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millerscoffee · 1 year

Note

Hello!! 🤍 I was wondering if you could write something where Joel is the reader’s college professor, and then Prof. Miller INSISTS that reader comes over to his home for tutoring assistance, (because of failed tests or bad essays), and then finally coaxes her into letting him have his way with her.

hi nonnie! here it is! i hope you enjoy 💖

extra credit

6.2k | joel miller x afab!reader (professor!joel au)

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: professor!joel au, age gap (joel is 46, reader is 21), soft!dom joel, pining, consensual sex, pet names (darlin', doll, baby), oral (f receiving), face riding, fingering, piv (unprotected, wrap it folks), squirting, joel spitting over the reader's ass for 0.5 seconds (OOPS IDK???), a pretty dress with easy access, hints of after care, spoiler: honestly prof. miller could've told reader to just do the paper in a different format but – that's the point 🤭

When you picked your major, English was a necessary credit needed to achieve your goals. It wasn’t your strong suit, but you weren’t one to quit just because you were bad at it. So far you were coasting through, getting a mix of good and bad grades in your English Lit class when the last essay before finals was presented.

Among the crowd in Professor Miller’s lecture hall, you typically sat in the front. He hands out papers, hovering by your desk. Giving you a look of disapproval, he places the grade face down. You peel the pages in anticipation, a sense of dread falling over you when you scan the big, red mark of failings. “Shit,” you say to yourself. That was it. That was the grade that was the defining factor of whether or not you had to retake this course. You use the side of your hand to wipe sneaky tears in falling. You failed. Doing your best to keep it together, you’re not sure you even heard the rest of the lecture from the possibilities running through your mind. What were you to do? How would you recover?

Class was over before you knew it. The sounds of bags zipping and feet stepping, you stayed seated until you were able to look over to Professor Miller. Dressed in black slacks, a brown button-up with leather shoes. His hair was slick, the slightest bit of salt and pepper patched at his sideburns. He looked like he had it all figured out, and that struck a nerve. A feeling of jealousy that he knew what he was doing, and you obviously did not.

Professor Miller calls your name when the class is emptied, and you sniffle, standing up to straighten your skirt. Your manicured nails pick up your essay as you walk over in an attempt to hand it to him. “I guess you want this back,” you hold your full bottom lip between your teeth.

“Did you read the material?” Professor Miller inquires, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His voice is so dark and honied in comparison to his scowl. Proving not to judge a book by its cover. The irony.

“Well, I did, but… I struggle with this stuff. Predicates and imagery? I’d rather be learning about biology. But I need this course, you know. And I…,” you swallow hard. God, the last thing you want is to embarrass yourself in front of your teacher. He doesn’t know you, out of the hundreds of people he teaches – how could he possibly even remember your name?

“Hey,” Professor Miller takes his glasses off, putting them on the table. He looks as concerned as you are over it and crosses his arms. Keeps his distance. “It happens, you know. There are things we can do to accommodate. You’re very bright, I’d hate to see you fail. You have options. I can’t let you rewrite the paper, but I could tutor you for your final. Another option is getting a student tutor, but it’s rare. You know the workload of this university. Not a lot of people are willing to sacrifice their precious time.”

“And you are?” You look up at him with grateful, bright eyes and he loves it. The praise just from your stare alone is cause for him to clear his throat.

“Listen, for someone like you, I believe it is important to help. You just need a little more time understanding what you’re doing, is all. I’m not in my office for the rest of the weekend, though. You’d have to come by my house…,” he watches those pretty eyes widen again, and that makes a smirk fall over his greying features, “if that’s okay, of course. If it’s not, we could work something else out.”

You think about it. You’ve never had a teacher invite you over, much less someone who looked the way he did. Though, that was neither here nor there. His lips formed words you couldn’t even pay attention half the time in hearing. Maybe that was part of the reason why you were failing in the first place. But you needed to pass, and if he could help you – and was so kind enough to do it in the first place, you should jump at the first opportunity.

“Okay. Is there a particular time you’d like me to be there?”

“Are you busy tonight?”

What the fuck. That makes your heart race. Tonight? Tonight?! Ton–

“Tonight… tonight is good.” How did you even form the words?

“Perfect,” he started, bending down to write his address on a sticky note – his cologne wafts in your direction, and you clamp your legs shut reflexively. “Here’s my address. 7 o’clock.”

“Seven. Okay… thank you, Professor Miller.”

“Please, call me Joel.” His teeth gleamed in a smile, and his personality shined through it.

A personality you didn’t get to see too often from your position behind a desk.

Shit.

---

According to your phone, he didn’t live very far from campus, and you were able to walk to his house without breaking too much of a sweat. You decided on a black dress, although it was a casual one, that paired nicely with your sneakers. It had buttons down the front with a relaxed collar. Your bag slung over your shoulder when you knocked on his door, a nervousness fluttering in your stomach. It was such a weird thing, meeting your professor in his home. Much less having him request you call him by his first name.

Your knees all but buckled when you saw him on the other side of the door.

He looks… young in his jeans. His t-shirt stretched over the broadness of his shoulders, but it’s still loose enough that it doesn’t look ill-fitted. His stomach, soft at the bottom. You flash him a smile, but internally you’re reeling over how casual he looks. You’d never seen him like this, not even during those school meetings that were informal.

“Hey, you,” he’s bright, too. Charismatic as he invites you into his home. Takes your bag, lets you take your shoes off until you’re in your socks. His words hit your stomach, how easy it is for him to talk to you like you’re the brightest sunflower. What’d you even do to deserve it?

“Hi, Prof– uh, Joel,” you titter, taking in the curated decor of his home. It was sophisticated, yet a little cheesy at the same time. His alumni cover his walls and a mix of pictures. Some with a couple of young girls you assumed were his children. He has children, you swallow.

“Wasn’t too hard to find this place, right? When I moved here, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t too far – not much of a mornin’ person,” Joel laughs and you do, too. Fuck, this feels so easy. But it’s nothing – it’s nothing.

What you don’t pick up on right away is his open body language. He places your bag on his couch and you follow him like a puppy – he likes that. You look so soft under the sienna hue of his lights, your hair falling into place naturally. Plump and ripe for the taking. Of course, he meant it when he said he’d tutor you, but the air got thick the moment the door was shut behind the two of you. What were you doing to him?

Joel’s large frame walks over to his bar cart, turning on his heel to face you, “Interested?”

“Huh?” You blink and he laughs again at your deer caught in the headlights expression. You’re cute.

“Do you drink?”

“Oh, uh… water would be nice.”

“Water it is,” Joel’s pleasant, gesturing his hand for you to follow him. And you do – that puppy he was coming to know, right to his kitchen. You study the marble countertops, the farmhouse style kitchen sink.

“So, tutoring,” he starts, taking a glass from the cupboard, he fills it with filtered water before handing it to you – you thank him with a nod, “I was thinking we could look at your paper, and then go over how to fix things in the future?” When you take the water from him, your fingers graze. The first sign of contact, your head continues to nod unthinkingly, but all that scorches your mind is how his skin feels.

“That sounds good,” you overcompensate, shoving the ideas from your mind. He was your teacher, and it was easy to get back into the mode of why you were here.

Joel’s expression doesn’t change much, still the same grin with hooded eyes and wrinkles at his forehead. The two lines between his brow. “Alright, well I have it on the coffee table. Let’s get settled on the couch, and we’ll get started, okay?”

So you agree. You take your glass of water and follow him back to the couch where everything was set up – your paper, his laptop. All of the correction marks in your face as you sit down. You take another sip of water before placing it down on the coaster. You dread it, you really do. Going over your failures? You scrunch your nose up to yourself, but Joel notices when you’re both settled on the cushions.

“You know, Voltaire said, ‘perfect is the enemy of good’,” Joel bends his knee on the couch, thigh pressing into the cushion to turn to you and it causes the couch to shift. The quote makes you giggle a little to yourself, and you shake your head. “What?” His eyebrow quirks in curiosity.

“Voltaire also popularised the story of Newton’s apple, doesn’t make it true.”

“Huh…,” Joel trailed off, keeping his eye on you – his tongue skating over his bottom lip in thought. You were so quick all he could really do was laugh, and that made your shoulders relax. Makes you feel more in control and comfortable to laugh at yourself. “You got an answer for everything?”

“Not everything. See this,” you pick up your paper, thumbing over the ink of corrections the man on the couch made and you shrug, “I don’t really understand why this got marked wrong.” Joel’s gaze flashes over your mouth when your teeth press into the plushness of your bottom lip – he should be given some damn award for having so much self control around you.

“Wrong format. This citation works for your research papers, right?” He nods with you before leaning in closer, that damn cologne coming back in full force just like earlier in the day. You all but freeze when his warm touch graces you again – this time, fingers tracing over where you’re holding the paper. “Oh,” your voice is soft, a bit of disappointment pangs at your ribs. You were so busy you didn’t even realise that was the majority of the issues you had.

“So… it’s not really what I wrote, it’s how I wrote it? You asked if I read the material?”

“Exactly. If you read the syllabus, you’d see the required format. Listen, there are some ways for extra credit, I do think this is salvageable.”

You suddenly feel silly.

You did all that work, Professor Miller was kind enough to let you into his home, and it was all for some redundant formatting. An open palm curls over your chin as you look at the paper in deep contemplation.

“I really fucked up,” you say, hushed in the space.

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” you manage an exhale of amusement at the sound of your teacher curse. You shift your gaze to look at him. The curls at the nape of his neck, the way his t-shirt dropped enough so you could see his neck, his chest. The freckles that splayed over his aged skin. “You just needed someone to tell you what to do.”

That was the loaded statement. And a pointed one, it seems. Someone to tell you what to do. And Joel wanted to be that person? Your eyebrows raise for a flash, thumbing over the paper.

“That would be too easy,” you scratch at your neck idly before going for the glass of water, sipping in contemplation. “...I mean, I should’ve known better.”

Joel takes the glass from you, offering himself a sip of your water and it stuns you speechless, doing your best not to convey it. Maybe he did that just because this was his house. That must’ve been it. He was comfortable, but goddamn – the eye contact he gave you when he swallowed the liquid.

It felt intentional.

He watches your features, vague as they were, in what to do next. He honestly wasn’t so sure what he was doing either. What? I know how to give you extra credit, sweetheart. Too forward, too boastful, too… cheap. You deserved better than that. He saw you in class, how hard you were on yourself. He talked to your other teachers, how well you were doing in your other classes. He felt for you. And he was a bit lost in your eyes. You were all too pretty, too brilliant to be dimmed down to a fuck for extra credit. Joel could see that. He wasn’t even sure what he was thinking, you had him distracted. You threw him off without even trying. The plight within him grew stronger as he handed back the glass.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Joel straightens up, his hand cups over your forearm in a way that’s understanding, but also makes goosebumps rise. You look down to see where you connect and he pulls away slightly. “Sorry, I–,” “No, it’s okay,” you agree, “It’s okay. You’re right.”

“It’s just, I see hundreds of bright, beautiful young people every year, but none of them have stood out to me like you.” He can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. The candor, the nerve. A filthy old man, that’s all he was in the eyes of someone as sweet and innocent as you were. Even if you happened to be experienced – god, what was he thinking?!

Joel clears his throat, shifting a bit in his seat, but he sees the way your lips part, but your eyes don’t show an ounce of shock or distain. They look soft, and… willing. You know that is because the pull at your core feels too strong to think of anything else. You look down at his left hand, making sure you’re not dreaming. He’s not married? You’d casually look at his hands from time to time during class and ignored the ache it gave you, but this? So close? Backed by the glow of his house? It was so different from the boys you were used to. In their dorms or disgusting apartments. It smelled as nice as it looked. You realise you’re not speaking, but the way you lean into him says more than you really ever could.

“I don’t know what to say,” shyly, you touch your knuckles to your cheek, “you should teach the guys that go here how to chat with someone.”

It’s a mutter, but not to yourself. You drink one more mouthful of what you were offered before putting it back on the coaster. Honestly, any distraction was welcome to defer from the ever-present density in the room.

“Those guys don’t know what they’re talkin’ about anyway. I know I didn’t at that age.”

There. The topic right in front of both of your faces.

“How old at you, anyway?” You inquire, thumb mindlessly circling over your knee. Joel tracks it, licking over his lips as he answers. “Forty-six. You?”

“Twenty-one.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

There’s this standstill, as if you’re both in the air together looking at each other in slow motion. How will this land? What are you both even doing here like this?

“I’m sure your boyfriend takes good care of you,” Joel’s eyes, round and bright brown, get lost in yours – the way your breath hitches, the shift of your thighs on his sofa. He wondered what you tasted like, what sounds you make when these boys who don’t know what they’re doing with their tongue attempt to eat you out. Do you fake it? Do you give it to them straight? Neither of you had a drink from that bar cart in the corner of the room, but somehow you’ve become closer – and more intoxicated.

“Don’t have one,” you respond softly, orbs flickering to the set of plush lips that grow more red the longer you let the tension build, “what about you? N-no partner?”

Your attempt in confidence wavering the longer he stares at you. It’s like staring back into the sun and you have your brows knit together until the tug of muscle makes your forehead hurt – smoothing them apart with the twitch of muscle fibers.

“No partner,” Joel’s hand settles on your thigh and you can’t hold it back; you gasp. But you do something he doesn’t anticipate, or well, you don’t do something: you don’t pull away.

How did you two get to the topic, anyhow?

How did you end up straddling his lap, for that matter?

It’s within six eager seconds that his hand, hot and rough, touches your soft skin, and you – green, you – fervent, throw all inhibitions aside and lunge. It’s more fluid than you realise, and his hands (both now) grip the backs of your bare thighs and you whimper at the sensation of him squeezing you. Your wetness against your cotton panties grows from the kneading alone. No, absolutely not, the boys back in the dorms didn’t know how to do this.

It takes an even shorter time for your mouths to meet. He’s first to kiss, and he tastes like coffee and his dinner, and the faintness of a cigarette – maybe early in the day? You couldn’t tell, your head was swimming too deep in now to come back from.

And although his calloused fingers roll patterns into your soft skin, he’s just as willing. Just as desireful and you can feel it beg to be set free at the seam of his jeans. His tongue skirts against yours, hips rolling up the second yours tempt to roll down; causing you both to moan in each other’s mouths.

It gets feverish after that. All teeth, tongue, bite.

You don’t want to stop, you don’t want to take a moment to breathe because fuck, that could stop things. That could make him realise what is happening.

But that only is another item to your list of naivety.

Because Joel, he’s ready. His masculine arms wrap around your frame to lift you up just enough so he can get out of his fucking jeans that he now regrets wearing. Shoulda been wearin’ sweats, but it’s effortless… eventually. He hurriedly pushes the thick fabric down until they hit at his thighs and you’re pushed down onto his boxers that – holy fucking shit – leave nothing to the imagination. “Joel, J-,” you pant between kisses, fingernails digging into the base of his neck, he pauses. Pulls away, gets a good look at your face.

“Y’want this?” And goddamn, you can’t see yourself, but you imagine you look just as fucked out as he does. On the cusp of every little fantasy he’s had about you from the moment you sat down behind that desk.

“I want this,” you repeat. You weren’t sure exactly when the nerves subsided, maybe because all of the blood is now rushed at the apex of your thighs, but you mean it.

You want this. You want Professor Miller.

“You got me,” his breath dances over your lips before guiding you back a bit, “here… I’m going to lie back, I want you to– I’ll show you.” Your lips quirk up at the fact he’s so flushed he can’t even finish his sentence.

But that soon turns to you flushing when you realise his request. “I – what?”

“No?” Joel sits up on his elbows, looking over to you and you’re worried you’ve killed the mood. It’s just, straddling his face? Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“I’ve never done that… What if it’s bad?” His eyes, reassuring, but a deep shade of black now beckons you.

“Darlin’, I think you’ll be a natural. But I can teach you, if that’s what you want.”

You swallow, straddling his knees somewhere at the bottom of the couch and you think about it.

Joel, on the other hand, was living in a fantasy of teaching you things in and out of school. Showing you how to make yourself feel good on his mouth – make you forget all about the essay that caused you grief today. He leans over, pushing it under the couch out of view for good measure.

“Okay,” you agree, though nerves still flood you. “Okay, you wanna take your panties off?” You lick your lips at that, biting back another whimper that brought you to this predicament in the first place. And you did – you wanted nothing more than to slip your underwear off and give into your pleasures. His voice was deep, graveled with the prospect of him fucking you senseless on his couch and who were you to deny him that?

Who were you to deny yourself that, more importantly.

“Yeah,” doing as you say, you slip off your lace-trimmed undies and abandon them somewhere on your Professor’s floor. “Fuck,” you mutter. This was naughty.

“Already so good for me,” you weren’t even sure that Joel’s voice could get deeper, or more inviting, but it does. You bite your lip and oblige when he pats his chest. Going over to him, you straddle just above his broad shoulders, and he’s almost out of view with him like this – somehow making it easier to just feel what he could do to you.

Joel on the other hand? All he can do is see the outline of your glistening core from the shadowed tent you’ve made of your dress and his groans are muffled slightly from the fabric, “Fuckin’ Christ,” he wants to devour you, but he takes his time instead.

Peppers kisses along your thighs that make you claw the armrest, causes you shiver at the contact and you can’t believe this is happening. “J-Joel,” you hesitate, but his hands are wrapped around your hips now, fingers digging into the breadth of your ass.

“Sit.” Joel commands.

Oh, fuck.

You’re almost certain you’ll break skin at your lips from biting down so hard, but you do as you’re told. Anchoring down, it’s subtle at first – the brushing of his facial hair against your folds, his chin prying you apart. Then, it’s incredibly palpable. His lips are the first thing you feel as they press and kiss over your middle and as you shudder it only makes your muscles sink deeper on him. You’re the first to moan, and then Joel, and his mouth is open when he invites you inside it.

“Oh, my god,” thighs shaking, Joel flattens his tongue under the hood of your clit, a body part you were certain hadn’t been touched by anyone else but yourself. There was no time to compare, the white hot pleasure coursed through your veins and he took his time with it, too. Made sure he was teasing you, his tongue dipping inside your entrance, as sloppy as it felt. “Hmmn,” you can’t speak, forearms resting on the armrest now as your head hangs between your shoulders and his fingers make pliable work of your asscheeks. Pushing you down, using your hips to move back and forth against his mouth – like he’s using you while you use him.

The air is thick under your dress, sticky and humid, as Joel swirls this tip of his devilish tongue in the most astonishing circles you’ve ever experienced, and you know it’s because he has more experience than you do. Has so much to teach you, if you let him. Your mouth hangs open as you try to inhale, but it’s just too much. Especially with the way he thumbs into your stomach, then your pubic bone – lifting it just slightly to expose your clit to him. An angle, not even you have found yourself.

It almost feels like too much. It’s intentional, the way his tongue flicks over that bundle of nerves right at the top of your cunt. Delicious, deliberate. Two fingers greet your entrance and it startles you, the way he’s rubbing your hole with his two fingers in slow circles before pressing them where you want them most.

“Tell me you want it,” you hear, muffled and fucked, and you shiver at the slightest bit of lack of contact.

“I want it, I want your fingers – please!”

And that seems to send him over the edge of how much he’s willing to hold back because he’s exactly where he was. Mouth on your clit, but fingers skillfully pressing inside of you and you don’t know how long you’ll last. Not with the pads of his fingers tapping in the perfect tempo against the ridged spot inside you.

That’s when a weird sensation comes over you. A pressure, you felt like you had to pee and your insides pulled in more trying to keep it all contained. “I–,” you start, but it happens so suddenly. Your orgasm rushes through you, convulsing and almost falling over the edge of the couch, you dig your fingernails into the upholstery. Your eyes roll back, and fuck, so are your hips. Unable to stop yourself using Joel’s mouth to keep you exactly right there. Pleasure pricks your skin, it feels like every cell is ignited – but you jump when you feel a rush of fluid come out of you. The pressure rebounding out, then rippling pleasure back inside you. Joel fucks you with his tongue and fingers until he feels you calm down.

“W-what, what… did I do?” You pant, and Joel is groaning, too. He lifts your hips to get lungfuls of oxygen, so dizzy on you and you notice how soaked his pair of fingers feel on your skin. Sits you down on his chest and you can see his face finally. Can see his mouth parting, gasping as his eyes are hooded and so gone. Curls stick to his forehead, his shirt a dampened colour at the collar. You blush heavily, embarrassed because you aren’t even sure what that was. Did he hate that, was that weird?

“C’mere,” he growls with gritted teeth and sits up, the tables turning instantly. Joel’s stripping his shirt off, kicking every last bit of the bottom half he had on to be abandoned on the floor. His fingers remove the buttons, but he can’t really get them – those fingers too big for the buttons. “Here,” you whisper, an intense feeling of lust falling over any self-conscious self talk you had. You undo the top of your dress one button at a time until your breasts are released from your bra – you moan when he has no problem spilling your tits from the satin, nipples in stiff peaks from your orgasm. And everything else.

“You know what you did?” Joel asks, taking both of your nipples between his fingers from each hand. You moan, lifting your hips and he bites his lip when he sees your cunt front under your dress. “What was it?” You ask, curiously. Innocently.

“You squirted f’me, baby,” he slurs, thumbing over your clit now as he gets a good look at you and he’s drunk on you. His cock throbbing against your thigh, he taps it against your skin before realising what he needed.

