#air arms review

[bimbopawz]

if Nintendo sees the opportunity and makes an irl inflatable Reefslider for Splatoon 3 merch, it's over for my wallet

[omegaplus]

# 2,781

Download III (1997)

“Happy New Year. I want to make 2019 count :) Shouldn’t say that thought. That’s the kind of thing you say and then die and then people get chills when they read your comment later.”

Robbie Vegas was the first to tell me that Phil Western passed. I shook my head in disbelief. Too soon, too soon. No one saw it coming, but he called it himself, non-intenional. According to my other friend Maniak, Western’s above year-end status made it so much worse to accept. Yes, it’s fucked coming home to find one of your favorite musicians unexpectedly say goodbye; a musician who made for some of the more significant moments for me. I bought his first solo record The Escapist (1998) at the Port Jefferson Music Den because of Download, then had correspondence with him personally when he started self-releasing his own albums starting with 2008’s 4AM. He definitely made my era at community college slightly more bearable with the first three Download records (especially III) and later we featured his sounds during our show. 2008’s DAT Hell, “Citrus Dream” and “Bleak Night” (both from 2013’s Forbidden) were also essential ones when it mattered the most.

III was released right after The Eyes Of Stanley Pain which featured cEvin Key and Dwayne Goettel (Skinny Puppy), Western, Mark Spybey (Dead Voices On Air), and some contributions from Genesis (Throbbing Gristle, Psychic TV). …Stanley Pain was the final input from Goettel, whom many Puppy fans credit for many unmatchable unusual sounds. Since III, it then became only Key and Western, and even without Goettel, Download’s magic was still very much present. You couldn’t possibly have dreamt a world like this yourself. With Key and Western’s contributions, most of III contains a hypnotic trance that’s full of passive energy and not one of constant aggressive attack like the previous ones. It spaces out on ground level with nothing surrounding it for several miles, emanating a perpetual glowing ambient aura that binds and covers this entire listening experience. Some tracks are worth noting like “Streaked” where sounds scratch and tear open the air around you, “Flight Of Luminous Insects” with its combustible surprise attacks, or “Beauty In The Eyes” where sonic surpematism is swallowed and digested to become a totally different product. III would have to live through its’ darkest moment in “Bellshaw” before it ends on its’ prettiest and sweetest moment “Were”, fading out to a peaceful eternity. And maybe it’s that type of track you should listen to as a eulogy when you think of Western’s passing. It could also be “Bleak Night”, DAT Hell’s “Passover”, or his final solo output, the recently-released e.p. New Door Opening (2018) which coincidentally in itself was a bad sign.

Western is no longer here with us, and everyone has now voted: his brilliance has put himself in a high regard that will last for decades to come. Thanks for your music, Phil, and say hello to Dwayne for us.

[heavenlydevine]

SILENCE IS GOLDEN — EDDIE MUNSON.

SUMMARY: “I'm gonna fuck that attitude right outta you, pretty girl.”

WARNINGS: PURE FILTH AHEAD. SMUT AND SMUT. ROUGH SEX. LANGUAGE. MINORS DNI.

So I reread this entire thing and it makes me question my own sanity. I mean do you all really enjoy reading my work? It's days like these where I just question whether I should just stop and reflect. But writing keeps me sane when all I feel like is constantly drowning. Thank you all for your continued support. Let me know what you thought. Reviews and reblogs appreciated.

Silence is golden.

Silence is golden.

Silence is golden.

It threatens to consume you, this aching sensation that pushes you towards the precipice of no return—a firm warning silences your pleas of mercy, “Jesus H. Christ,” teeth graze the shell of your ear, “—so fucking tight.”

You can't breathe—the sheer intensity behind his gaze rendering you a helpless, quivering mess of tangled limbs and jumbled thoughts, barely clinging unto reality as his hips set off at a brutal pace—taking without question, pushing you towards the edge, vigorously pounding into you.

“Fuck,” it surprises you, these emotions that run rampant, so lost in the euphoria rushing through your veins that you almost forget exactly where you are, head banging against the hard surface of the door. “Fuck!”

“You wanna get us caught, don't you?”

It lingers at the forefront of your mind that being caught having passionate extra-curricular activities during school would bring about the end of the world for you and the beautiful boy railing you against the bathroom stall—and yet at that moment, seeing and feeling nothing but him, well all rational thought flew out the door the moment he had gripped your hand, tugged you down the hallway, pushed you into the girl's bathrooms, and then proceeded to eat you out like his life depended on it.

It was only at the sound of footsteps echoing closer that Eddie had managed to come to his senses, grinning down at your flustered face, “I told you,” a shrill yelp had tumbled from your lips as he yanked you off the basin counter, silencing your protests with a firm kiss that made your nether regions pulse and burn, “—I'm gonna fuck that attitude right outta you, pretty girl.”

His tongue had invaded your mouth, pushing past your parted lips, firm fingers tangling through your hair, “You won't walk for a fucking week.”

You barely registered moving, only feeling his arms wrap around you with a strength that made your desire only grow, all but stumbling into the furthest stall in the bathroom, slamming the door shut just as shrill giggles resonated through the air.

You can't focus, not with his lips slanting over yours, stealing every little sound you offered him, shaking fingers desperately seeking to find the firm hardness pressing against you, “I mean did you see what she was wearing? Talk about wardrobe malfunction—.”

You can't focus—to which leads you where you were now, completely and utterly helpless to the onslaught of absolute pleasure reigning down upon you by a grinning Eddie Munson.

You aren't sure when or how he had managed to free his aching, pulsing member, gasping at the sensation of his fingers spreading you apart, thumb circling your throbbing clit—well who could blame you for throwing modesty to the wind when your only warning was a smug grin, a firm hand slapping over your mouth, and the other lifting your leg to dangle off his hip and then he bottomed out with one singular thrust.

His cock, filling you to the brim, pounds into you at such a pace that you fear being discovered, head banging against the hard surface of the door, no longer caring to be subtle, as you both found yourselves too lost in the feeling of each other than to care about the looming silence that followed after your cry of pleasure echoed through the bathroom, “Fucking fuck!”

“Get a room!”

Eddie barks a laugh the moment murmurs and cries of disgust echo through the bathroom, swallowing your moans as he shifts slightly, pulling out before plunging back in, “We did!” and somehow this union between the two of you makes it so much exciting.

You can't find it within yourself to feel mortified, instead focusing on the growing heat bubbling within, “Yeah that's it,” he grunts against you, panting heavily, “—take what I give you. Let the entire fucking school hear it. Let them know it's Eddie fucking Munson who's balls deep in this pussy.”

You fucking snap.

It hits you without warning.

“Jesus fuck!” You aren't given the chance to come down from your high, shaking and trembling, barely aware of him cursing profanities that would make a sailor proud—only feeling a brief moment of emptiness as his cock leaves you empty and hollow, yanking you around, back flush against his chest, “Give me one more. Just one fucking more.”

And then his fingers glide over your hips, digging into flesh, before burrowing himself deep into your spasming cavern, “Scream my name, pretty girl.”

But you can't, too consumed with his hips snapping forward, slow, hard, rough—and it drives you insane. “Fuck me, Munson. Fuck me like you hate me.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

It was there and then, as his cock drove into you at an unforgiving pace, that you vowed to never ever not push his limits. If it took only a few simple words for him to snap like this, well you doubted that you'd ever be able to walk again.

[crosman999]

Airgun Survival Challenge-Will They Survive?

Airgun Survival Challenge-Will They Survive?

The Airgun Survival Challenge was conceived several years ago with the idea to take several different brands of Airguns and test them for durability. These test would be over the top but still give some insight to the durability of each rifle. Showing durability is very important, this allows us to learn where some improvements can be made to each gun. Almost any gun can do well sitting at a…

[mashed-potato101]

Imagine this...

|Twisted Wonderland|

Mc turns into a child due to an alchemy accident. Instead of making someone/people do the babysitting, it's the staff who will take care of them

Masterlist | Parts 1-?

[Part 1]| Next≫

A/N: I grew incredibly sleepy while typing this midway. There are some words that are spelled wrong on purpose due to child speech. But please excuse any other grammar error, etc.

You asked Crewel for a lab review and practice after class, which he gladly agreed to. Once your final class is over, you dragged Grim along since you knew he desperately needs it. In the middle of the lab, Grim accidentally added the wrong ingredient into the pot, causing an explosion and releasing thick smoke with you surrounded by it. 

The smoke finally began to disappear, Grim and Crewel noticed you have vanished as well. They both yell out your name until they heard a soft sneeze. The two look down where you stood and saw your small figure, sitting on the floor. Crewel picked you up as you let out a giggle. Grim began to panic, his henchman- I mean friend just turned into a child. Crewel, on the other hand, remained calm. He knew this would wear off within 3 days. 

Crewel couldn’t leave you with Grim, and he knew leaving you with Ace and Deuce would be a disaster. The three are always getting into trouble and he didn’t want anything bad to happen to his favorite pup. He could try asking someone or people to take you, but it would be too much to ask. Plus, he doesn’t know if he should trust them. 

“Papa?” 

Crewel’s eyes widened. Father mode activated. 

“I’ll take (y/n) with me and look after them. I suggest you head back to your dorm and review today’s lesson.”  

Before Grim could protest, the man left with you in his arms, leaving Grim by himself. 

The next day, Ace and Deuce are in their seat in potion class, waiting for Grim and their friend. They haven’t seen both of them and grew worried. The bell soon rang as Grim walked in by himself and sat on his seat. 

“Yo Grim, where’s (y/n)?” Ace asked. 

“Well-” 

“Settle down now, pups. You know not to chat after the second bell rings.” 

Everyone looked up to see Crewel without his furry coat, but only to be replaced with... A toddler carrier? Inside the carrier on his back is a child, who looked very similar to their familiar prefect friend. 

“Um, Professor,” started Deuce, “Who is the child you’re carrying?” 

“Yeah, why do they look like (y/n)?” Ace followed along. 

Before Crewel could reply, Grim answered, “Because that is (y/n)…" 

“H A H ? !” 

You waved at everyone, “Hewo!” 

Crewel then explained what happen to the class, “There was a small accident yesterday as I gave them and Grim a lab practice. Nevertheless, they will return to normal within 2 days and I’ll be babysitting them.” 

“I’m sorry for asking, but, why couldn’t you just ask us to look after them?” spoke Deuce

Crewel scoffed, “And let you rowdy dogs handle them when you couldn’t handle yourselves? I don’t think so. Furthermore, you couldn’t even follow instructions and always put yourselves in trouble.” 

Well, he does have a point there... The trio stayed quiet, which satisfied the professor. Soon, the class began to start. Crewel gave everyone lectures as you sat above the table, reading a book he gave you. Many students in class could only gaze at you silently, gushing over your adorableness. Some gave envy stares for not having to focus on lessons during class. All of the sudden, a sharp sound of a whip slashed through the air, startling everyone. 

“Naughty dogs. Eyes up here, not at the pup.” 

Eventually, the word goes around; A prefect turned into a child and is in the hands of Professor Crewel. It is now lunchtime; you and Crewel are inside the staff room. He gave you food he had prepared for you. The other staff gathered around and asked Crewel some questions. Gaining the interest in taking care of you, they made a schedule of who’s who will have you. 

At that moment, Crowley barges inside the staff room after hearing rumors. Crowley yell at Crewel after he explained everything once more. 

“And you didn’t inform me about this!?” Crowley yelped, “You should have told me, I would love to take good care of them, for I am gracious!”

Crewel rolled his eyes, “Absolutely not. You are highly irresponsible and a terrible guardian.” 

Crowley let out a dramatic gasp. “HOW DARE YOU SAY SUCH WORDS! I am certainly not!” 

The two started bickering here and there like divorced parents arguing about who should take custody of their child. You and the other staff grew tired of their yelling. 

Trein checked the time and sighed. “I apologize for intruding in your discussion, but lunch is almost over and we must get ready to head back.” 

Crewel cleared his throat. “Well then. Since my next class is going to have a lab, I’ll entrust you to taking my little pup with you, Trein.” 

Trein nodded as Crowley throws a tantrum. “Why does Trein get to watch over (y/n)!? Wouldn’t they cause trouble and distract the class? I can take care of them, you know?” 

“I highly doubt they would. In fact, they were being a good pup in my class this morning.” Crewel answered. “Also, don’t you have any businesses to do? Since our sweet little prefect can’t do your errands at this moment?” 

Crowley began to sweat like bullets. “I- uh....” 

The bell shortly rang, notifying everyone that lunch is now over and it was time to head to their next class. Crowley sighed, he was saved by the bell.

Crewel kneeled in front of you, “You will be staying with Trein, and I expect you to be well behaved and not leave his sight. I will pick you up later once classes are over. Do you understand, little pup?” 

You nodded, “Yes, I undestand.” 

Trein stood up with Lucius in his one arm. “Now, shall we go to class?” he asked you. You nodded and jump down from your seat and grabbed his hand. 

You turned to Crewel, “Ba-bye, papa. I’ll see you lateh!” 

As you and Trein walked out, Crowley crossed his arms and turned to the black-and-white-haired man, who wore a huge grin. “How come you get to be called papa but not me?!” 

Crewel smirked, “Because I take proper care of my precious pup, unlike you...”

[sunboki]

ATTRACTIVE THINGS THE HYUNG LINE DOES

including; bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, hwang hyunjin

warnings; somewhat suggestive? the hyung line being hot lol

BANGCHAN could easily be perceived as a gentle, docile lover. a little factor that people don’t assume ( or realize ) is it’s as if he’s almost a possessive lover. but in the sweetest way possible. it could be the way his hands hold your hips with occasional squeezes when talking to others, or his breath ghosting the shell of your ear as he litters breathy kisses along your neck. it’s SO hard not to take this sexually, especially when you notice his cheerful smile and bright eyes as he’s doing so. sigh ..if only he knew the effect it had on you. occasionally you wonder if he does in fact know of his actions, and how thick the air becomes in the process. yet those wholesome dimples make you rip your hair out every time.

MINHO licks his teeth. that’s it. that’s the headcanon. before he acknowledged your reaction he did it unconsciously, almost like a bad habit. from when he’s speaking with someone to reviewing lyrics. the worst part is that on a particular day, he caught you staring. cheeks slightly flushed at the gesture—getting a smirk in return. since then, it’s been nonstop. worse, if anything. if he knows you’re looking he’ll do it in a slow, seductive manner. teasing you shamelessly. “min.. stop doing that.” you squeak, averting your eyes quickly. “stop what?” he grins, repeating the action. “that.” you frown, lip jutting out in the process. “are you pouting princess? aw c’mon don’t be like that.” he coos, using a free hand to hold your chin—puckering his lips comedically while trying to kiss your squirming face.

CHANGBIN holds things. innocently. sometimes oftentimes you’re the one he’s holding. seriously though, it’s hard not to sneak a peek. anyways, as we all know changbin works out a lot and his physique is definitely not lacking. so holding things comes with a chance to watch the rapper’s muscles flex. the best part is when he lifts you up, perhaps on the counter after a long day of nonstop practice and hardcore scheduling where he gets to have you all to himself. maybe you’re just delusional but something about his big, warm hands holding you by the thighs hits different. so strong and capable. he’ll kiss you carefully, whining about wanting to cuddle on the couch. but all you can think about is how fine he looks in that tight t-shirt—you’re stricken with guilt at the same time. “y/nnie, can we watch toy story?” the question snapping you out of your fantasy. “sure, which one?” curse his drool-worthy arms.

HYUNJIN and his eyes. they’re mesmerizing and strikingly beautiful firstly, his eyelashes accentuating their beauty even further. however, there are those moments when you’re tangled on the couch, hardly breathing in a heated make out session. and as you pull away, those once kind eyes appear predatory. like he could eat you up any minute. it makes your skin crawl with goosebumps, breath hitching involuntarily. when you get closer it’s like you can see the passion burning beneath his irises. a similar feeling could be during the late of night, hyunjin focused in on drawing as you sit comfortably in front of him. “jinnie?” you pique, and when he blinks up at you that situation arises again. it’s nearly impossibly to speak, the words caught in your throat as those observant eyes stare curiously. mesmerizing doesn’t cut it. more like hypnotic. “yes?” he begins, smiling softly at you. “ah, nothing.” hypnotic it is.

all rights for this work are owned by @sunboki

[msgexymunson]

Christmas With Eddie

Description: you spend your first Christmas with Eddie, and manage to make him feel the magic of the holidays again.

Warnings: Nothing really, just fluff, fem! implied reader, Xmas celebrations

A/N: Just a cute little fluff piece to celebrate your first Christmas with Eddie! Merry Christmas Everybody! If you enjoy it, please comment and reblog, it'll make my day (and it would be a lovely Xmas gift!) ❤💋❤

1.3k Words

Masterlist

Eddie has always hated the holidays. It was too cold for starters. Never having much at home, he never got a proper winter coat, and the holidays just seemed that little extra bitter without one. He remembers his middle school days; dragging his feet home in his year round jacket from good will, trying to stuff his hands as deep as he could into the worn pockets, attempting to excavate long lost warmth.

The TV adverts were torture on top of the cold. There's the perfect family, they seemed to say, mom, dad, two kids and a dog. Happily ever after. There was never an advert with some poor kid with an uncle for a dad, pinching pennies in a trailer park, living off of canned goods and food stamps.

It didn't matter when he grew, when he earned money from illegitimate means for himself. The holidays always had that sour edge to them, like an unripened orange. Bitter rind soft against his impoverished tongue. They weren't meant for him.

And then there was you. Eddie knew from the moment he met you that you were too good for him; too nice, too pure. He knew that this was a temporary thing; some sort of short-term madness that he was lucky enough to be a part of.

These thoughts invaded his mind when he caught up to you. He couldn't help but chuckle in the middle of the mall, eyes sparkling like the inside of a Christmas ornament. You are giggling obscenely, turning over every single snow globe you could find. There were a lot.

"Eddie, look! There's so many!" You giggle and bounce on the spot, unable to contain yourself.

"Yeah I see baby, having fun?"

Your eyes flicker back to his, pure sugar plum fairy dreams rattling around your skull.

Eddie feels a fire reigniting in his chest; a longing he hasn't felt since his mother was alive.

Failing to notice, the whites of your eyes reflect coloured fairy lights, enchanted with magic and love.

"Look at the grotto Eddie!! Oh my God, it's perfect!" You point, magic in the air expelling through your excited fervour.

Eddie laughs, following your finger. Excited children gather at the edge of the grotto, lining up to see Santa Claus.

"Look! It's so cute!" You beam, reviewing the line of wide eyed youngsters in your wake.

"You think they'd let me in?" You tilt your head to the side, pondering.

"I think you might be a little big princess." Eddie laughs, rubbing your arm in consolation.

"Hmm. No fair. I wanna see Santa."

"Well, how's about we go home and you sit on my lap instead?" Eddie smirks, tilting your chin up to meet him. You grin right back, arms thrown around his neck, pulling him in for a sweet kiss.

********************

It's Christmas Eve, and Eddie's pulling up to the trailer, expecting it to be dark and cold, since Wayne liked to pull extra hours for double pay at the plant; but to his surprise there are coloured lights in the windows. Intrigued, he walks into the living room, and sees you bouncing on your heels, in a little elf dress and hat, beaming like the rays of the sun.

Eddie and Wayne had a Christmas tree, of sorts. Just some little thing sparsely covered in cheap baubles and a few homemade decorations from when Eddie was a kid. It was still up, and the wonky stars and macaroni angel were still on it, but they had been joined by some new ornaments. Plus there was tinsel. A lot of tinsel. It surrounded the TV and the door frame, as well as hanging from the ceiling. Coloured bulbs shone everywhere, refracting the glitter, making Eddie feel like he was in the inside of a disco ball.

