#and it made me realise it's showing it's age

[subformuscularalpha]

Recently our department received a new boss. He was a handsome 6'4" tall muscular man in his late twenties (just a few years older than I was). Despite his young age he was natural in his new position. At first our older colleagues weren't happy about being bossed around by someone so young but he quickly established his leadership and gained their respect.

One day my new boss Adam invited me into his office to talk about my work. During the conversation I couldn't stop glancing at his massive arms that stretched the tight fabric of his shirt, whenever he moved them. Light spots of sweat under his armpits made me even more hornier and I realised my small dicklet was already half hard. I moved my legs, praying that he wouldn't notice it.

At some point he made a longer pause, "Are you all right? You seem a bit disconnected". He caught my gaze pointing at his bicep and a little smirk appeared on his face.

"No, I'm ok. Sorry", my answer didn't sound confident.

Adam leant back in his chair and raised his arms, putting his hands behind his head, "I see what you're distracted by", the smirk didn't go from his face. He stood up and walked around the desk. "I've noticed you've been checking me from the first day we met. I immediately knew you were a little faggot, hungry for attention".

His words caught me completely off guard and I was too stoned to respond. He leant back against the table, grabbed my hand and laid it on his thigh. His big hand led my small one over his thigh up to the crotch, without breaking the eye contact. But as my hand was about to reach the desired spot, he stopped, "Not so fast", his voice sounded more commanding than ever. "Stand up".

Without having a second thought I obeyed immediately.

Adam let my hand go and instead put his finger under my chin, "Take off my shirt".

I nodded my head but immediately received a light patting on my cheek. It didn't hard physically but the feeling of humiliation was much stronger.

"You're supposed to answer when I give you commands"

"I'm sorry," my voice was trembling.

Another slap on my cheek, this time harder. "SIR", he corrected me.

"I'm sorry, Sir"

"That's better. Now go on"

"Yes, Sir", I moved my hands to his top button and started undoing them.

As I opened his shirt completely and peeled back the fabric, Adam’s muscular, shredded body was revealed — each muscle defined and bulging with power. I hesitated for a short moment but his gaze said “Go on”. My hands touched his chest, feeling the warmth and the firmness beneath my palms. His skin was hot, the muscles hard yet yielding slightly under my touch.

“You like it?”

“Yes… Sir. You’re… incredibly”, I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Show me how you appreciate it”

I leaned in, pressing my lips against the soft skin of his chest and licking around his aroused nipples. The natural scent of his body was intoxicating.

“Lower”, he said, and I complied. My lips trailed down his abs, feeling each ridge and valley, covered with short hairs. Adam’s hand found the back of my head, guiding me but not forcing, letting me worship at my own pace, until I reached the metal buckle of his belt.

I looked up at him with a submissive gaze asking for permission to continue but he smirked and shook his head slightly, “Not so fast, boy”. With a fluid motion, he shrugged off his shirt completely, letting it fall on the table behind him. His arms, now fully exposed, were a sight to behold. He raised one arm, flexing his bicep and revealing his hairy armpit, and commanded, “Smell it. Show me how much you want this”.

I straightened up and moved closer, my senses overwhelmed by the raw masculinity emanating from him. His armpit was a mix of sweat and cologne. Inhaling deeply, my nostrils got filled with his strong musk. I started kissing gently, feeling his wet hair against my face.

“Good boy. Now worship them,” he raised both of his arms and flexed his bulging biceps.

I moved to his biceps, my lips and hands exploring the hard, warm muscle. I kissed and licked each one, feeling the strength beneath my touch. As I worshipped his arms, his hands began to explore my body. His large hands roamed over my back, down to my waist, feeling the contrast between his muscular build and my more petite frame.

"You're so small compared to me," he murmured, almost to himself, as his fingers dug slightly into my flesh, pulling me closer. His other hand came up to my chin, tilting my face up to meet his eyes. "You like this, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir," I replied, my voice thick with desire and submission. His hands continued their exploration, occasionally gripping tighter, asserting his dominance, while I continued to lavish attention on his biceps, feeling the power in every muscle.

Adam’s hand slowly found the back of my head and he pulled me away from him, “Enough. It’s time to go further down”, he stood up, still holding my head in place and guided me to the small couch in the corner of the room. He sat down and gestured me to the floor in front of him, while undoing his pants. He pulled them down, revealing tight trunks, the fabric barely able to contain the bulge that was now evident. In another quick motion the trunks were pulled down to his ankles too. His manhood was now fully revealed. It was as imposing as the rest of him, thick and standing proudly, a monument of his dominance.

With a firm but gentle pressure, Adam guided my head closer. I opened my lips and he slowly penetrated my mouth, stretching it out, until I almost gagged. “It’s not all,” he pulled back, waited for a few second and pushed his member deeper into my throat. “Good boy,” he praised me as my nose touched his abs.

I moved my head back and forth, his hand still on the back of my head, controlling the pace, my tongue swirling around his shaft, tasting his saltiness and feeling all the contours of it.

My own arousal was undeniable, the act of submitting to him, of being used for his pleasure, was a mix of humiliation and ecstasy. I looked up at him, meeting his eyes, seeing the lust and power there, and it only fueled my desire to please him more, to be his in this moment.

Adam's breathing became more erratic, his grip tightening in my hair. "Don't stop," he managed to say, his voice strained with impending release. I continued, driven by his commands and my own need to serve, to feel his power over me, until I felt him tense. A low, primal groan escaped his lips as he released into my mouth. The war, salty juice filling my mouth, flowing down my throat, warming me from the inside with a sense of his complete dominance over me.

“Swallow,” he commanded. I did as told.

When he finished, Adam looked down at me, his chest heaving, his eyes still burning with desire. He slowly pulled his softening cock out of my mouth and commanded me to clean it up. I had no other choice than to comply, carefully licking up every last drop of his cum, feeling a mix of disgust and arousal at the same time. Once I was done, Adam pushed me away with his foot. His gaze quickly fall down to my pants where a noticeable wet spot had formed. “Looks like someone enjoyed this as much as I did,” he chuckled.

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry,” I managed to say, feeling a flush of embarrassment.

“You shouldn’t be sorry for that, boy. It’s your natural reaction to the alpha man and a little faggot like you can’t control it,” he stood up and patted my cheek. “But I’m gonna teach you to serve me better. But that’s later. Now go and clean yourself up and get back to work”.

[sumplys]

white ferrari — c. sainz

brunette curls and dangerous games in the reflection of her innocent eyes

cw: age gap, bad spanish

We got so familiar, spending each day of the year.

Carlos let out a short exhale as he shot the cue into the fifteen coloured balls, sprawling them out across the green velvet.

The bar buzzed with drunken confessions as you and Carlos started your third pool game of the afternoon.

The score was two-one, two to you. No skill, all luck. That’s what you would have said if you were modest about your pool game, which you are, in fact, not.

“Let’s see it,” he encouraged, stepping back and running his hand through his uncut summer curls, nodding his head at you.

“You asked for it, príncipe.” You pressed your chest to the table, lining the cue stick up with the pale ball.

Playing with you was proving to be quite distracting. He didn’t want to be disrespectful, but it’s not like he didn’t not notice your tits pouring over your shirt as you leaned down. He made himself blink, trying not to pay attention to the way your back looked as you leaned over the table. The cue ball made contact and he diverted his eyes quickly as you potted it.

“First try!” You smiled up at him, placing the cue under your chin.

Carlos stared down at you, looking at you more intensely than what felt normal. You broke eye contact first, straightening your spine and mumbling something about “his turn.”

You and Carlos were friends. Good friends. Friends who made out while drunk. Friends who lived together despite the fact Carlos alone could afford a small country, let alone a villa. There was no reason to split rent. Maybe split was the wrong word. More like Carlos paid for the house, despite only living in Monaco for a small portion of the summer. It’s not like you didn’t attempt to pay your portion, but it didn’t help much, since he had a habit of doubling the amount and wiring it right back to you.

Carlos was back for summer break, nonetheless, ushered back to Monaco by your father, a colleague of Carlos’.

The way you and Carlos met was less than innocent, falling together after a press conference and hooking up before realising you actually get on with each other quite well, and soon became friends. You really hadn’t spoken about the incident that led to your friendship since. In fact, you weren’t even completely sure Carlos remembered it at all.

You sure as hell didn’t forget.

Carlos eyed up a shot, bending down to get a better look at the angle. As he did, you eyed him up, his body shamefully addictive. His grey shirt tightened around his triceps, and again around his shoulders, gold chain dangling from around his neck. Your body yearned for his, a feeling you had gotten used to since your first taste of him, wishing to have your fingertips against every part of his tan skin. You felt yourself taking a step forward, only for your hips to press against the table separating your body from his, something that you were probably better off because of.

He pulled his cue stick back, hesitating before attempting to pot the ball, missing by about an inch.

“Ah, fuck me.”

Your lips pursed in a smile, “Oh c’mon,” you encouraged, tapping the cue in your hand against his collarbone, marking it with the blue chalk, “Don’t be a baby.”

You could have sworn you saw his eyes narrow as he looked from you to his chest, then retired his stick, “Let’s go.”

“What?” your smile faded, “Carlos, what’s wrong?”

“Vamonos, I want to show you something,” he explained, looking up at you through his lashes as he pulled your jumper from off the coat rack and wrapped around his neck.

He pulled you to him, putting a hand on the small of your back as he led you through the crowd of people ranging from tipsy to blackout.

Your mind went numb as you looked up at him, trying to pretend like you didn’t want his hand in more places than one.

The bar was dim, but the golden sunlight poured through the doorframe as Carlos swung the door open. It was bright despite the late hour, summer days stretching longer as July rolled into August.

“Espera aquí.” Carlos turned the corner around the building, pulling your pale bike towards you, towing his own behind him.

You beamed at him, running to meet him half way, “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he smirked before positioning himself on the plush seat and riding towards the beach.

The air in Monaco was crisp, the warm weather of the country meeting the cool temperatures of the sea. It was the kind of dreamy summer everyone fantasised about, and maybe the most expensive too.

Carlos propped his bike up against a pole in the sand, strewing his shirt over a bundle of rocks, diving headfirst into the sea.

You laughed out loud, pulling your pale shirt over your shoulders, hair falling over your face as you ran, following close behind the spaniard.

You broke through the water with no difficulty, toes hitting the bottom as you resurfaced.

You raked your hand through your wet hair, pulling yourself towards Carlos. His gaze was hard and his face was flushed pink as he looked down at you, “What? What is it?”

He sighed, his head tilting at the sight of you.

“What’s wrong?” You whispered, pressing your cool hand to his hot cheek.

“Mũneca…”

“What?” you asked, looking over his expression for anger or frustration, “What did I do?”

You pushed his damp curls away from his eyes, still trying to look at him better, “Nothing, nothing. And there’s our problem.”

You blinked, hand frozen on his cheek, “You want me to do something? What? What do you want me to do?”

He took another second, making you more likely to drown in his eyes rather than the ocean at your waist, “God, you’re so… hermosa. You’re too good for me, nena.”

You closed your eyes, shaking your head, annoyed now, “No, and it’s annoying for you to even say that. How can you talk to me like this and expect me to be okay?”

“That’s not fair,” he countered, “You’re so much younger than me, and I’m so pissed off that I let it get so far. It’s sick.”

“It’s not sick, and you’re not that much older than me.

“Eight years is a lot, hermosa. More than what I know your papa would like.”

“I am not a kid,” you reminded him, “It’s not illegal, it’s not wrong. People with worse age gaps have gotten married, even had kids.”

“You talk about marriage and starting a family with someone like me as if it’s a bad thing.”

He looked down at you and you sputtered, “It’s bad when it’s not right.”

Carlos stared at your reflection in the water, droplets rolling off your hair and splashing onto the surface of the sea, ripples distorting your solemn figure.

“Are we right to you?”

You blinked, waves forming around you by your shaking legs, “How is it fair of you to ask me that? With no intention of hearing me out.”

“So, no?”

“No, yes. I want that with you but you’ve made it very clear that you want to be friends, and I’m fine with that.”

Carlos went quiet again, he knew this wasn’t a conversation he should be having with you without planning his every word first, “We should have talked about this. I knew just ignoring what happened when we met wasn’t going to do either of us any good.”

You pressed your lips together, shaking your head.

“Can we just not…”

Carlos turned, creating waves on the surface, “If you really don’t want to talk about this, está bien, but if you are trying to avoid talking about it, we should.”

You fiddled with the strings on your top, tying them into tight bows, “What more is there to say?”

“You like me, baby?” He asked, taking your two hands in his palm, pulling them from the straps on your top.

“This is so ridiculous.”