“Fuck,” Joel mutters and you can tell by the tone it’s not just at your appearance. “What is it?” You inquire, eyebrows knit.

“Gotta get a condom,” you hear him mutter, getting onto one foot and you stop him. “No. No. I want to feel you. It’s okay, I don’t get pregnant–” well that sentence isn’t exactly how you mean for it to come out, but your mind is mush, your body feels boneless underneath him, and he chuckles at that. At how gone your brain is. Here he was, thinking he was the only one. “Okay, okay, darlin’. I believe ya.”

And really, maybe he should be using more discretion. But he can’t get the feeling of you out of his head. You were everywhere. His mouth, his glistening chest and beard. He takes you by the hips then, sitting back to flip you on your hands and knees with your help and you moan at the sensation. Joel looks down at you, groaning of your ass in the air, pushing back for his cock. “Such a needy little thing, now,” it’s as if someone else is talking. This isn’t the Professor Miller you know. This man has layers and you’re first in line to know exactly what that entails.

Joel takes the base of his cock, bobbing it as it throbs alive in his hand and runs through your slick with the head of it. “So fucking wet. Beginning to think you’ve been wanting this for as long as I have.”

You bite a whine and he can see the back of your head nodding as you crane your neck back enough to make eye contact, but his eyes fall down to your ass pressing eagerly on his cock. Doing your best to press him inside yourself.

“Go ahead,” he slaps his cock on your folds and you mewl at the wet sounds coming from it. “Take my cock.”

And take, you do. Joel holds it out for you, keeps it steady and you push back slow on his cock. Clenching around the head and he growls at that. “You dirty thing. This how you fuck all your teachers?” It burns your skin, pushing your face into your arm and you shake your head.

“Words.” He warns.

“Just you! Just you, Joel!”

“Just me,” he parrots, hissing when you shift back and you both twitch and groan when you take him to the hilt of you. It was so thick, stretching you out until you felt split apart from him. “Just me, show me then. Show me how you fuck me.”

You bite into your arm then, choking on a sob as you push your ass back over and over. Your cunt taking him deep like this, it almost feels like too much and not enough at once. Torturously slow against the spongy spot again

It felt so amazing taking him yourself, but it was like an itch you couldn’t scratch on your own. The tapping of his balls against your clit was too far apart in tempo, his cock speared inside you at a pace that didn’t have quite the same leverage as Joel did behind you.

His hands busied themselves on your ass, peeling the muscle apart – pressing his digits to leave bruises and just when you think it’s too much to take, he gives you something else. His spit falling from his lips right to the velvet of your asshole. You shudder and flutter around him when it falls to where you’re connected. Your fingertips grip the other armrest now, cheek resting atop of your hand and you can’t do it yourself anymore. “Fuck me, Joel! Professor Miller, please!”

“Shit – you know where to push, don’t you?” Joel’s wide hands slide up your sides, keeping them locked in place as he pulls your hips to him at first. Using your whole lower body, your head hands doing your best to keep yourself up but you’re so close when he uses you like this. When he picks up the pace and you let your head fall on his throw pillow – your screams of desire are targeted into the plush cushion.

Joel is bound up in amazement behind you. How you feel around him, your gorgeous figure in front of him as he gives you every bit of power he can now. His hips hammering into you, but with the right amount of speed – not too fast, not too slow. The sound of his balls slapping against your clit is faster now, and the difference is what you focus on. The way it sounds. Joel feels you tighten, pulse around his own pulse and he has to say something to you. Has to talk you through it, even if he’s not sure you’ll like it.

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he drapes his body over your back, huffing into your ear as the controlled weight of him pushes your ass down just enough to make your thighs shake. You are soaked, sticky against his abdomen, between your thighs. Over your own stomach. You move your face so you can feel his skin closer against your. His lips staying on your cheekbone, he grunts and nods.

“That’s it, fuckin’ take it. I know you can take it. Those shaky fuckin’ thighs better hold on.”

You feel yourself coil and he is quick to sooth over your hips with his palms.

“Relax, baby. That’s it, that’s good, darlin’. Shh, easy. Do you feel that heat?”

You nod hopelessly, the buildup was so strong you couldn’t do anything but curl your fingers into fists and whimper repeatedly.

“Give into that heat. Come for me, I know you can be so good for me. Good for – fuck – fuck. Good for my cock,” Joel groaning in your ear makes you flutter uncontrollably, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arm around your front, rolling quick circles at the split of your cunt, right at your clit. “Milkin’ my fuckin’ cock like that, don’t stop. Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he grits, and you’re gasping.

Clawing at the pillow, head craning up and back as you come. Mouth gaped, Joel takes advantage – pouring his tongue into it, swirling and drinking you while his cock bottoms into you repeatedly until he can’t take it anymore. You feel too good. Perfect, even.

“Joel!” Your whine is high, as your wet folds take his merciless shoves. “You feel so good, youfeelsogood!” Your lip quivers, jerking in aftershocks that feel a lot like multiple orgasms. You aren’t even sure how you feel, but he knows he has to pull out. So he tells you, rough and pained against your ear. He doesn’t want to any more than you do. But as soon as he does, that reward feels just as sweet.

He exhales roughly through his nose, a popping sound filling the room when he pulls out. Not even needing to touch himself to spill himself over the small of your back.

“Fuck,” he’s out of breath, grunting, and doing his best not to collide into you. You’re still, the nape of your neck dews with sweat and you can feel it stick to your dress instantly.

“Stay there,” Joel pulls away, and you sit up on your elbows now that you’re fully flat and study his frame walk into the kitchen.

The back of him is just as irresistible as the front.

You hum hungrily at the landscape of his back. But you do as you say, you don’t move a muscle. When he comes back, you take note of the splotches of his chest, his neck red and sheened with sweat, too. He’s just as disheveled. The paper towel he comes back with is rough against your lower back, but tickles more than anything else.

Makes you wriggle and laugh.

“What did I say?” He threatens, but his voice is much more smoother and tender. More playful. More like what you’re used to.

“Tickles!”

“You must endure it if you know what’s good for you.” he’s finished enough for you to roll over. You pull your tits back into your bra with another low laugh, but to yourself at how exposed and a mess you’re sure you look on your professor’s couch.

“I think I like that threat.”

“No more,” and that makes your heart drop. He must be able to see the disappointed look on your face, so he rephrases his sentence in an instant. “No more tonight.”

“Maybe I should be teaching you the importance of ambiguity.”

“Next lesson.”

Your heart soars just as fast as it dropped.

---

While you slip on your sneakers, you turn your heel to him – bag in tow. “Listen, I don’t want this to be why I passed.”

“It’s not – it won’t be,” Joel chews up the space between you – his hand pressing against the doorframe that your delicate hand adorns at the knob, fully dressed himself, now. “You will pass by your own volition. I meant it – you are bright. You won’t let anybody take that from you, will you?” You knew that wasn’t a question as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but you still swayed your head ‘no’.

“Not even me.” He whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead before dropping his arm – allowing you to leave. And that’s exactly what he’ll let you believe.

“Especially not you.” You smile, leaning up to kiss his lips – your flavour lingers over his facial hair and tongue. Your panties in his pocket.

“Goodnight, Professor Miller.”

“Goodnight, doll.”

taglist: @cool-iguana – comment to be added!

#bee's requests #professor!joel #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x f!reader #tlou smut #joel miller requests #soft!dom joel #softdom!joel #professor au #professor joel miller au #tlou au #joel miller au #by bee

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kisses4reid · 3 months

Text

understand? pt. 2 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you’re a polyglot translator assigned to work for the bau in a cross-national case, and there’s an officer who’s less than friendly.

genre - angst, fluff, good ending, fem!reader, both of them are awkward nerds, they both dig each other’s intelligence

warnings - mild racism, basic cm file details, so many inaccuracies regarding translating, languages, and crimes, no where do i specify which language r is translating because i don’t want to include wrong translations, please let me know if i need to add anything

w/c - guys idk count the words yourself

a/n - part 2!! if i didn’t add you to the taglist i apologise pookie.

part 1 (must read first!)

Spencer called Morgan and you into a small interrogation room that was being used as a temporary evidence locker. Books and documents were strewn across the room, Spencer had one opened in his hands, one finger dragging down a page.

“What’s up, Reid?” Morgan asked, eyes scanning the messy room. You bent down and picked up a book that seemed to be a diary, and inside was the sole reason you had been assigned to work the case.

“The diaries kept by the mother are all in english, so I’ll go over these, the rest are in a foreign language that L/n can go over.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, “And me?”

“Oh, I was wondering if you could make me a coffee?”

Morgan scoffed and walked away.

You settled on the floor criss cross style, noticing the diaries had been organised in order of when they were written. At least 40 diaries had been filled, and you wondered how someone would have that much time to fill these out. Spencer watched you as you read the accounts written on the pages, but had to rip his eyes off of you once again if he wanted anything to be done.

His stack was much higher, that only becoming apparent to you after you took the courage to look at him.

“How are you going to read all of that?” You asked, cutting the silence like a knife. He looked around him and smiled slightly.

“I can read pretty fast,

“Oh, wow. That’s impressive. Are you a genius or something?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Oh.” You smiled tightly, grabbing the small notebook from your back pocket to start writing important details in english. He gulps, barely audible and squeezes his eyes in courage to talk again.

“Do you like reading?”

You lifted your head again and nodded, “I like sci-fi, maybe with some romance.”

He nodded and smiled, before clearing his throat and saying what he truly wanted to say this whole time, “I think you might have to keep distance from Sheriff Stevens.”

Your gaze flickered up at his brown eyes, swirls bringing you in like an optical illusion made for hypnotism. You shrugged and put on a reassuring smile, “It’ll be fine. He probably just didn’t expect me to be here, I’m not a part of your team so.”

“You’re a part of it now. At least for this case.” Spencer said softly, going back to dragging one finger down the scribbles in the book.

His words warmed your heart and your cheeks, causing you to look down after he did to hide the pink painted against your faded freckles. Suddenly, Agent Hotchner appeared in the doorway and cleared his throat - maybe he felt the same tension you did.

You stood up immediately, patting down your pantsuit trousers, Spencer’s eyes latched onto your hands.

“We need you both at the tip line immediately, they’ve called us.”

“They?” Spencer stands and follows Hotch out the room and into a smaller office with only a desk and phone in it, and that same sheriff from before.

You trail behind them, eyebrows furrowed before you realise the situation.

“The Unsubs. Y/n, we need you here to translate and scribe, I’ll be talking and if they end up speaking their first language,” Hotch pierced his gaze to yours, “you’ll be speaking.”

Your eyes widened, glancing between Spencer and Hotch, raising your hands in your own defence, “Oh, no. I don’t know how to- I don’t even know what to say-“

Hotch hovered a hand over your shoulder and nodded, “We’ll tell you what to say. All you need to do is what you do best, and listen.”

The sheriff lifted himself to where he was leaning on a wall and crossed his arms over his uniformed chest. He stared at you and then at Agent Hotchner. “This is who you’re trusting classified information with? Someone from the country we’re going against?”

Emily and Morgan entered the room then, closing the door, both of them nearly shivering at the sudden gloominess of the room - not that making contact with criminals was all sunshine and rainbows.

“Excuse me?” Hotch raises an eyebrow and puffs his chest out.

“I’m not from that country, sir, I simply understand the language.” You defend yourself as Spencer moves closer to you, shoulder to shoulder. Hotch moves away slightly, obviously thinking that was the end of that misunderstanding, but the sheriff speaks over any orders the SSA Chief.

“That’s what you want us to think. I saw how you scoped out the office, not to mention you look exactly like those people. How can we guarantee this girl doesn’t tell us lies? How can we guarantee she doesn’t tell them the truth?” His face was turning red and he had started moving towards you, before Spencer put out an arm in front of you and positioned you behind him.

“Agent L/n is a trained translator and has been for more years than you’ve been a sheriff. If you want any chance to find the kidnapped girls, you need to get over your ego. Maybe if you actually listened to her and let her do her job, you’d realise how stupid you are.”

The sheriff stood in shock, so did you. Your neck reddened and you took a step back, Spencer’s cologne overwhelming you. Morgan grabbed the man by the arm and forced him out of the room.

It was silent only for a second before Emily started, “Well, now that we’ve gotten him out of the way. Why don’t we take this call?”

They spoke english for a large portion of the call, but there were other people on their side who were speaking another language in the background that you got to work on translating. The call abruptly ended, and everyone’s shoulders slumped, the call was nearly useless. Hotch glanced at you and you took that as an invitation to begin reciting what they were saying.

As you went down the list of phrases, you paused and looked up to the BAU team.

“There’s a foreigner working with them.” Spencer furrowed his brows which caused you to explain quickly, “One of them had a strong english accent, and only chimed in a couple times. He was telling the caller what to say… I think.”

Hotch nodded and lead the team away from the room with the phone and into the room with the bulletin boards full of crime scene photos and maps. Spencer stood behind you slightly, and when your temporary boss started explaining the situation to the still-red sheriff, he turned your shoulder to face him. You searched his face confused before he spoke up,

“You should be more confident. Don’t say ‘I think’ at the end. You’re the only one who knows you’re right - plus me.”

You smiled and nodded. Spencer scanned the room, only to make eye contact with a smirk-faced Morgan.

Spencer conversed with Hotch after the sheriff went off to do who knows what, and Hotch agreed that he shouldn’t be left with you at any point in the case.

After 10 more hours of translating, driving, and analysing, the case had been closed and now you were back on the plane. The uncle of the girls had hired the kidnappers, wanting money from the parents that he felt was stolen from him when his parents died and his brother got most in the will.

This time, you took an empty seat at the back, not feeling like hovering for the full plane ride like last time. Your legs hurt, your social battery drained and your was energy at its lowest, and yet when Spencer took the seat in front of you, you felt a rush course through your body.

His cologne was back, and he held two books in his big hands. Tucking a short strand of hair behind his ear, he cleared his throat and smiled awkwardly,

“Hi, Y/n.” Your first name, not your last, and not Agent L/n. Your first name.

“Hi, Spencer.” His first name, not his last, and not Agent Reid. His first name.

He gulped, eyes darting from your face to the books on the table between you. “I brought you a book from my library I thought you’d like.”

Your eyes widened and you smiled, looking down at the blue covered book he held out. In your hands the book was still warm with his touch as you let your fingers trail the title and authors name.

“Well, I don’t actually know if you’ll like it. But you said you like sci-fi romance so- And I know you can speak that language so.” He rambled and you giggled smally, causing him to pause and stare at you in awe.

“Thank you, Spencer. This is actually the second language I ever learnt, I learnt it from my grandmother.” You told him, opening the book to a random page and smiling at the language printed on the off-yellow paper.

Spencer heart swelled, and it felt foreign. You had told him a piece of you, a tiny piece, but it felt like enough confirmation that you didn’t think he was weird, or too nerdy, or not outgoing enough.

“I’m glad.” He whispered, eyes scanning your face like it was the last time he would see you. It worried him slightly. “Do you want to um… go somewhere?”

“Like in general?” You titled your head.

He laughed slightly, “No, no. I mean like, with me?”

You cheeks reddened immediately and you unconsciously held a hand up to your face to hide your flustered expression. You took a breath and nodded, “Yes, I’ll go somewhere with you.”

perm taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es

taglist - @0108s22m @aurorsworld @gghostwriter @khxna @reeseisinapiece @bibissparkles @pinkpantheris @theognatster @webbluvrkleo @sneak-fic @jiuseoks @geepinky @darling006 @adissonsss @iniyalovesall @danilewis @radiantdanvers @bibiznbyler @butternutter6779

#criminal minds #spencer reid #cm #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #🍵 —☆ pia’s pages

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haetrack · 6 months

Note

did i hear mark request…

it’s late, you and mark have been spending the last week studying in the library every night for a big final. ur brain’s exhausted and u’ve been losing focus every now and again for the last hour but these last 15 mins, u’ve spent being distracted at how good mark looks next to u, extremely focused and determined to get through these practice papers. so u wanna see how long he can stay concentrated and quiet with ur hands all over him - he’s not quiet though this man is gonna moan and whine in ur ear like his life depends on it

(tbh i just wanna give this man a handjob in public and watch him finish)(he’s so hot)(i need him so bad)(maybe edge him a little too idk)

req 5: mark lee x afab!reader

wc: 2.7k

warnings: smut (MDNI!), public sex in a library, handjob, edging (HOORAY)

a/n: THIS WAS SO BEAUTIFUL… HE SO… HES SONSNDMFK

you’ve been sitting at the library with mark for hours. the words of the article in front of you begin blurring together, none of it is really clicking, none of it bothering to stick in your head. you could recite the whole study guide and its answers by now. you just keep getting distracted. every time you look over at mark, you lose focus.

you can’t help but let your mind drift, can’t help but think about doing a little more than kissing with him.

you and mark have been together for five months. still a fairly new relationship, and you are happy to call him your boyfriend. he’s sweet, attentive, funny, and cute, but you can’t help but wish for one thing. since you’ve gotten in a relationship, you haven’t really done anything but kiss. which is fine, but it always leaves you on edge.

you can tell he gets needy too, his hands wandering, groping around as he licks into your mouth. you can feel him try not to subtly grind into you, keeping you firmly sat on his thighs as he kisses you. it’s not something you can complain about, but it’s been sitting in your mind for too long.

even now, late at night at your school’s library, your bored mind is not safe from these thoughts. you look at him through the corner of your eyes, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes focused on the practice problems he was given to by his professor. his bites down on his bottom lip, fingers messing with the corner of the page as he tries to remember what to do.

he’s not even doing anything crazy, but here you are lusting over mark while you two are studying. it’s been like this for a whole week, your boyfriend inviting you out to study with him for finals week. are you in the same class he’s in? no, but you will be there for him whenever he asks. you also get a bonus of seeing him like this.

during the first part of the week, you actually did study. you both focused on your own work, took small breaks with each other, then went back to studying. it eventually evolved to you staring at scans of your textbook, eyes occasionally glancing to mark. tonight is worse, you can’t stop staring at him.

you check the time, nearly midnight. you look around and find a few other students, either dozing off or intensely doing their work. none of them are aware of their surroundings, none would see you in the small secluded corner you both are in. you shift a little in your seat, squeezing your thighs together to calm yourself down.

you let out a long groan, which catches mark’s attention. he tears his eyes away from his paper, amusement in his eyes as he presses a kiss to your temple. it takes everything in you to not throw yourself in his lap right there. instead, you place a hand on his thigh as you kiss him back. he lets out a small sigh at the touch, eyes closing from the feeling.

you pull away from him, hand still on his thigh as you look at him. his eyes are still lingering on your lips, pretty and swollen from the kiss. a quiet laugh leaves you, “how much more do you have left?”

“not a lot,” he huffs, “it’s just, i legit don’t think i can do them anymore.”

you smile at him, scooting your chair close to his, leaning your head on his shoulder, “want me to take a look?”

“well, do you know how to do this?” he points to his paper, an equation that shouldn’t make sense to anyone currently being shown to you.

“i’m not as smart as you, but i will be your personal cheerleader.” you press a kiss to his neck, enjoying how he shivers at the contact. you press a few more kisses until you reach his jawline, your hand squeezing around his thigh. he doesn’t try moving, eyes fixed on how your thighs squeeze together.

when you move your hand higher, his hand shoots down to your wrist. you think he might move it away, telling you he doesn’t want to do this here. you’d apologize quickly, choosing to do your work as you hold his hand.

he doesn’t though, he keeps your wrist there, a tight hold around your skin.

you move to put your head on his shoulder again. your fingers trace light patterns over his sweats. his leg begins bobbing up and down, waiting to see what you might do next. you’re almost surprised to see mark letting you go this far. you can feel the heat from his face, and you can see how his chest rises quickly.

you’re not sure if you want to initiate this here, but as you see mark squirm in his seat, you realize you might have to do something. you want him to tell you that he wants this. under the guise of being tired, you shut your eyes, exhaling while your hand continues to warm his thigh. you don’t want to pressure him into this, giving him the option to ignore you if he wants.

he tries. he tries to look at his paper again, trying to recall what he’s supposed to do. maybe he’d be able to figure it out if it weren’t for how close your hand was to his hardening cock. he’s not sure if it’s because of how frustrated he is or it finally dawned on him how pent up he is, but he needs you.

he lets out a shaky breath, your hand not moving from his spot. he shifts a little in his seat, moving your hand a little further up. it’s not where he needs you, but the feeling of your fingers tracing along his sweats has his cock twitching. he’s about to ask you to do something, but you beat him to it.

“do you need help with that, mark?”

he feels your gaze on his now too tight sweats, hard and begging for your touch. he bites back a groan when your fingers trace over the outline of his cock, squeezing at the tip. this the most you’ve ever touched him, and it’s getting to his head too fast. he bites down on his bottom lip, too scared to open his mouth.

there was a reason to all the times he’s pushed you off of him. he was so embarrassed, every time you kissed him on his lap, he couldn’t help but get so close to cumming. you weren’t doing anything intentional, but the feeling of your lips on his, the softs sounds you made, and the feeling of you on top of him sent a rush to his head.

for you to be so close to him, yet not where he needs you is enough for him to buck his hips into your hand. he lets out the smallest gasp. your lips graze his ears, “tell me what you want mark, i’ll give you anything you need.”

