And in that moment, with the weight of the universe pressing against him, Reed Richards knew—no equation, no discovery, no multiverse could ever mean more than you.

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intrepidacious · 11 days ago

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step number one

summary: You haven't kissed anyone in a couple of years. Johnny's more than happy to help you out.

pairing: johnny storm x f!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: friends to lovers, making out (in the name of practice) please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: this was supposed to be my valentine's day fic but here we are. c'est la vie. hope you still enjoy this fluffy nonsense a week later 🫶🏼

masterlist | read on ao3

"You got any plans for tomorrow?" Johnny asks the day before Valentine’s Day, spread out on your bed like usual, his eyes not lifting from his phone.

You snort. "Yeah, right."

There’s something, you think, about the aggressively pink-and-flowers-and-chocolate aesthetic of this month that well and truly makes you want to throw up. 14 per cent discounts and coupley pictures and cutesy videos have been flooding your feed for the past week and a half, and with most of your friends neatly paired off as well, it’s like there’s absolutely no escaping the—

"Why not?" Johnny asks. "I mean, pretty girl like you gotta have guys lined up around the corner." The smile in his voice is sincere enough to let you believe he really does mean that as a compliment.

"First of all, ew," you reply, closing your app after yet another "date fit" video. "Second, the last date I went on ended with the guy leaving the country, so there’s that." Granted, you’d known about his travel plans beforehand, but still.

Johnny pushes up on one elbow. "Really. Coffee shop creep?"

You scowl at him. "Don’t call him that."

He’d been nice enough. Paid for your drinks and museum tickets. Hung his jacket over your shoulders when you started shivering. Yes, he’d also ghosted you and gone to Iceland, but it wasn’t like you’d known him that well.

You’d only gotten your hopes up too soon, like you always did.

"That was your last date?" Johnny says, attention fully on you now. "Wasn’t that, like, four years ago?"

"Five," you mumble, your cheeks heating. Almost six, but who's counting? "So, no, I’m not doing Valentine’s Day."

Being single is much easier, anyway. You don’t have to consider anyone else in your life; don’t have to wonder about what they’re doing or whether their family liked you or if they’re planning a three month trip abroad … huh. Maybe that one’s still somewhat of a sore point, after all.

"Why haven’t you gone out with anyone in five years?"

"I don’t know, it just sorta happened. Not everyone goes on a date with a new person every week."

"Gross exaggeration."

"Not really," you say, nudging his side with your toes. "Do you ever see those girls a second time?"

"Sometimes. Hey, when did this become about me?" He catches your foot when you make to poke him again. His smile doesn’t waver, but his voice becomes gentler when he speaks again, a little more serious. "I thought you want a relationship."

You swallow.

"I do," you say quietly. "It’s just … it’s scary. I don’t like putting myself out there, and I’ve been so busy with everything else. I don’t have time to worry about small talk or the fact that at this point I don’t even know how to kiss anyone anymore."

It’s a vicious circle, really. Wanting something serious while also being terrified of anything serious. And suddenly, almost without noticing, years have gone by and nothing has changed at all.

Next to you, Johnny goes very still.

Honestly, it’s not the reaction you’ve expected. Deep down, you thought he’d laugh, tease you about the fact that it’s been nearly six years since you’ve gotten intimate with anyone. Sometimes, you want to laugh about it yourself, even though at the same time, you don’t find it funny at all.

But Johnny Storm has always had more layers than people give him credit for; even you, sometimes.

"Do you …" His voice cracks and he clears his throat, staring at the wall behind you. "Do you wanna practice?"

You blink, heat rushing to your cheeks before you even understand what he’s asking. "Practice what?"

"Kissing."

…

Maybe your brain short-circuited. There’s been some misfiring in your neurons, mistranslating his actual words, because there’s no way on earth he’s just suggested what you thought you heard.

"I—"

"It’d be one less thing for you to worry about, you know," he interrupts, talking quickly. You’ve never seen him look at you this intently. He seems to realize from your stunned expression, and a shadow of his earlier smile softens his face. "Don’t worry," he says. "I don’t bite unless you want me to."

Your mouth opens and closes a couple of times, your heart pounding so loud you can hear feel it behind your temples. "I don’t know how to respond to this."

"Say yes," Johnny says. "We can just try it out. We don’t have to bring it up again after today, it’ll just be … preparation, you know? Step number one of getting you back in the game."

It doesn’t feel like a game at all, this suggestion.

The craziest part about it, though, is that you are seriously considering it. You stare at him, his pretty blue eyes and his cocky grin, and the earnest expression behind his nonchalant façade. No matter your answer, he wouldn’t judge you.

Besides, it’s not like you’ve never thought about it.

You’ve caught glimpses of Johnny kissing other girls one too many times not to secretly wonder what it would be like. To feel his lips on yours, the heat of his body pressed against you, your hands gliding over the short buzz of his hair.

It’s longer now, maybe even long enough to tangle your fingers in and yank.

"Fine," you say quietly, and watch his smirk falter ever so slightly.

No matter his grand bravado, he clearly didn’t expect you to agree. It’s sweet, the way he scrambles to sit up properly, not even caring that his phone drops to the floor.

"Yeah?"

You swallow, nod. There’s an excited blush spreading on his cheeks that’s kind of endearing but also makes you want to melt into the ground. The way he’s staring at your lips makes you feel aware of every single cell in your body. You can’t remember ever being looked at like this.

"Do you want to …?"

"I don’t know, can you just—"

His hand cups your cheek, warm and steady. He’s always so warm.

"Close your eyes," he says lowly, and they fall shut of their own accord.

You don’t think you’re breathing as you wait, your hands fisted into your blanket as if you’re trying to hold on for dear life. Maybe you are.

For a very long moment, nothing happens, and you’re starting to feel like you’re being ridiculed after all. Like you’re going to open your eyes to Johnny laughing in your—

His lips brush against yours, just a single, careful touch, lingering, testing the waters. You don’t dare to move, or breathe, or do anything but feel. Your mind is racing, even though you cannot catch a single coherent thought.

The sheets rustle, the mattress dipping as Johnny breaks the kiss, adjusting his position. His thumb is still on your cheek, a gentle caress.

"You in there, darlin’?"

"Yeah." Your grip loosens a little.

"Okay." His breath fans over your lips. "You wanna try again?"

You’ve barely started nodding before he dives in again.

This time, you’re a little more ready for it, moving your mouth against his experimentally. He smells nice. You don’t know what to do with your hands.

He pulls away again and your heart tugs painfully, but he only tilts his head the other way and goes back to kissing you, still so soft, so languidly, like he has all the time in the world. He makes no rush of deepening the kiss, which is so like and unlike him at the same time.

It’s you, then, who leans in closer, your tongue slipping into his mouth, your brain going in and out of focus with each shuddering breath as he responds fervently. His fingers move down to your chin, angling it just a little. One of your hands lands on his shoulder, seeking balance.

He tastes sweet. Dangerously addictive.

This time, you’re the one to move back, your eyes flying open, feeling like his fire has set your entire body aflame. "How’d I do?"

Johnny blinks a couple of times, staring at your mouth, his pupils blown wide. You press your lips together.

"Not bad," he says hoarsely. "Maybe a little …"

"What?"

"Come here."

He catches your hands, putting them around his neck. It’s an awkward position, the rest of your body still angled away from his until he raises an eyebrow.

You realize there’s two options before you, and you’re not ready to have him on top of you in your own bed.

Instead, you straddle his thighs, looking over his shoulder to not have to meet his eye. His arms fall around you, settling at your lower back, pleasurable heat crawling up your spine.

"This okay?"

You kiss him again.

He makes a startled noise against your mouth, tightening his hold on you as his head drops back, granting you easier access. Your heart is pounding so wildly in your chest it’s making you dizzy.

It’s the most natural thing in the world, to kiss him like this. To scratch your fingernails against the nape of his neck until he makes that sound again. It vibrates against your tongue, and you melt against him, his body hot and solid against yours. Even when you come apart for air, he’s the only real thing in the world.

There’s nothing innocent about the way your mouths crash together now. He swallows your surprised moan like he’s been hungering for it, his hands bunching up your shirt at your back. You shudder against him when he grazes bare skin, each new touch burning in the most delicious manner. You’re weightless, intertwined, content to never again draw a single breath that hasn’t fallen from his lips first.

His tongue slides against yours, tasting your mouth in a way that borders on desperate. You press even closer to him, your fingers slipping into his hair in that way you’ve wanted to for longer than you’ve cared to admit even to yourself, hips involuntarily stuttering against his until he groans, responding in kind to each push and pull.

Finally, after what well may have been hours, you come apart, your forehead pressed to his, chests heaving. You don’t want to open your eyes; don’t want to return to the aftermath of what you’ve just done.

"Go out with me."

You sit back. Johnny’s arms are still draped around you, and there’s a mesmerized smile on his face as he looks at you. "What?"

"Go out with me. On a date." His voice is rough and strangely hopeful, and it makes your stomach flutter. "I promise no small talk."

"You’re not serious."

"About you?" His gaze drops to your lips again. "Always." His nose bumps against yours. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" You exhale shakily, dropping to a whisper. "That’s soon."

"Hmm."

"Maybe I should practice some more before then."

He smiles against your mouth.

thank you for reading my first full length johnny fic 😌 i'm sure it won't be the last. if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!

#johnny storm x reader #johnny storm fic #johnny storm x you #johnny storm fanfiction #johnny storm oneshot #fantastic four fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #step number one

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averagewriter-inthedark · 26 days ago

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The Widow's Bite of Love🕷️ | Johnny Storm Imagine

Link to my Marvel masterlist | part 2 here

Characters & Pairings: JosephQuinn!JohnnyStorm x black widow!reader (romantic), the Fantastic Four (platonic).

Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, flirtatious banter, mentions of canon violence, canon divergence | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 2.7k

Requested 📨 yes/no

Premise: Having returned from an intense mission with the Fantastic Four, Johnny Storm receives a welcome home from his girlfriend that's both a reminder to always remember making his presence known, and that behind her rough exterior there's a softness reserved only for him.

note: yeah, Joseph's Johnny Storm already has me in a chokehold and the movie isn't even out yet. I'm having to improvise of course since we don't know much but I'm having fun creating AUs in the meantime. Enjoy 💌

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Johnny knew better than to not announce himself when he entered the apartment past midnight after returning home from a week's long mission. It’d take him a second to shout, “Honey, I’m home!” but all the energy in him was exhausted. The mission took longer than planned. He was bruised and covered in dried blood from superficial cuts to his face and shoulders. Staining the crisp blue and white suit he wore. All he wanted was to get out of the suit, spend an hour in the shower, and bury himself under the covers to sleep until the end of time.