His hand fell to your hips, your cotton shorts clinging to your thighs as they absorb the sea water, “Tell me.”

“Carlos,” you muttered, eyes closing, avoiding his.

He lifted his hand to your chin, “Tell me, love.”

“Of course… I like you…” you mumbled, and as the confession fell from your lips, it felt as though they gained force and hit him with a heavier weight than the thought of the words could even try to manage.

His fingers moved up from the left side of your neck to through your wet curls.

Carlos held the back of your head firmly, tugging on your hair to press your lips against his.

[fidgetspringer]

Same tag three years later, after countless hours of use!

New tag for the pup all finished!

[biillys]

hi au where billy and max are child stars

neil auditioning billy for a (soon-to-be) beloved family sitcom as a baby, very mary-kate and ashley vibes, maybe billy getting the role for being the only baby not to cry during the auditions, and then putting him to work from basically day dot.

his mom doing her best to run interference and make sure he gets treated right, only letting him be on set for a few hours a week and making sure either herself or neil is always with him, but the older he grows and the more screen time he gets, the more the show runners and neil try and weasel their way for more time with him.

him turning five and the show airing it's fourth season, his parents marriage being over. his mom handing neil the divorce papers and walking out, then dipping her hand into his earnings (that neil has tied up in his own name) to try and buy them a future, trying to get full custody.

the divorce being messy and drawn out and public, neil having made her out to be the villain, the fans and magazines tearing her to shreds and writing headlines trying to shame her, saying she's a heartless bitch for trying to end her own child's career just as it's starting to take off.

billy getting caught in the middle, the separation and custody battle drawing out for years, him struggling to handle the fall out of his home life coming apart at the same time as the sitcom he grew up on comes to an end.

his life being a fucking mess by the time he turns eight.

having a little bit of free time then, technically being jobless. starting to explore other hobbies and interests now that he has some time and getting more into music and sports, begging for a guitar and a surfboard for his birthday, asking neil if he can join little league.

neil promising him one better, and instead, getting him auditions for disney, telling him the only thing better than playing the guitar, is playing the guitar for disney.

turning ten and being a series regular on an already airing disney show, but the execs and directors being so impressed by him that there's talks of him getting his own show.

part of him being excited, proud, but a bigger part of him being terrified.

being so scared to tell his mom cos he knows she'll cry. she used to run her fingers through his hair to lull him to sleep, hug him close and whisper about how she never wanted this life for him, how she's so sorry.

it becoming official and him getting his own show on disney.

him getting the news exactly one week after his mom walks out for good, his dad having finally won full custody, no visitation allowed.

him feeling sick to his stomach. he never thought she'd actually leave.

he never even got to tell her his news.

it not taking long for the shine of having his own show to wear off, the few things he was excited about starting to become a hassle.

starting to resent it.

hating it.

hating the lights and the cameras and the scripts and the running lines. the early mornings and the make up and the flights and the night shoots and the interviews and the press. hating the way he's always surrounded by adults, never having had an actual friend his own age in his entire life. that all the other kids he knows are pitted to him like rivals, there being always talk about ratings and viewers and timeslots. him not knowing what a friend without it being tied up in publicity and pr.

hating the fact that he has a sister on the show, but his dad and her mom end up getting close, and suddenly he's getting a step-sister in real life.

hating the way max only has to film for x amount of hours a day because she's a kid, but he has to film for longer, and thats on top of everything else he's gotta do, very miley cyrus sharing her schedule during her hannah montana years vibes.

him becoming a household name in his younger years from the sitcom, but disney cementing his fame, him being known by what feels like the entire world by the time he's in his teens.

growing up and getting into shit, experimenting with drugs and alcohol and sex, trying to find any and every escape he can. him and max always being on the outs in private, but being the picture perfect family in public.

neil being a controlling fucker, a true momager, has kris jenner on speed dial.

rebelling in every way he can, not giving a fuck what stories or pictures of him get leaked anymore, the press and public turning against him as he gets older.

his show ending and him expecting to finally feel free, except just becos the shows over, doesn't mean anything else is. suddenly the pressure starts feeling heavier, everyone asking him what he's got lined up next, if he's gonna straighten himself out, if he's gonna finally take his career seriously.

neil riding him, telling him to forget about whatever he wants to do, and do what he tells him to do instead. him having various commitments and auditions lined up for billy already, and billy being ready to end it all.

emancipating himself at age seventeen, cutting off contact with everyone.

going off the rails and living his worst life. catching the headlines and updates of maxine mayfield: now managed by neil hargrove, and shoving down the urge to call her and tell her to run, knows she won't listen to a thing he says any way. he was nothing but an asshole and a spoilt brat no good fuck up in her eyes anyway, neil making sure they never got close.

doing his best to go down the music route, feeling physically ill at the thought of acting again, but thinking maybe music could be the answer. he always liked it better. felt more comfortable with a guitar in his hands or a piano under his fingers than cameras and lights in his face.

the music industry being just as harsh and ruthless as the entertainment industry, him not getting taken seriously by anyone he needs to be taken seriously by, everyones expectations of him being so fucking high that he knows he'll never be able to meet them.

deciding he doesn't give a fuck about anything anymore, his life's never been his own to control or have any say over anyway. signing a five year contract with a well-known label, not writing a single song of his own or playing a single instrument aside from when they want him to trot out an acoustic set, and instead singing words richer people than him wrote and performing show after show after show, flying from country to country to country, barely fucking existing. the songs becoming chart toppers, like they were written to be, and selling out stadiums.

hitting rock bottom.

getting a wake up call from max of all people, her ringing to check he's still alive. him pulling the phone away to check this is an actual call and not a hallucination. putting the phone back up to his ear, asking why she's calling.

her saying happy birthday and billy realising he's turning twenty today.

them sitting in silence for a while before max finally cracks.

her telling him his dad's an asshole. billy laughing. no shit.

them hanging up, but max calling again, a month later, then again, a few weeks after that.

billy being hungover as fuck and having no idea what country he's in, but max is in a new movie, out in cinemas now, and it's a serious drama, it's fucking emmy nominated, so he calls the front desk of whatever hotel he's staying at and asks for directions to the closest cinema and before he knows it, he's going incognito, hoodie on, and watching her on the big screen, and she's so much better at acting than he ever was.

neil must be so goddamn pleased with himself.

too bad max sounds completely miserable everytime they talk on the phone.

he calls her instead of her calling him for the first time, opening the conversation with saw your movie, how much fucking overtime did you get for all those night-shoots?

before or after your dad took his cut?

billy laughs. he can't remember the last time he laughed.

ANYWAY. i was listening to robot by miley cyrus on repeat and!!!! child stars au!!!! them both being worked to the bone!!! hating each other becos they barely know each other cos they barely know themselves!!!! getting through their childhoods battered and bruised, billy coming out the other side first, max finally catching up to him a few years later. them both, one by one, cutting their parents out!!!! max taking the big screen by storm when she grows up, neil frothing at the mouth that he can't touch her money when she cuts him out!!!! billy never signing another contract again after his record deal ends, disappearing off the face off the earth!!!! slight the lucky one by tswift vibes!!!! idk!!!!!

[owl-with-a-pen]

“Are you sure about this? Because, if not, I can still cancel the reservation.”

Nia rolled her eyes. This must’ve been the third time Alex had asked her that same question since picking up the call. She shook her head, adjusting her phone against her ear. “No, no way Alex, you’ve been talking about this dinner with Kelly for weeks, you deserve this date. You need this date.” She drew in a breath, closing her eyes. “I can still take Esme for the night, it’s not a problem.”

“I just don’t want you to have to deal with any more stress. Not after—”

Nia winced. Well, there it was again, the big ol’ elephant in the room that Alex had deftly skirted around this whole conversation. Well, technically. She supposed the elephant wasn’t so much in the room with her than he was in the room over, committed to bedrest until further notice.

It wasn’t exactly ideal, but nothing ever ran according to plan when it came to the whole superhero life. Two weeks ago, Nia and Brainy would have been more than capable of taking on Esme for the night. Then, less than forty-eight hours ago, an alien with insane super strength had decided to ruin that by throwing Brainy through a cement wall and over a balcony.

To anyone else, it might have been dumb luck, except Brainy wasn’t anyone, and differential calculus usually kept him at least three steps ahead of an opponent. Nia hadn’t seen it coming either, and her dream instincts had only been getting stronger these last few months.

It was only after the alien had been formally logged onto the DEO database that they realised the species was capable of sending out otherwise undetectable frequencies that affected higher brain function.

Dumb luck indeed, although Nia wasn’t convinced. Neither was anyone else, which was why the DEO had been having a hell of a time drawing up possible tie-ins to recent criminal activity ever since. It was also why Alex was in desperate need of a night off.

And, as for Brainy? The only reason he’d stopped working was on account of the back trauma and three broken ribs.

Nia had to admit, the bruising was pretty gnarly. She’d seen it first while Alex had been bandaging him up, like a pale-yellow rash that stretched across his whole lower ribcage. Since then, the bruising had developed, darkening into the crevices of his broken ribs, spreading out and over his spine like a spilled paint jar. Alex had told him he was lucky he hadn’t punctured a lung, and though her tone had been light, Nia had seen the worry in her eyes.

Brainy had been signed off on medical leave that same day, and he wasn’t expected back until he’d made a full recovery.

The good news? Coluans healed fast, although even Brainy had to admit he couldn’t work through this sort of an injury. For starters, he was barely able to walk, and that was with the alien grade pain meds Alex had prescribed. He was in for a steady recovery at least, but Nia understood where Alex was coming from. Neither of them had expected this when they’d agreed to babysit and, like it or not, Brainy’s assistance tonight was way out of the question.

“It’s fine,” Nia assured her for what felt like the millionth time. “He’s fine. Besides—he’s resting, so actually, I could really use the company.”

“You’re sure?” Alex didn’t sound convinced.

“Totally. Nothing wakes him up in the restorative cycle, so unless Esme comes home with earthquake powers--”

“I mean, that is a real possibility,” Alex warned, although her voice had started to soften, “but I get your point.” She sighed. “Okay look, if you’re really sure, then fine. I’ll drop her off at five-thirty, which still gives you both plenty of time to change your minds if--”

Nia rolled her eyes. “I’ll see you at five-thirty,” she said flatly, hanging up before Alex could argue otherwise.

Nia leant heavily against the breakfast bar, snapping her phone against the cold surface, lowering her head.

She’d meant what she’d said about wanting the company. With Brainy out of commission, the apartment was uncharacteristically quiet. Keeping herself busy was never this difficult when Brainy was out of town or off-planet, but with him so close-by, Nia couldn’t help but gravitate towards the bedroom whenever she didn’t have something else to occupy her time. Aside from bathroom breaks and mealtimes, Brainy didn’t need anything from her - his restorative cycle took care of that - but that didn’t stop the persistent itch underneath Nia’s skin, driving her to do something, anything that could help.

At least having Esme there would give her just that.

In the meantime, Nia found herself back at the bedroom door, hovering just outside. It was dumb, and even though she knew she wouldn’t wake him, she still felt like an intruder when she shouldered open the door. She kept it open just a crack, enough to spy Brainy’s face in the dim light, exactly where he had been that same morning.

He was curled in protectively on his side, one pillow propping him up with another clutched tightly to his chest. His free arm cushioned his head as he slept, the muffled glow of his life projectors casting long shadows over his closed lids.

Brainy’s life projectors always shone a little brighter when he was locked in a restorative cycle - something about his consciousness retreating that bit deeper into his AI core – but whenever he was sick or hurt, Nia noticed that the glow was especially potent. Like right now; even beneath layers of bandages and bedsheets, they shone as fiercely as ever, burning away like tiny suns.

The restorative state couldn’t disguise everything though, and Nia knew that Brainy was still in a lot of pain. There was a sallowness to his green skin, and his blond hair was tufted to his brow, odd ends clinging to his face by a sheen of cold sweat. The meds were helping where they could, but they couldn’t take away all of his discomfort, which was why Nia was relieved he’d managed to slip into the restorative cycle at all. Usually, it only triggered on his back, but the bruising on his spine made that position pretty impossible right now. Thankfully, his body had compensated, making the necessary adjustments to give him the best opportunity to heal.

It didn’t make it easier to look at, and Nia could still hear the impact Brainy’s body had made with the ground every time she so much as closed her eyes.

She only wished she’d been dreaming of it before, not after. Guess she had their alien prisoner to thank for that.

He looked peaceful at least, and she knew the longer he stayed in the restorative state, the faster he would heal. This was a win - she had to remind herself of that. Besides, Brainy had been the one to assure her that Esme was still welcome to stay over. As crappy as things had turned out, he was of the same mind as her:  Alex and Kelly needed this.

