#who is going to voice that monstrosity | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

greengoblinswifey · 1 month ago

Text

White Boy of the Month- Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

warnings: smut, jealous!reader, unprotected sex, oral(f receiving) creampie, praise kink, established relationship, this monstrosity i conjured up.

author’s note: i’ve only ever written smut for characters and not actors so i feel a bit weird about this, hope you guys like it regardless. ps: this is all just fantasy <3

Nicholas was everywhere these days. TikTok’s new “white boy of the month”, and it seemed like everyone had taken notice. You were lying in bed, scrolling through TikTok, watching yet another edit of him. The one that kept popping up on your feed was to "Shake Dat Ah" by Bossman Dlow, and it had blown up. The video cut perfectly between slow-motion shots of him smiling and laughing, looking so effortlessly handsome with that amazing body. You couldn’t help but watch it on repeat.

You were so engrossed in it that you didn’t notice Nicholas walking into the room until he stood by the bed. Your eyes widened as you quickly tried to scroll away from the TikTok, but it was too late. He caught you.

“You’re watching the edits again, aren’t you?” Nicholas chuckled, his lips curving into that playful smirk you knew too well. “Enjoying them?”

Your face warmed, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. “I enjoy having you in front of me way more,” you teased, giving him a wink.

He grinned and joined you on the bed, lying beside you. He nestled his head on your chest, his face resting against your tits as he made himself comfortable. You resumed watching the TikTok, this time paying attention to the comments. As expected, they were filled with thirsty women.

“He’s so hot, I can’t take it!” “Nicholas Chavez is my husband now, no one can tell me otherwise.” “I’m gonna need him to come over here and shake dat ah for me.” “Fuck me daddy.” “I need him so fucking bad.”

You rolled your eyes at the flood of heart-eye emojis and wild comments, but couldn’t help feeling a slight twinge of jealousy. Nicholas, sensing your shift in mood, peeked up at you.

“Jealous?” he asked softly, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You hesitated, scrolling through another comment about how someone wanted to marry him and have him deflower them. “Maybe just a little,” you admitted, though you couldn’t help but smile down at him. “It’s not like I can’t see why they’re obsessed.”

He reached up, placing a kiss on your collarbone, his eyes never leaving yours. “They can have the edits, but I’m here with you.”

You exhaled softly, letting go of the jealousy. You knew you had him, right there in your arms, and no TikTok comment could take that away. “I guess I can deal with it,” you teased, your fingers brushing through his hair. “As long as you remember who you really belong to.”

He laughed, his breath warm against your skin. “Always.”

The energy between you and Nicholas shifted in an instant. His playful demeanor was gone, replaced by something far more intense. Without a word, he reached up, pulling your tank top down just enough to free your tits. Your breath hitched as his warm hands cupped them, and you tossed your phone to the side, the TikTok edits now a distant thought, though you’d definitely be watching and gushing later. Your fingers found their way into his hair, gripping softly as he kissed down your body, leaving a trail of heat in his wake.

When he reached the waistband of your panties, his lips pressed firmly against your clothed pussy, making you gasp. Without hesitation, he grabbed the fabric and, with a sharp rip, tore them off with his strong, muscular arms. The rawness of the action sent a jolt of arousal through you, and you felt your body respond immediately.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding. Your eyes met his, and he smirked. “No woman in any comment section will ever feel my tongue on them like you do right now.”

Before you could respond, his mouth was on you, ravishing your clit with fierce hunger. His tongue moved in circles, sending wave after wave of pleasure through your core. His finger slid inside you, curling in just the right way, making you whimper. When he added a second finger, your body couldn’t take it anymore. Your back arched off the bed as you came hard, cumming all over his mouth and fingers, your moans filling the room.

Nicholas didn’t stop, his lips and fingers continuing to work you through the orgasm, his eyes locked on your face. “So pretty,” he murmured between licks, “Your pussy looks so pretty. You look so pretty when you cum.”

Your chest heaved as you came down from your high, your mind hazy with pleasure. His words sent another flush of heat through you as he pulled back slightly, his lips glistening. “I’m all yours,” he whispered, his fingers still inside you, moving slowly. “And you’re all mine.”

“I’m yours Nicholas,” you whimpered and he smiled.

He pulled off his boxers, his big, thick cock springing free, standing hard and ready. The tip was a bright, flushed pink, curving just slightly, making your breath hitch in anticipation. He settled between your legs, teasing your clit with the head of his cock, rubbing it slowly, sending shivers through your entire body. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate to feel him inside you.

He positioned himself at your entrance, and slowly, so slowly, began to push in. His cock stretched you inch by inch, your tight pussy gripping him as he filled you. He let out a deep hiss as he sank deeper, his body trembling from the pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice strained with restraint.

You clung to his arms, gasping, “You’re so big,” the words barely a whisper as he continued pushing inside, his thick length stretching you to the limit. When he was fully inside, he paused, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing heavily before he started to move, pounding into you in deep, steady strokes.

“You’re my beautiful girl,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire as he thrusted into you. “And I’m yours. Forever. No one’s ever gonna take me away from you.”

Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, your clit rubbing against his hard, muscular body as he drove into you. His pace quickened, and you looked up at him, heart racing at the sight. His disheveled hair fell into his half-lidded, pretty eyes, his lips flushed and parted, groaning your name over and over like a chant, like he was worshiping you.

Your own lips parted in a moan, his name spilling from you like a prayer, like he was your priest, the only one you could ever confess to. The pleasure built inside you with every thrust, his body, his touch, his words claiming you completely. He wasn’t just fucking you, he was worshiping you, and in that moment, you were lost to him, praying with every moan, every cry of his name.

Nicholas could feel how close you were, your breath quickened, your moans growing louder, and your pussy gripped him like a vice. His eyes darkened with desire as he watched the way your body reacted to his every thrust. His cock throbbed inside you, and with a low, husky voice, he rasped, “You’re so beautiful, baby. You’ll look even more beautiful cumming on my cock while I’m fucking you like this.”

His words ignited the fire inside you, pushing you past the brink. With a sharp cry, your orgasm crashed through you, and your body trembled uncontrollably. Your pussy tightened around him, squeezing him as you came hard, your walls pulsating and clenching around his thick cock. He groaned deeply, feeling every spasm as you drenched him, but he didn’t let up. He kept thrusting, his pace relentless, pushing you through the waves of pleasure, letting you ride it out fully.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he growled through clenched teeth, still lost in the tightness of your body. His hands gripped your hips tightly, feeling your warmth and the way your pussy gripped him like you never wanted to let go. He thrusted in harder, determined to give you more, to show you just how much you drove him crazy.

His own release was building fast, but he held back just long enough to murmur against your ear, “It’s my turn now. And you know what I want.”

Without hesitation, you arched your back for him, pressing your ass high in the air, presenting yourself to him as he moved behind you. Nicholas positioned himself between your legs, guiding his cock back inside you with one swift, hard thrust. You moaned at the feeling of being filled up again, his cock stretching you as he pounded into you from behind.

His grip tightened around your waist, and each thrust was more powerful than the last. His hands occasionally left your hips to deliver firm slaps to your ass, the sound of his hands meeting your skin echoing in the room. “God, look at you,” he growled, his voice low and thick with lust. “So fucking sexy. And this ass, so fucking perfect.”

You glanced back at him, your half-lidded eyes catching sight of his toned, muscular body—his abs flexing with every thrust, his biceps bulging as he held you in place. His messy hair framed his chiseled face, and the raw look of pleasure etched into his expression was enough to make you moan his name all over again, lost in the sight of him.

The pleasure built quickly inside you once more, your pussy gripping his cock tighter, squeezing him as another wave of pleasure started to overtake you. Nicholas could feel it too, his cock throbbing inside of you as he growled low in his throat. “I’m gonna cum,” he warned, his voice strained. “I’m close, baby.”

You were desperate, your voice needy as you begged, “Please, Nick, cum inside me. I want it. Fill me up.”

He hesitated, smirking as he slowed his pace for just a moment. “I can’t hear you,” he teased. “You’re gonna have to say that louder, baby.”

Your desperation heightened, and you practically screamed it this time. “Cum inside me, Nick! I need it! Please!”

With a deep, guttural groan, he slammed into you one final time, holding you close as his cock pulsed inside you, releasing thick, hot spurts of cum deep within you. He moaned your name as he came, his hands gripping your hips tightly, pressing you against him as he filled you up. He didn’t pull out right away, instead, he relished the feeling of being inside you, his cock still throbbing, every muscle in his body tense as he savored the moment.

Before you could catch your breath, he swiftly flipped you over, pulling you on top of him. His cock was still buried deep inside your pussy as he shifted the position, thrusting up into you gently now, making sure you squeezed every last drop of his cum out. You whimpered softly, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your pussy gripping him as he guided your hips slowly.

Nicholas gazed up at you, his hands tender now, caressing your waist as he whispered between kisses. “My baby. You’re so fucking beautiful. I love you so much.”

You leaned down to kiss him softly, your heart swelling at his words. “I love you too,” you murmured, your voice tired but full of affection.

Nicholas kissed your forehead and whispered against your skin, “I’m so happy my career’s taking off, and no matter what, you’ll always be by my side, and I’ll take care of you every step of the way. You deserve the world.”

You smiled softly, resting your head on his chest as he moved to get up. “Wait,” you said, stopping him. “Don’t go. I just want to stay like this, with you inside me, and I wanna listen your heartbeat.”

He grinned, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close again. “Okay, baby. Whatever you want.” He kissed the top of your head and settled back, letting you rest against his chest, his heart beating steadily beneath your ear as you both drifted off into a peaceful, satisfied slumber, completely wrapped in each other.

2K notes · View notes

just-some-user-hunny · 4 months ago

Text

The Cannibal bonded with a bastard targaryen reader ...

This is heavily inspired by @mangled-parasite writings on their yandere hotd stuff. I wanted to go more in depth about the relationship a bastard princess reader would have with the cannibal, because the dynamics could be so diverse and interesting. The cannibal is a really interesting dragon to me as well, he's not been tames nor shows any interest in it, so I always wonder what he'd be like with a rider!

(fem! Bastard princess reader X the cannibal)

. If you are bonded to him, he would be ruthlessly protective over you. He can feel every flicker of distress and discomfort from you, and he bares his teeth like a guard dog at whoever draws too close. Once he had decided that you were his, and he was yours, his fury when it comes to protecting you rivals hellfire. You will never have to feel fear again, nothing can even dream of touching you- lest they want to experience the nightmarish wrath of the Cannibal. It matters little to him if this threat is human, or dragon. In fact he almost welcomes it. He loves the rush of destroying whatever threatens you, the pride that fills him when he charres their remains and feasts upon them In front you- because look princess. Look how mighty he is, look how well he can fight and protect you. After his gory feast, he'll lower himself close to your little form for his praise- purring till your blood fizzles as he enjoys your pets and attention.

. Cannibal has never been a tame or passive dragon, but around you, he'll make an effort to behave. He'll stave away his urges to salivate when he captures glimpses of the smaller dragons, if it makes you happy. He'll heed your voice, your words, if only to amuse you and keep you content. However, he still has a temper- and although he may not engulf everything with wildfire, he will surely growl and roar to make people bend their knee in your presence. His bond to you is tightly knitted, so he can pick up those who are irking you or upsetting you. He shares your hatred for your father, often bearing his frightening jagged teeth at the pale man who can only endure the monstrosity of his daughter's dragon. It'll take only your word to engulf him in burning emerald flames, so for once, your father will hold his tongue.

. He is not an obedient dog, more like a feral alley cat who's taken a warming to you. There's not a force in heaven or hell that can convince him to confide anywhere near the dragon pits, not to mention his monstrous size cannot even imagine squeezing itself into that little ditch. He'll take to sleeping upon the beach, preferably away from vhager, if he wants to remain close to you. However he is known to fly off and disappear for days on end, returning when you least expect it. He is a wild dragon at heart.

. He may not melt into a big passive puppy, but he will surely let you know he likes the attention you give him. He'll croon with his snarling scarred grin, his eyes glinting as you speak to him and stay close. The attitude he has around you is stark like night and day- with others he glares ferociously and mean, but with you, he's bound by your heels.

When you approach him upon the sand of the tide, he'll lower his head to gaze upon you. he'll feel content as he looks you over, appearing docile and calm in your presence.

Your family find it terrifyingly odd whenever you approach him with so much casualty, and he simply looks at you so fondly. The dragon who has devoured oh so many wannabe dragon tamers is now treating you like a precious little treasure, and it's both awe-inspiring, and frightening. His striking emerald green eyes focus on you as you speak sweetly and softly to him, his purrs can be heard from the dragonstone gates.

. The cannibal is an ancient dragon with many years of experience, so to him, you are little more than a child in his eyes. His child.

If anything, he is more of a loving father to you than Daemon could ever be.

It's puzzling to him, at first. He has never possessed a single maternal bone in his body, having no objection to devouring unhatched eggs and even young hatched dragons to satiate his hunger- but perhaps he sees a part of him in you. That wildness to stray, the desperation to free yourself from the thorns of the targarians that dig deep into you. You may be a little gentle weepy thing, but the fact still stands. You want to be free. He can grant that.

As you claim him as a child, he'll watch you grow. Watch your face and hands become weary from the anxiety and ache of constantly being caged. You'll gradually become more and more beautiful, dripping in gems and jewellery and ornate gowns, but the sadness in your eyes hasn't changed since you were a tearful little child. He sees what they are doing- trying to keep you satiated with material desires, but he understands you deep down that nothing of that matters. You want to be anywhere else but here...

. He is an old dragon, and has a temper to him. His hunger for flesh and fire has not made him weary, and although he is scarred and withered, he is still towering in all his obsideon scaled glory. Emerald flames engulfing the sky as you ride upon his back, soaring above the clouds as pride and glory consumes him. He always despises the idea of being 'claimed' and ridden like some show pony, but he finds himself enjoying the company of his little human experiencing the rush of gliding through the heavens. He can feel your thundering heart, the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as he dips and soars between terrific heights, and he can't help but grin a scarred and twisted smile, egged on by your delight of the views and freedom. Yes! This is freedom, my little princess. Let us not be chained by those targarians, this is what living is!

He certainly likes challenging you, obviously not to the point he puts you in any danger of course- but he'll dive at gut churning speeds to see what'll make you shriek. It's almost like He finds amusement out of it, perhaps getting a little kick out of challenging his rider. Once he has landed however with you safely back on the ground, he'll look at you with his gnarled smirk and expect just a little push from you. Don't take it to heart though, his princess. You'll get gently prodded and nudged by his snout to check on you to make sure you're alright. He is still protective over you, after all. His cruelty will not extend to your pain. Besides, you are more often than not riding him bareback, so he would never fly so recklessly that you'd get bucked off. Most of the time he's holding back, really.

. That is not to say that each time you climb upon his back that you will endure terror, because that is surely not the case. He loves flying with you, loves feeling your awe and wonder. It fills him with unbridled pride and ego. You can both feel freedom, and freedom is all he wants for himself and his rider alike.