"Princess, it looks like Christmas threw up in here." He laughs. Eddie's stunned to say the least. No ones made the trailer look like this before. No ones cared enough.

"I know right! I asked your uncle and he said 'go ham sweetheart,'" you say back at Eddie, putting on your Wayne impression, complete with gruff voice and frowny face. Eddie chuckles. It's pretty spot on.

"You didn't have to do this you know."

"Oh I know. I just, wanted you to feel special. Plus I thought we could do gifts tonight, if you're ready?"

"Yeah if you want," Eddie flushes. "They aren't very expensive or anything."

You frown at him, eyes glassy. "Baby, it doesn't matter what they cost, they're from you. I know I'll love them."

Eddie's heart swells at your words. He wonders what you see in him, how he could have possibly gotten this lucky to call you his girlfriend. It's like everything you touch is pure magic.

He leads you to his bedroom and barks out a laugh when he gets there. You had been in here too, but the fairy lights around his desk and bed were red, and you'd managed to scrounge some black tinsel from somewhere.

"Princess I love it. Fuckin metal."

"Yeah, I thought this was more you."

Reaching to the side of the bed, you pull out a gift bag.

"Here you go baby. Merry Christmas!"

Eddie rips the bag open unceremoniously, tearing at the tissue paper inside. Out flops a matt black jewellery box. He flips it open. Inside is a silver ring; a skull, but the top of the skull turns to silver flames. Eddie is shocked.

"Sweetheart, it's too much, I-"

You wave your arms, "nope, nope. You deserve it. Just accept it. I wanted to give it to you. There's something else, look in the tissue paper."

Eddie, already reeling from the gift of the ring, looks inside the wrapping to discover another paper wrapped present. He tears it open, revealing a beautiful dice set. There's a red, dragon like eye set in the middle of each one.

"I thought- well, it was kinda like the eye of Sauron, kinda fitting for a DM, you know? All seeing?" Nerves rack your voice.

"Sweetheart, they are perfect. You're perfect." He reaches out to envelop the back of your head with his large palm, pulling you in for a soft kiss.

Eddie doesn't know how to tell you you've turned his heart inside out, and teared all his barriers down as easily as confetti.

"Here's yours princess. Sorry, I'm not great at wrapping." He thrusts a lumpy parcel into your hands, hastily added bow sitting lopsided on the top.

You rip the paper carefully to reveal the perfume you and Eddie both loved that time you visited the Mall together and nearly got thrown out by security. You giggle at the memory.

Immediately opening the box, you spray the scent on and inhale deeply.

"Oh I love it Eddie, thank you!" You peck him on the lips.

"There's, a couple more." He gestures to the parcel, cheeks flushing red.

You investigate further, and discover a mix tape, as well as an envelope. Curiously, you unseal it and look inside. It's a painted picture of what looks like your D & D character. A beautiful elven ranger, all leather and fur, with a gorgeous bow, a quiver on her back and a strength in her eye.

"Oh baby, I cant even- I'm so speechless. Its incredible! Thank you!" You throw your arms nearly violently around his neck, pushing him flat on his back.

"Thank you so much Eddie." You kiss his nose, and meet his eyes.

"No, thank you." Eddie's eyes are full with love.

Eddie has always hated the holidays. He is currently struggling to remember why. Eddie loves the holidays, now that he's with you.

This is just a gift to some lovely people. I hope you enjoy it. Happy Holidays!

@eddiesprincess86 @munson-blurbs @eddiemunsonfuxks @onehotgreasymechanic @zestychili @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @indouloureux @lunatictardis @joejoequinnquinn @bowerquinn @greenishghostey

[weepycat]

it means absolutely nothing to me when a laptop is reviewed as being “too heavy”. what do you mean she’s too fcking heavy? is five pounds too much for you? seven? tsk. this is the weight of a baby. i carry my beefy beast everywhere and my arms do not protest. if i tried to buy one of those feather-light notebooks, i would launch into the air by accident on day 2. the heft of my gamer girl laptop keeps me grounded. down to earth. if not for her on my lap, i would have floated into space by now

[stargirlfics]

Constrict

Bruce Wayne x Black Female Reader

The one where Bruce receives his first blowjob

18+ ONLY PLEASE, mostly pure smut lol enjoy!! sloppy blowjobs, dirty talk, cum swallowing/eating and a touch of deepthroating and dominant bruce 

Word Count: 2.6k

Nervous energy coursed through your fingers as you fiddled with them, waiting for the elevator to finally stop and open onto the underground expanse beneath Wayne Tower that Bruce so often occupied, now you’d just taken to calling it the Batcave.

As expected, you found him hunched over his worktable, reviewing footage from the night before, his notebook open to the side of him scribbled with his thoughts. 

“Can’t sleep?” he turned his head just a little to acknowledge your presence, and you took it as your sign to approach. “Not really no…” you trailed off, pressing a kiss to his hoodie-clad shoulder and peeking over him to see what his hands were toying with.  

That was half of the truth. You had been restless upstairs in his bed where he had left you. It was late and you had tried to get your mind to wind down so you could sleep but it had been of no use, all you could think of was Bruce. 

At first, your thoughts had been innocent, a reflection of longing, just wanting him to be next to you so you could curl up against his side but the more you thought of him, the less innocent your thoughts became until you were longing in a different way. 

You were needy and wanted a release, and decided that maybe tonight was the night to be a little more intimate with the man you had so recklessly fallen for. 

It made you feel giddy thinking about it, the fact that this was still a new relationship, that because of how busy Bruce was during the nights under his cowl and cape, there hadn’t been much time to be physical with each other besides you sleeping over on occasion and coaxing him to rest for once, let you cuddle him for a while, and now you were about to make a move. 

The dull ache between your thighs brought you back out of your thoughts and you pressed your front against Bruce’s broad back, your arms wrapping around him, the motion was slow, teasing, and it made him shift slightly on the stool. Bingo.

Distracting Bruce Wayne wasn’t something he’d say was easy to do but when it came to you, well, everything got thrown out the window. 

He was acutely aware of your presence, your eyes on him, your touch, everything, and you knew this, playing it to your advantage till he sighed and stopped adjusting the bolts on the sleek black gadget he was working on and swiveled around to face you. 

You did indeed have his full attention now and it filled you with a sense of pride to know he couldn’t seem to bother getting annoyed with you anytime you interrupted him while he was down here. 

Truthfully, Bruce was grateful you were here. He’d also been trying to get his mind to shut off but that wasn’t ever easy and there was something about your sweet voice and warm touch that he couldn’t resist going towards. He wouldn’t admit it yet, or maybe ever, but all you really had to do was give him a pout and he’d be willing to drop everything to turn it into a smile. 

He was still a bit awkward in those quiet moments like this where unspoken tension hung in the air, not wanting to say the wrong thing to you in fear the moment would slip away. So instead he reached out, his hands finding their place on the curve of your hips, pulling you in towards him. 

Your own arms wound their way over his shoulders, your pulse quickened as he tucked his head down so that his forehead was against yours, and you didn’t skip a beat before your lips were on his, the kiss sweet and polite. 

“We should go to bed…sorry for leaving you alone up there, I thought you’d be out like a light,” his voice was calm, whispered, relaxed in the way he only ever got with you or Alfred. 

Now was your chance…you were nervous, your heart practically leaping into your throat but something about this felt right, you wanted him and weren’t gonna shy away this time. 

“It’s okay, I did too. I..just kinda couldn’t stop thinking about you, that’s all…” your hands twisted the fabric of his hoodie slightly once the words left your mouth, hoping he would begin to catch on to all the signs.

He did. The big hands still on your waist, tightened their hold just a little as he nodded slowly, his eyes studying your face and the quick rise and fall of your chest. 

Bruce felt his pulse beating fast too, thoughts coming to the forefront of his mind of all the rather sinful things he wanted to do with you and to you. Yes, he wasn’t very experienced with this stuff but he was hungry for you and was tired of trying to hide it, from you and himself. 

“I see. Wanna tell me what you were thinking about?” there was an edge to his voice, a suggestiveness that made your belly warm, especially so when he pulled you in by your waist even closer to him.

“Mm, well I actually think it’d be better if I just showed you. Can I?” you squeak out, very aware of the way his legs widen to give you more space to stand between them. 

You were so cute he couldn’t help but smile at your request, jerking his chin up in a sly nod that signaled you could do what you wanted. So you took in a breath and let your hands slide down from his shoulders to his chest and then inched lower, not too quick, not too slow, delving under the hem of his hoodie before the tips of your fingers traced down his abdomen.

Bruce closed his eyes for a mere second as you did, the muscles there contracting slightly, his breath heavier the lower your fingers went until they stopped at the waistband of his pants. Your eyes met for a moment and before you could move, he had a thumb on your chin, his index finger underneath to keep you there. 

“Don’t get shy on me now.” 

The gruff edge to his voice sparked even more desire in you, giving you that one last nudge to go for it.  

So you smirk and flick open the button of his pants, tugging the zipper down in one swift motion and letting your hand flatten out against him, “I’m not shy at all, baby,” and your smirk only widens when you feel him twitch underneath your fingers. He’s already hard and it makes your core ache. 

Bruce chuckled and quickly took off his hoodie, rolling it up and dropping it on the floor in front of you, “Knees, sweetheart.” 

You knew what he meant, fighting an audible whimper as you sank to your knees, the hoodie padding them a little as you helped Bruce pull down a couple layers, mouth watering as his length sprung free. 

The tension in the air was thick as you watched Bruce pump his hand up and down the shaft, just watching you from his perched position on the stool, growing harder at the sight of you licking your lips, waiting so patiently to get your mouth on him. 

As much as he wanted to make you wait, to tease you, he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not when you were giving him those puppy eyes, so he reached down, cupping your chin and pulling you forward until the tip of him was tapping against your lips. 

“So are you gonna finally show me what you were thinking about? Or do you need me to do that for you too?” 

Oh, he wasn’t playing fair, like he knew you would be into that slight touch of dominance, and you were, and you liked that Bruce was gaining confidence, but that would have to wait for another day. His words were a challenge and you were determined to do this. 

The grip on your jaw tightened when your tongue came out to swipe over the head, a ragged gasp leaving Bruce’s lips. One second in and he was mesmerized by the sight of you. This was the first time anyone had ever been on their knees for him, taking him into their mouth and it made his chest feel tight in the best way. This was already so much better than his lone hand at night. 

You hummed and glanced up at him as you wrapped your lips around him, taking him a little further into your mouth, tasting him, letting your tongue flatten out on the underside of him, smiling when you felt his thigh jump underneath your hand.

He was thick, filling up your mouth generously and the deep breaths and groans he gave you as you hollowed out your cheeks a little more on his chest, one hand twisting the rest at the base only made you wetter. 

It was unlike anything he’d felt before, his muscles seizing slightly every time you sucked him further into the heat of your mouth, especially so when he felt you gag, his eyes going wide at the realization that he was slipping down your throat, that you were swallowing him down, choking on his girth and that you were hungry for it too. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, that feels…” the words died in his throat as you bobbed your head further down, desperately trying to reach the base of him, tears starting to prick at your eyes. He sounded so damn hot and it spurred you on knowing you were making him feel so good. 

Up until this point Bruce had one hand steady on your jaw and the other outstretched, holding onto the workbench his back was against, he was almost afraid to move because he knew what his hands would do but he didn’t know how much force to use just yet, afraid to hurt you, make you uncomfortable.

But you could see it in his eyes, the slight tremble of his hand, how his fingers must itch to grab you, so you decided to let him know that you wanted him to let loose. He deserved it. 

A few slurps were rewarded before you started to pull off him, spit dripping onto your chin, a string of it still connected from his tip to your mouth and the sight of that alone made him twitch. 

“You can touch me you know,” you leaned back in to kiss his thighs, peppering them up along his shaft, “Know you want to put your hands on me; you don’t have to hold back, or be so gentle. I can handle a dick.” you giggled when you saw the look in his eyes change, your words sinking in. 

Well, since he had your word, he’d give you what you wanted. 

There was a split second of time for you to suck in a breath of hair before his strong hands were on your head and jaw, guiding your head back onto his throbbing length, the touch of strength, the way he was handling you exactly what you’d been hoping for. 

You relaxed your throat as much as you could, sinking into his hold, letting him know you had his trust, that it was okay, your teary eyes blinking up at him as he pushed into your throat, a string of curses grunted under his breath as your throat constricted around him just right, the sensation spreading to his toes as his hands deftly worked your head up and down on him, the sounds so damn filthy and wet but so good. 

It was sloppy and Bruce realized he liked that. He liked it a lot actually. As he pulled you off him a little so you could could get some oxygen, some of your drool fell down to your chest and some of it slid down to the base of him. It felt so dirty and he fuckin liked it. 

“God…how long have you been thinking about my dick down your little throat? Hmm, baby? How long?” the words didn’t sound like the typically shy and reserved Bruce that you knew but of a side of him newly awakened and you were all for it, indulging him.

“W-weeks.” you garbled, trying to speak around the thickness of him, whimpering as your throat spasmed, and his own moan followed.

“Mhm, that’s my girl. Your little throat feels so good on me.” Bruce smirked when he noticed you clenching your thighs together at his words. He very much loved seeing this side of you too.

Eventually, his grip on you loosened a bit, and the quick and shallow thrusts he’d been giving to fuck into your mouth became less controlled, allowing you to take a little more of the reigns as you got him towards his climax, relishing in how his muscles flexed the closer he got. 

You kept your eyes on him, trying to commit to memory how beautiful he looked, how hot his groans sounded, how powerful you felt being able to bring him to this point until his voice was pulling you from those thoughts. 

“Fuck, fuck, gonna cum-” he grit out, a hand once again at your jaw trying to pull you away. How cute, as if you wouldn’t want him to cum down your throat after all that, but you couldn’t blame him, he’d never done it before but you were determined to be the first to taste him like this. 

His eyes flung open at the realization that you weren’t pulling off him so that he could finish on your chest or something, no, you were flush against him, your eyes a sinful sight, practically begging him to do it, to let go. 

And that’s what sent him over the edge, the fact that you wanted him like this. 

Bruce felt white hot as he focused on it, on the sight of you between his thighs, your hands accommodating what you couldn’t fit, the obscene sounds, the way he felt so worshiped, so wanted by you at this moment and it all rose to a fever pitch inside him, almost overwhelming as he gave in to the pull. 

The side of his fist slammed into the workbench, rattling it as hot ropes of cum spurt onto your tongue, your eyes fluttering at the sensation, your head bobbing still but slower now, milking him tenderly, wanting him to ride out the high as long as possible, swallowing what he gave you as best you could while he was still pulsing into your mouth. 

When you finally eased off him you were both out of breath, him more so than you, but there were unmistakable grins on your faces as well. 

Bruce watched as you cleaned the edges of your lips with your fingers, sucking the last remnants of his cum off them, another string of curses said under his breath at the sight. You were gonna be the death of him if this was any indication of what intimacy would be like with you going forward. 

“Not bad for your first blowjob…” you giggled, pulling yourself up to stand now, legs a little wobbly. 

He caught your wrist and pulled you forward, chest still rising and falling deeply, “Ah well thankfully I’m in capable hands,” he pressed his lips to yours, a sweet thank you uttered in between kisses. 

It was later now than it had been when you ventured down here and something told you that neither of you would be getting much sleep with the way Bruce had you pressed against the wall of the elevator on the way back up to his bedroom, his cock hardening once again, but that was okay, you thought to yourself, your mouth missed him far too much already anyway.

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A/N: I just really think Bruce is a fan of sloppy blowjobs and couldn’t help myself! Hope you liked it and please reblog and comment, let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!!!

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some tags! @emilykjh​ @squidlywiddly87​ @lothcatlady​ @yelenas-lova​ @allaboardthereadingrailroad​ @inklore​ @fluffyprettykitty​ @yonduismarrypoppins​ @empower-bi-women​ @geniedetails​ @ozarkthedog​ @existentialvacuum​ @earl-aive​ 

[rocknrollbabe14]

Hot for Teacher (Professor Joseph Quinn x Reader)

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warning: Cursing, lust, mentions of the body’s anatomy, mentions of drinking and partying, SMUT, p in v sex, kinda unprotected sex (reader is on birth control but no use of condoms), praise kink, slight degrading kink, college professor and college student relationship, PURE FILTH AT THE END. THIS IS YOUR WARNINGS. If you feel I left any out, please feel free to message me. 

@josephs-quinns

The leaves were a mix between green, yellow, and orange. Fall was here. The evening air had a crisp chill to it, a sign the sunset was close behind. You had signed up for evening classes as you were not a morning person—far from it. You needed Anatomy to pursue any career in the medical field, a profession your parents would be proud of. They thought it was wise to send you away to a four-year university. 

You opened the door to the hall where your Anatomy class and lab would take place this evening. You passed other students, keeping your eyes straight ahead. You had a dorm mate and she had easily become your best friend. You all had some of your classes together. Thanksgiving break would be here before you knew it, you just needed to hold on a little longer. You liked to sit closer to the front, you felt like it made you focus better, however, that was arguably in question when it came to this class.

You opened your textbook, beginning with the chapters for this week—the reproductive system. Maybe this week wouldn’t be so hard. You had taken sex ed in high school. This stuff was a no-brainer. Or so you thought. 

Your professor was never early. He usually came in right before class was due to start. His office was close to the room. You had made a mental note one day on your way to class, plus read the information on the paper he gave you on the first day of class, giving you his office hours, office location, phone number, office number, and email. There were girls in the back of the class—the ones who thought they were God’s gift to the world. 

“Maybe I can just seduce him and get an A.”, one said, causing you to instantly roll your eyes. 

The door shut, causing the talking to cease as Professor Quinn entered his classroom, his teacher’s copy of the Anatomy book in his arms along with some papers. He laid his book on his desk before beginning his usual spill. 

“Good evening, class. I’m going to take roll and then we will get started. Remember, next week is your chapter test and it’s due by Friday before the testing center closes. Also, next week is your lab practical on the upper portion of the human skeleton, which we will review before leaving tonight.”

Your brain almost couldn’t focus on his words while looking at him—his brown curly hair almost shoulder length. His brown eyes could stare daggers, causing your heart to skip a beat. He was dressed in brown slacks with a white button-up, tucked in his pants. He wore glasses every now and then, complaining to the class that he stayed up late grading the tests and if he did, he would wear his glasses the next day.

Professor Joseph Quinn. He began reading off the class roster. You patiently waited for your name, practicing saying the simple word ‘here’. 

“Y/F/N Y/L/N.”, Professor Quinn called out, eyeing you.

“Here.”, you smiled easily as you brushed a piece of hair behind your ears. 

His eyes lingered on you as he continued to call roll. You pursed your lips nervously as you looked down at your book, your eyes immediately catching the diagram of the male reproductive system. Your brain began to skim some of the words, trying to focus on something other than your professor. You could still feel his eyes on you, however, you couldn’t bring yourself to look up. 

You could hear him reading off your classmates' names as you opened your notebook, preparing to take notes. You were doing well at anatomy but feared that you’d mess up and make a bad grade. 

“Alright, let’s begin. We are starting the reproductive system—this will include the male reproductive system, the female reproductive system, and pregnancy.”, he began as he flipped open his own book.

You ran your tongue across your teeth, trying to focus. You had to continue to do well in this class if you had any hope of getting into your medical program. But he made it so hard—so difficult. And you knew hearing him talk about sex was going to make it worse—so much worse.

“Alright, so the male reproductive system is mostly located outside of the body. External organs include what?”, Professor Quinn asked, hoping some of his students had pre-read the material.

Your heart skipped a beat as your mind quickly pondered if you should answer or not. His eyes panned the classroom, an eager expression on his face. Your mouth instantly felt dry and you were unsure if you could muster the words out. That’s when his eyes hit you, pleading to give the answer. 

