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hier--soir · 1 year ago

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a lover's pinch | four

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: after a conference in new york, you and j miller phd take things a step further. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, i think i describe reader as having sweaty palms about 1500 times so it deserves a warning, alcohol consumption, the plight of being a woman in academia, oral [f receiving], unprotected piv sex [IN A BED ??? GASP] for you filthy animals, prone bone, a little roughness and then not much at all, uhhh pet names during sex.... uhhmm intimacy errrrrr.... soft!joel... feelings... okay bye word count: 9.3k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: hey folks, thank you so much for all your patience as i took my sweet sweet time writing this. we get to know our prof a little better in this one so a fair amount of dialogue for you but yeah anyways i hope you enjoy it, and i'd love to hear what you think! [and if i Fell Off because of the depression, don't tell me lol] A WORD ABOUT THE TAG LIST: i will continue the taglist for this part and for part five, and after that i will rely solely on my notifications account @hier--soirupdates so pls follow that and turn on notifs to be told when i post writing x this is part four of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three.

Saturday.

The conference centre is vast.

A large space that protects you from the threatening clouds that loom over New York City, and exposes you to countless dense conversations.

An NYU teacher’s assistant is glued to your hip, parading you through the centre with a wayward index finger that points out the bar, the room where the keynote speech will be given [large, with an imposing stage], and the room where you will give your presentation [less large, with a far less imposing stage].

Your presentation.

You fight the urge to pull up the email for the thousandth time while she explains how there will be fifteen minutes to set up beforehand, and advises on when the doors will open for guests, and reminds you that you have a strict allotted time of 20-minutes, do you understand?

But the email is branded on the inside of your eyelids after this morning’s flight was spent reading and rereading and rereading the words. So you nod and smile and placate her on the tour of the centre, as you run through it in your mind.

We look forward to welcoming you to NYU’s Annual Classics and Ancient History Conference. Our team was intrigued by the presentation devised around your translation study in Athens…

“Did you hear me?”

You wish she wasn’t dressed so casually.

Loose balls of lint are collected on the back of her cardigan like trinkets, weighty and threatening to fall off in a sort of bread crumb trail behind her every movement. It makes your dress feel all the more serious, all the more formal. Navy blue and a little tight, with sleeves that slant across the middle of your bicep and a hem that cuts modestly across your lower thigh. Professional, smart, sexy, but not too sexy. You and Nora spent two hours at the mall picking it out last weekend. And you can see people in suits, in blazers, in dresses, everywhere you turn, but your eyes keep returning to the TA’s cardigan. Little pills, sad morsels of broken fabric.

She says your name sharply.

“Yes,” you snap to attention, and clock her poor attempt not to roll her eyes. “You were saying?”

“It’s an open bar,” she continues from a few steps ahead, slowly back away while raising her voice to be heard over the countless others sprouting across the room. “And food is served after the Keynote.”

Finally free of her and her cardigan, you scale the edge of the hall, curious eyes glancing across faces familiar and not. You notice some other postgrads from UNE, and some professors from your alma mater. But it isn’t until three hours into the conference that you notice him.

You’re in a painfully long conversation with Professor Carmichael, an ancient history department head from Boston, when you notice them.

“Well you see,” he’s saying, slowly. “The First Roman Triumvirate was very unique. Surely you agree with me there, my dear?”

“Of course,” you nod amiably. A waiter floats past you holding a tray of glasses. You grasp one with a grateful smile, and turn back to face him with a sip of cold white wine moving down your throat. “The Big Three, it’s all very interesting. Although I must say, I am personally more interested in the second triumvirat—”

“Oh they all say that,” he waves his hand. “Everyone is so taken by Antony and Octavian that they forget about Crassus! So tragic.”

“A very tragic death,” you offer an exaggerated frown. “I agree.”

Carmichael hums, eyes narrowing as if you’ve said something wrong. Sipping your wine, your eyes float over his shoulder, determinedly trying to spot any sign of food, gaze spilling across countless faces and tables and waiters and professors until one set of people makes you pause. Wild dark hair atop a floral dress floats in your vision, her pale hand hovering over the sleeve of a tall man in a suit. You watch the backs of their heads; the way the woman tilts her chin upward to speak to the man and laughs at what he says in return. That laugh. You frown, and feel yourself take a step forward, a step in their direction.

“Is something the matter?” Carmichael asks and you halt, flash him a sweet smile and shake your head.

“No,” you rush, practically tasting the opportunity to escape the conversation. “I’m sorry, Professor, I thought I saw someone waving me over. If you don’t min—”

“Always so many people to talk to at these things,” he says in a sing-song tone of voice, smiling obliviously. “All in due course, dear. You’ll find them later I’m sure.”

It’s not until fifteen minutes later that the tap comes on your shoulder. You turn and feel relief wash over you as you come face to face with Rachel, with her tangle of curls and bright orange dress. But then a jolt shudders through your frame, for you spot the man accompanying her; the man you watched her traipse around the room with, the man in the sleek black suit—Joel, hovering a step behind her.

“Rachel,” you blink. “Joel. Hi—”

“I didn’t know you’d be here!” Rachel says. Her eyes are wide, lips pulled back into a crooked grin that immediately sets you at ease. Joel, on the other hand, looks uncomfortable to say the least. You watch him tuck his hands in his pockets and then take them out again quickly, lips pursed together in a tight line as he glances between you and Professor Carmichael.

“Joel,” she grips the sleeve of his blazer and tugs him forward to stand beside her. You watch where her hand grazes him - the ease with which she jostles him around. “Did you know?”

“No.” He stares for a moment, lips parted and eyes darting across your face, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t know.”

“I’m giving a presentation,” you explain quickly, eyes darting between the two of them, fingers tightening around your glass every time your eyes settle on him. He trimmed his beard again; the hairs are shorter, neater—almost too short and too neat for your liking. His shirt is pressed and crisp, shock white beneath the midnight black of his jacket. He’s wearing different glasses. Tortoise shell glasses. Someone clears their throat to your right, snapping you out of your reverie. You apologise quickly, “This is Professor Carmichael.”

“Of course,” Joel nods, stepping forward to grip the older man’s hand. “Good to see you again, Professor.”

“And you, Professor Miller,” Carmichael chuckles, patting a shaky hand against Joel’s shoulder. “When was the last time we crossed paths? A year ago?”

“Must’ve been a year,” Joel smiles easily. His eyes slip to look at you every few seconds. “The conference in Ottawa.”

“The conference in Ottawa!” Carmichael cheers, nodding away. A weight sinks in your stomach like a cinder block as you watch the Professor gear up to wrangle Joel and Rachel into another conversation about Crassus’ untimely demise. But then Rachel slips away, called out to by someone across the room. And before Carmichael can open his mouth, Joel is speaking again, that honeyed drawl like music to your ears.

“Excuse me, Professor Carmichael,” he smiles again. Two of his fingers grip your elbow, tugging you a step backward. “Do you mind if I steal my star student for a few moments?”

Joel tilts your body to the left, and then the two of you are veering off into the crowd, wandering through throngs of people, his warm fingers pressed against the soft flesh above your elbow.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” you say under your breath, glancing around warily, trying to spy any curious eyes that might notice the two of you.

“Could say the same thing,” he murmurs, dragging you to a stop at the edge of the hall with his eyebrows raised. “When’s your talk?”

“At one. Overlaps with the Keynote, which I’m a little relieved about,” you smile, a pinched, tense thing. “Hopefully everyone will go to that, and I’ll have a smaller crowd.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise. You think you notice his shoulders stiffen. “S’that right?”

A persistent pang of hunger stabs through your stomach, you rub a hand over the front of your dress and nod. Curious brown eyes follow the movement.

“Here,” Joel reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. His fingers graze your skin as he tucks the shiny rectangle of foil into your palm. “They don’t put out any food until after the Keynote.”

It’s a granola bar. Peanut butter and banana. You stare at it for a moment, almost dumbfounded by the kindness of the gesture. By how attentive he is; how much he notices without you even having to speak.

“Thanks,” you say. Nestle it into your purse and give him an appreciative smile.

“Sure,” he nods jerkily. Adjusts the glasses on his nose. “I’m disappointed to miss it.”

“Oh?” you blink. Your eyes focus then, flitting downward to focus on the badge hanging from his lanyard.

Joel Miller, Ph.D.

University of New England.

Keynote Speaker.

“Oh, shit.”

“Mhm,” Joel squints at you. “Sorry if I don’t share the sentiment that everyone comes to watch me instead of you.”

“Why didn’t you…” you gape. “You didn’t say you were giving a talk?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“The Keynote speech is a big deal,” you say, as if he wouldn’t know.

“I was their third choice,” he shrugs you off with practiced ease. “First two weren’t interested.”

“Third time lucky then,” you smile, and he chuckles. Someone calls Joel’s name then, and you both spin to see Rachel across the room with a group of people, all eagerly waving him over. Something nasty curls in your chest – something bitter and unwarranted and cruel. You smother it with a mouthful of wine and a soft smile of farewell to him as he turns and walks in her direction.

A hand clasps down on your shoulder and you flinch, turning to see Professor Carmichael beaming.

“Where were we then, my dear?”

You eat Joel’s granola bar at the back of the hall five minutes before your talk and walk onstage with the taste of peanut and banana on your lips, brushing crumbs of dried oats off your fingers.

Fifteen people attend, spotted miscellaneously across the amassed rows of chairs. The slide clicker is damp in your palm, and your thumb hovers trembling over the button, awaiting each moment you need to press down.

“Working alongside some fantastic translators,” you tell them. “We focused on studying the disparities between how Greek texts are translated by men and women. Particularly, we aimed to delve into the way emotive language has been downgraded or elevated depending on the lens through which a text is being viewed.”

Professor Carmichael sits in the front row, those sun-spot covered hands clasped in his lap, offering an encouraging smile as you shift upon the stage. Rachel is a few rows back, and she nods intently whenever you glance in her direction.

“One of our main points of focus,” you continue. “Was to understand points of difficulty in translating while accounting for cultural nuances, and how the context of differing authors can impact upon this. In my next slide—”

It’s as you turn to glance at the display that you notice them for the first time. Three rows from the front, where a group of men sit. Two of them young, maybe around your age. You change your slide and watch them whisper in each other’s ears. One of them points at you. Or not you, rather—your legs.

And you yearn for it to be meaningless. A meaningless gesture between colleagues. Meaningless legs, meaningless dress, meaningless curves and slopes and dips and spins. But as you continue, you know it can’t be. The way they talk through your presentation, as if they aren’t bothered to be heard. The way they leer at you over Carmichael’s shoulder, grinning to each other. Your words in one ear and out the other—simply a talking point for them, a blue dress, something to stare at. Your dress feels hot, tight, and your chest feels hotter, tighter under the lights as those eyes glaze over you. You glance back towards Rachel. She gives you a thumbs up that doesn’t serve to cool your nerves.

“When translating word for word in our field, it’s uncommon,” you stutter to a stop, eyes flashing warily. “Sorry, it is not uncommon to find that narratological creativity dwindles.”

You hear a chuckle to your right and swallow down the urge to shoot daggers in the direction of the sound. “Translators struggle to maintain the in-depth imaginative expression that the original Greek text inspires. But through my discussions with Professor Samaras, we found that…”

It’s in the final minutes that you notice him. Tucked away in a back row of the room, arms folded across his chest. You pause for a moment, words caught in your throat. But Joel merely gives you a short nod. The faintest hint of a smile, of the corner of his eyes slanting upward, and it’s as if a cool breeze washes over you. Hands steady, knees lock, and you push through. You don’t look at any of their faces until it’s over.

And when it is, and scattered applause decorates the air, you can’t help but cast a smile in Joel’s direction. A smile that slips and wavers when you spot the broad expanse of his back, that sharp black blazer, as he slips out the doors without wasting a second.

The rest of your audience follows suit, a slim line that wanders out the doors without a second glance—spare Carmichael, who tells you he was quite taken with how you presented yourself, my dear.

You hear your own name and turn to see Rachel approaching, a burst of floral frock and swinging earrings. Her smile is wide and crooked, and you can’t help but smile back.

“That was wonderful,” she cheers, squeezing your shoulder. “I was so taken by how you spoke about the importance of linguistic quality assurance when translating emotive texts. Brilliant!”

Your face warms. “Thank you,” you shake your head quickly. “It was… thank you. That’s very kind.”

You glance over her shoulder, wondering if he’ll reappear – perhaps share her sentiments, maybe shower you with praise. He doesn’t.

She catches you looking. “Joel was in a rush,” she offers easily. “Lots of people wanting to talk to the man of the evening.”

“Of course,” you swallow thickly. Another smile.

Rachel stares at you curiously. “He’s very impressed by you, you know.” Her voice is warm, gentle—soft spoken like a mother who can sense the slightest flash of insecurity. You cringe immediately, feel your arms cross protectively across your chest. Don’t give the game away now. “Honestly, I think he read your comparative paper on the katabasis three times. Practically raved about it when I asked what it was.”

“Oh,” you blink, shifting uneasily under her gaze. “That’s… wow, I’m flattered.”

“He sees a lot of potential in you,” she says.

“Right,” you nod. “Well, he’s a grea—you’re both great teachers. I’m very lucky to be learning from the two of you.”

She doesn’t speak for a moment, and you fear your face grows warmer in the silence. Can feel the slick on your palms returning, the flash of heat in your chest, the longer you sit in it. You make a quick and tumbling excuse to flee the scene, spitting a mess of thank you so much and just need some fresh air, before you’re stumbling out of the hall and wandering outside on newborn deer legs. You snag a flute of something bubbly off the bar on your way, and find yourself on a secluded bench in the breezeway behind the conference centre.

You sit there alone and watch the grass, the way the light from inside shines out across the green. Feel the chill of the wind slip past you, rustling your hair and raising goosebumps on your bare legs. Sip dry Cava and contemplate how many more of these things you can feasibly imagine attending in your career. There’s a single text from Nora on your phone, asking how the presentation went. You tuck it into your purse, leaving the message unanswered.

By the time you hear the door hinges creak, the glass is near empty. You spy a shadowy form snaking its way down the path, headed in your direction.

“Mr Keynote Speaker,” you hum. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Funny,” Joel mutters dryly, knees cracking as he falls onto the bench beside you. A heavy sigh slips from between his lips, fingers lacing together in his lap as he gazes across the breezeway. You down the last of your drink and place it on the concrete by your feet. “Needed some god damn peace and quiet. All that chit chat drives me insane.”

You murmur in agreement and stare at the side of his face – the neatened beard, the thick frame of his glasses. Purposeful or not, the side of his body is pressed against yours. Thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder – he’s sat directly in the centre of the bench. Heat radiates off his body and it’s almost too warm, and yet you find yourself relaxing against him.

“First time at one of these?” Joel asks gruffly. He’s still not looking at you, his eyes trained on a pigeon pecking at a discarded foil wrapper on the grass.

“Is it that obvious?” you grimace.

“Only because I’ve been to twenty of the damn things,” he says. “Y’learn how to smell the nervous energy comin’ off the first timers.”

“Twenty?” you mutter. Feel your stomach curl and twist at the idea of doing this day nineteen more times.

“Somethin’ like that.” Joel glances at you from the corner of his eye. “Went to a lot during my second degree. Had to get good at talkin’, fast.”

“Ahh,” you say. “So, you weren’t always such a sweet talker then?”

He lets out a low chuckle, as if amused by the thought. “Sweet talker, huh? That what I am?”

You shrug, suddenly emboldened by him following you outside, by how close he is, by how open he seems.

“I suppose,” you say slowly.

“And what gave you that idea?”

“You here alone?” you offer a poor imitation of him, voice low and breathy with your awful take on a Southern twang. “Meet me in the bathroom.” You wink, quietly delighted by the way his lips have tightened into a flat line.

“Funny,” he says again, entirely unamused now.

Something warm shifts in your lower stomach. Something wet—a vivid memory of him on the ground behind you in the bathroom of a bar, of hands spreading you open, of his tongue pressing inside you, of The Eagles playing faintly in the background.

“You do that kind of thing often?” you ask.

“Do what?”

“Approach young women at bars,” you wiggle your eyebrows, smirking. “Rob them of their virtue in the bathroom and then hope you never see them again.”

“You? Virtuous?” Joel rolls his eyes. You can see the corner of his lip curling upward. “Must be gettin’ yourself confused with somebody else.”

“Maybe,” you smile.

“Sometimes,” he casts you a look, after a moment. “Not… often. And not young.”

“Younger,” you counter quickly.

“I didn’t expect you to be…” he trails off and shakes his head. “It’s not a thing I do, alright?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s not.”

“You don’t date then?”

He tilts his head at you curiously, eyes planted firmly on your face now. “Not for a long time.”

“Why not?”

“Been busy,” he grunts, clearly growing impatient by the line of questioning. “Spent a lot of time studying. Working.”

“Where did you study?” you press.

“This twenty fuckin’ questions?” he snaps, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Came out here for—”

“You came out here,” you interrupt. “Because I came out here.”

He glowers at you, but doesn’t try to deny it.

“Night classes at Texas A&M for my undergrad,” he grits out. You smile sickly sweet, pleased. “Did my postgrads part time at UT Austin,” Joel says.

Your eyebrows kick up again, the teasing pretence all but forgotten. “Sounds… unconventional?” you offer softly.

“That’s one word for it,” he agrees vaguely. “Spent the better half of a decade at school just to end up teaching at one. Ain’t that somethin’.”