It wasn’t like Nia had any hang-ups about babysitting solo, she’d done it plenty of times before. Esme was a good kid and as much of a handful as a young Dyralian could no doubt be, Nia knew she had nothing to worry about.

And yet, that nagging dream sense wouldn’t leave her alone. The one that called out to her at her lowest, that liked to whisper what if, what if, what if…

She ignored it. Bad vibes didn’t mean bad visions. She was just working herself up over nothing.

~~~

Brainy hadn’t stirred once by the time Alex arrived with her overactive payload. The second Nia opened the door, Esme beamed up at her, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Auntie Nia!”

Nia laughed, hoisting Esme up just enough to spin her once before letting her loose into the apartment. “Hey, gremlin, how’ve you been?”

Alex and Nia both watched on fondly as Esme shrugged her overnight bag onto the stool by the breakfast bar, scoping out the apartment as she went. She had a keen eye, instantly marking out the box of toys Nia had left out for her.

“Thanks again for this, Nia, you really are a life saver here,” Alex said earnestly once Esme was out of earshot. She leaned forward conspiratorially. “We’re trying to get her down by eight or nine at the latest.”

Nia offered a mock salute. “Got it.”

Alex’s face creased sympathetically. “I mean it though, Nia, if Brainy needs some peace and quiet or if she gets to be too much of a handful, you can call me, and I’ll be right—"

Nia raised her hand, effectively cutting her off. “Don’t worry about that.” She winked, shooing her off. “Now, go and enjoy your date! You look amazing by the way.”

Alex laughed, nodding sheepishly before finally heeding Nia’s instructions.  

Once Nia had closed the door, she turned back to Esme. “Okay, now your mom is finally gone, what d’you wanna do tonight?”

Normally, that would’ve elicited a squeal from Esme, and about a dozen and a half activities she had primed and ready on the tip of her tongue.

Tonight, though, her attention seemed to be elsewhere.

Esme padded quietly across the apartment, exaggerating her steps like she might come across a stray Lego. She stopped at the sofa’s arm, leaning her whole body into it, balancing with one foot in the air as she peered curiously towards the hallway.

She pointed suddenly. “Is that where Uncle Brainy is?”

Nia’s stomach clenched. Clearly, the kid didn’t miss a beat.

She smiled tightly, folding her arms. “Uh-huh,” she said, trying to keep her tone light. “I’m uh- guessing your mom told you about that?”

Esme nodded reservedly, her attention aimed solely at the hallway. “She said I need to be on my best behaviour.” She scowled, pushing herself up from the sofa so that she could place her little hands squarely on her hips. “I told her that I’m always on my best behaviour!”

Nia chuckled, ruffling Esme’s hair as she crossed by. “I know you are, kiddo, and that’s very sweet of you to think of Uncle Brainy.” She perched herself on the edge of the sofa, meeting Esme’s eye at her own level. “He’s, well, he’s resting right now, but you don’t have to worry. Coluans have a cool trick they can do when they have to sleep real deep, so you don’t have to walk on eggshells while you’re here, I promise.” She ushered Esme over, pulling her up onto the sofa with her, meeting little resistance. Nia pressed her chin into Esme’s hair, squeezing her against her chest. “We can watch a movie if you want?”

Esme nodded, although she was still a little on the quiet side.

They settled for an old classic: The Wizard of Oz. Kara had kind of managed to get Esme hooked on it the last time she’d babysat. Ever since, Esme treated it as a comfort movie, especially when she was missing her family. With Kara and J’onn currently off-world on Mars, Nia suspected she hadn’t seen much of her family in the last few weeks.

Esme retreated to her own side of the couch once Dorothy had crossed into Oz, her eyes fixed on the screen. At least it had her attention, although Nia couldn’t help but feel like she had something else on her mind.

Her thoughts were confirmed a little after the Tin Man showed up. “Want anything to eat?” Nia prodded.

Esme shook her head, not looking up from the TV.

Nia frowned, nudging Esme with her foot. “Everything alright?”

Esme nodded.

“Hey, I know!” Nia announced, sitting up. “Wanna play the bubble game?”

Headshake.

Nia’s frown deepened. Esme never passed up the bubble game, it was one of her favourites. Now, Nia knew something was really up with her. She pursed her lips, crossing her legs beneath her. “Esme, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t feel him.”

Of all her abilities, super hearing was not one of them. Nia scooched forward, unsure if she’d heard her right. “What do you mean?”

Esme’s nose scrunched at that, as though she was frustrated. She clenched her hands, twisting them against her lap. “Uncle Brainy,” she said, her voice trailing off like a sigh. She shifted, biting her cheek. “My moms told me that my powers are tele-phony.”

“Telepathic,” Nia corrected gently, taking her shoulder.

Esme nodded emphatically. “Uh-huh. Normally—I feel powers when they’re nearby. Yours.” She pointed suddenly to Nia’s centre. “That’s right there. But I can’t feel Uncle Brainy’s. And I always feel his.” She worried her lip, for the first time letting her eyes wander away from the TV. She looked up at Nia, her expression so open and forlorn. “Is it—is it because he’s hurt?”

Nia’s stomach sank. “Oh, honey, no, no, it’s alright. He’s alright.” Nia squeezed Esme’s shoulder, pulling her back up onto her lap. She could feel her little heart drilling an anxious rhythm into her chest. She ran her hand idly through Esme’s hair, folding odd curls behind her ears. “I should’ve explained, that’s my fault, okay? It’s just—that super cool trick I told you about? It’s sorta… a psychic blocker. When Uncle Brainy’s that deeply asleep, nothing can get to him, not even psychic powers. Like… like my dream powers. Or yours, Esme. Even Grandpa J’onn wouldn’t be able to connect to his mind.”

“That sounds scary,” Esme said softly, her hand curling around Nia’s arm.

“It is a little scary sounding from the outside,” Nia admitted, “but for Brainy, it’s kinda the opposite. Like the deepest, most peaceful sleep someone can have. It helps his body heal from just about anything.”

“Is he hurt real bad?”

“Not really, really, but I bet you get sleepy too when you’re not feeling great, right?”

Esme nodded reluctantly.

“Same.” Nia smiled down at her. “Although, I’m sleepy all the time.” She splayed her hand out in front of Esme’s face, a burst of dream energy erupting from her bracelet, springing across every finger.

Esme did crack a smile at that, her eyes wide and full of wonder as she watched the energy dance. Nia grinned, shaking out her hand. “It’s the same for Coluans, too, just, they have a special sleep state for it, that’s all.”

“Okay...”

Nia pressed a kiss into Esme’s hair. “Now, do you want a snack?”

This time, Esme nodded.

Nia smirked. Progress.

She stood up with a stretch, heading over to the kitchen. “Cool, did mom pack anything for you, or d’you think we can get away with ice cream?”

“Ice cream! Ice cream!”

Nia’s smirk grew into a grin. She was sure Alex wouldn’t mind her indulging Esme’s sweet tooth for just one night. After all, she was a life saver.

Before Nia could dish out the first scoop, Esme launched herself from the sofa, trotting over towards the kitchen and her overnight bag. “Wait!”

At first, Nia assumed there was a snack in there she really wanted. That was until Esme produced a different sort of container from her backpack. It was a clear plastic box, with something that rattled furiously inside.

It looked like some kind of craft kit. Nia raised a brow. “Oh, that’s cute. What is it, Esme?”

“Beads and string,” Esme announced proudly, sliding it onto the breakfast bar. “To make bracelets!”

“Oh, you wanna make one while you eat?”

“Mhm.”

Nia grinned, helping lift Esme the last stretch onto the stool so that she could order out her beads with keen focus. As she pulled the lid off, Nia got her first good look at what was inside.

They were… beautiful. Not your average store-bought bead kit, that was for sure. They came in a variety of colours, most of which had a transparent crystalline centre that wrapped around the whole length. Some had little letters engraved on them, but none from a language that Nia recognised.

“Those are some pretty cool beads,” Nia said, sliding Esme’s ice cream over to her. She leant her elbows on the counter, fishing a bead from the container curiously. It was a little heavier than she had expected, like the density of a tiny pebble on the palm of her hand. “Where’d you get them from?”

“Friend from school,” Esme said around a mouthful of ice cream. She pushed the bowl to the side, pulling out a piece of string. “Her dads are from a planet real far away. They brought lots of stuff with them. Rocks and crystals. To make beads.”

Nia’s eyes popped wide open. “So, wait, these are alien rocks?”

Esme shrugged. “Think so.”

“That’s really cool.”

“My friend told me they have protective hor-hor-uhs”

“Oh, auras?” Nia nodded along. “Yeah, lots of planets have special rocks that can do a ton of things.”

Esme took a handful of beads, evening them out across the table. “She told me these ones protect,” she explained. “So, I made some for my moms, and for Auntie Kara and Grandpa J’onn. And-and I can make one for you, too! And then, I can make one for Uncle Brainy.” She nodded seriously to herself. “Maybe-maybe that’d make him feel better.”

Nia’s lips crumpled into a smile. “Oh, that’s a really good idea,” she told her gently. “Here, I can make my own, why don’t you focus on Uncle Brainy’s?”

Esme agreed, poking out her tongue as she lined her first bead up with her piece of string, threading it into place.

They both neglected their ice cream in favour of bracelet making. Nia had to admit, she may have gotten a little carried away. The beads were gorgeous, and she was even able to find a set with a blue crystal centre that was nearly identical to the shade of her super suit. Needless to say, she could totally see herself accessorising these with all sorts of outfits, which would make Esme very happy.

Although, she did wonder if what Esme had been told held any merit. While the beads were different from anything Nia had ever seen before, she wasn’t so sure they could offer any real protection. Although, as she’d learned, alien rocks could do just about anything, and it would’ve been nice if one could do some good for a change. Most of the time they were out to get people, especially Kryptonians.

Suddenly, Esme tugged on Nia’s sleeve, declaring she was finished.

The second she saw Esme’s design, Nia couldn’t help but grin. “Oh yeah,” she said. “He’ll love that.”

Esme had decorated her bracelet with little green and purple beads, in a sort of three-by-three pattern that mimicked the dot formation on Brainy’s chest, especially when it was pinched in at the sides.

Esme bounced eagerly on her stool. “Can I give it to him?”

“Oh, now?” Nia deflated slightly, glancing towards the bedroom, then at her watch. It wasn’t Esme’s bedtime yet, but time really had flown. Brainy hadn’t surfaced though, which she took as a good sign. As much as she knew the restorative cycle wasn’t going to lift on account of their presence, she was reluctant to put any sort of barrier between Brainy’s most necessary healing function.  

Nia deliberated for a moment. “We can leave it at his bedside, how about that?”

Esme slipped off her stool with a wobble, running ahead to the hallway, beads in tow.

“Wait for me, wait for me!” Nia called out, taking Esme’s hand to still her as she pushed the bedroom door open.

The room was darker since the sun’s decline, the only light issuing in from the steady thrum of Brainy’s life projectors, their intense radiance a sure sign he was still well and truly asleep. Nia bit her lip before letting Esme run ahead.

The glow from Brainy’s light cores illuminated a path straight to his nightstand. Esme followed it dutifully, reaching out her arm to place her gift at his bedside.

At the last second, she stopped herself, spinning towards the bed. “I feel him again!” she announced excitedly.

Nia winced – that was definitely not the indoor voice they’d been practicing. A second later, the mound of blankets shifted as Brainy stirred, his life projectors dulling to a soft white as he lifted his head. Esme must have sensed the end of his restorative state before he’d even begun to wake. Nia couldn’t help but feel a little impressed.

Brainy propped himself up against his pillow, rubbing a hand over his eyes in the low light. “Greetings, Esme,” he croaked, his voice still a little mechanised from sleep.

Esme beamed up at him, holding out her arms. “Uncle Brainy!”

Nia took that as her cue. She rushed over, holding Esme back with a gentle hand. “Steady. He’s just woken up.”

Esme frowned. “Uh-oh, is he grumpy?”

Nia smirked. “The grumpiest.”

“I take offence to that assumption,” Brainy mumbled, a touch of humour in his voice. It was already starting to strengthen, though Nia could detect the strain behind his words. He was still diverting too much energy to his injury.

“How are you feeling?” Nia asked seriously, an arm placed strategically across Esme’s front.

“Improved,” Brainy managed, cradling his chest. He tried to sit up, only to gasp out when the movement aggravated his ribs. “Although not fully… myself. I think I need more time to recuperate.”

Nia watched him carefully. “Can I get you anything while you’re up?”

“I’m fine, just, I should hydrate.” He glanced over to his empty water glass, shifting again beneath the sheets, as though preparing to stand.

Nia spoke up before he could give himself another excuse to exacerbate his injury. “I’ll get you some water,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Before he could say anything against her, she turned on her heel, throwing her voice over her shoulder. “Esme, make sure our patient here doesn’t move! Your mom gave him very strict bedrest orders, understand?”

“Okay!” Esme agreed happily, a little too eager to be a nuisance. Nia grinned as she ducked around the corner, confident Brainy would stay put - if only for Esme’s benefit.

Once she was back with the water, she found Esme sat up on the bed at Brainy’s side, half the covers tucked beneath her feet. She watched intently as Brainy took the water from Nia, popping his next round of pills into his mouth before swallowing them down. Nia counted out the hours in her head as he drank, realising belatedly that he must’ve woken himself the second his next dose was due.

When Brainy put the glass down, Esme shuffled closer, nearly knocking her elbow with his. “I made this for you,” she announced, unfurling her fist so that the bracelet dangled from her fingers.

“Impressive,” Brainy observed, making a quick study of the design. His eyes widened. “Those beads,” he said, “they’re from Alteria?”

“My friend gave them to me,” Esme said proudly. “They’re meant to protect you.”

Brainy lowered his head in earnest, taking the bracelet from Esme as though it was as delicate as a pressed flower. “Then I shall wear it with pride,” he said, slipping it onto his wrist. Nia smothered a smile with her hand. It was adorable watching the exchange, especially while Brainy was trying to accessorise in his pyjamas. “Thank you, Esme Olsen-Danvers,” he continued softly, “this gift will be very useful… and fashionable.”

Esme giggled at that, throwing her arms around Brainy’s waist before Nia had a chance to stop her.

Brainy gritted his teeth, but managed to return the hug before Esme pulled away, eyes wide. “Sorry! I’m sorry! Are you okay, Uncle Brainy?”

Brainy nodded, breathing out a quiet reassurance. He’d paled considerably though, his lips pinched with pain.

Nia swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat, taking Esme’s shoulder. “Okay, I think that’s enough excitement for tonight. Uncle Brainy needs to rest.”

“Can I stay and rest too?” Esme asked.

Nia eyed her suspiciously. “What? Am I boring you to sleep, because that’s not how my powers work.”

Esme giggled. “No, silly! But, I wanna stay here with Uncle Brainy. We all should!” Esme held out her wrist, pulling up her sleeve to reveal a bracelet of her own. “Then all our bracelets can protect him, so he won’t get hurt anymore!”

Nia stared at the bracelet for a long moment, not sure what to say. Her heart squeezed sympathetically. “Oh, Esme, honey, I’m not sure that’s-“

“It’s fine,” Brainy said quickly. A little colour had returned to his cheeks, deepening the natural green of his complexion. He was still washed out, and the bruising beneath his eyes really spoke for itself, but he still managed to turn back to Esme, tilting his head in consideration. “That’s… a very logical mindset to have at your age.”

Esme puffed out her chest. “I’m nearly seven!”

Brainy softened. “My error,” he said with wink. “Then you are developing at an expected rate.”

“Heeeey!”

Nia rolled her shoulders out, trying to dispel some of the nervous energy still clinging to her heart. She clapped her hands together. “Alright, Esme, shall we get you in your jammies?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay, let’s go.”

Once Nia had ushered Esme into the bathroom with her change of clothes, she headed back to the bedroom to wait for her, peeking in through the door to make sure Brainy was still awake.

He was.

“Sorry about this,” Nia said softly, climbing up onto the bed. She drew her knees towards her chin, pushing her back against the headboard. “How’s your--?”

Brainy wound an arm around his chest, smiling tightly. “Delicate,” he admitted. “The pills will manage that soon enough.”

“I didn’t realise she was gonna jump at you like that.” Nia snorted, tipping her head back. “I probably should’ve, she’s been thinking about you all night. She made it her mission to make that bracelet for you.” She nodded towards Brainy’s wrist, brows drawn. “Any truth to that?”

Brainy ran a hand around the beads thoughtfully, lowering his chin. “Like many cultures across the universe, faith plays a large part in what precious materials can and cannot do. To the Alteri, their telepathy enables a very real connection to their environment and so yes, I suspect that these beads could to a degree protect those who wear them. Especially if someone with a psychic affinity put them together.”

“Like Esme,” Nia said.

“Or, like you, Nia Nal,” Brainy murmured, leaning towards her. His lips skimmed hers and Nia closed her eyes, sighing softly into his mouth.

When they parted, Nia smiled, glancing down at her own bracelet, comparing it to Brainy’s in the low light. “Well, maybe Esme’s right,” she said. “Maybe three are better than one.”