“Y/N?”, he asked.

“The penis.”, you blurted out, quickly. 

You instantly felt your cheeks heat up, flushing. 

His eyes widened before he looked pleased someone had finally answered his question. “And?”

You tapped your pencil against your book. “Scrotum?”

“Yes, very good Y/N, and one more?”

“Testicles.”

“Yes, someone did their reading.”, Professor Quinn praised you.

You felt your stomach twist and turn at his praise. You could only imagine what it would be like for him to praise you in other ways.

“I am aware this may be an awkward module for some of you, however, please keep in mind this is just normal functions of the human body. I expect all of you to remain professional and behave as the adults you are.”, he eyed the class before continuing. 

Most of everyone nodded, this satisfying him. He went on to explain the importance and the functions of the male reproductive system. You watched his lips moving, teasing you with each word that rolled off his tongue. You watched as he became slightly theatrical with his lecture, running his hand through his curls as he continued spouting off. 

“One of the main functions of the male reproductive system is to produce, maintain, and transport sperm. When the penis becomes erect, urine is blocked from the urethra.”

You eyed him as you were scribbling down little facts. You remember sex ed, but you didn’t remember all of this.

“A mnemonic that helps students remember the pathway of sperm is SEVENUP.”

This caught you off guard, him chuckling as the words left his lips. He went on to explain the pathway including the seminiferous tubules of the testes, epididymis, vans deferens, ejaculatory duct, urethra, and penis. Some girls giggled slightly, Professor Quinn giving them a look of displeasure. You just knew when you got back to your dorm, you’d have to read the chapter yourself again. It was becoming too difficult to focus on anatomy while looking at him. 

Professor Quinn covered the female anatomy next.

“Alright, next we will be discussing the female reproductive system and pregnancy. The main function of the female reproduction system is to release eggs or ova from her Fallopian tubes. Each month a female will go through three phases that make up her menstrual cycle. This includes the follicular phase in which the egg develops, the ovulatory phase in which the egg is released, and if the egg is not fertilized by a sperm and does not implant in the uterine wall—the luteal phase.”

You jotted those down quickly. You knew about menstrual cycles and what happened during your time of the month, but you didn’t know the names. Terms were thrown around but he was very thorough in his explanations. That’s what you loved about him and his class. It was refreshing to see a man so educated about the topic. Your ex boyfriends never understand your period. You couldn’t lie—you could listen to his voice all day long. 

You could imagine laying in bed with him after making slow, soft, sensual love with him or having wild, rough sex with him, whichever occurred, and just listening to him talk all about——

“Y/N?”, you heard him call your name.

It jarred you straight out of your daze.

“Yes Professor Quinn?”

“I asked you when a sperm and egg meet, it’s called a—?”

“Uh—a zygote.”, you answered, quickly.

“Very good.”, he smiled at you.

He went on to explain the beginning of pregnancy and each developmental stage of the fetus. He would make cute babies. You’d like to have his babies. You rested your chin on your hand, leaning your arm on the table. You’ve got to stop thinking these thoughts. You have got to stop. By the end of class, you had scribbled eight pages of notes, bookmarked four diagrams, and labeled the upper portion of the human skeleton. You packed your book away, notebook, and binder before being the last to file out of his classroom.

“Um Professor Quinn?”, you asked meekly.

“Yes Y/N?”, he closed his book before leaning over his desk, smiling up at you.

“Um—I was wondering—am I doing okay?”

“In my class?”, he asked.

You nodded easily, eyes innocently looking into his, waiting for his response. 

“Yes, very good. If I remember when I uploaded your last test grade, you had an eighty-seven average. You have consistently tested well and kept up with homework assignments.”

“I’m just so nervous I’ll do bad…..”

He chuckled lightly. “You’re doing well, love. Don’t stress too much. However, if you feel you need additional assistance, you can schedule a tutoring session. Just email me.”

“Thank you, Professor Quinn. For everything.”

“Absolutely, it’s no problem. Quite refreshing to see a student read the book before class.”

You smiled, hoping your cheeks weren’t becoming flushed. “Thank you.”

“Have a good weekend, Y/N.”

“You too, Professor Quinn.”

A couple of days passed and Friday was finally here. You had done laundry and cleaned your side of the dorm. You’d already spent the last two nights reviewing material for anatomy, even asking Tori, your roommate, to quiz you. 

“Y/N, we’ve done this a hundred times.”, Tori chuckled.

“It’s only been six.”

“Exactly, and each time you do well. What kind of spell does this Professor Quinn have over you?”, she joked.

You rolled your eyes. “Tori.”

“You’ve admitted he’s hot—even called him sexy. That’s why you put so much effort into this class, isn’t it?”, she teased.

“Not the only reason.”, you defended. “I also need the class to get into any med program.”

She laughed, sitting your book and flashcards to the side. “I hear there’s going to be a party tonight. We should go.”

“A party? We could get expelled for even being there.”

Tori shrugged. “Live a little.”

She nudged your shoulder, causing you to laugh. You had never partied since you had begun college. You just knew you were a lightweight—you hardly ever drank. 

“My parents would kill me.”, you sighed.

“They won’t find out.”

Eventually, Tori talked you right into going to this party. It was on campus at a frat house. You had an uneasy feeling as you got ready, putting on a brown criss-cross peplum top that showed your cleavage, a blue jean skirt, tights, and boots. 

“Look at you.”, Tori began. “The boys will love you.”

You rolled your eyes easily. “I’m not trying to pick up boys.”

“No, that’s right—you want your professor.”, she smirked. 

“Tori!”

She went off to the fridge laughing as she grabbed a water. 

Tori’s outfit appeared to be much more provocative than yours. You bit your lip easily as you grabbed your phone, sliding it into your back pocket before you both headed out of your dorm. The fall night air hit you both like a ton of bricks, even more chilly than it had been the days before. You rubbed your arms easily as you walked the campus, heading towards the frat house. 

Tori had warned you that you both had to be unsuspecting if there were campus police or anyone else who could possibly turn you all in for parties. You all came upon the frat house, steady bass thumping from the music inside. Tori flashed a smile to the boys standing outside, smoking as you both cleared the door. There was smoke thick in the air, almost everyone had a red solo cup in their hands, and they were dancing to the music. 

You looked over at Tori, unsure if this was your scene. She could read the uncertainty on your face as she dragged you over to the punch bowl and where the alcohol was. She instantly handed you a drink, telling you to loosen up. You eyed it suspiciously before smelling it. It smelled a little strong, more than you were used to. After Tori began drinking, you decided to throw caution to the wind even though your parents had raised you better than this. You could imagine how disappointed they would be if they found out what you were up to.

You downed your first drink as you and Tori danced to whatever throwback hits they decided to play. After the first drink, you began to feel a buzz. Your whole body was tingling, your vision was slightly hazy. The feeling felt good, it was a break from all the stress of school. You made your way back over to the table bringing you and Tori another drink. Tori was surprised at you, drinking a second drink. 

You drank it with no problem. However, it intensified those feelings you were feeling—the body tingling, the hazy vision. You felt in your right mind, but it was as if it was foggy. Before you knew it, you had lost the concept of time. You and Tori were both unsure of how much time had passed since you had arrived at the party. Drinks three and four entered your system, causing you to begin to slur your speech slightly. 

The alcohol clearly wasn’t affecting Tori as much as it was you. However, you knew you were a lightweight. 

“Y/N, maybe you should take a break from drinking.”, Tori laughed, but there was a seriousness in her voice as she took the cup out of your hand, tossing the empty fourth cup away.

You rolled your eyes again before scoffing at her. “I—thought—you—wanted—me——to loosen up.”

“I did, but you’ve had like four drinks, babe.”

You scoffed again easily. The chatter continued in the room, you could feel the bass thumping in your chest. You and Tori were in the living room. She was chatting it up with a guy, seeming to hit it off. You were debating going back for another drink. Once you drank a couple, the aftertaste wasn’t so bad. It didn’t burn your throat half as bad. School was the furthest thing from your mind at this moment. What could one more drink hurt? 

That’s when things went to hell. No one immediately heard the door being thrown open. “Good Girls Go Bad” by Cobra Starship was blaring. Tori’s eyes widened in front of you, causing you to look behind you. Your eyes widened even in your drunken stupor. You all were fucked. Quite literally. It was none other than Professor Quinn here to break up the party. He waded his way through the drunken and sweaty students and haze of cigarette smoke, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead. 

Couples making out in the corners ceased their actions immediately, the music shut off abruptly, and you all felt like your parents had walked in on you doing something they explicitly told you not to do. 

“Okay, the party is OVER.”, he began raising his voice loud enough for everyone to hear, clearly trying to find his footing as he stood in the middle of the living room. 

He looked around the room, everyone watching him. Some were his students, some were not. But that didn’t change the fact that a professor had crashed the party—one of which was not supposed to be happening. He was dressed in brown khakis, a white shirt with a brown tie, and his glasses were on—he must have been up late the night before grading papers. 

“I want all of you to leave, NOW. If you’re intoxicated, please DO NOT drive. If you have sober friends here, I highly suggest they escort you back to your dorms. If none of you are sober and you need help being escorted back to your dorm safely, I will call the campus police. If you are not a student here, you need to call a cab or Uber or whatever and leave the premises immediately.”

You could see the frustration on his face. You hoped maybe by some miracle he wouldn’t notice you. All you needed was for him to be disappointed in you. 

“Also, we will have to inform the Dean this has occurred. Whoever’s idea this was, better come forward Monday morning. The punishment may be less severe and you may not get kicked out of college in the process.”, he sighed, clearly aggravated as he rubbed his forehead, furrowing his eyebrows, careful to miss his glasses. 

You looked over to find Tori as students began scrambling, attempting to leave. She was nowhere to be found. Great, just fucking great. You debated going upstairs to hide in one of the bedrooms or bathrooms until he left but he probably would find you. You turned to begin scrambling yourself before feeling dizzy, extremely dizzy. The room was spinning as people rushed around you. You tried to blink, hoping this would clear your vision. It didn’t. 

You felt a hand on your shoulder. 

You turned to view him, feeling nauseated and dizzy.

“Y/N? Are you drunk?”

You smiled sheepishly. “Professor Quinn, uh, I—”

He sighed, before running a hand through his hair. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Um—maybe four or five drinks—I can’t—remember.”

“Who did you come with?”, he asked. 

You felt like the unlucky one in this position, considering everyone else was getting to leave scot-free. Any other time, you would have given anything to talk to Professor Quinn.

“My friend…..”

“Where is she?”

You shrugged, a drunk smile spreading across your flustered, pale face. “I’m not sure.”

“You’re clearly too intoxicated to walk back to your dorm. I’ll drive you in my car. It’s just in the parking lot over.”, he offered.

You couldn’t tell if he was angry or upset or even disappointed in you. That’s what bothered you the most was not being able to read him. It was practically cleared out when Professor Quinn escorted you out of the frat house. The campus looked like a ghost town. The air was cool and fresh in comparison to the hot and stuffy air in the frat house. He held your shoulders, careful not to let you fall down the steps as you all left. 

“Are you cold?”, he asked.

“Kinda,——but it’s fine…..”

“I’ve got a jacket in my car. Can I ask what you were doing at a party?”

“Just went with——my friend.”

He nodded easily, debating how much of a serious conversation to have with you right now. Even he knew this was so out of character for you. You stumbled a few times before you reached his car, him catching you each time. His car was nice you noted. A Mercedes Benz. He opened the passenger door easily as you neared the door. He helped ease you in gently, carefully so as to not let you fall or bang your head. The leather was chilly against your thighs—even with tights on. 

He got in the back, grabbing the brown suit jacket that matched his brown slacks the other day, easily climbing in the driver’s side, and handing you the jacket. You took it reluctantly, keeping eye contact with him. It took you a couple of tries to get both arms in the jacket comfortably. He started the car, backing out carefully. It wasn’t a far drive to the girl's dorm rooms. The radio played softly as the scenery blurred past you. 

“Which dorm do you live in?”

“Um—1416.”, you responded easily. 

He nodded, turning off. You thought your night would end here once he got you back to your dorm room, safely. He helped you up the stairs leading to your dorm room. He eyed you as he knocked on the door to your dorm room. No answer. You shrugged easily, trying to dig through your pockets to find your key, however, when you and Tori left together, you failed to bring a spare key assuming you both would return at the same time. 

“Do you have a spare key?”, he asked.

You shook your head. “No…..”

He sighed, nodding. “Okay, I could so get fired for this…..”

“Fired——for——what?”, you asked, giggling. 

His brown eyes stared daggers into yours as he took your arm, helping you back down the stairwell. “Just——I can’t leave you here alone.”

“Where—are——we going?”

“Somewhere safe, do you think your drink was spiked or anything Y/N?”

You shook your head. “No, no, no. I don’t—don’t think so.”

He nodded.

The last few things you remember were him leading you back to his car, opening the door for you, and assisting you back inside. You remember the radio playing softly in the background as he drove. You could smell his cologne, the street lights reflecting his glasses. His hands were gripping the steering wheel rather tightly. He would glance over at you every few minutes, you imagine to make sure you were okay. Your eyes were heavy, begging to close. You finally gave in, everything fading to black.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Your eyes shot open as a wave of nausea hit your stomach, causing you to want to seek the nearest bathroom immediately. It was morning, that much was obvious. You looked around the room, realizing you were in an unfamiliar setting. The walls were beige, grey curtains holding most of the morning sunlight out. The bed was a king-sized bed, this was definitely not anywhere you were familiar with. The double doors, opened revealing a master bathroom. Had you met a guy at the party and slept with him? You didn’t have much time to try and collect your memory. 

You peeled the covers back immediately, springing out of bed and heading straight for the bathroom. You held your hand over your mouth as you barely made it—throwing yourself over the commode, the contents of your stomach coming up—which wasn’t a lot. You heard feet behind you, wondering if this was the moment you’d meet whoever you went home with. 

“Hold on, hold on.”, the voice was familiar, the tone soft on your ears which were ringing. 

You felt your hair being pulled back, the touch sending chills down your spine. You weren’t done expelling the contents of your stomach as you realized this was Professor Quinn. Your eyes were watering, wondering if you were done. Your chest heaved, trying to catch your breath as you sat on your knees. The feeling of nausea passed, for now, you leaning your head against his cool, beige wall. 

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Professor Quinn?”, you mumbled easily.

“Joe.”, he corrected.

Your eyes opened, and a confused expression came across your face. “But—”

“Just call me Joe. We’re not in class. Matter of fact, we crossed a lot of lines last night….”, he smiled sheepishly. 

“Oh God—did we sleep together?”, you asked groggily before closing your eyes.

Not that you didn’t want to sleep with him—he was attractive, sexy, the whole package but you imagined the rumors may start and that was the last thing you both needed. Plus, you didn’t want him to lose his job or you to be expelled. The latter was a good chance, considering you were pretty sure he picked you up at the party. 

“No, no, we didn’t.”, he began easily. He took another hand through his curls. He was in a t-shirt and pajama pants. “But you were super intoxicated at the frat house party, do you remember any of that?”

You nodded. “I remember bits and pieces, I just feel so hazy.”

He nodded. “Okay, let’s lay back down. Do you want a t-shirt of mine to wear or something so you can get out of those—those clothes?”

You imagined you probably reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke from the party. “I look like such a whore in these, don’t I? Yeah, sounds okay J—Joe.”

Hearing his actual first name roll off your tongue felt so foreign. He got up from the bathroom floor, looking down at you and you felt your stomach twist in knots. You could just imagine providing him with something else.

“No, absolutely not! I just feel like those are very tight—and constricting.”, he gulped before going into his bedroom, opening a drawer, and bringing back a black t-shirt. 

You eyed it easily as he handed it to you. You cleared your throat easily as you stood up, feeling a little dizzy. You steadied yourself against the wall, beginning to head for your tights. Without lifting up your skirt, you stuck your hands under your skirt, pulling them down easily. He couldn’t help but eye you as you were doing this. You finished sliding them down your legs, bent over in front of him. If only you knew what you were doing to him.

His mouth went dry, eyeing you. He attempted to swallow his thoughts about how good you looked in that outfit even if you had just puked your guts out in front of him.

“I’ll be in the kitchen grabbing some Tylenol from the cabinet and some water.”, he smiled at you, surprised he got his words out with fumbling. 

He disappeared as you worked your skirt down your hips, stepping out of it. You folded it before neatly laying it on the counter. You slid your shirt up and over your head, admiring yourself in the mirror in just your bra and panties. You quickly grabbed his shirt, slipping it on, it barely brushed your mid-thigh. However, it smelt just like him and it was absolutely intoxicating and heavenly. 

You grabbed your clothes as you made your way back into his bedroom. He entered the room with the pills in his hand along with a glass of water, the most you wanted to attempt to try and keep down right now. You were standing up, worried if you sat down you’d expose your ass in front of him.

“Professor Qu—I mean Joe, I can really go back to my dorm after I take this Tylenol.”, you eyed him easily. 

It was still so weird to call him Joe. You knew his name was Joseph, but no one called him that. Professor Quinn or Mr.Quinn is what he said he preferred. You thought it was more respectful to call him Professor Quinn. He handed you the glass of water and the pills, you took them quickly before chasing them with the water. 

“I don’t think that’s the best decision right now. You clearly have what they call a hangover. I plugged your phone up last night, it was dead when we got here.”

You took another sip of water. “Thank you, I just don’t want you—us to get in trouble.”

He sighed easily. “It would be worse if I left you alone, I believe.”

You nodded as you sat down on the bed, sure to cover your ass. 

“Just get some rest for now. I’ll draw the curtains more, I’ll close the bedroom door, and if you need anything I’ll be in the living room grading some tests. Also, maybe later you can try and eat dinner.”

You nodded as he motioned for you to lay back in his bed. It was so soft, so plush. He grabbed the sheet and comforter, easily pulling it over you. He pulled the curtains just like he said he would before he made his way to the bedroom door, easily looking back at you. His brown eyes could cause you to melt in a puddle. 

“Again, if you need me, I’ll be in here.”

You nodded as he easily shut the door. You were trying to wrap your head around the fact you were in Professor Quinn’s bed, in his bedroom, in his freaking house. You pulled the comforter tight around you, feeling secure, and somehow managed to drift off to sleep.

________________________________________________________________________

Your eyes shot open again—the nausea back in full force. You knew you needed the bathroom again. You peeled the covers back quickly before your feet hit the floor. The room was a blur as you sped to open the bathroom door. You didn’t notice you had to open it—the bathroom door. It was just open before. Your eyes widened as you realized the consequence of your action.

You heard his gasp, causing your eyes to shoot toward the shower.

“Fuck, oh my God. I am so fucking sorry Professor—I mean, Joe. Fuck!”, you exclaimed looking towards the shower, realizing the room was steamy and you were definitely not alone.

He eyed you, wide-eyed. You saw everything—literally everything he had. You closed your eyes, pursing your lips. It was etched in your fucking brain. His physique was perfect. And not to mention his size.

“I just needed to throw up again—which now I am super nauseated.”, you covered your already closed eyes. 

“Am I that terrible looking?”, he tried to jest. 

You hoped he was as embarrassed as you. You had no intention of seeing him naked—I mean you fantasized about it—but not like this. 

“No, of course not! I didn’t mean it like that—fuck.”, you cursed easily as you tried to feel your way around his bathroom.

That nauseated feeling hadn’t departed. 

You didn’t dare to look up at him. You fumbled trying to find the trash can or toilet. Whichever came to you first. Maybe if you found the trash can, you could at least exit the bathroom. 

“It’s just real-life anatomy.”, his voice justified easily, ringing in your ears, a hint of seduction laced in it. 