“And before that?” you press.

“Before that,” he continues with a wry grin, one full of distaste and frustration and resentment. “Was a contractor for a long time. Houses, buildings.” He rests a hand against his shoulder, fingers pressing against the muscle there, as if working out a decade old knot.

And for a moment you can see it. Can almost taste it. Collared shirts and glasses replaced with hard hats and hammers and dirt in the lines of his palms. Joel carrying a plank of wood on his shoulder, wearing a toolbelt. Joel on his knees, sweat shining on his forehead while he wields an electric drill.

Your dress feels too tight suddenly. Too warm.

“A contractor,” you say distractedly, and hope he doesn’t notice how your thighs press together.

“Mhm,” Joel nods. “With my brother.”

“You have a brother?”

He ignores that. “Where did you study?”

“San Diego State,” you flash him a grin. “Go Aztecs.”

“Good school,” he hums. “You’re a long way from California.”

Only a little further than Texas, you think.

“You did good up there,” Joel adds.

Your smile dips and wanes into a scowl, uninterested in the change of subject.

“What?”

“It was…” you shake your head slowly, face warming as you glance down to your lap.

“What?”

“It just wasn’t what I expected.” You pick at a loose thread on the hem of your dress. “That’s all.”

“And what did you expect?”

“To be listened to,” you grunt. “Not gawked at by some ancient jerkoffs that were only there to stare at my ass when I turned to change a slide.”

Joel nods, quiet.

“I wanted it to matter,” you mutter. “Wanted to… fuck, I wanted to impress them.”

“I was impressed.”

“Oh yeah?” you snort, finally looking up. “You hightailed it out of there pretty quickly.”

Joel shakes his head and stares back at you, gaze heavy. His hands tighten into fists against his thighs, knuckles lightening to white as he squeezes. You shuffle on the seat—ignore the flare of heat that erupts where your shoulder nudges firmer against his.

“I guess you could say,” he speaks slowly. “I’m tryin’ to keep my distance.”

You arch an eyebrow and attempt to swallow the laugh bubbling up your throat.

“Well, you’re doing a great job,” you smirk.

Joel laughs and your smile falters, mouth going slack at the sound. How rare it is, and how much rarer to have it all to yourself like this. For all of his sharp angles, his sweet talking, his harsh words, and harsher touch—that laugh is the cruellest part.

He jostles his shoulder against yours a little. An acknowledgement; perhaps a glimpse inside. Something that says, I know, I see it, I feel it, I can’t stop either.

“You make it hard,” he says then, and his voice is soft—almost a whisper.

“How’s that?” You match his tone, as if you’re two little kids who’ve snuck outside to share secrets where no one else can hear them.

“You bein’ here,” he murmurs, eyes searching. “Startin’ to feel like you’re everywhere I turn.”

A breeze swims past and you shiver, locks of hair floating in a mess around your face until you pat them down. Joel moves almost imperceptibly, curling his side tighter against yours to shield you from the onslaught.

“I know the feeling,” you admit.

The muscle in his jaw ticks and he clears his throat, looking out across the green again. For a moment the pair of you sit in silence. Not as professor and student, but simply a man and a woman on a bench. Breathing the same air, soaking in a shared silence that only the two of you could understand. And there are so many more questions you want to ask him, so much more you feel compelled to know, but instead you settle for this—sitting on a bench together, shoulders and thighs and chests pressed side to side, two frames moulded around the welcoming shape of one another. For now.

“It gets easier,” Joel says then, jaw tense as he spares a glance back in your direction. “This stuff, these people, all the talkin’.”

You acknowledge him with a small smile, just the slightest twitch of your lip. Don’t bother saying, maybe for you. Maybe for a man.

“You know,” you suck in a breath and give him a lazy smile instead. “I think this might be the longest conversation we’ve had without ripping each other’s clothes off.”

“Mm.” He leans his head back to rest on the wall, eyes focusing up towards the sky.

“I like it,” you say quietly. Hear how vulnerability chimes in your voice – a wobble that begs to be ignored and understood all at once. “It’s nice… talking like this.”

Joel’s head tilts towards you, dark eyes locked on yours. He doesn’t say anything, but you can see that wariness in his eyes. The same wariness that poured out in flecks of brown and amber and gold in the light of your bedroom a week ago, when he told you he was fifty. A hesitant curiosity, an incessant suspicion, a bark of disbelief. You feel the desire to pluck the feeling out of him and swallow it whole. To lock it safely inside yourself and make it so he never has to feel it again.

So you lean in a press your lips against his. Painfully soft, just a whisper of two mouths slotting together. Chapped and dry from the wind, he tastes like bitter sparkling wine. You sigh into him, uncaring. Hook your ankle around his, place your hand on his thigh, and sink closer, deeper.

He pulls back an inch, mouth still hovering over yours, the tip of his nose pressed into your cheek.

“Shouldn’t do this here,” he warns quietly, eyes still closed. His breath is hot against your face, and you inhale the taste of mint and Cava and Joel.

“I know.” You grip the lapel of his blazer and kiss him again. Firmer this time, grazing your tongue along the seam of his lips until he welcomes you inside to taste behind his teeth. The frame of his glasses presses into your nose, your cheeks, and you smile into his mouth. Rough palms and lazy fingertips graze the skin of your bicep, your neck, until they find a home at the nape of your neck. His thumb presses against the hinge of your jaw, hot wet tongue working your mouth open until you’re whining, teeth nipping at his bottom lip and fingernails digging into the meat of his thigh.

Only when you move to press a hand beneath the collar of his shirt does Joel pull back again, this time to stand and take a step away from the bench. A tinge of scarlet creeps its way from the hollow of his throat to the apple of his cheeks. He clears his throat and glances over his shoulder, towards the door. When he looks back, there’s something new there. Some dangerous that flashes in his eyes and lingers when his gaze dances down the curve of your body against the seat.

“Where are you staying?” you ask, breathless.

For a minute he doesn’t answer. Simply stares, contemplating, broad chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The lenses of his glasses are fogged, and you watch them slowly clear.

Then— “The Pendry.”

Joel reaches into his pocket and retrieves something small and laminated. You take it from his outstretched palm carefully. “Fifth floor.”

You stare at it for a moment. Turn it over in your palm once, twice. Read the room number printed on the key card before tucking it safely into your purse. When you look up again, Joel is already walking back inside.

It’s nearing midnight by the time you arrive at the Pendry – a high rise in Manhattan West, the kind with a fancy lobby and a doorman in a neat black suit. The polar opposite of the hotel where your suitcase lies unopened across the city. You feel out of place in an instant, but you’re still in your dress, and the staff don’t bat an eye at your presence. The key card he gave you is hot where your fingers curl around it, plastic damp and foggy with the sweat from your palms. By the time you reach his door you have to wipe it on your dress before the sensor will recognise it.

A hollow beep echoes through the hall, and his door presses open with a soft hiss.

The room is enveloped in darkness. Moonlight shines in through a slim gap in the curtains, highlighting vague edges of the space. A desk against the wall, a large bed on the left of the room. For a moment you consider that he isn’t here—that he got caught up at the conference, sweet talking into the midnight hour with other professors and alums. You can hear sounds from the street, music and car horns blaring, even from the fifth floor. But nothing else. No Joel.

Tentatively, you take a step inside the room. And then another. Kick your heels off and feel rough carpet hairs sift between your toes. Holding your hands out into the darkness, fingertips ghosting the wall for support, you venture further into the room, only pausing when your shin thumps against the corner of something sharp and sturdy.

You spit a surprised curse and stumble into the wall, hands falling to grip your leg where it throbs and smarts.

“Jesus fuck,” you hiss, smoothing your fingers against the already forming lump.

A lamp flicks on, and the room lurches into view, tinged in a soft yellow light. You jump, eyes squinting against the sudden brightness. Bed sheets rumple and shift, and Joel is frowning at you from his place amongst the pillows, a hand raising to drowsily scratch his chin.

“The hell are you doin’?” he rasps.

Heat flares in your face as you straighten up, mirroring his frown. He moves slow, a sluggish stretch out of bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, and he looks almost concerned. It gives you pause for a moment, eyes unsure of where to settle, as you note just how much of his body you’ve never seen before. The soft muscles in his legs, the dark hair over tan skin. You can see the slight round of his stomach through the thin fabric of the shirt.

“Were you asleep?” you accuse.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” Joel mutters, and the sound is a fractured medley of words and yawns. You feel a dull pang of disappointment in your chest as you watch him rub sleep from the corner of his left eye.

“Were you hoping I wouldn’t?”

He doesn’t respond.

“You gave me a key.”

“I know,” he sighs.

“Of course I was going to come.”

He nods. Yawns again, hand snaking upward to cover his open mouth.

You turn your back on him slowly. Take a glass from the little kitchenette and let the faucet run a cool burst of water into it. Little specks of water splash up, dotting against your hand. Your feet ache from wearing those damn heels all day, but you wilfully ignore the pain, gulping down half the glass while staring at your reflection in the splashback. Blue dress, hair tucked behind your ears, charcoal smudged around the curve of your eyes.

Joel’s fingers wind around yours, peeling the glass from your clutch so he can steal the final few sips. He discards it on the counter and leans against it. You try to make out his expression in the shadowy light, wiping your water-dotted arm against your side.

“S’a good dress.” He looks more alert suddenly, eyes sharp and focused, wide shoulders squared.

“Yeah?”

“Mm.”

“Didn’t say anything about it earlier.”

“Was tryin’ not to think about it,” he says plainly. “And how badly I wanted to take it off.”

Your hand stills. That misplaced disappointment slips out of the room, an unwelcome third party, and you grin at him. A sleazy, sleepy smile, and walk backwards in the direction of the bed without taking your eyes off of him.

“So take it off,” you challenge.

Your heartbeat is a steady thrum against your breastbone as he crosses the room. Badoom, badoom, no less than three strides and he’s there, gripping your waist to turn you so his chest is against your back.

Your zip is a low whir in the air, spinning downward slowly, slowly, from the nape of your neck to the sloping base of your spine. Deft hands trace skin, grazing every mark, every freckle as they are revealed to him, until the material of your dress is a gaping smile across your back. You shiver as the air rushes to meet your bare flesh, and then careful—cautious—you feel a pair of lips press against the top of your spine, soft pink against steely vertebrae. You say his name, low and surprised, and he doesn’t say anything. Those hands push the dress down your arms, and you watch it tremble and fall, a mess of blue at your feet.

You can hear his breathing; the way it stutters and jumps as he traces the clasp of your bra, the arch of your spine beneath it.

“Take it off,” you say again, and feel a sharp scratch of desperation that perhaps this time he won’t deny you this. This something that you’ve not experienced even once, and yet you find yourself missing.

The idea of his skin against yours is something prophetic, something inevitable, something divine—something determined far before the two of you met in that bar. It’s out of your control or his, irrevocable—a beast bred from desire that claws and snaps at the bars of its cage, calling you kicking and screaming into each other’s arms.

His fingers pluck at the clasp, and you smile. Sigh in relief as your bra hits the floor and the weight of your breasts are borne to the increasingly warm air. Joel is still behind you, still not seeing you. But broad palms splay across your back, massaging and flexing into your skin as they roam your sides, your stomach, up your front to cup your breasts. You gasp, eyelids fluttering as he squeezes softly, palms warm and solid against the stiff peaks of your nipples.

“Fuck.” Joel’s nose buries itself in your hair, his forehead against the back of your head. Your legs shake, and you lean back into his chest, your body a soft and tremulous thing that would surely float away if he weren’t here to hold you up.

His hands are on your breasts, sweet and tender and finally, and you wonder how long this wanting will feel like burning. Like nicks of flame that gloss over you and spit embers at anyone who dares to get too close—at him, sparking and sputtering as they collide in a spitfire symphony. This man who lives set ablaze in his own right. This man who welcomes your flame every time—swallows it whole, and lays kisses against the back of your neck with lips still warm.

Calloused fingers roll and circle your nipples, playing gently, listening for every gasp, every sigh, before diligently repeating whatever it was that called the sound forward. Your underwear is all but ruined, already damp and clinging to the slick skin between your thighs. And you can feel him against your lower back, albeit unmoving—not grinding against you, not pushing you down onto the bed, but waiting – for what, you can’t be sure.

You turn around faster than he can stop you. Hook fingers into the band of your panties and drag them down in a swift movement before straightening, holding his gaze all the while. And Joel—

He looks in pain. Dark eyes lock onto on your face and don’t stray. Don’t dip downward, don’t glance around the room. His hands hang by his sides, palms facing upward in a dejected fashion, jaw slack as he just—waits.

“Why won’t you look at me?” you whisper.

“You don’t….” he shakes his head. “If I look, I won’t be able to forget. And I—I can’t—”

There’s a flash of that memory again. Sweating in the dark bathroom of a bar in Portland. Joel wiping stained lipstick from your chin. The words I’m gonna remember this dripping from his swollen lips.

You take a step forward. Feel your nipples graze the soft material of his shirt. “And what if I don’t want you to forget?”

He says your name quietly, shoulders tense. But when you grip the hem of his shirt, he doesn’t stop you. Rather, he lifts his arms and lets you drag the fabric over his head. You marvel at the bare skin, eyes dancing across jutting collarbones and the soft swell of his stomach. Watch the way his chest rises and falls as stilted breaths flurry inside him before spilling into the air between you. Admire the trail of dark hair that rests between his bellybutton and the soft band of his underwear. His eyes don’t leave your face as you push the boxers down his legs.

“So handsome,” you say and Joel exhales, hands hovering a hairsbreadth from your waist. The weight of the moment hangs heavy between you. This moment of more. To be with him like this feels like more. To be naked feels like more.

You grip his hand and raise it to your breast again. Squeeze your fingers over his. His thumb flicks across your nipple and you gasp. His eyes darken, nostrils flaring as he fights to restrain himself.

“Joel,” you whisper. “Look at me.”

Finally, he does. Those brown eyes flickering downward to rake in the sight of your body.

He’s on you in a second, mouth slanting desperately against yours while his hands drift aimlessly across skin, untethered in their access. Fingers pinching and grabbing and squeezing, teeth searing at your lips, and you gasp as his cock presses against your stomach. The long, thick weight of him, drooling and needy. Your fingers slip around him, rub softly over the underside of his head, the vein on the underside of him. Joel grips your wrist and pushes you backward a step, his lips leaving yours with a wet smack.

“Sit on the bed,” he orders firmly.

You wander backward, stumbling onto the edge of the bed when your calves collide with the heavy wooden base. He watches you, hand drifting to wrap around the base of his cock. He strokes himself gently, black eyes tracing vigilantly over every inch of your body. And you expect him to push you down, to crawl on top of you. Instead, you watch with bated breath as Joel drops to his knees in front of you. His knees crack as they bend but he ignores it, nudging your thighs apart so his broad frame can fit between them. Hooded eyes gaze between your thighs, roaming across all of the bare skin on show. Slowly, he lifts a hand and rests it gently on your mound. Calloused fingers stroke over the dark hair there, stroking through the short curls. You sigh and cant your hips up, but Joel only grunts, his free hand squeezing your thigh to hold you against the mattress.

Before you can process it, he’s leaning forward, nose nestling in your hair as his warm tongue parts your folds. You groan in unison, your fingers carding through his curls to hold him against you. He murmurs something that you don’t quite catch over the roaring in your ears, but you don’t care. Too caught up in a smooth slide of his mouth slotting against you. The flat of his tongue glides up and down your sex, smearing a mess of slick and saliva in his wake. You gasp as it flicks sharply across your clit, your jaw tensing at the harsh sensation. Joel notices—pulls back.

“Tell me,” he urges.

“Slower,” you say quickly, voice feeble and desperate.

“Slower,” Joel repeats with a nod, and he massages your thighs as he licks into you, fingernails scraping your skin as his grip tightens and loosens and tightens and loosens. He traces slow circles around your clit with the flat of his tongue that have you gasping and bucking against his face. And when his tongue presses inside of you, you moan, fingers twisting in his hair and tugging.

“Fuck,” he growls into you, and he likes that. You do it again and his eyes flick open, pupils blown, gaze darting wildly across your stomach, your arms, your breasts, your face – watching, admiring, taking in every detail of the offering that you’ve laid so generously at his altar. The tip of a finger curls inside you and he grins when your thighs tense around him. He rears his head back to watch how you welcome him inside, eyes locked on the way your weeping cunt clenches and drips around one of his fingers, and then another.

“Yeah,” you sigh, nose scrunching at the slight stretch. “Yeah, like that, fuck.”

“Look at you,” he mutters. “Christ.” And then the cut of his wet red mouth is back on you, lips parting to suck against your clit until you’re crying out, voice a hoarse shout as you speed rapidly towards your end.

“Shit, Joel,” you gasp. One of your legs kicks out straight and his hand drops from your thigh, one set of fingers working you open while the other comes up to part your lips, giving himself more access. As he lathes wet kisses against you, the coarse hairs of his beard scraping your inner thighs, you can feel it. That liquid heat that coils and stirs in the base of your stomach.

“Joel, I—ohh—I think I’m gonna come,” you whimper, hand shooting out to grip his shoulder. Your nails dig into the tense muscle there, using the leverage to rut your hips against his face.

He groans into your sex, fingers moving faster, unforgiving against that spongy spot deep inside that sets you alight. His teeth graze against your clit, the lightest brush, and your stomach is tensing, every muscle in your body locking up.