However, that would have to wait.

As Johnny practically dragged his feet across the floor in the direction of his bedroom, forgetting to turn on the main light in the living room, he was knocked off his feet with a knee to his stomach. “Ummph!!”

His attacker pushed him into a wall, his body ricocheting off and dodging the next kick which would’ve hit his side. Their arms wrapped around him, maneuvering him with brute force to put him on his back and Johnny groaned at the pain that shot up his spine. He may not have broken any bones but that didn’t mean he was in great condition.

Using what little strength he had, Johnny put his whole body in pushing the figure off him. They let out a grunt and Johnny froze. It was hard to see, but there was something familiar about the moves his attacker was throwing at him and the familiar grunt that echoed in his ears. Then he caught a glimpse of their side profile thanks to the moonlight flickering in from the living room blinds.

‘Oh fuck…’

Johnny scrambled up and he heard her do the same. But whereas he raced to the light switch, she went to the coffee table and Johnny felt his blood drain. Thankfully he reached the switch first, flicking it on right as a dreading *click* filled the space.

“Baby!” his hands waved frantically, matching the tremor in his tone. “It’s me, baby! It’s Johnny!” The gun trained on him hesitated, and Johnny let out a breath of relief when he saw the instant recognition in her face. The relief only lasted a second though, because then he winced as it was replaced by fury.

“Jesus Christ, Johnny!! I could’ve killed you!!” Her scream echoed off the walls and matched her eyes full of wrath. “What the fuck did I tell you about sneaking up on me like that?!”

“I know! I know--I’m sorry!” his hands stayed up, threatening to fall down but he didn’t want to use any sudden movements knowing she was pumped full of adrenaline. Judging by the sweats and tank top she wore plus the wildness of her hair, she had to have been asleep and heard him come in. Sending her into agent mode. “I--I was distracted and I forgot to shout. I didn’t know if you were--I don’t…I don’t…” the words struggled to fall. His mind, fogged with fatigue, was racing with thoughts making it difficult for Johnny to get a grasp on them.

Plus, his heart was pumping from nearly being shot by his girlfriend.

Y/n, taking in his appearance fully for the first time since their unorthodox reunion, frowned and clicked the safety on the gun, tossing it on the coffee table where it’s usually hidden. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come at you like that without confirming--.” Johnny gently cut her off.

“No, you have nothing to apologize for.” His arms fell to his side as he moved to ease his body on the armchair closest to him. Every muscle in him screamed, and while the fire that consumed his veins helped, it wasn’t enough. “It’s one in the morning. You were probably asleep and I knew better than to just walk in and expect you to know immediately that it was me. After all,” he grunted with a wince, watching as she moved to the kitchen to flick on the kettle before approaching him. “We were supposed to be back two days ago.”

“Yeah I figured something went wrong when Sue refused to answer my calls,” her body crouched down so she was level with his knees. “I was tempted to come after you guys.”

“Why didn’t you?” he leaned forward with a wince, smiling sheepishly at her look at disapproval. He obviously wasn’t great at hiding his pain from her.

“Because you always have everything under control. You’d pull through,” she assessed his features, glowering at the cuts that marked his skin painted with dried blood. The splotches on his suit and slight tears in the fabric. “Looks like this time you had a little more cut out for ya.”

Johnny chuckled, “you could say that.” The whistle of the kettle sounded, and Y/n got up to begin making Johnny a cup of herbal tea. Handing him the steaming mug before squatting once more. The heat of the cup was comforting, and thanks to his powers Johnny didn’t have to worry about burning his tongue when he took the first sip. “Thank you, darling.”

Her hand came to his cheek, making him lean into her touch as she pressed a kiss to his temple that was free of blood. His bottom lip was bruised with a small abrasion, so she refrained from kissing his mouth and instead left one on the corner. Laughing when he tried to catch her lips, but she pulled away causing him to groan.

“Wait here and drink your tea while I go run you a bath,” she squeezed his knee as she started to stand.

“Wait, no, no, no, baby--I don’t need a bath.” His hand snatched hers before she could walk away. Y/n let him hold her in place, but her brow raised with a knowing look. Johnny gave her his best puppy dog eyes, “The shower is perfectly fine and you have training in the morning. You go back to bed--I’ll be fine.”

Y/n scoffed lightly, “Bold of you to assume I’m not taking the day off, Johnny Storm. You just got back and I’m not letting you out of my sight for at least three days.” His face flushed red, causing a smirk to appear on her. “Plus, as if I need training. You and I both know it’s really for my sparring partners. Not me.”

“Which is why--,” he pulled her forward, letting his chin rest on her stomach as he tilted his head up. Sighing when her hands cupped his cheeks. “They are counting on you. You’re the best person for the job, Widow.”

“I’m off the clock,” Y/n smirked at the name, fingers going up to his hair to smooth it out. “That name only works on me when I’m on. Now stop trying to switch the subject.” She scolded, stepping away despite his refusal. “You’re going to drink this tea, get out of this suit and have a nice hot bath. Then you’re going to bed and sleep the rest of the day. Got it?” She left no room for argument, and Johnny wasn’t going to attempt, nodding with a tired yawn.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” she leaned down to kiss his temple one last time. “Don’t move till I tell you to.” The response she got was a lazy two finger salute, and Y/n retreated to their bathroom. As the water filled the tub, she went to Johnny’s drawers to remove a t-shirt, sweatpants, and boxers, placing the clothes on the countertop before grabbing a packet of Epsom salt, bottle of bubble bath, lavender oil, a fluffy towel, a face towel and some candles from the cabinet. She also made sure to grab the first aid kit hidden beneath the sink.

She poured the bubble bath liquid once the water reached about ⅓ of the tub. Then lit the candles and placed them on the stained-glass windowsill. Shutting the water off when it got just below the brim of the tub, Y/n poured a cup of the Epsom salt and let it sit for a minute before returning to the living room.

“Alright, pretty boy, let’s get you cleaned up.” The smile on Johnny’s face was enough to light up a galaxy. If someone would’ve told him when he first gained powers rivaling the sun that his heart would be captured by a woman with deadly skills like the spider she’s named after, he’d say they had lost their mind. But the universe had a funny way of proving him wrong.

Carrying the brute of his weight, Y/n’s left arm went over his shoulders while the other wrapped over the front of his waist. Encouraging him to lean on her as she helped him off the chair and to the bathroom, “Baby, we’ve been over this before, you’re not going to hurt me,” she grumbled when he tried to keep himself steady.

Eventually they made it to the bathroom, perching Johnny on the edge of the tub where Y/n unzipped his suit and got it down to his torso before turning to allow him some privacy while he removed the rest and eased into the water.

“All good?” she asked, opening the first aid kit to retrieve bandages and alcohol pads.

“Yeah,” he moaned, welcoming the hot water as it hugged him. Instantly soothing the strained muscles that were already relaxing. Yeah the shower would’ve been a bad idea. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do for putting you down when you were already,” Y/n’s tone was apologetic, and Johnny gave her a look. Silently telling her to stop being sorry for the incident ten minutes prior. Y/n dismissed his look, bringing the wipes and bandages over as she took a seat on the stool beside the tub. “Also, how many times have you done this for me?” Now it was Johnny’s turn to smirk.

“A few, give or take.” More like a dozen. Y/n’s returned back from missions covered in blood and bruises so much that Johnny’s already got the bath set when her jet lands.

“Exactly,” she says with a hum, bringing his face toward with one hand while the other gathers water on the face cloth. “Now let me take care of you.”

For the next 40 minutes, Johnny soaked in the bath as Y/n wiped the blood off him and tended to his wounds. She washed his hair while he relayed the details of the mission. Telling her how he came to be all battered and bruised thanks to an explosion he didn’t anticipate, too close to the line of fire. With the lavender oil Y/n massaged his shoulders and back, paying careful attention to the bruising so as to not hurt him any further.

When she was all done, Y/n pressed soft kisses all over his face. The contours of his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, the space between his brows. His temple, his jaw, the corner of his lips. By the end of it Johnny was begging for her mouth on his. He craved it. Going as far as to murmur, “Please, baby,” when she pecked his chin. Eventually Y/n caved in. Meeting his plush lips for a shot, but sweet, tender kiss. There was a bit of pain on Johnny’s end due to the cut, but he didn’t care. He needed this.

The water remained warm due to his elevated body temperature, but once satisfied Johnny got out of the tub and dressed while Y/n put everything back in its place. The two then left the bathroom, Y/n flicking the lights off on their way out and led Johnny to the bed. “Oh,” he moaned just like the bath, relishing the feeling of the plush mattress gave him. It felt like laying on a cloud. “That’s so nice.”

Y/n laughed, urging him further into the bed so she could pull the comforter over his torso. Practically tucking him in before moving around to her side, joining him under the covers. Instantly Johnny pushes himself onto his side to curl up against Y/n, who laid on her back and welcomed him with opened arms. As he tucked his face in the area by her shoulder and neck, one hand went to her stomach to sneak his hand beneath her tank top and rest it on her waist.

“You know tonight reminded me of the first time we met.” He spoke after a minute, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of her fingers move to card through his blonde hair. The action made him shudder, pressing himself further into her side.

Her chuckle made his body move slightly, a teasing tone in her reply, “You mean when I tried to kill you?” He could hear the smile in her voice, and it caused his own to appear.

Johnny remembered it like it was yesterday. He and the Fantastic Four were on a mission to locate a highly dangerous radioactive substance that could level an entire country. Recovering it was crucial God forbid it landed in the wrong hands. So they should’ve expected they weren’t the only ones after it.

Something they found out the hard way.

During the extraction, Johnny found himself face to face with the barrel of the gun in the hands of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Dressed in a black tactical suit with too many weapons for him to count and a stare enough to send him to the grave. Johnny felt a bunch of emotions at once. From fear at having a gun on him, to confusion at the red hourglass on her belt.

The encounter ended with Johnny getting a taste of what he would come to know as the widow’s bite. An electroshock weapon via gauntlets on her arms. Strong enough to put Johnny on his ass allowing her to escape with the package. The next day during the Four’s debrief, they discovered her identity.

Her name was Y/n L/n. A highly trained and enhanced assassin of the now disbanded and classified program, the Red Room. Called the Black Widow, Y/n was an expert marksman, master of weaponry, professional in hand-to-hand combat and possessed equipment the Fantastic Four had never seen. The files indicated she’d been a key part in the dismantling of several European governments and linked to a dozen political assassinations. The records alone were enough to make their skin crawl. And frankly the Four were confused as it was common knowledge that when the Red Room disbanded, they killed all the Black Widows under their command to prevent their secrets from getting out.