~~~

Once Esme had brushed her teeth, Nia hoisted her into the bed so that she could nestle between them both. Although she had self-appointed herself Brainy’s personal ward for the night, it surprised no one when she fell asleep first, her head tucked towards Brainy’s chest.  

Brainy lay still in the dark for so long, Nia thought he might have already fallen back into his restorative state, although his life projectors were still muted. She used that soft light to her advantage, studying every inch of her bracelet, the small carvings on the beads she’d selected without knowing which letters they denoted.

After a while, she let a spark of her dreamlight creep up across her wrist, illuminating areas she might have otherwise missed. The crystals appeared to glow under that ethereal swirl, each bead holding within itself a microscopic pulse, a thrum of something more. Magic felt like a silly word for it, but after everything Lena had shown her, Nia was certainly willing to believe it. Maybe it was just a science this world hadn’t discovered yet, or a whole new meaning to the term… life.

Whatever it was, Esme had sought it out just for them. All because…

“Nia?” Brainy mumbled, his voice half smothered by his pillow. “You okay?”

“Huh?” Nia looked up, closing off her dreamlight with a snap of her wrist. “Yeah… fine.” She cleared her throat, flexing her hand out in front of her. “I guess I was just thinking… about…” She glanced down to the young Dyralian bundled between them, her thumb tucked beneath her two front teeth. Nia sighed, folding in on herself with a shrug. “It just can’t be easy when not just your moms, but every adult in your life are superheroes. All this time, Esme’s believed that her family were the safest they ever could be, because they’re the most powerful, y’know? But she’s never seen any of us get hurt before.”

Brainy shifted uncomfortably. “Ah,” he murmured. “Until now.”

Nia picked at her bracelet idly. “You know she made one of these for every single one of us? And yours—she was determined to get it to you the second she was finished making it. She wants to protect us, just like we protect her.”

“It is a noble thing to do,” Brainy mused. His dark eyes flickered to her when he noticed her hesitation. “You have concerns?”

Nia shrugged again. “I dunno, she’s just a kid! She shouldn’t have to worry about that stuff.”

Brainy frowned, pushing up from his pillow. “Nia, no matter how hard we try, she will discover these things organically. That knowledge will help her better understand this life as well as her own abilities. That, too, will protect her.”

“I hope you’re right.” Nia sighed, finding her gaze once again trailing back down to Esme. At how peaceful she was. How perfect. She swallowed, that same dream sense from earlier twisting her stomach into knots. “I guess I never thought about it before, but… Alex and Kelly are the first of us to start a family. Every time I see Esme struggle with something like this, I think… what if— when we—you know—eventually—”

Brainy kissed her again, and Nia’s eyes fluttered, welcoming his warmth. She felt his knuckles against her jaw, working their way beneath her chin. When Brainy broke away, he held her gaze firmly, his breath a buzzing reassurance against her lips. “Then I suspect our child will be the most loved and adept of us all.”

A bubble caught in Nia’s throat and she laughed, nuzzling her nose against Brainy’s. In response, Brainy’s lips continued their path along her jaw, trailing lazy kisses towards her ear. “Esme will fair just fine,” he breathed, a smile curving against her cheek. “After all, she’s already found ways to look out for us, even if she doesn’t understand the power she carries quite yet.”

Nia kept her head inclined towards Brainy even as they settled back onto their respective pillows, careful not to jostle Esme in the process. “She’s strong, that’s for sure,” Nia admitted, stroking a few stray hairs away from Esme’s nose. “In more ways than one.” She reached out her hand for Brainy to take, his pulse a grounding presence on her palm. “Thanks.”

Brainy squeezed her fingers, his lashes fluttering to a close. He was more tired than he would have ever admitted with Esme in earshot, Nia could see it written all over him. She kept her fingers threaded through his, their hands joined on the pillow above Esme’s head.

When Brainy’s projectors intensified as the restorative cycle successfully took hold for the second time that day, Nia let herself relax, allowing the dreams teasing the edges of her subconscious to finally flood through.

One thing was for certain: Alex and Kelly definitely didn’t need to worry about cutting their date short tonight.-

[snackleggg]

Anyway, here's how I headcanon timelord ageing works.

Only applies to their first body:

From when they're loomed until they are age 8 they age like a regular human

At age 8 their ageing slows down to around 15 years equalling 2 years of physical change (this isn't because of the schism, its more that this is the age they look into the schism bc of this being the point of slower aging)

This continues until they physically reach the age of around 40, then their ageing picks up again to be probably only a little slower than that of a human (every 2 years would be 1 year of physical ageing)

Post-first body ageing:

Every body after the first gains longer and longer "life span" so to speak (which means how long they can have that body before succumbing to "old age" would get longer with each regeneration, even if they regenerated with an old body)

Similar to the first body, after a certain amount of time the body's ageing will started rapidly increasing in speed

[immortalsins]

time to accept that I'm upset about the fact "its OK if you just want to be friends" is empty words. that's not going to happen!! & i can never go back to the society we met in because it'll just be awkward! without us EVER dating (unless we were and I wasn't aware of it). so sick of not understanding this stuff i wish it was simple and clear

[solqrays]

just had the horrifying realisation that i might be a gold jewelery person rather than a silver jewelery person . . .

[levil0vesyou]

Literally what are you still doing here!!! What do you want!!! Just unfollow me!!! What, you didn't notice you're the one mutual I deliberately didn't refollow with the new main??

What do I have to do to get your terf ass to finally fuck off

[pessimisticrunawaygalaxy]

whyd the do taht to ivy btw

[29121996]

.

[archerstreet]

did you know that my dad uses a lighter to light agarbatti like it's a mosquito thing and

[yaminerua]

it’s a little odd watching the original run in the 60s and knowing that at the time it didn’t really have specific ages in mind so you see Jamie hit on Victoria a little and see that he is very fond of her but the much much later stories that came in the form of audio dramas or novels in the 90s actually giving them birth years kind of fucks with that bc it makes Jamie around 22 and Victoria either 14 or 15 at the time they’re travelling together with the Doctor so I have to kind of remember that those ages are later additions in supplementary media so that it doesn’t feel too squicky to see

[svtiddiess]

Show 'Em How It's Done

Synopsis: Everyone assumes Mingyu is the submissive one when it comes to bedroom activities, so he proves them wrong.

Pairing: non-idol!Mingyu x afab!reader

Genre: smut, oneshot, established relationship, non-idol au

Rating: mature

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), creampie, semi-public sex, exhibitionism? (they're in a different room but can still be heard), dom!Mingyu, big dick!Mingyu, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: This was requested! I hope you enjoy it!

Thank you so much to @seokgyuu and @okiedokrie for beta reading!

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Your eyes light up as you see the cabin you're staying for the weekend come into view. Mingyu, your boyfriend, had planned this trip with his friend group—a much-needed escape to the woods. Thanks to Seungcheol's generous use of his credit card, they managed to rent a spacious and stunning cabin tucked away in nature.

At first, you assumed Mingyu wanted a boys-only weekend, but to your surprise, he was adamant that you join them. Despite your repeated refusals, he insisted this was the perfect chance for you to finally meet and get to know his closest friends. He also claimed that he'd be extremely sad and lonely if he spent an entire two days without you, a reason that made you snort. Eventually, you gave in, and Mingyu’s excitement over your agreement was downright infectious.

After a gruelling four-hour drive, you sigh and stretch, glad to finally move your stiff limbs. Your gaze shifts to Mingyu, who’s focused on reverse parking with one hand resting on the back of your seat. Your cheeks heat up—it’s ridiculous how even after six months together, he still makes your heart flutter over something so simple. But really, who could blame you? It's not your fault your boyfriend is so hot.

"Thanks for driving, my Mingoo," you say with a smile, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek.

"You missed," he pouts, tapping his lips with his finger.

Laughing, you lean in for a quick peck, but before you can pull away, Mingyu places a hand on the back of your head and deepens the kiss. A surprised squeak escapes you, followed by soft giggles against his lips.

"Did you really think I’d let you off the hook with that weak excuse of a kiss?" He teases, his grin playful.