You finally slid to the cold floor, finally feeling the trash can as if you were blind. You grabbed it, bringing it close to your mouth. You forgot all you were wearing was one of his t-shirts and bra and panties. Was this reality? Were you dreaming? You almost wanted to pinch yourself. 

“But—”

“But what? I’ve seen the way you look at me in class. The innocent stare before my eyes meet yours, causing you to look away like a little schoolgirl.”

“And?”, you leaned your head against the wall, some nausea subsiding. 

“And I notice the way you wear those short fucking skirts teasing the shit out of me.”

Your eyes popped open, his sentence catching you completely off guard. “Professor—”

You could see the smirk spreading across his lips. His next action completely caught you by surprise. It was something you only dreamed of in your fantasies. His hand wandered down to his cock. You gulped as he took himself in his hands, stroking himself. He threw his head back. 

“Fuck. You pretend to be such a good little girl, don’t you?”

“I usually am…..”, you trailed off. 

“Really? Daddy’s little girl partying while away at college and having naughty thoughts about her Professor?”

You eyed him, narrowing your eyes. He was so right—but you didn’t want to admit that to him. 

“Am I wrong? I mean it appears you had intentions of being fucked—yes? I mean you’re wearing a lacy black thong.”

“How do you know?”, you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Love, I can see them from here.”

Your cheeks instantly heated up, you squeezing your legs together. He chuckled. 

“Why hide it from me now, love?”

You scoffed at him. “I don’t know....did you really wanna see my panties?”

What was really coming out of your mouth? Were you really asking him these questions?

“I’d like to see what’s underneath them.”, he smirked. 

Your eyes widened at his words—the nausea immediately subsided. 

“Why don’t you come and join me in the shower?”, he continued. 

“You can’t be fucking serious.”, you eyed him laughing in the beginning, however, your smile slowly faded into a serious look.

“I am fucking serious. Be a good little girl and get your ass in this shower.”

His words sent chills down your spine and caused your stomach to twist into a huge knot. You picked yourself up off his bathroom floor before stripping his shirt off slowly as you bit your lip, teasing him. You felt the warm air that was circulating in the bathroom hit your skin. His shirt hit the floor and you looked up to see his facial expression. His cock remained in his hands, erect and hard. 

“Now, take your bra and thong off. God, please take them off.”, he groaned. 

You took a deep breath, reaching for the clasp of your bra. You felt each hook unsnap with ease, letting your bra fall to the floor. Your breasts were finally free, feeling his eyes on your body. 

“Now the thong.”, he said with a soft groan.

You grabbed the waist of your thong easily beginning to slide it down your thighs before bending over and stepping out of it. You felt his eyes on you. You now were completely like those diagrams you scanned over in your anatomy book—completely naked and exposed. You gulped as you looked up to meet his eyes, 

“God, just fucking look at you. You’ve been selfish—withholding this from me.”, he groaned in a voice that instantly made you want to go feral as his eyes scanned up and down over your body. 

“I didn’t know you wanted me so badly.”, you rubbed your arm nervously. 

He chuckled sarcastically. “I have—ever since the first day you walked into my class.”

You took a few steps towards him. He opened the shower door, ready to pull you right in. 

You were just inches away from him. He leaned down as you leaned in and before you knew it, you both were sharing passionate, hungry kisses. 

“Are—you—on—birth—control?”, he asked in-between kisses. 

“Yes—the pill.”, you responded between your passionate, feverish kisses.

He nodded. “Been a naughty girl and let other boys have this before me?”, he asked, looking deep into your eyes.

You shook your head. “No, no Professor—my periods were irregular.”

He smirked as he held his hand out to help you over in the shower. You took his hand, easily stepping over into the shower. The water was still running, washing over his body. You knew your eyes were wandering, noticing how it dripped off his strong, muscular physique. You bit your lip as he smirked as you, once again running his hands through his damp, thick curly hair. 

“Let’s just get you ready for me, is that okay?”, he asked in the same way he’d ask you a question in class.

You nodded sheepishly, wondering what that entailed. 

He instructed you to turn around, before he came behind you and wrapped his arms around you, beginning to run his hands over your body. Beginning at your neck, his hands roamed down to your breasts, him instantly taking one of your nipples into his hands, pinching it and toying with it, eliciting a moan from you. You threw your head back, him placing gentle kisses on your collar bone as he hummed with satisfaction. 

“Feel good, love?”, he whispered against your skin.

You nodded breathlessly as he continued to play with your nipple. You could already feel your senses heightening. You sharply inhaled as you leaned into him, feeling his rock-hard cock poking against your delicate skin. You could feel him smirk against your collar bone as he continued to place kisses. His other free hand brushed down your stomach, and slid across your thigh edging closer to your heat. 

“You’re gonna love this.”, he promised.

“Will I?”, you sighed into his touch. 

“You’ll definitely let me know…..”, he smirked as you felt his hand move further towards you core before two of his fingers slide inside your slick, wet folds. You gasped easily, this catching you off guard. He smirked as he worked his fingers slowly in and out of your wet folds, your innocent moans filling his ears, making him that much harder against you.

“What is it, love? Those boys never pleased you like this, did they?”

You shook your head. “Haven’t—had sex.”

“No?”

“No—just touching—but it wasn’t—”

“As good as me?”, he finished for you.

You nodded. 

“This is about pleasing you and getting you ready for me——I need you fucking soaked.”

You mewled at his words, wishing he’d fuck you, here and now. You felt ready for him mentally and emotionally—but he needed you wet for him. He knew exactly what he was doing, his intentions clear. 

“What do you want?”, he whispered against your ear, sending chills down your body before placing a kiss near your ear lobe.

You hiccuped. “Fu—”

“What was that love?”, he asked teasing you, taunting you.

You gulped before trying to expel those words again. “Fu-fucked.”

You just knew a smirk went across his lips, the worlds that just rolled off your tongue making him desire you more. 

“Such a good little girl, a good little slut.”, Professor Quinn praised, sliding his fingers up and down your wet folds one more time before pulling them out abruptly almost as quickly as they had gone in, causing you to moan at his missing fingers. 

He turned you around easily by your shoulders, you seeing the fire of desire burning in his brown eyes. “God, just look at you. How fucking sexy you are all wet—quite literally for me.”

Those same brown eyes eyed you up and down before popping those two fingers in his mouth, sucking your taste off of his fingers.

“Shit, that’s so sweet.”, he eyed you.

You knew your eyes were wide—it surprised you. You had heard through Tori that a lot of men enjoyed that—enjoyed the taste of a women’s juices but you never thought your professor that you found so attractive would be doing this for you.

Once, he felt satisfied he had gotten all the taste off his fingers, he bit his lip as he began to stroke his cock, just admiring how beautiful and innocent you looked in his shower. Hair damp, water running down your body, and he knew your pussy was wet, considering his fingers just left your soaking wet, slick folds. He remembered how wet and slick you were, making his cock pulse in his hand. Even though you were just in your early twenties, he couldn’t help but look at your breasts that were so full and plump, your nipples were hard from how well he stimulated you.

It was making him feral, craving you even more. Your eyes would flip between watching him stroke himself and making eye contact with him. You couldn’t help but notice the precum already dripping off the tip of his cock. You inhaled sharply once more as your stomach was twisting with desire—the warm, aching feeling pooling in your lower stomach. You could feel your pussy throb in response. 

“Ready for me to fuck you? You’re fucking soaked. I just know you’re ready for me.”, he groaned at you.

“You think-think I am?”, you stuttered easily. 

He nodded. “I’ll show you what it feels like for a man to take care of you.”

All you could do was nod sheepishly—innocently as he came closer to you, beginning to kiss you again. He was so desperate, needy for you. His hands wandered down your body, finding their path to your ass, and lifting you up with a surprised squeal. It was like your instincts took over at that point, wrapping your legs around his waist, laying your arms over his shoulders and interlocking them behind his neck as you all broke the kiss just enough to look deeply into each other’s eyes.

“Ready, love?”

You nodded easily before nervously using a hand to slide in-between you all, grabbing his cock and giving it a slow, tantalizing stroke. This caused his breathing to hitch. You smiled, finally feeling like you were contributing to this rendezvous. You eyed him for his reaction as you slowly helped guide his cock into your absolutely soaking entrance. He kissed you again, the kiss slow and passionate as he helped push his tip inside. 

A moan left your lips as he continued to enter you slowly, pushing himself deeper inside of you. Your eyes fluttered shut, your hips bucking ever so slightly, begging him to continue to push his full length inside your throbbing, soaked, swollen pussy. 

“Need me that bad?”, he questioned as he backed you against the shower wall, your back hitting the cool tile, a gasp escaping your lips.

“Please Professor Quinn—I need you so badly.”, you whimpered, begging him so innocently.

“Need me to what, love?”, he asked. 

He saw you swallow, trying to muster up the words. “I need you—inside of me.”

He smirked before he pushed his full length completely inside of you. A gasp escaped your lips before a moan followed. You instantly felt your walls tighten around him. He chuckled, his breath warm and inviting. All the times you wore those short skirts and he wondered what was underneath had driven him crazy—almost mad. The times he jerked off in his morning shower thinking about you, he’d never reveal to you. 

Your Professor gave you a small chance to adjust to his length and width, now completely inside of you. Your eyes rolled back into your head, a sign you were ready for this—you needed this. His hips began rocking, working inside of you. Small hiccuped moans left your lips, rolling your hips into him. He used his hands to steady you both against the shower wall, groaning as he felt how full he made you. Your toes were already curling against his hips. Your kisses were passionate and full of lust. 

He broke the kiss easily, a chance for him to look at your facial expressions—how dilated your pupils were, blown out from his sex. The taste of his lips was something you instantly missed, mewling for him once more. 

“Professor…..”, you moaned.

He loved when you called him that. You trying to be proper and have good manners. 

“You’re taking me so fucking well.”, he grunted.

Your brain was becoming mush. You had been studying hard for your anatomy test and now that was all in vain. All that was going to cross your brain when you took your test was your professor fucking you senseless. But that didn’t matter right now. In his mind, he was trying to ignore the fact every time you entered his classroom, he’d be thinking about pinning you against the shower wall, buried deep in your pussy. He couldn’t help it.

“Professor—, ”, you gulped through a moan, feeling your impending orgasm quickly approaching. 

There it was, the moment he had been waiting for. He didn’t need you to tell him what was happening inside of you.

“Yes, love?”, he hummed in satisfaction, keeping his rhythm. 

Your back was arching, the last sign before your orgasm. 

“I’m gonna—gonna cum.”, you managed to get out in a squeak before you felt yourself hit your climax head on, the muscles in your pussy tightening, throbbing around his rock hard cock. 

He groaned, feeling your juices wash over him. Now, it was his turn. You felt dizzy and lightheaded as your orgasm finished washing over you. 

“Ready for me to finish—do you want it in you or want me to pull out?”, he groaned.

You nodded. “Doesn’t—doesn’t matter.”, you sighed in response, your eyes fluttering groggily. 

He smirked as you felt him fucking himself into you just a few more times before he gripped your thigh. 

“Fuck, here it comes.”

His thrusts ceased as his hips stuttered, feeling his cock pumping his cum into you, him choosing not to pull out. He knew that was probably a dumb choice but you were on the pill. You felt his cock pulsing inside of you. Your chests were heaving as he easily back you both away from the shower wall, letting your legs touch the bottom of the shower, you both feeling relief in your muscles. 

He easily slid past you to cut the shower off, grabbing two towels for you both. He wrapped one around your shoulders, giving you some early aftercare. You smiled at him, not believing this had happened between you both. The towel was warm in contrast to the cool air in the bathroom as he opened the shower door for you both to step out. 

“Let me out first so I can make sure you don’t fall getting out—you know from your weak knees.”, he teased with a smirk. 

You rolled your eyes playfully at him as he stepped out, reaching a hand out for you to take. He helped you out and you both dried off before entering his bedroom, him just grabbing a pair of his boxers. 

“Do you want another t-shirt and some of my boxers or—?”, he asked, digging in his drawers.

“That’s fine—but don’t you want me to go back to my dorm?”

He stopped immediately in his tracks. “No, it’s too late, don’t you think?”

You weren’t going to argue or dismiss an opportunity to spend the night with your hot, sexy professor who you just fucked. 

“If you’re okay with it.”

“I am.”, he eyed you, handing you another t-shirt and a pair of his boxers. 

You slid them on easily as he did the same before you both sat down on his bed. He turned the lamp off, falling back on his pillow with a soft thud. 

“Are you going to let me finish taking care of you?”, he asked softly. 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not just about sex—I want to take care of you after sex, too. However you want, cuddling whatever.”, he eyed you.

“Really?”

“Really.”, he nodded.

You hesitantly fell back against the other pillow, turning to meet him. Without any further conversation, you snuggled into him. It was comforting to have someone near you, beside of you. It didn’t take long to hear him snoring lightly. You drifted off to sleep not far behind him.

__________________________________________________________________________

The next day you returned to your dorm as if nothing happened. He had kissed you before you left, leaving you unsure of what that meant for the both of you. Tori asked where you had been and you were hesitant to tell her. Matter of fact, you didn’t. Not that you didn’t trust her but you were trying to sort your own feelings out regarding what had transpired between you both. You told her some other guy had helped you back to his place and taken care of you until you came out of your drunken stupor. Tori wanted a name, but you didn’t give her one.

You continued to study for your test over the next couple of days, trying your best to shove the night you had with your professor behind you. It was hard because every time you looked at that damn diagram in your book, you thought of him and his rock-hard cock. You went and took your test the day before you had class. It was hard to stay focused and you almost felt sure you failed it, causing you to cry and sob later that evening in private.

This evening was class and Professor Quinn’s lab would last into the night. It would be late when the class was dismissed. It was a cooler fall day, causing you to decide on jeans and a varsity sweatshirt. You felt vulnerable, you weren’t going to lie. You slid into your seat, feeling as if everyone’s eyes were on you. In the back of your mind, you knew they weren’t but it felt like you were a bug under a microscope. 

“Good evening class.”, Professor Quinn spoke confidently, unlike you felt. 

His eyes immediately fell on you, causing you to look down at your book uncomfortably. You didn’t make eye contact with him hardly at all through the rest of the class. Just when you needed to jot down notes if he drew or wrote something on the board. In the lab, he administered the quiz on the upper portion of the human skeleton. You gulped trying to focus on the skeleton in front of you instead of your professor.

Everyone handed in their tests, Professor Quinn dismissed the class. You were one of the last to turn in your test. 

“Uh Y/N, may I see you for a minute after class?”

Your heart instantly began beating faster. So fast you were afraid it would beat out of your chest.

“Yes, Professor Quinn?”, you answered respectively, barely making eye contact with him.

“Is there a reason you’re ignoring me?”, he deadpanned.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’ve ignored me since Sunday when you left. Today, you’ve barely made any eye contact with me and you didn’t answer any questions in class.”

“I’m just not—sure how to take everything.”, you admitted.

He looked up at you. “Are you still drinking?”

“No—no, haven’t touched it since that night.”, you assured him.

He nodded. 

“Have you graded my test yet?”

He shook his head. “No, not yet.”

“Okay.”, you said easily, eying the door and wondering if you could leave. 

“I know a way to see if you passed, perhaps.”

“Okay?”, you were confused.

“Go stand by the skeleton and bend over the table.”

“Um—alright.”

You were sure there was a method to his madness but you didn’t know exactly what that was. And you didn’t want to question him. Your footsteps walking across the tiled floor were the only sound you could hear. You eyed the skeleton as you did as he asked, bending over the table. It wasn’t very long before you heard his footsteps coming behind you. 

“Now, I’m going to use this ruler and point to each bone. You tell me what it is, okay?”

You nodded.

“Drop your pants and panties.”, he whispered.

“Professor—”

“Are you questioning me?”

“No, sir.”, you responded, reaching for the button of your jeans, undoing them, and dropping them to your ankles. You shimmied your panties down next, gulping. 

“Just look at your ass.”

You inhaled sharply.

“Now, if you get the answer correct, I’ll put my fingers in that pretty little pussy of yours. Answer incorrectly, and you’ll get a spanking. Understand?”

You nodded. “Yes, Professor Quinn.”

“Good, now look at the two bones in the forearm. Which is this?”, he asked, pointing to the thicker bone. 

“Radius.”, you responded, your head against the desk. 

“Very good.”, he responded as he did as he promised—the sudden sensation of both fingers in your wet folds causing you to jolt slightly, mewling under his touch. 

He hummed in satisfaction before pointing to the one beside of it. “This one?”

“Ulna.”, you moaned out, causing a smirk to spread across his face. 

“Such a good little girl.”, he responded before moving to the hand, continuing to finger you. “How about these?” 

He pointed to the tips of the skeleton’s fingers.

“Uh—carpals?”, you answered wrong just to see what would happen. 

“Incorrect, what a shame.”, he responded as his fingers left your heat, causing a whimper to escape your lips. 

He didn’t warn you before his hand met your ass—smacking it with enough force to gain a wounded whimper from you. 

“Want to try again, love? You know if you want to be spanked, you can just say so.”

He was rubbing his hand over the area he smacked causing it to tingle. 

“Phalanges.”, you relented.

“Yes, that’s it.”, he praised. “Next ones are—?”

His ruler moved up to the longer portion of the fingers.

“Metacarpals.”, you sighed.

“Yes. Very good, love.”

His fingers slid right back inside of you, your legs almost buckling under his touch. They began to work in and out of you at just the right rhythm and pace. You went on to answer every other bone he pointed to correctly, him continuing to finger you bringing you to the edge of release. He dropped the ruler on the table beside of you. 

“Want to cum for me?”

“Yes.”, you pleaded through a moan.

He chuckled. “Cum for me, cum all over my fingers.”

You felt yourself edging so close—you could taste it. Your mouth began to go dry, you biting your lip easily moaning as he worked his fingers in and out. He was so good at this. It was becoming hard to keep your orgasm in. You felt your knees buckling, and your back arching. It was time to give in to him. You needed to—you had to.

“Professor, I’m gonna——cum.”, you moaned out a final time, releasing all over his fingers, tightening your pussy around them. 

He chuckled, satisfied. He allowed you to finish your release, a sigh signaling you were finished. He grabbed your hips, keeping your legs from buckling. 

“Very good, sounds like you made an A.”, he smirked.

You turned to look at him over your shoulder. “Yeah?”

He nodded, helping you grab your panties and jeans from around your ankles. You pulled them up easily before turning around to view him. 

“Oh and you passed your reproduction test with an 89.”, he smirked.

You rolled your eyes at him. “You know we can’t let anyone know about this.”

He nodded. “In class, I have to treat you like every other student. But behind closed doors, I’m going to fuck you and adore you like the good little girl you are.”

“Promise?”

“Promise….until you pass my class.”

“You mean you’ll stop?”, you frowned, the words spilling from your mouth.

“No, not if you don’t want it to stop—it just won’t have to be so private.”, his brown eyes were soft. 

You smirked before you edged closer to him, looking up at him seductively. “Maybe I need a tutoring session this weekend.”

You brushed your hands over his chest, feeling the softness from his sweater vest, causing him to inhale sharply. 

“A long one?”

You nodded, giving him a pouty look. “I just can’t fail your class, Professor Quinn.”

His breathing hitched. “We can’t let that happen.”

You both shared a kiss, alone in the anatomy lab. You weren’t sure where this was going to go, but you just knew you weren’t ready for it to end. 

[rebelwrites]

Dreams Do Come True

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Maybe Summer Doesn’t Have To End

Summary: One phone call is all it takes for your life to change forever.

Warnings: none I don’t think

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

Nearly two weeks had now passed since you flew home from Monaco, you and Charles kept missing each other's calls so it was always a one sided conversation through voicemails between you. Each day was getting harder, you had at least managed to leave your bed.