. As his rider, you have a good chance of escaping the talons of your family. Who is to stop you? The mad prince, Daemon, and his blood wyrm? Cannibal could laugh at the mere thought of this deranged man challenging him with his little red pest. Even the one eyed prince and his ancient she-dragon, Vhagar, will be a welcomed challenge. When it comes to you, he'd do anything.

#yandere hotd #The cannibal #hotd cannibal #dragon cannibal #hotd x reader #yandere house of the dragon #yandere cannibal #hotd cannibal x reader #dragons #hotd dragons #dragon x reader #bastard!princess reader

2K notes · View notes

imaginesmai · 8 months ago

Text

Breeding tonic gone wrong - Azriel

This got out of hand, don't want to label it as Dark!Azriel since it's a breeding drug but it's darkish. Wonderful @daycourtofficial wrote this fic and I thought I could try the breeding potion since I've read fics about it before. But I wanted it to be a little dark, not just smut. Here is the result!

Plot: during a trip to the Illyrian mountains, Azriel and you discover a cabin with all types of monstrosities. One of them ends up in Azriel's blood system, a breeding tonic, which no male nor female has survived before.

Warnings: it is consensual but the consent is given in a life-death situation for both characters. Rough, unhinged Azriel smut. Sex pollen fic.

Illyrians were the worst males alive, and if it was up to you, you would blow those mountains down until none of them breathed. Proof of their cruelty was the lab you were investigating right then, that had installed a permanent frown on your face.

The silence of the room was only broken by the occasional scoffs from your partner, who seemed to have the same feelings about the work done in there. With a half-limp from the previous fight against the guards, you let your eyes travel between the different labeled bottles and horror at their uses.

Pain extension for wing clipping – prevents the muscles from reattaching

Numbing lotion – apply in small quantities before perpetration, makes the female stop squirming

Pleasure beverages – draws the pleasure out of fae 1 and inducts it into fae 2. Still testing

All of them were horrific and terrible, and all of them had been tested. You had heard rumors about hat place before, but Azriel and you didn’t have a real location until now. The twenty males that had died protecting that secret were proof of how sicked that twisted that place was.

“It feels wrong to be here” Azriel muttered from the other side of the room, holding up a bunch of vials in his scarred hands. “How long have it taken them to fill all this up?”

“They are all against… females. Years of researching into their pain, uses and worth” you commented too, your voice only a whisper. “And they have been tested. Approved”

“Let’s finish this and get out of here”

You could feel Azriel’s shadows too exploring the room, and for a moment, you gave yourself a minute to think about possibilities. You had also been raised by Illyrians, in the mountains, yet had been lucky enough to be born in Windhaven. To live next to Rhys’ mother’s cabin and become friends with Cassian, Azriel and Rhysand.

To have one of them as your kind-of-lover, at least more than friends. Everyone knew that you and the shadowsinger were something, and few males approached you when you visited the camps.

You had been lucky, because you could have ended just like those girls that had been used like guinea pigs. The hairs on your arms rose up just at the idea, and you promised yourself you would find each and every participant and tear them into pieces.

“Y/N” Azriel called out of you, and you turned around. “Watch this”

The tremble in his voice, the break from his usual stoic voice, was enough to tear you away from your own worries and thoughts. You replaced his place in front of a worn-down table, full to the brim. Azriel stepped back until he was behind you, until he was between you and the open space.

It didn’t go unnoticed.

You looked over to the notebook he was holding open, old and used. There were different handwritings, names of women crossed out and names of males half-erased. On top, a blank space for the name they would come up with.

In the desk, you spotted several vials with a blueish, bright liquid, some of them empty. The handwritten was tough to read, but before you could squint your eyes, Azriel summed it up for you.

“They were testing breeding accelerations” he explained, the edge of his wing curling around your smaller form. “So far, they hadn’t had results. All the participants died, both males and females”

You held your breath as you read some of the details. Fucked to death seemed to be repeated a lot. Was it a game, to them, the lives of so many women that were dragged into their sick experiments? The miracle of life that they perverted so often?

Azriel shifted closer to you on instinct, probably thinking about the same options you were pondering about. His warm chest against your back made you close the notebook with little care. You couldn’t, wouldn’t, feel pity for those males who had died raping innocent females, probably sold by their own father.

The best thing you could do now was try and find their corpses, give them a proper burial and incinerate the whole place down.

Scarred fingers brushed yours softly, like a gosht touch. Azriel wasn’t a verbal lover, not a public one. He preferred to stay quiet and hidden, and you liked him just like that. Only with your fingers tangling, you expressed the horrors in that poisoned cabin.

You turned around, intending to give him a small smile and maybe make it seem real, but you caught movement from the corner of your eyes. The troubled look on Azriel eyes had him too far away to notice the threat, and you only had time to squeeze your joined hands before he was pushed into you.

With a considerate force, you both collided against the work desk and tumbled into the ground with its content.

“Bitches” the incomer groaned, the edge of his knife breaking the skin of Azriel’s forearm. “You’re all bitches, bastards”

“Motherfucker”

You cursed when your hands touched something sticky. The attacker’s knife scurried down Azriel’s arm when your knife drove through his head. A sickening crunch of blood, bone and brain echoed through the cabin. Azriel had kept his body as an iron shield around you, but you had managed to drag one of your curved weapons and kill the male.

He hissed when the body fell against his back, elbows crumbling under the unexpected weight. You fell back against the sticky substance with a grimace, and helped Azriel push the dead body off.

“That was unfortunate” he complained, rolling off you. “I liked my new jacket”

“And I liked my knife clean, I had just wiped off the blood” you rolled your eyes, getting up and offering him a hand. “Even in death, they cause problems”

Azriel smiled at you when you helped him up, and while he readjusted his weapons, you looked down to the ground.

Papers and empty vials were scattered around. Most of the blood was from the corpse of the ground, which you realized, was one of the males you had thought you killed. One of his wings was missing, courtesy of Azriel, and he was covered in wounds. The biggest of them, the missing part of his head thanks to your knife.

You were about to comment about Azriel getting sloppy when you heard him suck a breath. His body tensed like an arch bow, one of his hands quickly peeling the leather off his arm.

“What?” you were instantly on him, helping him get a better look at the bleeding cut.

“There’s something here” he answered, and you didn’t miss the edge of panic in his usual calm voice. “Something is stuck. In the back”

“Must be a splinter” you walked to his side and peeled the rest of the hard training leathers. “Overgrown baby bat”

He didn’t laugh with you, and your smile died down when you saw the empty vial sticking out of his muscled biceps. It still held the remains of the blue liquid, mixing with his own blood. Azriel couldn’t see it, since it was small enough to hide from his sight. Objectively, it had broken from the fall and emptied on the ground. Objectively, it could be any vial and Azriel would be just fine and perfect.

You felt as if someone had submerged your head underwater as he asked you what was it. As you watched yet another drop run down from the bottom of the vial into his body. No matter how quickly you pulled it off, the harm was done.

For good measure, you took a step back and stared all your intrusive thoughts into the palm of your hand, where the remains of the vial stood. It was covered in his blood, your Azriel’s blood. Your friend, your lover, your Azriel. Your mouth went dry when you looked up and watched his eyes widen in panic.

“Is that…” he didn’t finish the question, nor he needed to.

“Think so. It’s small”

“Was it in? Has it touched my body?” Azriel reached a hand behind his back, searching for a non-existing reassurance in your eyes. “Y/N”

“Maybe it doesn’t work like this. It – it broke, the contents spilled before. We have no way of – “

“Was it in?”

You nodded softly, watching him find the exact point of puncture. You could try and fool yourself, fool him, but you noticed the change in his scent in just a few seconds. Under his spiced, fresh smell, there was something else. His throat bobbed down and his eyes darked, just an inch.

Both of you kept quiet for a second. It had never gone so wrong, so fast, in your missions together. You worked well, you were efficient. At worst cases, any of you got injured and the other would cause a carnage well deserved. At better, you spent time with the person you loved the most but didn’t dare to confess to.

Your ears picked up the increase of his heartrate, and your mind replayed the words in the notebook. The effects of the drug were clear – and the consequences too. That sprung you into action, rounding his rigid body and picking up the fallen notebook.

You flipped through the pages, trying to come up with something else. Something that wasn’t death and a breeding tonic that was just flooding through Azriel’s veins.

“I can’t winnow. I can’t… my shadows. They’re gone” you heard Azriel from behind you, but all you could see were words and crossed out names blurring together.

1st trial: Jolene and Atrox. Healthy subjects. No previous incidents to report.

The male ingested the vial. The effect was instant. Killed the female before undressing her, in his haste of getting closer. Snapped her neck. Died after two minutes, heart gave out.

“Rhysand doesn’t expect us until tomorrow. They won’t be coming. Damn it. Damn it!”

9nd trial: Marvel and Broncor. Stronger, healthier. She has already given birth. Fertile and flexible.

The male ingested the vial. The effect was instant. They copulated for five hours. Female died upon multiple traumas taken to the head. Male kept going for two more hours. Heart gave out.

“Isn’t it too hot? Y/N, listen – what are you doing? Y/N?”

20th trial: Evene and Cyrian. Mated couple. Together for fifteen years. Unconsented teaser.

It was injected into the male arm. The effect was instant. Lasted almost a day. Destroyed previous test cabin, in need for a new one. Female died from multiple lacerations. Male died. Heart gave out.

Weirdly, it wasn’t Azriel’s voice trying to call for you what broke you free from the notebook, but the faint sound of his heart. As you had read through the pages, it had increased dangerously. You had never heard it so loud and fast. The spymaster always controlled his heartrate – through exercises, through missions, through sex.

But you could hear it over your own, loud and demanding. You turned around and found Azriel covered in sweat. His pupils were expanded until you couldn’t see the sweet hazel behind them. And his hand, the one that wasn’t tugging at the edge of his shirt, was holding his crotch with a trembling grip.

The jacket was already on the ground, and above all of that, you vision became blurry at the notice of his arousal. The evident, primal arousal that filled the cabin, that was radiating off him in steady waves.

His eyes bored into yours with an intensity you had never seen, but he didn’t move. It must have taken you a while to read all those tests. Failed test where they all died, the males’ heart giving out in each one. And the heart you greeded the most was threatening to give out in front of you.

“You need to leave” Azriel managed to say, his hand squeezing his cock painfully.

“Az”

Part of you seemed to be horrified at the situation. It was aware of the danger Azriel had just turned into, the order to your legs to run fast and steady ready. It was the part of you Azriel had liked, that had made him train you to be a spy.

The other part, he had created. Between soft touches and kisses. You didn’t need a name to know that you loved him, that he had given you everything when he had nothing. That part was terrified, too, yet seemed to scream in the opposite direction.

Neither of those parts seemed to come up with a solution.

“Don’t say my name. Leave” he couldn’t help the moan at your voice, his fingers quickly getting rid of the confines of his trousers. “Y/N, leave”

His cock spang free with little effort, and he jacked off with an impressive speed. Yet you had read also test 14th, where the male had tried to masturbate and hadn’t even lasted five minutes. Any other day, you would have melted at the sight of Azriel’s cock tall and proud in front of you. There was a steady drip of precum that seemed too eager, too early.

He had an impressive resistance, as you well knew. But his balls were almost purple, the veins along his shaft pulsing.

“If you don’t give in, you will die” you announced him, trying to keep your eyes on his. Your own core was starting to pulse with unwanted need. “None of them could do it on their own. And you’re not different”

“And none of the females live either, Y/N. Please, please” his voice broke at the end. His nostrils flared at your own smell, and his thighs tightened in an effort to keep still. “Run as far as you can, and take Truthteller with you. I can’t – with you, I… leave, please”

“There is one who made it”

The lie rolled off your tongue easily, and you knew Azriel was in too much pain and desperation to notice. Only a male had survived, after killing three women in a row. Your heart seemed to work on its own as you noticed the opportunity. Staying wasn’t the reasonable option, yet leaving him was no option at all.

“It might take a while, but we can make it. You need to fuck it out, and we have done it before”

“With consent!” he almost screamed, ending up in a frustrated moan. “I won’t touch you while this is in me. Either you leave or I – I’m gonna – Y/N”

His heart speeded even more if that was possible, and his hand flattered. How long had it been? You didn’t want to think about how long he could make it, how long he could resist it. But you were certain that he would die before touching you in that cabin.

Azriel had been denied of many choices and options in his life, and you knew how much he hated to have decisions taken from him. You watched the anger in his eyes as you stepped closer, unbuttoning your jeans.

With muscle memory, you stepped out of your confines and stepped up to him. Every part of Azriel was on edge, every nerve on his body screamed. And still, he didn’t touch you. Azriel stared with a silent plea in his eyes, a last warning.

“I can’t do this” Azriel begged. “Not to you, Y/N. Don’t make me do this”

“I won’t lose you”

Those were your last words before you snuck up your arms around his shoulders, forcibly lowering his head so you could lock your lips with him. One last act of normality before the drug took control over him. At that point, there was only one real objective in your mind, one coherent thought – don’t let the only light in your life die. Don’t let Azriel die because a stupid mistake.

You brushed your lips against his and didn’t show the surprise at his body temperature. He was burning, not only hot against the cold wind, but sickly hot. His skin was sweaty against your palms, his lips cracked already.

“It’s fine, Az” you whispered against his mouth. “I trust you”

Before you could blink or fully register the implications of your consent, you were turned around and pushed to the closest wall. Only Azriel hand on your forehead avoided the blow to your head.

His other hand wasted no time to roam through your body, already with enough pressure to leave bruises. It wasn’t the kindness you were used to, the love Azriel professed for you in every touch and caress. His touch was rough and brutal, and you didn’t know what to do with the pooling wetness at the thought.

It could have been tears of frustration or drops of sweat falling onto your shoulder, but Azriel didn’t let you turn around to check. As if looking into your eyes made it worse.

“Az” you moaned loudly when he found your center, trembling with the restrain. “The door, close the door”

He obeyed when his index finger pressed in you with enough pression to make your knees tremble. You only heard the sound of the door closing, maybe his shadows doing the work, as your eyes rolled back when he started fingering you as if it was your own pleasure who was making him mad.

Azriel rutted into your body from behind, growling like a feral animal. His hips pushed into you again and again, the hand holding your face into place lowering to your neck. He kept pushing his finger in and out of you, in a rush to make you wet enough to take him. It wouldn’t have been a problem if it wasn’t for his size, that you were feeling in your lower back.

When you heard Azriel’s breath hitch, when you were sure he wouldn’t last another second with the drug speeding his heart, you urged him to continue.

“If it gets too much, kill me” Azriel whispered with the last remains of his self-control. “Promise me if it’s between me and you, you’ll kill me”

“We’re gonna be fine”

“Promise me”

You only nodded, and hoped he wouldn’t notice the second lie thrown his way.

His fingers left your entrance with a wet sound, and his cock replaced them. You were lifted a few inches with just one of his hands, your feet leaving the ground. Along the smell of both arousals and the sickening scent of the drug, you noticed the blood that peaked through the scratch on your naked chest.

The brief pain of the rough wood against them died down when Azriel finally pushed into you.

Azriel’s cock stretched you so much that, for a moment, you lost your breath. His body moved on its own accord, driven by the drug, and didn’t let you time to adjust. No matter how wet he had gotten you, it hurt. It hurt as he pistoled himself in and out, fast and hard. As he moaned and whined and screamed your name.