“Give it t’me,” he says gruffly. “That’s it, come on, baby.”

A choked gasp falls from your lips and then you’re coming, twitching against his face, pussy bearing down on thick fingers that stoke you through the high. Your hand leaves his shoulder to grip the back of his neck, holding his face against where you’re aching for him still. Joel moans, a low sound from deep in his chest, dragging his fingers away so he can drink down every heady drop of your orgasm.

Baby.

The word rings in your head, bouncing inside your skull, a fierce ricochet. Baby.

Trembling fingers feather across the cowlick at the crown of his head, twisting and petting soft wayward curls as his mouth pulls back, a wet drag across the skin of your hip. You catch a glimpse of his cock, heavy and throbbing between his thighs.

Joel’s teeth nip at the sensitive skin of your thigh, a sharp pinch that makes you flinch. Tired muscles tensing, face twisting up as he sucks and licks, hot tongue soothing over the stinging red mark. He breathes your name, mouthing the sound into your flesh once, twice.

“I’ve been tryna remember this,” he murmurs. “Only ever had it for a second.”

You whimper as he licks into you again, slowly. And you’re so sensitive, and maybe—maybe—it’s too much, too soon, but he doesn’t care. He grips your calf and tucks it over his shoulder. Holds it there in a vice grip.

“Wasn’t enough,” he says. Dark eyes look up and you’re rapt in them—bound and boneless simply from having those eyes on you you you nothing but you all he sees is you and he loves it, you can tell. Thrives on the way you melt beneath his rough fingertips, the wet drag of his tongue. “Remember that first day in my office?

Remember, remember, remember, how could you forget? I’m gonna remember this this this.

“Yes.” Your leg trembles against the side of face, the coarse hairs of his beard scratching your skin. The tip of his tongue lathes slow circles around your clit. A cruel, leisurely slip of flesh on flesh that has you gasping and twitching beneath his hands.

“I wanted this that day,” Joel rasps. “Needed it. But you were gone so soon, ‘n’ I couldn’t help myself.”

“What—oh fuck—” He flicks his tongue faster, hot swipes from side to side that have your thigh clamping down against the muscles in his neck. Your mind is a blur, eyebrows furrowed as you try to make sense of his words.

“Fucked my fist the second you left,” he growls. “My fingers in my mouth, the taste of you—Christ, couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

“Joel,” you gasp, impatient. “I—get up here. Please, just—”

Strong hands push you up, push you back, further onto the bed until your head hits the pillows. His hair is a wild fray around his head, knotted and mussed from your fingers raking through it.

“I don’t have anything,” he says.

“I don’t care,” you say.

His knees press onto the mattress on either side of you and his eyes glance down your chest before he grips your waist and he’s turning you. Your stomach meets the sheets and you move to arch your back, to tilt your hips up towards him, but a firm hand rests on the small of your back, and keeps you down.

“Like this,” you hear him say. “Trust me.”

His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel him there, knuckles brushing the flesh of your ass, spreading you apart so his cock can press inside. The pillow swallows your wet gasp, and your eyes pinch shut against the stretch as he sinks deeper and deeper. Every delicious inch splits you open wider, further, carving out that space that’s just for him, and it’s more. Your vision blurs and you clutch at the sheets, fingers tangling in linen as Joel’s breathy groans fill the air.

“God,” he grunts. “Always so fuckin’—tight.”

You cry out as he begins to move, pressing you further into the mattress. The stretch of him is so broad—so deep—it has hot tears pricking in your eyes. Your legs are straight, almost clamped together, leaving the smallest gap for him to break through. His chest melts against your back, sweet sweat sliding from skin to skin. And his stomach is soft against the base of your spine, but his teeth are sharp where they nip and smart against the skin of your shoulder, your neck. He sets a pace that has you biting down into the pillow to muffle your groans. It’s almost overbearing how good it feels, how he surrounds you. Flat against the mattress, there’s nowhere to hide from the pleasure, no way to twist or curl your body away from how good it feels. A choked moan is muffled by the pillow.

And then his fingers are in your hair, dragging your head up.

“What are you fuckin’ doin’?” he grunts. You gasp, eyebrows furrowed and mouth ajar as you take take take. He pulls your hair harder when you don’t respond, presses his chin against your shoulder, lips curling against the skin of your neck as he speaks. “Don’t do that, not here. No more hidin’, I wanna fuckin’ hear it.”

He grips your hips and drags you upward so you’re on your knees, bracing against your forearms, and then his hand snakes around the front of your body, fingers dragging between your thighs as he begins moving again.

“Oh fuck,” your eyes widen in surprise, jaw hanging slack as he rolls his finger in expert circles over your clit. “Fuck, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he gasps.

“Fuck,” you repeat, mewling every time one of his thrusts sends your face forward into the pillows. “Yes, oh god.”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ like that.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust of his hips. “That’s it, lemme hear it.”

“Joel,” you cry out, voice cracked and broken. “So good.”

“I know, baby,” he grunts. “I know.”

“You’re so—deep,” you gasp.

“I know,” he soothes.

“I missed this,” you babble, mouth moving faster than your mind. “Missed you.”

“Christ,” he spits, pulling you up until you’re leaning against his chest. His fingers are a blur against your clit, cock a fast wet shift in and out in and out.

You tilt your head back against his shoulder, mouth hanging open as you press your ass back into him.

“Missed me?” Joel says, and his cheek is warm against yours. Wet. Your face is wet. “Gonna show me how much?”

“Yes,” you moan. His free hand grips your breast, squeezing and pinching.

“Need to get my fuckin’ mouth on you,” he growls.

“No,” you beg. “Joel, don’t—fuuuck, fuck, don’t stop.”

“Wanted to,” his hips stutter against you, losing momentum for a second. “Jesus, wanted to take my fuckin’ time.” You snake a hand behind his head to grip his hair again, to press his face into your neck. His mouth latches onto your skin, spit mixing with sweat where his teeth and tongue trace your roaring pulse. Your thighs are trembling, knees weak and wobbling against the mattress as he pistons into you, unrelenting, unforgiving.

“I’m—” your eyes start to roll back. You can feel your back arch and twist against him, toes curling into the sheets. “Oh my God.”

He says your name in a panicked hiss and pulls out.

You gasp at the loss, eyes flying open in alarm. He moves your body, not wasting a second as he lowers you down onto your back presses inside again, hands gripping the underside of your knees, holding them against your chest. Practically bent in half, you tremble in his grasp, eyes blurred and wet as you sob his name.

“Lemme have it,” he goads you, voice a dull vibration against your chest. “Bein’ so fuckin’ good for me, yeah, just like that.”

And it feels like something splinters within you as heat floods your senses, vision whiting out until all you can see is the soft edges of his curls against your chest, the wet smear of his tongue over your nipple. All you can hear is the words he speaks against your skin.

I’m close, he warns, and you say yes, say please, say I want it, because you do.

“Where?” You call the shots.

And you say, Inside, say, I want it, because you do.

Because you want everything. Everything he has and whatever dark matter is left after that. And everything is a naked thought, a stark realisation, a frighteningly bare streak of madness that zips down your spine and melts in your belly, and you can feel yourself tightening around him with the enormity of it. Can feel your body squeezing and sucking and holding it holding it holding it and with black eyes, spheres of a night sky’s pitch, he stares at you. Unruly eyebrows pinched tight. Mouth slick and swollen and snarling, white teeth grit like prison bars, keeping everything contained inside himself, just out of your reach.

“Fuck,” Joel spits, pleading, desperate. “Don’t—”

But his hips are bruising against yours and you relish in the ache. The jut of bone amidst the softness of his skin, a reminder of the coldness in him, the determination, the impatience. And you know that you can only have so much softness until there is stone. But you cannot understand don’t, you never have with him, so you grind upward. Meet him thrust for thrust, and shiver in delight as a tortured expression passes over his face. And when you come again he curses, broad palms bearing down on you, holding your frame into the mattress as he pushes you through it, prolonging that naked thought, that fearsome idea. You only hope that he cannot see how your own everything spills. How it cools and congeals around him with its palms spread open, longing to receive as much in return.

Joel comes with a shout, hips dragging backwards so his spend can spill across your stomach and the puffy lips of your sex. He grips his cock, milking himself for all he’s worth until wet ropes of his come are smeared across your thighs too. You gasp and writhe against the bed, trying in vain to keep your heavy eyelids open, not wanting to miss a second. The shine of your slick on his thighs and lower stomach is clear in the dim lighting, and you smile at the sight of it – your claim on him. Chest heaving, he follows your gaze, fingers swiping across his skin before sinking into his mouth. He groans around his fingers and you stomach lurches as he lowers his chest to the bed, mouth drifting between your splayed thighs.

You cup his jaw and hold him still.

“I can’t,” you murmur, and your voice is cracked and broken. “S’too much.”

And he agrees, tracing the marks on the inside of your thighs with his mouth until your eyes drift closed.

Time passes slowly after that. You don’t open your eyes for a while. Too fucked out, too tired, too tender.

There’s a warm glide of something soft and wet over your stomach, your thighs, between your legs—Joel cleaning up his mess. You almost wish he wouldn’t.

“Sorry,” you mumble a few minutes later. “I’ll go in a second.” But your eyes are closed, and the sheets smell like him.

You feel the mattress dip beside you. Hear a soft click as he turns off the lamp, and darkness swells around you once more.

“S’okay,” he says, and his voice is so close, as if he were whispering against the shell of your ear, breathing the words into you. “Don’t have to go.”

And it makes sense not to go. To stay, to stay, to stay. To sink deeper into the hotel mattress, and let the sounds of his heavy exhales lull you further to sleep. He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t come any closer. But you can smell him. Can feel his warmth, a radiating sun that shines across the side of your body closest, and you sink deeper still.

You think of the katabasis - the hero’s journey spiralling down into the underworld. Of Orpheus seeking the safe return of Eurydice, his love lost too soon. Of Odysseus, guided by Circe to discover Teiresias on his quest for homecoming. Of Aeneid, venturing downward to meet his father and hear his true destiny. This descent into the afterlife, into the realm of the dead, wherein upon return our hero is irrevocably changed. But to stay, to stay, to stay. So warm it is here, you think, so lovely and warm to descend wholly into this wanting, this burning, this everything.

“Is this a good idea?” you murmur, voice a drowsy call into the darkness. “For me to stay?”

Joel doesn’t respond.

tags: @lovely-ateez @nana90azevedo @stevie75 @evyiione @dameron-grant-spector @brittmb115 @ashhlsstuff @casa-boiardi @bbyanarchist @hopplessilse @joeldjarin @anoverwhelmingdin @bluevxnus @kelp-dreaming @prettyinpunk85 @spacelatinos4life @iluvurfather @mrsquill @sarap-77 @sunnywithachanceofjavi @alleyy-katt @zeida @mendessi @love-the-abyss @myrealmofchaos @a-roving-woman @punkshort @gracie7209 @whichwitchwanda @fellinfromthetop @bitchwitch1981 @suzmagine @@lmariephoto37 @harriedandharassed @cumberpegg @tonysttank @ourautumn86 @my-tearsricochet @shotgun-shelby @5oh5 @psychedelic-ink @what-is-your-wish @sugadolly @elissaaa @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul

thank you for reading! x

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #ALP #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut

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dustpages · 25 days ago

Text

Baby Blue Love

" Plié, plié, and a final pirouette." Mr. Lafayette instructed us to wrap up the endless last class of the week at the Opera de Paris.

Every step I took towards the dressing room was painful, my legs especially were wobbling given the intensity of this week's training. It was a year since I joined the Opera as a corps de ballet member, but it didn't make it any easier to cope with the sore muscles.

I wrapped myself in my long puffed jacket and walked out of the Opera Garnier. It had rained all day long and the wind was hauling in the old cobblestone streets of the city, it was baltic.

I carefully descended the stoned stairs of the Opera, making my way towards the metro station. I couldn't bear to stay any longer than was necessary in that awful weather.

The streets were almost deserted given the hour the training ended. I was concentrating on not falling on the slippery pavement when a feeble cry made me divert my eyes from my own feet.

I followed the sobbing sound finding just around a corner a small kid who was trying to protect himself from the wind. His face was angelic, his eyes were piercing blue and his hair was raven black and messy, it made him look like an abandoned puppy. He looked so helpless that my heart immediately melted. He couldn't be more than five years old.

The little boy stopped crying when he saw me approaching and looked at me curiously, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his dirty shirt. He had a blue blanket wrapped around him and some bread crumbs in his pocket. My heart sank at the sight of the poor thing. "Where are you from?" I asked him in my best French, even though he was not French.

" I don't know." He said in a broken French accent, and then in a strong British accent. " I haven't got a clue."

I kneeled down beside him and gave him a soft smile. "Well, why don't you come with me? You can have some hot chocolate and we'll see what we can do."

His blue eyes lightened up at the mention of hot chocolate. "Really?"

" Of course." I said holding out my hand for him to grab. He held it strongly as if he was sure that I was going to be his saviour. I felt my heart clenching at the thought of him being all alone on the cold street. He was such a small creature, I wanted to protect him from everything, I wanted to keep him safe in my arms and never let go given that the world seemed to have already thrown him a

harsh blow.

We entered the metro and we found ourselves in a carriage, sitting on two seats. He kept shaking clearly intimidated by the people around us. I held his hand, which was freezing, trying to calm him down; it was pointless to do small talks in that context.

We reached our stop and I led him towards my flat, which was in the same arrondissement of the Opera.

I opened the door and welcomed him into my house, a newly renovated Haussmann flat with a Versailles parquet spreading all around.

It was minimalistic furbished with white walls, and modern pieces of furniture. I pushed him inside, letting him warm up a bit. "You must be cold." I said unbuttoning my jacket, and giving it to him.

I walked into the kitchen to make him some hot chocolate, it was the first thing that came to my mind in that situation. I knew nothing about him and I knew he would be hungry, but I wanted something warmer and sweeter than a normal meal.

When I returned to the living room he was sitting on my sofa, with my jacket on his shoulders. It was huge for him, it swallowed his small frame entirely, but it gave him a sense of warmth. He was so cute that I couldn't help myself but laugh at the sight.

I handed him the mug of hot chocolate and he devoured it hungrily, leaving some drops of the chocolate on his lips. I felt myself laughing again at the sight, I couldn't help myself he was the epitome of cuteness.

" You are gonna stay here for the night, and tomorrow we will figure out what to do." I asserted composing myself.

He just nodded at me. " Time for a warm bath." I took his hand in mine and led him to the bathroom.

I filled the tub with water and added some bath salts, letting the sweet aroma fill the room. " Can you undress yourself?" I asked, feeling a bit embarrassed at the prospect of undressing such a little child.

" Affirmative ma'am." He answered and I left him in the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

I went into the guest room and retrieved some of my old clothes, that I had left there for my occasional guests. I brought them back into the bathroom and knocked gently. "Are you done?" I whispered.

"Yes."

I opened the door. He was standing naked in front of me, his small body dripping with water. His hair was glued to his forehead, and he had some water drops still on his body. His blue eyes looked at me shyly; he had his hands covering his pelvis area. "Don't be ashamed.” I said and took him by the hand.

I handed him one of my old T-shirts and a pair of leggings. They were a bit too large for his small frame but he looked adorable nonetheless. He smiled shyly at me and I felt again my heart clenching. I took a towel and dried his hair, trying not to touch him more than necessary. His smell was that of innocence, it smelled like milk and bread and something sweeter.

I dried his hair and helped him in getting dressed. He was still shaking so I grabbed his hand again, letting him feel my warmth. "Do you want to sleep with me?" I questioned him not wanting him to sleep all alone in one of my guest rooms.

" If you don't mind." he stated after a second of deep thought.

"No, I don't mind at all." I smiled and we went into my bedroom. We slipped under the blanket together and I wrapped him in my arms, giving him a gentle hug. His body felt so tiny against mine, I felt the urge to protect him from the world, I could have been the one making his life better.

I wasn't too old respect to him, I would have turned eighteen next March. I could have been his legal tutor, big sister or mum, I didn't care about the etiquette.

" Good night." He murmured, his voice still hoarse from the crying.

" Good night." I whispered and closed my eyes. I could feel his eyes on me, I could feel his breath on my neck, but I tried to fall asleep anyway.

It took me some time, but I finally fell into a deep sleep lulled by the rhythm of his breath and his tiny hand resting on my shoulder. I didn't even wake up when he snuggled closer to me, letting his head rest on the crook of my neck. I just felt his tiny breath on my skin and I was gone.

I woke up in the middle of the night due to a scream, the little creature beside me was trembling all over, he was still asleep. He was crying and murmuring in his dream, his words were indistinguishable but his fear was clear.

Holding him tight, I took him in my arms, rocking him from side to side as I would do with a doll. I whispered some comforting words, telling him that everything was okay, that he was safe now. That he would never be alone again.

His eyes slowly opened, they were hazy with tears, he looked up at me with the expression of a lost puppy. " It's okay." I whispered holding his gaze with mine. "You're safe." I continued, I tried not to break eye contact, so he could feel my sincerity.

I wanted him to see that I was real, I wasn't part of his nightmare.

After some time his breathing calmed down and he fell asleep again his tiny hand was grabbing mine, he was squeezing it softly. I wrapped myself around his small body, trying to give him the warmth he was craving.

In the next few days with the help of my parents, I managed to adopt him even though I wasn't eighteen yet. My parents were the ones on paper who were his tutors.