“want you to touch me, want you to touch my…” you can hear him swallow, “t-touch my cock, please.”

your hand teases the band of his sweets, messing with the drawstrings, “anything for you, markie.”

your hand finally slips under his sweats and boxers, hand slowly wrapping around his hard cock. this is better than any of your fantasies, feeling how he throbs in your hold. you let him sit with the feeling for a bit, your grip tightening around his length. he lets out a hiss, quickly covering his mouth when he realizes he’s still at the library.

your fingers move to glide over his tip, spreading the precum around, “guess you’ll have to be quiet, right?”

he nods quickly, eyes shaking when he looks down to see your hand in his pants, right where he needs you. he tries not to seem too eager, tries not to look like he’s currently being touched in the middle of the library. his eyes scan the room, everyone else too busy to be looking at them.

when your hand starts moving along his length, he turns to look at his paper, trying to look busy. his hands are gripping onto the table, knuckles turning white as he feels you touch him for the first time. it’s not the most ideal place, but he’s too pent up too care at this point.

your hand feels nice around him. it’s not like he hasn’t gotten a handjob before, but you’re the one touching him this time.

he’s not sure if it’s because he can see how affected you’re getting by watching him or how good your hand feels wrapped around his cock, but he’s close to cumming. it hasn’t even been that long, he swears that he usually isn’t like this. he bites down hard on his tongue, one of his hands wanting to cover his mouth to stop any moans from coming out.

you noticed how quiet he’s being, and you can’t have that. you know he must be close to cumming, his length throbbing in your hold. you slow your movements, whispering so only he can hear, “mark, won’t you tell me how good it feels? wanna hear how good you feel.”

he shakes his head, cheeks turning pink as he tries to figure out what to do. all he can think about is how close he is, how warm you feel as you lean against him. when he doesn’t answer, you tighten your grip around him, thumb teasing his tip. his whole body shakes, ready to fill his sweatpants with cum.

“mark,” you whine out, “are you close to cumming? aren’t you gonna tell me that you’re close?”

his mouth stays shut, his hips bucking up. his tip is heavily leaking, eyes closed as he fucks into your hand. you can’t believe you get to see him like this, get to see him try and hold back how good you make him feel. it’s when he lets out a small whine of your name when you pull your hand away from him.

he immediately turns to look at you, grabbing your wrist, trying to put together a sentence that makes sense. you let out a small laugh, swatting away his hands that reach for yours. you pout, “you didn’t wanna tell me that i was making you feel good.”

he whisper-shouts at you, “that’s it? i-i could’ve cum… please. just let me- let me try one more time.”

“hm… you still have work to do, right? focus on your work, mark.” you press a kiss to his cheek, leaning back against your chair.

mark stares hard at you, cock still hard in his sweats as he tries to see if you’ll touch him again. in fact, you gesture for him to keep working, eyes watching as he huffs. he turns back to the worksheets, mind too hazy to do any work now. he taps his pencil onto the page, nothing seems to come to mind.

a few minutes pass, mark calming down when he looks at his notes. the problem starts to make sense, slowly writing down the steps to the problem. he tries not to think of you too much, realizing just how quiet you’re being. he knows you can’t stay still for long, waiting for any move you might make.

before he knows it, your hand slithers down into his sweats, fingers lightly moving across his cock. he’s half-hard, beginning to twitch as you make a fist around his length. before he can turn all his attention, you grab him by the shoulder, “keep doing your work, mark. finish your work and i’ll let you cum.”

he nods, but you don’t start moving. you look at him in the eyes, your hand tightening around him, “need to hear you tell me. wanna hear you make some noise.”

he gulps, his whole body feeling hot, “i’ll… i’ll try.”

you make a small noise in excitement, hand finally touching him again. you watch as he puts all his focus on the paper in front of him, not writing anything down. he’s blankly staring at it, licking his lips as his eyes threaten to close. you move your hand faster, tightening your fist when you reach his tip. he’s losing himself quickly, letting out small noises at the feeling.

you push into his side, “do your work, mark. don’t want anyone looking over here and finding that mark lee is currently getting jerked off in the library.”

he lets out a gasp, hands shakily picking up his pencil. he can’t control himself, hips moving on their own as he tries to stop himself from making too much noise. he can feel your expectant stare, just waiting for him to make a sound. it’s when you tighten your fist around his base, slowly sliding up to his tip that he lets out a quiet moan of your name.

you sit up a little further, now fully watching his face as he tries to hide from you. his face is scrunched up, his hips now fucking your hand. he doesn’t care anymore, not when you’re making him feel so good, not when he can feel his orgasm quickly building up.

“f-fuck, your hand feels good. just-” he lets out a small whimper, “keep going, baby.”

happy with his response, your hand moves faster. you can hear the slight squelch of it, his precum helping you glide against his cock. mark looks fucked out, face red as he keeps moving. he can’t help but pretend he’s fucking your pussy, can’t help but wonder if this is how it feels to have you wrapped around him. once finals are over, he will definitely be having sex with you.

you can’t help but let out a whimper yourself, enjoying watching mark fall apart way too much. you bite down on his earlobe, “wanna feel you cum all over my hand. wanna make you feel good, mark.”

he leans back, whining in your ear, “y-yeah, gonna cum all over you. wanna- wanna show you how good you’re doing.”

one of his hands makes it to your thigh, squeezing it for support. he’s losing control, low groans leaving his mouth as you jerk him off. his hips lift off the chair, choosing to full-on fuck your hand. he looks so good right now, and you think he might finally deserve what he wants. you let out a whisper, “cum for me, mark. wanna see you cum.”

mark doesn’t need to be told twice. his hips buck into your hand, his hand around your thigh tightening as he lets out a fuck, a low groan filling the air around you. he feels so gross as he lets go in his sweats, cum shooting out into your hold.

when you feel his cum spurt into his hand, you wrap an arm around him, letting him lean into your touch. he shoves his head into your shoulder, not caring about the loud whines he lets out as he cums in your hand. there’s a lot, his thighs beginning to shake as you help him ride out his orgasm.

he pushes your hand away at the feeling of overstimulation, you laugh as you slide your hand out. your hand is covered in his cum, and you bring it up to your mouth. mark watches with heavy eyes as you suck your cum-stained fingers, watches how you practically moan out at the taste of his cum. he almost gets hard again, his cock begging for your attention.

you laugh at him, quite loud in the quiet space of the library. someone shoots you an ugly look before sticking their nose back to their laptop. you and mark giggle together, hushed in the secluded corner you’ve been in.

“out of all the noises you were making, they decided to get mad at me for laughing?”

mark has to slap a hand around his mouth to stop anymore laughs, “i wasn’t even being that loud! you looked like you were enjoying it more than i was!”

you shove at his shoulder in embarrassment, “that’s what happens when you run away from me when we make out!”

“i’ll make sure it won’t happen again.” he goes to hold your clean hand, “now, can i, uh- can you teach me how to…”

he makes some weird gestures, and by the looks of it, he wants to try to eat you out. you smile at him, “of course, mark.”

#asks #anon #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct fic #mark lee smut #mark lee fic #mark lee x reader #mark lee scenarios

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entitled-fangirl · 9 months

Text

The best thing for Marcus.

Marcus Volturi x human!reader

Summary: His darling mate falls asleep on his throne while he works.

Words: 511 (she's a short one)

Warnings: Too sweet for your teeth maybe? Idk vampires?

Author's note: I love Marcus so much. Younger or older version I literally don't care. He deserves the world, honestly.

Masterlist

.........................................................................

Marcus stood at the side table in the throne room, books scattered around him and his brothers. His hair is pulled back in a bun to secure it away from his face. He scans each page carefully, flipping through them quite quickly.

The sound of soft breathing brings him out of his focused mind. His head turns slightly.

His beautiful mate has fallen asleep on his throne.

Her head rests against one armrest, her legs draping over the other. His lips pull into a small smile as he admires her. The smell of her begins to distract him further, his eyes closing at the smell. This was his favorite smell in the world. The feeling of draining her blood from her body would be the greatest rush of adrenaline he’d ever receive, but he knew if he did so, he would become a hollow form of himself without her.

Aro and Caius are brought out of their work as well, the sight of Marcus in such bliss a welcoming and warming sight. He was a fierce king, but a lovely one at that. Love was what he did best. And while seemingly intolerable at times, his brothers had become harder to give him room to flourish.

His ears perk up at a sound. A soft, quiet sigh escapes her lips. She was fully relaxed at this stage. Not that Marcus needed to know small facts like that, for he could see it in front of him, himself. His darling dove seemed to be completely relaxed. What he’d do to pick her up now and whisk her away forever.

He approached her resting body, kneeling down in front of it. How strange to see one of the vampire kings kneeling before his own throne, where a measly sleeping human lay. A gentle hand brushes the hairs from her forehead. “Dove, you must awaken so I may take you to bed properly.”

She stirs slightly, her voice a soft whisper, “No, I… I’m fine. This is fine…”

He chuckled. She was a sweet and affectionate thing, always wanting to be near him. His hand reached to the back of her neck, cradling her head. “I’ll tell you what.”

Her eyes open only slightly more as he continues, “Let’s go to bed, the two of us, until you are well rested.”

She considered the proposal. It did sound rather nice. Her hands reach for his collar, “The entire time? Just the two of us?”

He nods, “Yes, Nightingale. I promise.”

Her arms move further back to wrap around his neck, “Alright.”

He smiles, positioning his hands under her before picking her up easily. He turns, beginning to walk out of the room before stopping. “Dear brothers?”

They both turned to him.

“I am excused for the day. I have other matters to attend to.”

Aro nods, watching Marcus and the human walk away. Oh, how that human would either be the best thing to happen to the Volturi, or the worst.

But one thing is for sure: She was the best thing for Marcus.

#the volturi #volturi #twilight fanfiction #twilight #marcus volturi #twilight imagines #marcus volturi x reader #marcus volturi imagines #marcus volturi oneshots #vampire kings

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kurjakani · 6 months

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Ok YIPEE my overthinker serger manual (most likely just a prototype) is done. One of my pieces for my composition course. Here's scans, I'm gonna put an explanation under cut.

Assignment was: find two photos which have a composition you like. Take one, break down the components, and create your own piece with those ideas.

My photo was a page from a serger manual, but I technically went with the composition of a manual in general. I like infographics and i like infographics used in art.

I was feeling a little empty headed, but my main thought was: how much is enough information? Because I often struggle with my answer being "never too much". It's technically great- but at points in my life it has lead to scattered understanding of things because I keep focusing on minute aspects of a Thing so the bigger picture dissappears. Its one of the reasons why i love manuals- i love page lists, i love when someone takes a subject and decides what is the most valuable knowledge here for you. It says a lot about the creator of the manual, its purpose, the machines purpose..

I also do like manuals because knowledge is unwieldy and no manual will ever be perfect.

I would rly like one day to make a better version. A bigger one, mostly, wherw the process to unrelated bullshit is slower, but also maybe some thread of info runs through it? There's a lot of storytelling you can do with what information you pick. Also it would be fun to have these threads of info run parallel and end in the same subjects.

Idk, everything is connected etc etc

#kaniart #art #kani goes to artschool #i go pass out. tf now

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mystic-writings · 1 year

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sneak out | jess mariano

PAIRING — jess mariano x fem!gilmore!reader SUMMARY — minutes into your mother’s dinner party, jess suggests you sneak out through your bedroom window - and you can’t help but agree WARNINGS — fluff, jess and reader being ‘troubled’ teens, a bit of angst, reader venting WORD COUNT — 2,322 NOTES — the idea of lorelai having a teen that was just like her is so appealing to me idk why - also would you believe me if i told you i listened to yung gravy while writing the majority of this fic

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You weren’t sure which was worse - the dinner your mother was hosting, or the idea that you now had to put up with a whole night of Luke’s strange nephew, whom you’d never met before.

Of course, you loved your family to pieces, and you loved Sookie and Jackson; hell, sometimes you looked at Luke as more of a father than you did your actual dad, but having everyone together for what you knew would be at least a three course meal, under one roof, with Luke’s mysterious nephew from New York, just felt draining.

So, to preserve what little social battery you had left for the day, you decided to spend the time between school and dinner in your room upstairs with a good book and a cd playing from the player that sat on your dresser at a low volume. You had to change the cd twice, first from one of your mothers Bangles cds to a Smiths one, but just as you were enjoying the beginning of David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust album (and nearly finishing up your book), did you hear the clanging of pots and pans from downstairs, as well as Sookie and Jackson’s lighthearted bickering.

You managed to bury yourself back into your book, one leg crossed loosely over the other outstretched one as you half-sat, half-laid on your bed, being mindful of your shoes so as to not get any dirt on your covers.

From downstairs, Jess was wandering around the Gilmore home as everyone else did whatever they were doing in the kitchen, internally monologuing and half-mocking their decor. He’d met Rory already, and she seemed like a nice enough girl. Enjoyed books. But he had yet to meet the third and final Gilmore girl, who so far had only been mentioned. However, as Jess scanned the various photographs on the mantle, he could hear the faint guitar of Suffragette City emanating from somewhere upstairs.

After peeking down the hallway to make sure no one was watching, Jess smirked and snuck up the stairs, into what was surely off-limits territory for someone like him. Still, he took the stairs two at a time and stealthily, managing to avoid all the places that would creak in a house like this one, despite never stepping foot inside beforehand. He followed the music down the hall, past some more paintings and pictures, to another bedroom. The door was open, and he was able to take a look inside. Posters covered most of the wall, leaving little space to show off the paint beneath them. Bookshelves occupied the wall right beside the door, and similarly to Rory’s room, they looked stuffed to the brim with books.

On the bed, facing him, was the person he assumed to be the final Gilmore girl - Rory’s twin sister. He watched intently, scanning every feature of your focused face as you scanned the final pages of the book you were reading. How your brow furrowed, eyes locked on the ink before you. The way the foot that hung off the edge of the bed was moving to the beat of the song.

Once Jess had decided that he’d been watching you long enough to constitute stalking, and how that was probably extremely creepy, he nudged the door open with a creak and stepped inside, clearing his throat and pulling his lips into a slight smirk. “Hey there, Ziggy.”

At first, you thought that your mother was finally calling you down to dinner, until you heard the unusually male - and entirely unfamiliar - voice come from the body in your doorway. Tucking a receipt into your book to mark your place, you glared over at the boy standing in your room with his hands behind his back, smugness rolling off of him in waves as he admired your room.

“You’re Jess, aren’t you.” Your flat tone seemed to amuse him.

“How nice, you already know my name. I’m flattered.”

You watched him as he walked around your room, over to the window where your desk was, trying to figure him out as he peeled back your curtains. “It’s impossible to not know someone’s name in this town, even someone who’s only been here for 28 hours.”

He chuckled. “Nice one, Ziggy. Now tell me, why aren’t you downstairs with the rest of the freakshow? I mean, they are your family, after all, aren’t they?”

You pretended to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Sorry to break it to you, Mariano, but I’ve been banned from the freakshow. Apparently having apathy toward any sort of Gilmore humour is forbidden, and they’ve locked me away forever.”

“Aw, so sorry to hear that.” Jess mocked, placing a hand over his heart with an exaggerated pout. “I can’t believe they shunned such a ray of sunshine.” He smirked at your rolled eyes. “No, really, you must be a real treat at parties.”

“Quit it, Mariano. Is there a reason you came up here or did you just want to cause enough trouble to get kicked out of our beloved Stars Hollow? Because if so, you came to the right girl.”

Jess’ brow quirked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you heaved a dramatic sigh, slipping off your bed to walk over to Jess. “But it’s like… 9pm on a Wednesday. In Stars Hollow. Even if I wanted to cause trouble, and I don’t, because I did enough of that at school today, there’s nothing to do. Everyone’s asleep, and I’m pretty sure our 24-hour mini-mart closed like, half an hour ago.”

Now it was Jess’ turn to roll his eyes. “Your sister said that already. Is there seriously nothing to do here?”

“Nope.” You shrugged, just as a thought came to mind. “Well… there is one thing…” Jess’ eyebrows raised at the prospect of having something fun to do, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s not anything revolutionary, you know.”

“Still, give me something, anything, to get us out of here, Ziggy. I’m begging you. I’m being suffocated by the stale air of suburban life.”

You nodded, tapping your fingers on your thigh. “Fine, I’ll tell you. But you gotta do one thing for me.”

“What is it? I’ll do anything, I swear.”

“Stop calling me Ziggy.” You said. “It’s a stupid nickname, and although I admire the fact that you listen to David Bowie enough to come up with a nickname like that one, I hate it. Call me by my actual name.”

“Well I would, if I knew it.”

“My mother never told you my name?” You asked with a raised brow. “She never shuts up about me and Rory, I’m surprised you never caught it.”

“Apparently, I didn’t. It seems she likes talking about Rory more.” Jess shrugged. “At least, around me she does.” He barely caught the slight sag of your shoulders, the drop in your demeanour, before you picked it back up and smiled.

“Well, Jess. I’m Y/n. Y/n Gilmore.” After a pause, you looked around and snagged a sweater from the chair in the corner of your room. “Now, if you’ll follow me, let’s go have as much fun as we’re able to in Stars Hollow at night.”

Jess waited impatiently behind you as you unlatched the window by your desk and pushed it up, slipping through and holding it open for him. As he clamoured out, you grabbed the rock underneath the window and placed it on the windowsill, lowering the window so you’d still be able to get back in later.

You could still hear the tail end of the album playing as Jess looked around.

“How are we supposed to get down?”

“The trellis, obviously.” You said, carefully making your way across the porch’s roof to the trellis right next to the kitchen window. “Just don’t make much noise, this thing is right next to the kitchen’s window and if we get caught we’re screwed. Follow my lead, and run when you hit the ground, got it?”

“Got it.”

Scaling down the trellis was basically second nature to you, but you made sure to look up every once in a while to make sure Jess was doing okay. He seemed to be, which comforted you somehow. You waited at the bottom for him, making sure to stay out of view of the window to the kitchen and the edge of the porch, which were on either side of the trellis, and could possibly get both you and Jess grounded.

When he landed, he looked at you, and a dish clattered in the kitchen. You both snapped to the window, then back to each other. On instinct, you took his hand and ran toward the woods.

“Where the hell are we going?!” Jess whisper-shouted.

“Relax!” You whisper-shouted back, slowing to a stop as soon as you were hidden in the tree line. “We’re not going into the woods, dumbass. What do you think would’ve happened if we waltzed out in the open in front of the living room window?”

Jess only sighed and nodded, letting go of your hand. He let you lead him through the trees, keeping the light of the house close to you, walking around the garage and past all the cars, waiting until Babette’s house was out of sight until you stepped back onto the road.

The walk was calm and quiet, crickets and the breeze occupying you instead of chatter. After a while, when you were beginning to reach the town centre, Jess spoke up. “So, what now?”

You shrugged. “Not sure. Usually I head to the lake, bring a book, or a cd player and some headphones. I don’t normally bring people with me, you know?”

Jess nodded, lips slightly pursed. The walk continued through the town, passing by shop after shop, all of them closed for the night. You had to admit, you weren’t used to taking walks like these, out in the open. Normally you’d find whichever path kept you out of the possible sight of the townspeople, a habit you developed after Taylor snitched on you to your mother after he caught you walking to the lake by the Inn when you were 12. Still, it was nice, and even if you were caught, you somehow didn’t seem to mind it.

As the buildings were fading again and you knew you were approaching the lake, you checked your watch. 9:27pm. You sighed, and Jess looked at you. Dropping your arm, you shook your head. “Almost 9:30. They definitely have to know something’s up at home. Probably sending out a search party by now.” You told him, before shrugging. “Or, you know, miraculously, they forgot we existed and are eating Sookie’s delicious no-allergen, fourteen course meal as we speak.”

Jess scoffed. “Yeah, right. Luke might not care that much, but Lorelai? She seems like the world’s most protective parent.”

“She is.” You confirmed, sitting on your usual bench, eyes following Jess as he sat next to you. “Trust me, I love her to death, but it gets annoying sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, at least you have a protective mom.” Jess’ hands gripped the edge of the bench, his body hunched forward, making him look small, ready to run at a moment’s notice. “Mine decided I wasn’t worth the effort. Shipped me off to this… circus show without so much as a ‘sayonara, kid.’ You’re lucky.”

You frowned. Everyone knew within the hour of him arriving in Stars Hollow that Jess was a troubled kid, but even troubled kids deserved parents that cared. He was right, though, you were lucky. It just didn’t feel like it.

“I know I’m lucky, Jess, but it’s not all rainbows for me, you know.”

“Oh yeah? How?” He scoffed. “You have the perfect life, Y/n. A mom that cares, a great twin sister - hell, even Luke sings your praises.”

“Luke sings?”

Jess rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“It’s not like that all the time, Jess.” You sighed. “My ‘great’ twin sister is, apparently, so great that she has all eyes on her at all times. My grandparents are always so proud of her for being so smart and planning this amazing, expensive, studious future - they’re planning on funding it, too, from the sounds of things. I just want to live, you know?” You kicked a rock with your shoe, avoiding Jess’ concerned gaze.

“And my mother seems more concerned about her wellbeing than mine, closer to her than to me. But somehow she wonders why I’m the troubled one. I mean, I act out, I barely go to that stupid prep school because it’s so suffocating, and I got an eyebrow piercing without permission instead of taking a calculus test last month, which I’m just getting out of that punishment. Everyone’s so focused on Rory and how seemingly great she is, I don’t even remember the last time I was appreciated for anything. And don’t even get me started on my dad.”