"You’re such a baby," you huff, rolling your eyes.

"Your baby," he counters smugly.

Still chuckling, you climb out of the car and stretch again as Mingyu unloads your luggage. Your jaw drops as you take in the sight of the large cabin before you. It’s impressive—definitely worth thanking Seungcheol for later.

"Looks like some of them are already here," Mingyu says, nodding toward the other cars parked nearby.

Suddenly, the realisation hits that you’ll be meeting most of his friends for the first time, and nerves start to bubble up. You’ve met Seungcheol and Wonwoo before, but this will be your first encounter with the entire group. Mingyu has been close with them since high school, and despite going their separate ways for college and work, their bond has remained rock-solid.

Sensing your unease, Mingyu sets down the bags and walks over to you. He takes your hand, his touch steady and comforting, and flashes you a reassuring smile.

"Don’t stress, babe. They’re going to love you. I promise," he says softly.

"But what if I embarrass myself? What if the first impression I give them is of me being a total idiot?" you groan, your palms growing clammy.

Mingyu chuckles, shaking his head. "Babe, trust me. You can’t out-dumbass them. They’re the biggest idiots I know," he says with a laugh. "So relax, okay? You’ve got nothing to worry about."

His words, paired with the kiss he plants on your forehead, manage to soothe your nerves a little. You sigh, nodding reluctantly. Mingyu squeezes your hand one last time before returning to the luggage. Taking a deep breath, you follow him inside, determined to make the best of the weekend.

Getting to know Mingyu’s friend group has been…an experience, to say the least. He wasn’t kidding when he said they were idiots but in the best possible way. They’re warm, welcoming, and a little chaotic—a combination that instantly makes you feel at ease. In fact, Soonyoung, Seungkwan, and Seokmin even "initiated" you into their inner circle. You’ve officially become one of the boys.

Right now, the entire group is sprawled across the living room, all varying levels of drunk, playing games. You’re sitting on the floor between Mingyu and Vernon, caught up in a lively game of Truth or Dare. Currently, Jeonghan has dared Joshua to get slapped in the face with kimchi, and to everyone’s delight, Joshua actually went through with it.

You’re doubled over, clutching your stomach in laughter, tears streaming down your face as Joshua wipes kimchi off his cheek with an exasperated expression. Jeonghan, of course, looks beyond pleased with himself.

It’s Soonyoung’s turn next, and judging by the mischievous glint in his eyes and his unsteady giggles, the alcohol is fully in charge now. He spins toward Mingyu with a maniacal grin.

"So, Gyu. Truth or dare?" he asks, practically bouncing in place.

Mingyu, who’s only slightly tipsy, shakes his head with a laugh. "Truth. I’m not risking anything."

"Boo!" Soonyoung pouts dramatically, earning exaggerated groans of disappointment from the rest of the group.

"Buzzkill!" Seokmin calls out from the couch.

"I’d rather not get kimchi-slapped by Jeonghan," Mingyu quips, casting a wary glance at Jeonghan.

"Hey, it’s an enlightening experience," Joshua deadpans, still dabbing his face with a tissue. Jeonghan simply laughs.

Soonyoung suddenly gasps, his eyes wide as if he’s just discovered the secret to the universe. "Oh my God, I got it!" he shouts, his grin downright unhinged. "Gyu, is it true that you’re the submissive one in the bedroom?!"

Your jaw drops. The room instantly explodes with laughter.

"W-What?!" Mingyu stammers, his brows furrowing in shock.

"You heard me!" Soonyoung giggles. "You’re the submissive one, aren’t you?"

Mingyu scoffs, shaking his head. "I’m not."

"Aw, come on, Gyu. Don’t be shy about it," Jeonghan teases, his grin only fueling the chaos. The laughter around you grows louder.

Your face burns as the conversation continues, the guys piling on the teasing with no mercy.

"Guys, seriously, can we not?" Mingyu whines, clearly flustered.

"Not until you admit it!" Seungcheol grins, leaning forward with mock intensity.

"It’s true, right, Y/N? Mingyu’s the submissive one in the bedroom, isn’t he?" Seungkwan chimes in, his laughter contagious.

Your cheeks heat up even more, and you hide your face in your hands, which only makes them laugh harder.

"No need to be shy, Y/N. We all know Gyu’s a massive simp for you—in and out of the bedroom," Joshua says with a wink.

You giggle softly, finally giving in. "Well…he is a huge simp for me."

The room erupts into chaos, everyone howling with laughter.

"She admitted it!" Soonyoung screams, practically rolling on the floor.

"So it’s true! He is submissive!" Jun adds, laughing so hard he has to wipe his eyes.

"I knew it!" Chan chimes in, grinning from ear to ear.

Mingyu groans, his face buried in his hands. "Babe~," he whines, looking at you with a pout.

You offer him an apologetic smile and lean in to kiss his cheek. "Sorry," you murmur, trying to stifle a laugh.

Mingyu grumbles and pouts as the rest of the boys continue to roar with laughter.

The game carries on, but you notice your beer is empty. Announcing to the group that you’re heading to the kitchen to grab more, you stand up and make your way into the next room, separated from the living area by a wall.

You open the fridge and grab a bottle, then reach for the kitchen drawer to find a bottle opener—only to discover it’s missing. With a quiet grumble, you crouch down to check the lower drawers, rummaging through them in hopes of finding what you need.

That’s when you feel it—a presence behind you, someone pressing up against your back. You gasp softly and straighten up quickly, attempting to turn around, but the person behind you cages you in, their arms trapping you against the counter.

"So… it’s true, huh? That I’m the submissive one?" Mingyu’s voice is low as he whispers in your ear.

Relief washes over you when you realise it’s just your boyfriend. Letting out a soft laugh, you shake your head. "Gyu, they were just messing with you," you say, amused at how hung up he still is on the topic.

"But you didn’t deny it," he murmurs, his voice tinged with mock offence. "You told them I’m a simp for you."

"That’s because you are a simp for me," you tease, glancing at him over your shoulder.

"I am," he admits, his tone unashamed as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "But I’m definitely not the submissive one."

Before you can respond, Mingyu rolls his hips against you, his movement deliberate. The sudden sensation draws a surprised gasp from your lips.

"Right, babe?" he teases, and you can feel the smug grin spreading across his face as he continues his little game.

You bite your bottom lip, your body warming under his touch as he grinds against you, the growing pressure unmistakable. "Gyu, not here," you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. "They’ll hear us."

"That’s the whole point, sweetheart," he purrs, his voice dripping with mischief.

"Fuck, Gyu," a soft whimper escapes your lips at a particularly hard grind, causing Mingyu to chuckle.

"What if I just bend you over and fuck you right here? You would like that, wouldn't you, sweetheart?" He chuckles.

"Gyu, I-" A loud moan escapes your lips, and you quickly bite your lip to prevent any more sounds from escaping.

Grabbing your hips, Mingyu starts guiding your hips against his, pushing your ass against his hard cock. You feel your mind start to get fuzzy as you feel how hard he has become.

"Beg for it, sweetheart. Beg for me to ruin you with my cock," he purrs in your ear.

"Gyu, please… I need it," you whisper, your cheeks flushing with heat.

"Need what, babe?" he asks, his tone playful, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. Your soft whine only makes his grin widen.

"Need you to ruin me with your cock," you mumble.

"Good girl," he whispers before placing a kiss on the shell of your ear.

Without warning, he bends you over the kitchen counter; a yelp escapes your lips as your cheeks make contact with the cold marble. A slow, teasing hand runs down your back, leaving goosebumps in its trail; you can't help but let out a small whine of frustration, eliciting a chuckle from Mingyu.

"So impatient," he smirks as he slaps your ass, drawing a gasp from you.

He unbuckles your pants, and you help him shimmy it off of you, shivering as the cold air nips at your bare legs. He hums as he rubs a finger on your panty-clad pussy, making you whimper.

"So wet already?" he teases with a low chuckle, his tone dripping with mockery.

"Gyu, please," you plead, your voice trembling with desperation, unable to endure his relentless teasing any longer.

"Admit it," he growls softly, his lips brushing against your ear. "Admit that you're the submissive one in bed."

"I'm the submissive one in bed," you cry out, your cheeks burning. "Now, please, just fuck me already!"

Laughing at your impatience, Mingyu slaps your pussy, making you mewl as a sharp wave of pain and pleasure wash over you.

"Such a good girl. My good girl," he growls before unbuckling his pants and slipping out his cock.

Moving your panties to the side, he teases you by rubbing his dick against your folds, coating the tip with your juices. Desperate to feel him, you arch your hips back, seeking more, but Mingyu firmly holds you in place, pressing you tightly against the counter with ease. You let out a frustrated whine, wiggling your hips in a futile attempt to gain some control, but Mingyu’s strength easily overpowers you. Helpless under his grip, you surrender, letting him take the lead like the good girl he knows you are.

He spits on his cock, using it as lube, and gives it a few pumps before slowly inserting it into your tight hole. Your eyes roll back, and your mouth goes agape as you finally feel his cock inside you; his cock stretching you out deliciously. Mingyu's big, the biggest you've ever had, so every time he fucks you, it feels like the first.

Grunts escape his lips as he tries to restrain himself from slamming into you; you feel so good wrapped around him. A choked whimper escapes your lips when you feel his tip kiss your cervix. He pulls out halfway before slamming back into you, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Without hesitation, Mingyu picks up the pace; each thrust rough and relentless. Broken moans and soft whimpers spill from your lips, your mind too clouded with pleasure to focus on anything but the way he fills you so perfectly.

"That's right, sweetheart," he purrs against your ear, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "Be loud. Let everyone know how good I’m making you feel."

"G-Gyu," you manage to moan, your voice trembling. "S-so good… feels so good."

"Only I can make you feel this good, isn’t that right, sweetheart?" he growls, his voice rough with possession. One hand moves to grip your neck, holding you firmly in place, while the other steadies your hips.

"Yes! You—only you!" you cry out, your voice shaky as the overwhelming pleasure pushes you closer to the edge.

"Gyu, I'm so close! Please—please, please!" you beg, your words tumbling out in desperate sobs as you plead for release.

The hand holding your hips shifts to circle your clit with precision, and you scream out his name. The knot in your stomach finally unravels, and your vision blurs as a wave of euphoria crashes over you. Pleasure ripples through your body, leaving you breathless as you chant his name like a prayer. Mingyu doesn't let up, his movements steady as he thrusts into you, guiding you through the intensity of your release. After a few more thrusts, he cums inside you, filling you up; your fluids mixing together.

You both take a moment to catch your breath, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing. Slowly, he slides out, a soft whimper escaping your lips at the sensation. Pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he adjusts your panties back into place. You cringe slightly, feeling the fabric cling uncomfortably to your skin.

"Keep my cum in you; I'll make sure to fuck it back into you later," he purrs, making you blush.

He helps you stand and gently guides you back into your pants before slipping into his own clothes. Running his fingers through your messy hair, he smooths it down before wiping away any drool and sweat from your face. Then, he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. You smile into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. When he pulls back, he nuzzles your nose with his, drawing a soft giggle from you.

"Ready to head back?" he murmurs, his voice low and affectionate.

You nod, grabbing your now lukewarm beer before following him back into the living room.

"Did we miss anything?" Mingyu asks casually as he takes a seat, acting as if he didn't just fuck your brains out a few minutes before.

"N-Nothing, you missed nothing," Soonyoung stammers, awkwardly clearing his throat as he tries to hide his very obvious boner.

Your gaze sweeps across the room, and you realise the rest of them are just as flustered, each one failing miserably to hide their boners. You burst into laughter at their awkward state, and Mingyu joins in, clearly enjoying the moment.

With a smug grin, Mingyu looks around at his friends before cupping your face and pulling you in for a deep, possessive kiss. The room fills with groans and exaggerated complaints.

"Get a room!" someone yells, earning more laughter from the both of you.

You giggle into the kiss, relishing the playful teasing, while Mingyu smirks against your lips, clearly pleased to have proven their earlier jabs entirely wrong.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @tomodachiii @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Teacher's Pet (Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Professor Harkness takes on so few students. You're determined to become on. A non-magic AU with professor!Agatha.

Words: 7.4k

Warnings: Praise kink, possessiveness, obsessiveness, drinking, teacher/student relationship, age gap (but all over 18+), smut, fingering (R receiving), oral sex (R receiving), biting, Dom!Agatha, sub!R, power imbalance, unhealthy dynamics

You’d heard the whispers around campus about Professor Harkness’s class. The rumours were passed around like a ghost story told under the cover of night at camp. You stored them, collected each one like a gem, richer for every word you were gifted by the rumour mill. Drunk students would try one up one another at house parties, wanting to share the worst of her and win the competition.