The hot water lashing down on your skin as you stood under the shower head letting your mind replay the memories of your time spent in Monaco.

You still hadn’t heard from the Ferrari team regarding your application and you had officially lost hope and the dream was dying.

Leaning your head against the tile wall you let a few stray tears roll down your cheeks as once again your heart called out for Charles, all you wanted was to be wrapped up in his arms forgetting your worries and stresses.

The sound of a fist pounding against the bathroom door pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Re, I’m in the shower, stop trying to break my door down.” you shouted, reaching for the new showergel you brought, it was the same one Charles used so at least you could smell like him.

“This is important, so get your ass out of the shower.” She shouted, pounding her fist against the door some more.

Sighing, you put the bottle down, shutting the water off. The sound of her voice told you that she wasn’t lying. Reaching for the towels you quickly wrapped your hair up in one before wrapping the other around your body. Rena was persistent with her pounding on the bathroom door.

“Jheeze, I’m fucking coming.” you shouted, unlocking the door pulling it open. “Now what was so fucking urgent I had to cut my shower short.”

The grin on her face grew twice as big as she waved your phone in the air.

“You got a call.” she grinned, holding the phone still.

Your heart dropped as you saw ‘WITHHELD’ on the screen, your hand flew over your mouth stopping you saying anything else. You weren't expecting a call from anyone, that's when it hit you. This was the call, the one you had been waiting for.

“Don’t worry, I put them on hold.” your sister smirked, “I had a feeling you would be a potty mouth and didn’t think it was a good look. Now take a deep breath and take the call.”

Swiping the phone from her you retreated back to your bedroom, perching on the edge of your bed as you took the call off hold.

“Hi, Y/N Y/L/N speaking, thank you for holding.” you said, trying to sound as professional as possible, not like someone who was just crying in the shower.

“How are you doing Y/N.” the voice on the other end of the phone answered, it was the same lady that rang you for your phone interview.

“I’m good, thank you.”

“I’m glad to hear,” she said with a cheery tone. “But I think I might make your day just that little bit better.” You could hear the smile in her voice. “We reviewed your application and went back over your phone interview and we are extremely excited to be able to offer you the job as the social media manager here within the scuderia Ferrari F1 Team. We also had a look at your instagram and we are very impressed with your photography.”

“Oh wow.” you breathed taking a second to process what she had said, once your brain had caught up you started speaking again. “Thank you so much, I was starting to lose hope due to my lack of languages.”

“At first we were concerned, but your work speaks for itself and we spoke to your old boss who sung nothing but your praises.” she said softly. “We would be stupid to let someone as talented as you slip through our fingers, and I am sure that once you are around the team you would start to pick up things quickly.”

“Thank you once again,” you breathed, running your hand over your face, you needed to stop your heart from pounding against your chest but the excitement coursing through your body was too much.

“No need to thank us, I will email over all the information that you will need. We would like you to start as soon as possible so you will fly out to Italy tomorrow morning as we think the perfect time to put your skills and magic to the test will be the release of the special livery and race attire for the Monza grand prix.” the lady said.

“That sounds perfect.” you grinned, right now you felt like a child on Christmas morning.

“Enjoy the rest of your day Miss Y/L/N and we will see you in Italy tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

The line went dead and you spent the next few minutes staring at your phone screen. Once you had finally caught up with what had just happened you quickly threw on a pair of leggings and Charles hoodie. The moment you pulled the hoodie over your body Rena quickly barged into your room, causing you to look up at her with tears in your eyes.

“So?” she asked, raising her brows at you.

“I GOT THE FUCKING JOB!” you squealed.

The moment the words left your lips she tackled you in a tight hug. “I told you that you can fucking do it, kiddo.” she said excitedly. “You just needed to have a little faith.”

Once you had come down to earth a little you flopped on your bed, staring at the ceiling as happy tears streamed down your cheeks. Never in a million years you thought this would happen to you but your heart was beating twice as fast when you realised what this meant.

You would be reunited with Charles.

-

You were on cloud nine as you and the girls were strolling around the shopping centre, this was the perfect excuse for a shopping trip and the girls refused to let you pay stating this was their treat and you weren’t allowed to use your savings. You had managed to let them agree to you buying coffee at least.

“Are you going to tell Charles?” Jessie asked as she sat down in the booth with the tray of your drinks.

“I was but then I changed my mind.” you laughed, taking your coffee off the tray, ripping open the sugar packets. “I want to surprise him before the start of practice one.”

“So how will this work?” Holly asked, raising her brow at you.

“I had a quick read of the information pack that I was sent and I won’t be at any of the photoshoots this week but all the images and videos will be sent to me and I will be in charge of scheduling etc but for the first couple of days I will be shadowing someone before I fully taken the reins.” you beamed, fiddling with the sleeves of Charles’ hoodie.

You couldn’t wait to be reunited with Charles, the thought alone was getting you through the day. You had it planned perfectly in your head, you weren't going to tell him you were just going to walk into the garage and let it go from there. You were so ready to stop living your life with him through voicemails.

“And what about you and Charles?” Rena asked, “Do they know that you two have a thing going on?”

“Yeah, when I got the info pack with my contract, flights and schedule I came clean and told them that I had a relationship with Char over the summer and that it would possibly continue.” you nodded, taking a sip of your coffee. “They were happy that I told them and as long as it doesn’t affect our jobs then they are okay with it.”

With each second that passed your smile was getting wider, your heart was beating faster and your excitement was growing.

Once again you found yourself staring at your passed cases that were sitting by the door, you had a rush of deja vu but at least this it wouldn’t leave you heartbroken.

You had checked your bags and documentation a million times wanting to make sure that you hadn’t forgotten anything.

This was finally the new start that you needed.

“You ready?” Rena asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“I think so.” you hummed looking up at her with tears in your eyes for the second time today. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Hey, we will have no tears.” she whispered, strolling across the room, pulling you into a tight embrace. “You have landed your dream job and in a few days you will be reunited with your dream man. I am the proudest big sister in the world right now.” As she pulled away from the hug you saw her goofy smile causing you to burst out laughing. “Now come on, get that ass moving, you have a flight to catch and you are sure as hell not going to be late.”

As you gathered your bags and cases, you took one final look around your apartment taking it in for one last time. It was going to be a while before you would be back here but you were so ready for the next chapter of your life and ready to start this amazing adventure or travelling the world with Ferrari.

Charles was right you just needed to have faith in yourself because dreams do come true.

-

Charles found himself alone again, he knew he was just torturing himself by scrolling through your Instagram. There have been a few new posts today. The one thing that he noticed was how bright your smile was, it was a smile that melted his heart. You were happy and that was all that mattered. The picture was of you, your sister and your friends, his heart was racing at how bright your smile was. Dropping his gaze to the caption he was intrigued.

Last night with the girls before I start my big adventure tomorrow

Raising his brow at the screen he had no idea what your adventure was but he clicked onto your stories to see that you were at the airport, now he wanted to know where you were going. Swiping off Instagram he checked to see if he had any missed calls or voicemails from you.

But he had nothing.

Throwing his phone onto the bed he flopped down staring at the ceiling. His heart was heavy as a few tears rolled down his cheeks, he should have been bouncing of the walls as Monza was the next race, and it was set to be a good one with the celebration of Ferraris the new livery and race suits but he couldn’t find it in his heart to get excited about the race.

His thoughts were disturbed as Pierre walked into the room, completely focused on his phone. His fingers darted across the screen as he smirked to himself.

“Qu'est-ce qui te rend si heureux ? What makes you so happy?” Charles asked, sitting up so he was at the end of the bed.

“Nothing you need to worry about.” Pierre winked, locking his phone before tucking it into his jeans pocket.

“Liar,” Charles half laughed. “You seem to have forgotten that we have been friends for so long that I know when you are lying.”

“Rena, just texted me.” He hummed, he had to think of something that would sound believable and Charles knew that he had a crush on your older sister. But in reality you were texting him, telling him that you were planning on surprising Charles at first practice.

“Oh okay.” Charles sighed, checking his phone once again but there still wasn’t a text from you. “Has Rena said where Y/N is heading, she’s put on insta she’s at an airport but didn’t say where she was going.”

“No she’s not mentioned it.” Pierre shrugged, trying to hide the fact he knew exactly where you were heading. “Now come on, we both have photoshoots to get to.”

Charles nodded at his friend, reaching for the sun glass off the small table before pushing himself to his feet. Glancing in the mirror he couldn’t help but laugh at his appearance, his hair was messy but the stylist would sort that out and it was obvious he wasn’t sleeping well by the dark circles appearing under his eyes. Whoever was editing these photos for the new race suit would have their work cut out for them.

His mind was spinning as he mentally planned how he was going to surprise you during the 2 week break after Monza. He desperately needed to see you even if it meant flying over to the UK to do so. But little did he know he would be seeing you sooner than he planned.

@chibsytelford @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @stillbreathin @angywritesstuff @miamedyu @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @micks-afterglow @livo676 @buendiabebeta @pleasedontfollowinlost @ferrarifwendvale @hungryhungarian @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @sunf1owerrq

[jangofctts]

Dying For (Adrian Chase/Vigilante x fem!reader)

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 6.2k 

Warnings: smut, explicit language, mentions of stalking, Adrian has a praise kink (also a bit of a sub here), mentions of blood/injury, stitches, mentions of violence, vaginal fingering, handjobs, blowjobs, thigh riding, (lmk if I missed anything please!!)

You awake to the sound of shattering glass.  

Fucking great. 

The one time you’re home alone, house sitting for you parents, shit like this happens—

You throw your comforter off in a great flourish and vault from your bed. Goobie, your parent’s old, wrinkly basset hound, one wrong breath away from yeeting off this mortal coil, begins to bay at the foot of your bed. Chilly air caresses your bare thighs, the hardwood floors turning your toes to ice. You grab your brother’s baseball bat that rests besides your dresser as Goobie howls at the door. More glass splinters and cracks, stemming from the living room.    

A life in Evergreen is never overwhelmingly busy—especially without a job. Only thing you frequently find yourself doing nowadays is participating in a long standing rivalry between you, a broom, and and the congregation of overly curious raccoons that have sequestered themselves in your backyard. One night—one fucking night you left out a box of Cheez-Its and now they think it’s easy pickings—  

They’ve grown bold, you think, to physically manifest inside your living room. It’s fine. Totally cool. 

Except—

As you open your door, dressed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shitty underwear, prepared to beat back the surge of grubby, little thieves, you’re met with—

Well…you’re not really sure what you’re looking at, to be quite frank. 

Something, or rather someone is crawling through your living room window. They’re muttering curses under their breath, swiping away glass that clinks to the floor and flopping around like a strange fish as they try to wedge themselves into the frame. The strangest part, and not that break-ins are necessarily normal, is that the perpetrator in question is dressed in a black and blue tactical suit.  

Oh, this is way worse than the fucking raccoons—   

You’ve seen this fucker on the news. 

His thigh gets stuck, flung forward by momentum then hangs by his calf, head skimming the floor. “Should’ve skipped leg day,” he grumbles to himself. With his other boot, he pushes against the inside frame and heaves himself in—he falls to the floor in a tangled heap, a wheezy oof following the mass of limbs and scuffed armor.   

Why you let this man fully break into your house instead of just cutting to the chase and beating the ever loving shit out of him? A wonderful question that no doubt needs some serious psychological review on your part.  

You smack the light switch as Goobie yips and wags his tail. The man startles. “Wait—”

Panic kickstarts your heart as Vigilante struggles to his feet, raising his hands in surrender. Still groggy with sleep, punchy with adrenaline, and overwhelmed by Goobie’s animated howling—it’s a lovely cocktail of stupidity. 

You launch yourself forward and swing your bat. The carbon fiber whizzes over his head��he ducks and whips his head towards you. The red visor glints as he jabs an accusing finger in your direction. “Not cool!” 

In the blink of an eye, his rough glove latches to your wrist, the other posting under your forearm. The delicate bones and tendons compress and twist as Vigilante squeezes your wrist. The bat clatters to the floor. You throw an elbow back that connects with his ribs. He grunts, readjusts his grip, and throws you to the floor. Vigilante goes down with you. 

He wrestles you into a headlock—both arms hooked under yours, his hands using your head as an anchor to keep you from wiggling free. You screech and kick your legs back—he readjusts by interlacing his leg over on of yours and pulling it back towards him. Your heart pounds, blood roaring in your ears. You’re completely immobilized—

“Y’know, you could’ve seriously maimed me,” Vigilante gripes right beside your ear.  

“That was the point, asshole!”

He clicks his tongue. “That sounds salty. Kinda like kettle corn—”

You test the man’s hold. Not a budge and Goobie is no help. “Kettle corn?”

“Yeah!” He agrees. “Because you’re also sweet—jeez. Don’t you even eat kettle corn?” 

What the fuck! Here, you are, getting choked out while your assailant compares you to fucking kettle corn. Hot tears prick at your eyes, panic welling in your chest that squeezes around your lungs like a vice.     

Goobie, the betrayer, waddles over, non-plussed about this entire misfortunate event. His droopy face and rheumy, brown eyes slide into view above you. Strings of drool dribble out of his jowls and land over your forehead. Goobie whines and then uses your head as a step stool, the force of his wagging tail making his entire body wiggle. He presses his little, black nose to Vigilante’s mask, right where the outline of his ears stick out under the fabric, and sniffs. An excited boof rumbles through Goobie’s chest, pink and black spotted tongue rolling over the man’s covered face.

Vigilante jerks his head to escape Goobie’s affectionate kisses. “Blegh—Goobie, your breath is rank—”

Goobie harrumphs, steps off your head and toddles away, trimmed nails clicking on the hardwood floor. How in the fuck— 

Wait—you know that voice. 

You stop struggling. 

“Adrian?”

“One and only,” Adrian Chase confirms. You can hear the smile in voice as cool relief surges through your veins. “Seriously, Ducky—what are you feeding him? Your boy’s got a mad case of ball breath—wait—fuck.” Adrian drops his voice to a comical drawl and backtracks. “Who’s Adrian—Vigilante could be any—"

As Adrian’s grip relaxes, you claw yourself out of his headlock, spin around and throw your arms around his neck. Adrain wheezes, pinned between the floor and your body, head tucked right under his chin. He’s stiff, at a loss for words and action—but slowly and surely, his arms fold over your body to return the haphazard hug. His palm gingerly smooths over your shoulder blade as he tucks his head over yours. Adrain’s breathing skips into a choppy cadence. He’s never been an expert at returning sudden physical affection—it’s gotten better throughout the years growing up though. 

Just as he tightens the hug, you break away and assist him into a sitting position. He still wears his mask. You frown and reach up to cup his covered face—you can’t see past his visor. “Adrian…are these prescription?” 

He nods, shoulders perking. “Uh, yeah—of course they are. What else would I use? Contacts? Those things melt to your eyes, y’know.”  

Your brows furrow. He’s been reading those shitty tabloids again—or found his way onto Reddit. God forbid. “They don’t…whatever. Doesn’t matter.”

Adrian pulls his mask off his head. Your heart twists inside your chest. He hasn’t changed at all—soft brown hair that sticks up at odd angles due to the mask, dimples, his quirky smile you think about a little too much. He reaches around his belt to fish out his glasses from one of the compartments. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his arched nose, smiles, and waves his hands in a sort of ta-da motion. “Surprise! It was me all along!” 

Your eyes rove over your long time friend. It should concern you, terrify you even, that there is dried blood beneath Hello Kitty band-aids that litter his skin, some of it from his split knuckles and some of it from unknown origins. Fists like rusted switchblades in search for infamy, justice, something wild and deeper than skin. It’s always been there, Adrian’s warrior heart, nestled between an ivory ribcage and a righteous soul. And in the same breath, he’s forever been a sweet kid—a little odd, granted, but you love him just the same. This violence…is nothing but a negative output of Chris Smith’s direct influence and Adrian’s devotion. 

Secrets, you’ve found, do not hide in shadows. They hide in the glaring light of day and pass unnoticed due to willful ignorance that you too have fallen victim to. You should’ve known. It makes sense that Adrian and Vigilante are one and the same.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Ducky?” Adrian asks, butting through your thoughts. He’s adopted the idea that justice proceeds any sort of cost. You work your jaw. “Do I have something in my teeth?”   

Adrian scrubs a gloved finger over his teeth. He kills people. And yet…it doesn’t scare you. Doesn’t entice you to call the police or worry for your own life. You run a hand over your face, rubbing away the last dregs of sleep. You sigh. Curse your compassionate soul.   

“Adrian,” you begin, heart jumping as he smiles, “what the actual fuck are you doing in my house?”

His brows furrow. “Didn’t you read my text?”

“It is three in the morning, dude.” 

Adrian makes a noise of discontent and fishes his phone out of his utility belt. He scoots closer to you and presents his phone. His lock screen is a strange, poorly photoshopped, collage of his face, Chris’, yours and Matt (your older brother). All of his favorite people, he once explained to you. He slides his thumb up the screen and shows you the evidence. You quirk a brow. The text is just a bunch of emojis.

“How would I even begin to decipher that?” You ask, puzzled. 

Adrian rolls his eyes and points to each one as if this were common sense and not a shitty game of pictograph. “C’mon, dude, it’s simple! Coming to your house. Need medical attention. Going through window.”

You blink and scratch at your jaw. “So instead of going to a hospital you broke in?” 

“You’re a doctor,” he says, satisfaction lacing his words.   

“I am a veterinarian—those are not the same,” you huff in disbelief. You cross your arms over your chest, eyeing him with a stern glare. “You scared the shit out me—and you broke my window.”    

Adrian shrugs. He knows you won’t ever set your foot down when it comes to him—not entirely. “I’ll just buy you a new one—by the way, you should really get a security system or something. Who knows who’ll crawl through your window next.”  

You fix him with a long, tired stare. “Well, gee—I sure hope it’s not a masked madman.” 

“That’s what I’m saying!” Adrian cries, throwing up his hand. The jokes flies over his head, as does most sarcasm. “I can’t let my best friend get hurt.” He pauses for a second. “Don’t tell Peacemaker I said that—he still thinks I’m his number one BFF.” 

You pause for another moment and bite your tongue. Adrian mutters under his breath about his back needing stitches, how the fabric of his suit will probably stain.  

“Fine. Let’s fix you up,” you sigh as if this is more trouble than it’s worth. It’s not. “Stay here while I get my stuff.”  

You grab your medical supplies from the bathroom down the hall. When you return, you startle and throw your hand over your eyes. Adrian Chase has stripped all the way down to his unicorn patterned boxers and pink ankle socks. He reclines on your couch like some sort of sexy fireman calendar. “Oh, dude—what the fuck?”

“What?” Adrian scoffs, not in the least bit embarrassed. You peek through your fingers. “I got slashed in the back—how are you supposed to stitch me up without seeing my bod, Ducky? Xray vision? Also—you’re literally just wearing underwear. We’re twinning now.”

Adrian makes a fair argument. You grumble a curse under your breath and wander to his side. He’s just another patient, nothing more. Right. You set your med bag onto the coffee table with a plunk and settle behind him. The couch gives under your weight. Oof—whoever did this—they got him good. Nothing you can’t fix, though. 

You sterilize the area, curiosity brewing in your mind. With a little prompting, Adrian will gladly share. He’s bad at keeping secrets—at lying too. “What happened?”

Adrian cranes his neck to look at you. You gently order him not to move so much as you clean up the smaller cuts. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you! Ugh, I’m such a silly goose. Peacemaker is out of jail! And now we’re on a task force saving the—well that’s private information. Definitely not for plebs or civilians like you. Not that you’re a pleb—you’re way cooler than that.”

You sour at the mention of Chris. Didn’t he have a thirty year sentence? Last time you checked, it’s only been four years since he was arrested. “You’re working with Chris?”