“Sounds like these freaks don’t know a good person when they see one.” Jess told you. “You seem chill. Adventurous, too. But just because you aren’t appreciated doesn’t mean you aren’t good enough.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “You too, Jess.” The world quieted around you for a moment, stars shining off the rippling waters of the lake. “But we don’t need to be good enough for them. Just good enough for us.”

He smiled, nodding once at you. Again, you appreciated the silence with him, watching the water or the sky. It wouldn’t be long until Luke and your mother found you both, you with your head on his shoulder and one knee bent to your chest, laughing quietly at a joke he told as you continued to get to know one another. But that was later. For now, you simply sat and watched the water, wishing the moment could last for the rest of your lives.

permanent taglist: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @queen-asteria04 @heliads

jess mariano taglist: open!

taglist form is in my navigation!

#jess mariano #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x you #jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano fluff #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls x reader

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defectivefanboy · 1 year

Note

Hi darling! How are you? How have you been? Sorry for bothering, I wanted to request! You really write very well and keep up with the good work! So anyways.. Can I request smut for Alastor, Lucifer & Crimson reacting to their girlfriend wear a lingerie?

Thank you so much! Have a lovely day/night!!

　　　∧_∧::

(´･ω･`)::

/⌒ ⌒)::

/へ_＿ / /::

(＿＼＼ﾐ)/::

｜ `-イ::

/ )::

/／／::

／／::

( く:::

|＼ヽ:::

Imma go ahead and ignore that icky word that's in there and make it S/O because I want to write Alastor. Here is my request page for anyone who wants to in the future. Please take a read before you come into my inbox :D

Can I request smut for Alastor, Lucifer & Crimson reacting to their [REDACTED] wearing lingerie?

Overall notes: Stories written on this blog are GN until specified. While this story uses they/them pronouns, and while I don't mind female readers on my blog/interacting, love my girlies, hey girlies~, but I do not write female reader, and if you are a fetishizer. fuck off??? ew. How would you even do that on an x reader???

C/W: NSFW topics, Each character will have their own respective warnings, Sexual content, duh, no pronouns used, Bottom! reader favored, Established relationships. OOC?, I mean this would never happen, so yeah ooc

Notes: the giggle I had to stop when I got to Alastor good god, but Lucifer was honestly the funniest and most enjoyable to write. I had a smile on my face the whole time

Crimson ♧︎...

C/W: Slight Voyeurism (mention of his right hand man Alessio), Degradation, he def has a sir kink, don't lie to me, mention of stealing/sugarbaby (hes an asshole) mention of stalkers? admirers?? idk he just mentions people leaving you gifts,

For being an old (mafia) man. He's not opposed to a little dress up

Only if its you though. He would NEVER

He would be into something with a little more class.

Never will his darling look like some 2 cent floozy

So none of that crotchless bull honky. While he wouldn't be mad at it, he would rather leave more to the imagination. Something to work for, y'know?

And he would certainly work for it.

You really wanna get him going? Accentuate your hips. That's something him and Moxxie can agree. They like their darling with a little bit of width~

If you are gonna wear something for him, you best put on a show while you're at it.

He waits to do business after dinner, so why not let him enjoy his meal

For an asshole he has some manners now

Always making you cum once or twice before even taking your outfit off.

It likes to wait before unwrapping his gift <3

But once he gets more accustom to your interest

He's definitely going to be the one buying you the set

well its his money that's being used, Al is the one who goes and picked them up. Poor baby...

"You're so needy, baby. But did you need to go and make yourself out to be a whore in the middle of a meeting?" Crimson said as he placed a hand on your waist. His desk might not be the most comfortable place, but it will do for now. It's not like he can ignore you when you got all dolled up for him.

"I don't remember buying this one. Alessio leaving you gifts now too?" His fingers slid under the thin fabric as you let out a soft whine before answering, "I got them,.. custom made, sir." you said, trying to steady your breathing as his hands wandered between your legs. You let out a yelp as he spreads your legs out more for himself.

"And where are you getting this money from, huh? Hope you're not stealing it from me, brat." He gives you a soft glare and a questioning look as his eyes scan over the fabric that covered you, before his spotted the embroidered 'C. Knolastname' on the front of the waist band. With his index finger and thumb, he hooked them around the band and traced the deigned. Crimson gives you a smirk and placed a kiss right under your belly button before moving down.

"Hmm... maybe i do have a use for that ring then after all, but i should repay this favor before hand. Right, (Y/n) Knolastname?"

Lucifer 𓅰...

C/W: light choking, another one with a superiority kink, mentions of god (he calls himself it), size kink for the fact I thought this man was like 5'8-10 come to look up his like 6'2-3, slight crack fic (because he wouldn't take anything seriously until truly needed, he giggles when you change in front of him, it's always a crack fic with him)

HE HAS A MATCHING SET!!

god how my perception of these characters have been warped

but he has most definitely bought you outfits before, probably the only one to go out of his way to get matching ones.

Even got a few custom ones made, you can always tell by the little duck embroidered somewhere on them.

He's game for anything you wanna wear. He isn't gonna stop you, if anything he's gonna encourage you to wear more.

He's helpless for you in such a pretty outfit and it's all for him?

He feels loved and he's sure to pay that back ten fold in the bedroom.

You might not allowed to be in heaven, but he can show you what it was like~

I maaay..be a bit delusional, but in private I feel like he's all giggly and shit.

Oh an he definitely was the first time you pulled this from your hat of tricks.

Almost a little to giggly i'd sat, to think the ruler of hell would be this flustered over an article of clothing is beyond me

But once he starts to become use to it. He starts to expect it. What? He is the king of Hell after all.

And he truly expects to be treated like one. (He's a brat when he doesn't get attention)

Be it sinner, hell-born, or even the 'perfect OC/that everyone loves who is half angel half devil/stronger then god/etc' he's gonna ask you one thing constantly...

"Please, my angel of death? Just one time, for me? Then i'll never ask again. Promise."

"I'm not wearing a duck tail while you fuck me. When- Where in hell did you even get these made?" you asked as you held up the pair of yellow lingerie with a duck tail sown on the back of the waist band.

"You shouldn't need to worry about that, my love. All you need to worry about is wearing them for me." He said with a light sigh and a shrug of his shoulders, a soft smile resting on his face.

"Again, I am not. fucking. wearing. them, you prick-!" As soon as you got the name out you felt yourself against the wall. The soft smile gone from Lucifer's face as a dark look pooled in his eyes, an unsettling stare never leaving yours. Before you could apologize, his hand wrapped around throat, his index finger pushed your face up to his as he spoke with a low voice.

Almost like that cheery devil was just a front...

"Oh, how far from grace you have fallen, my dear. Seems you already forgotten your god. But that's no trouble at all, for tonight..." His grip on your neck got tighter as he got closer to your ear and a sinister smile made itself at home upon his pale face. Y'know, you really only notice how big he is when he gets like this... oh that wasn't a complaint. Not when his presence alone encaged you against the wall, let alone the possessive grip that he had on you.

"I'll teach you how to praise my name once again."

Alastor 𐂂...

C/W: Teasing, sadly abo mention, WHY ARE YOU BOOING ME I AM RIGHT, blood mentions, possessive behaviors, light choking, mentions of cannabalism, duh, playing more into the abo, uhm, sniffing? idfk leave me alone its late. oh ft: a guest at the end.

Another man with class, just not as much. I mean, come on, he's still a sinner~

though when you present yourself to him in your outfit, he can't help, but raise a brow as he tried to keep down his smile at the sight.

Definitely a big tease, a BIG tease

Especially when you look so cute for him, squirming under his indifferent gaze. Oh how he wants to squeeze your cheeks and leave you begging for release~

He's also one for a game of cat and mouse.

so when you go out into town with him make sure to slip his favorite pair of lingerie under your clothes

And if you're one wear revealing clothes, then I hope you're ready for a possessive (and bloody) overlord, ad pray for anyone who thinks they can touch you, let alone come near you.

oh AND OHHHH wanna know how you really got him? How you really got to him??? When the static cuts out and that Louisiana drawl' comes out of him. (I would die. again.)

(If I say he has a rut would that be considered A/b/o? I mean he is a deer demon, same with other demons in a similar case)

but WHOOO WEE

for someone who normally has a distaste for touch that isn't initiated by him, He'll enjoy a night or two (on the rare occasion) where he lets you indulge yourself

though, do be careful now, he's a gentleman up and foremost, but he's not always a patient man at that. He's always willing to return the favor tenfold~

And if you already couldn't tell, he loves the color red, basically lives in it. So it's safe to it sets something off in him

be the cannibal in him, or maybe he just likes the color a little too much

but at the end of it you'll more marked up then a rough draft <3

"Bless your heart, Dear. Did you think I wouldn't notice... your little getup? His clawed fingers trailed your sides as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. His frame trapping you in your seat and god, would it be terrifying for any mere sinner in this position, if it wasn't for the playful twitch of his ear that told you otherwise. Someone was enjoying this more then he let on...

It wasn't the first time you had teased him in public, but it was the first time people really had the courage to come talk to you. To give the poor souls benefit of the doubt, you were just sat at the bar talking to husk. Though, you would also think the red pinstripe outfit and microphone that rested at your side gave itself away.

"And it seems i'm not the only one. Now, if I were to kill everyone in this god forsaken hotel. Whose fault would that be, hm?" A clawed hand made it's way around your throat as it softly pulled you back, letting him have full access to your neck. Burying his face in your neck, he took in a deep breathe as static radiated off him.

"Or maybe I should have you for a meal tonight. You do smell quite... appetizing, my darling. Such a shame I have to ruin that pretty little outfit of yours." Before you could even gasp a grumbling and angry voice rang out, bringing you both back into reality.

"Can you two not fuck at my bar please? You are just as bad as that damn spider."

"Oh of course Husker! We'll get out of your fur right now actually! Wasn't like these pathetic things were going to get a taste of you anyways."

#foolish writing #request #request open #helluva boss #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x male reader #alastor x gn reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #helluva boss crimson #helluva crimson #crimson knolastname #helluva boss crimson x reader #crimson x reader #crimson x male reader

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severelystrangewriter · 1 year

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Meddling Friends (Kids) (Flufftober 2023 Day 7)

Pairing: shinichiro sano x female reader

WC: 1440

Warnings: none

Summary: shinichiro is lonely so emma, mikey, and izana take matters into their own hands

Note: idk how dating apps work but this idea was just too cute to pass up

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“How tall is he?” Emma asked as she, Mikey, and Izana stared at the bio page of the dating app they downloaded on their older brother Shinichiro’s phone. They were currently huddled on the couch as they discussed it seriously.

“Like, six feet,” Mikey responded.

Emma hummed thoughtfully before typing, “I’ll put six foot two.”

“But that’s lying,” Izana argued.

“It’s for Shin’s sake,” Emma defended, “Now I need some interests, uh…”

“Motorcycles,” The three teenagers said at the same time and Emma diligently typed it out. Then she sat back thoughtfully, “Is that really all he has going for him?”

“Pretty much,” Mikey shrugged.

Emma shook her head, “We’ve gotta come up with something else… How about ‘I like to take long walks in the park and enjoy nature’ or something like that?”

“But that’d be even more lying,” Izana sighed.

“Do you want him to get a girlfriend or not?” Emma snapped, “This is Shin’s only hope, so we have to make him look good.”

“Put ‘loves kids’, some ladies like that stuff,” Mikey added, “And it’s true.”

Emma agreed and put it down, “Now all we need are some pictures.”

She went through his selfies and found the best photos of their older brother and added them to the profile. Then she smiled in satisfaction as she hit the finish button.

“Alright, it’s done!”

“What’s done?” Shinichiro’s voice sounded from the doorway causing the three siblings to jump in fright.

Emma was the first to recover as she proudly held out the phone, “Your dating profile!”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for this thing,” Shinichiro said as he took the phone back, then his sister’s words registered, “Wait, what dating profile?”

He looked down and his eyes widened at the sight of the dating app that hadn’t been there before.

“We took the liberty of making you one,” Izana explained, “You’re welcome.”

“Well I’m deleting it,” Shinichiro replied.

“No!” Emma tried to take the cell back, but he held it high in the air out of her reach. Mikey had the perfect solution and jumped on his older brother’s back, wrestling him to the floor as it became an all-out brawl for the phone. Just then his cell dinged with a notification, causing everyone to perk up.

Emma gasped excitedly, “Someone’s interested!”

“Really?” Shinichiro couldn’t keep the delight out of his tone as he sat up and looked back down at the device. He clicked on the notification and the dating app showed your bright smiling face. He made a noise, sounding impressed.

“She’s cute,” Mikey commented, peeking over his shoulder to see your picture.

Emma quickly scanned your bio and gasped again, “She sounds perfect for you!”

“You think?” Shinichiro found himself asking as he also looked over your information. “Well what do I do?”

“I think you swipe to match,” Izana explained, taking the phone and doing just that. Then he handed it back and continued, “Then you just message her.”

“Message her?” Shinichiro repeated in surprise, “What would I even say?”

“Well most people start with a hello,” Izana said like it was obvious.

“No! Do a joke! Show her you’re funny!” Emma advised.

“Is he though?” Mikey questioned blankly.

“I can be funny,” Shinichiro argued, furrowing his brows.

Before he could think of something to say, you sent the first message.

“Is that her? What’d she say?” Emma asked.

“She said ‘hey’ with a smiley face,” Shinichiro answered, “Quick what do I say?”

“Just say it back,” Mikey shrugged, “Come on, you’ve held a conversation before.”

Ignoring that last part, Shinichiro did just that and soon you were replying.

That was the start of many messages shared between you and Shin. You two seemed to hit it off really well and had quite a bit in common. He found your mannerisms endearing and just genuinely enjoyed talking to you.

However, after about a month, Shinichiro still had yet to ask you on a date, the whole reason why the younger Sano siblings downloaded the app in the first place. Which is exactly what led them to take matters into their own hands once more.

“Have you guys seen my phone?” Shinichiro asked one day as he walked into the living room only to see Emma, Mikey, and Izana huddled around it again. “What are you doing?”

“Talking to (Y/n),” Emma replied nonchalantly, being the one actually holding the device.

“What?! With my phone? Did you at least tell her it was you?”

“No,” Mikey answered bluntly, and before Shinichiro could get his phone back, the phone dinged with a message.

Emma read it first and squealed excitedly, “She said yes!”

Shinichiro was lost, “Yes? Yes to what?”

Emma simply handed his phone over to her older brother with a smug smile on her face. “You have a date tomorrow!”

“You didn’t,” Shinichiro sounded breathless as he snatched the phone out of her hands. His heart was pounding in his chest as he looked over the messages of them asking you out by pretending to be him and you enthusiastically agreeing.

“It’s at the zoo at ten o’clock tomorrow morning,” Izana explained.

“You’re welcome,” Mikey added.

Shinichiro didn’t know what to do or say. It’s not like he could cancel the date because he didn’t want to seem like he wasn’t interested- he was very interested. He was just surprised you said yes.

So Shinichiro sucked it up and decided that he would make it the best date ever.

The next morning you both met up at the train station and made your way to the zoo. You were wearing a cute outfit and Shinichiro just put on a pair of nice jeans with a crisp white shirt that Emma insisted he ironed.

The date was going a lot smoother than Shinichiro thought it would go, much to his relief. You both laughed and joked as you went around to see the animals. There was even a point where you took the initiative and started holding his hand.

Finally, you suggested stopping somewhere for lunch which he agreed. You found a nice little restaurant and were currently waiting for your food.

“So is there a reason we’re being tailed by three kids wearing sunglasses, all pretending to read a newspaper?” You asked lowly out of nowhere, startling him.

Shinichiro furrowed his brows and you subtly nodded your head to the side, gesturing to a table not too far away. And sure enough, when he looked over he saw Mikey, Emma, and Izana sitting at the table, peeking over a big newspaper while wearing sunglasses. When they noticed they had been caught, they quickly ducked their heads behind the paper.

“They stick out like a sore thumb,” Shinichiro felt a wave of irritation as his eye twitched. They really don’t trust him to do anything, huh?

“I take it you know them?” You asked as you took a sip of your drink.

“Those are my siblings I was telling you about,” He replied with a huff.

“The ones that made your profile?” You tipped your lips up into a teasing smile, “And asked me out for you?”

Shinichiro buried his face in his hands and groaned, “Yes.”

You started giggling despite his distress.

“It’s not funny,” He whined, peeking at you through his fingers which made you laugh harder.

“It’s hilarious,” You responded, then when you gained some semblance of control, you grinned at him, “And actually really sweet. It just shows that they care about you.”

At this, Shinichiro lowered his hands, “You’re not weirded out?”

“Nah,” You shook your head, then you shrugged, “Do you wanna invite them to join us?”

“But what about our date?” He questioned.

“Do you want to spend the rest of our date being watched like zoo animals?” You countered, “Come on, it’ll be a nice bonding experience.”

Shinichiro felt a soft smile grow on his face, “You’re so cool.”

“I know,” You said sweetly.

And so you and Shinichiro invited the three teens to join you. They didn’t seem the slightest bit guilty for crashing your date as they immediately started asking you all sorts of questions to get to know you better. Shinichiro watched in fascination and adoration as you clicked with his siblings without hesitation.

They suggested going to the aquarium which was nearby and you walked with Shinichiro, holding his hand and laughing as Emma, Mikey, and Izana started pointing out fishes that they claimed looked like their older brother. Despite all the teasing, Shinichiro felt so grateful towards his younger siblings for meddling in his love life and leading him right to you.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers x reader #shinichiro x reader #shinchiro sano #sano shinichiro #x reader #fanfiction #flufftober #kace writes #shinichiro sano x reader #shinichiro sano fluff #shinichiro sano x y/n #tokrev

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ickadori · 10 months

Text

++ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

[summary] toji and his adorable son stop by the convenience store you work at for a few things and end up trashing the place instead.

[cws] none. sfw. gn reader. idk what this is tbh…

You look up from the book you had been engrossed in when a heavy thud sounds, the counter underneath your elbows shaking as someone sets something down.

“Hi, how are you doing today?” You greet on instinct, fingers sliding your bookmark between the pages before pushing it off to the side. You finally look up, eyes going from the hulking man sporting a compression shirt, to the toddler sitting atop his broad shoulders. The boy is a splitting image of, you’re assuming, his father, and you audibly coo at the way he rubs his eyes with his balled up fists and yawns.

“It’s just this.”

“Huh?” You glance down, taking note of the twelve pack of beer on the counter, along with the barrage of chips, cakes and sour candies. “Oh, alright. Would you like a bag?” You scan the first item, a bag of chips, and after he lets out a gruff ‘yes’, you load it into a plastic bag before going to ring up the rest.

“Give it.” You pause before you can drop the yellow cupcake into the bag, and your nose wrinkles as you drop it into the hand extended towards you. Rude much, you think to yourself, but you can’t hold onto your anger when you see the man rip open the packaging before passing the cake up towards the toddler, who’s eagerly making grabby hands and drooling onto the man’s hair. “Greedy brat.”

“Ba-ba.” The ‘brat’ says in response before he’s stuffing nearly the entire cake into his mouth, and you laugh to yourself when a few crumbs fall into the man’s hair.

After all of the snacks are scanned and bagged up, you move to the case of beer next, your eyes flicking up to the clearly of age man as you purse your lips. You think back to his attitude, and deciding that the night is slow enough to take your time and waste his, you let out a regretful sigh and fold your arms on top of the beer case.

“Sorry, Sir, but I’m gonna need to see some ID.” The man’s lips thins out into a thin line, his eyes cold as they stare you down, and you have to admit, begrudgingly, that he’s incredibly handsome. Too bad he seems like a real dick. “It’s policy. Corporate has really been cracking down on us about asking for ID’s with all these kids coming in and buying alcohol. I just don’t wanna get fired, y’know. My tuition isn’t gonna pay itself.”

“Tch.”

Heh.

He rifles in his pocket for his wallet, and when he pulls it out and cracks it open you nearly apologize and offer to cover the bill. He’s got a picture of his son in there, the little boy swaddled in a blue, fuzzy blanket while two puppies, one white and the other black, curl up on either side of him. How adorable!

“Here.” The ID is slid across the counter, and you pick it up and make a show of narrowing your eyes. Toji Fushiguro. You hum as you look it over, nodding your head and tapping at your chin, and you see Toji’s jaw tick out of your peripherals.

“Hm.” You place the ID back onto the counter and slide it back towards him. “Unfortunately, this is a fake and I cannot accept it.”

“Bullshit.”

“As a matter of fact, I think I should ban you from the store for trying to pull a fast one on me.”

“Stop fucking around. That’s a real ID.” The little boy has finished his cake, and has taken to eating the crumbs from his father’s hair. “Or are you too stupid to know a real from a fake? Might wanna double check the place you’re paying your tuition to, because they’re not teaching you shit.”

You gape for a second, eyes moving between him and the very impressionable child on his shoulders, before huffing out a breath. “What kind of example are you setting for your—is that a dog?” You lean to the side to get a better view of the fluff of white you just saw, and you blink at the dog that’s weaving between Toji’s legs. Is that… the dog from the picture! “It’s a dog!”

“Megumi.” Toji calls, and then he’s reaching his arms up to snag hold of the boy, now known as Megumi, and placing him on the floor. “The dogs don’t come out inside.” Megumi frowns and makes a show of crossing his arms, and you snicker under your breath, causing his attention to turn to you as he looks up.