Turns out, they missed one. Who happened to be their best asset ever produced.

Why was she after a radioactive substance? They didn’t know. But whatever it was they needed to find out fast and locate her before whoever she was working for got it.

Their answer took weeks to uncover. And when they did the events following resulted in Y/n turning on the man she initially stole the package for and aligning with the Fantastic Four to bring him down. Initially they were suspicious, naturally so. Y/n was a spy, breaded and forged to become the best Black Widow the Red Room had ever produced. She was formidable, highly intelligent. A weapon in her own right.

But she was their best chance at beating the guy. She knew his weaknesses. Knew his plans. It was an unlikely alliance, but the odds were against them.

That was years ago. Now after saving the world too many times to count and nearly losing their lives, the assassin turned agent laid in Johnny’s bed in their shared apartment of Baxter’s Building. Holding him in her arms with a softness that took his breath away. The complete opposite of the threatening aura she possessed in the field.

“I love you, Y/n,” He breathed into the night as sleep overtook him. Succumbing to the exhaustion as his heart fluttered at the feeling of her lips attached one last time to his forehead.

“And I love you, my darling Johnny Storm.”

#johnny storm x reader #johnny storm x you #johnny storm imagine #mcu johnny storm #johnny storm fluff #johnny storm x female!reader #black widow!reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #mcu imagine #mcu fluff #fantastic four imagine #fantastic four fanfiction #fantastic four fanfic #joseph quinn imagine

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sugarysc · 27 days ago

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waiting for the Joseph Quinn Johnny storm fics already 😭

#joseph quinn #johnny storm #marvel #fantastic four #marvel fantastic four #marvel fanfic #johnny storm x reader

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missyorkswhore · 7 months ago

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I need him to TEACH me how to fuck 😔

#fantastic four #mr fantastic #pedrohub #pedro pascal #pedropascaledit #pascalispunk #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro x reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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etherealeowyn · 20 days ago

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Can't Take My Eyes off You - Johnny Storm x Reader

Word Count: 2,418

I really liked how this story came out, and I'm contemplating writing a second part for this piece! Let me know if you want part 2!

Johnny dialed Y/n’s number on the rotary phone, and held it up to his ear, taking a deep breath as he tried to calm himself to ask the woman out.

He had only talked to her briefly earlier in the day, but he could tell that this girl was special, so much so that he wasn’t about to leave the café where she worked without getting her number.

He stared at the small, lined piece of paper in his hand, adorned with her nice handwriting, hoping she had given him her real number instead of a fake one.

“Hello?” a voice asked on the other line, and Johnny couldn’t stop a smile from forming when he recognized her voice.

“Hi, this is Johnny, the guy from the café earlier,” he spoke, his voice slightly shaky from nerves.

“Yes, I remember you,” Y/n spoke with a little laugh, finding his nervousness cute.

“Haha I’m glad, I got tickets to see Frankie Valli tomorrow, and I was wondering if you’d like to go with me. I understand if you can’t, but I have a feeling I’d enjoy myself a lot more if you were there with me,” he responded, letting a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth.

“In that case, I would love to go with you,” she replied, and it was obvious she was smiling just by hearing the tone of her voice.

“Perfect, just give me your address and I’ll pick you up at 6,” he excitedly said, writing down her address on the other side of the paper he held.

The two exchanged information before he placed the phone down and hung up, letting out a deep sigh of relief knowing that everything went exactly how he wanted it to. He fell back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, letting his mind run rampant with thoughts about tomorrow, and how pretty he knew Y/n would look.

Y/n on the other hand, wasn’t as relaxed, she frantically ran over to her closet and began pulling out a series of different dresses, in an attempt to find one she believed would look the best. She’d slip one on and then immediately tear it off after she deemed it wasn’t the best option.

That was until she pulled on a pastel yellow chiffon dress that was fitted around her torso and flared below her waist. It was poofy, but not too much, and it fell to just about knee length. It was elegant, but at the same time, it was playful. She deemed it to be perfect.

She hung it up in her room and pulled out a pair of heels that matched perfectly, and in her opinion made her legs look stunning.

The second she picked everything out, she happily jumped up and down, unable to contain her excitement for tomorrow.

It took her forever to fall asleep that night, and it felt like an eternity waiting for the morning to arrive. But she managed to get a little sleep, just enough to make sure she had enough energy for the day ahead of her.

Johnny began to get ready, slipping on a pair of grey dress pants and tucking in his white button-up shirt. He grabbed a tie from inside his dresser drawer, and wrapped it around his neck, leaning closer to the mirror as he adjusted it. His tongue partially stuck out of his mouth in concentration, and his body had become tense, yet all that stress drained from his body when he managed to get everything to look right.

He looked down at his silver watch and saw that it was about 5:15, so he grabbed his keys and began to walk to where his car was parked. Johnny turned the key into the driver’s side door and opened it before jumping in and adjusting the radio.

He left a little bit early so he could stop at the flower shop to pick her up something because he wanted to do everything in his power to make sure Y/n would enjoy this date. To be completely and utterly honest, he was overwhelmed when he saw the variety of bouquets that lined the store, but he ended up getting a mixture of yellow, orange, and pink roses.

Setting them gently on the passenger seat, he looked at the address written on the lined piece of paper and headed to her house.

The house was well-kept, and Johnny could tell there was a sort of warmth radiating from it. It seemed like one of those houses where good memories were made, and it made him hope one day that he could have something like that for himself.

Walking up the pathway, he held the flowers and adjusted his tie one more time before he rang the doorbell. His throat tightened from nerves as he waited for someone to answer the door, and every second that went by felt like an eternity.

He composed himself one final time when he heard the door unlock, and he couldn’t help but smile when Y/n appeared in front of him. Johnny stood there for a moment in awe of the woman standing in front of him, because her dress clung to her body perfectly, and he loved the way that her hair was down, yet it curled up at the ends.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” Johnny started, “I got you these, I wasn’t sure what your favorite flower was, but I tried to pick out something that was pretty like you.”

He couldn’t stop a rosy blush from appearing on his face when he handed her the flowers. Y/n eagerly took them, and pulled them towards her nose, closing her eyes as she inhaled the fresh scent.

“Thank you, I love roses,” Y/n excitedly responded, looking up at him gleaming.

“You can come in for a second while I put these in water,” she continued, motioning for him to enter with her free hand.

Johnny stepped inside, as Y/n closed the door behind, and immediately he could smell the sweet aroma of baked goods fresh out of the oven. She didn’t take a very long time to put the flowers in a vase, but as he waited, his eyes followed her every move.

He watched as her delicate, manicured hands gently unwrapped the flowers and placed them in the crystal glass. Y/n smiled as she carefully arranged the roses to make sure that they were all situated properly, and Johnny felt like his heart was going to burst right there on the spot.

He hardly knew the woman, yet he was already so undoubtedly infatuated with her that he wasn’t sure what he would do if she didn’t like him.

“Johnny, they look absolutely gorgeous, thank you so much,” Y/n told him, as she set the vase on the counter in front of him, so he could admire the purchase he made.

“Of course, you ready to go?” Johnny asked, holding out his hand for her to take/

She grabbed it before replying, “Definitely, I’m so excited,” and letting her lead her to his car.

Y/n couldn’t help but find his car to be stunning, she loved the baby-blue color of it, plus it was obvious that he kept incredibly good care of it. She watched in admiration as his hand pulled open the passenger side door, and he sweetly smiled at her, waiting until she was inside and situated before closing it for her. He walked around to the other side of the car and hopped in, before starting the ignition and pulling out into the street.

The entire way there, the pair didn’t shut up, it didn’t matter what the topic of conversation was. It was especially nice because both felt more comfortable in the presence of each other by the time Johnny pulled up to the venue.

Y/n could see people waiting outside, but there wasn’t a super long line, which was surprising to her because Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons were pretty big at the time. Their music was playing on the radio practically all the time.

Johnny got out of the car and handed his keys to the valet, before letting Y/n out of the car and taking her straight to the door of the venue, instead of waiting in the line.

“Hey Johnny, have a nice night,” security spoke, as he pulled back the velvet rope blocking the entrance.

Once they got far enough away inside, Y/n questioned, “How’d you know that guy?” surprised by their quick entry.

She noticed that people were staring at them as they walked by, but she just figured it was because they cut the line, now that she thought about it, it was odd because no one looked angry. Rather, they looked more shocked than anything.

“Well, you see, I kind of have an important job,” Johnny responded, rubbing the back of his neck with one of his free hands, he was nervous to tell her about his powers, but at the same time, it was refreshing that she didn’t know who he was. Mostly because it prevented her from having any preconceived notions about him.

“Oh yeah? What do you do?” Y/n asked sweetly, holding onto his arm and turning her head to look at him.

“Uh, I’m part of the Fantastic Four, I have these… powers,” he said, and he expected her to have a drastic, expressive reaction, but she didn’t. However, that didn’t stop his heart from frantically pounding in his chest.

“Why do you look so ashamed, that sounds incredible,” she replied slightly furrowing her brows, as her eyes lit up in some sort of astonishment.

“I guess I thought you’d think I’m some kind of weirdo or freak,” He scoffed, staring down at the ground in front of him.

“I certainly don’t think you’re a freak, and who cares if you’re a weirdo, I consider myself one,” Y/n laughed, “And to be completely honest, it sounds like you’re a hero, which I deeply admire. I could tell you have a good heart.”

Johnny was mildly taken aback by her comment, mostly because he didn’t ever truly think he was a hero. Yes, he did heroic things, but he was much too humble to call himself a hero. But the way the words rolled off her tongue, and the admiration behind her gaze made him feel good. People had told him he was special before, yet the genuine nature of Y/n’s words made him believe it.

His face felt hot as a blush overtook his features, and for a second, he was speechless. The only thing he managed to do at that moment was smile, as he hastily scrambled to come up with a sentence.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this flustered before,” Johnny replied, letting out a breathy laugh, “I’m not used to getting complimented so sincerely, especially by a woman as beautiful as you.”

“Aww thank you, if it makes you feel any better, you look incredibly cute when you’re all flustered,” she giggled, grabbing a drink for him and herself off the tray of one of the bartenders walking around.

He took a sip from his glass before responding, “I’m glad you think so, if I was any redder, I think I’d turn into a tomato.”

“Don’t worry, you’re far from looking like a tomato, to be completely honest, I’m kind of jealous because when you blush it makes the color of your eyes pop,” she joked, though she wasn’t lying one bit, his eyes did look extremely blue.