He fucked you so hard, yet you could see from the corner of your eye his fingers creating dents on the well. His sheer will was the only thing keeping him from killing you, according to the reports you had read previously.

You didn’t know for how long it went on, only that you came around his cock and he didn’t stop. He came minutes later, sputtering like a teenager with trembling knees, only to keep fucking you with the same strength.

It could have been minutes, or hours, yet the only thought you could focus on was that his heart was still beating, strong and steady. That you were alive and he was with you.

“I’m going to wreck you” Azriel panted, and his voice was only a distant sound in your haze of pain and pleasure. “Please kill me. Kill me before I do, Y/N”

It wasn’t a playful promise of two lovers, but a terrified pled from a drugged male. Azriel’s body was the only thing keeping you straight, his cock keeping his restless movement inside you. There were cuts all over your breast from how hard he was pushing you against the wall, yet he couldn’t stop.

The drug was so powerful, so primal, that he could only keep fucking you on and on.

Even if you wanted, you couldn’t have answered him. If felt like your throat had closed up long ago, only opening for moans or whines. The line between pain and pleasure was blurry all the time, and you didn’t know how much longer you could take it.

“Y/N. Y/N” he called your name as he emptied himself inside you once more – only to keep going a second after.

Your thighs were sticky with his cum and yours, cascading down your legs like a torrent. But the drug kept affecting his body, and he continued even when your body was too sore to handle it. You knew your tears would hurt him and break him into two, but you couldn’t control the overstimulation as you let them free fall your cheeks.

Azriel must have smelt them, the saltiness in the air, because for a moment the male was strong enough to slower his movements. You almost fell to the ground when he took a step back, his heart speeding all over again.

As if the last hours hadn’t meant nothing.

“Run” he whispered desperately, one of his hands furiously stroking his cock.

“I’m not leaving you here to die, Azriel” you managed to say. “Don’t make this harder”

You used the advantage of his self-control before it consumed, and turned around. You didn’t need to follow his gaze to the wounds on your chest, to the bruises with the form on his fingertips, to know they were there. The pain of Azriel’s action was making your mind dizzy.

Yet it was fuck or die. It was for him, whose eyes were still pitch black, his whole body covered in sweat. That you had managed to survive so long broke the records on that old notebook, and that alone would have been enough to make you consider how strong Azriel was.

But you couldn’t think about the pain he must have been in, only dried your tears on your forearm. More threatened to fall because you were tired. You wanted to stop and go back a few hours ago, burn that place down before it was too late. Still, you knew you couldn’t do that.

“I trust you, okay?” you reminded him as Azriel’s own eyes became glossy. “We can make it out. You just need to endure through and try not to kill me in the meantime. We can do it”

You weren’t as confident as before, but you didn’t have time to consider it. With your enhanced hearing, you could hear his heart. It had slowed down from that frenetic, dangerous point at the beginning, but it wasn’t safe still. At any moment, it would give up and you couldn’t phantom that thought.

So, with a trembling hand, you replaced his hand on his cock with yours. He had finished three times already, a fourth time when you used your other hand to squeezed his balls. They emptied on your stomach, precum flowing as soon as he finished.

“I’m so sorry” Azriel admitted, and your breath hitched as you kept stroking him.

It wasn’t enough, the drug made him need to be inside a woman. But it was giving you time to regain your breath, hug his shoulders once more and let him lower you to the ground.

Gaining back consciousness was a long process, that took you a few minutes. First it was the notice of the snow beneath your body, and on you. Flakes fell from the sky and covered your hair and nose, your naked feet. It should have made you cold, but you were warm.

Then it was the soreness that hug every inch of you, from your legs to your shoulders, even your neck. Your throat felt dry and it took you a few tries to open your eyes. When you did, you were met with white.

White ground, white sky, white trees. You frowned at your surroundings before the last events caught up with you, and your body perked up with panic.

Finally, you noticed Azriel’s body draped over yours. He was still inside you, one of his hands cupping your cheek. As you turned to look at him, you saw frozen tears on his cheeks, a sight so rare yet beautiful that broke the last of your stupor away.

“Az” you croaked out, more of a groan than a word.

You weren’t cold because his body and wings were a blanket against the weather. He too was unconscious, covered in snow. The last hours were blurry, only him and his body and the persistent need to hold on. You remembered his body heat, you suggesting the snow to lower it – and the cabin crumbling under his power as he came inside you once more.

One of your hands rose to his cheek, and you watched with morbid fascination the paleness on your fingertips, almost blue. You were far too tired to care about it, the edge of your consciousness slipping away once more.

“We should go” you muttered, tapping those frozen fingers against his cheek. His head just rolled back.

You tried to listen to his heart, to make sure he was alive and had survived the drug. But you blacked out before you could worry about it.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!

Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @starsinyourseyes , @bakananya , @tele86 , @lilah-asteria

1K notes · View notes

harmonysanreads · 21 days ago

Text

In Reca's ideal film, you'd be nothing more than a toy forced to spin at the twirls of a clockwork key ; a spectacle suspended in motion, complete allegiance to his direction, again and again in the palm of his hand. In that perfect shot, you would not rebel, fist against the surface of the screen in a plea to be leg go, no, you'd be easy to control.

“Do not be absurd, my dear! Has a bug chipped away at the film in your head? You would not survive a day away from my camera.”

The friction of his glove as it clasps onto the sinews of your arms clashes against the ricocheting waves of his voice in your ears. Cut! Cut! Cut! You need not return his stare to hear the panic reverberating through his head, just as he needs not respect a fraction of your personal space.

“My thoughts are perfectly lucid, director. I no longer wish to act under your guidance.” you push him back with a finger to his chest and he allows you to, his arms falling to his sides before rising with all the melodrama of a seasoned lunatic.

“What a way to say you wish me dead!” with a sweep, he's beside your stead.

“Have you forgotten your dream, my brightest star?” a brush of his breath against your ear, a firm grasp onto your wrist as it unfolds your hand towards the phantom of your wish, “What happened to that light that brought you to me?”

His presence, annoyingly, is as engulfing as it was the first moment you had the misfortune of meeting his acquaintance. A dwindling candle in a shadowed room, its flicker is too miniscule in comparison to the tenebrous monstrosity extending its talons towards the candle's light.

Contempt is the sole benefactor that keeps it alight, burning for a moment longer. A fruitless effort — rebelling is nothing more than running closer and closer to the dead end.

“It got snuffed out.” you tilt your head towards his pointed stare, in time to bear witness to the contractions of emotions vacillating in his eyes — building up up up before bursting forth in a supernova of laughter. Your feet nearly tangle amongst themselves as you try to move away from the disturbing sight, attempt thwarted by his insistent hand.

Reca's crackles slighter to a burdened sigh, ruby eyes peek from between the crevices of the fingers of his free hand, “And, you allowed it.”

It should be incriminating for a sentence that calm to fizzle your nerves that quickly, “Non.. nonsense! It was you who clearly—”

Your heart jumps as the axis of your vision goes askance, red bleeds and paints the corners of your mind. “I did what?” the sting of his nails sinking into the flesh of your cheeks wakes you, “Come on, you can do it, love. Think. What did I do to you, clearly?”

“You... you made me into who I am today and, I can never even think of standing in front of the camera without your direction.” you heave.

“Brilliant! Just like this! If you continue performing this well, it won't be long before we can step up from these boring scenes and move onto shooting the truly heart-touching moments.” it is debatable whether your legs surrendered on their own or were forced to as the Memokeeper catches you, dragging along your limp form towards his vision.

“And when every scene has been shot, organized and edited to perfection, I'll keep it secure from everyone's grabby hands — for, this film is to be viewed by us alone.”

Hatred is the frailty of the weak, their last act of defiance before they embrace destruction. In Reca's hands, it is nothing more than a misdirection to achieve the most perfect shot, malleable to his whimsies.

#he's like a looney tunes character - anime version #mr reca #mr reca x reader #mr reca brainrot #yandere mr reca #yandere mr reca x reader #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere

663 notes · View notes

amethystwrytes · 3 months ago

Text

Of Course, Professor

Pairing: Law Professor!Lee Know x Female Reader

Genre: Smut. Romantic-ish. Basically just porn with a hint of plot tossed in so I don’t just keyboard smash sex stuff on the page and feel bad about myself. 18+.

Summary: The law professor everyone is scared of generously offers to help you with your school work.

Warnings: There is explicit language. There is explicit sex (oral, penetration, teasing, edging, cumshot). There is a Professor/Student relationship, and IRL I do think that’s super inappropriate BUT this isn’t real life and I promise everything is very consensual, there’s no like “give me sex and you’ll get an A” kinda stuff, so, it’s all very much in my own personal scope of comfort. I wouldn’t write anything I felt was yucky. If any of that rubs you the wrong way though, that’s totally fine, and this one isn’t for you which is completely okay.

A/N: So, once upon a time in my undergrad years I was determined to be a lawyer. For a solid academic year I changed my major to Paralegal Studies because I figured that would be a perfect foundation for law school (smart, right?). Except like, three months in I was miserable and hated everything about it and realized that it absolutely couldn’t be me. I ended up having a similar discussion with my academic advisor/professor - except I didn’t end up fucking them - not that professor anyway (kidding). I always wanted to write a story about that awful year, and now I have - kinda…sort of. With a twist of delicious Lee Know and forbidden love. Yum.

“Can you stop please?”

You look at the girl sitting next to you in class. Her name completely escapes you but her eyes are burning lasers at the pen you’ve been clicking nervously in your hands.

“...Sorry…”

You apologize and gently set the pen down on your desk. Professor Lee is taking his sweet time passing back the most recent term papers and you dig your nails into your palm in anticipation of your grade.

To say you’re struggling in his Civil Procedures course is an understatement. In fact, you don’t seem to be doing well in any of the classes you’re taking this semester. The voices of your parents condescendingly telling you “Law School isn’t for everyone and that’s okay,” sound like they’re playing on repeat in an echo chamber.

If you bomb this paper you’re out. You stayed up almost all night last night going over the pros and cons of dropping out. You went back and forth so long fighting with yourself that you fell asleep thinking about it, and when you woke up the only thing you could think of was letting the universe give you a sign.

You had worked on your term paper for weeks, carefully piecing it together, you spent so much time in the library that you now know the TA who works at the help desk on a first name basis. So if you flunk it, there’s your magical sign.

“Ms. ___,” Professor Lee sets your paper face down on the desk - bad sign. He leans down just a tad, “Why don’t we meet in my office after class?” - even worse.

“Yes, Professor,” you nod. You think about not even flipping the stapled monstrosity over, but curiosity gets the better of you.

There it is, a painful 55% staring back at you in thick, blood-red marker. You spare yourself the trouble of pouring over the thinner red notes made in the margins of every page. You can’t help the tears of frustration that pool in your eyes.

“Everyone enjoy your break and the time spent with your families, when we return we’ll begin our discussions on Summary Judgement, so please make sure you complete the reading outlined in the syllabus before we see each other again. Dismissed,” Mr. Lee nods and the ruckus of chairs against linoleum and exasperation fill the room.

Mr. Lee’s office is four floors above the classroom, so you have a few minutes to spare - which you spend in the restroom crying, drying your eyes, then crying again.

You’re dropping out of Law School. All that work, all that trying, all those late nights - and don’t even start on the amount of money spent on coffee and tuition and fucking textbooks and…you start sobbing again.

“How did you do?” Seungmin asks when you emerge from the ladies room, his face immediately contorts into a painful frown at your red, puffy face, “That bad huh?”

“I can’t really talk Seungmin,” you take a deep breath, “I’ve got to go meet Lee in his office before his next class begins.”

“Fuck,” Seungmin frowns even more, “That man scares the shit out of me.”

“Thanks,” you say, “That’s helpful.”

“Sorry. We’re all heading to the Coffee House before everyone starts driving home for the break, do you want to come? After your meeting of course,” he asks.

“Not today,” you shake your head, “but thank you for asking.”

He gives you a sympathetic look and your shoulder a tiny squeeze.

You stand outside Professor Lees office for a few moments, gathering yourself. Professor Lee makes everyone nervous. He’s a hard instructor, emotionless sometimes, so direct it’s painful, and it doesn’t help anyone that he’s also devastatingly attractive. He’s a giant walking slab of intimidation.

You softly knock on the door and he looks up at you from over his glasses as he types something.

“Ah, Ms. ___, there you are. Come, sit down,” he instructs and you slide through the doorframe and slouch in an old green armchair across from his desk.

“Just give me one second,” he says slowly as he continues typing, “alright.”

“I’m sorry sir, for the term paper, I should have done better,” you offer up, electing to go ahead and fall on your own sword.

“There’s no need for apologies Ms. ___, a waste of time in this kind of situation. I would like to speak to you about your grades this semester though. After I graded your term paper, I reached out to some of my colleagues - some of your other professors - and they all had similar reports to give me, can we talk about that?”

You sigh, fanning out your fingers over your thighs, “Please, Professor, you mentioned a moment ago about time wasters - and I don’t want to waste anymore of your time - I’ve decided to drop out of law school.”

The defeat you feel just saying the words out loud to someone is enough to bring tears back, but you fight them off. You will not cry in Professor Lee Minhos office. Absolutely not.

Professor Lee purses his lips and nods, “I think that’s probably for the best.”

Your jaw drops, “Aren’t you supposed to encourage me to do the opposite? To try harder or something?”

“Miss ___, I fear if you tried any harder your hair might burn out from the roots,” he smiles and if you weren’t so shocked, you’d laugh at the first joke you’ve ever heard him utter.

Before you can think of something to say, he produces a file folder from his drawers and smacks it on the table making you jump.

“These are all the papers you’ve written for my class so far this semester. Your papers intrigue me Miss ___.”

Intrigue? That’s a funny word to use for ‘disgusted and disappointed beyond imagination.’

“But you-,” you begin to point out that the highest grade he’s ever given you on a paper was a 68%. Far from intriguing.

“But…as legal writing? They’re all absolute trash,” he tells you. “What intrigues me about them is the way you write, it’s quite good, every time I read one I feel like I’m in the room with a friend who’s trying to sort of explain law to me, the problem is you just don’t think, rationalize, or talk like a lawyer. I noticed in your transcript that your undergraduate degree was in education, and you had a 4.0 GPA. I can’t help but wonder, Miss ___, what career are you looking for?”

“A…a lawyer,” you say in a quiet voice, staring at a knick on his desk.

He looks skeptical as he leans back in his chair, “Why?”

“Because…” oh fuck it all, you may as well just say it, “because my father, my mother, and my older brother are all lawyers, who went here.”

“I see, so one could deduce that you wanted to be a lawyer because they wanted you to be one, they expected it of you?” he concludes.

You smile comically, the truth is much more pathetic.

“No, actually, they all told me I couldn’t do it. They told me I wasn’t smart enough, sharp enough, bold enough. I wanted to teach art to school children, but when that’s exactly what I elected to study, their comments started. I was just a private joke between the three of them, and I hated it, so I wanted to show them that I could be a lawyer.”

“You came here to study law out of stubborn spite?” he reiterates.