He began living with me. I had to manage my time between the endless hours of dancing, my private school where I was about to graduate, my baby, and my boyfriend Claude.

I had mirrors at home. I was well aware of my appearance, I've always been pretty and growing older, I blossomed. Dancing for hours and hours each day gave me a slender and toned body. I could tell to have everything to strike hearths here and there, and I surely did, even though none of them had ever conquered mine.

Claude had been with me for barely a few months, he was a bit older than me and not even particularly funny.

He was handsome though, tall with blonde hair and a nice body. Sex was satisfying as well, he was gifted but he lacked passion.

We were having a late dinner in my flat, I was late from the dance class and my baby was already sleeping in his room.

" Do you want some more?" I asked him pointing to the plate of chicken in the middle of our table. He shook his head no.

" I don't get why you are ruining your life taking care of that little shit." he asserted. " Last time I got him while he was playing with me shoes, they were bloody expensive."

" He is just a kid, and you should be more patient." I retorted. " You scolded him for nothing; he cried all night."

" He is just a whimper." He offended my son.

" Would you keep going losing time or we fuck?" I tried to change the topic.

He didn't lose any time ripping my white wool carding apart, the silver buttons flew all around the kitchen. I had on a black and white checked skirt and white cotton short stockings. He cleared the table throwing plates and cutleries on the marble floor, cracking sounds echoed in the silence of the flat.

Claude made me bend on the table, he positioned me behind me and lifted my skirt over my back.

" You'll get what you asked for." he spat on his dick and pushed into me, using his fingers to pull my panties aside. I felt the tip of his dick sliding into my pussy, stretching me as he entered me fully. I moaned at the sudden intrusion, but he just started pumping inside me not waiting for me to adjust to his size. He took my hips and began pounding me with full force, I cried out in pain, I was not prepared. My legs were already hurting from the hours of dance and my pussy was dry, he was tearing me apart. I could hear him groaning behind me, I knew he was close to his peak.

" Mina, I wetted the bed." I heard my son’s voice; he was standing naked on the kitchen door frame crying.

" You disgusting whimper get out of here." Claude yelled making my baby cry even more.

He gave me a few more pumps before I was able to push him back. " You are a dickhead." I offended him.

" At least I'm naturally gifted down there, not like that thing and his microscopic dick." he pointed to my son who was crying desperately.

I dashed to my son kneeling in front of him, letting my skirt fall down over my ass. I gathered him in a hug, trying to comfort him. He was trembling all over and he was looking at Claude with scared eyes.

" Claude get the fuck out of here. We are done, for good." I stated standing up with my baby in my arms.

" Well, I guess we won’t see again." He laughed grabbing his dick and shoving it in my face. “But it’s your loss nonetheless."

I pushed him away, disgusted and closed the door on his face.

As soon as we were alone my baby stopped crying, I felt a wave of relief. " Everything is gonna be okay." I promised him. " Now let's get you some clean clothes and a new pair of undies."

I carried him into his bedroom and changed him into a new pair of clothes. I cleaned up the mess Claude made in the kitchen and then we had some tea with biscuits in the living room, my baby was fully awake unluckily I was dreaming of sleeping.

" Mum, what does it mean ' his microscopic dick'?" he quoted what that bastard of my ex told him. I laughed a bit at the way he pronounced the curse word, and I realised that I should have been more careful of what I said in front of him.

" Baby, there's nothing wrong with your body. You are still young and you'll grow up as time goes by." I explained to him. " That moron was trying to hurt you, he was jealous of your beauty." I hugged him tight in my arms.

He looked up at me curiously. " Am I really beautiful?" his voice sounded way too cute.

" Of course you are, you look just like me." I replied smiling at him.

I could see his eyes lightening up at my words. " I'm gonna sleep with you tonight." he asserted, he was trying to get under my blanket.

I laughed and agreed, letting him climb on the bed beside me. We cuddled under the blanket, and we soon fell asleep.

We both slept like babies, my son's little hand was holding mine, and his head was resting on the crook of my arm. I felt him moving around in the middle of the night and I opened my eyes finding him on top of me.

" Mum." he whispered his voice was so tiny and cute.

" Yes?" I replied my voice hoarse from sleep.

" Milk." he uttered moving his lips on my naked chest.

I realized what he meant and laughed at his innocence. " I can't give you milk." I whispered.

His tiny and soft lips parted taking my nipple in, he had no clue what he was doing but it was feeling fantastic.

He was sucking eagerly looking for milk, I could feel my nipples getting hard in his mouth. I was letting him do what he wanted, I was just enjoying the moment.

He stopped after a while looking at me curiously. I could read the confusion on his face, he didn't understand why there wasn't milk.

" Keep sucking baby, a magical fluid will come out if you do a good job." I was turned on and I was eager for more.

He nodded and started sucking me again, he took the other nipple in his mouth looking for a better luck.

His tongue was darting in and out of my nipple, he was making it hard as stone. His magnificent blue eyes were showing determination, I closed my arms around him. I could feel my pussy wetting and pulsating, I had never been so aroused.

His little body was hot on my skin. I used one hand to play with my clit, rubbing it slowly while his mouth was still busy with my nipples, with the other I gently touched his hair.

He was giggling under my touch, my hand moved down his hand rubbing on his small back. His ass was round and perfect, it called for me to be spanked.

I gave it a gentle slap. My son, who has kept doing his job adamantly, bit my nipple, sending a powerful wave of pleasure down my body.

My cunt couldn't take it anymore, it convulsed around my fingers making me cum. I squirted on my bed making the sheets wet.

" Mum wetted the bed, like me." he laughed not understanding the whole thing.

" Don't worry baby, you did a terrific job." I kissed his forehead. " Can I peck your lips, please?”

He nodded shyly.

" Close your eyes." I ordered, and he obeyed.

I pressed my lips on him, they were soft and tasted like milk, I felt like I was eating him. He gasped and opened his mouth, I took advantage of that and slipped the tip of my tongue in, dancing it against his. He let out a moan and wrapped his arms around me, he started kissing me back with the same passion. He was letting me devour him, not that he could do otherwise.

I took my time, I wanted him to feel good. I wanted to kiss him to make him feel loved and appreciated.

I could feel the love for him growing up in my heart; he was my baby.

….

Long story short, till the present time. Twelve years later.

I was the epitome of grace and beauty, not my words but of the Opera director. I had made my way through the vertical ladder of the ballet corps de ballet, becoming one of the best and most renowned dancers of the Opera de Paris, I had earned a lot of respect and money.

Every night I performed I had a few suitors waiting for me at the exit of my changing room. Praising my mesmerizing face, my toned and long legs and my perfectly round butt. They would offer me the moon, but I only cared about getting home to my little boy.

Nothing could compare to how beautiful I felt when he was around. He had grown up with the most piercing blue eyes and the same raven-black hair as mine. His smile was devastating and he had the body of a dancer.

His smile made my knees weak, his voice made my soul sing. He was the epitome of perfection, and he was all mine.

I had always thought that I had adopted him to save him, but now I realized that I had done it for myself. I had done it to save myself. From loneliness, from boredom, from a life without a purpose more than dancing.

I had routed him to become a classic dancer since he got adjusted to his new life with me, I tried my best to keep an eye on him without interfering with his development. I wasn't a teacher and the serious discipline I've been subjected to when I was younger had scarred me, and I didn't want to pass those scars on him.

Now that he was seventeen years old, I could tell he had become a good dancer. He was still raw in some areas, but in general I was proud of him.

We were eating dinner at the dining table, it was another snowy night in Paris. His beautiful blue eyes stared at me for a good second, I had my hair still styled and the same fancy make-up that I wore all day for the commercial that the company was about to release before Christmas to promote the ballet activities.

" Mina, you look breathtaking." he complimented me. It was rare for him to express his own thoughts.

My cheeks flushed crimson red, my body became all tingly, and my breath caught in my throat.

" Thank you.” I murmured feeling the blush spreading all over my face and neck.

" It was just the truth." He declared with a small smirk. I swallowed hard trying not to make the situation too awkward.

He was wearing a white shirt and a black pair of jeans, his black hair was messy and his blue eyes sparkled in the light. "I have to ask you something." he said nervously. " May I?" he added staring at me shyly.

" Of course you may." I answered encouragingly.

" I'm facing a problem, a sort of dilemma." he began. " It's getting more and more daunting for me to dance."

" What are you talking about? You are still a bit inexperienced but still very young." I confronted him.

" It's not about that. I can't help myself not to get unreasonably hard down there while I'm dancing with all the other girls. I don't get it, I try to stay relaxed and all but it doesn't change anything. It hurts." he told me purring out his thoughts.

" Oh." I responded. I was well aware that this day would have come, his hormones were more agitated than the blizzard outside the windows.

" First of all don't question your career, the problem you encountered is utterly normal for all young men." I explained him.

I was his centre of gravity, it wasn't concerning for me to talk to him about his sexuality.

" I guess you are aware of what is occurring in your body, you are too brilliant not to know it." I continued.

" We talk about it at school about sex and stuff, but all of this happening to me is getting out of hand." he replied.

I thought about what to answer him. I was gonna be the one through this path but I reckoned that to maximize the outcome and reduce the awkwardness between us, it was more 'efficient' to let him watch an experienced couple have sex in real life with him.

" I do reckon for your first time experiencing sex in real life is better if you see a navigate couple doing it, more than having me telling you what to do or not to do." I affirmed. " My friend Momo is, for what I know, in a kind of open relationship with a man or more. I'm gonna ask her to set up a kind of masterclass for us in the next days."

His eyes sparkled, he was aware of who Momo was and how hot she looked.

" Are you sure Momo will be down to do it?" he gulped.

" It doesn't hurt to ring her and ask." I replied standing up to call her.

To confirm my idea she accepted immediately to have sex in front of us, she has always been a bit of a show-off. I had to give her that she created a career around her attitude, becoming one of the main attractions of the Crazy Horse.

I walked back to my baby who was looking at me with interest. " She is down to do it, the day after tomorrow it's her free day so she is down to help us." I explained.

He stood up and hugged me. " Thank you. You have always provided for me, I adore you." his voice was low and sweet as the candy floss.

I melted like snow under the summer sun and reciprocated the hug pulling him closer to me. His warm breath was on my neck and his hands were wrapped around my waist, I felt him pressing his body against mine.

It was the first time that he had touched me with so much affection. I couldn't stop my body from reacting to him and my nipples became hard. The place between my legs became wet and tingly.

I pecked his soft lips, he parted them and our tongues met in a dance. His kisses were soft and sweet, they made me feel so warm inside.

I pulled out before things could go out of control. " Wait for a few days and then we will figure it out what to do." I asserted. " Be aware that I kissed because I really wanted to."

I broke and walked back into the kitchen sensing his eyes on me as I walked away.

The D-day came fast, Momo had told me to go to her place at ten sharp. I had dinner with my baby, he was tensed like a violin cord.

I was wearing a simple outfit composed of a black T-shirt, a black short skit and a pair of black heels.

I had wavy hair for the occasion, and my legs were on full display. He had stared at them since I wore this outfit before dinner, I was very conscious of the effect I was having on him.

" Stop fidgeting, with the food. We are gonna be late if you don't get a move." I opined cleaning the last bits of food on my plate.

He almost choked on the mouthful of spaghetti he was swallowing. He had to cough for a while and his eyes became glassy from the effort. " Sorry, sorry." he managed to say. His face was red from the effort and his blue eyes were shining, he looked like an angel.

I laughed at the sight and walked towards the door. " Come on. Let's go." I told him grabbing my coat from the coat rack.

We walked in silence until we got to Momo's door, it was raining. "Rules are simple, we watch and you don't touch anything that isn't consented to by Momo or me." I warned him.

He nodded while we took the lift to her front door. Momo welcomed us wearing a ridiculous cream corset and white panties, her tits were barely contained by the corset and the rest of the body was naked.

" Welcome to Momo's house." She said spinning around to let us see her body.

" What a show-off." I affirmed in my mind. My baby was stunned by her look, he didn't even step into the flat. I had to drag him inside pulling his arm.

" Good evening Mina." a low and seductive voice called me. I diverted my gaze from Momo meeting Jean-Pierre's eyes.

" Bugger. Why did you call him in for tonight?" I hissed speaking to Momo.

Jean-Pierre was a casting member at the Crazy Horse. His skin was black as a night sky, his body was muscular and well-defined. Not to mention he had one of the most impressive dicks I've ever seen. It was a beast, it would be hard to believe that someone could manage to swallow it entirely. He had a very specific role in Momo's sex life and he didn't even need to explain. He was the bull in her stable and she was the cowgirl.

"Don't be a prude Mina. I know you have indulged some nights, over the last years with him." she replied. " You know he more than a good fuck."

I got red in the face feeling embarrassed. My baby eyes were on me and Jean-Pierre, I could see his brain trying to elaborate on what he had just heard.

Momo was right, I couldn't deny her affirmation. I had met him a few times in the past in those moments when I needed to release the stress without having to worry about any repercussions.

" Shall we begin." I tried to change the subject in question.

Momo nodded leading us towards the principal bedroom. The light was dimmed and the room was filled by the scent of jasmine and lavender.

My baby walked towards me, he stood beside me and his body touched mine. I tried my best to ignore the reaction of my body, but it was hard to ignore him, especially given how he looked. He was so handsome that I wanted to kiss him all over his body.

Jean-Pierre and Momo got naked in a heartbeat, Momo walked towards us, giving a soft kiss on my lips and then she walked towards my baby and kissed him as well.

Jean-Pierre came next to Momo, his dick was already half hard and pointing towards the sky.

" Wanna touch it?" he smirked at me.

I ignored him, trying not to blush even more."Don't be a dick." Momo came to help me.

She grabbed his arms and pulled him towards the bed, leaving me and my baby to watch.

They started kissing each other passionately, their tongues entwined and their hands were all over each other's body. Momo moaned when Jean-Pierre's fingers started stroking her pussy. She was already dripping wet, her juices were leaking down her legs.

I glanced at my baby and I saw him watching the scene in front of him, his eyes were wide with wonder.

Jean-Pierre grabbed Momo by the hair pulling her head back and exposing her neck to him. He started kissing her neck and sucking on it. Momo started panting when he moved lower and sucked on her tits. His dick was fully hard now, I could see it rubbing against her pussy.

Momo tried to rub herself against it but he held her still. " I'll let you come when I want to." he murmured in her ear.

" Please Jean-Pierre." she begged.

He let her go and she knelt in front of his dick. She took it in her hands and started sucking on the head, she was drooling all over it. " You are such a good girl." he complimented her.

He pushed her head down making her take his dick as much as she could in her mouth. Her eyes were wide open, and her hair was covering his lower abdomen. His dick was so big it wasn't able to fit entirely in her mouth, it was leaking pre-cum on her lips and the floor.

" Good girl." Jean-Pierre moaned face-fucking her without any mercy. She gagged loudly, obviously in pain. " Swallow my cock." he commanded her.

She nodded and started bobbing her head, her lips were stretched to the limits around his shaft. She had tears running down her cheeks, she was struggling to take his dick in her mouth.

Jean-Pierre pulled her off him, she was gasping for air. " Go on all four on the bed." he commanded her.

She did as told. " Now I'll gonna make you come." Jean-Pierre promised. He positioned himself behind her and grabbed his dick with one of his hands. He rubbed it against her pussy and pushed the head in.

Momo started moaning loudly, he was pushing his cock in inch by inch, and her pussy was stretched to her limits to fit him.

He began pounding her aggressively from the beginning, not letting her inside get used to his shaft.

" Bastard." was the only word Momo was able to pronounce before screaming as his dick botted out.

Her pussy was dripping wet around him, she was already cumming. He kept thrusting in and out of her, his dick moving in a perfect rhythm.

" You are such a greedy little girl." he said grabbing her hips, to make her feel more of his cock.

" Yes, daddy." she moaned.

I could see the pleasure on her face, her tits bouncing at every thrust. She was dripping wet and her pussy was gaping around his dick. I couldn't help but feel myself getting wet at the sight of the two of them.

Jean-Pierre's hand reached down and rubbed her clit, making her cum again. She screamed his name and he kept fucking her ruthlessly.

" Baby, sex isn't just about being wild and rough as he is doing. If you truly love your partner you will be more sensible to her feelings and desires." I explained to my baby. " Don't forget to always ask for consent."

" Yes, I won't forget." he responded. My arm was wrapped around his shoulder forcing him to lay his head on me, his hair smelled of fresh grass and mint, it made me feel warm inside.

" Daddy, I want more." Momo screamed. Jean-Pierre picked up the pace of his thrusts, his breathing was heavy and his skin was glistening with sweat.

His dick popped out of Momo's pussy and he stroked it with his hand. Momo was shaking and trembling from the pleasure.

" Come on my face." Momo commanded him. He did as told, his cock spurted out a long stream of cum on her face and tits.

He laid down on the bed, his dick was still hard. He grabbed her by the hair and made her lick her own cum from his dick.

Momo obliged cleaning him entirely and sucking his cock once more, she took it in her mouth and started bobbing her head again.

His eyes were closed and he was panting, his hips were bucking towards her mouth. His dick grew even harder if it was possible.

" Swallow my cum." he ordered her.

Momo obeyed him and sucked him harder. He groaned and came in her mouth, filling her throat with his seed.

She swallowed everything he gave her and then licked his cock clean, she let him go when he was completely spent.

She crawled back to us and kissed me on the lips. " That was quite funny." She opined.