Their conversation was cut short though when the lights dimmed, and a man walked on stage announcing that the concert was about to begin.

“Would you rather sit down at one of the tables, or go dance?” Johnny whispered, leaning in close to the woman’s ear. He was content regardless of what her answer was because honestly, he just wanted to be close to her.

“I’d love to dance with you,” Y/n responded, looking at the man with a smirk on her face.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he spoke, holding her hand and walking her over to the dance floor where couples were already beginning to congregate.

Johnny’s hands softly held onto her hips, as Y/n’s arms draped around his neck. The two swayed with one another as the band began to play a slowed-down version of Can’t Take My Eyes off You.

You're just too good to be true Can't take my eyes off of you

Y/n’s head was tilted up slightly, just enough so that the two could maintain eye contact. Though they didn’t say a word, it was clear that both were enjoying themselves, just by the way their eyes were gleaming.

You'd be like Heaven to touch I wanna hold you so much

“I know this might be forward, but can I kiss you?” Johnny asked, studying the woman’s face for an answer before she even said anything.

“Absolutely,” she responded, her eyes that were once staring into his, now lowering until they were fixated on his lips before fluttering upwards once again.

He removed one of his hands from the woman’s waist and used it to cup the side of her cheek, leaning towards her until his lips connected with hers. The kiss was urgent, yet at the same time tender, and within a couple of seconds, Y/n stepped closer to the man limiting the space between them.

At long last love has arrived And I thank God I'm alive

When their lips disconnected, they pulled away slowly, letting their eyes slowly flutter open. Seemingly still lost in the trance of the kiss they shared.

Johnny’s hand lowered back down to her waist, and he pulled Y/n closer to her body until it was pressed up against his. Her head found comfort lying against his chest, listening to his heartbeat almost in time with the music. He pressed a kiss on the top of her head, before smiling to himself as he looked down at the woman in his arms.

He hadn’t been this happy in a long time, and he was savoring every second of the feeling. Johnny didn’t say a single word because he was afraid that he would ruin the moment, so instead, he simply held her tighter and desperately hoped this was going to be the start of a new chapter in his life.

You're just too good to be true Can't take my eyes off you

#johnny storm #johnny storm x reader #the fantastic four #the fantastic four x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagines #fantastic four imagines #johnny storm imagine #johnny storm fanfic #joseph quinn fanfic #marvel fanfic

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jazzy96scorpio · 28 days ago

Text

His Forbidden Equation

Chapter 1 A Cosmic Chemistry

Description: A scorching affair ignites between a professor Reed Richards and his student [You], pushing the boundaries of propriety and exploring the intoxicating chemistry of forbidden passion.

Pairing: You / Reed Richards (student/professor)

Warnings ⚠️ : adult content, SMUT, dirty talk, oral sex (m/f rec), unprotected sex, lot of sex, slow burn, so much teasing and tension, cheating (Mr Richards is married), fluff and angst

Word count: 6 700

I hope so you are gonna enjoy in reading. ❣️

Part 1 * Scientific Seduction

The lab hummed, that low, constant thrum that vibrated through your shoes and up into your bones. It was the soundtrack to cutting-edge science, the kind of background noise you got used to. Senior year, you were practically buzzing with nervous excitement, tagging along with a bunch of other students on a visit to the astrophysics lab at ESU. Astronaut.

The word hung in your mind, a distant, glittering star you were reaching for with everything you had. And this lab, with all its crazy equipment and the thick air of brainpower, felt like one tiny step closer. Especially since he was here.

Reed Richards. Seriously. The Reed Richards. You knew all about his… extracurriculars, his whole Fantastic Four thing. But here, in the halls of ESU, he was Professor Richards, just a ridiculously brilliant guy trying to figure out the universe.

He was talking about stellar evolution, his voice kind of dreamy and intense. He pointed at this swirling, pulsing holographic image of a star collapsing, all vibrant colors. You were totally mesmerized. So much so, you almost missed him looking over at…you.

It wasn't a big, dramatic stare or anything. Just a quick glance, his eyes, usually miles away, locking onto yours for a second. But something weird happened in that second. Like a little spark. Maybe it was how focused you were, practically glued to the hologram, or maybe it was just random. Whatever it was, he stopped talking, kind of furrowed his brow like he was trying to solve some crazy equation.

"You got a question?" he asked, looking right at you.

Your heart did this weird little jump.

All the other students turned to look, and suddenly you felt super self-conscious, like, you were going to ask Reed Richards a question?

You mumbled, "I...I was just thinking about the Chandrasekhar limit..."

He smiled, a real, genuine smile that made crinkles around his eyes, and for a second, he just looked like a regular guy, not a scientific legend. "Good question. Most students are still trying to get the basics down. What about it grabs you?"

And just like that, you were talking. He didn't talk down to you, even though you were just a student, a tiny speck in his universe of knowledge. He actually listened to your questions, like they mattered, and you guys got into this whole thing about theoretical possibilities, even some of his own, more… out there ideas.

He saw how into it you were, that burning need to understand everything, to touch the stars. And in that moment, with the lab humming and the holographic stars glowing, your worlds bumped into each other.

As the other students filed out, a little disappointed the session was over, Professor Richards turned to you.

"Would you mind staying for a moment?" he asked.

"I'd like to talk more about some of the things you brought up."

You were beyond flattered. He wanted to talk to you? It felt like the universe was tilting on its axis.

He saw something in you, something beyond just another student, and the thought made your heart flutter.

"My name is [Y/N]," you managed, a little breathless.

"It's a pleasure, [Y/N]," he replied, his eyes meeting yours.

The lab emptied, the heavy door clicking shut behind the last of the departing students, leaving just the two of you surrounded by the silent machinery.

You felt like a kid in a candy store, all wide-eyed and buzzing with curiosity. And he seemed genuinely happy to answer every single one of your questions, no matter how small. He really listened, his brow furrowed as he considered your thoughts.

"You have a remarkable grasp of these concepts for someone your age," he said, a genuine note of admiration in his voice. "Your insights are…refreshing."

You felt your cheeks flush.

"Thank you," you murmured.

He genuinely seemed to enjoy your company, his initial reserve melting away as your shared passion for the cosmos took over. You mentioned you were working on your graduation essay, and his eyes lit up. "What's your topic?" he asked.

When you told him, he offered to help, suggesting some further reading and offering to guide you through some of the more complex theories.

"It would be my pleasure," he said, that warm smile of his making you feel like you were the only person in the universe.

There was something in the air, a little shift in the vibe. A definite tension, a little spark of… something...that you were feeling too. His gaze kept drifting over to you, lingering a little too long. He seemed kind of fascinated by something – maybe your dress, or the bright red lipstick you’d gone for that day. His eyes, usually so focused on faraway galaxies, had this intensity that made you a little breathless. You could feel his breath hitch as he moved closer, a subtle change in the air pressure that gave you goosebumps.

But just as things were getting interesting, the lab door swung open. "Reed?" a voice called out.

It was Sue Richards. You knew her instantly. You gave a polite smile and a hello, and she smiled back, her eyes briefly checking you out. A quick, almost invisible flicker crossed her face before she turned to her husband.

"Honey, I just wanted to..." she started, then paused, her eyes flicking back to you.

You introduced yourself.

"Nice to meet you," she said, her voice polite but cool.

"You too," you replied.

You grabbed your stuff, feeling a weird mix of disappointment and relief. As you headed for the door, you couldn't help but notice Reed watching you go.

You gave a small, polite goodbye, and then you were out of there, the hum of the lab fading behind you.

That day was seared into your memory. You couldn't shake the way he looked at you, the heat radiating from his smile.

You'd managed to snag his number – a little strategic searching into his department – and finally worked up the nerve to call. He answered, his voice a little rough, and said he was "very much looking forward" to seeing you in class on Friday. The way he said it… a shiver ran down your spine.

❤️‍🔥

Friday arrived, and you practically floated to the lab. He greeted you with that familiar warm smile, his eyes lingering a little too long. A couple of other students were there, but they left after you arrived, leaving you two alone. He was incredibly kind, almost…chatty. He asked about your essay, and you two launched into this intense discussion about the universe, dark matter, the expansion of space, the whole shebang. His passion was contagious.

You were hanging on his every word, but honestly, you could barely focus on the science. Your mind was a mess. He was so damn handsome, and a fire was starting to build inside you. You couldn't help but notice his gaze drifting downwards, just for a millisecond, under the table on your legs probably.

He’d lean in closer, asking, “Are you paying attention?” You’d nod, repeating his last sentence perfectly, your voice a little husky.

At one point, he walked over to a green board covered in equations and diagrams.

"You know," he said, picking up a chalk, "there's this theory about spacetime being like a fabric, and massive objects create these…warps, like a bowling ball on a trampoline. And those warps, those are what we experience as gravity."

He drew a quick sketch, a kind of dented grid with a sphere in the middle. "It's still just a theory, of course, but… fascinating, isn't it?"

You nodded, pretending to follow along, but your mind was elsewhere. His proximity, the way his voice resonated when he talked about the things he loved, it was intoxicating.

Then, the game began. You pulled out your notebook. “Could you just take a quick look at something?” you asked, all innocence.

He moved to stand beside you, leaning down so close you could feel his breath on your neck. His hand brushed against yours as he pointed at something in your notes. His eyes flicked down, just for a heartbeat, to your chest, before landing on your lips. You knew he was fighting it, this undeniable pull.

You were playing with fire. And you knew your perfume, your whole vibe, was driving him absolutely wild. But you weren't done yet.

You stood up, leaned in close, whispering something absolutely filthy in his ear.

"I've been thinking about you all week, Professor," you breathed, your voice low and husky. "And all the things I want to do to you… they're definitely not in the textbook."

You felt him stiffen, his breath catching in his throat.

Then, you leaned in and kissed his neck, right at the collar of his shirt, leaving a bright red lipstick mark. He froze, completely still. You looked at him, a small, satisfied smile playing on your lips.

"Thank you for the lesson, Professor," you said, your voice dripping with playful menace. "See you next Friday."

And then you left.

He stood there, totally speechless, probably with a raging hard-on. He had no clue what just hit him, but he definitely, definitely wanted more.

🥵👅

The following Friday felt like an eternity. You replayed the previous week's encounter in your head countless times, the memory of Reed's stunned expression fueling a thrill of anticipation. You knew you were playing a dangerous game, toying with a man who was both brilliant and, you suspected, deeply intrigued by the forbidden.

You arrived at the lab a few minutes early, giving yourself time to compose yourself. He was already there, standing by the green board.