“Yes sir, I did,” you look at your lap and play with a rogue string from your sweater cuff.

“That’s quite impressive, Miss ___, to go through all that trouble, strife, and money to do something you have no interest in just to best your family.”

“Well when you say it like that I sound like a psycho,” you laugh timidly, trying to keep the sludge of humiliation down.

“I don’t think you’re a psycho, I think you’re a bright woman who wanted to show her family they were wrong, but just ended up making herself miserable,” his expression is soft, almost understanding. “However, as your professor, I don’t think I could recommend continuing with law school. This is your first year, with first year level studies, and you’re struggling this much all for something you don’t even want, it will only get more difficult from here.”

You nod, “You’re probably right sir,” you stand, “I should get to the admin office before they close for the break, I’m sorry for wasting your time,” you give him a respectful smile and grab your bag.

“Miss ___,” he motions for you to sit back down, “First of all, you’ve not wasted a single second of my time. Second, I don’t recommend dropping out right now, I think you should finish this semester at least.”

“You just said…”

“I said I don’t think you should continue with law school, and I don’t. However, we’re past the official mid-point of the semester, the cut off to withdraw for a full refund of tuition was last week, if you go now you’ll never get that money back.”

You plop back down in the chair, even more defeated, “I didn’t realize that,” you drag your hands down your face in frustration, “shit.”

Professor Lee chuckles, “I do have an alternative plan for you, if you’re willing to hear it and put in the work,” he offers.

You sit up straight, “Yes, of course sir.”

“I suggest you finish this semester, and I will help you - starting with rewriting your latest term paper. I’ll even try to assist you with some of your other courses, if you’d like. If we work diligently enough, you can finish this semester with an acceptable GPA, that keeps your academic record away from probation or academic expulsion,” he explains.

“You would do that?” you ask in disbelief.

“Well, of course, I am a professor after all. What sort would I be if I wasn’t willing to help my students?”

“I don’t know what to say Professor,” you smile, “that’s too generous.”

“It’s not a problem Miss ___. Now, let’s talk strategy, I assume you don’t plan on spending break with your family?” he guesses.

“No sir, they’re too busy anyway, I plan on staying in my apartment off campus during the break,” you answer.

“Splendid. This evening I have a night class to teach, but perhaps we could meet tomorrow? The library will be closed for break, but my students enjoy meeting up together at that coffee place downtown, uh, Coffee Shack or something,” he struggles.

“The Coffee House?” you help him and try to hold back a grin.

“Yes, would you like to meet there, say, 1PM tomorrow afternoon? We can go over some of your papers together and I’ll help you with your legal writing technique,” he asks.

“Yes, I’ll be there sir, I really can’t thank you enough, truly I appreciate this,” you tell him.

“I look forward to it, Miss ___.”

📖 ❤️

You adjust your backpack as you walk towards the Coffee House doors. You packed your laptop, all your text books, notes, and a few other things because you weren’t sure what Professor Lee would want to cover. The weight of it all is dragging you down and you have to hunch over a bit to balance it.

“My goodness, here, let me get that for you Miss ___,” Professor Lee greets you at the door, he seems to have already picked a table near the front and grabs your bag with a grunt. “Did you pack your entire house?” he teases.

“I didn’t know what you’d want me to bring, so I brought all my school things,” you laugh.

“Well, I suppose it won’t matter that the library is closed since you brought it with you,” he chuckles and you take the seat beside him.

“Should we start?” you open your laptop and power on.

“I thought perhaps you’d like a beverage?”

“Oh,” you look behind you at the register, “Yes, I suppose we should caffeinate,” you smile.

“What would you like?” He stands up and brings his wallet out.

“Oh please sir, let me pay, it’s the least I could do for all of your help,” you beg.

“Nonsense, as much as I love to argue Miss ___ I don’t see the point over a cup of coffee, what would you like? Are you hungry?”

“No, I ate lunch before coming, just a latte for me, small,” you concede, “and thank you…again.”

He smiles and departs from the table. You watch him in the line from where you sit. Seeing Professor Lee like this feels…different. In a less formal setting he’s almost approachable, and you’re starting to see things about him that you don’t in class. Like his generosity, and kindness, the man even has a sense of humor and you think of texting Seungmin about it but stop yourself. You want to keep this all a secret. You don’t want anyone knowing that you’re in such desperate need of assistance with your courses, but also you want to keep this side of Professor Lee to yourself.

You could think of worse ways to spend your Saturday afternoon than with an attractive law professor who’s willing to help you pass your classes. You wonder if he’s aware that all his students find him so hot, or if it’s something that’s never occurred to him. He doesn’t wear a ring on any of his fingers, which tells you he isn’t married, but that doesn’t mean he’s single. You can’t imagine that he’s not seeing anyone. In class he’s usually got on some academia aesthetic looking suit on, lots of tweeds and browns - today he wears a fitted pair of jeans, and a navy sweater with a white collared button up fashioned underneath, the sleeves pushed up his forearms. His jet black hair isn’t styled like it usually is in class, and hangs long and loose around his face. He looks like such a boyfriend…

You blush and go back to focusing on your laptop. What the hell was that? He’s your professor. Which is actually kind of enticing…

You press your lips together and roll your eyes at yourself. Stop with the intrusive sexual thoughts about Professor Lee - the man is trying to save your ass, not spank it - having inappropriate daydreams, no matter how justified they may be, is unacceptable.

“Here we go,” he comes back to the table and sets two mugs on the surface as he takes his seat again.

“Thanks,” you smile politely, trying not to look at him. If you don’t look at him, maybe you won’t think about how cute he is and instead focus on what you ought to be: your failing grades.

“So, let’s start with the main issue of your papers. Writing, in the legal sense, is cut and dry. It’s all about facts, findings, and nothing expressive or personal, which is where you seem to have the most trouble,” he begins and you try to absorb the information instead of noticing the way his lips look while sipping his coffee.

This endeavor may be harder for you than just pulling your grades up.

📖 ❤️

“I think that was a very productive first meeting,” he says optimistically as you start piling things back into your backpack.

“I think so too,” you nod. Productive, yes - but now the real work begins and you’ll have to go home and actually re-write the damned thing.

Professor Lee carries your backpack out the door, “Where’s your car?”

“Oh, it’s at home, I just live a few blocks away,” you point in the general direction of your apartment.

“You mean to tell me you carried this while walking from your house?” he holds the backpack with two hands for dramatics and you giggle.

“It’s not that terrible, how long has it been since you were carrying books around, Professor? Surely you remember the struggle,” you tease.

“I suppose it’s been a bit, here,” he reaches in his pocket and the SUV beside you beeps, he opens the passenger door, “I’ll drive you home so you don’t have to endure the struggle.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that sir,” you shake your head.

“It’s fine, it’s a small college town Miss ___, I can get literally anywhere in less than five minutes, especially since the majority of students are gone this week. Let me be chivalrous for you,” he smiles and you melt a little bit.

“Well, if you insist,” you look up at him as you slide into the passenger seat.

“I do,” he closes the door, then places your bag in the backseat before coming around to the drivers side.

“Are you always this difficult, Miss ___? Or are you just trying to be overly polite because I’m your professor?” he asks when you point him down the street towards your apartment.

“Difficult, sir?” you look at him wide-eyed.

“Mmhmm,” he nods, “You didn’t want me to buy your coffee, you nearly refused my ride home electing to carry a small library on your back while you walk,” a look of panicked concern washes over his face and he looks over at you, “This isn’t making you uncomfortable in any way is it? Being alone with me?”

“No! No, absolutely not,” you assure him, though you wager that your thoughts about him would certainly make him uncomfortable. “I’m just so incredibly grateful for your help, and you continue to go out of your way for me. It’s just never something I…” you stop yourself.

“Never something you what?” he presses.

You laugh awkwardly, “It’s just not ever something I expected from you, given your reputation with the other students.”

“Ah, yes,” he sucks his teeth, “My reputation of being an uptight jerk who doesn’t like anyone.”

“I would never use those words sir,” you tell him.

“You might not, but I have the internet too, I’ve seen the threads about me on social medias,” he shares.

“You read those?” your voice raises at least three octaves.

“Of course, I’m only human, curiosity gets the best of me from time to time.”

“I don’t participate in those conversations,” you shake your head, “I understand that it’s only natural for students to want to know about the personalities of their upcoming professors, but the bias that occurs in those threads is absurd.”

“I agree, though sometimes they can be helpful, to my ego at least,” he laughs.

“How so?” you wonder, because you don’t remember seeing anything about his classes online that would feed his ego.

“Some of my students may not like my personality, but they like looking at me,” he grins.

“Professor Lee! That’s scandalous,” you laugh and playfully smack his shoulder.

“What?” he laughs with you, “I’ve got to take something positive from it! 75% of those comments are atrocious, but I’m quite proud that I scored three hot peppers on the professor hotness scale.”

“Oh my God,” you cover your mouth, “I cannot believe I’m sitting in your car having this conversation,” you giggle.

“Is this your building?” he points.

“Yes, it is.”

He parks on the street and you take a deep breath when he exits the car. He knows his students think he’s hot, and now he knows that you know he knows. You pat yourself on the back for indicating you’ve never participated in those threads before the conversation took a turn towards hot peppers. Though you are 100% guilty of voting for his peppers.

He opens your door, hanging your backpack across his shoulder.

“I’ll walk this up for you,” he offers and you swallow hard.

“Sure,” you smile, your heart pounding out of your chest. Professor Lee Minho is about to see the inside of your apartment. You try to recall the state you left the place in. You remember doing your dishes before you left, but that’s about the only productive thing you can remember doing today.

You unlock your door and flip the lights on. Your art supplies are everywhere, and you have a bag of laundry by the door because you plan on hitting the laundromat this evening. In trying to move it out of the way you knock it over, a pair of your underwear spilling out onto the floor right at his feet as he walks through.

“Jesus,” you mutter, humiliated, as he looks down at you grabbing up the black lace thong and shoving it back into the bag.

To your utter relief, he says nothing about your undergarments. He sets your backpack down and looks around.

“Can I offer you anything to eat or drink?”

“Did you do all these?” he walks forward into the room towards the area you dry your paintings in. Canvas after canvas sits up against the wall, some completed, most unfinished.

“Oh, yes,” you say, walking up beside him, “This semester has been really frustrating for me, and painting helps.”

“Well, they’re beautiful, truly - you’re quite talented,” he looks down at you, “I can see why teaching art is a passion for you, you’ve certainly got quite a knack for it.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

“Teaching is very rewarding,” he adds, “I think that you should pursue your original dream Miss ___. You’ve clearly got a lot to offer the world,” he smiles down at you and you catch his gaze, a few quiet seconds pass as you look into his dark eyes.

“You could just call me by my first name, ___, if you wanted,” you say softly, “and um, thank you, for complimenting my art.”

“You’re very welcome, ___,” he responds, staring at you again. You watch his eyes flit down to your lips and your heart speeds up again. He suddenly clears his throat and looks back at the paintings, “I think we should make the most of the week, since classes aren’t meeting, this is a perfect time for you to catch up with your studies. Tomorrow is Sunday, which is the day I typically devote to catching up on grading, and I do have midterm grades to enter. Perhaps Monday?” he asks.

“Monday, yeah. That works, um, I have a shift at work on Monday morning, but I’ll be free after 3PM.”

“Perfect, we could meet at the Coffee House again, around 4:30?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Great,” he begins walking back to the door, “and, um, while we’re together - working on your coursework I mean - feel free to call me Minho. However when classes resume, it’s probably best to address me as Professor Lee.”

“Of course, Professor,” you agree. “Thank you, er…Minho…for everything today.”

“You’re most welcome,” he opens the door then pauses, turning his head slightly in your direction, “Nice panties, by the way. See you Monday!”

You stand there, speechless, staring at the closed door.

📖 ❤️

Monday afternoon you can’t help but notice that Professor Lee - Minho - sits closer to you at the table in the coffee shop as he helps you study for one of your other classes. You don’t blame him, truth be told, you spent over an hour after your shift at the bookstore getting ready, hoping he’d look at you the same way he did Saturday. You are, without a doubt, down bad. To impress him even further you’ve got a surprise for him.

“I re-wrote my term paper,” you blurt as the two of you are clearing up the table after studying.

“Already?” he looks at you.

“I worked on it all night Saturday, and most of the day on Sunday. Do you want me to email it to you?”

“Absolutely,” he smiles, “Good girl.”

Fuck off, he did not just say that. You bite down on your lip and your thighs press together as you bring up your student email. You attach the file and send it to him.

“It should be in your inbox the next time you check,” you say…like a good girl. Swoon.

“Great, um, I was wondering - and just tell me to shut up if you want to - but I was wondering if you had plans this evening?”

Your heart grows wings and begins to fucking fly.

“No,” you shake your head, “I have zero plans for a Monday evening in a town that’s practically shut down.”

He chuckles, “Right. So, would you want to join me for dinner maybe?”

You at least pretend to mull it over instead of just shouting YES in some unflattering, desperate tone.

“Where were you planning on eating?” you ask.

“There’s a really nice place I like, it’s about a twenty minute drive out of town, but the food is impressive, never had a bad dish there,” he shares.

“I am hungry,” you say, “I’d love to.”

“Good, shall we?”

📖 ❤️

“Are we celebrating anything special this evening?” the waiter asks as he sets two glasses of water down, “A first date? An anniversary perhaps?”

“No.”

Both of you answer him at the same time, and try to hold your laughter in when the poor man looks taken back.

“Okay,” he says, “Can I get you all anything to drink from our wine or cocktail menu?”

“I’ll have a glass of this pinot, chilled, please,” you point to the wine and the waiter writes it down.

“I’ll have the same,” Minho smiles.

“I’ll get those right out.”

Minho bites his lip and stares down at the tablecloth, you frown.

“Is everything alright?” you ask.

“Everything’s fine,” he says, “I’m just trying to remind myself that nothing inappropriate is happening here, I’m having dinner with one of my female students, but you are an adult and so am I and it’s fine.”

“I won’t be your student after this semester,” you point out, “I don’t know if that’s helpful or not though.”

“It is,” he nods, then tilts his head, “yet somehow I still feel like I’m misbehaving.”

“It’s only food, how is that misbehaving?”

“It’s not what I’m doing,” he bites his lip again and looks up at you, “It’s what I’m thinking.”

You take a sip of water, your body practically vibrating with curiosity, “What is it that you’re thinking, exactly?”

“Things that I shouldn’t be thinking about my student,” he says quietly.

“This isn’t high school, Professor, this isn’t even undergrad. Don’t be harsh on yourself, I’m sure whatever you’re thinking about isn’t a bad thing,” you point out, hoping you sound cool and collected and not like you’re ready for him to take you right on this table.

“So if I was thinking about fucking you after class in my office, across my desk, that wouldn’t be a bad thing?”

You nearly choke on your water. Before you can respond the waiter returns with your glasses of wine, not a moment too soon.

“I’ll let you guys look over the menu and come back in a few minutes.”

You clear your throat once the waiter is gone, “I think fucking me on your desk would probably be inappropriate,” you smile, “especially to your neighboring colleagues. I have quite a mouth on me,” you say, opening your menu.