You don’t mean for your words to hold such venom. Adrian shoots you a look and holds up his lean hands. “Woah, hold your horses sourpuss. I’m sensing some unresolved tension here.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” you mumble. You rub your eyebrow with the back of your hand and stick a bandaid onto a bleeding cut right under his left scapula. “I just…I don’t like how he treats you.”

It’s a strange relationship you have with Chris. You grew up with the guy, following your brother and Adrian around as they followed him. It’s where the nickname comes from—little ducky always waddling after the the gaggle of boys. Always looking after them because your mother told you so. A piteous effort to save Chris from his own family that never really worked out in the end. He’s never been grateful for the extended hands offering salvation. He’d rather use and take advantage of friends and keep them in a six foot radius, fending everyone off with a red-hot poker.

The surface anger still lingers. You don’t understand why Adrian can’t see that Chris would first sacrifice him then think of the consequences, of Adrian as a living, breathing person—just another bloodstain on the hem of Chris’ sleeve. Chris is an open wound with no intention of getting better, but even still, deep in your heart, you hope he finds peace.          

“Well it’s not like I could hang out with anyone else, Ducky,” Adrian sighs, muscle and sinew coiling under his freckled skin as he exhales. His shoulders pull forward. His words sting your heart, bitter guilt welling upon your tongue. “Matt left, and then you did too.”

“Yeah,” you admit quietly. “I did.”

You walked right through that door while Adrian kept keeping one the wrong side of the street, and believing in the make believe. Adrian is easy to forgive and forget, but even so, the silver knife of your absence cut deeper into his heart than you ever intended. 

You stuck around as long as you could stomach—Evergreen is a backwater shithole in the buttfuck middle of nowhere Washington. Once you earned enough credits you fled to Gotham, got into the university’s uppity veterinarian school, and scored a job right out of school. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to you, the whole fucking animal clinic had been a money laundering guise for Roman Sionis. Worst fucking mistake you ever made in your entire life. You were nothing short of a hostage, employed to care for all of his and his minion’s exotic pets. 

Thank god for Harley Quinn. Your unlikely hero. 

And now you’re back—

You hated the city anyway…plus your best friend is here too. That doesn’t sound too bad, does it?

You sigh. “I got fired, y’know,” not the whole truth. You don’t want to stress him out. “You don’t have to worry about me leaving again.”  

“Well that’s stupid—I bet you were way too sexy to work there anyway.”

You laugh and focus your attention on the wound that needs stitching. 

Adrian bounces his leg, jumpy under your touch as you clean the edges of the wound with alcohol wipes. It’s a force of habit to run the flat of your palm down his side—all your patients are animals—soothed by gentle pats and kind words. It’s not your fault you regress into muscle memory. You mistake the rush of goosebumps covering Adrian’s back and the rigid way he holds himself, to be fear. Apprehension of the needle—        

You rub your palm in gentle circles over the little bump at the top his spine. “Relax, Adrian.”

A harsh stream of air punches free from his diaphragm. “Sorry—I’m not scared—I pinky promise. This is like a paper cut. Your hands are just…your hands are cold. You need some of those hand warmer thingies.”

They are a bit chilly. Nonetheless, Adrian does eventually settle amidst his stream of babbling. As the sharp needle hooks into his skin, you blunt the pain with something equally as soft; “Good boy.”

His entire body tenses, ramrod stiff. Adrian audibly gulps, deft hands clawing into the flesh of his thighs. His nails leave behind moon shaped indents. Hm. You cruise through suturing up his wound, mumbling little praises here and there. You finish by taping a gauze pad over the wound.  

“All done,” you chirp, patting his shoulder. Adrian says nothing, a little hunched, muscle and sinew pulled taught. Another set of goosebumps erupt under your hand as your thumb rubs circles over a patch of freckles. “Are you ok?”

Adrian jerks to attention. His green eyes side eye you. “What? Me? Yeah, totally—just peachy. A-ok—fantastic in fact. No problemo. How’re you?”

His hands slide into his lap, shielding something from your keen eyes. Oh. You get it now. Fuck—you’re an idiot. Even in high school, the mildest positive comment had Adrian blushing redder than a tomato. Yet, in high school you weren’t exactly rubbing your hands all over his bare back while whispering praise, easily misinterpreted as dirty talk. 

You chew the inside of your cheek. You’re faced with the tipping point, a pivotal decision laid out before you. You could walk away, feign innocence and pretend this never happened. Or…      

“Adrian,” you hum, gliding you fingers down his shoulder. You launch yourself from the edge of a knife and into the flames of the unknown below. Dangling your beating heart above his blunt teeth—you know he’ll bite down. You risk mouthing a kiss to the freckled skin over the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He jumps, bitting back a groan. “Tell me what’s going on.”   

It’s as if a dam cracks and bursts from his mouth. “Shit—my dick has never been this hard in my entire life. It’s so fucking unfair how pretty your voice is. ‘Specially when you say sweet shit to me—“

Adrian twists his head around and catches you off guard with a haphazard kiss. His glasses bump against your cheek. It’s brief due to the awkward angle, but fuck. It’s scalding—instantly addicting and leaving you craving for more. He kisses your jawline, hot breath fanning over your flushed skin. “Seriously. You could talk about anything and I’d get turned on—you ever think about being a phone girl? I’d call you all the time—“

You roll your eyes and slide your hand around his chest. Your fingers travel down his firm chest and down the muscled outline of his abdomen. Adrian’s words hiccup. You smirk. “Do you want something?” 

You can only see a bit of his face from this angle, pressed against his back, careful to avoid his freshly stitched wound. His chest contracts with a stuttered exhale. You hear him loud and clear as he opens his mouth, voice barely above a breath but still firm in nature.  “Yeah. Go lower—fuck, please go lower.”

Arousal ricochets through your veins. Slowly, your fingers whisper down the sharp protrusion of his hip bone to toy with is his boxers. A quick adjustment, and he’s bare enough to not hinder you. Your hand tickles down his navel, then wraps around his flushed cock. Both of Adrian’s hands instantly punch out to grab the couch in a death grip. He releases a tight, longing moan, and you feel almost as desperate as he sounds. You swallow—the tips of your fingers barely touch. He’s long too—the velvety skin sliding up his hardened cock as you glide your hand up to the tip. You roll the pad of your thumb over the leaking slit. Your palm comes away slick.

Thick and heavy in your hand, he’s already throbbing, pale chest heaving. “Oh, fuck—goddamn.”

Your tongue laves over his cherry red ear and later your teeth nip at the rounded cartilage. His hips are jumping to meet the warm pressure of your fist, but with a gentle coo, Adrian melts. “That’s it—there’s no rush.”

Your fingers rest gently along his pulsing shaft. You slide your thumb up to the tip, just barely angled to delicately brush up under his frenulum. Adrian shudders and makes a choking noise behind clenched teeth. “I take it back—you’re nothing like kettle corn. You’re like…fuck—I can’t even think right now.”

You start to slowly work the length of him and squeeze his cock a bit more firmly. You flatten your other palm over his stomach and trail it up to his chest, fingers finding his perked nipples. Adrian whines, cock twitching in your hand as you pinch his nipples between your finger and thumb. “You look so nice like this, Adrian.”  

“Ducky,” he whimpers. He pants into the crook of your neck. “I used to…I used to watch you through your window. You’re so fucking hot, I couldn’t help myself.” 

The admittance isn’t surprising. Everyone and their mom knows about Adrian’s long standing infatuation with you. “I know. You always wore that dumb sweatshirt—you looked like a goon.”

“Your brother got so mad,” Adrian gasps up at you, eyes tightly shut and handsome features screwed up in ecstasy. “It really threw the vibes off for the next D&D session—worth it though. You got a stellar ass.”

You bite your lip, cunt clenching between your legs, feeling oh so empty. Your wetness dampens the fabric of your underwear and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to swing your leg over his thighs and ride him. This is for Adrian. An apology of sorts. “So do you.” 

“Fuck,” he groans, slumping further against your chest. You fall into an easy pace of rolling your fist up and down his cock, eased by the precum dribbling over your knuckles. “Fuck, this feels so good—can we do this all the time?”

You nod and press kisses into his hairline and dip your head to nuzzle into his neck. You smirk and touch your lips to his unsuspecting throat and bite down upon his flesh right under his jaw. Adrian’s hands fly behind him to claw at your legs, his adam’s apple bobbing along the arching line of his throat as he groans and twists his head to the side. His cock jumps in your grip as you squeeze him at the base. “I’m gonna cum—Jesus Christ, you’re driving me fucking crazy. Usually it takes longer when I’m the one jerking myself off.” 

You chuckle and lave your tongue over the purple teethmarks you’ve created. You hold him like this, not budging an inch no matter how much he twitches and whines for you to bring him to his end. “Just breathe,” you encourage. He mellows out. “Such a good boy for me.” 

It’s a damn near impossible task to uncurl your fingers from Adrain’s cock—what with the way a long, pained whine leaves his chest. “No—please. I’m your good boy, right? Fuck, I’ll do anything for you—”

“Chill out,” you say, shoulders bouncing in a quiet laugh. “I’m gonna make this better for you.”

“Better?” Adrian scoffs, allowing you to slide out behind him and position his back against the couch cushions. “I don’t know what’s better than a sexy vet touching my dick—”  

You grab him by the cheeks and crash your lips onto his. Everything falls away—you’ve never gotten so lost in a kiss before. The tender space between you explodes in a symphony of golden light and childhood wishes.Your heart keeps missing beats and your hands cannot bring him close enough You both moan as he parts his lips, tenderly exploring the taste of your tongue. The overly sugary taste of a blue raspberry slushy lingers on his tongue—his favorite treat to have on Thursdays. The kiss overall is a little sloppy and unpracticed—drool stains your chin and sometimes your teeth clack together, but fuck. You don’t care. It’s sweet and addicting— 

His hands find your shoulders, pushing you back far enough so that he can see you. Fuck, he’s wrecked. Messy curls, teased by your clawing fingers hang over his forehead, a rosy flush over his skin, glasses fogged up in the bottom corners. You cup his cheek—he leans into your touch and plants a fleeting kiss over your palm. 

“You’re so pretty, y’know that?” You blurt—and it’s true. So devastatingly true. 

Adrian blinks. A wide, goofy grin splits across his face revealing his dimples. “I know, right? I’m basically an 80s Hollywood heartthrob.”

“You were born in the 90s,” you snicker, leading him into another kiss. You part and trail a lazy path full of kisses and flicks of your tongue down his toned body You slide to the floor, nestling between his spread legs. “What movie were you thinking?” 

You touch a tentative palm over his knee. Adrian’s tongue flicks over his bottom lip. “Die Hard—only the best Christmas movie there ever is—obviously.”

Tracks. 

You glide your palm over his inner thigh—Adrian’s inhale is sharp when your fingers meet the crease of where his thigh meets his groin. “Holy shit—are you gonna blow me?”

You huff, glad it’s finally clicked in his brain. “Yes, Adrian.” 

“Wicked.”

His leg jolts as your teeth descend over the meat of his inner thigh, little nips and fluttering kisses that trail up towards your prize. The tip of his cock is flushed a scarlet red, leaking and begging for your touch. There’s a light blue vein that runs on the underside of his cock and ends right below the head. Your thighs clench together.  

Adrian’s moan echoes loudly through the house as the soft warmth of your mouth slips over the flushed tip of cock, his thick length twitching as you hollow out your cheeks and swallow him down. His fingers aren’t gentle as they fist into your hair, like he’s trying to stave off the urge of shoving you down on him and fucking your mouth. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and whine, the ache in your jaw spreading up throughout the joints as you take him deeper, the tip brushing against the soft pallet of your soft throat. He is not a small man. Adrian’s legs twitch as he rolls his head back agains the couch. “Feels s’good—you’re so fucking good at giving head.”

Your muffled moan rattles through your vocal cords in response, the overworked tendons pulling at the added stress. Adrian’s babbling encouraging your drive to take him all the way—make him spiral into madness all in the name of you. 

Adrian whimpers his approval and rolls his hips, pushing the rest of himself into your mouth. Your nose brushes against his groin as he combs his shaking fingers through your hair, an inch away from imploding or cumming—maybe both.

You pull back, a burst of cool air rushing back into your lungs. You pump his cock, shinning with your saliva, and rest your head on his thigh. Adrian’s head tips forward, eyes hazy and pupils blown wide with arousal. His lips part, Adam’s apple bobbing. You smile. “Feel good?”

Adrian bobs his head. “Fuck yeah it does—I’m so fucking in love with you—I want your mouth on me all the time.”

You snicker and slip his cock back into your mouth. You take it slow this time—taking only half of him while your hand does the rest. Adrian rocks his hips, helping you ease into the gentle pace. Saliva drips down his cock and over your hand, pooling onto the couch. You can’t find it in you to give a singular fuck—you just pray no one will pay any mind to it later.

Both your hands sweep up to explore the taught, flexing muscles of his thighs then around to the swell of his hips. Adrian swears, words slurring as you squeeze his hips, dragging him closer. Adrian murmurs your name, the pitch of his words reduced to an airy beg. Your eyes roll up to meet his half opened eyes. “Ah, fuck—I’m cumming—shit!”

You blink and swallow around him, grunting at the abrupt jolt of his hips. You can feel his cock twitching over you tongue. A couple more choppy thrusts and he’s gone. You rest the head of his cock on the bed of your tongue—his eyes screw shut, soft mouth hanging open as his hands tangle and twist in your hair. Adrian’s entire body shudders as warm streams of his release spurt against the roof of your mouth.

“Fuck—fuck,” Adrian hisses, arching his hips to chase after the last dregs of his pleasure. “You’re amazing—so fucking hot with my dick in your mouth—Christ.”

His release is thick and plentiful and dribbles out of your mouth and over his groin. You swallow it all. When the last few jittery rolls of his hips come to a complete stop, his chest heaves as he mutters out a litany of praise, his hands falling lax. You slip him out of your mouth, a proud smile lingering on your lips. 

The ache between your legs nearly hurts with how worked up you’ve gotten. Underwear soaked through and ruined. Fuck—this isn’t about you. You stumble to your feet—Adrian grabs your arm and wrenches you down to meet him in an obscene kiss. It’s wet, probing and uncaring that he can taste himself on your tongue. Sparks of raw energy, crackles through your abdomen as he pulls you onto his lap, devouring whatever you have to offer him. His forehead, humid with perspiration, rests on yours as his breath fans over your lips. 

Adrian’s hands find the swell of your ass and give the rounded globes a solicitous squeeze. “Your mouth is perfect for blowjobs—only mine though. I don’t really want to share you—I’ve had dibs on you since, like, middle school—“

You silence Adrian with a kiss. It does the trick. Yet, as Adrian moans into your mouth, kiss growing more heated, your willpower at denying yourself pleasure extinguishes like a candle to wind. You drop your mouth to the crook of his neck, bite at his throat while reaching for his stationary hand. Adrian allows you to drag his fingers to the crux of your thighs, he curses upon feeling your slickness. 

“Look how wet you got me, baby,” you whine into his ear. He shivers and runs his fingertips along the wet fabric—the pressure is torturous. It’s a shame he’s still soft and recovering from his previous orgasm. Fingers are well and good, but you’d prefer something thicker. An idea pops into your head. “Lemme ride your thigh.”

“Hell yeah,” Adrian agrees. He keeps his hands on any part of you he can reach as you adjust and slide your soaked panties off your legs. You straddle one of his thighs. “Who knew you were such a horndog, Ducky—it’s always the quiet ones, huh.” 

“You’re the horndog,” you mutter as a fierce blush heats your cheeks. He parts his lips, but you’re quicker on the draw. You stuff the fabric of your underwear into his mouth. His eyes widen. “Shut up—good boys are quiet.”

His groan is muffled by the fabric, eyes fluttering shut. With an irritated huff you plant one hand on his chest, the other against the back of the couch as you give your hips an experimental roll. The hard surface of his leg is instantly coated with your wet heat. Your teeth clamp down onto your bottom lip, your arousal is surging and overflowing your entire being as you receive the friction your body craves.

Your cunt drags over the rock solid muscle, squeaking every time Adrian bounces his leg. Bastard. Slowly, you careen into the edges of madness and your desire. Honey sweet and golden, you’d liver in this moment if you could. Your fluid movements are harshly interrupted as Adrian looses his patience. His large, calloused hands clamp over the swell of your hips, setting a rougher pace; brutal and choppy that’s got you reeling in a burst of dizzying ecstasy. You’re not doing much at this point—fuck—he’s forcing out your pleasure with each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh. You can feel your own sticky warmth coating his skin and giving away just how fucking wrecked you are.

Your head rolls back onto your shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. “Adrian—this—fuck.”

The touch of his fingers against your aching clit sends an electric volt from the base of your spine to your brain. Holy shit. You never stop rocking back and forth against Adrian’s thigh, keening as Adrian’s index and middle finger act as the perfect toy to grind on. Your clit, swollen and throbbing catch on the digits and fuck—this feels so fucking good. 

You still as his two fingers slide past your clit and press at your entrance, circling around your clenching cunt. You whimper and fall forward into his chest, digging your nails into Adrian’s firm chest. He huffs through your panties still stuffed in his mouth.

“Making me feel so good, Adrian—fuck. Put your fingers in me.”

You don’t care that you sound desperate and fucked out. All you care about are those thick, calloused fingers pushing into your cunt. Your lower half is twitching, yearning for him as he finally does so. 

It doesn’t take you long—you’re more worked up than you thought. Adrian’s fingers are long and curl deliciously against that electric patch of nerves. It’s all he does for you, allowing you to fuck yourself onto the digits as his thumb rubs a patterned shape over your clit. He mumbles your name, distorted by the fabric.

Everything tightens up stiffer than a fucking rod of steel as your tumble off that aching cliff of white hot pleasure. It doesn’t start from your toes and steadily work its way up—no. It’s raw, sparking off like firecrackers and burning you from the inside out. Your core clamps down on his fingers, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Shit—it feels like you were thrown into a vat of molten lava.

Your face is smooshed against his chest, involuntary tears pricking at your eyes as the last little waves of pleasure fan out and fry the rest of your nerves. You whine as he removes his hand from your pulsing core, reaching up to remove his makeshift gag to taste his arousal slick fingers. Adrian’s appreciative moan, rumbles thorough his chest. 

“Sit on my face next time,” he all but begs. “You taste so fucking good.” 

You breathe out a laugh. “Whatever you want, Adrian.”   

“I already told you,” he says matter of factly. “I want you."

You nuzzle into his neck, breathing in his scent. You press a kiss to his collarbone. He has a scar there, still pink. “You already have me, silly.” 

“Oh.” 

A rare, comfortable silence blankets the both of you. You draw patterns into his skin while he buries his nose into your hair and runs his hands down your back, still covered by your shirt. You can still feel the warmth of his palms. You try not to think of the dangers that come with loving him. This goofy, dangerous man living a second life, hungry mouth burning for a scrap of praise, blazing for a shard of love. To move inches from a bonfire is always a risk, but you have never been one to shy away from something that needs tending to. Clever, tender, hands that stitch up needing skin. You’ll always be his and he yours. It’s just how things go—how they have always been.      

Adrian shifts his arm and thumbs the lace on the seam of your underwear. “I’m keeping these.” 

Hm. 

[icey--stars]

Stories To Be Told: PART 3

Series Index

A shadowsinger, a warrior, an Illyrian, that's what she was. Trained by one of the most formidable female warriors. Escaped the Illyrian camps and her clipping when she was barely sixteen and is now the holder of 6 siphons. What happens when she tries to sneak into the City of Starlight? And starts down a whole new road of chaos?