He looked up as you entered, his eyes meeting yours. The air crackled with an almost palpable energy. He didn't smile, not immediately. That little lipstick mark on his collar last week? Pure genius. You knew you had him hooked.

"You're early," he said, his voice a low rumble..

"I was eager to continue our…discussion," you replied, your gaze locking with his.

He nodded slowly. "Indeed. I've been giving your… theories… considerable thought."

The other students trickled in, and the lesson officially started, but the tension between you and Reed was electric. He kept making these little asides, disguised as explanations, but you knew they were just for you. Like when he was talking about gravitational lensing and said, "Imagine light bending around an object… kind of like how your presence bends my… attention." Smooth, Professor, real smooth. you thought.

After the other students had left, Reed turned to you, a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. "I believe," he said, his voice low, "we have some unfinished business."

You stepped closer, the space between you shrinking until you could feel the heat radiating from his body.

"Indeed, Professor," you whispered, your hand reaching out to trace the line of his jaw. "We do."

He inhaled sharply, his breath catching in his throat. He reached for you, his fingers brushing against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "You're playing a dangerous game, [Y/N]," he murmured, his voice husky.

"I'm not afraid of danger," you replied, your eyes meeting his.

"Especially when the reward is so… tempting."

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a thrill through you. "And what reward do you have in mind?" he asked, his eyes burning into yours.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. "That, Professor," you whispered, "is something you'll have to discover for yourself."

His hand tightened on your arm, pulling you closer. "I have a feeling," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "that I'm going to enjoy this discovery very much."

He closed the remaining distance between you, his hands cupping your face.

"I think," you replied, your voice barely a whisper, "You're about to find out." And then you kissed him.

It wasn't a shy, tentative kiss. It was a full-on, electric kiss, all that pent-up tension finally finding release.

He groaned into the kiss, his hands tangling in your hair.

"About reward," he muttered against your lips.

"Yes, Professor?" you said, pulling back slightly. "Do you want it?"

He was a little unsure.

"I…I'm married, I can't" he said, a flicker of guilt crossing his face.

"You're not going to cheat if you don't put your dick inside me," you purred, a playful glint in your eyes. "Besides, isn't scientific discovery all about pushing boundaries? Exploring uncharted territories? Consider this…fieldwork."

You winked, the image of his long fingers tracing the curve of your hip flashing through your mind.

"Purely for research purposes, of course."

He couldn't endure more. He took your hand, his grip firm, and led you into a small room tucked away in the lab. The door clicked shut behind you.

He turned, his eyes burning with a hunger that mirrored your own. He kissed you, then, a deep, passionate kiss that stole your breath and set your pulse racing.

You kneeled down, your fingers deftly unbuckling his belt. He was so impatient, a low groan rumbling in his chest.

"Do you want this, Professor?" you asked, your voice husky with desire.

"Yes," he breathed, his voice thick with longing. "God, yes. I want you so badly. I've been…obsessed."

You pulled down his boxers, revealing a thick, hard length that throbbed with anticipation. His cock was magnificent, a dark, veiny masterpiece. You cupped him in your hand, marveling at his size and heat.

You kissed the tip, then licked and swirled your tongue around, teasing him. He groaned, his hands gripping your hair, his hips thrusting involuntarily. He was so close. He whispered your name, a desperate plea.

Then, you took him deeper, harder, your mouth engulfing him completely. You gagged slightly on his impressive length, your saliva slicking his skin. You continued your movements, your mouth working magic as your hand stroked him rhythmically. He gasped, his breath ragged. "Don't stop," he begged, "I'm… I'm gonna…"

You opened your mouth, your tongue darting out to tease his swollen head. With your right hand, you gripped him firmly and jerked off, just as he came in a rush of hot, thick cum that coated your tongue and lips. His release was explosive. He watched, his eyes glazed, as you swallowed him down, your mouth glistening..

"Damn," he breathed, his voice thick with lust. "You're incredible."

"I aim to please, Professor," you replied, a sly smile playing on your lips. "Though I must admit, your…cock… is quite remarkable."

He handed you a tissue, his eyes still half-closed. You cleaned yourself, then he pulled you close and kissed you again, a slow, lingering kiss that tasted of him.

"You taste… delicious," he murmured against your lips.

"So do you," you whispered back, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

But he didn't want to stop, he wants to feel you.

He pulled up your dress, his hand slipping beneath the fabric and into your panties. He gently eased them down to your knees, his fingers brushing against your swollen clit. You were soaked, slick with anticipation. He lifted you onto a nearby lab table, your legs dangling. He knelt between them and licked you, his tongue tracing every curve and fold, exploring every inch of your swollen pussy.

He lapped at you, his tongue a hot, insistent flame, sending shivers of pleasure through you.

"You're so wet for me," he groaned, his breath hot against your core. He teased your clit with his tongue, circling it slowly, building the pressure until you were whimpering with need.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered, his voice a low growl.

"Keep doing that," you moaned, your hips lifting to meet his tongue. "I want you to taste me, every inch of me."

He slipped two fingers inside you.

You moaned saying "Yes…yes… more…"

Then he slipped three fingers, his strokes slow and deliberate, and with his thumb rubbed your clit driving you wild.

You came, hard and fast, your body convulsing as you reached a shattering orgasm. "Oh, fuck!" you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice rough with passion. He leaned in and kissed you, a kiss that was both passionate and tender, laced with the raw hunger that still pulsed between you. "You have no idea," he whispered against your lips, "how long I've been wanting to do that. You're going to drive me absolutely insane."

"That's the general idea, Professor," you purred, a wicked glint in your eyes.

"Consider it… a continuing education."

After you left the small room, a little breathless and flushed, you started gathering your things, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips.

Just then, the lab door swung open and Sue Richards stood there again, her expression unreadable. Reed visibly stiffened, a flicker of something – was it guilt? – crossing his face.

He was definitely suspicious. And she was maybe a little… jealous? She notices the way he looked at you, a mixture of desire and something more, made her pulse quicken.

"Reed," Sue said, her voice cool and measured.

"I… I forgot my notebook. Have you seen it?"

"No, honey, I haven't," he replied, his voice a little too casual, a little too high-pitched. He avoided eye contact, focusing on some papers on the desk.

"Really?" she asked, her gaze flickering between you and him. "Because I could have sworn I left it in here."

The air crackled with tension. You could feel Sue's eyes on you, assessing, questioning. You met her gaze, offering a polite smile.

"Perhaps it's in your office, Sue," you suggested, your voice calm and professional. "I know I sometimes misplace things when I'm deep in thought."

"Maybe," she said, still looking at you. "Or maybe someone else moved it." Her tone was pointed.

Reed cleared his throat. "Honey, don't be ridiculous. [Y/N] and I were just discussing…stellar dynamics. Quite complex stuff." He put an arm around Sue, a little too tightly, you thought.

"Stellar dynamics?" Sue raised an eyebrow. "At this hour? And in this room?"

"Yes," Reed said quickly. "We needed a quiet space to… to work through some equations."

"Right," Sue said, her voice laced with skepticism. She looked at you again, her eyes narrowed.

"Well," you said, breaking the tense silence, "thank you for the enlightening lesson, Professor Richards. It was, as always, a pleasure." You gathered your things, maintaining a professional demeanor despite the stormy emotions swirling within you. "Good evening, Sue."

"Good evening," Sue replied, her voice cool.

As you walked out of the lab, you could feel their eyes on your back. You didn't turn around. You walked with your head held high, a secret smile playing on your lips.

That day, you felt… powerful. Intoxicating. Damn, that was fun. And you were definitely, definitely, not done with Reed Richards. Not by a long shot. That little taste of forbidden fruit? It just made you crave the whole damn orchard.

Reed's POV .

I lay in bed next to Sue, the silence between us thick and uncomfortable. She’d been quiet all evening, a storm brewing in her eyes. Finally, she turned to me, her voice low and dangerous

"What's going on with you and that… girl?" she asked, her gaze piercing.

I stiffened. "What girl?" I feigned innocence, even though my heart was hammering against my ribs.

"Don't play dumb, Reed," she snapped. "You know exactly who I'm talking about. [Y/N]. What is she doing with you so late at the lab? Why are you two so… close?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "She's a student, Sue. A very bright student. We've been discussing some advanced concepts. That's all."

"It doesn't look like 'all' to me," she retorted, her voice rising. "I saw the way she looked at you. And the way you looked at her."

I felt a flush creeping up my neck. Damn. I’d been so careful, or so I thought.

"There's nothing going on, Sue," I insisted, my voice tight. "She's just… enthusiastic. About science."

"Enthusiastic enough to be meeting with you alone in a closed room?" she challenged, her eyes flashing. "I don't like it, Reed. I don't like it one bit."

I reached for her hand, trying to soothe her. "Honey, you're being paranoid. There's nothing to worry about. She's just a student."

"I don't want her around you anymore," she said, her voice firm. "I'm serious, Reed. I'm jealous."

I sighed again. This was getting complicated. I couldn't deny the pull I felt towards [Y/N]. She was… intoxicating. But Sue was my wife. I loved her. I had to smooth things over.

"Okay, honey," I said, trying to sound reasonable. "If it bothers you that much, I won't give her any more extra lessons. Happy?"

She studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she nodded. "Yes," she said. "That would make me happy."

I fell asleep that night, but it was a restless sleep. My thoughts kept drifting back to [Y/N].

Her lips on mine, the way she’d looked at me, the taste of her… I woke up in the middle of the night, hard as a rock, my dreams filled with images of her. I groaned, frustrated and aroused.

The next day, I was at the college with the rest of the Fantastic Four, making an appearance. I spotted her across the room, talking to some other students. Just seeing her sent a jolt of electricity through me. I had to talk to her, just for a minute.

I managed to pull her aside, away from the crowd. We were alone in hallway.

"I… I can't give you any more lessons," I said, my voice tight. "My wife… she's not comfortable with it."

She just smiled, a knowing, almost predatory smile that sent shivers down my spine.

"Aw, is the big, bad Reed Richards afraid of his wife?" she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"It's not like that," I protested weakly.

"Sure it isn't, Professor," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your wife is a little jealous, I see."

I looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "Look, it's just… complicated."

"I understand," she said, her smile widening.

"If you don't want to see me anymore, that's fine."

I almost breathed a sigh of relief. Almost.

But then, she did something that made my blood run cold and hot at the same time. She reached under her skirt and pulled her panties down, tugging them inside my pants, right against my cock.

I gasped, my breath catching in my throat.

She leaned in and kissed me, a hard, possessive kiss that left me reeling. She licked my lips, a teasing flick of her tongue.