You were fascinated with the legend of her before you ever laid eyes on her.

It was at a faculty party, your history professor extending an invitation to all of his most promising students. You’d shown up, expecting nothing but other old men, ruing the day the students grew so rowdy, passing around stories about their own college days when they showed far more respect to their professors than your lot ever did.

Instead, you’d found her, nursing a glass of red wine in the library, a heavy book open in her palm. She glanced up, piercing blue eyes settling on you with disinterest, and yet you felt like you’d been struck by lightning. You took a deep breath as her eyes left you, going back to the book in her hand, and made your way further into the room.

Your finger trailed over the spines of the book, most leather bound and weighty, older than the mess of paperbacks in your dorm room. Scanning the titles, you realised each one was on World War I. You wrinkled your nose, continuing on.

You knew you should have been trying to network with some of the most eminent professors in the history department, but now you were finding it hard to break free from the woman’s gravity. So you stayed, looking over the books, trying to find something that would suggest your professor wasn’t as boring as you suspected he was. And if you kept sneaking glances at the other woman, then it was an added bonus to your evening. Dark hair and pale skin, red lips curling up at the corner, dressed in clothes that must have cost more than your entire wardrobe combined, she was the most wonderful thing to look at in that room.

She did not pay you any attention.

“Ah, there you are.”

You glanced up, your professor swaggering through the door, a glass of scotch dangling from his fingertips. In the corner of your eye, you saw the woman tilt her head in his direction.

“Oh good. I’m so glad the two of you found each other,” he said.

You looked over at the woman, finding her staring down your professor with a look of absolute disdain. Clasping your hands in front of oyur body, you waited for some kind of explanation. Your professor drew closer, the bounce in his step seemingly suggesting he hadn’t noticed the way the woman was looking at him.

“Agatha, let me introduce you to my best student.”

He scooped you up on his way, the hand on the small of your back directing you towards her. You’d done your best to keep your distance from her, not sure she’d appreciate you interrupting her. Now, propelled towards her, a sense of anticipation mixed with anxiety curdled in your stomach into something you didn’t like.

When he said your name, those blue eyes focused on you. You wouldn’t say there was interest there, but it certainly was something more than the disdain she’d shown him.

“Agatha’s interests lie more in historical folklore surrounding witchcraft,” he told you.

“Oh,” you said, “I was hoping to look at that for my senior thesis.”

“Agatha Harkness,” she said, eyebrow raising, holding a hand out to you.

You grasped it in yours, her warm skin soft where it met your palm. It was like an electric shock went through you from her touch while you tried to fit this view of a woman with the figure of legend you’d been collecting stories on for the last few years at college.

“Don’t you go trying to poach my best student, Agatha,” you professor tutted, “I’m still trying to convince her to instead look at something more modern and practical.”

“You believe another World War I scholar is practical?” she asked, the drawl of her voice letting you know exactly what she thought of that opinion.

“I would say there’s more need for them in the workforce than witches,” he replied, still good-naturedly, but his gaze had hardened.

“We should talk,” she said to you, turning her head back to you, blocking your professor out of the conversation.

“I’d like that,” you said, knowing you sounded breathless and probably too eager, but you weren’t about to miss this opportunity.

She finally let your hand go, fingers stroking softly along the length of your palm. Your lips parted and for just a moment her gaze lingered there before looking back to your professor.

“You may go now,” she told him, not bothering to keep it behind the cover of polite respectability.

He sputtered out some argument. She rolled her eye, placing a hand on the small of your back, so different from when his hand had been there, and led you out of the door. Eyes followed the two of you, most focused on her, a ripple of something going through the rest of the party. She pushed the front door open, leading you into the cool air of the night.

“So,” she said, leaning back against the railing of the porch, “you’re interested in witchcraft, are you?”

“Yes,” you replied, softly, almost embarrassed, and yet certain in your conviction.

“You should know that oaf is taking such an interest in you because you’re such a pretty young thing,” she said, “his last favourite is now positioned somewhere nice like Yale or Cambridge and he keeps taking the credit for putting her there.”

“I have no interest in World War I,” you said, hoping that was answer enough.

“Clever girl.”

The thrill of her praise would sustain you long after the party was over.

“If you’re serious about pursuing witchcraft for your senior thesis, come by my office tomorrow morning with a proposal,” she said.

She maintained eye contact as she took a long sip from her wine, her lipstick leaving a mark on the glass. You couldn’t stop yourself watching her, already under her spell. She passed the glass to you, half drunk, and turned to walked down the steps.

“Don’t disappoint me,” she called over her shoulder before disappearing in the night.

You drained the last of the wine from her glass and left it there on the wooden floor of the porch. You returned home without bothering to take your leave of your professor, knowing he wouldn’t matter by that time tomorrow. You were going to give her the best proposal she’d ever seen, of that you were determined.

She agreed to oversee your senior thesis on historical folklore of witchcraft.

You learnt very quickly that Professor Harness’s demanding nature wasn’t an overblown rumour. She expected excellence from you. Late nights and early mornings, you spent so much time with you nose in your books the outside world stopped feeling real. Your fingers had grown ink stained and your eyes ached from the strain of reading such small type.

Every meeting, she sent you home with a new stack of books, expecting you to be there again in a few days having read them all, ready to discuss every little detail in her office for hours on end. She took up most of your waking hours, and when you did manage to snatch some sleep, she haunted your dreams.

You hadn’t gotten over the way lightning had struck at your first meeting.

Her office had turned into a sanctuary for you. You’d rush in, an armful of books almost tumbling to the floor before you threw them down into one of her chairs and curling up on the sofa she kept flush to the wall under the window. Some days you were there from the moment she arrived until long after the sun set, just reading and taking notes.

The office itself was warm, sometimes overly so, the sun coming through the window at just the right angle to heat the air. Her desk was large, imposing, the perfect symbol for the woman who had become legend around campus. Bookshelves were overflowing with all kinds of books. Cheap paperbacks, hardcovers, leather-bound, in pristine condition and falling apart. Some she’d let you pour over but leave behind at the end of the night, others she sent you off with. All you knew was you wanted the chance to read every single one.

Sharing the space with her was just as nerve inducing as it was the first time. You became so aware of yourself, wanting to impress her. When she’d sit beside you, the sofa cushions dipping until you felt yourself slip towards her, you’d grow so still, trying to not touch her, scared of what that would do to you. Sometimes, she lent forward to look at the page you were reading and her dark hair would brush your skin.

There were times when you thought she might know what you were thinking. The way you felt out of control around her. Your need to impress her. Her gaze would linger just a fraction of a moment longer than was appropriate, assessing every inch of you. Sometimes her fingertips would graze over the skin of your cheek, or she’d grasp your chin, or she’d gently move your hair out of your face. Hours spent together, and you could never tell how she felt about you or your work.

It only made you try harder.

It wasn’t until two months in that your friends decided to take matters into their own hands. You’d just returned from a full day studying in her office when a knock sounded on your door. Stifling a yawn, you pulled the door open.

“Oh, so you are still alive,” you friend said, shoving past you into your tiny dorm room.

“Hello to you too,” you said.

“There’s a party tonight. You’re coming. Don’t even bother arguing. No one has seen you since you started studying with the witch,” she said, picking up a banana on your desk that had begun to turn brown, “seriously, does she keep you chained up or something?”

You weren’t about to dignify that with an answer. Not that the thought of being bound by Professor Harkness was one that you hated. It just wasn’t worth the time explaining that.

“I have so much work I still need to do,” you said.

“You’ve been working too hard. Come on, it’ll be fun. You still remember what fun is like, right?”

In the end, you let her drag you to the party after raiding your wardrobe for something more party appropriate. Standing, clutching the red solo cup full of something that burnt as it went down, you watched the game of ping pong going on.

“I’d be terrified if I had to spend all that time with her,” some guy was saying to you.

“She’s not that scary,” you said, already regretting your decision to come.

“Nah. I heard she made some guy piss himself with just a look,” he said, swaying closer to you.

“She’s not like that,” you said, shaking your head, “sounds like that guy just has poor bladder control.”

“Ha, you’re funny,” he said, leaning closer until his sour breath washed over your face, “wanna come upstairs so you can tell me what she’s really like?”

“No thank you,” you said, shoving him away form you.

“Whatever,” he spat, “frigid bitch.”

“So what’s she actually like?” your friend said, taking the drunk guy’s place when he swung away from you.

“Quiet, exacting, demanding,” you replied, “she expects excellence.”

“Sounds exhausting,” she said.

“No, no, it’s great. I love it. She’s… great,” you said, looking down into your cup, swirling the liquid in it, “she’s kind of brilliant.”

“Careful. You sound like you’re in love with her,” your friend laughed.

“Don’t be stupid,” you snapped.

“Maybe she’s done a spell on you. You know everyone says she’s an actual witch? She’s certainly mean enough,” she said.

“She’s not,” you snapped, “seriously, all those rumours are made up by sad little people who feel inferior whenever they see a smart woman because they know they can’t ever live up to her.”

“She growled like a dog at some guy who cut her off as she was walking,” she said.

“People make up such stupid lies,” you said.

“Someone has video of her insulting some students. It went viral on TikTok,” she said.

“They probably deserved it. She has standards,” you said.

“I’m just saying, be careful with her. Maybe she’s trying to recruit you to her coven, or maybe she’s hoping to sacrifice you in some ritual to get more power,” she said.

“Shut up,” you snapped.

Downing the last of your drink, you crumpled the cup and flung it aside.

“I’m going home. I have too much work to be getting on with for this,” you said.

“Hey, no, come on. I’ll stop talking about her,” she said.

You shook her hand off you.

“I’ll see you around.”

You ignored her as she shouted after you, letting yourself out through the back gate. Curling your arms around your body, you strode off down the sidewalk. The night air held a chill to it, the slow drip of autumn beginning to give way to winter. You tipped your head back to look at the night sky, so dark, the moon just beginning to wax.

You let your feet lead you back towards your dorm building, wandering through the night and the shadows. The air was crisp in your lungs and you let yourself breath in deeply. You should have been home, reading up on the intersect of witch trails with gynophobia in the Renaissance, but instead you had wasted time on a bunch of drunk idiots for nothing.

“You’re out late.”

You startled, whirling around, heart thumping in your chest. Stepping out of the shadows, hands in her pockets, Professor Harkness looked like the devil come to collect your soul. You’d give it willingly if only she asked for it.

“I was at a party,” you said.

“You should be careful,” she said, taking slow steps towards you, “pretty young thing like you all alone at night. Anything could happen.”

The way she smiled made you feel as if she was the wolf and you the sheep, the prey to her predator. You were desperate to let her sink her teeth deeply into you.

“Nothing that interesting happens to me,” you said, voice quiet.

“Come, pet,” she said, hand landing on the small of your back, “I’ll walk you home. Can’t have something happen to you. I’ll feel so much guilt.”

You let her lead you back towards campus, the bright lights beckoning you home. You didn’t ask how she knew where to take you, so focused on the feeling of her hand splayed over your back, the warmth of her skin seeping through your thin shirt and into your skin.

“I suppose I’ve forgotten what it is to be young. I assumed you’d be curled up in bed, reading the texts I gave you,” she said, “of course you’d be out on a Friday night at a party.”

“My friend dragged me with her. Apparently I’ve been missing in action since I started working with you. She said I needed to have fun,” you said.

“I thought we were having fun,” she said, voice a low rumbled against your ear.

“We are. I am,” you said, so quick it brought a smirk to her lips when you turned your face towards her, “I shouldn’t have gone tonight. It was a waste of time.”

“Have you been drinking?” she asked. When you didn’t answer, she lent closer, “I won’t tell anyone if you have.”

“I’m over 21,” you whispered.

“Such a grown up girl,” she said, “I can smell the cheap vodka on you.”

She paused in front of your dorm building, warm light spilling out the entrance. Both hands came up to cup your cheeks, calloused skin scraping against yours, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. She lent forward again, right into your personal space. Her fingertips stroked over your soft skin as she pulled them away before her index finger gently tugged on your lower lip.

“Sweet dreams, kitten,” she whispered before disappearing back into the shadows of the night. If not for your racing heart you might have thought you’d hallucinated the entire thing.

She didn’t mention it when you slunk into her office on Monday, passing you a cup of coffee without a single word, but a raised eyebrow. You took it with grace, curling up on her sofa, opening the book in your lap. When she settled beside you, feet kicked up on her coffee table, you didn’t even look at her out of the corner of your eyes.