He looks at you for a moment, and then he’s making a gesture with his hand, which Toji tries to smack away but is too late, and then something soft and fuzzy is brushing against your ankle. The sudden appearance of whatever that was (you were too frazzled to immediately check) punches a scream out of your lungs, and you flinch back, foot accidentally kicking against the thing that had touched you.

An angry bark sounds not even a second later, and the next few moments are nothing short of chaos.

Toji tries to grab the white dog only for it to take off down one of the aisles, jumping at shelves and knocking down everything in its path as it yaps happily. Finally looking down, you see that the black dog from the photo is at your feet —how the hell did behind the counter without you noticing— and growling at you, seemingly miffed about you stepping on them, as if you had meant to do it.

Thinking that you were about to lose a leg, you quickly clamber up onto the counter, prompting the dog to jump up there as well, but they ignore you completely in turn for joining their partner in crime in wrecking the store.

Toji stands in the same spot, Megumi standing off to the side with an expression that seems a bit too smug for a kid his age, and you deflate as you let your legs dangle from the counter, head drooping down until your chin is touching your chest. “Well, I’m fired.” And the pay had been decent, too!

When you look up again, the dogs are gone, the store is thoroughly trashed, and Toji is sipping on one of the beers that he’s yet to pay for. Feeling a bit doomed at the job search ahead of you, you hold your hand out to him. He glances at him and takes a slow sip before speaking.

“Got some ID?”

“Got some money to pay for all the damages your dogs just caused?”

He tuts, but a second later a can of beer is slapped into your hand and you’re cracking the top. You take a sip, face immediately screwing up at the taste, and eye him for a moment. “Hey, where do you work?”

“They’re not hiring.”

“Hmph.” After taking another sip that you hold your breath through, you push the bag of snacks and opened case of beer towards him. “Just take it and go.”

“Megumi.” Toji calls, and the little boy dashes to his side and lifts his arms. He’s picked up in one swift motion and placed back onto his dad’s shoulders, and you hum to yourself.

“One last question.”

Toji is already on his way out of the store as he throws a ‘what’ over his shoulder.

“Are you looking for a babysitter?”

#toji x reader #jjk x reader

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chxrrysangel · 1 year

Text

Night Visits

Eddie has been known to climb trees, especially ones that lead to a certain best friend’s bedroom window. He’s also been know to be quite skilled with his fingers.

Pairing | perv!eddie x (f) best friend!reader

Warnings | 18+ MINORS DNI, innocence kink, corruption kink, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, honorifics, Eddie talks a lot about cum idk, religious imagery, inexperienced!reader

Word count | let’s just say smedium for now

Technically Part One

Eddie took a short assessment of the large oak tree, testing its sturdy branches under his weight before making the climb. It seemed safe…enough. Tying up his hair into a makeshift ponytail, so as not to get caught in the bark, he made his ascend to your second story window. He thanked Ozzy for the barely there streetlights in your neighborhood, making it much easier to be stealthy without the watchful eye of passer-bys.

The soft glow of your bedside lamp illuminated your bedroom, reminding him of home. The lampshade created a shape akin to a halo over your features, which Eddie thought was quite fitting. He did the signature knock against the glass, alerting you to his presence. Your lips sported matching smiles as the window came up, letting in the cool breeze that carried Eddie’s signature scent. He smelled like evergreen trees, sandalwood, and weed if you stood close enough. And vanilla. His shampoo smelled like vanilla.

“Eds, it’s so late. What are you doing here?”

“I can’t come to see my favorite person?”, he retorts as he climbs through the window. His cow eyes scan your room, taking in the changes since the last time he was here. You plopped down onto your bed, watching him spin around.

“Now I didn’t say that. But it is a Saturday night, I’ve got church in the morning.” His mouth forms on ‘o’ shape in understanding. If there’s one thing you’ll commit to, it’s the church. It was quite endearing to him how devout you are, which made his plans for you all the more enticing.

“Then I guess we’ll just have to make this a sleepover,” he grins knowingly, mischief evident in his tone.

His eyes glance over to your purple alarm clock, noting the time. 11:43 pm. He makes himself comfortable beside you on the bed, inching closer every so often. You try to ignore him, attempting to focus on the book you were reading. At least it worked a little bit, until you felt a ghostly fingertip creep up your bare thigh.

“Yes, Eddie? Can I help you?” He looked almost angelic, if it weren’t for the hunger in his eyes.

“No. Not at all, sweetheart. Keep reading, don’t mind me.”

Except now you couldn’t. The words on the page blurred while you felt his fingertips move further up your legs. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears, nerves getting the best of you.

“You know I’ve been thinking about that night every day since?”, your best friend confessed.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, working up the courage to look him in the eye.

“Yeah?”

Your voice was just barely above a whisper, unable to speak louder for fear of it cracking. His fingertips didn’t stop dancing along your inner thigh, making it rather hard to focus. He nodded, hunger in his eyes still.

“You look like you wanna eat me, Eds.” He smiled sweetly, a stark contrast to the thoughts running through his head.

“Trust me, I want to.” He leaned in close, whispering the words in your ear.

His hand gripped the hem of your shorts, pulling lightly. He was a tease and he knew that. But the way your pupils dilated with need at every touch made it all worth torturing you.

“Do you wanna do what we did again?” You nodded fervently, not caring if you came on too strong. Eddie liked that about you, how eager you were. It was…sweet. Eddie bypassed the hem of your shorts, feeling for the wet spot on your underwear he knew would be present. The metalhead m smiled to himself, enjoying how easily you become putty in his hands. Slowly he dragged his fingertips over your slit, rubbing your clit through the thin material. He watched your hips push against his hand, making him chuckle quietly.

“You like when I do that, yeah?” Something akin to a yes was muttered under your breath, too focused on the circling of his fingers. You were almost too cute to corrupt. Almost.