"Keep that as a gift, Professor," she whispered, her voice husky.

"A little reminder of what you're missing."

And then she was gone, leaving me standing there, shocked and breathless, my heart pounding in my chest. I could feel the soft fabric of her panties pressed against my cock, a burning reminder of her. I was going wild. I wanted her so badly it was a physical ache. I was going to lose my mind.

🎀

You leave the professor a little thrill buzzing through you. As you walk, you bump into Johnny Storm. He's cute, charming, and clearly interested. You chat for a bit, the conversation flowing easily, and he asks you out for drinks. You accept. It's not just that he's fun to be around; he's Sue's brother, and the thought of making Reed just a little bit jealous is definitely a bonus.

That week, you and Johnny get closer. You go out a few times, laughing and having a good time. You haven't seen Reed since your little "lesson," but you know he's thinking about you. You can feel it.

Then, Johnny invites you over to his place for dinner. You know Sue and Reed will be there, and honestly, you're kind of looking forward to it. Johnny had told them he was bringing a friend, but they definitely weren't expecting you.

The surprise on their faces when you walk in? Priceless. And Reed… oh, Reed. The jealousy radiating off him is palpable. .

You're wearing your best wiggle dress, the one that makes you feel like a million bucks, and you can practically see the heat in his eyes.

Dinner is… tense. Johnny is his usual charming self, totally clueless to the tension in the air.

He tells them how you met at college, how much he likes you. Reed is sitting across from you, his gaze intense, and you decide to have a little fun.

Casually, you slip off your shoe and start rubbing your foot against his leg, right over his crotch. You can feel him getting hard under the table. Sue has gone to the kitchen to get dessert, and Johnny popped off to the bathroom.

You're alone.

"What the hell are you doing?" he hisses, his voice low and strained.

"Missing you, Professor," you purr, your foot still moving against him. "You know you've been thinking about me too."

He's practically vibrating with need.

"Have you… have you been with Johnny?" he asks, his voice tight with jealousy.

"Not yet," you say, your eyes locking with his. "Maybe tonight."

His jaw clenches. "Don't," he growls. "Don't you dare let him touch you."

"Or what?" you challenge, your smile playful.

"I'll… I'll…" He trails off, his eyes burning with desire.

"You'll what, Professor?" you whisper, leaning closer. "Confess that you want me so badly you can't stand it?"

He doesn't say anything, but his eyes say it all. Soon after Johnny came back. You wanted to leave.

"I… I have to go," you say, standing up. "I'm not feeling well."

"I'll drive you," Johnny offers, concern etched on his face.

"No, it's okay," you say, giving him a sweet smile. "I'm just down the street." You turn to Reed, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "See you later, Professor."

You see the look in his eyes as you leave. Pure hunger. He's going wild.

Part 2 The Professor's Secret

You walk down the street, almost to the lab, when you hear his car pull up beside you. He jumps out, grabs your hand, and practically drags you inside. The lab is empty, the only light coming from the dim emergency lights. He slams the door shut behind you.

"You're driving me crazy," he says, his voice rough. "I can't… I can't stop thinking about you. I want you so badly."

He kissed you, a raw, desperate kiss, and then scooped you up, his arms strong and sure. With one hand, he cleared his desk, sending papers and equipment crashing to the floor. You grinned at him, a wicked glint in your eyes. "Someone's eager," you purred, your voice husky with desire.

You reached for his tie, pulling him closer. "Tell me what you want, Professor," you whispered, your breath hot against his lips. "I want to hear it."

"I want you," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Your sweet pussy…I need it so bad. I wanna fill you up with my cock."

He kissed you again, harder this time, his hands moving over your body, impatient. He ripped his shirt open, the buttons popping off, and then he helped you with your dress, his fingers fumbling with the zipper. Your bra followed, and then, with a sharp rip, your panties were gone.

"Naughty girl," he muttered, his eyes burning as he checked you out. "Gonna get punished."

You reached for his belt, your fingers working quickly to undo it. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, pulsing with need. You cupped him in your hand, teasing him with your thumb, circling the tip as he leaked a drop of precum. "Mmm, you're ready for me, aren't you, Professor?" you whispered, your voice laced with playful menace.

"Gonna spill all your secrets?"

You leaned against the desk, offering yourself to him. He gripped your waist with his large hands, pulling you close, his fingers digging into your flesh. He entered you hard, his thrusts deep and urgent. "Fuck," he groaned, his eyes rolling back. "You feel so good."

He squeezed your breasts, his lips closing over a nipple, sucking hard. "So fucking tight," he repeated, his voice thick with lust. He moved inside you, slower now, each thrust a delicious torture. He was so big inside you, filling you completely, stretching you so good. You were on fire. He was driving you wild.

"Oh, God," you moaned, your head thrown back. "Yes…fuck me, Reed. Harder."

He pulled back slightly. "Turn around," he commanded, his voice rough.

You obeyed, your back now to him. "You're a bad girl," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. He gave your ass cheek a light slap. "Teasing me like that."

He entered you from behind, his hands gripping your hips, pinning you against the desk. He was relentless, his thrusts deep and powerful. He was so close, you could feel him pulsing inside you. He rubbed your clit, sending shivers of pleasure through you. You were dripping, slick and ready. You tightened around him, and then you came, a shattering orgasm that made you scream his name. "Reed!" you cried out, your body convulsing. "Oh, fuck, yess!"

He pulled out, his cum spurting onto your ass. He groaned, his body going rigid for a moment before relaxing in your arms. He cleaned you up, his touch surprisingly gentle. Then, he kissed you, a tender kiss that spoke of something more than just lust.

"I…I care about you," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

"I care about you too," you replied, your heart swelling with emotion.

Then, he kissed you, a sweet kiss that meant more than just sex.

You got dressed, the memory of his touch still lingering on your skin. He drove you home. In car he touched your leg, his fingers tracing the curve of your calf.

"God, you are incredible," he breathed, his eyes full of passion. "I enjoyed every single second. I don't regret this, not one bit."

"Me neither," you whispered, your heart doing a little flip.

He kissed you one last time on your doorway, a lingering kiss that left you breathless. "We should keep this our little secret," he murmured.

"Agreed," you whispered, your lips still tingling from his kiss. "Our little secret." You knew this was just the beginning.

Chapter 2 Lies and Whispers

Part 1 * A Scent of Betrayal *

That night, Reed walked in the door, his gut twisting. He could still smell your perfume on him, that faint, flowery thing that just wouldn't quit. He was hoping Sue wouldn't notice,but yeah, right.

Sue was in the living room, arms crossed, looking like a thundercloud. "Where were you?" she asked, her voice chilly.

"Uh, lab," he mumbled, trying to act cool.

"Forgot my briefcase. Big presentation tomorrow, needed to, you know, do some last-minute stuff."

"At this hour?" she shot back, her eyes narrowed. "And you smell…different."

He squirmed a little. "Different? What are you talking about? I just…worked late."

"Don't lie to me, Reed," she said, her voice going up a notch. "I can smell her perfume on you. What happened?"

"Nothing happened," he insisted, his heart hammering."I told you, I was at the lab.That's all."

"Don't give me that crap," she snapped. "I know something's going on between you two. I've seen the way she looks at you."

"Sue, come on," he pleaded, his voice strained. "You're imagining things. She's just a student. And I'm not giving her lessons anymore."

"Then why do you smell like she does?" she demanded, her voice trembling.

He was cornered. Busted.

"I… I can't do this anymore, Reed," she said, tears welling up. "The stress… it's too much."

He reached for her, his own anxiety spiking. "Sue, what's wrong? What is it?"

"I'm pregnant," she whispered, barely getting the words out.

He froze. Pregnant? Whoa. He hadn't planned this. Not now. Not like this. But… a baby? A tiny part of him, a part he hadn't thought about until now, did a weird mix of flipping out and… yeah, kinda happy.

He looked at Sue, really looked at her, and saw the fear and…well, she looked really vulnerable. He knew, right then, what he had to do.

"Sue," he said softly, his voice suddenly warm. "That's… that's amazing. I… I'm happy. Really happy."

He leaned closer and gave her a gentle kiss, then pulled her into a tight hug. "I love you, Sue," he whispered. "I love you so much."

He held her close, his mind a mess. He knew he had to stop things with you. He just had to. For Sue, for the baby… for his own peace of mind.

But even as he held his wife, he couldn't stop thinking about what had happened an hour ago. Your touch, your taste, the way you’d moaned his name… it was stuck in his head. He was caught between two worlds, stuck between what he should do and what he really, really wanted. And he knew, deep down, this was gonna be a long, messy road.

🥵

The next day, you were at the presentation, surrounded by other students. You'd chosen your outfit carefully, a slinky black dress that made you feel like a femme fatale and a slash of red lipstick that screamed confidence. You knew Reed would be there, and you knew he wouldn't be able to take his eyes off you. He didn't disappoint. His gaze was glued to you, a mixture of longing and something darker, something more possessive, in his eyes.

After the presentation, as you were heading out, he grabbed your hand, pulling you into a small, empty room and closing the door behind you. He leaned in close, his breath hot on your ear.

"You're a naughty girl," he murmured, his voice rough. "Why are you doing this to me? Tempting me like this…making me want to sin again?"

"Maybe," you purred, meeting his gaze.

"Maybe I just want to take what I want."

He pulled back slightly, his expression conflicted. "We can't do this anymore," he said, his voice strained. "My wife…she's pregnant."

You nodded, feigning indifference. "Okay," you said, shrugging. "If you don't want me anymore, that's fine. I have other men waiting in line."

His eyes flashed with jealousy, the image of Johnny Storm undoubtedly flashing through his mind. He grabbed your hands, his grip tight.

"To hold you, to caress you… only my hands have the right to do that," he said, his voice low and intense.

"You can be mad at me, but just so you know: your lips? Mine. And I'll always come back to you. Because you're the best."

"See, I knew you wanted me," you replied, a sly smile playing on your lips.

"Wasn't so hard to say, was it, Professor?

"Now, about those hands of yours… I'm thinking they'd look amazing all over me, exploring every inch. And those lips… I'm gonna make them beg for more. You know it." You stepped closer, close enough to feel his body heat.

"And you… you're gonna give me exactly what I want, whenever I want it. Right?" Professor?"

"Yes," he breathed, his voice thick with lust. "Anything you want, darling. Anything at all."

He kissed you, a hard, quick kiss, and then you pulled back just enough to look at him.

"I know I have to share you," you said, your voice low and a little serious.

"I know I can't have all of you."

You paused, your eyes searching his.