My son stared at her big tits with lust. His eyes were wide and his pupils dilated. I could feel him hard against me. He was still staring at Momo with hunger. " Go on." Momo said in a seductive tone. " Fuck me."

Jean-Pierre sat up, his eyes fixed on my baby's body. " Go on, he's your toy. Do with him as you please." Jean-Pierre declared.

He got up from the bed and walked towards the bathroom to clean himself.

My baby was still staring at Momo, he hadn't moved a muscle. " What are you waiting for?" Momo asked him. " Come on." she said spreading her legs.

" Don't rush him, he is still a virgin." I stated.

" Mum, I want you to be my first." he said cutely.

" I will baby, but now just go to Momo and have some fun." I incited him.

" Come here and fuck my tits." she declared squeezing her tits in her hand.

He walked towards her slowly, his blue eyes were on Momo and he was licking his lips. He dropped his trousers and his dick sprang out. He was hard and it was leaking of precum.

He knelt on the bed and grabbed Momo's tits, squeezing them hard. His dick started rubbing against Momo's body, he was already moaning.

" To be a white boy you got yourself a nice cock." Momo complimented him.

" Thank you." he answered shyly. He looked at me for a second before leaning in and kissing Momo on the lips.

His hips started bucking against hers and his cock was sliding up and down her body, leaving a trail of precum behind.

Momo pressed her tits together creating a narrower tunnel where my son was thrusting desperately. I could only imagine the sensations she was feelings having those big melons rubbing against his dick.

His moans were getting louder, his hands were grasping the bedboard, and she was letting him do as he pleased.

I felt myself wetting at the sight, it was so arousing to see him being pleasured like that. His body trembled after a good fifteen minutes, anticipating his climax.

Momo sensed it as well. " Lie on the bed, I'll finish you off with my mouth." she pushed him to lie on the mattress and got on top of him. She grabbed his cock in her hands and stroked for a few seconds before diving her head on it.

Her lips wrapped around his shaft and her tongue started licking it. She was sucking on him greedily, she knew how to do it. I felt my nipples growing hard at the sight.

He was moaning loudly and his hips were bucking up towards her mouth. He grabbed her head and pushed her further on his dick, making her take as much as she can.

" Swallow my cum." my son moaned, his eyes were shut tight.

She obeyed him and started sucking harder. My son's eyes flew open and he came in her mouth with a loud moan.

His cock spurted out jets of cum inside her mouth and she swallowed them all without leaving a drop. His cock twitched in her mouth for a few seconds more before she released it with a loud pop.

Momo crawled back to me, her lips and chin were covered with my son's cum. She grabbed me by the hair and pulled me in for a kiss. I could taste my son's seed on her tongue, it tasted sweet like a caramel.

"He tastes better than anyone I sucked before." she whispered in my ear. I could only agree with her assertion.

" Son, it's time to go home." I told him collecting his clothes scattered on the floor.

We dressed in silence and we went back to our place. My son was walking in silence, his head bowed.

We walked into my bedroom, his eyes locked on mine, he undressed himself again and he grabbed me by the waist, pushing me on the bed. I let him, I knew what he wanted.

He undressed me and started kissing me on my lips, his kiss was soft and gentle. I felt my body melting at the touch of his lips on mine.

His mouth moved down my body until it reached my pussy, I was already wet and aching to be filled.

He started licking my pussy, his tongue was dancing on my skin. I moaned loudly as he touched my clit with his tongue.

He was devouring my cunt savouring the juice that was licking out. The only thing I could do was to push his head deeper into me.

I came hard on his face, my juices gushed out, and he drank it all. He licked my pussy clean and then came to kiss me again, letting me taste myself on his tongue.

" Please fuck me, baby." I begged him, he looked hesitant for a moment.

" I'm afraid not to last enough inside of you." he breathed out.

He was so cute in this situation. " Just take me as you please and don't worry of anything else." I incited him.

He positioned himself between my legs and grabbed his cock in his hands, he rubbed it against my pussy, letting his precum mix with my own juices.

" Please." I begged him again. He pushed himself in, his dick stretching my pussy out so good.

He was gentle inserting inches by inches inside my cunt till he had buried himself completely inside me. I moaned at the sensation of being full, he felt so good inside me.

" Move, baby." I murmured. “I’m all yours."

He leaned on my body, resting his head on the crook of my neck, his breath was hot on my skin. He began thrusting in and out my body slowly, he was trying to last as long as he could.

" Harder." I whispered in his ear.

He obliged me picking up the pace and fucking me like an animal, his hips bucking wildly against mine. His balls were smacking my ass loudly and my tits were bouncing with every thrust.

I was in total bliss of pleasure, his dick was big enough to satisfy me completely without hurting too much.

" If you keep going like this, you are gonna make cum again." I purred into his ear obtaining a bite on my neck.

My hands scratched the soft skin of his back making him groan and sped up his pace, he was fucking in earnest.

"Oh fuck." I moaned wrapping my legs around his waist forcing him to go deeper in me. " I'm cumming." I screamed.

He fucked me through my orgasm, his dick twitching inside me, his pelvis grinding against mine.

" I can't hold it back anymore." He cried out. I kissed his lips passionately, taking control of my actions.

" My pussy is yours, fill me whenever you are ready." I whispered in his mouth.

He lost all the control he had. His lips sucked my lower lip like it was a sweet, his hips motioned wildly for two minutes more before erupting. He came copiously, ropes of cum spurting out of his dick and filling me entirely.

His thrusts slowed down until he came to rest inside of me, his dick still throbbing with pleasure. He broke our kiss, looking me in the eyes. He smiled shyly at me.

" Thank you, mum." he said softly.

" Anytime, baby." I responded and kissed his forehead.

He pulled out of me, his dick wet with my juice and his seed. He cleaned it on the sheet and then crawled in my arms, his head resting on my chest. I wrapped him in my arms holding him tight as he looked at me with love and devotion.

I kissed his head and looked at the digital alarm on my nightstand he had lasted a little less 10 minutes inside of me and he had made me cum. It wasn't a bad performance per se but it was far away from the best I've ever had.

" Good first time, for someone like you." I told him.

His body stiffened, his eyes didn't show love anymore. " Someone like me." he quoted my words. "I get what you are not saying."

He broke my hug and rolled out of the bed his face was a mask of sadness and anger.

" Baby you misunderstood me." I tried to defend myself by sitting on the bed.

" I did not. I've clearly seen with Momo and that man what someone well-endowed can get out of a woman. Someone like me isn't born with those genes." he remarked. " Speaking of genes, my biological parents literally abandoned me. You just tried to polish someone else's garbage." his voice was broken but he didn't cry. He seemed to truly believe what he was saying.

Bowing he left the room. No slamming of the door, no screaming, no crying, he was painfully calm.

I went to his door, which was closed, sobbing I stated. " All you said is wrong. You are my treasure."

I waited for a few minutes without getting any response, it was getting way to late not to sleep so I got back to my bed sobbing to sleep.

The day after I knew he had an early morning class at the Opera so I took my time to get there following my schedule of trainings.

I walked into the main dancing studio where almost all the dancers were rehearsing for the upcoming play.

" Come on. Do a proper Grand Jeté." Mr.Lafayette exclaimed.

I moved a little bit to watch who was jumping and my eyes landed on my son, who was in the middle of the jump when he met my gaze; losing control of his body. He landed crashing on the wooden floor, he immediately screamed in pain touching his right knee.

He was hitting the floor with his hand, I was there in a flash. " Baby, I'm here." I murmured kneeling beside him. " Let me see what you have done to your knee."

His blue eyes were brimming with tears. " Don't touch it." Mr. Lafayette yelled. " We cannot do anything for him till the paramedics are here."

" If I'm correct, and rarely I'm not about this kind of event he has broken the ACL. His career is over." He concluded by speaking with decades of experience in the dance world.

My son laughed hysterically. " Just great, I screwed up the only thing I was barely decent at."

I could feel myself dying inside, my baby was broken, his career was over and he was feeling so miserable. I knew I had to take care of him. " It's not a problem, you can do something else."

" Such as? The only thing I'm good at is dancing, now that's gone." He sighed. I was about to retort but the ambulance staff arrived making everyone move.

I stayed there frozen, it was like someone had punched me in the gut. " Mina, get a move." I heard Mr. Lafayette's voice.

My son was put on a stretcher ready to be carried on the ambulance. "Anyone who wants to follow him?" One of the paramedics asked.

I raised my arms to make me noticed, but Mr.Lafayette put my arm down. " We need you here, the first play of the new show is in 36 hours." there was nothing wrong in his statement if not my willingness to follow my baby.

" Let's go please." My son yelled and the ambulance staff did his job carrying him to the vehicle.

My heart sank one more." Mina, I'll be in touch with the hospital. Do not worry." Mr Lafayette affirmed patting my back.

The rehearsal kept going, I performed at the best I could even though I was far from my usual standard. We ended up dancing when it was over midnight, it was pointless to rush to the hospital now, they would have never let me go through.

" Mina, I'm deeply sorry to inform you that the medics confirmed my idea about the injury. He will be under surgery in two hours from what I've told." He affirmed. " Tomorrow I'll start a casting to find a new dancer for his position in the ballet." he concluded.

I nodded accepting his decision and walked out of the room. I went to the dressing room and changed back my clothes. I grabbed my bag and left the Opera Garnier.

It was still raining, my eyes were brimming with tears and my heart was aching. My baby was about to go under surgery and I wasn't by his side, I've never felt so miserable.

The next day was as awful as the previous one, with hours and hours of dancing to get ready for the first play. The chance to see my son today seemed a mirage.

" Mina, I've been informed that your son will be discharged today at 5 pm. I'm sorry but I cannot let you go home that early he will be assisted by some para-medics during the whole process." He told me.

I did my best to focus on what I was doing to wrap up the day as soon as I could to rush home to my baby.

The time seemed to slow down but we got finally to the end of the day, I rushed to my flat to find my baby lying on the sofa, he had a bandage on his knee.

" Hi, baby." I saluted him. "How are you feeling?"

" Like shit, literally shit." he hissed. " My world has crumbled apart, I don't have anything more." his voice was awfully sad.

He started crying, his whole body was shaking from the grief.

I could not stay away anymore, I rushed to his side and took him in my arms. I held him tightly. " Everything will be alright, baby. Your mother is here." I soothed him. He let himself go, his body relaxed in my embrace and he continued crying.

" I despise myself." he confessed. " I despise everything about me."

" Don't say such things." I rebuked him. "You are the best thing that has happened in my life." I declared kissing his forehead.

His blue eyes looked up at me, they were brimming with tears. " Sweetening the reality won't change anything." He affirmed bitterly.

" What are you talking about?" I asked him. He grabbed my hands and placed them on his face. His cheeks felt so soft under my hands, I loved him so much.

"You are beautiful, you are perfect in every single way." He explained to me. " I have been broken since I got abandoned by my parents, you tried to fix me but the cracks are still there. I don't deserve a person like you in my life." He said sadly.

His words hurt me, I felt like I was losing him. I tried not to break down in tears. I looked at him straight in the eye, my gaze was firm. " You are wrong." I affirmed. " You are the one I've always needed, you are the best thing I've ever known." I was telling him the truth, I loved him more than words could explain. " Your parents are the ones who don't deserve you. You are such a good kid." I stated, my voice was getting weaker.

He laughed bitterly. " Little white lies. I have got a broken knee, I've failed you and myself. I've proved not to satisfy you properly, I'm just someone you spoiled over the years without getting anything. I'm a failure."

"You are not, baby." I soothed him.

I couldn't take anymore. He was breaking my heart more and more. " I'll go to take a shower, don't move from here." I ordered him.

He nodded and I went into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I let myself fall on the ground crying out loud. I cried and cried till my body didn't have any more tears to produce.

I cleaned my tears and took a shower. I dressed up in a nightgown and got back into the living room. He was still on the sofa. He looked up at me. His blue eyes were red from the tears, his hair was a mess and he looked so sad. I sat beside him and took his hand.

I kissed the back of his palm softly. " Do you know how much I love you?" I questioned.

" I do. You gave me a home and all I own, I owe you everything." he replied.

" Don't you love me?" I asked back.

" I very much do, but I don't deserve you in the slightest.” he affirmed. " You should aim for someone better than me, it should not be too daunting."

I've had enough of his attitude, I slapped him on his cheeks." Enough is enough. I love you and I know you do as well, we are together whether you like or not." I felt better after my outburst.

" Please kiss me." he said on the verge of crying again.

" I will kiss you till the end of the days, but stop whining you have me by your side." I stated kissing him. His lips were soft and warm, they tasted like the Earl Grey tea he loved.

His hand cupped my neck and he pulled me closer for a deeper kiss. His tongue touched mine and it made my heart flutter.

I broke the kiss, I wanted to see him happy, so I did the only thing I could think of. " Come with me." I stood up pulling him with me, his eyes looked at me confused.

I took him into the bedroom and got him to sit on the edge of the bed. He watched me undress myself completely, his eyes were wide open in awe.

" You are so beautiful." he murmured.

I grabbed his hands and made him touch my breasts. He cupped them in his palms pinching my nipples. " Do you like what you see?" I asked. He nodded, he was already hard. I kneeled on the ground and took his cock in my mouth. He gasped and his hand reached my hair.

I sucked him gently, licking him from the base to the tip. He moaned when I licked his head, it was so big and delicious. He was leaking precum in my mouth and it tasted sweet, I swallowed it all.

" Can I fuck your mouth?" he asked shyly.

I nodded and he started pushing his cock down my throat. I sucked him for a good minute before he came inside my mouth. I swallowed all of him and licked his cock clean.

" It's my turn." I said making him lie on the bed.

I straddle his hips paying attention not to touch his knee and rubbed my pussy against his hard cock. He groaned feeling how wet I was. His hand grabbed my tits and pinched my nipples.

" Take me, Mina." he moaned.

I lifted my hips and lowered myself on him, he filled me completely. His cock felt so good stretching my pussy out. His hand touched my waist and his pelvis started bucking up.

" Ride me, please." he asked softly.

I started bouncing up and down on him. His cock was sliding in and out of my pussy so good. His hands were groping my tits and his breathing was heavy.

" Yes, baby." I moaned riding him. " Yes."

He groaned in response. His hips were moving faster and faster, his cock was going deep in my pussy.

I lowered my torso lying on him, my lips trailing a path of wet kisses on his neck. His arms wrapped around my back locking me in that position, his hips pounded me way faster than he did the first night. My climax came out of nowhere, I squirted on his body shuddering in his arms.

His lips met mine and took control of the kiss, sliding his tongue inside my mouth he started licking me like a wild animal.

He was so close to ejaculate, I could feel his cock throbbing inside me. I started grinding my pussy against him, I wanted him to feel how wet and warm I was.

"Oh god." he groaned. " Mina." his cock spurted out cum deep inside me and his body went limp.

I rode him through his orgasm, my inside was filled to the brim with his seed.

I laid on his chest, his arms were still wrapped around my back. " I love you." he whispered. His voice was soft and his breath was hot on my skin.

" And I love you." I responded kissing him again. He tasted so good and sweet. We fell asleep in each other's arms. My heart beating for him and his beating for me.

He woke up a few hours later, I could hear him sobbing silently. He was still holding me tight. " What's wrong?" I asked him softly, kissing his cheek.

" Nothing." he lied.

" Tell me." I insisted.

" I'm scared of losing you." he affirmed. His voice was so sad that I had tears running down my cheeks.

" Do not worry, baby. I will never leave you." I promised. " You are mine." I added kissing his lips.

The next day I had the first play of the new show, and my baby had to stay home due to his condition. I'd have loved to have him there watching me, luckily all went as good as planned. We got 5 minutes of standing ovation, I felt so proud of myself.

After the standing ovation, the whole troupe of dancers went to a restaurant to celebrate the success of the show. I drank more than I ever did, feeling that I deserved it after all the troubles I went through in the past few days.

Jean-Pierre was there with us, he ended up sitting beside me and we talked for a while. I was drinking my second glass of wine when he kissed me. The kiss was wild and passionate, his tongue was dancing against mine.

The party ended up sooner than I expected and Jean-Pierre accompanied me home. He kept kissing me the whole way, his hands were all over my body.

We got to my front door and he kissed me again. His hands were rubbing my thighs under my white skirt and his dick was already hard against me.

" Do you want to get inside and have some more fun?" he whispered in my ear.

I nodded shyly. I couldn't deny him anything, his touch felt too good and my control was gone by the alcohol.

" We have to be quiet." I murmured opening the door.

My baby was on the sofa sleeping.

Jean-Pierre's hands were still groping me, he closed the door behind us and pushed me against it, kissing me wildly. His dick was pushing against my stomach, I was melting in his embrace.

" Oh god." I moaned. His lips left a trail of kisses on my neck, I had goosebumps all over my body.

" Strip yourself." Jean-Pierre ordered me. His tone was low and commanding, I felt myself getting wet.

I obeyed him and took off my white top, leaving my body bare from the waist up. His eyes feasted on my tits, they were already hard from the stimulation.

He lifted me up on his shoulder like I was a feather, once in front of the sofa besides the one my son was sleeping he made me stand up while he plopped on the empty sofa.

" With all the house free to fuck you picked it here." I asserted whisper-shouting.

" I wanna see how long you are gonna be able to stop your screaming while I fuck you." he smirked and remove the last piece of clothing he had on.

His dick was hard and pointing at me, the head was leaking precum. " Get on your knees." he ordered. " And suck me." his tone was cold and commanding.