“More, Eddie. More.” Now who was Eddie to deny you? He peppered soft kisses across your bare shoulders and collarbones before making his way down the length of your body. Just the thought of what he was about to do to you made his cock leak.

~~~

Your sex glistened in the soft light, wet with arousal. Eddie tried not to stare but fuck, he thought, you had such a pretty pussy. He glanced at you from the foot of the bed, taking notice of your shallow breathing and wet lips. Such a needy girl, he thought. Not breaking eye contact, he flattened his tongue to lick a stripe up to your clit.

The feeling was unfamiliar, but so good.

Eddie pulled your body closer to his face, forcing your thighs to spread. He started off slow, tongue meticulous but forceful. Eventually the novelty wore off, giving way to pleasure when your hips began to push towards his face of their own accord. He was like a starved man, sucking on your clit as though your body could provide all the sustenance needed to survive.

Your wetness dripped down his chin, covering his pink lips in a light sheen. It was absolutely sinful. A particularly strong motion forced a deep guttural moan from the back of your throat, perhaps too loud to be lied away if you were caught. Eddie stopped, eyes darting towards you with a certain dominance.

“Pretty girl, I know I know. But I need you to be quiet. Don’t wanna get caught now do you?”. His voice was stern enough to make you cower if it weren’t for the most charming grin you’d ever seen on his lips. It softened the blow some, but the message received.

His middle finger prodded against your entrance before slowly slipping in, meeting almost no resistance. He watched your eyes roll back, biting your lips to soften the mewls he pulled from your lips with every pump.

Eddie didn’t believe in god, but watching your precious innocence unravel as he fingered your pussy was something of an angel. He went back to lay between your thighs, teeth grazing across your clit and sucking up your juices. He chuckled lowly to himself, enjoying the way your hips met his stroking fingers to chase your orgasm.

“Eddie, please,” you begged stuttering on his name. He cooed, shushing and telling you to be good for him. Your walls fluttered around his fingers, squeezing in a way that hinted you were close. Your shallow breaths increased in frequency, feeling the tightness of an upcoming orgasm. It was just like before, only now you kind of knew what was to come. You chanted your best friend’s name into your pillow, trying your best to keep quiet but hardly being successful.

“That’s it princess, cum for me. I know you can do it.” Eddie’s praises did little to help your self control, which he realized with the way your walls fluttered at every new nickname. He watched intently as you came, not stopping his attack on your clit as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

“That’s my girl.” Slowly he pulled his fingers out, nearly cumming in his pants when his ears picked up on your soft whines. Eddie wished he had a camera in this moment, the entire scene at play worthy of being recorded. From the post-orgasm sheen on your skin and puffy bitten lips, to the slick on his fingers, he was convinced this was his haven.

Eddie sucked on his digits, relishing in the way you tasted. You were so cute like this, fucked out and he’d barely done a thing to you. Your head was clearly somewhere else, drifting while you came down back to Earth. Eddie’s erection strained against his jeans, something he would take care of at a later time. Or now, with you watching. The thought alone almost made him cum right then and there.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #perv!eddie #eddie munson x best friend reader

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blueparadis · 2 years

Note

Hi! I love your writing :)

If you have the time/are interested can yo make TR Mikey x reader smut with Mikey realizing reader is a virgin right before their first time? Either he believed gossips or the reader teases a lot or something. Whatever you cook up if you decide to do this, I am sure I will love it :)

Have a nice day

—

Thank you >:)) okay. this was very precise but idk why it confused me. I did my best tho. I love him sm. I'm always excited to write on him >^< hope you love it too <33

STAY WITH ME ; MANJIRO SANO !

୨ content & tags ୧ ~ f!reader, mafia au, mention of brothels, arrange marriage, virginity k!nk, ( domestic ) fluff, f1nger1ng, orgasm control, kisses and soft love making, very light corruption k!nk, teasing, he is a big softie here. word count — 2kish + blog navigation.

“You know about this ?”, Draken throws the newspaper in front of Manjiro who is deeply staring at his knuckles and his rings, sitting on a bar stool holding a drink with his non-dominant hand.

“They made it public. Were you aware of this? . . . ”Draken continues in a harsh tone with his eyebrows furrowing further as Manjiro keeps him playing with a ring, juggling it in between his fingers. “Mi-key, you know what this means right? The wedding is gonna happen in a week or . . .”

“Shin told me that we're going to visit them. Tomorrow. So, I figured . . .”

“You figured what? Y/N is practically in the front page with massive headlines and. . . ” Manjiro grabs the news paper instantly looking at the photo of her. She is walking out of a shop in a one-piece dress that reveals much of her body curves, beautifully, he must add. And except the chauffeur, there is no sign of a bodyguard. How dare he! That scoundrel.

Moreover, it's been almost a year since he saw her or it would be more accurate to say that he was forbidden to see her, meet her, talk to her. The only thread of communication he had with her was occasional gifts, though it was more of a bridging alliance with her father than wooing her.

“We’re leaving.”He rushes out of their private bar,“Now. And Inform Haruchiyo. He is coming with us.”

“What? ”, Draken gasped. “But Shinichiro -san ”

“Didn't you want me to take action? This is me taking action . . . for her. ”

“Ahhh, fuck it.”

Manjiro wasn't angry. He was furious, furious that his fiancee is roaming around the town without any sort of protection. He has been humbling himself since the day this bond was sealed. He had stopped going to whore house, bringing girls in his house or even going to a bar with Izana. The day this marriage was confirmed, he knew he had to cut off all these (bad) habits once she is under same room with him.

She was sent to study abroad, right after the meeting. Manjiro would have easily continued his lavish acts but he was told to behave, told to be prepared for her. And now that she is back, Manjiro was supposed to court her, take care of her, and get rid of the childish awkwardness of a newly married couple. Who knows what happened abroad? She might have been deflowered or . . .

“Woah. What a good day it is . . .”, Y/N’s father rose up folding the newspaper and keeping it on the tea table as he saw three men approaching in his way. Manjiro Sano, Ken Ryuguji and Sanzu Haruchiyo. Of course, they had no trouble with the security.

Without greeting Manjiro walked in to the house, he was determined to meet her. Draken stopped y/n's father with his hand while his lips started to work. “Nah... Shiba-san .... When did y/n got back? We came here immediately as soon as we saw her... in the headlines” Haruchiyo stood beside the man with his eyes on the ground, hands tucked behind at the valley of his waist.

Manjiro smiled to himself as he heard Draken making the small talk. Ah! Geez. He never changes. His eyes scanned the hall. Not a soul was there, not even a servant. He heard quick footsteps cascading down the stairs, his heartbeats escalated, breathing became faster, hands crawling inside the pocket of his slacks. . .“Ahrey. . . Isn't it yuzuha? ”

She cocked her head to a side exclaiming in a bored tone. “Hakkai and Taiju are busy at the restaurant. I'm sure you know why”

“I’m not here for them” Yuzuha couldn't help but smile at his confession.

“She is in her room. Up-stairs. Right - wing. Last room with balcony.” Manjiro was already walking as he bowed his head to give his utmost thanks to her.

He stood in front of the door for a minute thinking now what? He hasn't prepared shit to say and he certainly doesn't want to scare her. Last meeting was . . . he was quite hard on her. He knocked, three times and waited. Within five seconds he saw y/n opening the door with so much zeal in her eyes.

“You should always ask. . . Who is it? Before opening the door.”, Manjiro quipped walking into the room and closing the door behind, without turning so as to keep his eyes on her.

“Are you not surprised to see me? ”

“Yuzuu texted.”, that girl always had a knack for enacting tit-for-tat whenever there was an opening.

“So, within a week. . . You'll have to stay. . . ”

“Stay with you, share bed with you, obey you. . . Yeah, yeah I know” God! What did they do to her? Last time when Manjiro saw her she had no fire in her eyes, no fight in her soul. What exactly happened at abroad?

“I wasn't going to say that but i guess that sums up. Here”, he kept a strip of medicines. “You will have these. I want you to be prepared for our wedding night. Start from today.” Part of her knew what those pills did, while part of her wanted to ask, to hear through his voice. How fucking rude! No gifts, no talk straight to sex.

The wedding day was lustrous and full of happiness. Just for a day, everyone in the Shiba family set aside there differences to make you smile. Yuzuha complained a little about how she is gonna be lonely without her sister and claimed she is gonna visit her soon but Manjiro brushed it off.

“You’re drinking too much. . . Is the crowd making you nervous? Do you want to go inside? Is the food too spicy? ”

Manjiro was kind even for a man who belonged to the obsidian world of blood-bath. His attention was focused on her, her tone of talking, body language. He cannot wait to just have her, share bed with her and fuck her in all positions known to a man, fuck her till all she remembers is his name, till she reeks of him, thinks of him and only him.

He entered the room an hour later than her. By the time she already had changed clothes and was under the covers laying down and thinking about the marriage, this marriage that was mere an alliance and she was just a peace offering.

“Y/N, you still awake?”Manjiro asked coming out of the bathroom and standing near the edge of the bed. The light of night lamp was perfectly falling on her face as she turned around to face him. Manjiro’s heart dropped at the pit of his stomach, cock twitched as her body peeked from under the covers.

“Are you tired?”, he asked leaning over her as he tucked the loose hair strands behind her ear. She nodded and sat upright. He was now sharing the same cover as her, cock growing, eyes glinting in lust and heart pounding amongst his rib cage. He cupped her face so as she would meet his eyes but she jerked his hands off instantaneously, jumping out of the bed and making some distance between them.

“Don’t”

“Why? Did i do something wrong? Something that hurt you? ”

“No but . . .” “I didn't take pills.”

Manjiro got out of bed and strolled towards her. She backed away. He could see her shaky hands, he swallowed and looked away. “Do i scare you, Y/N?”

“No.” There was silence for a few seconds since Manjiro did not know what to do, what to say. He wasn't ready to have babies, not yet. And, now he can't even fuck her raw and he would hate to wear condom on his wedding night. He always used protection while visiting brothels even though he knew all the girls were clean.

“I. . . I want . . . I need time”, she breathed out. Manjiro’s eyebrows jumped since an entirely different fact dawned on him. Could it be. . . she is. . .?

“Are. . .” he cleared his throat. “Are you still a virgin ?”

“What do you mean still?” , she thought.

“umm-hmm” He raked his fingers through his pitch-black hair revealing his dragon tattoo as her feeble umm-hmm echoed in his head. She is a virgin, that is, he is going to be her first, probably for everything. Honestly, he wouldn't have minded if it were opposite since he was dry for almost an year and now had to keep himself under control. Great. He is truly fucked.

“Do you trust me, y/n ?”

“I can try ”

Manjiro laid out his hand in front of her. She hesitated at first but the moment she kept her palm over his, Manjiro lowered his head to kiss her knuckles. As soon as he raised his head, he pulled her against his body wrapping his other hand around her waist. Her body felt warm,less shaky as he felt her nose grazing against his chest muscles.

“So, you're saying that. . .”, he earned her stares on him as he spoke further. “No one was handsome enough for your taste ?”

“It was a all - girls college.”

“Uhhh-Hahh!” , Manjiro lips tugged up. “And they didn't tell you about anything? What actually happens during wedding night? When they came to know about our marriage.”

“I wasn't supposed to talk about my life, this life to them. I made friends. They were nice but i missed home.” Manjiro was taken aback by her ways for two reasons; one : she wasn't afraid of him like others, two: she was innocent but not naive, a little brave he might add.

“Y/N ?”

“Hmm?”

And when she peered up Manjiro pressed his lips against her cheeks just at the corner of her lips without a second thought. He has fucked enough girls to know a woman's weak spots but this felt out of syllabus. He guided her hands over his shoulders as his lips proceeded along her neckline. Manjiro bucked his hips , pressed his hard on against her entrance earning a loud gasp with her hands locking around his nape. Bingo.

Manjiro swiftly pushed her on to the bed. He stood looking at her while she panted vigorously. He discarded his upper clothing, crawling on top her. His head dipped while she leaned in, lips slightly parted awaiting for his kiss. But Manjiro’s lithe fingers worked on the buttons of her night dress. “What? You thought I was gonna kiss you. . . on your lips. You asked for time, remember?”

But immediately Manjiro’s lips were silenced by a kiss. Dry, short-lived and quick. His hands were still on undoing the buttons Manjiro couldn't help but grin.

“Is that you call a kiss? ”one of his hands travelled underneath her thin night gown, way up to her vagina. His fingers penetrated her at the same time his lips dashed on hers. Manjiro wasn't in mood to hold back because her body was eager. She was just a little afraid and by her desperate hold on his arms, Manjiro could tell she was loving it.

He explored her lips and kissed as deep as he could. “That is ... What you call a kiss.”, he whispered against her lips before pecking her cheeks. He added one more finger and quickened his pace, hitting her spot, watching her eyes blanking out, her grips growing stronger on his arms, body squirming underneath his. Her hips reflexively bucked up as orgasm washed over her body.

“Good girl. ”, he hummed as he rolled beside her giving space to breath licking his fingers shamelesly.

@tokyometronetwork

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prettymrswright · 1 year

Text

private project

pairing: shuri x black!fem!scientist reader

content: fluff, smut!(18+), m@sturb@ting, s3x!toy, oral (both receiving), strap, f!ngering, crying, begging, dirty talking, slight humiliation, praising, pillow!princess/bratty reader, soft-dom!shuri, reader is a shy, timid, obedient, madly in love, (DOWN BAD), pillow princess, shuri is an oblivious brainiac.

background: for the couple years you had been working for the scientist, you’ve been crazy about her. you were such a shy and nervous wreck, that you didn’t know what to do about it. in all your desire, you decide to make a personal ‘project’ in the very lab you were taught everything you know, by her. although you intended for it to be forever a secret, it didn’t quite pan out that way. an: wheeeew, baby!! i thought about this this morning, half sleep, and ideas was just flowing, idk why my whore brain was on this morning but let's just roll with it! as usual, i hope this satisfied y'all lul slutty hearts & taglist sign up pinned to my page! @dejaonline @inmyheadimobsessed @vampzxi @venusdraco @shuriszn @shurislover @vixentheplanet @pinkwright @saintwrld @abenomeiiii @ventingfanfics @msplayas @naomis-daydream @sapphicvqmpires @tishsrealwife @6-noir @pocketsizedpanther ꨄ︎

2 years. You had officially been working for the Royal Udaku family for 2 years, and never would it get old for you. Since you were a young girl, you dreamt of making powerful creations and using them to change the world around you for the greater good. It was no doubt, you had a burning passion for science, not to mention, you were damn good at it. But you also had to admit, it felt good to be in a space among other legends, utilizing those skills right next to them. Especially Shuri. Shuri Udaku was a sight to see; in more ways than one. She had such an astute-being of a brain, and beautiful heart to match. She could arrive at any and every solution for every situation and apply it with ease. And although she may think she's such a tough-guy, she had the most caring heart. She treated all of her team as family, just as she would her mom or her brother. You were always taken care of. And as one side of you was admiring under terms of wanting to uphold such a stellar stature yourself, the other one was admiring in desperate need to be desired by someone of that same stature. No one got Shuri how you did. There was nothing she could hide from you. Your burning desire for her and her love and affection made the most meniscal details unavoidable. She hated that you could read her that way. But you cared so deeply for her. All you wanted was for her to be happy. And for her to be happy, with you.

Out of all the ways you could read her, romantic aspects were a code you just could not crack. You weren't even sure what she was into, or better yet, who. She was so buried in work and royalty duties, any emotional cards she had were held very close to her chest.

Each day that went by, watching her work sun up to sun down in her lab, you yearned to know how her hand would feel intertwined with yours. How her lips would feel, leaving deep, soft kisses on your lips, on your neck, down your chest. How her fingers would slowly trace across your hips, the circumference between the inside of your thighs, and eventually plunge deep inside your canal, pumping your g-spot until y-- "Y/N." Shuri called out to you, breaking you out of your fantasy of a trance. You quickly jumped up, straightening yourself out, and lifting your chin from your palm, where it previously rested. "Yes, princess?" You responded, eagerly awaiting whatever she had to ask or tell. "Have you made any progress on finishing Project-3280?" She walked up to you, looking down at the paper work she had in her hand, before looking up, scanning your facial expression for an answer. "Yes, princess." You answered proudly, curing her wonder. She lowly chuckled aloud, causing you to furrow your eyebrows, curious as to what about what you said was amusing. "Do you say anything other than 'Yes, princess'?" Your lashes fluttered as you scanned for the words to say, ultimately standing blankly, no words of response to be found.

"I told you, you work with me, not for me. You can speak regularly with me." She says in sincerity, holding the eye-contact, once again making your knees buckle at her commanding nature. "Yes, Pri--" You began before catching yourself in the very correction you were just given. Shuri raised her eyebrows, catching you as well, non-verbally. "I-I mean, okay, Shuri, yea. Got it." She chuckled again once more to herself before we walking off the clean the board she had previously been doing all her calculations on. You sat back on the high chair that stood behind the lab table you were at, scanning her from afar. Your eyes followed her slim frame from bottom-to-top, tracing the tattoo that resided up the side of her neck, to her sharp jaw, and her side profile. You bleakly counted the strands of hair on her head from the undercut, all the way to the curly top. You watched her slim, veined hands as they traveled quickly across the board in a wax-on, wax-off motion. You took note of how firmly they gripped the cloth right in their middle. You couldn't help but to trail your thoughts off into those hands gripping you that way. "Oh, fuck," You breathe out in a whisper, crossing your legs and nibbling at the end of your grey BIC pen. You continued to squirm in your seat as you watched sweat drip down the back of her neck, disappearing into the cloth of her lab coat. "Is it hot in here, to you, Y/N?" She asked, looking back at you. You shrugged your shoulders, quickly flicking your hands up at your side in a fake 'unsure' motion. It was definitely hot in there, but that was purposeful on your part. You had turned off the AC, knowing you'd be in here alone with her. It was just so captivating seeing her move and work so diligently that she would perspire and drip everywhere. You’d love to see those droplets falling from the hard work of another activity, with your assistance of course.

She wiped her forehead dry before pulling up her sleeves and walking back over to you. She was always finding ways to show and expose her hands and her arms. Almost like she knew those very things turned you on. You yourself would like to show her something.

“Okay, I’m ready. Show me what you got,” she rubs her hands together, in eagerness and excitement.

You almost choked on the saliva resting on the back of your tongue.

“I’m sorry?” You ask, taken aback by her statement, not sure if you heard what you thought you did.

“The project,” She pointed down towards the file folders you had right in front of you.

“Oh,” You reply, feeling silly for thinking she was referring to anything else.

You hand her the files, and she flips through them, carefully and attentively reading through each diagram.

You could feel your violently pulsating heart drop into your stomach and join the band of disruption that was previously keeping a concert in there. You had worked fairly hard on this project, and you wanted it to be perfect. More than anything you wanted her to approve. Your nerves began to worsen as you couldn’t pinpoint a reaction of satisfaction nor disapproval.

After what felt like an eternity of silence and confusion, Shuri finally rested the papers on the table and looked at you, a smile slowly creeping onto her face.

“I have to say, I am very impressed, Miss Y/N.” The band of disruption in your stomach finally dismembered, and was replaced with a symphony of butterflies. “Your technique is flawless. It must’ve took you ages to decode this.”

You tried to conceal your proud smile and your flushed cheeks, and failed terribly.

“Only took me 3 days.”

Shuri eyes widened, in an even more impressed state. “You’re joking, surely. It took me 3 weeks during my junior program! Let me find out you’re trying to replace me.” She teased, nudging your shoulder, slightly pushing.

You bit down on your teeth, flexing your jaw, fighting the moan that almost escaped from the sudden contact.

“You could never be replaced, Princess.” You say, more directly that you would’ve liked to. Your faces were separated merely by a foot. The eye-contact between the two of you lingered, until broken by a gaze at your lips, given by Shuri. She glanced back up at your eyes before giving you a smile, sending you a wink, and getting up to finally make her exit out of the room.

Your rivers were flowing so potently, you could slip right out of your chair. She was always so reassuring. Attentive. Gentle. With every word and every action towards you. You wanted to believe she moved that way with you intentionally, simultaneously trying not succumb to injuries of your delusion. With that note, you decided to go back to your quarter and wash off the day. You'd been working exceptionally hard all week, especially today, being that you woke particularly early to put your last finishes touches on the project. It didn't need anymore altering, honestly, but the pressures of wanting to impress the Princess had definitely took over. As you approach your room, you place your palm on the panel beside your door, allowing it to scan your prints for access. You waste no time kicking off your shoes and peeling your clothes off your body, stockings, lab coat and all, letting it drop to the ground and immediately heading to the bathroom to start a hot shower.

ꨄ︎

You lay your towel across you bed and lay on it, not yet ready to have your freedom restricted by fabric. As you lay, you smile to yourself, overcome with gratitude that Shuri approved of your work. To tell the truth, the only reason you completed the project so fast was so that you could get back to your own. A personal project. You felt sort of guilty using the labs specific resources to make such a perverted creation, but you were dying to know how it felt. How it could feel. How she felt. Invading your walls, breaking them down & making you beg for her to repair them, just to break them down again.

As those feelings that were all too familiar began to rise, you decided to put its effectiveness to the test. You reach over to the dresser drawer beside you & open it, pulling out the gadget.

It was a 256T information-stored sex-toy. It may have looked like a regular, fancy-designed vibrating dildo, but stored inside was recollection of every memory of every encounter the two of you shared. The first glance, the first conversation, every accidental bump, nudge, & shoulder brush. Every piece of eye-contact delivered, every advised direction given.

Nervous, yet excited, you let out a hefty breath, shut your eyes, and held the tool up to your pair of lips, which were currently aching at the hands of desire. One click, and off it was set. Soon as the device made contact with your skin, off into imaginal bliss you went.

“Mm,” You moaned at the sensation. It started off as a soft, comforting vibration, and as the memories built, so did the intensity.

“Exceptional work. Welcome to the team.”

“Thank you so much, Princess. I’m beyond grateful.”

“Please, call me Shuri. What should I call you?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” She smiled. Oh god, that smile. “A name fit for a scientist.”

“Oh, fuck,” Your chest began to heave up and down, as you chased the breath escaping from your lungs and out of your mouth.

“Alright team, let’s get a hold on these mission plans.”

“I don’t understand why we can’t just corner the sucker and blow him up with one of those kick-ass Wakandan canons.” A red head boy with circular specs blurted out.

“Would anybody like to tell me why that wouldn’t work?”

“He’d move so fast he’d dodge the blow?” Another scientist blurts out. Shuri closes her eyes and shakes her head in disapproval of the answer.

“He’s the under lord of the sea. He’d drown the surface area and blow out the canon circuit b-before it could even charge up.” You say semi-confidently.

Shuri’s eyes shoot up open and dart in your direction. “Bingo.” she says with a smile. “You’ve been paying attention. Good girl.”

“Ugh, yes!” You cry out. “I’m your good girl.”

Puzzled, frazzled & slightly confused, you stumbled in Shuri’s office, desperately in need of her guidance. You knock and the door slides open.

“Shuri?” You walk in, taking in the scenery, forgetting how beautiful her office really was. You take a minute to scan the ceilings, the walls, all of its intricate design. She had great taste. Walking backwards, you trip over the rug that ran from underneath her desk.

“Oh—!” You began to fall backwards, when your fall is stopped and barricaded by a pair of strong but steady hands, clamped around your waist.

“You’re good, I got you, I got you,” Soft, affirming words entered your ear canal in a slight whisper, coming from a velvety voice you oh-so-loved. It was quickly followed by a low chuckle that sent a riveting chill down your spine.

“Do you always walk backwards and not look where you're going?”

“Oh, Shuri,” your voice began to carry louder and farther. You couldn’t be more grateful for these sound-proof walls, because you were about to let it all go.

Your body began to vibrate under the pressure, and your juices began to coat around the circumference of the tool.

When you realized you stumbled into her arms, you began to get flustered, stealing a response from both your lips and your brain.

“I’m just messing with you. But what’s up, you okay?”

“I just— I”

“What is it, Y/N, what do you need from me? Let me help you.”

“Fuckkk, Shuri, just fuck me already, please!” You desperately buck yourself up against the toy, in attempts to fully immerse into your fantasy world. Your eyes began to flutter right to the back of your eyelids as one of your hands violently gripped the sheets beneath you. This is the closest you've ever gotten to feeling her and if you weren't so overcome by bliss right now, you'd be hella impressed at its successful function. On other side, a lengthy pair of footsteps paced by your door, alarmed, yet intrigued by the sounds emerging from your room. Shuri had been passing your floor, on her way back to her office, when the sound of your voice in what sounded like pleas stopped her in her tracks. She leaned her ear up against your door, making sure she didn't hear what she thought she was hearing. "You feel so good inside me, Shuri, fuck." Her body immediately heated up at the melodic sounds of your moans, but her heart dropped to the ground when she heard her own name attached to those lewd things you were saying. "Y-Y/N?" Your name fell faint from her lips as she tried to circle in on her own confusion. "Fuck, I'm cumming for you, Princess." You began to make a sloppy, slippery mess as you pumped the toy inside of you, sloshing around all your juices, pushing your orgasm way past your regular limits. "Fuck," Shuri sighed out a frustrated breath, mood switched from confused to turned on. Is this what you did in your free time? Is that what you really wanted? Losing the battle to her impulsive thoughts, she placed her palm on the dual-accessed panel and let herself in. She quietly leaned back on the wall, watching you from across the room, with intent. She watched your sexy frame fluidly squirm around in its place, riding out all its sensations. A smirk creeped across her face, compliments of her new feelings of arousal and her now enlarged ego. Her entrance was so silent, so swift, you continued your pleasuring without noticing the invasion. You sent yourself over the edge, imagining her tall, slim figure, hovering over you, working your body out, kissing across your jaw, whispering commands in your ear. Tell me it's mine. "It's yours, Shuri," Your eyes began to flood with tears, clouding your vision even with slightly cracked open eyelids. "It's all yours, baby." "You mean that?" You hear that familiar voice project itself from across the room, and somehow, even through all your deluded fantasy, you realized how real it sounded. Too real. You opened your eyes and were met with the pair of chocolate brown eyes you so often got lost in, but this time, they were shadowed with lust. You jumped so high, you could've jolted right out of your skin. "Shit!" You sat up, fighting to catch your breath, partially from all the work you had be exerting, partially from the jumpscare you had just encountered. "Shuri, what the fuck are you doing in here?" You grabbed your towel quickly from underneath your body and wrapped it around your naked figure. Her eyes widened, and she threw her hands up in defeat, shocked at your choice of words. She had never heard you speak so profanely. "Well, it kind of sounded like you wanted me in here just a second ago." She replied with her sarcasm and razor-sharp wit, slowly walking towards the edge of your bed, a hand behind her back. You nervously swallowed, fighting to coat your now dry throat, backing up further into your headboard. "I don't understand, H-how did you--" Shuri took her closed fist from behind her hand, lowering it and opening it, showing the kimoyo-bead you had left on the wall during your daily spy on Shuri's studies. Realizing what you had done, you were so embarrassed you could disintegrate right into the ground. "Your eavesdropping has failed you, today, Miss Y/N." In this moment, you wish you could disappear. Not only did you just get caught touching yourself aloud to the thought of your boss, you got caught eavesdropping as well.