"But will you be mine? Just mine, even when you're sleeping next to her?"

He hesitated for a second, you could see the wheels turning in his head.

Then, he nodded, his jaw tight. "Yes," he said, his voice rough.

"I'm yours. All yours. I swear to God, you're the only one I'm thinking about. You're the only one I want."

"Good," you whispered, a slow smile spreading across your face.

"Because I'm gonna own you, Professor. Body, heart and soul."

He grinned back, a little wicked. He lifted your dress, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of his jeans for a second before he just ripped the damn thing open. Your panties were next, torn away in his haste. His cock was already hard, throbbing, a thick, veiny thing that made you shiver. Damn, it was impressive.

He grabbed you, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. He pulled you onto him, impaling you with one strong thrust. You gasped, your pussy stretching to take him. He pinned you against the wall, his weight pressing you into the hard surface.

He fucked you hard, his movements fast and urgent. He kissed your neck, then bit down, leaving a dark, hickey-shaped mark.

"Mine," he growled against your skin.

"You're mine. Say it," he demanded, his breath hot against your ear.

"I'm yours, Professor, and you're mine," you breathed, your head thrown back.

"Oh God, yes, you're mine."

He kept saying your name, like he was branding you. "Fuck, [Y/N]," he groaned, his thrusts deepening. "You're so fucking good."

You came together, a hot, messy release that made you both shake. He pulled out, his breath ragged, and then slumped against the wall, pulling you with him.

He kissed you one more time, a lingering, possessive kiss. "I'm obsessed with you," he admitted, his voice rough with desire. "I can't get enough of you."

"I know, Professor," you purred, a knowing smile on your lips. "I'm like poison to you." You ran your fingers through his hair, your touch lingering. "And you fuck me so good…you're the best."

You whispered at his ear. "You know I'm going to make you pay for this, right? Every single delicious, forbidden moment."

You adjusted your dress, smoothing out the wrinkles, then kissed him again, a quick, playful peck. You added a smear of your red lipstick to his neck. "Consider it a reminder who owns you," you whispered.

You picked up your ripped panties from the floor, holding them out to him. "You owe me a new pair," you said, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

He smiled, his eyes full of warmth. "I will," he promised, his voice soft. "Anything for you."

You kissed him one last time, a deep, lingering kiss that left you breathless. Then, you turned and walked out of the room, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. You knew he was right behind you. You were happy. And, against all odds, you loved him.

He was in the toilet room, cleaning himself up and trying to subtly hide the mark on his neck, when Sue walked into the lab, calling his name. He quickly shoved your panties, which were still in his pocket, into the nearest trash can.

He left the toilet room, pasting a casual smile on his face. "Hey, honey," he greeted her, kissing her lightly on the cheek. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," she said, her voice a little strained.

"Just feeling a little...off." She clutched her stomach. "Morning sickness is kicking my butt."

"Poor thing," he said, his voice full of concern. He rubbed her back gently. "Let me help you. What do you need?"

She just needed to freshen up a little, she said. As she threw a tissue in the trash can, she saw something red and lacy sticking out. She pointed it on them, her eyes widening. They were your panties.

"What are these?" she asked, her voice dangerously quiet.

He froze, his blood running cold. "I… I don't know," he stammered, his mind racing.

"Maybe… maybe one of the students left them. They were here for the presentation, remember?" She looked at him, her eyes narrowed.

"Don't lie to me, Reed," she said, her voice trembling with anger. "Those aren't just any panties. They're probably hers."

He knew he was caught. "Look, Sue," he began, trying to sound reasonable. "It's… it's not what you think."

"Oh, really?" she interrupted, her voice rising. "Then what is it, Reed? Tell me. Because I'm waiting. And I'm not stupid."

"They're… they're not what you think," he mumbled, his mind racing.

"Someone must have… left them here. You know how it gets after a presentation, kinda messy. People leave stuff behind all the time." He gestured vaguely toward the trash can.

"Lost and found, lab edition."

Sue looked at him, her eyes still a little narrowed, but he saw a flicker of doubt. He was a good liar, thankfully. He could see her wavering.

He met her gaze, trying to look all innocent and slightly annoyed. "Honey, I swear, I have no clue how they ended up there. Maybe someone tossed them in by mistake? Or maybe one of the cleaning ladies got a little too enthusiastic with the tidying up." He paused, adding a little chuckle.

"Honestly, I'm so spacey these days, I'm surprised I haven't walked out of the house in my underwear."

Sue looked at him, her anger starting to fade. She wanted to believe him. The thought of him and another woman, especially now, was just too much. And his story, while a little flimsy, was kinda believable. Labs were a mess.

"Okay," she said finally, her voice quiet. "I…I believe you."

He let out a silent "phew." He pulled her into a tight hug, burying his face in her hair.

"I love you, Sue," he murmured, his voice sincere. "I love you so much. You gotta trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you, especially not now. We're gonna be parents, Sue. That's the most important thing to me. I wouldn't mess that up for anything."

She hugged him back, her worries easing a little. "I do trust you, Reed," she whispered. "It's just… I've been so stressed lately."

He held her close, his heart pounding. He was such a good liar. He almost believed his own bullshit. But holding Sue like this, thinking about the baby, something clicked. He'd almost been caught. He was playing a dangerous game, and he was gonna get burned. He couldn't keep lying to Sue, keep sneaking around with you. It was too risky, too messy. He knew right then and there, he had to stop. He had to end things with you, no matter how much it sucked. He had a wife, a kid on the way, and a life he couldn't lose. Game over.

🖤

You hadn't seen him for days. A weird mix of worry and, yeah, a little longing was bugging you. You knew he was thinking about you, though.

Then, one night, knock, knock. Your heart did a little flip. You knew who it was.

You opened the door, all casual cool.

"Well, hey there," you drawled, leaning on the doorframe. "Long time no see you, Professor."

He came in, looking around like he was nervous or something. He seemed…tight. Like he had a lot on his mind. "I…wanted to see you," he said, his voice kinda rough.

"Oh yeah?" you said, shutting the door behind him. "What's up? More late-night study sessions? Another mind-blowing lecture?"

He didn't crack a smile. "We need to talk," he said, and he sounded serious.

"Okay," you said, figuring he wanted to be all serious. You were almost naked, just your black lace bra and panties, covered by a silk robe. You saw his eyes on you, the way they lingered, the little muscle twitching in his jaw. He was fighting with himself, you could tell.

You leaned against the desk, taking a slow sip of your wine. "So, talk," you said, your voice steady.

He looked at you, his expression pained.

"I…I can't do this anymore," he said, his voice rough. "I have to stop. I have to leave."

"Leave?" you echoed, your heart sinking."Leave me?"

"Yes," he said, his voice firm, but you could see the conflict in his eyes.

"It's… it's not right. It's not fair to you. Or to Sue."

"So, you're leaving," you repeated, your voice flat. "Just like that? After everything…do you regret it? Do you regret the things we did, the things I'm never going to forget?"

His jaw tightened. "No," he said, his voice low.

"I don't regret it. But I can't…I can't keep hurting you. And I can't keep hurting Sue."

"So, you choose her," you said, your voice rising, a bitter edge creeping in. "You choose her over me."

Tears welled up in your eyes, hot and angry. You blinked them back, refusing to let him see you cry, but one tear escaped your eye.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush a stray tear from your cheek.

"Don't waste your tears on me," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Every tear is a sin… for me."

"You deserve better than this," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "You deserve someone who can give you everything you want, everything you deserve."

He turned and started to walk away. You wiped your tears away, your anger giving you strength.

"After you walk out that door, it's going to be too late," you called after him, your voice ringing with conviction. "Too late when you decide you want me again. If you leave me now, Reed… you're going to regret it. You're going to lose me. Forever."

He stopped, his back to you, his shoulders tense. Then, slowly, he turned around. You stood up straighter, letting your robe fall open. Then, your bra. And then, your panties, tossing them carelessly in his face.

"If you want to fuck me one last time, Professor," you said, your voice low and husky, "this is your chance. Last call." You let your gaze travel over his body, lingering on his bulge in his pants. "Don't say I didn't give you a fair warning."

You turned and walked into your bedroom, not bothering to see if he was following. You knew he would. He couldn't resist you.

He was right behind you, like a puppet on a string. He ripped his clothes off in a frenzy, his eyes never leaving your body. He kissed you roughly, a kiss full of need and desperation. He lifted you onto the bed, his hands roaming over your skin, exploring every curve and hollow. "God, you're beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I can't…I can't stay away from you."

He was lost in the moment, lost in the heat between you. He positioned himself, his cock throbbing against your entrance. He entered you slowly, taking his time, savoring every inch of you. It was like he wanted to make the moment last forever.

"You're gonna miss this pussy, Mr. Fantastic," you whispered, arching your back. "You know you will."

"Damn right I will," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips.

He moved faster now, kissing your lips, then your neck, then your breasts.

"I will miss you," he said, his voice thick with passion. "You're the only one who makes me feel like this. Like I'm alive."

He pulled back slightly, watching you.

Then, his eyes met yours, and you saw something there that made your breath catch. Tears. He was crying. He leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours.

"I… I love you," he choked out, the words raw and honest, tears streaming down his face.

You looked at him, your own emotions a whirlwind. "Don't," you whispered, your voice cracking. "Just… don't."

You reached up and pulled his face down to yours, kissing him fiercely. He moved faster now, his thrusts deeper, pressing his full weight against you, as if he wanted to merge with you, become one. He was desperate, clinging to you like a man drowning.

You both came quickly, a raw, explosive orgasm that left you breathless. He came inside you, his release hot and intense. "Fuck," he breathed, his body going rigid for a moment before collapsing on top of you.

He kissed you one last time, a deep, lingering kiss that tasted of regret and longing.

"I will always love you," he whispered, his voice thick with tears. "And I will never forget you."

He got dressed real fast, not even looking at you. Then, he just… left.

You stayed there, in bed, staring at the ceiling. His words kept playing in your head. The tears started coming, hot and heavy. Your heart hurt like hell, and you felt like a piece of you had just been ripped away. He was gone. And you knew, deep down, he wasn't coming back.

Part 2 * Torn Apart *

The next few days were a blur. Graduation came and went in a flurry of excitement and congratulations. You should have been happy, and in a way, you were. But a part of you, a big, gaping part, felt… missing. Like a limb you’d lost.

You weren't alone, though. Johnny was still around, a constant presence in your life. He was a good friend, and he definitely wanted more. You went on a few dates, dinners, movies, the whole shebang. But every time he tried to cross that line, to touch you in that way… you froze. You just couldn't.