You can feel him staring at you. “I’d very much like to hear it.”

“Maybe you will, I guess we’ll see,” you shrug.

The smile that spreads across his face is so dangerously mischievous, your clit throbs where you sit and you shift uncomfortably, only making it worse.

📖 ❤️

The sexual tension between the two of you could be cut with a knife as you make your way back to his car. You reach for the door handle, but he grabs your arm and spins you around, your back pushed up against the door.

His lips crash against yours, arms caging you in which is completely fine by you. You bury your fingers in his hair on either side of his head but he pulls away.

“I want it to be clear I have never had any kind of sexual relationship with a student, ever,” he says quickly, then his lips are against yours again.

“I believe you,” you manage between lips and tongues.

He pulls away again, “And the only reason I’m pursuing this is because I can’t fucking resist you and you’re not going to be my student again after this semester,” he adds, then more kissing.

“Got it,” you mumble into his mouth.

Again he pulls away, “Seriously, even if you don’t quit law school I can never have you in class again, okay?”

“Yes! Fuck that place, I’m done, and even if I wasn’t - I wouldn’t take you again, you’re an uptight jerk of a professor, remember?” you tease him, then desperately pull him back onto your lips.

He shoves you harder against the car, his knee coming between your legs and you press yourself down on his thigh. You moan softly into his mouth and his hand smacks the side of the car.

“Get in, fuck, please get in the fucking car.”

He scrambles around to the drivers side as you jump in.

“Your place or mine?” he asks, turning the ignition.

“Which is closer?” you ask, pulling the seat belt so hard and quick that it locks up.

“Uh…mine… mine I think.”

“Then there’s your answer,” you tell him.

Five minutes of him burning rubber down the highway is too long for you not to be touching him. You reach over and caress his thigh through his jeans, moving higher and higher until you find what you’re looking for in the darkness.

He hisses as you stroke and massage his hard length through the fabric.

You unbuckle your seat belt, “Are you as good a driver as you are a professor?”

“I…why?”

You scoot as far as you can and lean over, undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, sliding your hand through the opening of his boxers until you feel the warm, velvety skin of his cock in your fist.

“Oh fuck…oh my fucking…” he pants, his knuckles turning stark white around the steering wheel.

You unbuckle his seatbelt as well and help him get it out of the way before pulling his cock from the confines of his jeans.

You stroke him a few times, then let a glob of spit drip from your lips onto him so you can continue stroking more comfortably.

“God…”

You take him in your mouth and suck, running your tongue over the tip. The way he’s nearly whimpering, eyes so wide on the road, delights you. You put your mouth on him again, taking him deep in your throat, taking turns stroking and licking.

“I’m going to cum,” he whispers hoarsely after several minutes, “I don’t have anything to…” he looks around frantically but you shake your head, popping your mouth off of him momentarily.

“I can take it,” you whisper, then suck him between your lips once more. You can feel the base of his cock twitch and brace yourself, spurts of hot cum follow seconds later and you take it all from him greedily, swallowing then wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Holy shit,” he says through clenched teeth. “That was so fucking hot.”

“Thank you,” you grin, pulling down the visor so you can fix yourself in the mirror. The “kiss proof” lipstick you wore today is evidently not “road head proof” and you clean up the edges of your mouth.

He reaches over and grabs your hand in his, squeezing and rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb while he speeds down the road.

📖 ❤️

The door to Minhos apartment isn’t even locked before he shoves you against it and presses his mouth to yours.

“I want to make you feel so fucking good,” he whispers, trailing kisses down your neck. He drops to his knees and unbuttons your pants, pulling them down your legs. You kick your shoes off so he can get the pants off completely.

He looks up at you and grins, tracing the lines of the black lace thong that toppled over at your apartment, “I was wishing very much that I’d get to see you in these,” he says, pressing his tongue against the tiny bit of cloth.

You gasp at the way his lips move, teasing and licking through the thin lace, “Are you really going to eat me out against the door?”

“Mmm,” he moans against your clit and your legs jerk, “Yes,” he says hooking his fingers in the strings and pulling the soaking wet cloth down your legs.

“No patience at all Professor, I’m shocked,” you tease.

“So… you can call me Minho,” he smiles, kissing and licking trails back up your legs, “but in class and when I’m fucking your pretty pussy feel free to use Professor.”

“Absolutely Professor Lee,” you rest your head against the door as his tongue wiggles between your slick. “Fuck!”

He finds your clit and wraps his lips around, gently sucking. You lay one of your thighs over his shoulder and try to steady yourself while he laps and sucks you off. You grab his hair with your fingers and move with him, fucking his face and listening to the delightful slurping, wet sounds erupting through the quiet room.

“Oh…just like that, right there,” you whine when he begins to softly lick the perfect spot, “fuckfuckfuck…yes!” you release his hair from your fist and hold yourself against the wall as your legs begin to quake, cunt throbbing in rhythmic spasms as he milks you with his lips.

“Oh my god,” you groan, trying to stand straight. He finally gets around to locking the door then picks you up, carrying you down a hallway. He pours you onto the bed and you watch as he strips himself of clothing, you follow suit, though half your outfit is in his foyer.

You lay back, bottom lip between your teeth as you watch him crawl over you, positioning himself between your legs.

“You’re sure this is okay?” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours, the head of his cock leaking against your open cunt.

“Yes, fuck, yes I want you,” you assure him, nails digging into his shoulder. He makes a gruff noise deep in his throat and lines himself up with your opening. You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to push into you and he does, slow and deep. You both moan into each other at the sensation of it.

Slowly he begins to move quicker, still deep, but urgently. The sound of skin against skin intoxicating. He sits up a bit, your hips coming with him and he grabs them, using you as an anchor to thrust into you.

“Minho…” his name comes out as a whisper, your eyes screwed shut. “So close…”

“No, no,” he tsks, slowing down and pulling himself out, pushing the head of his cock against your clit. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He slides his cock against you until you start squirming beneath him, your clit still sensitive from his front door excursions. “Please? Fuck…” you whine loudly.

“You want it?” he asks in a growl, stuffing himself inside you then pulling out again.

“Yes! Yes! Please!” you cry, your nails scraping against the sides of his legs.

“Are you sure baby?” he smirks, pushing into you and pulling out slowly several times. Your orgasm begins to build again and you meet his thrusts with your hips, chasing it. Until he pulls out again.

“What are you doing?” you groan, half laughing and out of your mind.

“Beg a little,” he urges, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock but pulling away every time you try to push against it.

You snap your eyes open, the sight of him looking down at you makes you unhinged. “Please, Professor Lee, please let me cum,” you say it as sweetly and earnestly as you can muster.

His eyes practically roll back in his head as he lines up with you again and pushes in deep, his hands fly back to your hips and he drags you on and off his cock until your vision goes white with the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had.

“Sit up, please,” he begs breathlessly as he pulls away, stroking himself. You do as you’re told and watch as his lips part, his hand stills and shots of pearly strings shoot across your breasts.

“Hold on,” he says when he can move again, then disappears behind a door, emerging a few moments later with a warm damp hand towel. He kisses you deeply as he cleans his cum off your chest.

“That was so fucking good,” you whisper, taking his face in your hands.

“Yes,” he sighs, pulling you down beneath the blankets with him, “Yes it was.”

He holds you close to him, your eyes getting heavier, “I think my books are still in your car. We could go over the paper on tort law I bombed over breakfast tomorrow?”

He chuckles and nods, “It’s a date.”

📖 ❤️

You sit in Professor Lees classroom as he passes back the latest exam. Term is almost over and everyone seems to be reeling with nerves around you.

He slows beside your desk and lays your test down, “Much better, Miss ___, much better.”

Seungmin looks over at your test, “Hey! Not bad,” he smiles cheerfully.

“I’ve had a lot of help this semester,” you smile.

At the bottom of the last page you read the note of thin red ink,

See you at my place tonight?

The End

Endnote:

I am in my Lee Know slut era. I will not be taking questions about my worship of him at this time, thank you. As always, if you made it far enough to read this, please accept my virtual smooch.

Also as always this is unbeta’d bc that’s typically how I roll so it could be absolute trash but that’s okay bc we’re just having fun.

#skz fanfiction #Lee know fanfiction #skz smut #lee know smut #Lee Minho #skz romance #Lee know romance #Lee Know x reader #fanfiction #stray kids

720 notes · View notes

th4tprettylittleliar · 1 month ago

Text

pairing: Uni Professor Leon Kennedy x Fem!student reader

CW! : Leon’s cheating ;( , age gap (18 and mid 30s) , degrading themes, reader is a dummy, semi-public sex, (not really) fingering, piv sex, unprotected sex use protection! Reader looses virginity, readers lowkey obsessed , leon fingers her w/ wedding ring (sorry) , Leon’s rude as hell, some religious themes??

A/N : please lmk if there’s any spelling errors! I was really excited to publish this so I proofread fast. Please share this! It’s my first one shot on this blog . EDIT: I proofread now so lmk if there’s still spelling errors or grammatical errors

Okay, fine. Maybe your mother was right. Beauty doesn’t get you that far in life. How were you supposed to know?! For half your life, all you had to do was smile big and everything was handed to you.

Your friends— your popularity.. your boyfriends! You kind of figured everyone just liked your dumb-blonde personality. Not only that but you were just as sweet as a sugar cookie; something someone could crave and desire.. and cherish when it was in their grasp. Sweet and a little dumb? You had everyone at you feet.

Many wished they were you. You were the full package. Except, you were missing just one thing..

Your fucking brain.

It’s not like you were a clutz.. dear god no you weren’t helpless! You just needed extra help. Your daddy always told you that you were a special girl. Your frontal lobe just hasn’t developed yet! That’s why you almost flunked freshman year, that’s why you still use the “L” method to distinguish your left and right, and that’s why it took you nearly 6 retakes of the drivers ed test to finally get your license.

Yet, nobody trusts you enough to give you the keys to their car.

You hated it but you knew it was the price for your beauty. You can’t be that perfect in a world of monstrosity. But yet, even with just your face alone (and maybe a rather rich father) you still got into a good university.

You were so excited when you stepped foot on that campus, you would finally be living out your Rory Gilmore dreams! You were majoring in psychology, and biochemistry. You knew you had to try hard, harder than ever.

Your future depended on whether or not you completed college, and you weren’t going to mess this one up! You were determined. You wanted to live your rich-dentist fantasy with 2 boys. You needed to try your hardest.

Even if your hardest wasn’t enough.

It had almost been a month at university and you already had your eyes locked on someone in particular.

He was so soo dreamy, almost too dreamy. He made you forget that you were here to study, to be a rich mother of two!

You sometimes had to slap yourself to bring yourself back to reality. (Yes, you unconsciously did it in public) you’d get a weird stare or two but you didn’t really mind anymore.

His deep voice echoed against the lecture halls, he sounded stern— mean almost. You absolutely loved it. You loved every minute of that 3 hour lecture period. You thought you’d be bored out of your mind but your brain moved the little thoughts you had left and replaced them with the images of him.

You knew you weren’t the only one who had a infatuation strong liking towards the man.

You heard his name echo all through out that school, the gossip traveled. Every single girl who had a lecture with him either loved him or will eventually love him, it made you jealous.

You’ve never felt like you had to compete for something like this before,

It was always given to you on a golden platter.

It’s not like you could have him anyways. He was your professor. Shocker! You always went for the harder to get ones, figured your looks would do the rest.

Months of just looking down at him from the theatre seats were excruciating. You needed to be right beside him. For the past 4 months that’s all you wanted. You didn’t need to purposely flunk any test because that was already going to happen.

You just wished there was a moment where you could have him all to yourself. That’s all you wanted, a little one on one.

You could’ve easily emailed him and asked for tutoring sessions but why should you? It just doesn’t make sense why he hasn’t offered you any help. Your grades were a mess.

You started to get unmotivated, all you did was analyze him, and hyperfocus on every single one of his attributes. Its the hardest you’ve ever focused on something in your life. Just to go home and fantasize about everything he could do to you. That’s was probably why your grades were a mess.

You decided to pull yourself together and stop. Your dad was threatening to pull you from university calling it, “a waste of money.” So you knew you had to get your act straight.

It was hard, very hard but you stopped obsessing over him. You didn’t want to give up on your own dreams so you went to tutoring groups with your classmates to help get your grade up. That’s where. you met a guy named Miguel that helped you a lot.

You guys usually studied after class, or on the weekends with a cup of complementary coffee always purchased by him. It was a nice distraction from everything. You even managed to start passing the class before the progress report! Your daddy would be proud.

It was like this for weeks. Just the two of you studying for any upcoming tests, or even finishing an assignment together. It was really nice. You were even starting to get really comfortable with him aswell.

Today was another day of that long psychology class. Your usually giggle session with Miguel was some what masked by Professor Kennedy’s talking. You guys were barely taking note of what he’s was teaching.

His same, deep voice echoing through out the lecture hall. Except, every time Miguel and you started to talk amongst yourself, Professor Kennedy went quiet until you guys stopped, embarrassing you both.

You looked up every once and awhile from your computer, pretending to focus on his lesson, just to turn and talk to Miguel again. Professor Kennedy grew annoyed, and paused his lesson.

“Is their something more important up there then what I’m teaching?”

His voice was laced with his grim expression, making your heart drop. Hes never even addressed you like this.

“Excuse me?” Your soft voice ecoed against the loud silence. By the looks of it, your response pissed Mr. Kennedy off.

“Is that the issue? You cant here me? Why don’t you sit down here, sweetheart.” Professor Kennedy looked up at you, meaning buisness. A pout forming on your lips as you picked up your bag. Miguel looked just as shocked as you did while you walked awkwardly down the theatre steps. Plopping yourself in the center of the front row, like he asked.

His arms met the table before you, giving him leverage to lean down. His annoyed voice loud enough for only you to hear,

“How dumb are you? If you wanted to help yourself, you’d pay attention to my lecture. Instead, your giggling up there hoping to clutz your way into his pants, huh? For God’s sake, don’t be stupid and a slut.”

Shock was the only emotion desplayed on your face. Mouth dropped, eyes widening. He smiled before apologizing to the class before continuing his lecture.

Now, it’s a known fact you aren’t the brightest star in the universe, but this was a new low. You didn’t care what he said at all, it just made your stomach fluttery. You knew it’s probably wasn’t okay or even allowed for him to say that.

Not saying being called a slut didn’t hurt your pride, but it just made you fantasize him in a newer light. If slutty was being a little slower and wearing sundresses so be it. You thought you got over this obsession, you thought it was over.

The rest of the class you spent with your mind in a daze and your thighs clenched together. Nobody has made you feel this way. You felt hot, really hot. Tingly too.

If it was any other person, you would’ve let your father handle it. But no, it was Professer Kennedy. Quite frankly, you’d bend over backwards for that man

Class ended, you slowly packed up your things before putting on your school bag. You grabbed your watered down latte in sync as you took a step down the lecture theatre stairs, before hearing your name echo in the now quiet classroom.

“Yes, Professor Kennedy?” Your voice softer than usual as you slowly walked to his desk, your caked face tilting in the process.