How could you slip like this? I mean, after all, you had your secret admiration games down to a science, no pun intended. It was only one thing left to do.

“I-I’m so sorry. I had no intent of disrespecting you or your home like this. I’ll be out of here by dawn.” Each word you uttered cut through you like glass. The pain of having to resign from your dream job & possibly tainting whatever upstanding image the love of your life had of you all because you couldn’t control your sexual urges was enough to crush you.

Before you could lift up to collect your belongings, The Princess held a hand out to stop you.

“Nonsense.” She rises to her feet, staring down at you with a glare you can’t recall seeing before. It was demanding, but not condescending. It was almost, dare you say, an eagerness. "I just wish you would've told me sooner." She says, all seriousness in her tone of voice. "We could've solved this a long time ago." You could hear your heartbeat thumping, directly through your eardrum. The subtle implication spun your mind in every which direction. You didn't want to assume, but if she meant what you thought she did, this would change everything as you knew it. "What are you saying?" You decided to play dumb. You knew what she was getting it, you just needed to hear her say it. "I'm saying," She pulled you by your hips, down to the edge of the bed, causing you to gasp from sudden movement, and hovered over you, grounding both hands at each of your sides. "If you needed some loving from the Princess, I would've happily obliged." As turned on as you were, you couldn't hide the look of shock on your face. You had to be dreaming. "Don't act surprised. I'm like a baby around you. I can't even focus when you're around." You melted underneath her at her confession. All these burning desires and you could've had it with little to no effort. Silently you were cursing your shy and awkward nature. "Bullshit." Your shocked expression grew into a flirtatious smile. You were beaming inside, but you couldn't help to tug a little more. Shuri lowered herself to your lips and crashed into them with her own. Her tongue swiped across your lip asking for permission of entrance, and you accepted. You placed your hands and the sides of her jaw, deepening the passionate kiss between you two. You both moaned in each other's mouth, overwhelmed by the intensity. The heat between your bodies began to generate just like a furnace. You've never felt so much passionate energy before this very moment in your life. After what felt like minutes she finally pulled back from you. "I can give you exactly what you need." She said, staring directly in your eyes, careful not to leave any room for doubt. "But you gotta ask me." You could crawl into a ball and disappear. You were too much of a nervous wreck for this. Ask her? Were your cries and pleas heard from the other side of the door not enough? Truth be told, you wanted her so bad, you were wiling to do anything. You were so stuck in awe, it would take a minute for you to even be able to register the moment. "Come on, baby." She cooed, attempting to coax you out of your silence. "You were so vocal before. I know you know how to use that pretty mouth." You shivered at her forwardness and a moan involuntarily slipped out of your mouth, once again stroking her ego. "Shuri, please," You whined, making an attempt of getting out of the humiliation. "Please?" She mockingly raised her eyebrows, waiting for you to cave. "Please, fuck me. I need it, I need you." You managed to spill out. It was no turning back now. A warm yet sinister smile graced the royal's face. "Now, was that so hard?" She came up from over you, pulling you up with a firm but gentle squeeze around your throat. She pecked your lips a few times more before releasing her grip. "I'll do you one better." Curious to what she was referring to, you could feel the blood rushing through your veins. This was so unpredictable, she was so unpredictable. But it excited you. She took off her coat and her shirt, only being left in a crisp, white tank, bra-less. Though you wouldn't expect that from her, you weren't complaining. The more she revealed, the more beautiful she became. You could see the definition in her figure. You decide to help her undress, unbuckling her slacks and peeling them down to her knees. You reach for her boxers and she pops your hand. "Someone's a little excited, then?" It was so much teasing being given by her, and as much as it pissed you off, secretly it fueled your fire. She hopped up off the bed, slipping out her pants fully before hoisting you up by your lower back, sitting you on her hips.

You wrap your arms around her neck and tighten the grip of your legs around her waist.

She walks you over to the long, metal table you do all your procedures on, currently covered by a tablecloth and all your tubes & tools.

“You’re done with this. Right?” She takes the cloth and roughly yanks it off the table, knocking everything over, even breaking some things.

“Shuri! What the hell!” You nudge her shoulder in complete shock.

“I’ll replace it, don’t worry.” She lowers the table and lowers you down on your back, gently, making you arch and hiss from the contact of the cold metal.

She then begans leaving soft sensual kisses behind your ear, down to your neck and across your chest, while massaging your outer thigh.

You exhaled in attempt to relax, feeling like you were floating from the touch you so badly craved from her. It was like taking a hit of your first drug. Every touch left you feeling waves of intoxication. And there was no sobering up.

“Is this okay?” She asked looking up you for reassurance.

Through glossy eyes and a bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you nodded.

She continued her trail of kisses, traveling lower and lower, until eventually she made it to your promised land.

“Well, how pretty is she?” She asked rhetorically, gliding her two fingers across your clit, purposefully making a connecting line from your heat to her lips.

“Mm,” She moaned. “And tastes as good as she looks.”

Now impatient, you hooked your ankle over her shoulder and pulled her closer to you, leaving her centimeters from your dripping sex.

“Stop fuckin’ around, Shuri.”

“Oh?” She pretends to be taken aback. “I don’t know if I like your attitude. You waited 2 years, you could wait 2 more minutes, can’t you baby?”

She spread your lips open, exposing your pulsing and fully erect hood. Harshly, she spat on it, watching it drip down between your folds.

“Shhhit,” You moan out, dually in pleasure and in agony of this push and pull game. “No, no I can’t, please.”

“Plea—“ She began to mock you again and you interrupted before she could even continue. You no longer wanted to repeat yourself, so you give in.

“Please, just put your mouth on it, please, I’m fucking dripping,” Exclamation and grit all throughout your voice. Without hesitation she attaches her lips to your aching middle, and deeply french kisses it.

“Yes!” You cry out, grabbing onto the sides of the table for some sort of control. “Just like that.”

Moaning from your flavors, she hums, sending vibrations all through you. She alternates between soft and rough sucks, using your button as a pacifier. Her tongue spoke all 5 languages of love, making every reaction you give and sound you make a translator.

“Fuck, baby, you do it so well,” You were spitting out endless praise, overwhelmed by the pleasure you were feeling.

Pleased by your praise, she locks your thighs in place with her forearms, and flatten her tongues against you & rocks it up and down your center. You could feel every warm sensation, every round tastebud wrapping you up into a blissful embrace.

You lean up on your forearms and watch her every move with a dropped jaw and a set of furrowed brows, in dire need of catching this moment. You had the most beautiful, astounding, most talented girl giving you intense pleasure that she herself had be thinking of doing.

You felt your stomach begin to form knots, a clear indicator of the rise of your climax.

“Shuri I’m about to..to” You could barely get the words out, but even still, she wasn’t ready for you to just yet.

“Mm, mm.” She refused, coming up quickly. “Not yet.”

Before you knew it, she had pushed two fingers deep inside you, immediately reattaching her lips to you. With a steady rhythm she pumped in and out of you while attacking your clit with her tongue. She hungrily stared into your eyes until yours decided to make a detour into the back of your head.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Tears began forming again. “I can’t!”

You grabbed a handful of her curls and tugged them backwards, and instead of it holding her back, her grip became even stronger. She quickly replaced her fingers with her tongue and began fucking you with it, gripping your hips and knocking you into her. Your warm, soft juices coated the entire circumference of her mouth and then some.

You couldn’t control your moans nor the volume of them as you blurted out broken whimpers and your body began to shake. You released into her mouth and with one last peck, she thanked you.

“You did so good for me, Angel.” With enamored eyes you grab her by her neck, roughly kissing her and cleaning yourself from off her lips and her face.

“Come here,” To her command, you move over to her as she straps up. She picks you back up, making you airborne once more, and holds you up by your cheeks before sliding her length into you.

“Fuck!” Immediately you fall weak, legs giving out as soon as your walls were accompanied.

“It’s okay baby, you’re okay. Hold onto me,” She instructed you and you wrapped your arms around her neck with no sign of letting go.

Her slim, & veiny hands lifted you up and slid you back into her, primarily slow and steady. Each pump given to you was at a pace faster than the last. She was buried so deep inside you, your vaginal walls began to twitch, and the way she had you restricted, there was no way to run. She drilled inside you as you screamed bloody mary, sacral glands squirting out from underneath you.

“This is what you wanted, hm?” She taunted you between huffs and pants. “For me to fuck you like the slut you are?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes,” The way she was turning you inside out had absolutely nothing on what you had seen in all of your dreams. She was fucking you silly. You were starting to believe the desire wasn’t one-sided.

Reaching your limit, your medium french-set buried themselves into the skin of her back, sure to be leaving what would be a few scratches and welts in the AM.

You mustered up the strength to pull yourself to her, staring into her eyes, still moaning and singing her praises. You wanted her to know how good she was making you feel. And possibly how much you loved her, if she read deep enough.

“You’re so fucking pretty, Y/N,” She compliments, as she watches every face you make.

Grunting and groaning, her thrusts became sloppy, leading you to believe she was almost at her finish line. Before she could, she lifted you up off of her dick and placed your feet back onto the ground. You were entirely too weak to stand, but you’d quickly find out, you standing weren’t in her plans anyway.

With one quick motion, she turns you around and pushes you down back into the table.

You gasp heavily, the cold metal now being met with your hard and sensitive nipples. She holds her tip up against your entrance and rubs in between, subtly dipping in and coming back out every few rubs.

“So,” She leans down to your ear. “You like eavesdropping, do you?”

Your face gets hot from humiliation. You thought you were past this.

“I— I don’t.. I didn’t mean to—,” You try to plead your case but you were a stammering mess.

“Well,” She picks a kimoyo-bead off her bracelet and slams it down onto the wall. “Let’s see how much the others do as well.”

“Shuri, please,” You plead for her to change her mind.

“Aht, aht.” She hushes you. “Save it for the audience, baby.”

You felt your entire body heat up, so rattled by every emotion, in dire shock of what was actually happening rat the moment.

“Fuck you, Shuri.” You spat, so consumed by humiliation, you weren’t considering your possible consequences.

A cold silence runs after your statement and you could feel the switch in energy. She smooths your hair up in a ponytail with one hand and pulls your head back, forcing you to look up at her.

“Gladly.”

Shuri forced herself up into you, still craning your neck to look at her.

“Shit! Wait!” You immediately regret your actions.

Not letting you plead your case, she continued to eagerly rock herself into you, making your ass cheeks ricochet off her hips, creating violent smacking noises.

“Ohhhh, unh!” Your moans began to amplify the more you fought to conceal them. The hold she had you in was making your hovered nipple tips graze across the cool surface, sending you further into overstim.

“That’s it, baby,” Her sweet, soft lips sing your praises. “Let me hear you.”

You were whimpering and pleading in a blabbering mess, it was pathetic to say the least. But she looked so good, she felt so good.

“Tell everybody how good you feel. Tell them who’s making you feel this way.”

These sentences turned a switch on in you that was completely irreversible. Good. Everybody does need to hear. All those snickering, hair twirling, low life bitches, finding any reason to flaunt their bosom in her office. Any reason to touch her, any reason to bombard her with irrelevant questions.

They gave you looks whenever you were with her, they whispered wishes of your demise. With this realization, you completely surrendered to whatever outcome you would be given.

“Fuck, Shuri, you feel s-so good inside me,” You confessed. “Don’t fucking stop.”

Every few strokes she sent a stinging smack up your backside, making you yelp. She reached one hand down over your clit and begin making medium-paced circular motions, while still ramming inside of you.

“Shuriiii,” You stretched her name out as far as she had your lips stretched. “Yes!”

“My name sounds so much better off your lips.” She confessed.

You begged harder, deeper. She obliged your every wish. As you sobbed out overcome with emotion, she leaned down further kissing your sobbing lips. Even in sex, in her roughness, she was gentle.

What seemed like an ever-flowing stream of your release began dropping down both of your shaky, achy legs.

The royal moaned at the sight of you, literally pouring out for her. A few more strokes before she arrived at her own release and she was out of you and kneeling underneath you. She licked you clean, with a wide and flat tongue, from your ankles up to your center, going back in with sweet, passionate swirls and flicks of the tongue on your clit.

The sensation was so sweet and full of care that although you were crying from pleasure, you were also crying from the overwhelming emotions you were feeling.

She made you feel on top of the world. You wanted to make her feel like that.

She stood up and turned you around to face her. She placed a palm on your cheek, thumb rubbing it, admiring your fucked out facial expression and the adoration in your eyes.

You pulled her into you, smashing your lips into hers, dying to feel the safety of them again, and tasted yourself off her lips.

“See how good you taste, nkozsana?” She asked, piercing you with her eye contact and sending chills down your spine with her native tongue.

“I want to taste you.” You blurt out, desperately.

“There’s no need. I just wanna make you feel good.” She replied.

“That would make me feel so good.” You slur your words with full intent of seducing.

You rub your palms across her shoulders and down her chest, lifting the tank once you get to the bottom of her torso. You kiss all down her now exposed skin, kissing around her chest, down her rib cage, down her navel.

“Please, baby?” you looked up at her from your new kneeled position. You felt her shiver between your hands.

She looked down at you and almost melted where she stood. She had such a soft spot for you. She nervously swallowed before caving in and nodding her head, yes.

You smirked to yourself before standing up and taking her hand, leading her to the bed and lightly pushing her back. You instructed her to move back to the middle of the bed and you crawled up to her.

Your acrylic nails aided in the separation of the skin of her waist and the rim of her boxers. You tugged them off her hips and slide them the rest of the way off her legs.

You took a moment, admiring her beauty. For the first time, you saw Shuri Udaku get flustered. Her ‘too cool for school’ nature seemed to take a leave of absence.

Without breaking eye contact, you lowered yourself to her lower stomach, leaving kisses across it. Seeing her squirm under the delicacy of your touch avenged your yearning soul.

You traveled further and further down til you were hovering over her enterprise. From your view, you could see every sticky droplet of sweat, every hair follicle, every sacred part of her being. She sat up on her forearms, watching your every move, tank still folded and breasts still exposed.

You spread her open further with one hand, pinning it in its place and you began your endeavors. Your tongue slowly but efficiently exploring all of her surface area, nothing going untouched. You paid extra attention to her bud, gently sucking and flicking, switching up your speeds.

“Bast—“ Shuri breathed out, in awe of your talent. She reached down to push you off, and before she could you interlocked your fingers with hers and pinned both of your hands to her chest.

“Y/N,” She began to cry out your name, not knowing it was only your ammunition to continue. With feverish pleasure, you spelled your name in cursive across her sensitivity, mentally claiming her to be yours. You wanted this forever. You wanted her forever.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m cumming, nkoszana,” Her chest heaved up and down, legs beginning to shake. She had never experienced a sexual favor done so passionately, it began to overwhelm her.

You rubbed the sides of her thighs, non-verbally encouraging her to ride it out, while you continued attacking her clit, moaning to send consecutive vibrations into her. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she bucked her hips up, sending herself further into your trap.

Gasping for air, she lets go into you and you clean her up with pride.

As you came back up, she looked at you, astoundingly, in disbelief of what she, 1, allowed you to do to her, and 2 how good you were at it. You smiled nervously, not being able to conceal your chuckle.

“Come here,” She grabbed your arm and tugged you, making you fall directly on top of her. You giggled at her assertiveness.

“Yes?” You ask still smiling down at her.

She pulls you down to her lips, kissing you with the intention of making you feel her gratitude.

“Thank you.” She speaks onto your lips.

You look up at the alarm clock resting on your nightstand, and she positions her neck backwards from underneath you, following your eyes.

“It’s 5 AM.” You start.

“Shit. I gotta go back to my office and set up for the rest of the day.” She says hurriedly, beginning to lift up.

“Can’t you just stay for a little while longer?” You ask her sweetly, purposely putting on the voice that you now know is her weakness.

“Don’t do that to me,” She says fighting off her urges. “I wish I could, but I have a nation to lead.”

“Even Princess’s take vacations, you know,” You reply in a jokey tone.

“Do they?” She chuckled. “I’ll have to invest in one another time.”

Defeated, you began to pout. She lifts up and kisses your lips.

“Put your lips back where they were,” She laughs, teasing you.

You lift up off of her and help her up before she gathers her clothes and puts them back on. The two of you walk back to the door, and she turns around to face you, leaning against it.

“How about I come back tonight?” Shuri asked, holding your hands.

“Hmmm, I don’t know, Princess. I’m a very busy girl.” You tease her.

“Oh, are you?” She chuckles, eyes quickly scanning all of the broken glass materials that lay just a few feet from you both.

You roll your eyes at her sarcasm. “Very funny.”

“You can come back whenever you want.”

“Mm.” She hums. “That’s what I like to hear.”

“Well what if you can’t come back tonight? I thought tonight was your presentation night with the board?” You ask, semi in panic. You really needed to see her again.

“Shit, you’re right. I’m sorry, nkoszana.” Her eyes paced around, in thought, as if she was searching for a solution.

“Well, you could always come to my office. There’s always some work for you to do.” She says with a slick tone in her voice. “Actually, you have some paperwork you haven’t finished that’s past it’s deadline.”

You smiled brightly at her insinuation, knowing very clearly where this was going. “Oh, no, how could I let that happen?”

She shook her head and gave a tsk, tsk, tsk, in her cosplay of disappointment. “I don’t know, but i’m not very pleased with you, Miss Y/N. You will have to make that up to me.”

“Tell me how to fix it,” You say lowly, your arousal slowly building back up.

“Be at my office at 4pm, sharp.” She lifts your chin and lowers herself down to your ear. “And don’t be late. Or that’s an extra penalty.”

She returned back to her above eye level position before kissing your lips once more.

“Yes, Princess,” You promised, impatiently waiting for this day to speed up.

She grabbed the kimoyo bead from off the wall and placed it in her lab coat pocket.

“You give a great performance.” She winked at you before sliding the door open and slipping out, disappearing into the rest of her day.

Smiling from ear to ear, you turn around, and you’re met with the mess that was made earlier, bringing you down from your high.

You quickly open the door and yell down the hall.

“Hey! Come clean up this mess!”

#shuri black panther #shuri x black!reader #black wlw #shuri x you #shuri smut #shuri x y/n #black sapphic #prettymrswright hot ficpic

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strawberrystepmom · 10 months

Text

to forgive is divine & to err is human

pairing: Natsuo Todoroki x F!Reader (romantic), Touya Todoroki x F!Reader (familial)

word count: 7.5k

about: when Touya is released to Natsuo’s care following his 8 year prison stay, the fragility of the dynamic between the three of you threatens to derail everyone involved.

contents: cw: contains descriptions of depression, trauma, smoking, bad coping mechanisms, alcoholism, Touya dyes his hair black in a white sink (ugh). angst with a happy ending, set in canon universe but not canon compliant, established relationship between Natsuo and reader (married), Touya and reader are both assholes at certain points.

notes: tbh I've been meaning to repost this and since I'm currently in my "yes girl give us nothing" era, the time has come. Thank you to everyone (then and now) that has read this baby bc I did indeed put my ol' Kendussy into it so I didn't really change anything about it other than fixing grammar and I'm sure there are still mistakes. This is is how I wrote a year ago and that's okay and I'm proud of how far I've come.

Posting this as a double feature bc it feels too idk self promo-y to split them up again so enjoy my creature feature with my beloved Natsuo and his stinky brother. chain divider thanks to @/cafekitsune ♡

The large, red letters across the paperwork make your eyes hurt by simply gazing at them.

“RELEASED” stamped with what you can tell was a mostly dried out ink pad, the red darker at the beginning of the word than at the end. You wish you could close the growing pit in your stomach knowing Natsuo will soon arrive back to your home, rehabilitated brother in tow, but the uncertainty makes it hard to settle as you re-stack the documents given to you by the Hero Public Safety Commission when they formally announced they would permit Touya’s release so long as someone would be responsible for him.

When the conversation came up, Natsuo volunteered without a second thought. It hurt at first that he did not ask you before making the decision but after having spent nearly a decade at his side, you trusted his judgment. Six months after the initial inquiry, you still do. Touya is a practical stranger, someone you have only met through grainy video chats, but you have been briefed by many HPSC coordinators. They have conducted home visits, interviewed both of you as if you were the criminals, combed through every bank account and piece of mail to ensure that they are putting their inmate into good hands. A good word from Endeavor, something your husband reluctantly accepted, sealed the decision. Your eyes scan over the handwritten letter from Enji, tucked in the stack of documents.

“No one is more qualified to care for his brother Touya than my son Natsuo. He is a licensed medical professional, specializing in psychology and mental health services and has experience in dealing with traumatized children. I ask that the Commission consider no other placement for Touya.”

A tired sigh escapes as you flip through a few more pages, squinting through descriptions of you and Natsuo. Your personalities, your hobbies, where you work, who you associate with - all vital information, the panel assured you. The final page of the documents has the official ruling, the top left corner of the page curled in from how many times the pair of you have read over it.

“Todoroki Touya, thirty two years of age, is to be released to the custody of his brother Todoroki Natsuo, twenty eight years of age. Todoroki will be required to wear a location monitoring device at all times per the agreed upon terms of release. He is not permitted to be in contact with any of his prior associates. If contact is initiated, he will be required to return to the custody of the HPSC immediately and will no longer be eligible for release.”

Your eyes scan the document again and again, searching for some kind of strange loophole that could prevent all of this from happening. Guilt crawls up your spine and makes you shudder at the thought. How could you not want this for your husband? He has spent years dreaming of having a second chance to love his brother differently, to help him heal. It makes you feel vile to even entertain negative thoughts about Touya.

Touya. You know little about the man aside from his name, or names, rather. His time as Dabi concluded, he was sentenced to 8 years of rehabilitation instead of prison. A victim of child abuse needed recovery, the commission reasoned, and they were willing to give him the space to do so within reason. The entire Todoroki family agreed with and supported the commission and their decision, his siblings and parents being granted permission to visit him if they chose to do so.

Natsuo went as frequently as possible, excitedly telling you how much his brother has improved after every visit, eagerness infectious. You listened to his every word, rapt, as he talked about how different Touya looked now that he was eating well, how far he had come, how he seemed emotionally stable for the first time in his life. Genuine excitement danced in his eyes at the thought of having his brother back, not a shell of a boy or a man. Not Dabi but Touya, someone who was cruelly taken from him when he was too young to fully understand why.

The true agony was seeing the metaphorical stitches ripped open, cruelly and callously. The entire country was witness to the explosive truth - Touya Todoroki was alive. Even Fuyumi with her limitless poise gnawed her lower lip hoping it would ground her enough that she could stay strong for everyone else. “I can handle this,” she assured you as you wrapped your arms around her shoulders the day after the video aired. She knew the person who would need you the most was her brother. Looks were deceiving - Natsuo was big and strong, a grown man, but his feelings were delicate. She trusted no one but you to look after him.

Natsuo had only asked you to be his girlfriend weeks before his brother revealed his true identity publicly. You will never forget the way grief was etched into all of his features, his strong brow downturned for weeks; retraumatized. It took every ounce of strength in his body to muster a smile, much less anything else, but he did it. For Fuyumi and Shouto, for his mother.

You can remember every moment of the years following Touya revealing himself. The nights when Natsuo woke up sobbing, burying his face into your chest and balling the fabric of your shirt up between his fists as if it would keep him from losing touch with reality completely. He stopped eating for days at a time, depression sinking him into depths he didn’t know existed. You were always there with a soothing touch and okayu, a rice porridge Fuyumi taught you to make for him.

“When Touya died, it’s all he would eat,” she explained. Your heart crumbled at the thought of a 13 year old version of your beloved future sister in law having to keep her 9 year old brother moving through the pain of loss. How did they keep themselves together?, you wondered more than once as she breezed through the difficult times with a tight smile.

The more you watched the man you love sink, the more conflicted you felt about Touya. Those feelings lingered even into today. Natsuo is healing, therapy and love and compassion all coming together to create a whole man instead of pieces of a hurt child in a big body, but you can’t help the simmering anger you feel when you think about watching him experience the hurt in real time. Some memories stay etched forever.

Natsuo continued to live despite the difficult times. You helped him study and make his way through medical school - a feat that he often credited you wholly for. It wasn’t true but the praise always feels good. Three years after Touya was sentenced, Natsuo opened his clinic that offers a variety of therapeutic services for children with difficult quirks or those who have suffered because of them. A year after that the two of you were married.

“I knew you were the one when you gave me a reason to keep trying,” he tearfully admitted as you exchanged vows during your small wedding ceremony. The details weren’t for everyone else to know, but the pair of you knew exactly what he was talking about and the admission still makes you feel weepy if you start to think about it for too long.

Love feels like too shallow of a word to explain how you feel about him which is why you agreed to this in the first place - your love for Natsuo is stronger than your distaste toward Touya. You remind yourself of the mantra as you hear voices outside of your front doorstep, one immediately recognizable as belonging to Natsuo. You stand and take a deep breath, composing yourself and closing the file folder on the table as the door opens and the two white haired men crowd into the small genkan, talking amongst each other.

“We’re here!”

A practiced, measured smile is what you can manage as you watch the situation carefully. Touya scratches the back of his head and offers a small and impersonal wave and you’re surprised by how different he looks. Thin but healthy, his skin grafts have been properly secured, his lashes are the same white as the ones that frame your husband's kind, gray eyes. The similarities between the two are striking but so are the differences - Natsuo greets you with a smile and a peck on your forehead and Touya glowers from the doorway.

“Welcome home, Touya,”

He looks around, eyes narrowed as he takes in the sights of your well lived in home. It reminded you eerily of the way the representatives from the commission sullied your safe place away slowly, searching every corner to make sure you would not enable any more bad behavior from the man standing in the doorway. Your home had only just begun to feel like yours again.

“Nice place. Guess that’s what being married to a doctor gets you.”

His crass comment made you feel stricken, flinching slightly as your practiced smile wavers. You aren’t Fuyumi, full of endless grace and forgiveness - you can’t fake it. You aren’t Natsuo who believes in the potential of people more than anyone you’ve ever met. You are you and right now you are angry. Clenching your fists in a way you hope is imperceptible, you fake a laugh and your husband looks at you with wide eyes, noticing your change in demeanor.

“Well, it’s your place too now. Guess that’s what being a doctor's brother gets you.”