Her fingers were soft as they brushed your hair over your shoulder, gently tucking it behind your ear. Lingering on the curve of your jaw, you shivered, dragging your gaze over to her. The corner of her lips pulled up for a fleeting moment.

“Tell me your thoughts.”

You did, the words spilling over your words like secrets, softly spoken in the confessional of her office. You lent back, watching you, legs spread, interest in her blue eyes. Her finger ran along the length of her lip, intent as she watched you talk yourself out. Once you were done, her hand came to cradle the back of your head, nails scraping over your scalp.

“It appears as if your weekend wasn’t totally wasted,” she said.

“No,” you said.

“Good.” Her lips pressed together to repress her smile, “keep reading.”

Her long fingers tapped the book in your lap and she left you alone to your reading. You snuck a glance at her before bowing your head and trying not to think about what this meant.

Nor the way you yearned for more.

From that day, you noticed a change. Her hands would linger on you, her touch growing familiar and yet no less exciting. You stayed later and later, curling up on her sofa, growing comfortable as you waded through history with her. She guided you, shaping your research into something you could be proud of as you poured over books and wrote long paragraphs for her to read. Shared meals and shared drinks, you’d sit on the floor of her office, take out containers scattered over the coffee table. You shrunk further away from your friends, finding their conversations inane and childish, drunken antics no longer fun but puerile as you worked on something far more important. You lost yourself in that room, an addict who needed their fix every day or else you were given over to malaise.

She indulged your need for her attention, her open door policy lasting 24 hours a day. She seemed to enjoy how much you wanted to share the same air as her. Every time you said something, your eyes would turn to her, desperate for her approval which she freely gave. You spent time watching the way her fingers traced over words on the page in front of you, trying not to think about how much you wanted her to do the same thing across your bare skin. Her praise became greater, more frequent, each one hard won for, and each one treasured like the most precious of gifts, hoarding them to revisit every night before you fell asleep.

You hadn’t realised how comfortable you’d grown in her presence until the afternoon you realised you’d fallen asleep on the sofa as you tried to craft the perfect sentence. Your eyelashes fluttered and you were slow to blink your eyes open. Draped in a soft blanket, the warm air heated from the small space heater Professor Harkness had dragged into the office, you glanced around the room. It was darker than you’d remembered, the window showing a night sky while the lamps offered a soft refuge against the dark.

Something tightened around your ankle. You turned your attention towards it. Professor Harkness was sitting on the other end of the sofa, your bare feet resting in her lap. The book in her hand was left unattended as she stared down at you, a confusing expression on her face. Her grip on your ankle tightened again and you offered a lazy smile.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to drop off,” you said, voice rough with sleep.

“I’ve been wearing you out,” she said.

With the softness of sleep making it difficult to school your features, your cheeks heated at the implication. Not that you would have minded. In fact, you wished that was the reason you were so tired.

Her finger trailed along the arch of your foot. You shifted, the touch a tickle. She did it again, smiling down at you before she let you go.

“Sleep, if you have to. You’re no use to me if you’re too tired to function,” she said.

“No, no, I’m okay,” you said, sitting up, the blanket pooling around you.

The thought that she’d placed it over you for your comfort made your head spin. To then sit by you, to welcome any part of you into her personal space as you slept was even worse. Your chest ached and your heart clenched and you wanted to crawl into her lap.

“Perhaps you’re right. We should take a break. I’ve been working you too hard,” she said.

You would let her work you harder if it meant more moments like this.

“Come, pet. I’m taking you to dinner.”

You were helpless as you followed her. She drove, the car feeling so close with the dark night pressing in against the windows. You tried not to watch her, the hands you’d been fantasising about controlling the machine with such power.

The restaurant was nice. Intimate. Small tables and soft lamps offering pools of light, plenty of shadows to hide in. The maître d' seemed to recognise her, leading her to a table at the back. You lowered into your seat, taking note of the candle on the table between the two of you. The entire thing felt like a dream.

“Um, I’m not sure I can afford this place,” you said.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, waving off your worry, “I’m paying.”

“Oh.” You clasped your hands in your lap, “thank you, Professor.”

“Why do you always call me that?” she asked.

“Call you what?” you asked.

“Professor,” she replied, “I have a name.”

“Sorry. Do you not like it? I was trying to be respectful,” you said, anxiety taking hold of you.

“Agatha is fine,” she said.

“Okay,” you replied, “Agatha.”

Her smile was self satisfied and she lent back in her chair, eyes sweeping over you. You let her drink her fill of you, not sure what she was looking for, but wanting to give it to her. You’d give her anything she asked for.

“I must admit, I wasn’t sure about taking on a student. I usually don’t. But I’m glad I did. You’ve been quite the diligent student,” she said.

“I’m glad you did too,” you said.

“Of course you are, pet,” she said.

Before you could say anything else, the waiter paused by the side of the table. She ordered for you, glancing over as she did so as if ensure you didn’t argue. You weren’t about to. You’d do whatever she wanted as long as it pleased her.

The wine was expensive, full bodied, better than any other you’d had. It stained her lips and you wanted to lick it free from where it clung to her skin. The discussion over dinner was about the things you’d read that day, listening to the way she so easily connected one story to another. Her mastery was awe inspiring. It was easy to ignore the romantic setting and the wine that kept being poured for you as she spoke, her husky voice doing something delicious to you.

It wasn’t until dessert that it all came crashing back into you. The creme brûlée in front of her was beautiful. The spoon cracked the top and she took a bite, slowly pulling the spoon from between her lips. Her eyelids fluttered shut and a low moan reverberated through her chest. Your cheeks heated, thighs pressing together, turning breathless. A slow smile spread over her face and when her eyes opened again they were smouldering.

“You must try this. No other place does one as good,” she said.

“Oh, uh…” You looked down at the tiramisu in front of you.

“Come here, pet.”

She held out a spoon of the creme brûlée towards you. You lent forward, not quite able to believe what was happening. She placed it in your mouth, blue eyes holding yours over the top of the candle’s flame. It felt as if everything was moving in slow motion as she drew the spoon back.

The small noise of pleasure that came from you had her gaze lowering to your lips. Your tongue darted out, chasing the sugar on your lips. Her eyes darkened and she lent closer over the table.

“How’s that, pet?” she asked, husky, a rasp of a voice.

“It’s delicious,” you said, breathless and high pitched, a perfect opposite to her.

“It is, isn’t it?”

You watched in fascination as she scooped up some more, her tongue licking the spoon clean. Your breath hitched. Under the table, her foot gently brushed against your shin. Her blue eyes twinkled with something you wanted to drown in.

“Eat your dessert, kitten,” she said, “then I’ll take you home.”

You did as you were told, not even tasting coffee and cream of your own dessert. You were so focused on watching her devour her’s, indecent in how much pleasure she took from it. You were squirming in your seat as she finished, feeling on fire.

It wasn’t fair. Nothing about this was fair. You wanted her so much and she was just… making it worse.

She seemed not to realise the exact effect she was having on you as she led you out of the restaurant and back into her car. You stared out the window, not needing to be caught staring any more than you already had. It wasn’t until the rumble of the engine cut off that you realised something.

“This isn’t my home,” you said, staring up at the large two story house in front of you.

“No, it’s mine,” she said.

“What?”

You whipped around to stare at her. She wasn’t even looking back, the door open as she stepped out of the car.

“Are you coming or what?” she asked.

You scrambled to follow her, almost tripping over yourself in your haste. You weren’t sure what you expected, reproach for following her into her house or to be welcomed in with warmth. What you weren’t expecting was to follow her into the back where the kitchen was.

“Do you want tea?” she asked.

“Sure,” you replied, “what am I doing here?”

“Having tea,” she said, glancing at you over her shoulder.

“And then?” you asked.

“Going to sleep. I can’t trust you to do that on your own,” she replied, “clearly.”

“I really am sorry about that,” you said.

“Stop apologising,” she snapped.

Your lips formed the word sorry again before you stopped yourself. Instead, you watched her boil the water for the tea. Your confusion was mixing with your yearning, leaving you unable to do anything but wait for her to tell you what was going on. Pouring the water into two mugs, the strings from the teabags resting against the sides, she looked over her shoulder at you again.

“Come on then.”

You followed her with the two mugs of tea into her living room. It was comfortable, almost like a more lived in version of her office. Sitting beside her on the couch, comfortable and well loved, you watched her lean forward and place one mug on the coffee table. She passed the other to you, fingers brushing together, looking at you from under her eyelashes.

“There you go, kitten,” she murmured.

“Thanks.”

You looked down into the cup, steam rising from the surface of the steeping tea. Your fingers fiddled with the string of the teabag. Her hand landed on your thigh, startling you.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” she said.

“I don’t know what I’m going here,” you said, dragging your eyes up to her.

“Do you not want to be here?” she asked.

“No, no I do,” you said, rushing through the words, “it’s just…”

Her hands were gentle as they took the cup from your hands, placing it down beside hers. You could only watch as she swung her leg over yours, settling herself in your lap. Both hands cupped your cheeks, thumb stroking along your cheekbone.

“Agatha,” you whispered.

“Yes, pet?” she asked.

“I want you,” you confessed.

“I know.”

Her lips pressed against yours, scorching as she consumed your very soul. Your hands hovered above her waist, scared that to touch her was to break the moment, that it would make her come to her senses. She kissed you deeper, nails digging into the skin of your cheeks as she tipped your head back. Her tongue swept into your mouth. She was so warm when your hands made contact with her body.

She moaned into your mouth, filthy and hot, making you claw at her. She tasted of the burnt sugar of the creme brûlée and the wine you’d split with her. She kissed deeper still, stealing your breath. You tugged at her shirt, pulling it out of the waistband of her pants. Shoving your hands up, you felt the soft skin of her bare back against your palms, your fingertips, wanting to feel every inch of her.

Her hands slipped into your hair, shoving it out of the way, tugging on it in a way that had you mewling into her mouth. You felt her grin against your lips before she lent back, staring down at you. Her eyes had darkened, her lips kiss swollen, cheeks flushed.

“Do you want to stop?” she asked.

You shook your head before surging up to capture her lips in another kiss. Her fingers tightened in your hair and she made a small noise as your nails ran down her spine. You felt out of control, wanting more from her, the way you always did. There was something about her that drove you crazy, that had always driven you crazy. Even before you’d met her she’d consumed you.

She sat back again, hands slipping from your hair. You watched as her hands crossed over her body, slowly peeling her shirt off her body. You were dumbstruck, watching her with wide eyes and heaving breath. She flung the shirt aside, shaking her hair back from her face.

“Are you going to touch me, pet?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed out.

Your hands slid around her ribcage, feeling the way her skin moved as she inhaled. She was so warm against your palms, real and there with you. You were slow as you trailed your fingers up, brushing the underside of one cloth covered breast. Your eyes darted up to her face, finding her watching you instead of your hands.

“Go on,” she encouraged.

You cupped them, feeling the weight of them in your hands. Leaning forward, your lips brushed over the curve of one then the other, vulnerable skin soft. Your tongue dragged over it, tasting her. She made a small noise, a rumbling in her chest, hands coming up to curl around the back your neck. She pressed you closer.

Reaching around, you released her from her bra, tugging the straps down her arm. Your mouth was on her again, exploring, until your lips wrapped around a nipple. The noise she made was one of approval, back arching towards your mouth. When you sucked, gentle at first, testing the waters, she pressed you closer again. You wanted to please her so badly.

With your hand, you rolled the other nipple between thumb and forefinger. Your name sounded so sweet on her lips, urging you to continue. Her soft sighs and the way her hips rolled against you only made you want more. You wanted to worship at the alter of her body, to take communion from between her legs, to whisper your confessions into her skin. You wanted to drown in her.

Fingers tilted your chin up, your mouth popping free with an indecent noise. She chuckled, pressing her lips to yours again, teeth sinking in to your lower lip until you tasted the coppery tang of blood. You whined, surprised at how much you enjoyed the sensation of the pain mixed with the pleasure.

You made a pained noise as she climbed off your lap, standing half naked in front of you. Your fingertips skated over her skin. Without a word, she pulled you up off the couch and tugged you towards the stairs. You followed, willing to go wherever she wanted, as long as you could keep touching her.

She paused halfway up, turning to grasp your face in her hands, kissing you again like she couldn’t stop herself. You whimpered into her mouth, hands on her bare waist. She dragged you the rest of the way up, pinning you to the wall at the top of the stairs. You groaned, pressing her closer, wanting her everywhere. One leg slotted between yours and the noise you made would have been embarrassing if you weren’t so lost in her. Her thigh pressed against you, just enough pressure to have you grinding down, seeking out more.

“So needy, pet,” she murmured against your lips.

“Want you,” you managed to choke out before her tongue was in your mouth again and you were rolling your hips against her thigh.