I had to admit that it turned me on, I loved being dominated by him. I obeyed his command and kneeled in front of him, taking his cock in my hands. I licked the head, tasting his precum and savouring the sweetness.

" Suck it, don't lick it." he growled.

I opened my mouth as wide as I could and sucked him in, he hit the back of my throat with his length, making me gag. He grabbed my hair and made me suck him deeper.

" Swallow me." he ordered. I obeyed him, I knew he would not stop until I did as he pleased.

He started fucking my mouth in earnest, his thrusts were merciless and his grip on my hair was hurting. Tears were streaming down my cheeks but it was not enough for him to stop, he kept going till my whole face was wet.

" Good girl." he praised me. He pulled his cock out of my mouth and signalled me to turn around. He took me on his lap in a reverse cowgirl position; my hands were on his chest to balance myself.

His cock rubbed against my pussy, it was dripping wet from the sucking. I gasped when he pushed the head inside me, my pussy was stretched to its limits, his dick felt way bigger than I remembered.

He filled me up easily, his butt was out of the sofa making him able to fuck me with all his might. He held my waist and started pounding me, his cock slid in and out of my pussy at a very fast pace.

My pussy was stretched out by his cock and fucked me wildly, making my tits bounce with every thrust. His pelvis slapped my ass loudly. I bit my lips to keep my moans silent.

He manoeuvred his hand on my cunt, and his fingers rubbed my clit furiously, bringing me on the verge of cumming.

He sped up his motion, the head of his dick was hitting my G-spot, making me feel too good. " FUUUCK.” I screamed at the top of my lungs unable to keep my mouth shut.

My body started trembling and my pussy spasmed around him, cumming on his cock.

He kept pounding me through my orgasm, his hand were holding me in place on his lap and I could do nothing but take it. His pace was fast and merciless. He was using my pussy as he pleased, I was just a toy for him, a vessel to be fucked and used.

My eyes darted towards my son who was now fully awake, he was looking at me with an unreadable expression.

Jean-Pierre kept plowing me as mighty as he could, sending shivers down my spine. My pussy was dripping wet around his dick, it was making squelching noises every time he thrust in and out.

"Stop immediately." I urged him. My voice was weak and I was trembling from the pleasure.

He did as told. His cock popped out of me and I collapsed on the floor, he stayed seated on the sofa behind me.

" Get out of this house." I ordered him.

" Are you leaving me with blue balls?" he smirked taking his fat cock in his hand.

" Yesss. Now move your ass and get out." I yelled slowly crawling on the floor towards my son, my legs were numb from all the dance of the last few days and the orgasm I just had.

" If I must, I will." he agreed. He put his clothes back on and walked away from me. " You can call me if you need anything else." He sent me a flying kiss before leaving the flat.

I crawled to my son's feet and looked at him with my eyes full of tears. He was staring at me with a blank expression, his face was a mask.

" Baby." I cried. " I'm so sorry." I hugged him.

He sighed loudly. " Why did you bring him here?" his voice was way too calm.

" Baby, I've drunk too much and things got out of hand. But please let me tell you that he is not better than you. He has a bigger member but you please me as he does, but you don't hurt me and you don't make me feel like an object to be fucked." I confessed sobbing.

His arms pulled me up on his body, and his lips met mine. His kiss was soft and gentle, his tongue licked my lower lip.

"Calm down, I got what you said." he soothed me. " Relax, please."

I melted his arms. " Let me take you to bed." I helped him to my bedroom.

" Once my leg feels better I promise I'll be more active in bed." his voice was sweet as honey.

" Baby, don't worry. You have to go through some rough months with the rehab." I acknowledged. " Now you just gotta lie on the bed, and I'll do the work for us."

I deposited his body on my mattress and carefully removed his clothes. " Wait here, I'll shower quickly. I don't want to mix any trace left by my error with you."

A few minutes later I came back in my room, my hair was still a bit damp from the shower. He was lying on the bed staring at me like a lion staring at a gazelle.

" You are outrageously good looking." he spoke, I had never been complimented like that.

" You got yourself to be fucked, as hard as I can go." I warned him, smirking.

His eyes were wide open and he nodded eagerly.

I climbed on the bed and started kissing him from the neck, he moaned loudly when I sucked his skin.

" Let me mark you as mine." I smirked biting his neck a few times, planting a series of hickeys.

His moans were music to my ears, he was so sweet.

I went further down on his body kissing and sucking every inch of his skin. I was kneeling between his legs when I got to the promised land, his cock was hard and pointed at the sky. It was already leaking precum, he tasted so good when I lapped it out.

" Mina." he begged me.

I smiled wickedly at him and wrapped my mouth around his dick. His hands tangled in my hair pushing me deeper on his cock, he was thrusting in and out of my mouth.

" Swallow me, you good girl." he ordered me.

I did as told, swallowing every drop of cum he gave me. My tongue licked his shaft clean and I kissed the head before releasing him with a loud pop.

" I'll take good care of you, baby." I declared. I was in love with him, he was able to dominate me but never crossed the red line.

I rubbed his spent dick; it was still half-hard. " Please fuck me now." he pleaded.

" You'll have to wait a bit, I want you to recover." I teased him, swirling my tongue around the head of his cock.

I bobbed my head along his shaft a few times getting him rock hard again.

I let his cook free from my mouth and crawled up on his body. His lips met mine and his hands grasped my hips making me straddle him.

I was rubbing my pussy on his dick, getting wetter by the second. I could feel how much he wanted to be inside me, his dick was leaking precum like crazy.

I leaned on his chest and kissed him passionately. I lifted my ass and positioned him at the entrance of my cunt. I slowly took him inside me, inch by inch.

His moans were getting louder with every inch I took of him. My pussy was stretched by his girth, his dick felt so good inside me.

When he was fully inside me I planted my hand on his chest and started to grind myself on him. His dick has bottomed out inside me and I could feel the head hitting my G-spot.

" Oh gosh, you are hitting my sweat spot" I moaned keeping up the pace.

He positioned his hands on my hips, helping me to grind faster and faster. The pleasure made my mind foggy and my eyes unfocused. My pussy clenched around him, and my moans became one single note.

" Baby, I'm gonna cum." I declared.

His hands slapped my ass loudly and he kept fucking me through my orgasm. The waves of pleasure went through my body making me squirt all over the place.

My body collapsed on his chest, panting soundly. My love caressed my back for a few seconds before closing his arms and holding me in place.

He started to pound me wildly, hitting my G-spot with every thrust. " I'm too sensitive." I yelled.

" I know you are enjoying it." was his reply.

" I fucking do." I moaned in his ear. His hands slapped my ass repeatedly like it was a drum.

His hips were on over-drive, I arched my back and felt the second orgasm building inside me. This time it would be a bigger one.

" Oh, god." I moaned as the wave of pleasure engulfed me.

Another flood of my juice just went to drench his body and the bedsheets.

" Please cum, I can't take it anymore." I begged him resting my head on the crook of his neck.

He fucked harder for a few more minutes I found the energy to lick his face and neck like a hungry wolf, he groaned and his cock twitched inside me.

" Do it, baby, fill me up to the goddamn brimmmm." I hissed.

He buried his dick deep inside of me for yet another time and came with a loud moan. His warm seed flooded my insides and his cock kept pulsating inside me for a good minute.

We lay there entwined in each other's arms till our breathing calmed down and our bodies were not trembling anymore.

I rolled off him, my body was sore but in the best possible way, it felt like I was floating on clouds. He wrapped his arms around me pulling me in an embrace. His lips were soft and warm against mine.

" You gave me the best sex I've ever had." I confessed. " Let me rephrase that; it was the best love I've ever had."

" I cannot live without you, you make me feel special." he replied making me feel on cloud nine.

" Likewise baby, I love you." I confessed again drifting to sleep in his arms.

When morning came I informed the company that I would have taken at least six months off, I needed to take care of my loved one. Mr. Lafayette didn't like the idea but he was forced to do as I wanted promising to let me get back as soon as I was ready.

" Mina, where are you?" I heard my baby calling me from my bedroom. He looked so angelic still half asleep. I felt my heart swelling of love for him.

I joined him on the bed. " I just called the company to take some time off, to take care of your rehab."

His eyes brightened, we were gonna be spending months and months together. I couldn't understand what kind of pain he was feeling because I had been lucky enough not to get injured that badly.

" I booked an appointment with a physiotherapist, she will be here at around 3 pm.” I informed him getting a thankful kiss on the cheek.

I helped him get a bath to remove all the dried cum from the night before and got him dressed. He sat on the sofa while I went into the kitchen to prepare something to eat.

We waited for the physiotherapist on the sofa, my head was resting on his shoulder.

When the doctor arrived I frowned, she was way too pretty for my liking.

I went closer to my son and whispered. " Don't do anything stupid with her or I'll cut your dick off." he gulped at my threat. I knew he understood me well.

I took my son to the doctor and left them alone in the bedroom to do their job. I went back to the living room and laid on the couch looking for some yoga plan to practice at home, I had to maintain my flexibility.

I heard them closing the bedroom door and walked to the living room, she had a smile on her lips and my son had his cheeks flushed. I got jealous for a moment and mimicked the movement of a pair of scissors closing. His flush deepened and the doctor giggled. I ignored her and took my baby in my arms claiming my property over him.

"He will be able to walk without any problem in six months. I'll visit him three times a week but you gotta help him exercise for a few times a day." the doctor instructed me before leaving us alone.

" Do I need to grab a pair of scissors?" I teased him. No, Mina." he moaned in response. " I would never do that."

I kissed him on his forehead and pulled him against me. " Of course you wouldn't." I whispered. I loved him so much that my heart could burst at any moment.

" Mina, I need your help with the exercises." He stated looking at me with his big blue eyes. I kissed him again, he was mine.

"I'll do anything to help you." I replied kissing him again.

The all process of getting back on his feet was tough for the bought of us, the exercises tired him more than he wanted to admit but he kept up with me.

When he started to walk on his feet again barely I was constantly by his side, a few times he fell without compromising the knee.

" You are too stubborn, let me hold your arm." I yelled at him helping him up from the floor.

His eyes got watery. " Please, don't be mad at me." his voice made me hug him closer to my chest.

" I'm sorry baby, it's just that has been months since we've been out of this house for more than a day." I caressed his hair. " I'm just frustrated and worried about you."

He snuggled on my chest. " I'll follow your lead more diligently." he promised.

I smiled and kissed the top of his head. " That's a good boy." I praised him. He loved to be treated like that, it made him feel good.

The days kept passing and my baby was recovering at the speed of light. After six months from his injury, he was able to walk and run without any problem. I had kept my word and was back to my job as one of the main dancers of the company.

" Baby, do you want to join me for the new ballet?" I asked him. We were in my bed cuddling like we usually do after a day of dancing.

" Dance is a closed chapter for me." he stated sobbing. " I'm too afraid of getting hurt once more. You have been splendid with me in these six months, I don't know what I would do without you."

I felt a slight pang of disappointment, I had hoped he would get back to dance.

" You are gonna find your way, you have the potential to do all you want." I told him.

His eyes sparkled like he had come up with an idea.

" Tomorrow I'll get out quite early, do not worry" he asserted.

It was strange tomorrow was Sunday, where could he go on a Sunday morning?

My train of thought got interrupted by his hand on my tits, kneading them through my sleeveless black top.

" What you think you are doing?" I teased him.

" Turning you on." his began to lick my right armpit painting a trail of saliva under my collarbone before ending on the other armpit.

It made me feel so nasty. " Yes, you are baby. Give me more." I pleaded him. He kissed the space between my tits and then down my abdomen. His tongue danced on my skin, I felt like a goddess.

He reached for the elastic band of my skirt and pulled it down with his teeth, making them fall to the floor. I was wearing a thong, it had to be easy to remove but he decided otherwise.

His teeth bit my right thigh and pulled the fabric down, doing the same with the other leg.

" God." I moaned. I had never felt so horny.

He threw my underwear in the corner of the room. " Open your legs for me." he instructed me. I complied, letting him have access to my pussy. He kneeled in front of me and parted my lips with his thumb and index finger. He blew a hot stream of air on my pussy and I gasped.

He licked my clit lightly and his tongue went further down to the entrance of my pussy, teasing it before getting back up. My legs were trembling and my heart was pounding.

" Fuck me, baby." I begged him. " Fuck me with your tongue."

He obliged me and licked me up and down before focusing on my clit; he sucked it eagerly. I was moaning his name loudly, and my body was shaking from pleasure.

" Stop or I'm gonna cum." I warned him.

He laughed in response and kept sucking my clit like his life depended on it.

I grabbed his hair with my hands pulling it up. " You little brat." I said before pushing his head in my pussy.

He licked my hole, his tongue was fucking my pussy like a cock. I arched my back and my body went through an intense orgasm. I squirted all over his face, his chin and mouth were covered with my juice.

I pulled his head up to mine and licked my juice from his face thoroughly.

He kissed me again. " Lie on your stomach." he purred in my ears. " I wanna fuck you.”

I obeyed him and laid on my belly on the mattress. His cock was hard as steel, he slid it in between my ass cheeks and rubbed it against my back. He leaned on me, his body was covering mine completely. His lips brushed against my ear.

" Are you gonna fuck me?" I whispered.

" Yes, I am." his voice was so soft. He pulled my hair back, exposing my neck. His teeth bit me softly, I liked being marked by him, it was our way of expressing our love.

He positioned his cock at the entrance of my pussy waiting to fuck me. " How do you want it?" he asked me.

" Hard and without mercy." I replied. " Use me as you please."

He grunted at my words and pushed his cock inside me. It was like the whole universe had stopped, he filled me up like no one else could do.

" You feel so good." I moaned.

He started fucking me without mercy like I wanted, his dick was going in and out of me at a fast pace. His pelvis slapped my ass making me moan louder and louder.

My pussy was clenching around him like it never did before, I could feel another orgasm coming. " Baby, please go faster." I urged him.

He pounded me harder and faster, his breathing was heavy in my ear. I held the bedsheets in my fist trying to keep my whole body still.

His hands held my tits under my body, squeezing them hard. I liked it a lot, I was on the edge of coming.

" Oh god, oh god." I kept chanting like it was my mantra. He fucked me through my orgasm, his cock hit my G-spot over and over.

My orgasm was too intense, my whole body shook violently. His arms pulled me up till my back was leaning on his chest.

He sank his teeth in my shoulder making me shiver, his tongue licked the blood that came out from my flesh.

" Come with me." he pulled out and dragged me to the edge of the bed. He was standing outside of the bed, I spread my legs as wide as I could.

" Now I'll fuck your brains out." he promised. His cock slid in my wet cunt easily, his hands gripped onto my soft thighs. He was thrusting inside me like a wild animal. His hips were pounding my pussy at a fast pace, it felt so good, and my moans echoed throughout the whole flat.

" Oh god." I yelled loudly. His cock had hit my G-spot yet another time, another orgasm was incoming. I clenched my pussy around him, wanting to feel every inch of him.

" You are gonna make me cum again." I cried, his hands explored my body, and my tits became

his new toy.

His fingers pinched my nipples, making me scream in pleasure.

He was fucking me wildly and his hands groped my tits, my orgasm was yet another time stronger than the previous one. My whole body was convulsing violently; each thrust sounded wetter and wetter.

" Baby, you are splitting me apart." I moaned.

He lifted me up in his arms, my legs wrapped around his hips. He kissed me deeply before biting my lower lip, it felt so hot. His cock stayed deep inside me all the time, stretching me out to my limits.

His hands her on my ass cheeks and squeezed them hard, I moaned louder, I could feel my pussy getting even wetter.

He began to move my body up and down on him, his hands were on my ass. His cock was moving in and out of my cunt at a fast pace.

" Oh god, please don't stop." I begged him, my arms were wrapped around his neck.

" I won't, I promise." he whispered in my ear before biting it. His breath was hot on my neck, it made me shiver. His lips kissed my neck and his tongue licked my skin, leaving a trail of saliva.

He walked to the wall and slammed my back on it, fucking me in the earnest. My tits bounced with each thrust he gave me. His breathing was heavy on my ear.

I kissed the side of his neck and sucked a patch of skin, he moaned loudly. I sucked a little bit harder till his skin was red from the hickey, he gasped at the pain. I kept sucking it like a leech till it was dark red.

" I'm gonna cum again." I whispered in his ear, his whole body went stiff, and he started pounding me even harder.

His cock felt like it was expanding inside me and his pelvis slapped my ass, making me moan loudly. He fucked me through yet another orgasm.

My whole body was shaking from the pleasure. His hand cupped my face and kissed me deeply, his tongue danced with mine.

" Cum inside me." I moaned desperately. " Please." I begged him.

My beloved baby obeyed my request, making me jump on his cock driving me insane.

He moaned my name loudly and came inside me, filling my pussy with his warm seed. His dick throbbed inside me and he kept thrusting for a few seconds. I was trembling from the pleasure he gave me.

I kissed him, trying to take away the oxygen from his lungs. His hands held my head, not allowing me to separate from his lips.

He slowly made me stand on the floor, his cock slid out of my cunt with a wet squelch. My knees gave up and I collapsed on the ground, panting soundly.

Like a knight he carried me on his bed, mine was a mess.

" Sleep tight." he told me spooning me.

I woke up late, my body was shattered. My son's side of the bed was cold but still smelling like him, I was so chuffed to be with him.