“Look, I have my daughters dance recital in a hour and if I’m late my wife is going to beat my ass. So, I’m going to make this quick.” No.. did you here that wrong? he didn’t say wife.. Hopefully he didn’t notice the frown that formed on your face.

“I’ve noticed you’ve got your grades to passing and that’s fine but your barely passing. Your grades aren’t fantastic. I need you to focus on me in my class, not the man sitting next to you. I want you sitting front and center in my lectures going forward.” His tone harsh, how you liked it. This was a blessing from God, putting you right in the path of Leon’s view.

“I thinks it’s best if I sit next to Miguel, he actually helps me out a whole bunch. You should’ve came to me when I was actually failing, Professor Kennedy.” Dumb or not you knew what you were doing. Your sweet smile dawning on your glossed lips, your hands clasped together. He didn’t like that, at all.

“If you wanted to get your grades up, you would’ve came to me. Its university, doll. Do you need your professor following behind you asking if you submitted you assignment?” This is what you loved, the way you were talked to by him made your heart flutter. It was weird, you’ve never felt this way.

“Well, it would’ve helped.” You shrugged, a little giggle escaping your lips but you were met with dead silence and a cold stare. So you stopped.

“Wednesdays, Fridays, and occasionally Saturdays you’ll meet me in here at 6:00 to 8:00 for personal lectures. Dont tell anyone, you’re lucky I’m wasting my time on you. Your grades reflect my teaching so this is mandatory.” His tone monotone and uninterested, you had a bright smile on your face, though. Much more time with Professor Kennedy? This was a dream come true. Sadly, you’d have to end your study sessions with Miguel..

“Thank you so so sooo much Professor! I’ll be sure to come in tomorrow.” Genuine happiness was displayed on your pretty face. Professor Kennedy rolls his eyes before grabbing his briefcase and exiting the lecture haul

“Don’t be late.”

And you did just that.

It wasn’t really your fault… you needed to look good for you tutoring lesson! You wanted to wear this yellow sundress with white ruffles but you couldn’t find it. You looked for almost half an hour just for it to be on your bed.. too bad! Your makeup wasn’t working out either so you needed to restart. Then the car wouldn’t start and… well you get the point.

You also needed your latte so you were about an hour late. You showed up to the empty lecture room, no denying that you looked really good. You just couldn’t find Professor Kennedy.

Suddenly, his office door opens up and your met with an angered man, peering into your soul like he’s about to take it.

“I am so sorry look-“

“Save the bullshit. Your late but you have a fucking Starbucks coffee in your hand?” Proffesor’s voice is echoing off the walls, you gulp before responding

“Coffee helps me focus! I can get you one next time.” Your sweet smile stretched across your face again, trying to lighten the eerie mood.

“No, I don’t want your gratitude. You look like you stepped out of a paegent. Get in here.” He degrades before stepping into his enclosed office. This was the first time his words actually upset you, did you do to much? You thought you looked pretty..

You slowly crept into his office, looking around. It was bare, but it looked comfy ish. He had a nice fuzzy blanket in the corner chair. His desk was front and center with a wooden chair in front of it. Maybe you were looking for a little too long..

“Are you just going to stare at the chair or are you going to sit in it?” His usually demeaning words, he made you feel more stupid than you already did.

“Sorry.” You mumble, siting in the chair before you, your eyes look directly at his, eyelashes batting in his face. Almost felt like a brag.

“Your staying until 9 know since you decided it was okay to be late.” he bowed his head in disappointment as he typed on his computer for what felt like hours.

“Get your text book out and turn to page 132” he demanded, and you did exactly that. The first time in forever you’re accurately following instructions

You stay quiet and still while he types away, your textbook wide open and your phone next to it. Sometimes you found yourself basking in his features. His dyed blonde hair, his piercing blue eyes, his lips, his muscles… god his muscles.

“You’re staring.” Professor Kennedy breaks the silence as you flinch, turning to look at other rather boring things in his room. You could’ve sworn you saw him smile a little.

He actually wasn’t a bad teacher. He guided you through the text book chapters, and adjusted to your learning pace. He knew it would take a while for you to grasp onto the concept of psychology, but for the first time in a while he was willing to wait.

These study sessions helped a whole bunch, somehow with a brain capacity like yours you were actually learning some new concepts. You were finally able to say that you’ve learned something here. Your grades went up to high B’s and periodically low A’s which was a stretch from the beginning of the year. Just a little more studying and.. what?

You failed the chapter 7 test. Now, from the normal point of view you’d be confused, baffled even. How did you bomb a test when you were doing amazing in the class course? But in your point of view, you needed this, this had to be done.

You purposely flunked that test without a care in the world.

Why? Because you’ve noticed he became more distant the more you began to grasp onto psycology, the more you understood it. The tutoring sessions went from four days a week to only once or twice a week for an hour. That wasn’t enough time at all. He even gave you the opportunity to sit next to Miguel again but you didn’t. Why? Because you needed to be front and center. The first thing he sees when he looks around. You wanted to be the only thing on his mind and it’s not fair that he’s not getting the hint.

Why is this happening to you? You were always front and center, the first thought on everyone’s mind. You were practically a god at getting the male gaze and he didn’t bat and eye at you. Is it his wife? He already expressed the discontent in the relationship to his colleagues on the phone. He must’ve thought you weren’t listening.

This isn’t fair at all.

But at least he emailed you last night, you smiled so wide when his notiftication popped up on your phone, and even wider at what he wrote.

Sunday 6:30pm lecture room. Don’t be late. Professor Leon Scott Kennedy

You honestly didn’t think he’d care, and he probably noticed something was fishy because of the ratio from your test to your average grade. It was nearly impossible but you didn’t care, at all. You needed an excuse to see him and that plan fell right into your lap.

you eagerly waited for Sunday to come, it was only two days away but you didn’t have his class for the rest of the week. It felt like it’s been weeks since you’ve last seen him.

Sunday finally rolled around, and of course you had to doll yourself up. That signature sweet smile plasted on your full face, the dress that barely covered your ass. You’ve also grasped the concept of turning others on. Something that came natural to you but you wanted to crank the knob a little.

Your sandals clapped against the wood flooring as you approached his office door, before knocking on the door (knock, knock knock, knock). You were so excited that you instead brought ice cream today.

Leon reluctantly opens the door, to be met with you all dolled up, batting your stupidity long eyelashes in his face, and a ice cream cone in hand.

“Sit down, now.” This was different, or it felt different. Your heart actually dropped. Usually his tone made butterflies appear in your stomach, but he sounded genuinely pissed off.

“Yes sir.” Your words barely audible as you sat in the familiar wooden chair. You dress impossibly bunching up more, you take a light lick of your ice cream cone, as you watch him walk around to his side of the desk.

Leon would’ve usually sat in front of you, but no. He stood instead. His muscular arms on full display to you. He bunched up his sleeves but you were a mess already for this man. Your eyes couldn’t peer away from the veins that were prominently on display in his biceps. Only his voice could’ve broken you out of that trance like state.

“What the fuck is your problem.”

“Huh?” You look up in utter confusion, taking another lick of your icecream, a little dripping on to the side of your lip. His tongue pokes his cheek as he looks up at his office ceiling. Oh, he’s mad. Really mad.

“I tried so hard to be patient with you. So hard to give your dumb ass a chance. You were genuinely impressing me, growing on me even. Just for you to throw it all away.” His face inched closer to yours, you swallowed nothing out of pure fear. Professor Kennedy could practically hear your heart beating

“Professor Kennedy-“

“Oh, don’t you fucking call me that!” His voice impossibly louder than ever causing your eyes to widen and you to jult up in your seat. He decides to sit now and leans back, just for his eyes to narrow at you. He’s never looked better.

“Don’t act like I don’t know this game your playing. Prancing up in here with those stupid ass dresses, always something on your face, and seriously? Practically deep throating that ice cream cone in front of me? You’re not niave as you think you are.” His words shock you, you just liked looking pretty for him was that such a big deal?

“I don’t know what your saying.” You whisper, your doe eyes only growing bigger as you stick your tongue out, taking another drag of the ice cream.

“If you wanted to fuck your professor, you should’ve just asked. You look pathetic” Ouch. Now that one hurt, pathetic? You don’t even recall ever being called that.

“I don’t want to fuck you—“

“Oh, sure you do sweetheart. You’re telling me if I offered, you wouldn’t agree?” He caught you, he did. This was embarrassing being put on spot like this. Pouting as you look away from him. He’s mocking you, and your not going to fall for it.

“Sir, I’m not a slut. Plus, you have a wife.” You reminded him like he somehow forgot. He scoffed as he sat in his chair, looking at you face to face you.

“Come here” he demanded, his demeanor not faltering as your eyes widen, and your body stiffens up.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you have a hearing problem? I said come here.” You did just that, slowly standing up in confusion as you walk to the side of him

His computer was ahead of him, he pulled up a different tab before spreading his legs before him,

“Sit.”

You heard that wrong, you must’ve. He didn’t— He pat his thigh, his glare looking meaner every second as you finally speak up.

“I- I can’t.. Your my teacher and—“

“Am I asking you to take off my pants and suck? No, I said sit.” You reluctantly sit on his lap, awkwardly as you looked at the laptop before you.

“Yeah, you see that? That’s your score. A fucking fifty-four. Do you know how badly that’s going to affect your average for my class?” This felt too degrading, you were somewhat disappointed in yourself.

“Why did you fail my test on purpose?” Its over, he hates you. He fucking hates you more than he already did.

“I- I didn’t.” You stutter through your lie as he spanks you thigh, causing you to jult forward as his hands come in contact with your hips.

“Fine! You started seeing me less.. I just wanted to see you more, and I knew If I passed the test that the tutoring would stop.” You’ve never felt so ashamed before, he shakes his head in disbelief as you fiddle with your fingers nervously

“How sad, you flunked your test for extra time with your professor..” He mocked, grabbing a hold of the back of you neck, causing you to yelp as his lips met the shell of your ear

“You’re going to get what you wanted, baby. But, your retaking this test as well.” And with that he grabbed a hold of your hips, forcing you to face him on his lap as your hands met his shoulders, startled.

“Wait— I can’t this is morally wrong. You have a wife..”

“You didn’t care when you bent over with those short ass skirts, you didn’t care when you ‘accidently’ brushed my leg with your foot.. don’t try to sell me that bullshit now.”

It was all too much, never in a million years would you have thought this would happen. You’re sitting on top of your wish, and it’s getting harder beneath you.

“What if we get caught?” You mumbled, eyes faltering away from his in shame.

“Don’t be loud and we won’t” Without warning, his soft pink lips met yours. You were in shock but you finally kissed back. Your eyes closing in the process as your arms wrapped around his neck.

The kiss only got deeper as his hands went from your hips, onto your bare ass. Rubbing it soothingly before spanking it causing you to interrupt the kiss with a whimper against his lips. He forced his lips back onto yours as his tongue begged for an entrance, which you granted.

Your tongues faught for dominance before his would win the battle, taking over you as his hands crept below your dress and only your lower back. You shivered above him as you broke the kiss.

“We can’t do anything else.” You confessed in a daze, the thought of him cheating on someone for you had you feeling too responsible for the outcome. His forehead met yours as he whispered,

“Just a few kisses, I promise.”

Your niave self believed him as your lips met again, before they would finally travel to your neck, subtly biting and kissing causing you to whimper out,

“Just kisses.” You reminded him as he nodded, before sucking on the spot just below your jawline, your hands met his chest as you clawed at his suits vest. He finally decided to grab a hold of your hips before placing your back against his chest, your sandals propped on his knees as the laptop faced you now, and the image of your spread legs.

Your dress now settled on your hips, showing your frilly white panties that are drenched in your arousal, causing you to grow embarrassed and try to remove yourself off of him. This annoyed him as his much bigger hands forced you back down on his lap.

“You promised just kisses!” You whined out as he snickered below you, before whispering,

“Yeah, my fingers wanna give your cute little pussy some kisses too.” This startled you as his hands crept below your panties, forcing them to the side of your lip as he rubbed your clit, causing your legs to grow weak as he picked up the pace.

“These are not kisses!” You whine out, a moan following shortly behind you. The office door was still wide open, if anyone walked into the lecture theater they’d smell the aroma of sex, and they most definely hear your sweet little noises.

He finally scooted his chair closer to the laptop, before speaking up “Begin, sweetheart. Go ahead and take your test.” You shook your head defiantly, you couldn’t even think straight and he wants you to take a fucking thirty question test right now?

“I can’t—hmph!!” You stumble out, before letting out the most pornstar like moan. He forced his fingers inside of you, the same fingers his wedding band sat on. It hurt, a lot. He smiled as he saw little streaks of blood on his fingers

“A slutty virgin, I never thought I’d see this sight.” He chuckled as your head flung bag, earning a tsk from him.

“Nu -uh, doll. You have a test to take. We can do this all night.” His fingers slipped inside you like a symphony, your gummy walls trying to squeeze him out as he forced his way through

His hand crawled from your hip to his laptop as he prest ‘begin test’ the test was on a time limit, 45 minutes. There was no way you were finishing at all. Your eyes met the screen as your fingers clawed into his biceps, trying to slow down his relentless pace.

The pain was far long gone and your brain was mush. You weren’t going to be able to even think properly so why was he making you take the test now?

“Section one, vocabulary. Sleep and mediation are examples of what?” His tone far more happier than ever, he’s never acted like this in your near 5 months of knowing eachother.

He’s starting off easy and you couldn’t even open your mouth, your ears were ringing, fuck you were so close. “Professor Kenn- hmphh!!” That’s it, he found the spot you never knew existed. The spot that made your legs spasm uncontrollably and you pussy pulsate. You were so close you could feel it

“Right there! Oh.. Professor Kennedy!”

“Shhh, baby, you don’t want an audience, or do you? Answer the question.” He demanded, looking at the beautiful sight before him, 18 year old hottie pratically loosing the few brain cells she had stored up in her head, going dumb on his fingers. He wondered how you’d react on his dick next.

“I can’t- I.. I feel weird..” You confessed, it’s never felt this way before. Sure, you’ve touched yourself a handful of times, even to him. But you’ve never came from penetration, the feeling is so much more different and harsh. Your stomach had this forever feeling of it sinking, and your extremities just felt hot, and stuffed up.

“I’m- I’m gonna cum!” Your eyes began to roll back and within a second of hearing that, he pulled his fingers out and that beautiful feeling left your body, and your soul. “No.. no no! Professor Kennedy why-“ he stuffed your talkative mouth full of his fingers, you felt his wedding band on your tongue, making you mouth taste metallic like.

“I don’t want my baby cumming until she answers the questions, does she get that?” He’s speaking to you like he has to break down the simplest of words. Technically, in your state of mind he did.

All you did was nod as your tongue swirled on his fingers, before your teeth came in contact with his wedding band as you open your mouth, your teeth removing the wedding band as you place it on the table. He practically moans beneath you as he grabs a hold of you thighs

“You so dirty, baby.” He places you on your back, right beside his computer before bunching up your dress. You whined beneath him as your hands struggle to reach his chest, just wanting to feel on him. So much for just a few kisses. He had you right where he wanted you.