Then, one night, after a few too many drinks at a local bar, Johnny invited you back to his place. You were a little tipsy, feeling reckless, and you said yes.

When you got to his house, the lights were on, and you could hear voices inside. Johnny shrugged. "Sue and Reed are probably still up," he said. "They're usually working late."

He opened the door, and there they were. Sue and Reed, in the living room, wrapped in a hug. They looked in love and happy.

A pang of anger and jealousy twisted in your gut.

"Hey guys," Johnny said cheerfully. "Didn't expect to see you still up."

"Hey," Sue replied, giving you both a polite smile. "Hi, [Y/N]. It's good to see you again."

"Hi, Sue," you replied, trying to sound casual.

"Yeah," Reed mumbled, his gaze fixed on you. "Hello, [Y/N]." He looked… uncomfortable.

"We were just finishing up some work," Sue explained. "Big project coming up."

"Cool," Johnny said. He put his arm around you, pulling you close. "I got news by the way. This my new girlfriend." He grinned, a little tipsy.

You smiled back, kissing him briefly. It was all for show, all for Reed. You wanted him to squirm.

"Yeah it's officially," you said to Sue, ignoring Reed's burning gaze.

"Congrats, I'm happy for you two" Sue replied, her smile a little strained.

"Thanks, we should probably head to bed," Johnny said, pulling you towards the hallway.

"Good night," you said to Sue, pointedly ignoring Reed.

"Good night," Sue replied.

As Johnny took your hand and led you to his room, you could practically feel Reed's eyes boring into your back. He was so mad, so jealous. He tried to hide it, but Sue could see it plain as day.

Later, in Johnny's bedroom, fueled by anger and jealousy, you kissed him, a hard, desperate kiss. You just wanted to forget Reed, even for a little while. As you made love, your moans were loud, filling the room. You wanted to make sure they could hear you.

Sue was fast asleep, but Reed was wide awake, his mind a mess. Knowing you were with another man, touching another man… it was driving him insane. He went to the kitchen for a glass of water, hoping a sleeping pill would knock him out.

But then, he heard your moans. His heart started pounding in his chest. He missed you, your body, your sounds. He was furious with himself for letting you go. He could hear your dirty talk, your groans, through the thin walls.

When you were done, you left the room, wearing only Johnny's shirt and your panties. You saw Reed in the hallway.

"Professor," you said, a sly smile playing on your lips. "Couldn't sleep?"

He walked closer, his jaw tight.

"I… I hope you had a good time," he said, his voice strained.

You cupped his cheek, your touch light and teasing. "I did," you purred.

"But I have to admit…you fuck way better." You leaned in closer, your breath warm on his ear.

"You know you're going to be thinking about me all night." He left little hurt and mad.

You turned and walked into the bathroom, took a quick shower, and then told Johnny you were leaving. He wanted you to stay. But you couldn't. You didn't want to see Reed and Sue in the morning. It would be too much.

"I had a great time, Johnny," you said gently. "But I should go. I'll see you soon."

After you left, in the middle of the night, you went to a bar. You needed a drink. And you needed to think.

You were at the bar, drowning your sorrows in whiskey. You were hammered, plain and simple. All you wanted was to forget everything. Forget Reed, forget the way he made you feel, forget the whole damn mess.

Then, he walked in. Out of nowhere. It was the middle of the night, and he’d followed you. He walked right up to you, called your name. Everything around you faded away. Just him.

Your heart started pounding in your chest.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and concerned.

You gave him a tight smile.

"I'm not exactly doing great, like you," you said. "But I'm not complaining...The one who doesn't love gets over things quickly, right? Like you did."

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking. "Please forgive me. I know I hurt you."

"You know you did," you replied, taking another swig of your drink.

"My soul hurts a little. How am I supposed to love anyone else? I tried with Johnny...but I can't."

"I gave you my heart, sincerely, and I didn't even know what you were capable of." You paused, your voice turning cold. "I'll forgive you, but it's not fair."

You didn't feel anything at all at that moment.Then you noticed he started crying.

"I still love you," he said, his voice thick with tears. "I never stopped."

"Why are you crying?" you asked, your voice flat. "Nobody died. And don't look at me like you pity me."

He said your name again, reaching for your hand. "I want you back, please" he pleaded.

"No..Don't say anything," you interrupted, pulling your hand away.

"It won't change a thing. Words just make it worse when you have nothing left to give."

He cupped your cheeks, his own tears falling now. You were both a mess.

"Don't cry," you said softly, your voice cracking. "Tears won't help. I don't need your grief. Just… give me a hug."

He hugged you tight, and you whispered in his ear, "I wish you luck." You kissed him on the cheek, a quick, meaningless peck, and grabbed your bottle. "Don't follow me," you warned, your voice firm.

He didn't. He stood there, watching you walk away, his shoulders slumped. You walked out of the bar, into the cool night air, and kept walking. You didn't look back.

🖤

He went back home, the quiet of the apartment just making the emptiness inside him feel bigger. He knew he'd lost you. That thought hit him like a punch to the gut, a real, deep ache. He felt the pain, sharp and raw, a sadness so heavy it was hard to breathe.

You, on the other hand, were at the park, the huge night sky just making you feel even more alone. The stars and moon, usually something cool to look at, didn't mean anything tonight. You just wanted to be up there, floating, no worries, no messy feelings. The tears were coming now, no holding back.

You got up, the night air feeling cold against your skin. You started walking home, not really paying attention to where you were going. You were drunk, all messed up with sadness, and bam – you didn't see the car. The hit was quick, brutal. Everything went black.

Then, it was all flashes – red and blue lights, sirens screaming, people talking, but you couldn't make out what they were saying. Then, nothing again.

Hours later, you woke up in a hospital. Doctors were there, looking worried. They asked you your name, your address.

But you were just… numb. The only thing you could think of was him.

"Reed," you mumbled.

A doctor gave you a pen and paper. You wrote down a couple of words, a quick message you had to get out. Then, you were out again.

💔

Reed was at the lab, wrestling with a particularly stubborn equation, when a police officer showed up. "Professor Richards?" the officer asked.

"I need some information from you."

Reed frowned, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. "Information? About what?"

"We have a young woman in the hospital," the officer explained. "She was hit by a car last night. Before she lost consciousness, she only said your name. She also wrote this note."

Reed’s blood ran cold. "What… what happened to her? Is she… is she alright?"

"She's alive, for now," the officer said. "But her condition is critical."

He handed Reed the note. "She also wrote this message for you."

Reed’s hands trembled as he unfolded the paper. The officer asked for your name, but Reed didn’t register the question. His eyes were glued to the page, his heart pounding in his chest.

The note read:

If you come to see me

When my soul is no longer there

On the pillow with my last tear

You will see, your name is written.

Tears streamed down Reed’s face as he read the words. He looked up at the officer, his voice hoarse. "Take me to her," he pleaded.

As he rushed out the door, Sue appeared, her brow furrowed. "Reed? What's going on? Where are you going?"

"I'll explain later, Sue," he said, his voice tight.

"I have to go.

He arrived at the hospital in a frenzy, his mind racing with terrifying possibilities. He found the room and saw you lying there, still, connected to a web of machines. A doctor approached him, his expression grim. "She's in critical condition," he said. "We barely managed to stabilize her. We’re doing everything we can."

Reed stood there, numb, staring at you. You were breathing shallowly, your face pale. He reached for your hand, his touch gentle.

Your eyes flickered open.

"Reed…" you whispered, your voice weak.

"I was…keeping my last breath…for you.

"So…I could kiss you…one last time. I want…to forgive you…I want to say that… I love you."

He leaned closer, his tears falling onto your hand. He kissed you softly, his heart breaking.

"I love you too," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Don't leave me. Please, don't."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a single tear rolling down your cheek. Then, your breathing hitched, your heart monitor flatlined. The room filled with the shrill beep of the machine.

Doctors rushed in, pushing Reed out of the room. He stood in the hallway, screaming your name, his cries echoing through the hospital.

Minutes later they barely saved you.

But as the doctor turned to leave the room, you grabbed his arm. "Tell him…tell him I'm dead," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "And…don't let him in."

The doctor looked at you, confused. "But…"

"Please," you begged, your eyes pleading. "Just… do it."

He hesitated, then nodded. Reed’s cries echoed from the hallway as doctor said you were dead. He was begging to see you. But the doctor kept him out.

Days passed. You woke up, feeling stronger. The doctor sat beside you. "Why did you ask me to lie about your death?" he asked gently.

You explained everything, the pain, the confusion, the need to escape. A week later, you were discharged. You went to a different house, changed your hair, tried to change your whole look. You were leaving the city.

Reed, meanwhile, was devastated, consumed by grief. He believed you were gone. Johnny also finds out he was heartbroken.

One day, you were heading to the train station, suitcase in hand. You were leaving the city, starting fresh. But as you walked through the station plaza, Reed saw you from his car. He slammed on the brakes, his heart leaping into his throat. Could it be? Was that… you?

He jumped out of the car, yelling your name.

You turned, startled, and tried to run, but he was faster. He grabbed your arm, stopping you.

He looked at your face, really looked, and those eyes… he’d recognize those eyes anywhere, in any crowd.

"You’re alive," he breathed, his voice full of disbelief and joy. He started laughing, tears welling up in his eyes. "You’re alive!"

"Reed, please," you said, trying to pull away. "Let me go."

He cupped your face in his hands, his touch gentle but firm. "I’m not going to lose you again," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

He kissed you, a hard, desperate kiss, full of relief and pent-up longing. He kept repeating that he loved you, that he wouldn't let you go.

"What about your wife and Johnny? What about the baby?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"I'll leave her," he said, his eyes searching yours. "I have to. I can't live without you."

You still didn't believe him. You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened.

"I'm still yours," he said, his voice low and intense. "Only yours. I love you. Please… don't leave me."

You stood there, your mind a whirlwind. Could you trust him? Could you really go back to him after everything? But then you looked at his face, at the raw emotion in his eyes, and your heart just… melted. You loved him. More than anything.

You kissed him back, just as fiercely as he kissed you. He grabbed your hand, and together, you walked back to his car. He opened the door for you, his eyes never leaving yours. As he drove, he kept glancing over at you, a soft smile on his face. He reached out and took your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. "I missed you so much," he whispered, his voice full of love. "I thought… I thought I’d lost you forever."

You squeezed his hand, tears welling up in your eyes. "I missed you too," you whispered back. "More than you know."

And in that shared moment, you knew, your love story was far from over.

Thank you for the reading 💜

Please like, reblog or comment. I appreciate it ❣️

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