My phone chimed on his nightstand, he might have brought it here before leaving.

The text was from him. " Hey, Mina. I went out to meet with a person, I'll be home soon."

I questioned who he could have wanted to meet on a Sunday.

My curiosity was answered a few moments later when my baby entered the flat holding a bunch of papers in his arms.

He kissed me on the lips. " I wanted to surprise you." he explained.

" Surprise me?" I repeated. He handed me the papers and I read what was written on it.

I was so happy I almost cried.

" It's my contract with the dance company, I asked to work as Mr Lafayette's assistant.” he affirmed proudly. " He told me to study to become a choreographer, while my day job will be to take care of a certain ballerina."

My eyes widened, and I hugged him tightly. " Thank you, thank you, " I said.

I knew that he had done it to be near me and I was so grateful. I kissed him deeply.

His beautiful blue eyes stared at me in adoration.

" Never divert your gaze from me. You are my baby blue love." My heart was stuck on him.

#twice smut #twice mina x male reader #twice mina #kpop x male reader #kpop fanfic #girl group smut

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yamujiburo · 8 months ago

Note

What is your favourite comic you have made?

I've made a lot of new ones since I was last asked this

I still like this one LOL

And more recently this one (love the jessie and ash dynamic of this au, can you tell?)

But also I like this one! A hint of angst which I don't usually do, immediately followed by Jessie housing down a full loaf of bread

#ask yam

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camillelespanayesbtch · 25 days ago

Text

Seven Devils All Around Me (18+)

Summary: It isn't your fault you like the feeling of power, the sensation was addictive, and although it never worked out well for those around you, it certainly worked well for you. You weren't to blame that people seldom survived attacking you, it was their fault after all. But you can only run for so long before your misdeeds catch up to you, and where will you be left after? It's dangerous to walk certain paths alone as a young witch.

Content: Eventual smut, graphic depictions of murder and violence, character death, power imbalance, manipulation, addiction, grief, discussion of sexual violence (r receiving) (I will add more as I think of them)

Word Count: 4690

Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

I will block minors and ageless bios

Chapter One

You hum to yourself as you follow the marks you carved into the trees, a hidden path you had created that left those who follow you believing you were the perfect victim, blissfully unaware of the danger that followed you. You could hear the boys talking among themselves, their gleeful snickering as they think about all the things they could do to you now that they had you alone and unaware. Like most evenings, the forest was a cacophony of sound, there wasn’t an inch of space where there was silence, every crevasse had sound, even the ants clicked to one another to inform the other of the crumbs of bread that were left abandoned on the floor of the community hall that hosted giants. The leaves crunch underfoot, small twigs snapping as you step on them, continuing to hum the tune until you come to a clearing in the forest.

There was a space where no leaves were, a perfect circle that had been made over years of the same trick, black as the night sky is dark. “Look boys,” Douglas says with a grin, “She’s made a spot for fucking, just for us.” He moves closer to you, the others surrounding you as well, all of them giving each other encouraging looks. They didn’t believe the stories about boys going missing because every coven had tales like that, even the girls were told tales about their powers being taken when lured to walk the witch’s road, but everyone believed that it was just the danger of the road and not one of their own doing it. “I wonder if her tits are as big as her top makes them look,” Douglas says, advancing on you quickly, his hands twitching by his side as he thinks about tearing your shirt from your body.

“I’ve seen them through her window when she changes,” Clint says, “They’re small, no bigger than a handful, but at least they’re perky.” He cracks his knuckles, his eyes glinting dangerously. This wasn’t his first time taking what he wanted, and it wouldn’t be his last, just like the other boys he was with- if he sees something he wants, he takes it. His mother did raise him to be respectful towards women, especially those in the coven, but she always spoke about you as being the exception. You were the freak of the group, the one people whispered about, warned the kids to stay away from least you corrupt them. So, really, what he and his friends were about to do wasn’t a bad thing, it was deserved. “We should take pictures and add them to the wall.”

“We should take pictures and add them to the wall,” you mimic, turning to face them. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to keep trophies? Or was that too much for your tiny little boy-brains to comprehend?” You run your fingers through your hair, letting out a sigh as you shake a few knots loose. You were hungry, and these boys would be enough to last you a few weeks. Sure, they weren’t as powerful as the elders, too jumped up on the testosterone coursing through their bodies to focus on mastering the craft, instead relying on brute force to get things done. “Didn’t mommy teach you better? Or even your fathers? No, I suppose not. No, daddy left you boys behind, didn’t he? Went off to go fuck some young maiden the next town over,” you make a vulgar gesture, thrusting your hips before laughing when you see the group clench their fists in anger. “Oh no, did I hurt your feelings? What’re you gonna do? Blast me?”

It would only take one. It only ever takes one, but they didn’t know that. Of course they didn’t know that they barely knew how to groom themselves let alone see the signs of a trap, to even see that sometimes there is truth in the tales they have been told since childhood. You mightn’t have believed the ones about the Purple Witch, but you wouldn’t deny that there is something alluring about her. The ability to take someone’s powers? You wondered what it felt like, if it was as addictive as watching people burn, using their own powers to cause their deaths. “Lucas and Clint, hold her down,” Douglas orders, his eyes burning into yours.

The two boys he orders raise their hands, their magic shooting from their hands and wrapping around your wrists. They both were smirking until they see the lopsided grin on your face, a darkness settling into your eyes. You breathe in deep through your nose, tilting your head back up to the sky as your eyes drift shut, feeling the warmth starting to spread through your body and bloom out from your palms, “Oh boys,” you exhale. “Silly, stupid, little boys.” Your head rolls forward and you open your eyes to look at them, a fire burning in your eyes that makes them take a step back. “Didn’t you hear the stories? Didn’t your mother tell you not to go into the woods at night?”

“She’s just- She’s just bluffing,” Douglas stutters, “She’s just trying to scare us.” He puffs his chest out in false bravado before moving closer to you, his hands coming up to tear the front of your blouse open, but he hisses in pain, pulling his hands back. Your body had grown hot to the touch, as though he had just put his hands over the hot embers of a campfire, “What trickery is this?”

“You haven’t figured it out, have you?” You yank your hands free of Clint and Lucas’ magic, grabbing a handful of Douglas’ shirt, and pulling him so his body was against yours, a feral grin spreading across your face. “Smell that?” You lean in, taking a deep breath as the scent of burning fabric starts to fill the air, “Maybe you can feel it. It’s getting hot, isn’t it? I wonder if I’ll see eyes explode this time like popcorn.” You stare at him intensely, your hands glowing like magma as you start to cook him from the inside out, feeling his energy seeping out of him and into you. You let out a content sigh a the sensation, watching as his eyes go wide, his skin turning a deep red before starting to melt from his muscles and bones. He cries out in agony, trying to get away from you, to put the fire out inside of him but it was of no use, and soon he falls to the ground, his body quickly going up in flames. “Now,” you smile and turn to look at the other boys who were looking on in horror, “Who’s next?”

“You’re a monster,” Clint says, clenching his fists, “He didn’t even do anything to you! We were just playing!” He was quick to attack you, seemingly forgetting what he had just witnessed you do to his friend. You eagerly drink his energy up, your body glowing like a reactor before his body turns into barbecue. He claws at his clothes, trying to remove the flaming fabric from his body as he writhes on the ground, his screams drowning out the music of songbirds. You wonder if the woods would muffle the sound so it didn’t carry to the houses that lived along the edge of it, that the neighbors wouldn’t have their windows open to let the warm spring breeze in. Then again, if you didn’t want them to hear, you simply shouldn’t be doing what you are, but you couldn’t help yourself, could you? You enjoy it too much. You enjoy luring men into the woods, using their own powers to burn them alive as some sort of penance for all the women burned before you because their power was seen as a threat.

You take a few breaths to calm yourself, looking at your hands, they were turning black, tendrils creeping up your forearm and tickling your inner-elbow. This happened every time, the only evidence of your crimes. They were easy to hide though, you wore long-sleeves, and had a pair of gloves that your mother gave you to protect you from the judgmental gaze of your coven. Your mother wasn’t consciously aware of what you were doing, thinking you were just going into the woods to practice your craft, but she couldn’t deny it was suspicious that boys kept going missing whenever you did.

The remaining boys fall quickly, you wave your hands, letting out a hot blast of fire that turns their remains to ash. You knew the rain would disperse the ashes, returning them to the earth and helping to keep the forest alive, although your circle never grew back- the grass has remained dead and black for years. You were in your twenties now, and you had been doing this since you were sixteen. You do the buttons back up on your blouse then pull your sleeves down, doing the cuff buttons up so the sleeves wouldn’t go out of place. You flick your hair from your face, a smile settling on your features as you start to head back, humming to yourself once more.

As you walk, you stop occasionally to pick some flowers for your mom, making a bouquet for her. Your father wasn’t around to do this for her, not that he had done such thoughtful things when he was alive, that had always been your thing. You loved making your mom smile because it meant she wasn’t worrying about anything which had become her normal. If she wasn’t worrying about you getting in trouble, she was worrying about the coven being run out of town, and if she wasn’t worrying about that, she was worrying about taxes which only seemed to go up every year. It’s not that you couldn’t afford the taxes, she had been around for centuries, she had more than enough money to cover them, but it was still an unnecessary stress in her life that she simply did not need. If you could get away with it, you would burn the tax collector alive, maybe even roast him over a fire like you would toast a marshmallow.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” A familiar voice asks, disappointment evident in her tone. “I tell them- I tell them every meeting that it isn’t you, that my daughter would never bring harm to her coven, and every time you go out and prove me wrong.”

You look up from the flowers you were examining, your features falling, “Mama… I- They attacked me,” you explain. “I was just coming here to practice, like you always want me to. And they followed me, taunting me, telling me all the horrible things they were going to do to me.” You turn your head slightly, just enough to see the open area out the corner of your eye that was a few hundred feet away by now before looking back at your mom. You try to smile, holding the sad looking bouquet out for her, “I picked you flowers. Your favorites. I know you like having fresh flowers in the house because you like when the bees-“

“Enough,” she cuts you off, “Enough,” she repeats, softer this time. She walks closer to you, a sadness on her face as she gently takes your free hand in hers- your skin was like charcoal, and still hot to the touch like the furnace in winter. Her heart aches painfully in her chest, why was her only child like this? Had she done something wrong? Those questions hurt her; how could she think so poorly of you? She loves you dearly, she would do anything for you, absolutely anything for you, why couldn’t you do this one thing for her? Her touch was soft, cooling your burning skin as she runs her fingers over it, your skin slowly turning back to your normal shade. She turns your hand over so your palm was facing her, running her finger in a circle on your palm, a small smile tugging on her lips, “Round and round the garden,” she whispers, “Went the teddy bear, one step,” she walks her finger up your forearm, healing as she goes, “two step,” another step onto your bicep, “Tickle you under there,” she says and gently tickles your underarm, a soft giggle escaping her. “You used to squeal whenever I did that to you as a toddler.”

You can’t help the quiet giggle you let out, unaware of the tears spilling from your eyes, “Mama,” you whisper back, “I’m not a little kid anymore.” She gives your arm a squeeze at that, looking pained by the reminder. You rest your hand over hers, looking remorseful immediately, “I know- I know I’m still your little girl. You still make my boo boo’s better.” You look down at your hands, they were no longer black as tar, and you could see the blue and purple of your veins on the backs of them instead of a deep red that glowed against the black. You felt a knot form in your stomach, “They’re gonna kill me, aren’t they, mama?” You ask her quietly, a waver in your voice. “For what I’ve done- They’re gonna burn me.”

Your mom blinks back tears but it was futile, the salty liquid running down her cheeks, “When they find out,” she replies softly, “Yes. They will.” She raises her hand to tenderly stroke your cheek, and as always, you lean into her touch. Her thumb brushes against your rosy skin, wiping away any tear that dared to fall. She didn’t know how long you would both have together, whether she could wash your hair and braid flowers into it, or whether now was the only time you two would get. “Why couldn’t you stop?”

“I can’t help it, mama, you know that,” you answer, your eyes closing as you relax into her touch. Her hands never caused the same pain and suffering that yours have, they have always healed and protected. There was never a moment where she didn’t help someone, where she turned them away when they showed up to the door pleading for her to make their sick child better. There was always a spare bed for the child or adult to recover, your mother watching over them during the night to ensure their condition didn’t worsen. You. You had always been the one to hurt, to harm, to inflict suffering and pain. Your mother, try as she might to get you to do things for the betterment of the coven such as burning the fields to return the nutrients to the earth, or helping start the bonfires for when there was a community barbecue, even trying to get you to take out the wolves that threatened the farm animals, but it never satiated you.

It wasn’t until you turned sixteen did it become a problem, but she brushed it off because you had been terribly bullied, she kept brushing it off when the first group of boys went missing. She had moved you both after that, found another coven. Six months of peace before it happened again. Every time, you would come home with blackened skin and a bouquet of flowers. She never had to worry about running out of dried flowers for her potions, the basement was full of them, your peace offerings to her. You always were so sincere in your apologies, and she believed you every time, why wouldn’t she? “They deserved it,” you add, “They were going to hurt me.”

“Not every single boy was out to hurt you, surely, sweetheart. What about Tommy? He was always so kind to you, he tutored you. You were friends.”

Tommy had been your friend two moves ago, you two had bonded over being excluded from most of the college class you were enrolled in, even the lecturer refused to acknowledge you in class. You both were good students, handing your assignments in on time and not once even asking for an extension. You thought you were just friends, you told him you only liked women, and he told you he was okay with it. You had gone over to his house one afternoon to study for an upcoming exam, the two of you were in his room on his bed reading notes when he had asked you if you’d ever kissed anyone before. The question made your skin crawl, “No,” you had answered, “I haven’t.” He got this look in his eyes at that answer, his hand had come up to turn your head to face him before he leaned in to kiss you, his tongue forced its way into your mouth, pocking and prodding your throat. You had frozen; your eyes wide as he assaulted you. It wasn’t until he had pulled back did the anger kick in. You don’t really remember much of what happened, only running out of the house as the fire department showed up to extinguish the flames, two of the firefighters checking over you for injuries. You had told your mother what happened, what he did, and she had brushed it off, saying it was just how it was done- nobody needed to ask for permission to kiss, it was spontaneous. You had cried in your room that night, you didn’t understand why your mom didn’t see why it was wrong of him to do that to you. She knew you liked women, why on earth would you ever want some man to kiss you?

“We- You know what he did to me, mama. He hurt me. He hurt me,” you tell her, more tears falling onto your cheeks, “He knew I didn’t like him like that. Every single one of them deserved it.” That wasn’t true, there had been a couple of groups you took out because you enjoyed the thrill of it, the screams, the feeling of power that filled your system. Even thinking about it now made you giddy, your pupils dilating as though a drug was coursing its way through your system. “You have to believe me, mama, please.”

Her hand falls from your face, “We should head back. You need a shower, and I’d like to braid your hair.” Her voice was cold, the older woman turning her back on you, not even taking the flowers from your hand. She usually hummed with you, the same song she sang to you as a child, but tonight the only sound was the owls hooting in the forest. You wipe your eyes on your sleeve, holding the flowers close to you as you follow along behind her. You hum quietly to yourself, looking up into the trees to see the glowing eyes of birds watching you. There was something comforting about them being so attentive, like they were looking out for the inhabitants that called the woods their home, even as they swoop on the mice that scamper across the leafy floor. It was the balance of things, and even as they eat the mice, they too would return to the earth and continue the cycle anew.

When you get home, your mother sits on a chair and has you sit on the floor between her legs as she starts to braid your hair, her fingers working deftly. She carefully takes the dried flowers and works them into your hair, willing the protection to keep you safe when the leaders come knocking. Only now does she hum, the strands of gold that hold the flowers in place starting to glow. She new deep down this day would come, that moving towns, cities, states would only get you so far because the tales that were told about a witch of destruction would catch up to you, that one coven was going to be smart enough to figure things out and realize it is one of their own. “You’ve always had such beautiful hair,” she murmurs, adding another flower to the braid and tying it into place, “Ever since you left my body, you had a mop of hair on your head. Whenever you woke in the morning, your hair was all over the place, and it would take so much water to tame it.”

“I’ve seen the photos,” you reply with a giggle, your eyes closed as you relax, enjoying the calming sensation of your mom braiding your hair. There had been times she had yelled at you for not brushing your hair, threatening to cut it all off if you didn’t want to take care of it. She had always apologized afterwards though, blaming her anger on something that had been said in a coven meeting as she carefully brushed the knots and tangles from your hair. “How long do we have?”

Your mother doesn’t look up from your hair, the wards she had set around the house were starting to crumble, only meant to slow them down, “Not long, my dear,” she picks the hairtie up and ties the braid off, securing a crystal in with it. “There,” she says, running her hand lightly over her work before you turn to look at her, your eyes holding the light of a thousand flames, “My beautiful girl. If you survive, you know you must never return.” Her hand caresses your cheek, her eyes held the river of life which you always loved looking into because you could feel the cool refreshing water wash over you, keeping you calm.

“I can’t leave you behind, mama. I can’t- I promised you that I would look after you,” you rest your hand over hers, they were the perfect balance. It always made you laugh how whenever her hands were cold, yours were burning hot, and on the rare occasion hers were warm, yours were colder than the glacier high in the mountains. You didn’t want to leave her behind, she would be an outcast unless she participated in your execution which she was unlikely to do because despite everything you have put her through, she still loves you and you knew there was nothing stronger than a mother’s love. “I can’t go without you.”