“You gonna take you first dick like a good girl, huh? I bet you are.” His words felt like drugs coursing through your body, making you clench around nothing as he practically ripped your panties off.

“Mhm, I promise.” You’re saying that now, until he unbuckles his trousers and pulls down his boxers that make you rethink your very decision. God, it was big, too big. His tip was irritated, looked bruised almost. With vigorous precum spilling from it as he pumped his dick, warming it up.

“I’ll take it slow since it’s your first time, sweetheart.” Is this a joke? You were struggling taking his fingers. There’s no way he thinks that’s going to fit.

He shifts his laptop to face your face, you turn your head sideways to look at the laptop as you whine. You shouldn’t be doing school work while getting fucked for the first time.

He slapped his tip into your exposed clit, earning a flinch from you.

“Please- sir..” you just loved that name didn’t you. “I have to teach you some patience as well, don’t I?” He snickered as he slowly attempted to slide himself it, you were squeezing from the pain causing him to grunt in response.

“Relax baby, you’re going to love it. Fuck… just relax.” His eyes were slowing shutting as his dick slid into you, with a struggle before he finally bottomed you out.

“No- no. Its to big I can’t take it.” You whined out as you struggled against him, his hands met the back of your knees as he pushed them against your chest, creating a easier and way deeper angle

“Oh- oh god!” You cried out as he began to thrust into your warm cunt, his chest heaved against yours as he fucked himself relentlessly into you, only picking up the pace.

It definitely hurt, but that pain would soon shift into probably the best pleasure you’ve ever got to experience. Not even your pink bullet vibrator could bring you to this euphoria.

“God! God! D— sir I can’t .. I nmphhh!!!” You practically screamed as the desk creaked below you, your test long forgotten about as he kissed your neck, trailing up to your ear as you whisper

“How many time did you dream about this—shit.. how many times— Jesus Christ.. did you touch yourself to me, baby? We both know you did, ohh… fuck..” He would periodically break out into a groan and his pace only quickened, your mind was in another dimension, all you could feel was your pussy being filled and pulsating, and your stomach filled with butterflies.

You were long gone, you ears doing much more than ringing, “going stupid on my cock, huh? Pretty girl probably can’t tell what I’m saying can’t she.” And all you could do was shake your head and moan like a bitch in heat.

“God you look so beautiful, getting fucked dumb next to my wedding ring. How slutty can you get?” His pace was quickening almost sending you over the edge, his tip hitting your crevix as you cried out hoping something could answer your prayer of pleasure and allow you to cum.

Leon grabbed his ring, putting it on his finger as he rubbed your starved clit with it, using it as a stimuli. Before shifting his hips to hit that perfect spot within you, that spot that makes your vision splotchy and you legs shake.

“God- Daddy I’m gonna cum! Please don’t stop! Please please please!” His pace only quickened as the rope in your stomach snapped, causing you to practically scream, which was hushed by his hand as you came on his cock.

“That’s a new name. What happened to professor, baby?” You can’t talk anymore, there’s tears building up in your eyes from the overstimulation and he seems to be getting impossibly faster. The room was filled with his balls slapping against your ass, and the squelch your wet pussy makes every time his tip hits your gummy spot.

“I didn’t tell you that you could cum, but it’s your first time so I know you can’t handle it.” He mocked as he picked you up, sitting you on his lap. You fell like a ragdoll onto him, your head on his shoulder, your arms wrapping around back as he grabbed your ass and used his legs as leverage to bonce you on his cock.

Just this action alone made you spasm uncontrollably and cry out, your cunt vibrating against him had even him seeing stars as he quicken his pace. His office chair squeaking below him, his phone buzzing couldn’t be heard over his heavy breathing and your cries

“Fuck- baby where do you want my cum.” He asked, fucking into you like a sex machine, cranking up his speed by ten as he abused your pussy.

“Inside! Nghhh I’m gonna cum again!”

“You wanna get stuffed full of my cum? Have it leak out of you pretty girl? Say it” his words alone could send you over the edge, and they did

“I need it so bad- fuck daddy I’m cumming!!” The overstimulation was too much, everything was too much. You practically saw the gates to heaven as you squirted on him, this action alone made his dick twitch as he came inside you, his hips spasming causing him to thrust inside you as him came, he gripped onto you for dear life before the orgasm washed over the both of you.

“‘M sorry, ‘m so sorry.. I didn’t mean to.” You practically slurred out of exhaustion. All he could do was breathlessly laugh.

“Don’t apologize sweetheart, it was adorable.”

You sat there, in utter silence just in the embrace of one another. His hand met your hair, combing through it as he kissed your forehead. Your head lied on his shoulder, feeling his cum drip from you onto his cock. This was the softest he ever acted towards you.

“You said just a few kisses.” You mumbled tiredly, looking up at him as he laughed to himself.

“That was just a few kisses, sweetheart.” He said as he pulled out, causing you to whine from the sudden loss and a whine to escape your lips.

“You still never answered the question, baby.” He mumbled against your forehead, as you both sat still, recovering from the bliss you two shared.

“Oh, shush.”

#leon kennedy smut #smut #resident evil #resident evil smut #leon kennedy #professor x #student #foryou

452 notes · View notes

qlossytbh · 4 months ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 you get your period. that’s the synopsis.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 fem!reader, mentions of lots of period pain, cramps, nausea, fatigue..etc, mutual pining, idiots in love. pretty much just fluff tbh

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1.2k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 guess who just got their period!!!!!

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

An involuntary groan left your lips, elbows perched against your desk and head falling weakly into the palms of your hands. Your forehead was shining a thin layer of sweat, breath short and jagged.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to alleviate the gut-wrenching pain that was pulsating throughout your lower abdomen. Your body felt weak, shaking slightly due to the pain.

This time of the month was the devil's way of making you pay for something you had done in a past life— although you couldn’t think of anything that would bring you anywhere near deserving of this monstrosity.

Penelope eyed you curiously, stopping midway on her trail back to her own little bat cave, as you liked to call it. It would take an idiot not to see how clearly in pain you were.

“Hello my sweet love,” She walked up to your desk, heels clinking against the floor. “You okay?”

You gave your friend a side glance, lacking the vast amounts of energy you needed to dismiss her concerned gaze.

“Just great Pen,” You gritted, teeth clamping together as one more wave of cramps shot through your body. Your cramps came in waves and right now you were trying to recompose yourself from one of said waves. You were failing miserably at the staying cool and collected persona.

Penelope's face fell, mouth curving into a small ‘o’ of understanding. “Oh..”

You slumped over your desk, resting your forehead on the cool surface as your arms snaked around your lower body. She rested a hand on your back and rubbed soft, soothing circles. “That time of the month?”

“Does everyone have such a hard time with cramps?” You groaned from your position on your desk.

“Some people do,” She whispered, voice hesitant. “I had a friend that had to go to the hospital once because of how bad her cramps were and they told her that she—“

You whined, curving your spine impossibly further as an attempt to sooth something, anything. Maybe if you curled up further into a ball it’d hurt less. Penelope could tell she wasn’t helping “Sorry! I thought I was helping with the—“

You were on the latter end of society that suffered period cramps immensely. Back pain, nausea— all of it. It made it impossible for you to come to work the week of your period, but hey, here you were pulling through.

Lucky for you, today had been paperwork day, meaning skimping through countless files was easier than having to run around chasing a serial killer while your uterus was being ripped to pieces.

Soon enough the bullpen's glass doors pulled open and in spilled the rest of the team, Emily chatting along with JJ, Spencer alongside a very enthusiastic Derek and so on.

Penelope continued to rub your back even when you lifted your head and let your chin settle on the desk with a pout that looked as clear as day. Anyone in this building could walk by and notice your clear discomfort— Spencer was no different.

He placed a hand on the back of your chair, ducking down to get a better look at your pitiful state. “Hey,”

“Hi,” You grumbled.

“Should I ask?” Spencer pulled a chair out from the desk beside yours and sat by your side, letting his hands fall in his own lap as he looked up at Penelope.

“I tried helping,” Penelope muttered out. “I get skittish when I don’t know how to help, or what to do and I do this thing with words and—“

You turned your head, laying it flat on its side on your cold desk to get a look at him— a proper one. Your eyes bored more than a million ways to say you were exhausted, and he immediately caught what was up. He always did.

“Doesn’t the fact that I look like a dying corpse give it away?” You complained, face smushed onto the desk

He smiled back. “You don’t look like a dying corpse,”

You blushed. “An already dead one then,”

He shook his head with a huff that left his nose. He scratched at his chin before muttering. “You were a little snappish and grouchy last week,”

Penelope visibly shrinked, thinking Spencer may have just pinched a nerve. “I’m gonna go get you a nice warm coffee, ok?”

It was all she needed to walk away in a hurried movement of heel clicks. You narrowed your eyes at him. Was he insinuating that you had been an utter pain in the ass last week because you were about to get your period?

Noticing this, he half-panicked before quickly jumping into his own defense. “You— uh, I often notice that you get like that the week before which it’s mainly attributed to hormonal fluctuations, particularly changes in estrogen and progesterone levels. They— These hormones can affect neurotransmitters like serotonin and GABA, which regulate mood and emotions.”

“I wasn’t that snappish and grouchy last week,” You knew you had been, because you always were the week before the devil decided to test your limits. You just didn’t really think anyone noticed.

But he did, he always did. And the fact that he did notice was doing funny things to your brain.

He smiled at you. Very softly and almost humorously. “Here—“

You perched up, watching as he reached into his satchel and pushed around in search of— well, something. He pulled out a bag and plopped in on the desk.

You reached over and grabbed the crumpled white paper bag “—I uh, you mentioned wanting a bag of swedish candy a few days ago, especially the sour ones, and me and Morgan walked by a shop and yeah— I figured why not get you some,”

He was doing that very expressive thing he did with his hands where he flared them around as he talked, but you just stared at the bag and then looked up at him.

The pink tint on his cheeks was evident as he avoided eye contact with you. Your shoulders slumped down, bag laying flat in your lap, while trying so hard to keep the tears from coming out of your eyes.

“Can I have a hug?”

Spencer cut himself short from the mumbling, looking up from the floors to study your face. He looked mostly confused, not really being able to pinpoint what was going through your head with your request. He had to be a very, very stupid man to deny your request.

His eyebrows pinched together, probably concerned for you, and that did no better for your upcoming waterworks. His voice came out in the very soft and caring way it always did when he was worried for you.“Yeah, of course,”

He pushed the wheels of the chair he had just pulled out and scooted closer to your own chair. His arms reached out for you, and you slumped forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and burying your face into it.

“Thank you,” You muttered. His hands tightened around your back, giving it a firm rub. He breathed in the sweet scent of you, basking in the strong vanilla that intoxicated every fiber of his being.

Being there for you as a friend, even infatuated as much as he was with you, was hard— but so worth it when he at least was allowed these moments with you.

You wanted to melt into him and not move a single muscle ever again. Why would you when your most comfortable place was in Spencer arms. It could never get better than this.

“You ok?” He mumbled into your hair, and you buried yourself deeper into his neck.

“Yeah, just wanna stay here for a bit,”

He smiled to himself, feeling you cling to him like dead body weight. As long as you felt a little better, he had no room to complain.

1K notes · View notes

dira333 · 3 months ago

Text

The best hugger in town - Aomine Daiki x Reader

for @shoulmate

“Tetsu-kun gives the best hugs,” Satsuki points out.

“I disagree,” you tell her calmly, not looking up from your book.

“But-!”

“Uhuh,” you shake your head, not losing your spot. “You’re just saying that because you’re into him. But as someone who’s not biased, I give him a five out of ten. He’s straight middle field.”

On your right, Daiki snorts under his breath. You lose your spot, furrowing your brows as you try to find it again. What sentence were you reading again?

“But-” Satsuki’s looking for the right words. “Wait, wait… what about the others then? I bet he’s better at hugging as the rest. Right?”

“He’s better than Midorima,” you agree, your brows relaxing. “He’s way too stiff.”

“When did you hug Midorima?” Daiki asks, turning. His left foot knocks against yours, throwing you off your spot in the page yet again. With a huff, you close your book. It’s no use, it seems.

“A few months ago,” you recall. “Appartenly Oha Asa called for it.”

“Bullshit,” Daiki spits out, sitting up straighter. “I bet he just wanted to know how it feels like and he’s too afraid of Satsuki to ask her.”

“Maybe.” You shrug. “But I give him a three out of ten.”

“See,” Satsuki nods. “Tetsu-kun’s hugs are better than-”

“Sorry,” you interrupt her again, your whole focus on her now. “But don’t forget about Kise. And Murasakibara. Or Akashi.”

Daiki’s glaring holes into your head as Satsuki’s face falls.

“Don’t tell me,” she starts, cutting herself off as you nod.

“Kise gets a seven out of ten. He’s too eager and too careless at the same time. He hit my chin with his shoulder. I almost lost a tooth to it.”

“And Mursakibara?”

“Eight.” You nod solemnly. “I would have bumped it up if not for the fact that he left crumbs in my hair. He’s really warm. And tall.”

Daiki’s turned rigid. Satsuki must have noticed, but she keeps on asking.

“And Akashi?”

“It’s Akashi,” you tell her simply. “He’s perfect.”

“A ten?” Daiki asks, his voice doing something weird.

“Oh, no. He’s a nine.” You shake your head, biting your tongue. “I am into taller guys, you know.”

Satsuki huffs and leans back, missing the way Daiki’s eyes widen. But you don’t miss it. You’ve been looking for it.

His shoe knocks against yours. You knock back.

“Doesn’t matter,” Satsuki declares, oblivious to what’s going on around her. “Tetsu-kun’s the best hugger to me.”

“You should tell him that,” you offer and she nods, getting up.

“You’re totally right. I’m going to tell him right now.”

Maybe you should have pointed out that she still needed to pay her drink, but you don’t really mind her leaving early. After all, a warm hand has grabbed yours under the table, rubbing anxious circles into your skin.

Daiki’s not saying it. So you don’t mention it either.

Eventually he pays, pulls you up by your hand and stuffs your book into his bag, knowing full well your purse can’t contain the monstrosity of a book you’ve decided to read this week.

You’re halfway down the road when he speaks up again.

“So…”

“So?”

“What’s my rating?”

“Do I really have to tell you that?” You ask, “Mr. No one can beat me but me?”

“Heh,” he grins, his confidence shining through. “Don’t tell me I’m a ten out of ten.”

“I don’t think I could possibly rate you,” you admit. “I’m pretty biased, after all.”

Daiki pouts. “Come on. You can’t just rate everyone and not me. Also, how did you get to hug so many of us?”

“I just asked. Most people don’t mind a hug.”

“You… You asked? You asked Akashi if you could hug him?”

“Well, Akashi was a little different. I told him I was in love with you. He hugged me as a kind of consolation. I think he wanted me to do better.”

Daiki’s face is frozen in a mix of bewilderment and indignation as you laugh.

“What do you mean, do better? How could you do better than me?”

You snort. “Oh, Daiki, you’re so full of yourself.”

“Deserved.”

“You lost to Tetsu! Again. And Kagami, cause, you know, they’re both on the same team.”

“No way in hell is Kagami better for you than I am! Does he even read?”