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

I awoke early in the morning. I didn’t sleep too well, but I didn’t fall out of the tree or anything and no creatures dared to come near.

I launched myself into the air after packing my things away and flew towards the huge mountain. I rounded the area, ignoring Velaris in my peripherals and instead focusing on where I saw people coming out on the flattened plateau area at the top of the mountain.

I glided for a little, observing, before I landed, tucking my wings in tightly before I went to face whoever was near.

I saw Nesta and the two females beside her regard me carefully. One had wings, and one had red hair. There were other females as well, but they seemed to focus their attention elsewhere.

Cassian was near a wall. I met his gaze for only a moment before turning to assess the training grounds.

It was sandy and had many fighting rings, as well as weights and dull training weapons lined against a wooden wall.

I spotted Nesta and her friends coming up to me. The Illyrian I took more attention towards when I saw scars running down her wings. Clipped. My heart ached a bit for her.

“Hello there,” I said when they had come close enough.

Nesta just dipped her head in greeting. The red-headed one spoke, “I’m Gwyn, nice to meet you.”

“Y/N,” I replied.

The Illyrian female spoke up as well, “Emerie.”

I dipped my head towards her. Despite not knowing her, I knew from the scars on her wings what she had potentially faced in life, so I respected her more than most already.

I saw Azriel land across the area beside Cassian. I just merely regarded his presence with a quick glance before focusing on the females in front of me again.

“I suppose we’ll see how well you can hold those weapons soon,” Nesta said before she walked off. Gwyn waved a bit as she followed. Emerie stared at me just a while longer, her eyes glancing at my wings. I blinked slower, letting a very slight smile onto my face. Emerie did the same back before she followed Nesta. If I wanted to get to know anyone here, it’d most likely be Emerie first, I decided.

Cassian walked up to me next. “I don’t know how skilled you are, nor what you can do, so join in wherever you want. The more skilled train with me for weapons and the newer ones train with Azriel at whatever skill level they’re at.”

I nodded. Cassian walked off toward Nesta and her group. I took a glance at Azriel who was with the other females before I walked to a corner of the training area, setting my bag down along with my sword. I kept most of my daggers on me though. Then I walked over to where Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie and Cassian had already begun stretching.

I joined in. My flexibility wasn’t the best of the best, but it was certainly better than most; I confirmed that when I was able to do all things that Cassian was able to do. I suppose I could use him as the standard for my skills for now, I decided.

“Alright, shoes off ladies,” Cassian ordered. “We’re going to review the basics again. You guys haven’t done it this week.”

“Why is it always the basics,” Nesta groaned.

“It’ll be fast, Nes, you know that,” Cassian said with a smirk. “You’ll get to play with your sharp stabby things in a bit.”

Everyone unlaced or toed off their boots. I set my own boots to the side, stretching my arms one last time before getting ready to do “the basics” or whatever they were. I paid very little attention to what the Illyrians considered the basics, and instead familiarized myself with their flight, formations and signals. Never with their basic sword fighting. Perhaps it’d be similar to what Rainne put me through.

“Balance on your right foot,” Cassian ordered.

We obeyed. I was slightly confused. This was their basics? I’d be perfectly fine then, I chuckled. I kept my foot raised for a long time, only almost falling once before I mastered myself and took a deep breath to focus again.

“Left foot.”

I switched my feet mid air, landing on my bare left foot, heel first to my toe, a silent and very light landing. I’d mastered this sort of balance first with Rainne. I knew my fighting style differed from a normal Illyrian fighting style, but this much? Perhaps they really didn’t like their footwork, I thought, amused.

Cassian brought out a bunch of wooden sticks, handing us each two.

“Stretch out horizontally with your arms out holding the sticks.”

I flipped the wooden poles in my hands as I stretched my leg out behind me, and balanced each pole in my opened palms facing upward. This, at least, was familiar to me. Rainne had loved to torture me using this technique. Palms up to the sky, balancing some sort of pole or dagger or stick while my head remained up, and body balanced.

“Good,” Cassian praised as he did the same with us. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a second.

“Switch.”

I completed the order quickly, my thighs and calves flexing as I again balanced myself.

Another technique Rainne loved to use to torture me was making me spread out my wings and hold them up as far as they could go. I didn’t do this now, but these exercises were certainly bringing up a lot of memories.

“Good. Let’s do our squats now,” Cassian ordered after we’d held each position around a total of 10 minutes.

Squats, in my opinion, were terrible, but necessary sins. When we finished, my thighs ached subtly, but at least Cassian hadn’t had to correct my posture or anything like he did for Gwyn and Nesta.

“Great. Let’s do the 8 pointed star next,” Cassian suggested. “Grab a training sword.”

The other three females went immediately to grab a sword. I hesitated. 8 pointed star? What was that? 

Cassian noticed my hesitance. “I don’t know the Raven’s teaching method. The 8 pointed star is just sword maneuvers. You can follow along, or I can show you.”

I met his gaze. “I suppose I’ll learn it. Learn how the Illyrians do it and all that.”

Cassian nodded. I went to pick up a training sword. It was significantly heavier than the sword I carried, and shorter, but I’d manage I suppose.

“Nes, you three do your star,” Cassian ordered as he turned to me, holding an Illyrian blade that he drew from his back.

I met his eyes and he blinked. “Seeing as you already know how to use a sword, this, in theory, should be easy,” Cassian assured, speaking quieter than when he was ordering us into balancing. “Perhaps sometime we should spar, and you use that lithe blade you left in the corner.”

“Perhaps,” I replied. “Compared to the Illyrians I’ve fought, my style is much lighter.”

Cassian nodded. “Interesting,” he merely regarded. “Get into a stance,” he then ordered.

I spread my legs farther, holding the training blade with both of my hands and faced my head forward, my weight settled more onto my haunches as I bent my knees slightly.

“Hm. Good,” Cassian decided. “This will work. I’d rather not mess up whatever you already have memorized internally. Hold the sword out in front of you.”

He copied my position in front of me. I noticed his weight sat more on his feet than mine, but it worked. I held the sword out, elbows bent so that I was looking through the blade at Cassian.

“Copy what I do,” He simply ordered. Then threw out his sword in a powerful arching slash, flipped the blade and blocked an invisible blow, then downward. And he paused there, looking at me.

I copied what he did exactly, easily and without any faltering. An easy maneuver, I noted. But it was a powerful one.

He simply grinned and then did the next set of movements. I copied them without any problem. This continued until we’d completed eight different maneuvers, each easy to complete and slightly familiar to me I noticed. The Illyrians I’d fought tried these on me. And I’d learned how to block them. Not use them.

“Good,” Cassian said as I finished the last movement, a side step into a stab. “Memorize those movements, if you plan to continue coming to training.”

I dipped my head slightly. Sweat was coming off my brow and I wiped my forehead, shaking out my wings to feel a slight cool breeze blow into them.

I copied the 8 pointed star with the other three females. It was only a memory issue, if an issue occurred, and I quickly revised it, completing each set of movements with skill and confidence.

“Good, alright, let’s pause now,” Cassian ordered after a bit of time. We rose to face him. I saw the other females taking deep breaths, eyes closing for a moment before opening them. They looked a lot more focused, I noted as I took deep breaths to let my lungs catch up.

“If I can steal Azriel, we’ll spar, but otherwise, we’ll do some weight training,” Cassian explained, and then walked off with an amused grin as Nesta immediately protested.

Emerie looked at me now. I met her gaze. She was strong-willed, I noted as I saw her back straighten and gaze harden. That told me I was slightly threatening to her. So I took a slight step back, showing I meant no harm. She blew out a breath and just nodded to herself. I could tell she wanted to ask me questions, but hesitated.

I spoke just loud enough for her to hear. “Just ask, I don’t mind,” I promised.

Emerie jerked her head up. Then, after a beat of silence, she asked, “You’re able to fly,” She said, a simple observation that I was not clipped.

“I escaped a long time ago,” I replied. “I was almost not able to.”

Emerie nodded. Understanding flooding her gaze. “Who?”

“The camp lord. It was before Rhysand was High Lord,” I explained.

“Ah,” She murmured.

Nesta gave me a look, as if in warning, but I also saw a bit of sympathy flood her gaze. I tried to ignore it.

Azriel and Cassian were walking over toward us now.

“Alright. Nesta, with Emerie. Gwyn, Azriel. Y/N, you’re with me. You can use whichever blade you choose. But I am quite curious to see how you fight.”

I dipped my head, and decided to return the training blade and retrieve my own sword. I belted on the short leather sheath before walking over to Cassian. Everyone else had begun a spar, blades flashing in the light.

I withdrew my sword from my hip, the thin and long blade shining with the light beating down.

Cassian lowered into a fighting stance, as did I. Then we began. It was slow at first. We each tested each other. I grew more confident with each swing though. These were sword techniques I recognized from other Illyrian males. The thing that kept me at bay was the fact this was a spar, not a murder, and Cassian was told to be the best warrior in Pyrthian. He was confident in his skills, and sometimes that can prove fatal.

We drew apart for only a split moment before rushing each other, gazes hardened. I parried his blow, and attempted to knock the blade from his hand. I failed that maneuver miserably and quickly leaped away, landing on my right leg as I flared my wings slightly. Cassian didn’t let me gain an inch.

We fought for a long time, being the last pair to finish, almost a whole half hour later. Cassian had moved forward when we had our blades pushed together, something I wasn’t expecting, and caused me to lose my balance. He used this to trip me. I had to admit he was very skilled compared to other Illyrians. I noted his movements as I took his offered hand to stand. Strong and confident. If I ever had to face him in a fight to the death; Mother help me, I prayed. I put my blade away in its sheath.

“Fancy footwork,” Cassian complimented before turning to everyone.

Azriel, I noted, was watching me closer than before, but he turned his gaze away after he saw me staring right back. He was walking back to his own charges after a couple moments, shadows swirling around him. I tried not to think too much about it. Maybe he was just weird. His job was being a spymaster. And what did spies do for the courts? Kill people... torture people... be sneaky and mysterious. Honestly, he could just be like that, I considered.

Nesta dipped her head toward me, as if in respect. I dipped my head back in return. Very subtly though. Lest she think I'm going to openly show her respect this early into knowing her. People earned my respect. The less subtle my head dip, the more respect I have for you.

The sun was much higher in the sky, I noted as I glanced up. Close to noon.

“Alright, everyone, water break and cool down, then you can be done for the day,” Cassian spoke.

I followed the crowd over to a water station near an archway. I made sure I’d gotten my fill before wandering back over to the training area for my final stretching. Luckily, the term “cool down” wasn’t foreign to me.

Cassian ordered us into the final stretching for the day (it was a pretty easy day of training to be honest, for me). I stretched out my wings wide as many of the females who trained took a breather and sat down.

I went back to my things, staring off into the sky in front of me. I suppose I could train, but I’d need to find somewhere to stow away my belongings preferably. A tree hole would do, I thought.

Azriel came over towards me. “You’re impressively skilled,” He commented.

I perked up, folding my wings as I turned toward him. “Thank you,” I replied. He didn’t leave, just kind of staring. I quirked a brow. “Is there something you want to ask me?” I asked.

“Why do you keep your shadows hidden?” Azriel asked, his own dark beings floating in the air around him.

I turned away slightly. “It’s not safe,” I replied simply. “And while the whispers I hear are comforting, it is much safer to not have them around me.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but he just nodded as a form of acknowledgement. “Will we see you tomorrow?”

I hesitated for a second. Should I come back? Is it a good idea to attach myself? Sure, the training was most likely useful, and I might even be able to share some of what I know, but, was it really a good idea to come here, and get used to having people around me again? It’d be nice… but I didn’t trust it. Not completely.

“Maybe,” I said, deciding to not decide yet.

Azriel seemed uncomfortable for some reason. “What are you going to do for the rest of the day?”

“Probably fly and then hunt for rabbits. I saw a warren not too far away when I arrived,” I replied, turning around to gather my things, slinging my bag over my shoulder and right wing. 

“You’re welcome to come to the House of Wind for dinner,” he offered. “Unless you are uncomfortable, but the House can provide a meal for you elsewhere besides the dining room if you’re uncomfortable there. Just ask aloud.”

I dipped my head. “Perhaps,” I decided. It’d be easier than hunting rabbits, but I didn’t know if I was ready to come back here so soon.

“Goodbye,” I said, half spreading my wings in preparation for a flight.

Azriel replied, “I’ll see you later.”

Maybe, my mind helpfully reminded me.

I didn’t waste another beat, eager to get out of the awkward conversation with the weird spy. I glided down to the forest, finding a hole in a tree right at the base of the mountain. I settled my bag into it, and after a second of thought, my sword too. I blocked up the entrance with sticks and then launched myself into the sky.

I glided on the other side of the mountain, over forests and other, smaller mountains around the House. I didn’t fly over Velaris, deciding that wouldn’t be the best of my ideas, even if Cassian and Azriel knew I wasn’t a threat this time.

I opted to glide just above the treetops, enjoying myself plenty enough. I checked up on some aerial maneuvers I knew, and flew high up in the clouds where the air grew thinner before I regarded the sun’s position in the sky. Just high enough to hunt.

Then I thought about Azriel’s offer. I could go back, having a well prepared meal rather than just cooked rabbit over a fire. It’d taste better, and be probably healthier. I pursed my lips before turning my course towards the House. I silently swore to myself it was only for tonight.

I landed on the same balcony as before, walking inside the doors. Nobody was there to greet me. I explored a bit, coming to a small area by a window with a simple stool and table. Books were in one corner, piling up on bookshelves, and the small table beside it. A nice little nook in the entirety of this mansion.

I recalled Azriel’s instructions. Just ask aloud? That seemed weird, I thought. “May I please have a meal?” I asked aloud, quieter so if anyone was near, they wouldn’t hear me.

A plate with food popped up on the table. Magic.

“Thank you, I guess,” I chuckled. “A sentient house. Interesting.”

I ate my food relatively quickly. When I finished, the plate disappeared.

“Alright, I best be going,” I said aloud to myself, and just in case the House was listening. Though it was very weird to be speaking to a literal structure.

I glided down to my things before once again setting up to rest in the branches of a tree. I decided it was most likely safe enough and decided to rest in the tree at the foot of the ridge. I didn’t know when I’d decided I’d go to training again, but something in me just said to go.

So I did.

[jiubilant]

“And no one’s combusted today?” asks the Archmage.

“Not yet.” Mirabelle Ervine, Master Wizard of the College of Winterhold, reshuffles the papers in her hands. “But it’s not yet lunchtime.”

Outside, in the parsimonious light of morning, a piece of the parapet crumbles into the courtyard. Mirabelle starts. Savos Aren, staring with wizardly preoccupation into the air, doesn’t bat an eye.

It’s one of those mornings, Mirabelle thinks, and resolves not to press him until the afternoon. To do otherwise would be unproductive. Of all that she’s set before him already—correspondences with wealthy patrons, dispatches from Mzulft, a stack of books tall enough to totter—he’s only examined the cup of chamomile with any real scrutiny.

“Very good,” he says, stroking his beard with a quivery hand. Yes, Mirabelle thinks, she’s lost him. He’s seen something interesting in the steam. “And you’re reviewing the adepts’ research proposals?”

“Yes, Archmage.”

“Supervising the”—the Archmage pauses for a moment, thinking—“Saarthal matter?”

“Yes, Archmage.” Mirabelle’s face does not move. “Shall we go over the accounts?”

“I’m a bit busy, now.” As if to demonstrate, Savos lifts the topmost volume from the stack and opens it to a random page. The steam obscures his face like fog. “Perhaps you could show them to that Company creature.”

* * *

“Eight gams of God,” says the Company creature, looking shaken.

Mirabelle, brisk and businesslike, reclaims her ledger. “We’ll sort it.”

“There’s a spell for that, I suppose.” The factor’s clerk from far Haafingar—the mage from Shad Astula, she corrects herself with a flash of irritation, repeating in her mind the story they’ve rehearsed—waves his hand with a mystical flourish. “Abraca-double-bookkeeping.”

They’re hurrying to the stairs, elbow-to-elbow, which is how they have most of their conversations—harried and hushed, suspecting company. But the stairwell has no railings, an oversight of far-sighted Shalidor that Mirabelle had never thought dangerous until now. She proffers her hand in wordless apology. The clerk takes it with a smile and picks down the stairs at a more patient pace, all goatish grace, the foot of his cane skipping from step to step.

Mirabelle looks over her shoulder. Then she looks sidelong at him. “Are you settling in?”

She’d asked in Bretic, to be discreet. Her fellow conspirator raises his eyebrows, taking the meaning of her precaution, and answers in a quaint Dellese dialect that would flummox any Thalmor tail. “Settling in?”

“As much as one can.”

“Master Tolfdir took me for a turn about the ramparts.” The clerk’s grin is unscholarly. He has the creased, canny face of a factotum, through no fault of his own. “Quite a view. Now I know how Veloth felt when he first looked on the wastes.”

Mirabelle almost smiles. “Quoth the prophet, bit of a fixer-upper?”

This wins her a rare laugh, swift and uplifting as a williwaw. “When you are Archmage, Mistress—”

“You’ve been speaking to Faralda.”

“—I hope,” says the clerk, “you’ll do something about that bridge—”

“It looks worse than it is.”

“—and the, ah, the walls—”

“Ravila.”

They reach the bottom of the stairs. The clerk, with the mock solemnity of a beau in a ballroom, lifts Mirabelle’s hand over their heads; Mirabelle, straight-faced, twirls like a debutante under his upraised arm.

The strain, she thinks, is making them both absurd. She’s started laughing at sudden silences. Leaping at sudden sounds. The next time Ancano swoops at one or the other of them like some great gallows-bird, dripping pleasantries like gore, she might set his robe alight—

“Mistress Ervine?”

Mirabelle blinks. The clerk, his brow furrowed, is looking down at her with kind concern.

“The accounts will wait,” she says, holding her face carefully still. “And the walls. If you can spare a fortnight, I have more pressing business for you to stick your beak in.”

“Ah.” The clerk’s mouth twitches, amused. “The books?”

* * *

“Three volumes of Colto,” growls Urag, slamming a catalogue the size of a catamaran onto his desk. The resulting thunk shivers the shelves of the Arcaneum’s reference section. “Two of Cinna. The Karthald calfskins. One of gra-Kogg’s original manuscripts, scribed in her own hand—”

“I assume,” says Mirabelle, her voice dry as blotting-sand, “you have a written list.”

“Yes, yes.” Her Master Archivist flips to a creased page in the catalogue, then taps it with a huge finger. “Here. Alabore, copy this out for the Master Wizard.”

As a prentice who’d been sharpening pens hurries over to help, Mirabelle permits her attention to wander. She’s been too busy, in past weeks, to visit the Arcaneum. The air itches with the dry, dusty smell of pounce and parchment. Magelights bob like stars between the shelves. At the trestle-tables, an adept in Alteration blue folds a scrap of foolscap into the shape of a swallow, then murmurs something to it; the paper shivers, shakes out its wings, and flits across the room to peck the cheek of a second-year hunched over her slate.

“Here.” Urag’s voice, like the grumble of a distant rockslide. “All the texts that Orthorn stole.”

He slides a creased sheet across the desk. Mirabelle blinks down at it. The list, even recopied in the prentice’s cramped, economic hand, is longer than she’d expected.

“Thank you.” Ravi will need a pushcart, she doesn’t say. Orthorn had not, per his masters’ progress reports, been a resourceful student—that he’d smuggled this many manuscripts from under Urag’s nose, she thinks with quiet frustration, suggests that his masters had been remiss. She’ll have to speak strongly to Phinis. “They’ll be back in their proper places soon enough.”

“If he hasn’t been using them as doorstops.” Urag drags a weary hand down his face. “Or placemats. Mirabelle.”