Touya purses his lips and nods, arms folded across his chest. You look over his scars, his healed skin, his cold eyes. “Do you want to show him to his room, babe?” Natsuo asks, voice shaky, as if he’s anxious for your response. “I can find it myself,” Touya answers for you, heavy boots in his hands as he pads through your home toward where his room lies. You spent weeks helping Natsuo prepare it for him, filling it with photos and books to help him gain back the time he lost while he was away. The taste in your mouth is nothing short of bitter and sour as you think about it.

“I don’t know what that was about, I asked him no-,” you raise your hand, cutting your husband off mid sentence as your fake smile finally falls and gives way to a slight frown, corners of your mouth downturned. “Don’t worry about it.”

Touya has always felt suspicious of you. Your intentions, your affections for his brother, your involvement with his family - it’s hard not to be uncertain about someone who fits so flawlessly in the dysfunctional outline created by being a Todoroki. What are you hiding? What do you want?

He tosses his boots down on the floor of the room at the end of the hallway. Instinctually, he knows this is his space. Covered with childhood photos of the Todoroki family, a quilt he received as a child covering the bed, he wants to be impressed with the effort put in but instead he feels hollow. This life never fit him in the first place, happy smiles for photos and dinners and whatever the fuck was expected of him, and now he had no choice but to live it.

It is a hell of a lot nicer than the four white walls that housed him for eight long years. The bed looks a lot more comfortable, he thinks as he settles down on the edge of it, lying back with his arms behind his head. Fixing his gaze on the ceiling, he takes a moment to think in the silence of the space. The entire car ride his brother talked about you and your life together. Touya eventually began to tune him out, watching the trees pass by the window with the occasional red light flashing on his monitoring anklet catching his attention.

Rehabilitated. The connotations of the word weighed heavily on Touya - one fuck up and it would be so easy for you to convice Natsuo to send him back. You could never understand him the way that his family does. You couldn’t forgive him the way they had either, something both of you would never communicate to each other.

“Hey,” Natsuo’s voice rasps from the doorway and Touya sits up slightly, grunting his response. “You like it alright?”

“It’s fine.”

Natsuo sighs, carefully entering the room and shutting the door behind him as he slumps down on the bed next to his brother, shoulders sagging beneath the weight of the huge change that has come over his otherwise peaceful life. “You don’t have to lie, Touya.”

Touya sits up, using his elbows to support his weight, and offers a half smile toward his brother. “I’m not lyin’, it’s fine. Just feels like too much.”

Natsuo nods, trying to tamp down his urge to play therapist instead of brother. It was something he did all too often growing up and probably why he has made fixing people his mission in life. Touya was no exception.

“It’s the least we can do. You’ve been through a lot.”

We, Touya thinks to himself. Always we. He wonders how much Natsuo has surrendered of himself for your sake. Does he have any hobbies besides being a doting husband? Is his world filled with anything besides this little bubble the two of you live in?

“Don’t act like she had anything to do with all of this, Natsu. I was released to you.”

Touya slips a hand in his jacket pocket and fishes around for his pack of cigarettes, popping one out of the packaging with expert precision and sticking it between his lips as his brother sits next to him silently. “Lemme guess, need to do this outside?”

Natsuo nods and Touya sighs, sliding off of the bed and leaving a rumpled quilt behind him. Heavy footsteps trail down the hallway as he peers into the kitchen and notices the backdoor, quietly slipping through it only to be met with a glowing red cherry on the other side, smoke streaming from your mouth as you stand with a cigarette between your fingers.

“Didn’t take you for the type,” he starts, pulling his lighter from his pocket and clicking it until a bright flame catches the cigarette dangling from between his lips. Once upon a time he would’ve just used his quirk but the prescription blockers he was given by court order prevented that. “All he ever talks about is how perfect you are.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” you shoot back, flicking your cigarette ashes onto the ground below before taking another drag.

The mutual distrust permeated the air between the two of you. Touya reminded you so much of your father in law it was like looking at another version of him. You reminded Touya of everything he hated about this world - false pretense and unattainable perfection. He doubts you have ever walked around without a hair out of place, a Todoroki would never.

“Any other deep dark secrets I should know before being trapped inside of this house with you 24 hours a day?”

You chuckle, dropping your cigarette on the ground and stomping it out, bending to pick up the butt once you’re done.

“Your brother won't let me drink anymore,” you start, hoping the vulnerability warms your brother in law. His steely gaze convinces you otherwise and you begin to walk away, arms folded over your chest with a cigarette butt in your fist. “Just another fun part of the aftermath of your little warpath.”

Touya knows he fired the first shots but he’s taken aback at your accusatory tone.

“Anything else you want to question me about? Figured the commission briefed you on all of my dirty laundry.”

He shakes his head and exhales smoke through the corner of his mouth, the plumes drifting in your direction. “Good chat, Touya.”

The back door slams as you enter your home through it, windows rattling slightly. Your first instinct is to pour a drink but the reminder of your rock bottom lingers on your mind as you instead toss your cigarette in the trash and turn down the hall and head to your bedroom, Natsuo sitting on the bed.

“Why does he hate me so much?”

You hate how hysterical your voice sounds, anxiety rising like bile. Rising to his feet, your husband gathers you against his chest and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Give him time, he’ll warm up.”

You don’t share your husband’s boundless optimism as you hear the back door slam and hear footsteps heading to the bedroom opposite yours. Natsuo plants another soft kiss atop your hair and squeezes your hand gently as he walks back over to Touya’s room.

“You alright?” Natsuo asks and Touya rolls his eyes, shrugging off his jacket and draping it across a hook on the back of the door. “Fine. Thanks for the concern.”

Natsuo slips through the door completely and closes it softly behind him, leaning against the solid wood.

“What happened out there?”

Touya chuckles and shrugs, sitting on the bed in the same place he had left. “Nothing worth mentioning. I’ll make sure I keep my bottles hidden from her though.”

His eyes widened, Touya’s antagonistic tone nothing new, his shock coming from the fact you told him about your struggles with substance abuse in the first place. It wasn’t a secret but it certainly wasn’t a fun fact you gave out at trivia night.

“Uh, yeah, thank you.” Natsuo fumbles through his words, unsure of the right thing to say. “That would be great. She has come a long way but there are still times that are difficult, especially when big changes occur.”

Your substance abuse issues began about a year after your marriage. Blissful happiness wasn’t enough to numb the intense pain of the years prior but copious amounts of whiskey while Natsuo was busy with work were good enough. Blind confidence convinced you he didn’t notice a thing, not your sunken eyes or decreased appetite, but he did and he confronted you as gently as he could.

The next day you started therapy of your own and have continued to go to meetings for others struggling with addiction since then. Nothing drastic has happened in your life since you quit drinking, calm falling over the Todoroki household, making it easier for you to maintain your wits.

He would never say it but Natsuo truly worried about your sobriety. Every time he left for a trip or wine was passed around at family dinner, he wondered if it would be the day you changed your mind. Sticking with you was easy, though. You did the same for him at his low point and he would never stop doing it for you.

“She smokes, you know that?”

Natsuo nods, Touya’s raspy voice breaking the silence caused by his brother’s overthinking. “Have to let her have one vice, you know?”

“I think you forget that you weren’t the only person who had to live through that fucking horrifying life! It didn’t just go away when you did.”

Your voice cracks as you raise it at your brother in law, his turquoise eyes wide as he watches you yell with an intensity that leaves your hands shaking. He has never looked more like your husband than he does now, the same white hair sticking up on top of his head, his fingers carding through it and yanking the strands as he paces your living room floor.

“There are times I don’t think you realize that your actions have always had consequences because you’ve truly faced so few of them,” you feel your face flame as Touya’s expression turns from surprised to angry. “You didn’t have to clean up the messes. I did.”

Seeing the similarities makes something inside of you crack, a piece of your heart perhaps, your chest heaving. Regret consumes your mind; you’ve gone too far. You struggle to catch your breath, rubbing your fingers over your cheeks to hide evidence of your tears. Silence blankets the room like a dense fog.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Your voice sounds meek and thin even to your own ears, the screaming match you have been engaged in rendering your throat raw. Painfully, you swallow what little spit you can and shut your eyes tightly as you listen to Touya’s rhythmic footfalls. Taking a deep breath, you sink into an armchair and dab at your eyes with the back of your hands, opening them long enough to see Touya staring intently at you. You drop your hands and sigh.

“I can’t imagine what you have been through,” you hiccup, warm tears sliding down your cheek and dripping onto your wrists where they sit in your lap. “But you weren’t the only one going through it and I hope your brother can forgive me for saying all of this to you.”

The white haired man remains silent as you rise from your chair, hands balled into fists at your sides. Your gaze turns directly to him and you sniffle, tears subsiding.

“He has always loved you despite everything you’ve done, exactly as you are. Please remember that.”

The words feel cathartic to say aloud, astute eyes narrowing to watch you as you turn on your heel and begin to walk away. Your tense posture tells him exactly how you feel about the entire situation and you reason that giving Touya space seems like the best option to end the strange battle of wills the two of you have found yourselves in.

The gravelly sound of Touya’s voice from over your shoulder stops you in your tracks.

“Then I owe it to him to try.”

There is no apology to be found in the words but you swear you can feel it as he says them, looking over your shoulder. For the first time you don’t see Dabi or Touya, you see someone completely new - your brother in law. A blank canvas, someone you could perhaps get to know under better circumstances.

“We both owe it to him,” you respond as you turn around and make your way back to the chair you were sitting in moments ago, sitting stiffly against the back of the chair, shoulders still held tensely by your ears. “But how do we begin?”

Touya sighs and sits opposite you, rubbing his hands over his face as he rests his elbows on his knees.

“Hi, I’m Touya.” You laugh for the first time in a week and he can’t hide the half smile that comes across his face. “I did some fucked up things and spent eight years paying for them but I fucking love my family.” He stomps his foot, emphasizing his point. “That includes you now so we better get our shit together, yeah?”

Another tear falls as you nod, a watery smile settling over your features.

“Yeah, we should.”

A year later, when you think of your brother in law Touya, a memory from your childhood comes to your mind.

You are six, maybe seven and at the zoo. Your parents hold both of your hands dutifully to make sure you don’t run off, squeezing your tiny palms between theirs as you excitedly gasp and croon at birds, snakes, and butterflies. A flamingo makes you shout, a duck makes you quack.

Steps slow down as the three of you approach a large glass enclosure. “Black panther - panthera pardus” says the sign extending from the ground in front of the glass. You don’t know that, of course, until your dad reads it aloud to you, asking you to repeat the name.

“Panthera,” you repeat, a tiny voice bouncing back at you off of the glass.

As if you summoned the cat itself, it appears and you flinch. Black, lithe, wild eyed with muscles wound so tightly you can see the shape and size of each of them. You wonder if the panther knows how to relax, the same way your mom tells you to when you cry too hard. Maybe he needs to take a deep breath.

“Why does he look so nervous?”

In your young mind, the question surfaced before you had time to think about it. Of course he’s nervous, you reason, all of these people are staring at him like the attraction that he is. A dazzling thing to see locked between four glass walls.

“He isn’t nervous honey, he’s probably just thinking about what he would do if he were outside with us.”

Pondering your mom's polite whisper, you nod and accept the answer. Grown ups always know best anyway.

As a keeper enters the enclosure and carefully stalks toward the cat, your eyes widen in surprise. How can he let someone so close? You wonder if you could ever get that close to him. To see the sunlight in his fur just enough to reveal the spots under the dark of his coat or to watch his ears twitch as he listens for sounds of danger. Would he ever trust you? Could you trust him?

The crowd around the glass increases in size, delighted whoops as the keeper dangles the cleaned carcass of a large bird above the panther. You drink in the way he crouches and springs, tight muscles unwinding for a moment as large paws capture the food between them.

A sight you’ll never forget.

A sight you see as Touya stalks through the living room of your home, tightly running his fingers through his hair. Muscles taut, standing and walking but trying to simultaneously fold in on himself.

“What the fuck would they even want to talk about?”

You sigh, shrugging at his words. The “they'' in question is the Commission and one year after his monitored release, he has been asked to return before the panel and answer some questions. Natsuo sits next to you on the floor in front of the chabudai, sorting through the papers sent to him to review ahead of Touya’s scheduled meeting. The three of you only found out about the date today.

“I dunno, Touya,” your husband shoots a bit impatiently toward his brother. “Let me read this and then I’ll tell you.”

Silently, you watch as he scans the documents, flipping them between his fingers. You hear the heavy pounding of Touya’s footsteps across the floor, reverberating through the otherwise silent room. Your house is too quiet. There is no crowd to filter out the silence.

“Potential restoration of privileges,” you hear Natsuo mutter from beside you. He continues to read to himself and you wonder what that truly entails. Would Touya be released from his supervised period completely? Would he be allowed to wander more than 50 feet away from his guardians?

“God Natsu, read faster.”

Natsuo’s eyes shoot a frosty glance toward Touya from over the top of the papers in his hands. Placing them on the table, your husband sighs.

“They want to see your progress and maybe give you a little more freedom.”

Touya freezes in place for a mere second before turning on his heel and rushing to the edge of the table to snatch the documents and look over them, brows furrowed in concern that this is some evil trick the two of you have decided to pull on him. Revenge for the last twelve months of him and his fits, his angry words, his snarling.

You’ve realized during the months he’s more meow than he is hiss.

“But,” Natsuo starts, clearing his throat, Touya tossing the papers back on the table and interrupting his brother with a clear as day “fuck!”, beginning to pace once again. “We have to give testimony.”

The royal we is something Touya has hated since the day he moved into your home. It always makes him feel as if it’s two against one, no separation between yourself and Natsuo and how you feel about the situation. He assumes if you’re mad at him, his brother is too. If you’re frustrated with Touya drinking the last of your nice matcha, Natsuo must be too. If you’re angry at Touya for dying his hair black in your bathtub and staining the shiny white tiles, Natsuo must be too.

He’s wrong about that, of course, his brother never holding any of his minor blunders against him. You don’t either but it would be tougher to convince Touya to believe that than it would be to build a house by hand, despite the tentative peace that exists between the two of you. You’ve allowed him into your home, your world, your once peaceful little family and have found that you are better for it. Natsuo is better for it. But there will always be a level of distrust.

Like that panther you think of so often, Touya must wonder what it would be like to be free and trusted.

“Touya, I don’t know how to say this,” Natsuo says, trying to keep his tone even and calm despite how anxious you know he must be feeling. You feel your stomach drop as well, balling the fabric of your linen pants between your palms to keep your hands from shaking. You looked at the date on the documents and noticed that it was a day you knew he’d be unavailable, working on a particularly tough case with multiple children from one family. “I can’t do it.”

Touya chuckles, a bitter and hollow sound that makes you flinch. “Of course not.”

“She can, though.”

Unexpectedly, Touya’s bitter chuckle turns into a belly laugh. You wonder if he’ll double over from the strength of it, scarred hands clutching his middle. Natsuo stands, approaching his brother carefully.

“Her?” He points at you and you feel like the one being questioned. Despite the grasp on the thighs of your pants, your hands do shake and your fingers slip. “She probably wishes I would have died every single day despite the little “play nice” bullshit she does for your sake.”

Gasping at the accusation, you hope he can’t see the way your eyes glance downward. You had assumed the two of you were past this, arguments coming to a halt around six months ago when you told him you simply didn’t have the energy for them anymore.

You then began taking him to pick up cigarettes every other day, riding in your car together silently but comfortably. His fingers always drum against his thighs impatiently and you clear your throat, mouth dry until you arrive. You have to be close to him the entire time but you linger on the edges of the small shop in your neighborhood, giving the elderly shopkeeper time to fuss over Touya the way he needs.

The two of you then silently ride back to your home.

“How could you say that, Touya?”

Much like the smaller version of you felt compelled to speak outside of the gleaming panther exhibit, you do the same now. Your voice sounds weak, thin, defeated. Natsuo rushes to your side, kneeling back down and placing one of his large arms around your shoulder.

“Oh here we go, gotta rush to defen -”

Touya’s words are cut off by a sharp glance from his brother, a look he has never seen before. Smothering all of the fire inside of him, hurting the one person who has endlessly forgiven him, he is doused by humility.

“I don’t hate you,” you look up and see Touya’s turquoise eyes that are narrowed and hard staring directly at you. “I don’t wish you were dead,” you continue as you shrug your husband’s arm off of you and begin to stand. “In fact, I was stupid and thought we were finally fucking past all of this!”

Punctuating your shout with a frustrated grunt, you stomp off down the hallway and leave the brothers to figure it out amongst themselves. Natsuo would simply have to find a way to make the date work for him because you couldn’t bring yourself to beg the Commission to be merciful toward someone who detests you so much. You aren’t a big enough person for that, lacking the careful compassion of your husband.

“Are you fucking serious, Touya?”

Natsuo cursing at his brother makes his steely gaze falter, eyes glancing downward toward the floor. Touya remembers a time you went too far, not long after he first moved into your home, and he feels guilty knowing he has done the same.

“Whatever,” Touya responds dismissively as he stomps off.

Natsuo hears the back door slam and rubs his hand over his face, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. He’s transported back to 12 long months ago when he didn’t even want to be in the same room as the two of you, the tension making him incapable of dealing with his own uncertainty about the ability to rehabilitate his brother.

As Touya steps outside into the cool air, far less suffocating than the inside of the house, he fishes around in his pockets for his lighter and mutters obscenities as he realizes it is inside. Of course, he still can’t use his quirk thanks to the very strong suppressants he has to take daily as part of his release, so he flings the door back open and stomps inside.

Hearing hushed muttering from the living room, he closes the door quietly and creeps to the doorway of the kitchen. He shoves himself against the wall, trying to hide from view as he hears your voice.

“I don’t understand why he won’t give me a chance, Natsu.”

His brother sighs and Touya sinks further against the wall. He knows the sound - fed up, frustrated, struggling. Natsuo is the last person he ever wanted to create those feelings in and shame, a bit of an unfamiliar feeling for him, creeps up his spine and makes his stomach turn.

“You didn’t exactly make the best first impression, of course he doesn’t completely trust you.”

Natsuo’s words make you blow out air in frustration. Touya can’t see you, but he imagines you look as downtrodden as you always have after these little battles. His brother’s defense of his behavior is surprising, though, and he idly rubs his thumb across one of the graft scars on his hands.

“I know,” you relent with a sniff. “I know.”

Your words shift Touya’s perspective, precious humility trickling over him and making his left eye twitch - a stress reflex he tried to hide for years.

You were the first person who noticed it and on your usual trip to the small store to pick up his cigarettes after, you passed him a box of anti-inflammatory medication and a bottle of eyedrops wordlessly as you buckled into your seat. He hasn’t twitched since.

Acknowledging the hurt you’ve caused is the first step of atonement, he remembers reading in a book Natsuo brought him while he was still locked up.

He peeks from around the wall, stretching his arms over his head and locking his fingers on the back of his skull, buried in poorly dyed black hair. Natsuo looks up through his light eyelashes at his brother who approaches carefully, settling on the opposite side of the table from where the pair of you sit.

“You can do it.”

The words are simple and cause both you and Natsuo to look up. Touya refuses to meet your puffy eyes and rises back to standing as quickly as he sat, slapping the tabletop once before skulking down the hallway to grab his lighter.

You and Natsuo resolve not to ask questions, with only two weeks until the panel meets time is of the essence and your testimony will be key to helping Touya if you choose to help him.

Sitting in front of the panel is more nerve-wracking than you expected. A group of five familiar faces all staring at you with discerning eyes as you shuffle the hand-written pages of your testimony between your fingers.

These people have rummaged through your home on more than one occasion, interviewed all of your close friends and family, sifted through every piece of your dirty laundry and you’re at their mercy once again but this time you’re more willing.

“You may begin as you wish, Todoroki-san.”

Nodding respectfully toward the head of the panel, you clear your throat and exhale as you look down at the papers in your hands. You can feel Touya looking at you from across the room, Fuyumi and Shouto seated beside him and Rei on the other side of his sister, but refuse to look up at them for fear it’ll make the little courage you’ve summoned disappear.

“When Touya first moved into our home, I was uncertain of his ability to be rehabilitated.”

You spent the last two weeks reading this exact same speech to Natsuo, rehearsing it in your bedroom while pacing across the floor. The ink on the page is smeared in places from wet tears that dripped down onto the paper, black bleeding into blue and drying into rippled and raised spots. Those spots remind you of Touya, the way he has woven his way into part of your everyday existence.

“The process of allowing him into our lives felt very invasive. Respectfully, our lives were torn apart in preparation for him. Our home was combed through, our mail was intercepted, my husband was followed by a member of this committee on his way home from the clinic he tirelessly uses as a means to help others on more than one occasion.”

You keep your tone even to avoid sounding accusatory. These are all facts the Commission themselves have confirmed via their own documentation but standing in the face of the very force that can decide your future as well as Touya’s is more intimidating than you expected.

“The day Touya moved in, our lives shifted in a way that no amount of preparation could have made us anticipate. Difficult interpersonal dynamics forced us to take a good hard look at the future of our family and the future of what we desired for Touya. How did we want his rehabilitation to look?”

Taking a breath, you look up from the sheet of paper for a moment to meet Touya’s gaze and it strikes you as odd to see something almost tender. You sniff, nose twitching, vowing to hold yourself together until you’re alone or with Fuyumi or anywhere but sitting in front of people who have made their living off of judging, doling out punishment, changing lives for better or worse.

“While we’ve had many difficult times, I am not here to talk about the difficulty I caused Touya with my inability to coexist for the first several months. Rehabilitation takes a team and I was not a team player,” you pause and hear shuffling from the seats across the room. “Despite this, Touya has dedicated himself to improvement and has continually adhered to every request the commission put forth in the original terms of his release.”

While you don’t want to continue to air out your dirty laundry, there is a therapeutic feeling in knowing you’re publicly admitting to handling things wrong. In front of Natsuo’s family, nonetheless. Touya’s family. Your family.

At the end of this lies the fact that you are all a family and forgiveness is inherently woven through the relationships and bonds you share.

“It is the recommendation of both my husband and I that Touya’s privileges of release be expanded upon, including reduction of supervision and permission to travel to the homes of his mother and siblings independently if he chooses.”

Rising to your feet, you bow before the panel once more before walking toward the back of the room and quietly exiting as they take time to deliberate and make their decision.

Touya rises and comes to the front of the room, standing before them. He hates the way he feels, like a caged animal with his muscles tensed, in a suit that doesn’t even belong to him because why the fuck would he ever own a suit? The sleeves are too long, it is Shouto’s after all, and he pulls the cuffs over his hands with his thumbs.

The panel head speaks and the room is so quiet you’re even unnerved from the other side of the door. Pressing your ear to the wood, you listen.

“Our decision will not be immediate. You can expect further communication from the panel in the coming weeks. As of right now, your terms of release remain the same until you are otherwise notified. Thank you for your time today, Todoroki-san.”

Touya bows and joins his family, missing the member he wishes to see the most.

You back away from the door as you hear the knob turn and rest against the wall, arms over your chest as you greet your in-law’s with a subdued smile.

“Natsu will be so proud of you!” Fuyumi beams, rubbing your bicep in a comforting gesture. You just shrug, unable to speak. You exchange a few additional pleasantries with Shouto and Rei, wishing them goodbye as they leave you and Touya standing on opposite sides of the hallway.

“It’s okay, you know.”

Touya’s voice is a rasp, as always, and you look up through your eyelashes at him. Fiddling uncomfortably with the cuff of your shirt in the same way he’s been fiddling with his own cuffs all day, it just further emphasizes the similarities you share. It isn’t just love for Natsuo you have in common anymore.

“None of this shit has been easy and you’ve done your best. I’m not exactly a fuckin’ easy person to get along with.”

You chuckle, tension diffusing.

“I think you’re going soft, Touya.”

He chuckles back and your eyes meet, the two of you walking toward the center of the hallway to leave the building together and walk back to your car. Your footsteps are quiet and so are his, both of you slumping as you saunter out of the door and into the bright midday sun.

“Nah, just tired of being an asshole all the time.”

The news comes as you stand at your kitchen sink, Touya bent over as you help him rinse black hair dye down the drain. Your hands are wet, his shirt is soaked, but you agreed to help him after noticing a huge white patch still at the back of his head from his attempts to do it himself.

“I dunno why you want it to be black so bad, don’t you want to look like Natsu?”

Touya snorts and the sound echoes through the steel basin. “I have to keep a little edge. Let me live.” You shut off the clean running water, allowing the dark droplets to work their way out of your sink. There was more rinsing to do but you wanted to be sure of how much more.

“It’s here!” Natsuo shouts from the doorway and you hear his hurried, large footsteps trek into the room, ripping of paper ringing in your ears.

You want to leave Touya’s side and go to Natsuo, to read over his arm, to see for yourself but you resolve to be patient and continue to lightly massage Touya’s scalp. He needs comfort right now, you can tell.

“Expansion of privileges,” Natsuo mutters to himself, scanning the page as quickly as he can. “Unsupervised access to other family homes! Holy shit!”

Tossing the papers onto the counter, your husband bolts toward you and wraps his arms around your waist. “No, no, no,” you chant as he picks you up and you accidentally pull Touya’s wet strands of hair. He yelps and you let go, hissing apologetically.

“God Natsuo, down boy.”

Your snarky brother-in-law draws a giggle from you as your husband presses a kiss against your cheek and reaches down to slap him on the back. “Do you wanna tell mom or should I?” Touya looks up, head still dripping, and rolls his eyes at his brother. “I could just show up at her house, that’d have more impact.”

Wiggling away from Natsuo, you reach for the towel on the counter and wrap it around Touya’s neck so he can sit up and not drip black water all over your floor. He gives silent thanks in the form of a tight half smile and you smile back, stepping away to let the brothers converse about how they’re going to break the news to their siblings.

As you watch the two of them, the panther and his handler once again come back to your mind.

The reason that the handler was able to come so close to the cat is because he trusted him. The cat could learn to trust others, to let people in, to let them be on his side. You won’t have to wonder if you could have gained the panther’s trust any longer and he won’t have to wonder what it’s like to be on the outside with the rest of us.

#natsuo todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x reader #kendall writes #the double feature lmfao

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