“You have to, sweetheart. You must find your own path, in a coven that will understand you,” she pulls back from you when the front door flies open, standing up she calls out to them. “She’s in here!” She looks at you, pain visible in her eyes, “She killed them! I saw it with my own eyes. No daughter of mine shall harm our coven.”

You felt your spirit break, unable to realize she was doing this for a reason, to keep herself safe, to keep you safe from seeing her harmed. “Mama-“ You start, struggling against the witches as they bind you with their magic, “Mama, please,” you beg, “Please don’t let them do this to me. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to do it, mama.” The women haul you to your feet, the magic tightening around your wrists behind your back, cutting off the circulation to your hands.

“I saw the look in your eyes, Yn. You enjoyed it.” She follows the other women out of the house, the path to the stake lined with other members of the coven holding burning torches. “I’ll bind her to the stake,” your mother tells the women, “To make up for what I have done. I have let this coven down too many times before, I won’t let it happen again.” Her magic felt different this time as it wraps itself around you, your hands pulled taut behind the stake, the cold no longer soothing, instead it felt icy, the frost burning your skin. She couldn’t look you in the eyes, she didn’t want you to see how much this was hurting her, and she didn’t want to see how betrayed you looked as she prepared to watch her daughter burn.

“I never thought I’d see the day, Theodora,” the elder-witch comments, “Preparing to burn your own flesh and blood after so long of defending her. Had this evening turned out differently, you would be on that stake along with her, there is no doubt about that.” She gestures for the others to surround you, a group of six women all part of the higher counsel, and every single one of them deeming you guilty. There was no room in their coven for someone like you, someone so dangerous, someone without remorse. Were they unbiased in their judgement? Four of them were not, all having lost a son to you. The other two had daughters, but even they feared that one day your hatred would spread to women. Although whenever their daughters had caught a glimpse of you, their cheeks turned as red as a rose, and a carefree giggle escaped them which they thought was arguably worse. “Get into position, Theodora. It’s time.”

“Mama please,” you beg, “Please. I didn’t mean to. I can’t control it. Please.” You look at her, desperate for her to believe you one last time, “Please, mama. Tell them. Tell them that I didn’t know what I was doing. That I didn’t mean to. That they hurt me too.”

Your mother wanted to stroke your cheek one last time, to wipe your tears away but she couldn’t do that, not anymore. She breathes you in, inhaling the floral scent of the shampoo you used before stepping down from the platform and joining the other women encircling you. “I should have let you burn the first time,” is all she says.

The elder-witch gives a nod, everyone raising their hands in preparation, “Begin!” She commands, their powers shooting out of their hands and hitting you full force, a pained scream tearing itself from your throat. It felt like your insides were being roasted, your skin prickling from the heat. It was agony, you had never felt anything like this before and you wanted it to stop.

“Please!” You scream, your head falling back against the stake, “Stop! I can’t-“ You could feel that familiar sensation starting to build in your stomach, and it wouldn’t be long until it broke free. “Mama- Mama run!” Your face was wet with tears, your head tipping forward, your eyes making contact with your mom’s. She couldn’t run, you both knew this, but you hoped this last time she would break the rules for you. The binding around your wrist starts falter, the women behind you noticing it.

“Elder- Her bindings! She’s going to break free!” One of them exclaims yet she does not stop her attack on you, none of them do because they hoped that if they continued, you would finally burn.

The elder-witch encourages them to push through it, “She is glowing! We are close! Keep going!” Your mother knew what was about to happen, finally she meets your eyes, mouthing an apology to you before the blast happens, all the women letting out agonizing screams as the fall to the ground ablaze. You slump somewhat against the wooden stake, your hair blowing in the draft created from the fires, your skin flush a deep red and your hands glowing brighter than the sun. You didn’t want to hurt them. You didn’t mean to, you begged for them not to do this. You warned them you couldn’t control it. You were going to wallow in that feeling until you remembered your mother. You look around frantically, counting the bodies: seven. Your mother-

“Mama-“ You jump down from the pedestal and rush over to where she had last been, sinking to your knees as you desperately try and put out the flames. She was unrecognizable, her skin blackened and burned. “Mama, I’m sorry,” you sob, cradling her burnt body close to you. She was the only person to look out for you, the only one to have stood by your side, and you had repaid her by killing her. Your tears drip from your chin and onto her corpse, the tears evaporating before they even touch her skin. You look down at her, “I’m sorry.”

#Agatha Harkness #Agatha Harkness x reader #Kathryn Hahn #Kathryn Hahn x reader #Agatha All Along #Agatha Harkness imagine #Kathryn Hahn imagine

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belovedivies · 1 month ago

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Author🙏,

May you show some benevolence to us peasants and give us some crumbs about our albino, Alipede✨

terminal ft. alipede

a/n: i adore yandere alipede with every fiber of my being. cw: yandere content, spoiler for johan’s past, mention of bullying, possessive and obsessive behaviors, manipulation, violent tendencies, implied parentification on reader's part, trashy adults made trashy decisions, injury, codependency (oops). wc: 2.67k ao3 link! m.list

This far into the countryside, you stopped caring what day it was. Every sunrise had the same rooster crowing behind the mountains and every nightfall sounded the same container trucker honking on a distant highway just as you were about to doze off. The same off-brand chips in every local dinner, the same celebrity whose life people tended to gossip about.

You wanted to say again, with conviction, that you weren’t miserable. There was no better fate to be bestowed upon. Maybe in another universe where your dad hadn’t left and your mom cared a bit more, you might have had the chance to act your age. Picked up a new hobby or two. Learned a sport. Went to summer camps. Fell in love.

Then again, maybe the caregiver role you took on during this three-month break was inevitable. The boarding school your mom worked at was so low on staff that you had to practically live there to play the part of a nanny. Keeping tabs on the kids. Making sure they take their study seriously. Breaking off fights in the hallway. On days when the tension was heavy and the lump in your throat had been too uncomfortable to ignore, you only knew how to smile and suck it up. Sending them away with a pat on the back.

The reminder persisted: they would always have you to count on, and you only had yourself.

Away from the crowds but never in the corner, Alipede was a strange one. Obedient to his own torment yet glimmering under the unfeeling façade was a rare defiance. He never fought back, never complained. You wondered if he had simply given up. If he had just taken everything with a grant of salt like you did once upon a time. Still, you admired Alipede. And nothing ever stopped you to try and do your best by the poor boy: slipped in extra bread, chastised his bullies, cleaned the dirt on his desk.

You stared at him like a hawk from the other side of the room. Many times a day, he might have stared back.

—

One noon, Alipede tripped over a tree root outside and scraped his knees. It was midday when the sun was at its highest, and specifically a day so boiling hot that the heat had felt like it was raking red sharp nails down your sweat-soaked back; your toes sticking together in a pair of too-large sandals.

The grass and dirt sizzled their complaints underneath your palms, but they didn’t for Alipede. Against the limewood, he rested his back with a peculiar look of detachment.

He hadn’t cried.

But you fussed over his wounds anyway with wet wipes and a few clumsy attempts at band-aids. Halfway through the heinous process with the tissue already stained with dirt and blood, you realized you might be risking an infection.

“S-Should I get a teacher? A nurse?” You choked out hopelessly before realizing the only semi-responsible teenager around here were you. “W-We should get you inside first!”

Your shoulders continued to shake the more you forced the words out. The boy’s eyes were dead set on your panicked face, but ultimately no answer came.

You gulped and put on your best caring tone. “D-Does it still hurt?”

Alipede blinked. No answer. A thousand years passed. Silence. Your lips wobbled with anxiety in your guts and an apology behind your lips. He had it so much harder than you.

Still, when the albino extended an arm out to reach something behind you… no, on you. Under you? You flinched. A marshmallow-soft sensation settled on your lap and your gaze instinctively followed where his hand went. A rabbit, fur as pale as snow and eyes as red as ruby, had unknowingly hopped out of its coop and was now curling up on your legs.

His rabbit.

It might as well have made you drown in guilt before, but that feeling was so far away now it barely registered in your mind. Alipede reached out to pet the creature. It nuzzled into his hand and emitted a purring sound, the vibration tingling your skin. You watched the interaction with relief.

A good distance away from the common building, everything measured up to a perfect amount of tranquility. There were no cheery nursery rhymes on repeat, no cagey and overly dramatic action movies playing from one classroom to another. You smiled and scratched the rabbit’s head with your forefinger, earning a soft snore from the little guy.

“You left the cage open.”

It took three blinks to realize that Alipede was talking to you.

He hadn’t tilted his head up yet, still caressing his beloved pet. Beneath the shades of linden, Alipede seemed so soft and kind—looking every bit the pretty boy he was told to be. Maybe it hadn’t been a compliment at all, and you knew how much the albino detested being labeled as just another darling face. But even then, without spring in his steps and a guide cane in his hand, Alipede had always had this air of helplessness floating in and around him, teetering between the fading line of despair and a sense of willpower just vague enough to keep him going.

Your heart was already in your throat when he continued to say something.

Was it your name?

The beginning and the ending seemed to match, but there was no guarantee what had slipped out in between. The sun hid behind a heap of cotton candy clouds, yet your palm remained clammy, uncomfortably hot. Maybe it was the guilt. Maybe it was the knowledge that you had too wronged the poor boy. That you had fed and played and cared for what was his when he wasn’t around.

A tap on your shoulder. This time, you gathered the courage to finally meet his eyes as the albino leaned in and muttered again.

So it really was your name.

And your forehead was touching his. So was your nose. Alipede was so close you two were basically breathing the same air, the apples of your cheeks up against one another. And you hadn’t minded the unusually intimate distance, too busy taking in the red in his irises and the flutter of his pale lashes. Only when the rabbit squirmed on your lap again, trying to make some room did you realize that you still owed him an apology. You pulled back and ducked your head sheepishly.

“I’m sorry…”

For touching the rabbit without his permission. For the wounds on his knees. For complaining too much when he hadn’t.

Your gaze was trained on your lap, waiting. Thomas once whined to you about the scratches on his hand, calling the albino a freak because he had overreacted. You wondered if Alipede would bite you too. His pet did the first time you approached it, leaving a red welt on your arm and a scar on your pinkie. The thought of an angry boy sinking his teeth deep into your skin sounded so silly that it almost made you laugh. Maybe you wouldn’t even blame him then.

He hadn’t said anything either, but when the albino unexpectedly took your hands in his and laced your fingers together, you hadn’t flinched. Alipede was smiling at you.

“It’s fine,” then came a gentle squeeze. There in those cemeteries of red, you spotted a glint of delight, “I’m not mad.”

“Oh.” You opened your mouth, then closed it. “Thanks...”

Alipede raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just…” You mumbled. “I thought you would be mad at me for…”

A lock of white hair fell over his shoulder as Alipede tilted his head. He looked so cute; you wanted to squish his cheeks together.

“If it’s you, I won’t.”

The comment might have made you feel better if it wasn’t for the dry delivery. Even then, you trusted the boy enough to mellow out with a squeeze back. Did you forget something? Your gaze darted back to his scraped knees and felt your heart jump; you still had to take him inside for a checkup.

“You’re still hurting! W-We should head back in—“ The second you had tried to move away, he gripped and pulled you back in with a strength you didn’t know was possible. Shouldn’t be possible. Eyes wide as full moons, you could only stare as Alipede cupped your cheeks.

“I’m fine.”

“But-“

“I’m not hurting.”

The albino lowered his voice, pleading.

“Can we stay here a little longer, please?”

You nod wordlessly.

It was only Alipede, after all.

You trusted him just as much as he did you. He didn’t need to talk and beg and cry his way into your free time; you gave it to him willingly anyway.

The albino’s thumbs ghosted over your cheekbones. You wondered if he had felt your silent agreement at all, if he could hear the heart beating inside your chest, the blood flowing in your veins, and the air pumping into your lungs. He might have heard a lot of things you couldn’t.

The rabbit squirmed once more, nuzzling its fluffy head against your thigh. Alipede’s hands finally left your face to continue petting his comfort animal, but his eyes didn’t.

“He likes you,” Alipede said with conviction, and a smile smudged around the corners of his lips like a gallery of oil paintings forgotten in the rain.

“Oh.” You gaped at him; it always got so unbearably awkward the first time. “Um… what’s his name by the way?”

The boy must have had one ready before you even asked, sonnets of adoration bubbling in his throat and vibrant stars dancing behind his eyelids. And you had waited too—all bated breath, all whispering humbleness. Uncertainty swirled your guts like a desert oasis.

But when Alipede opened his mouth to speak, it was your name that had slipped out.

And again. And again. And again.

He said yours the same way people would when they cheered for sport: loud, excited, hopeful. You blinked. You heard him the first time, you just didn’t know what he meant by any of it. A “Huh?”, small and confused, left your lips. Then the cords clicked and the dots connected themselves.

“Oh, oh.” You dropped your face into your hands with a choked groan; the heat on your cheeks rivaling the scorching sun. Through the crack of your fingertips, Alipede’s smile remained constant.

He had named his rabbit after you.

—

The hallway got dustier and narrower the further you went down.

Once lunchtime rolled around, it was a maze of spilled drinks and childish destruction—foods and toys and everything imaginable going back and forth in the air until all of them hit the floor in a mass of ruination. One noon, you sighed and tugged on Alipede’s arm, leading him into the teacher’s lounge.

The place was empty. Well, no teacher here had ever bothered to stick with the kids until their second meal of the day, anyway. Once an incoherent excuse was out, they slipped into their cars and drove off into the distance. You never saw them again.

Your mom was around for breakfast sometimes, downing her portion wearily. She reeked of cheap booze. Of nightclubs and bad decisions. Once in third grade, you flushed her Seropin down the toilet by accident, thinking they were expired candy. Even then, your mom had come home wordlessly the next day with bloodshot eyes and bruised lips, and you hadn’t gone near her medical cabinet since.

Alipede leaned against the wall, a hand clasped over his nose obediently as you cleared out cigar stubs and crushed beer cans on the floor. Turning on the AC and opening a few windows seemed to help with the stuffy air inside. You guided the albino to sit at the table in the middle of the room, on chairs that creaked and felt too adult-like with foam for cushions. There was no one else around, but Alipede clung to your waist with a pout and pulled your seats closer than they already were. You giggled; you loved his clinginess, just as much as he loved you.

“We have—” Still joyful, you paused for effect and peered down the two trays on the table. “—Japanese food today! Curry over rice and miso soup. Have you heard of them before, Ali?”

Alipede, nose buried in your hair and mind probably somewhere up in the cloud, only blinked. His grip tightened around your waist when he asked, “No. What are they like?”

“Hmm…” You pursed your lips, “the curry has a thick and smooth texture that feels like velvet against your tongue. It also contains a blend of spices like cumin and coriander. Remember that, Ali? You said you couldn’t stand the pungent smell!” Your shoulders shook slightly as you laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s sweet and pretty mildly spiced. We have carrots and potatoes too! You said you loved them—“

On and on, you went about the dishes with gusto. He kept his eyes on you the whole time.

You used to wonder what Alipede’s world was like. A pitch black. A collision of sound waves and echoes. An overdose of nothingness. Long ago, you read a story about a father who sacrificed his son for the prosperity of their land. The boy grew up beautifully still, slaying demons and taking back the body parts that had been rightfully his since birth. A touching tale about defying fate and pushing forward in the face of adversity.

Still, Hyakkimaru was a fictional character, and Alipede was not.

You couldn’t begin to fathom the battle he had to go through every day, struggling to just be seen as a normal person, one with a life just as valuable as others.

But he hadn’t complained.

He hadn’t cried to you about the bullying either. Months ago before you came, the albino huddled inside a coop behind the school, holding onto his pet bolt-tight. He didn’t need to cry; his fading bruises and healing wounds already did the job for him.

Alipede’s lips curled up against the shell of your ear, dragging you further into the wool of a couch nearby. “You’re right, it’s just mildly spiced,” he whispered, low and content like a purring cat, between the messy tangles of your limbs, “could use a bit more sweetness, though.”

—

“I wanna get out of here,” you sighed almost dreamily by a pond in the garden, legs tucked under your knees in your favorite sundress, “maybe visit Japan one day. Or Korean. Anywhere is nice.”

You raised a hand to point at something. Maybe a bird passing by. Maybe a red hot orb flowing on the horizon, half-submerged by the Earth. What it was, it was promptly abandoned the moment Alipede grabbed onto your wrist and twined your fingers together.

“You’re not thinking of leaving me, are you?” Alipede’s pupils dilated in the setting sun, the white of his hair and your dress bleeding into one oversaturated canvas. “You told me you wouldn’t.”

“Of course not!” The answer came just as quickly, hurt and amusement wrapped up in the form of a pout written across your face. Even then, he hadn’t returned an apology. You had felt silly for even bothering to wait for one, but that was okay.

It was only Alipede, after all.

Instead, you squeezed his hand back, lacing your pinkie together in the naive gesture of a promise.

“I’ll be your eyes, Ali. For as long as I live.”

You swore through mirthful smiles and hushed voices. Here, tucked away from the common building and terrible adults, the world narrowed down to just you and him. And Alipede—your sweet, adorable, and lovely Alipede—whose head was on your lap and whose heart was forever yours, only stared back unblinkingly.

Then he giggled, pulling you forward. Against all senses, you held on, and the two of you toppled into the grass. Nighttime prickled at your skin like a bug as you laughed along with him, and the summer dragged on, neverending.