Something in his voice makes Mirabelle look up. Urag has been a fixture of the Arcaneum since she was a prentice; his belligerent old face, soft as book-leather when he smiles, is more familiar to her than her father’s. But the careworn lines in it are new.

“I have spent decades”—he puts on his spectacles, then takes them off again, wiping them furiously with the hem of his cloak—“curating this collection.”

Mirabelle knows what’s coming. She nods anyway, quelling an old, tired pang. “We couldn’t boast of a finer library.”

“Yes, we could.” Urag’s voice is flat and heavy as his catalogue. “Half these shelves are empty. I’ve got a shoestring budget, and I can’t transcribe one page of a valuable acquisition”—the spectacles flash, trembling, in the magelight—“before we’ve got to sell it.”

They stare wearily at each other. Behind them, paper rustles as the foolscap bird takes flight.

“I’ll speak to the Archmage,” says Mirabelle, not for the first time.

“I know you will.” Urag, gruffly gentle, covers her hands with his own. “It’s not your fault.”

* * *

“But,” says Phinis, wringing his pallid hands, “it may sometimes come to pass, through no fault of your own, that the spell of fastening fails to take—”

He’s lecturing, for once. This is extraordinary enough that Mirabelle, who’s spoken to the man several times about spending his lecture hours in his office—and his office hours, she thinks drily, in the Midden—stops in the doorway to stare. He and a few first-years, cross-legged on the floor, are sitting around a summoning-circle scribed in chalk. Magelights flicker about their heads. Stretched in the circle is a dead cat, as patchy with age as an old rug, staring sightlessly at Phinis’s knee.

He’d reared that cat from a kitten, Mirabelle thinks. She remembers him in the refectory—younger, slighter, but still with the same nervous stoop—dribbling milk into its mouth with a damp rag. They had been able to afford milk, then. Heavy-bellied ships had bobbed into the harbor with apples, cheeses, tea.

Phinis passes his hand over the cat. Nothing happens.

“There,” he says softly, then glances about the circle. “Now, did I—did I miscast, Ence?”

The prentice he’s called on sits up straighter. “No, Master Gestor.”

“Did I break the circle,” asks Phinis, “or draw it incorrectly?”

The students pause, uncertain. Mirabelle, so as not to spy on a colleague, clears her throat. “Not, I think, a summoner of Master Gestor’s skill.”

The students jump. Phinis twitches, then acknowledges her with a wry smile.

“No,” he agrees. He draws back his hand, and the energy bending the air around it disperses with a sigh. “No. But the spell did not take. And if it does not take,” he adds gravely, gazing at each of his students in turn, “you must find another subject.”

The boy named Ence blinks. “We can’t try again?”

“It is cruel and unusual, unless you are in the direst peril, to try again.” Phinis’s face is calm and set. “We know now that no essence within hearing of our call, be it that of this cat or of any other nearby spirit, will willingly animate these remains.”

He looks tired, Mirabelle thinks. Thin. The bones of his face jut.

“In some ways,” he continues, the light flickering like corpsefire in his eyes, “our art is not unlike the healer’s. The healer labors to prevent the departure of the spirit—the soul, the animus, whatever you prefer—from a failed or failing body.” He sits up straighter. “Mistress Marence will tell you, if she hasn’t already, just what I’m telling you now: that we must learn when to bind the spirit fast, and when—”

Outside, a loose stone skitters down the wall. The students jump again. Mirabelle tenses, too, despite herself.

“Er.” Phinis clears his throat. He reaches, with absent tenderness, to stroke the dead cat’s fur. “When to let it go.”

* * *

Mirabelle takes lunch with her Master Conjurer—and, despite his weak protests, gives him much of her portion.

* * *

A strange feeling compels her to stop, afterwards, in the Hall of the Elements. She has little interest in the thing that the prentices have been calling, in significant whispers, the Eye of Magnus—even a few of her fellow masters, enthused by the find, have taken up that foolishness. She’d spoken sharply to Sergius about it the day before.

But she can’t pass through its glow without feeling a prickle on the back of her neck, as if the thing is watching her. Superstition, she chides herself. A mingling of the artifact’s harmonic energy, humming from it like heat from a convector, with that of the focal wells—any mage, she thinks, would feel that. Like a guilty conscience. She stands in the high archway of the hall and watches the thing turn, slow and peaceful as a passing floe, bathing the chamber in pale, ponderous light.

“You, too?” asks a hushed voice.

Mirabelle starts, striking a spark with her fingertips—but it’s only Faralda, the poker of her face poised to strike, peering over Mirabelle’s shoulder. She raises her eyebrows at the flame, startled and bright, dancing in Mirabelle’s hand.

Mirabelle shakes it out. Her voice cuts sharper than she would have liked. “What?”

Her Master of Destruction nods at the far side of the hall. One of her curls, straggling from its tie, licks Mirabelle’s cheek like a flame. “Look.”

Mirabelle looks.

Then she stills. The chill crawls again down her neck. She had thought, before Faralda came, that she was alone in the hall.

But Ancano, his face bright in the alien light, is standing in the corner.

“Thalmor in our lecture-halls.” A shadow flickers across Faralda’s sharp face. “Place of wisdom and arcane knowledge, my foot—”

“Faralda.”

“He hasn’t moved, you know.” Faralda is obdurate. “Not since I came by this morning.”

Fires will burn cold before Faralda lies. Mirabelle stares at Ancano.

He turns to look at them. The hall shudders as, somewhere outside, a chunk of the crenellated wall crashes into the sea.

[doasyoudesireandlive]

Hearts beating as one

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader, friends to lovers, roommate AU

Summary: Cuddles and a movie with your cute roommate.

warnings: fluff, petnames, dumb humour lol

word count: 900ish

A/N: This is for @chrisdrysdale one year anniversary writing challenge! congrats honey! the theme of the challenge was "love and cuddles" hope it makes you warm and fuzzy <3

(English is not my first language, and this is proof-read by me! sorry for any mistakes)

You tug your coat, burying your nose in your scarf. The wind is icy cold, the December air having no mercy. You are on you way home to your flat after a meet-up with old friends. It was so nice catching up and you had stayed there for a few hours, chatting away about the good old days and about the present. Your friends had mostly settled down, and they kept nagging you.

“Y/N, when are you settling down? Anyone special in your life?” and so on.

You answered as you always did “I’m in no rush, and no – I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.”

They all showed you pics of various bachelors,  in an attempt to play matchmaker. You just laughed it off, but deep inside you knew. Your heart already belongs to someone else. You’re just not sure if he knows it…

Finally reaching the flat you quickly get inside. “I’m home!” You call out.

A cheery baritone voice answers. “Hi, honey! Did you have a good time?”

You smile, warmth seeping into your body. “Sure did, dear – it was great!” You take off your coat, scarf and boots and walk into the kitchen.

Bucky is standing by the stove, stirring in a big pot. You pour yourself a cup of coffee from the coffee pot and peek into the pot. “What is that?”

Bucky looks at you, laughter gleaming in his eyes. “You just came home, and the first thing you do is diss my cooking? Tsk, tks, that’s low… kitten” The last word is said so sweetly that you can almost taste it.

You look at him and tilt your head. “diss? Nah, Buckyboy, that was curiosity” He gives you a look, a faint blush showing on his cheeks.

“whatever you say, babe, whatever you say” You simply smirk, and go to lay down in the couch.

You and Bucky had been roommates for about two years now. You moved in right after a really messy break-up. Your ex, John, had been the harassing and controlling kind. Bucky had been your salvation. You had arranged the moving before you broke up with John, knowing you had to get away quickly. You had not planned to tell Bucky the truth, but the instant his beautiful blue eyes stared into yours you had to. You felt safe, for the first time in ages.

After that day Bucky had protected you many times. John came to the flat multiple times, but finally left you alone after Bucky gave him a black eye. The friendship with Bucky came easy. 6 months passed and you were besties. But something other than friendship was blooming between you. You knew it now, after 2 years, that you were in love with Bucky. You kinda want to tell him, but at the same time, you don’t wanna risk your friendship….

“Honey? Food is ready. If you dare eat it…” Buckys teasing voice lured from the kitchen. You joined him and ate with him.

“Wow, this tastes way better than it looks! Its sooo good” You praise, mouth full of food.

“Well, thank you, sweetheart. Nat gave me the recipe, its some form of Russian stew I think. “ he eyes the food suspiciously, as if hes not sure if he trusts it.

After a few seconds he shrugs and continue to eat. When youre both finished eating you do the dishes while Bucky lounge on the couch.

“Up for a movie, doll?” Bucky calls from the sofa.

“Yeah! As long as we don’t have to see The Hobbit AGAIN, I’m so tired of that movie” You can hear Bucky huff, and you laugh softly to yourself. You get some snacks and drinks and go to sit down.

Bucky has already found a movie, some new sci-fi with good reviews. He gets comfy on the sofa and gestures for you to tuck yourself into his side. You smile, and sit down. His arm curling around your body and holding you close, like he is afraid you’re gonna flee any moment. Cuddling like this came natural to you and you had spent countless hours in Buckys arms.

The movie is ok, but youre having a hard time focusing. Youre now turned bit so you are basically sitting in Buckys lap. You start to squirm, the situation making your heart race.

Oh, if you only were brave enough to kiss him now. You stare at his lips. Full, pink, and pillow soft. You are lost in your daydream when his voice pull you out. “Wanna taste?”

Your eyes flicker up his and before you know it you are kissing him. He is taken by surprise, going stiff for a half second. Then he kisses back, with everything hes got. Pouring all your feelings into the kiss, youre soon panting. Pulling back and looking at each other with lust filled eyes.

Bucky is the first to speak. “I just.. I wanna… Well. Oh darn, I love you, Y/N” a glint of hope glimmer in his eyes and you giggle “I love you too, more than you could ever imagine”

You meet in a kiss again, pouring all your love and care into it, until your hearts are beating as one.

Bucky pull back. “And by the way… I was talking about the chocolate,” he says – pointing to the mars bar on the table, with one bite taken out of it.

“You fucking moron” You say, laughing loudly – peppering Bucky in kisses.

Taglist: @animnerd @late-to-the-party-81

[dr4kenlvr]

… 𝐊𝐀𝐊𝐔'𝐒 𝐘♡𝐔𝐑—𝐁𝐅 ?!

bonten!kakucho x fem!reader - fluff, crack (1.7k+)

request: your request are open, nice to see :). for my request i’d like a bonten!kakucho x fem!reader where nobody in bonten knows the two of them are dating but somehow figure it out? i hope this doesn’t go against your rules or something you’ve done before.

a/n/cw: i LOVE this idea my goodness. kakucho + this concept + the other bonten members is so fun, thank you for requesting! cw: tokyo revenger manga spoilers - bonten timeline and ahead, gross jokes because it's ran LMAO, swearing

kakucho is calm as he stands up from his chair, and excuses himself for the second time within the span of 20 minutes. he quickly exits the large room, his large steps echoing sharply against the cool, tile floor.

sanzu's emerald eyes squint suspiciously, as they follow kakucho's leaving figure. they're trained on his movement, only relaxing when kakucho's back disappears behind the marble wall. sanzu leans back against the plush cushion—kokonoi's most recent purchase—and stretches his legs up and over one another with a dragged groan.

there's a pause as sanzu thinks. "oi," he suddenly says, loud enough for everyone to hear—and everyone does hear.

however, mikey doesn't respond. he finds his warm, chewy doriyaki much more appealing than sanzu's shrill voice. and he's not the only one: takeomi is smoking a cigarette with mochi in the corner, too absorbed in a conversation to bother with his younger brother. kokonoi is sitting at the round table, occupying himself with paperwork. he growls frustratingly, harshly punching in the respective numbers.

the only one that pay sanzu any snippet of attention, is ran. his brother, rindou, sits next to him on his phone, reviewing documents and signatures. the older haitani seeks interest in sanzu's sudden call; "yeah? what's on your mind?" he responds.

sanzu stands up, and places his hands on his hips as he leans forward towards ran. "you notice kakucho's been leaving the room often, right? that was the second time, and it hasn't been long since the first." he says, eyes blown with peculiarity. "it's odd, eh?"

ran just shrugs, not completely convinced with the big deal of it all. "and? why are you all up on the guy, maybe he needed to take a fat leak. or maybe it's a number two." he laughs to himself, shoving rindou only to receive a scowl in return.

"can you idiots speculate about kakucho elsewhere? and quit revolving it around his washroom needs." kokonoi shudders. "rindou and i are doing work, can't you tell?" he adjusts his platinum locks behind his ear. rindou just sighs in agreement.

mikey turns around at the commotion, silently listening as he finishes up his snack.

"no, no! you guys don't get it, because i saw something else." sanzu's voice gets excited, and he pulls a chair out next to ran for himself. he rubs his hands together menacingly, and in a loud whisper he confesses: "there was a lipstick mark on his cheek! he has a fucking woman, guys!"

ran physically gapes, eyes twinkling in surprise and eagarness to confront kakucho about such accusations. he sits up in his chair, propping his elbows on his knees. "no fucking way, why didn't you point it out earlier?"

rindou is now looking at sanzu with slight interest, as well as kokonoi, his fingers now hovered above the calculator in ignorance. although the two have better, more important matters at hand, gossip about their fellow comrades was always invited.

mikey's eyes widen at sanzu's claim, and he hops off the squeaky-clean countertop with ease to walk over to the huddled group. takeomi and mochi continue to disregard the racket, puffing airs of smoke in unison.

everyone's eyes turn to their boss, who's now leaning against the table with a glimmer of enthusiasm. ran and rindou share confused looks, kokonoi straightens his posture, and sanzu's grin only widens at his, usually-stoic, boss showing some emotion.

mikey gestures for sanzu to continue, crossing his arms in wait. sanzu's smile falters, "what's up, boss?"

"so what are you gonna do about it? this kakucho lipstick situation. we gonna follow him or not?"

kokonoi's eyes bulge out at the suggestion and ran bursts out a laugh, "m-my bad." he awkwardly coughs.

sanzu, on the other hand, beams: ".. now i like the sound of that!"

rindou doesn't know how the fuck he got into this situation: him and everyone had snuck through the halls of the building, staying caution of kakucho's presence. maybe it's cause his brother wouldn't quit nagging him to come along. the group (sanzu, ran, rindou, kokonoi, and mikey—takeomi and mochi truly did not care enough to join) received odd glances from the occasional secretary or assistant, who immediately looked away at mikey's dismissive wave.

now, in the front foyer, the five of them cluster themselves behind a pillar. they had spotted kakucho sitting on the sleek cushioned couch, glancing at the bathroom doors every now and then. he seemed nervous, a light jitter noticable in his right leg.

"he's definitely waiting for someone!" ran whisper-yells, nudging the back of his brother's shoulder. rindou just groans and curses at him.

the pillar they seeked purpose to hide behind didn't serve well, so they (and by "they"—sanzu) prompted to level themselves atop of one another. the order from bottom to top went: rindou, ran, sanzu, kokonoi, and of course, mikey. rindou found this unreasonable, considering mikey was the shortest. but whatever the boss wants, the boss gets.

as the ran and sanzu begin to banter and bounce theories off one another, kokonoi notices a woman exit the bathroom and make her way towards kakucho in a brisk manner. "shush! guys—look, there's someone there." kokonoi declares sharply, fed up with the behaviour of the men below him. all eyes shoot towards kakucho and the mystery woman, all five pairs keenly watching for what will happen next.

they watch as kakucho immediately stands, and reaches for the woman's hand, which she accepts with a smile. sanzu nearly squeals, and mikey has to reach down to clamp his mouth shut.

the two converse something amongst themselves, the woman pouting with her big doe eyes as kakucho's shoulders eventually slump in defeat. she seems to be asking for something, and kakucho searches around the area a few times. the five little heads slip behind the pillar's protection from his lingering eyes.

by the time mikey deems it a safe amount of time, each of the men inch their heads back into position, only to find kakucho and the woman—who is clearly now his girlfriend—kissing.

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!" sanzu blurts suddenly, and obnoxiously loudly. all eyes in the foyer dart towards the pink-haired man like lasers on a target; including your's and kakucho's. he instinctively grabs onto your hand, and unsubtly situates himself infront of your body on reflex.

"i knew you had something going on, kakucho!" sanzu pauses for dramatic effect, eyes swtiching over towards you with a (somewhat?) friendly grin. if you were being honest, he just seemed a little eagar. was 'insane' a rude word?

sanzu continues, "but who knew a quiet one like you had so much game!" he removes himself from the group's god-awful disguise and struts towards you and your boyfriend, whos jaw is clench incredibly tightly.

"well, maybe if sanzu talked less, he'd find someone too." kokonoi suggests, eyes rolling. the others call sanzu back, but to no avail. therefore the next course of action, was to simply follow the man out.

the closer the group approaches kakucho and you, the more livid kakucho's facial expression becomes. he barely has enough time to process that he and his girlfriend had just been caught kissing, meaning, his job and love life would slowly but surely intergrate with one another whether he wanted it to or not. (he definitely didn't want it.)

"kaku'," you chime from behind him, a slight tug on his sleeve. you sensed his anger bubbling. he peers behind you from his shoulder, and is met with a calm glance and gentle smile. his eyes soften at you, as they silently ask you for permission. you nod slightly; a wordless sign of consent for this new chapter of your relationship with him.

kakucho tried his absolute hardest to keep you separate from his job's responsibilities. it was far too reckless, dangerous, and troublesome for you. he'd never dare to put you in unnecessary danger, just because he was apart of bonten. and you wholeheartedly appreciated his efforts, they only proved how much he cared and loved for you. however, it was certain now that the two of you could not hide any longer, but you were okay with that.

kakucho takes a deep breath, and nods back at you. it had to happen at one point, right?

he turns to face the other men, and moves himself away to reveal you. "hello sanzu," he glances around, "...ran, rindou, kokonoi... boss?"

mikey shrugs, before giving you a curt nod. you mirror his actions, smiling at him. in all honesty, kakucho is taken aback to see mikey tag along with the others, but doesn't question it further. "so please meet my, uh," he coughs awkwardly, making you laugh.

"—his girlfriend, i'm kaku's girlfriend. it's nice to meet you all." you bow politely, then tell them your name.

sanzu coos, "you call him kaku? he doesn't let me call him that ever!" your boyfriend glares at him, and sanzu sticks his tongue out before introducing himself to you properly.

the haitani brothers are next, ran making effort to compliment your outfit while rindou nods in agreement. "oh! thank you! your hair styles are quite cool as well!" you attempt to return the compliment, making the duo grin at you.

kokonoi is last, and you find him to be much nicer than you initially had thought. the way he spoke was proper, but his outfit had particularly drawn you in. he sends you a genuine closed-eye smile when you comment on the intricacies and beauty of it.

kakucho watches as you get along smoothly with his comrades (dare he say 'friends'); talking, complimenting, and even laughing with them. this was only the first time you have met them, and he finds himself imagining many other encounters. a longing smile appears on his face, as the conversations become white noise. the only thing he can focus on is your pure expression of joy: your crinkled eyes as you laugh, and the slight flush of your cheeks at meeting so many important people at once.

"oou!—kaku, you've got a little love-sickness on your face there!" sanzu exclaims, pointing straight at him. "need me to help 'ya wipe it off?" he giggles, and ran looks at the floor out of decency. in reality, he's laughing at kakucho's face as well.

"h-huh?.. man, can you fuck off already!" kakucho sputters, "a-and do not call me that ever again." everyone—even you and kakucho—chuckles at the wholesome moment; a sweet contrast to the dangerous lives of these men.

kakucho could get used to this.

taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @kazuhoya@gwynsapphire@sscarchiyo@reiners-milkbiddies@smileyswifeyy (send me an ask or dm to be added!)

reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3 !