“When I fuck you, it won’t be against the wall,” she said.

She tugged you further down the hall, slamming open a door to what you hoped would be your final destination. Her lips were on yours again, possessing you, guiding you where she wanted you. She paused, just long enough to tear your t-shirt from your body, flinging it aside.

Her lips trailed down your neck, latching on at your pulse point. You whined, tipping your head back to give her more access. You felt on fire. Her hands were skating over your bare skin, nails dragging in a delicious way, making you gasp out her name in a plea for more.

Rather than give in and give you instant gratification, she took her time with you. Her hands were slow but sure as she peeled your clothes from your body. It was the same level of precision she used in her work, getting exactly what she wanted. Only this time, you were the thing she wanted.

When she lowered you onto the bed, you were bare before her. Your usual self consciousness was washed away in the tide of your longing for her. Her eyes swept over you, lingering, taking their time to drink you in in your entirety. Her fingers played with your nipples, watching with an academic interest as you arched up, your small whines doing nothing to spur her on.

Holding your eyes, she pressed kisses to your skin, soft and slow, making her way down your body, lingering the closer she got to the apex of your thighs. You trembled, fingers clenching in the comforter.

“You keep your hands right there, pet,” she said, staring up your body.

You nodded, willing to agree to anything she asked of you in that moment.

“Good girl,” she said before her lips pressed to the crease where your hip met your thigh. You inhaled sharply and she grinned. Her teeth sunk in, leaving a dark bruise on your skin as she sucked on it.

She hovered for a moment, her breath ghosting over where you wanted her the most. You pulsed, suspended in the moment before her mouth made contact with you. Her hands curled around your thighs, holding you open for her as her tongue ran through your folds. You cried out, hips bucking up into her mouth.

She chuckled, the vibrations going through you in a way that made you feel like you were being undone. Her tongue teased you again before pressing against your bundle of nerves. You whined, fingers clenching, her name a prayer on your lips. She pinned your hips to the bed, giving your clit a harsh suck. The feeling ricocheted through you, fire curling in your veins, your muscles tightening.

She feasted on you. Relentless, unforgiving, refusing to give you a chance to breathe. She was like a woman possessed, singular in her intent, putting everything into her goal. She was taking you apart, slowly and surely, and all you could hope was that she’d put you back together again when she was done.

Her fingers slid inside of you, so easily it would be embarrassing under other circumstances. They were slow at first, teasing and never giving you quite enough. But then she curled them, pressing into the special place no one but you had managed to find. Your legs trembled.

“I’m so close,” you whimpered.

“No you don’t, pet,” she said, “you don’t come until I say so.”

“But-“ you tried to argue.

“You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?” she asked, cutting you off, thumb running in slow circles over your clit.

“Yes,” you replied, whiney and desperate.

“Then don’t you dare come without my permission,” she said, face lowering back to your throbbing core.

Her tongue was back on your clit as her fingers continued to stroke inside of you. You trembled, shaking, trying so hard to stave off your oncoming orgasm. Tears pricked in your eyes, fingers clenching tightly on the hold you had on the sheets until it hurt. She kept going, ruthless in what she wanted. She had complete control over you.

It was so close, you could practically taste it. You were straining, doing everything you could not to tip over the edge. She was a master of your body, able to play it to perfection. Her tongue kept dragging over your clit, sucking on it, fingers twisting and curling, dragging out every iota of pleasure your body held.

“Agatha,” you sobbed, “please.”

Blue eyes stared up at you, dark and dangerous.

“Please,” you begged.

Her fingers gave another slow stroke. You whimpered, your entire body on fire, wound tight as you did what you were told. You always did what she told you to do.

“Go on, pet,” she said, “keep your eyes on me and you can come.”

You let out a relieved breath. When you let yourself go, the wave of pleasure crashed into you, wave after wave. She held your gaze the entire time, drinking in the way pleasure contorted your body. The way you cried out her name felt holy, a cry of worship as you stared into her eyes.

When she drew back, she held her hand up, tongue running up her fingers. You reached out, grasping her wrist. She let you pull her hand towards you, your lips sliding down her fingers, lapping your arousal from her skin. Her eyes smouldered as she watched you, a pleased smirk on her lips.

“You are a good girl, aren’t you pet,” she murmured, gently stroking you hair with her other hand. The pulse of pleasure that went through you was bright and intense. You liked being her good girl.

Your tongue swirled over each digit, cleaning her up as best you could. A flicker of fondness passed over her face before she pulled it away from you. Leaning forward, her lips pressed against yours, rough and intense, passionate in ways you hadn’t experienced with anyone else. It made you feel wanted, desired, the way you always felt wanted with her. After all, she’d agreed to take you on for your senior thesis when she so rarely took people on.

“Alright, kitten,” she whispered against your lips, “let’s see how many times I can make you come tonight before you beg me to stop.”

When you awoke in the morning, deliciously sore and definitely sated, you rolled over in the large bed, hands reaching for the warm body you were expecting to find beside you. All you found was cool sheets. Squinting your eyes open, the light was still kept at bay from the drawn curtains, but the room was empty of another person. You sat up, rumpled and unsure.

You slipped out of the bed, tugging your clothes back on but your feet bare. You were slow as you eased the door open, padding out onto the landing you’d paid no attention to the night before. On silent feet, you descended to the lower level of the house, following the sound you could just hear.

Agatha was in the kitchen, her back to you, encased in a flowing silk robe. You blinked, pausing as you drank her in. Her hair, wild and out of control, long fingers tapping on the counter, legs bare where they peeked out the bottom of the robe. She was breathtaking in the morning light.

“You’re staring, kitten,” she said, voice still rough from sleep.

“Sorry,” you said, slipping into the kitchen proper.

She turned her head, glancing at you over her shoulder. Her eyebrows drew together and the corner of her lips turned down.

“Why are you dressed?” she asked, stepping away from the counter, “were you planning on sneaking out in the morning?”

“No, I… I wasn’t sure what was appropriate,” you said.

“Please tell me this wasn’t your first time,” she said.

“Of course not,” you said, “although I suppose it is my first time with my professor,”

She hummed but didn’t give you more of an answer. Anxiety was seeping into your body now.

“I thought you might want me to leave.”

Her eyes snapped back to you, displeasure painting her features.

“Come here.”

You didn’t move.

“I’m not going to ask again, pet,” she said, voice hardened, “come. Here.”

On soft feet you approached her. With sure hands she caught you, fingers pressing into your hips as she held you tightly. Your eyes darted around her face before dragging down. Bare skin met your eyes until the shadow of the robe obscured her from your vision. She was naked under the robe and there was still a part of you that wanted to unwrap her like a present.

“Do you want to leave?” she asked, gaining your attention again.

Your eyes snapped up to hers and you shook your head.

“I thought I’d made it obvious that the only place I want you is with me,” she said, “the only person I want you thinking about is me. The only person I want touching you is me.”

You trembled.

“Do you want that too, kitten?” she asked, drawing closer.

“Yes,” you breathed out.

“Then you’re mine, pet,” she said, her nose skimming along the curve of your jaw.

Her hand squeezed your hips and her lips pressed to the vulnerable skin behind your jaw before she pulled away. Your breath caught and you felt lightheaded. You ached to pull her back to you, to lose yourself in the feeling of her body and her skin and her mouth. Would you ever stop feeling this way with her? You didn’t think so.

“Now, I’ve been thinking. I’ve been pushing you too hard lately. You can have the weekend off,” she said.

“Oh.” You were still trembling from the brush of her lips and her words, “thanks.”

“So you won’t be needing those clothes,” she said, flippant and dismissive, “you certainly won’t be in them long.”

You flushed, cheeks heating. There was a twist to her lips, amusement twinkling in her eyes. You slipped closer to her again, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Whatever you want, Agatha,” you whispered.

“All I want is you, pet,” she replied.

Turns out, all you wanted was her too.

[rosiereveries]

This is part two of ex - boyfriend´s dad John Price x reader

TW: age gap (John is in his late 40s and reader is in her early 20s), reader is in relationship with her ex-boyfriend´s dad, breeding, unprotected sex, reader is a female

Part one

John made it very clear from the biggening that he will not hide the fact that you were sleeping together. After the night you spend together at the party, he drove you home, and asked for your number. You didn’t think that he will actually call or text you. But when you walked the stairs to your apartment, you already had a message from him, that said text me when you get to your flat, so I know you’re okay.  You texted for a while and when he promised you, that he is looking for more than just some random one-night stand, you knew what you had to do.

The next morning when you woke up, you immediately texted your boyfriend telling him that you need to speak with him. After he told you that his schedule for this week was full (it was Tuesday) you knew you were making the right decision. You wanted to finish the relationship face to face, you were not a coward, and you were not afraid to break that boy’s heart. But he left you no choice. So, you just replied that he doesn’t have to bother, that you’re breaking up with him. He didn’t respond.

John’s situation was a little bit more complicated, he couldn’t just divorce his wife, yes, they signed a prenup when they got married (John was already rich), but the process of the whole divorce was time consuming and exhausting. He knew that his wife would not cooperate. But he was not a young foolish boy, who would hide his girlfriend. If he wanted to have a relationship with you, he would. John knew that his wife also had affairs, and he didn’t feel obligated to let her know about you.

So, when after some time of you hooking up, he invited you to his house for a weekend you agreed. You expected to be just with him, and you were quite excited. What you didn’t expect was when your now ex-boyfriend opened the door, asking if you came to see him. Of course, he ignored your messages, and he thought that you were still dating.

That’s how John finds you. Talking with his son, panic in your eyes realising that his whole family is home. But John doesn’t mind. He comes to you, with one hand he squeezes your ass and with the other one he holds your neck, and he kisses you, deeply and passionately. He needs to show his son, that you are his know, that he had his shot, and he fucked it up. When your ex starts to shout at you, for being a whore and sleeping with his dad, John just calmly says to him that this is his house, and if he doesn’t like what he sees, he can leave.

John’s wife reaction is pretty much the same. She tells you that John had many women over the time of their marriage, and none of them lasted longer than a few weeks. She tells you that John is maybe fucking you right now but she is still his wife. When John tells her that he is actively working with his lawyer on changing that she has a full meltdown and leaves.

When you are finally alone with John he apologizes to you. He says how sorry he is that you had to hear these things, but he wants you here now and he can’t wait any longer. He tells you sweet nothing and he kisses your neck repeating how good you are for him and how he is so grateful that he met you. When he starts to slowly touch you, creasing your breasts through your bra and gently biting your neck, you tell him that you can’t have sex with him when you know that his son, your ex, is here.

But that doesn’t stop him, he tells you that he wants to show him how good he can make you feel. In some twisted way you start to think about this as your revenge against your ex. John is right, if he doesn’t want to hear you fucking, he can leave. So, you tell John that he can continue. John bends you against the kitchen table, not waiting any longer and he starts to pull down your panties.

He tells you how long he’s been imagining fucking you here, rough and dirty and how hard it makes him. John wants to come inside you again and again. He pushes his dick into you fast, in one swift motion and you can feel him stretching you. Even though you slept with John more times that you can actually count, it is still a stretch for you. He starts to fuck you hard, and you can fell his dick bruising your cervix. When he pulls up your shirt and starts to play with your nipples you’re moans get louder. You tried to be quieter, but John knows how to make you sing for him. When you hear sounds on the upper floor you just hope that John’s son won’t come down. It is one thing to let him hear you and the other to let him actually see how his dad fucks you.

One of Johns hands slip between your tights, and he starts to rub your clit telling you to come on his cock now. You cum at the same time as John, his load spilling inside of you and your pussy milking him. After he pulls his cock out, he pulls up your panties, he gives you a smack on your ass, and he asks you if you want a tour of his home.

Then he fucks you in the shower you take together. He presses you against the glass, pounding into you like a horny teenager who can´t stop thinking about sex. Your next round is in his bed, late at night when he makes you ride him until your legs hurt. When you wake up the next morning John is already between your legs sucking and licking your clit, telling you how pretty your moans sound when you are asleep. Then, when you’re making breakfast, he asks you to return the favour, so you end up on your knees sucking his cock until he cums in your mouth.

By the end of the weekend John’s son is gone, he moves in with his friend and you’re in the house alone. Now John can fuck you whenever and wherever he wants. You do it the hot tub, in the garden and on the balcony. Every night you go to sleep with Johns cum in your pussy and you start to get worried. You take your birth control pills every day, but you’re not sure if they will work with this amount of fucking. You just hope and pray that you will not end up pregnant with John’s child, even though that is exactly what he wants. After all he needs to find a new wife and you’re the perfect candidate.

Masterlist