You swing your joined hands up and kiss the back of his, reveling in the way his eyes widen. Even though he doesn’t blush, the signs are always there, you just have to look for them.

“Easy there, tiger. I already love you.”

“You better.” He grumbles, before looking both ways and pulling you down a beaten path into a park, past swingsets, and a Basketball court.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere private,” he tells you over his shoulder, turning left and stopping just short of a group of trees, falling into a slower walk.

“Are you going to murder me now?” You joke. “For hugging Akashi?”

“I should, shouldn’t I? Hugging him before you hugged me.”

“You could have hugged me whenever,” you tell him, “All you needed to do was ask.”

“What? Like, can I hug you?”

“Sure,” you step closer and wrap your arms around him.

For a second, he’s tense, as if you caught him by surprise.

But then, just like always, he softens.

For someone so tall and so full of raw power, Daiki can melt into your embrace in seconds, sinking into your hold while keeping you safe at the same time.

If you would have to describe it, you wouldn’t have words.

He’s incredibly warm, his heat present even through the jacket he’s wearing.

His head sinks against your shoulder, his nose sniffing at your neck.

“What are you doing?” You giggle, curling your fingertips into his shoulders.

“You smell really good,” he drawls out, as if he’s not the one who buys expensive Cologne, who’s probably the best smelling out of all his friends - well, except Akashi maybe, but his Cologne isn’t really your type.

“Next time, when Satsuki asks,” he points out, voice low and gravely, “tell her I’m the best hugger.”

“She won’t believe me.”

“Don’t care.” His lips brush against your skin and you shiver. “I need to hear you say it.”

“You’re so cocky.”

He pulls on a strand of your hair, swaying you from left to right.

You’re not getting out of here anytime soon.

Not that you’re complaining.

“Ah, come here.” Kagami leans down for a hug, pulling you in before you have time to complain. He’s tall and broad, but just like Kise, he doesn’t account for the difference in size, knocking your head back with his shoulder.

“Ouch,” you say, sensing Daiki’s laughter before you hear it.

“Not a ten out of ten,” he jokes, pulling you to his side. Quieter, he whispers “No one can beat me but you.”

#my writing #aomine daiki x reader #aomine daiki #aomine x reader #aomine daiki fluff #aomine fluff #knb x reader #knb fluff #kuroko no basket #gom

580 notes · View notes

waterfae · 3 months ago

Text

Kill My Lord Husband [Part 1]

Summary: Your father has decided to marry you off – and to a Blackwood no less! But you want nothing to do with the famously known Bloody Ben, not when your heart already belongs to another. Your solution? Kill your lord husband.

Pairings: Benjicot “Davos” Blackwood x Reader, Aeron Bracken x Reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence, adult language, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers, arranged marriage, house-neutral fem!reader, no use of Y/N, absolute nonsense, no beta

Word Count: 1.7+ K

Part: 1 | 2 | 3

“A marriage proposal has been accepted.”

With wide eyes, you looked up from your dinner plate and towards your father, “A marriage proposal?” Your voice shook slightly and your heart raced with anticipation. There was only one man you could think of at this moment who had any interest in marrying you – you in him – and the thought of that particular man made it feel as though your entire body was ascending up to the heavens. At long last, your hidden lover had gotten the courage to seek out your father and ask for your hand. You tried to contain your knowing smile as you took a sip from your cup and played off your excitement. You asked a follow up, though you arrogantly foresaw the answer, “And to whom, may I ask?”

“Benjicot Blackwood.”

You spit out your wine; confidence immediately deflated and your ascension halted as a great monstrosity reached out and pulled you back down into the depths of hell. That was not the name you expected to come from your father’s lips.

“Benjicot Blackwood?!” You sputtered while your handmaiden rushed forward to assist with the mess you made, “You choose for me to subjugate myself, my future, my happiness...to House Blackwood?” Panic set in, evident by the rising shrill and breathiness of your voice, “You can’t be serious?”

“What is wrong with the Blackwoods?” Your father asked, oblivious to the extremity of your anguish and continued to cut into his roasted duck, “They have long been our friends, a good family with good standing –” he paused to place a piece of the meat into his mouth, “You will be well taken care of.”

“That may be, but –” You attempted to interject, but were stopped with a casual wave of his fork.

“Benjicot Blackwood will be Lord of Raventree Hall once his father passes and you, its Lady.” He looked upon you with proud eyes, “Is that so bad a future?”

You stared at your father incredulously and tried to hold his gaze, but were unable to do so. Not when he was looking at you with such delight on his features, as if he had just done something exceptional rather than damning. It was far from what you genuinely desired. Still, you replied, eyes downcast, “No, of course not.” Because it was the truth. Any woman of the realm would be fortunate to marry into such an old and noble house. There was no denying that. “I just thought…” Your voice trailed and you swallowed back the words, for if you said them out loud, it would mean the future that you had planned for yourself was now truly lost.

“Thought what?” He asked once he realized you were not going to complete your statement, “Of your little Bracken knight?”

Your head snapped back up at him, shocked at the revelation: he knew. Your love, as it turned out, wasn’t so hidden after all and it made you wonder if the pitying look he gave you now made the entire situation even worse. You pondered further: if your father knew of your relations with the young knight, why even engage in acts that would bring about the situation in the first place?

“My darling daughter,” He began as he reached out and patted your hand in an attempt to comfort you, “It is time. You are already one and twenty.” He hesitated at first in saying his following remark, sure that it would hurt you further, but quickly decided that it was better to be honest, “And he has never asked.”

So, that was why. How does one accept a proposal that never comes?

First was an intake of air, then the sound of wood scrapping against the stone floor as you pushed your chair back from the meal. You rose up from your seat with a blank expression and side-stepped away from your place at the table before announcing, “I’ve lost my appetite.” Finally, you removed yourself from the dining hall with your father looking solemnly after your retreating form.

In your chambers, you paced back and forth. It was hot. So very hot. You could feel the burning of your skin as you fanned yourself and you knew, without even having to look into a mirror, that your face was flushed. Beads of sweat began to form at your temple. Your hands shook. And everything felt so tight – so constricting. Your chest heaved as you tried to gasp for air; you couldn’t get your lungs to expand enough in order to take in the much needed oxygen – dread seemed to fill it in its stead. You couldn’t decide which was more suffocating: the clothes or the deplorable reality you were currently facing. Eventually, your fingers found their way to the front of your bodice and you began to fumble with the laces wanting nothing more than to get the accursed article off of you. You ripped it from your body as it came loose before throwing the wretched thing across the room and let out an enraged holler.

He promised, you thought as tears threatened to fall, he promised for many moons now that he would finally go to your father and ask for your hand; announce your love before the whole realm and make you truly his. But as always, he moved too slowly. Cautious. At times, too cautious. And now with his delay, you were going to be sent away to become a Blackwood.

You hunched over to pull off your slippers then threw them unceremoniously against the wall in a vain attempt to quell your anger. With your stockinged feet, you stomped towards the nearest window and screamed into the night, hoping that the breeze would carry your message to its intended.

“Aeron Bracken! You fucking coward!"

The days moved swiftly thereafter and soon enough a week had passed since the announcement of your betrothal, a week since you sent a raven to Aeron, and a week since you waited for a reply that never came. It left a bitter taste in your mouth and an even more sour mood as you sat in the wheelhouse that carried you towards what would be your new home: Raventree Hall. It was there where you would officially meet your betrothed and have the ceremony. Had you not been so heartbroken by your knight’s lack of response, you may have put up a much greater resistance to the marriage. But you were, so you didn’t. It did not help matters that your Lord Paramount actually favored the union, which sealed your fate if nothing else had already. So there you were, sitting across from your father while Atlanna, your most favorite handmaiden and dearest friend, sat to your left as you traveled west.

“A storm brews, my lady.” Atlanna stated candidly as she peeked through the window on her side.

“Does it?” In turn, you peeled back the curtain on yours to observe for yourself the dark clouds that slowly began to roll in; it was as though the heavy weather stalked your very mood. You released the curtain and turned your attention away from the window, slumping into your seat with your arms crossed over your chest, “Perhaps it shall bring about a flood in which I can drown.”

Atlanna let out a small chortle at your antics while your father simply shook his head.

By the time you arrived to the castle, it was already the afternoon and the sky had completely turned overcast, though the rain refused to fall, much like your tears. That tight feeling in your chest returned and you could feel it claw its way up to your neck as you journeyed past the castle gates and closer to the entrance where your future family stood to receive you. Sensing your nerves, Atlanna placed one of her hands over yours and squeezed. You looked over at her and smiled weakly as you squeezed hers back, glad that your father allowed her to leave the household in order to bring her along with you; it would make putting on your brave face much easier and give you at least one ally among your new house.

The wheelhouse slowed and finally came to a stop, prompting your father to stand from his seat and push the door open. You took in a deep breath and steeled yourself, following in your father’s footsteps with Atlanna right behind you. However, as you neared the final steps, your foot slipped and you felt yourself falling forward.

‘Oh’s’ and gasps were heard from the small group gathered before you. You closed your eyes and braced yourself for the impact against the cold, muddy ground, but it never happened. Instead, you felt your body turn as a strong arm wrapped itself around your waist and the other cradled your head, preventing your fall.

Slowly, you opened your eyes and found yourself staring at someone’s chest; your savior was taller than you which forced you to look up. You wished you hadn’t. It was then that you realized that the gods had granted your prayer and sent you to drown, drown, drown. But rather a flood, it was into a pair of stormy eyes. Your heart quickened and your lips parted as you let out a small gasp, still unable to look away. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. He bore down into yours as well, but with what emotion, you couldn’t quite grasp. It felt like an eternity before someone finally let out a chuckle.

“Well, that’s one way to introduce yourself.” Lord Samwell Blackwood laughed and strode over to the pair of you with a wide grin, your body still encased in the young man’s arms. “My lady,” He began once he reached you both and placed a hand on each of your shoulders, “Meet my son, heir to Raventree Hall, and your future lord husband. Benjicot Blackwood.”

Something in your mind suddenly shattered upon hearing his name and you were finally able to blink away from Benjicot’s gaze. You hadn’t realized until then how tightly you had been gripping onto his tunic and as much as you wanted to let go, you weren’t sure if you could with the strength in your legs slowly dissipating. Your eyes darted from Benjicot to his father, then to your father, whose smile was just as wide and full of amusement as Lord Blackwood’s, then back to Benjicot who’s grip on your waist only tightened. You looked up into his eyes once more and a familiar fluttering in your stomach began.

Your eyes widened with recognition.

Oh, shit.

a/n: I recently rejoined tumblr and a few weeks ago I posted a poll to find which character you wanted me to torture first and the Benjicot girlies prevailed. So this is me dipping my toe into the HOTD fandom. I hope I do these characters justice. I was initally going for a longer chapter, but honestly, just wanted to get something out there lol. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and my askbox is always open. ♡

And yes, that was a teeny tiny reference to @spider-stark's fic Little Bracken Knight. 🤭

taglist: @pantheonofbeauty @cregansfourthwife @spicyteaandcrumpets @accidentpronedork @cococrazy18

@witch-moon-babe @a-romantic-twst @flusteredmoonn @nixtape-foryou @flowerprincezz

#hotd #house of the dragon #benjicot blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #🧚🏻‍♀️࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟfaefic

406 notes · View notes

tarjapearce · 1 year ago

Text

Poppy Blue

Blue Jones! Miguel x Baby Doll! Reader.

Art by @marbipa on x

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Power play, choking kink, rough sex, mentions of abuse, preying, toxic and perverted behavior, implicit clandestine and illegal activities, lobotomy, dissociation, implicit depersonalization, objectification, hate sex, manhandling, violence, sub space. No Proofread.

Summary: Messy things ~ (I guess?) Miguel as Blue Jones from Sucker Punch.

A/N: Watched Sucker Punch last night and... yeah. Had to get this out of my system. ~ Another one for the Miguelverse ~

Masterlist

All it took was a bullet. Aimed at your assailant with no intentions of missing. Yet you did. You missed, failed terribly so. His chest was your goal, instead it went directly to his shoulder.

Projectile ripping and scorching skin, tissue and muscle in the go, earning a shaky and pained yelp. But it was the least he deserved after trying to be sneaky on your sister, that laid cold and bled out in the floor. She was no match for his knife and his blood thirst of the night. The rest was a blur.

And now, you were dragged down to the wet and dull greys walls of your future home. Lennox House. Or rather Lennox Asylum for the Mentally Ill.

Everything about the place screamed danger, everything about the people working in the monstrosity of place yelled I'm no better.

Barefoot, soaked in rain, holding your new uniform and gazing at the biggest man you've seen in you life, holding a bunch of keys while his eyes bore into you.

The way he stared made your skin crawl and it didn't help your clothes clung to your body. Arms braced the uniform closer to your chest, trying to cover it up. His eyes wandered to the man behind you, a police officer with three scratched lines into his face. You hadn't left him unscathed. Not when he tried to play rough with you back at your old home.

The man showed you around, place was as depressing as it was from the outside, but The Theater took the prize.

Girls your age dressed in gray, socializing in the area. And by socializing it'd mean to watch them either receive therapy with a polish beautiful woman named Vera Gorski, or watch them fight over the stupidest things. But who could blame them?

Some probably had enough time inside that had memorized the cracks in the wall, the scratches on the floor, the number of chewed gums underneath the table or how many dust particles were accumulated in the windows. Gray. Everything was gray and dull.

Even the voice of the men behind you talking about a price for your silence were tiresome and dry. Two thousand. That's what your memories were valued as. A number you now hated.

Corrupt pigs

The police officer gave you a gentle push forward as a nurse came to fetch you. The simple touch of that man made your skin revolt and slapped him hard across his wilting face, a scowl on your grimace that slowly turned into a smirk as the police officer tried to catch you, but you were being dragged away by two nurses into a life that would turn your head upside down and backwards, the many times it saw fit until you'd understand that you weren't in charge.

Until you'd understand your purpose.

Dance.

"If you don't dance, you have no purpose."

Madam Gorski murmured to you. Pretty, dangerous and aware of the many many situations revolving in the brothel. Cause in truth, the asylum was just an alibi and a frontage for the real deal. House Lennox. A house of pleasure.

Bets, drinks, sex, meds and a hell of a show to anyone that filled Miguel's pockets.

The main attraction? Girls that society deemed unfit to keep within her picky guts. Too into messy situations to keep the pretense around relatives. Too fucked up to function properly but good enough to mold and shape into something useful, and too tempting to break even further.

She mumbled while circling you, her dark eyes scrutinized you unabashedly, taking in everything her sight could reach. Pursing her pouty lips upon your body.

Pretty, scared, still holding a grip on reality while trying to swallow a really hard to deglute pill, and oh so perfect for a new purpose.

"We do not keep things in here that serve no purpose."

The collide of her cane on the floor was like a metronome, setting the pace to enter a forbidden place, somewhere that none could reach but you. Mind splitting in two, dissociating soul from conscience, leaving an empty, moving vessel behind. You were free for a moment. And now you wanted more, more of that place where your imagination ran rampant.

Where Gorski's words meant nothing, where the guards had no power, where you were allowed to break down and feel without second intentions or being frowned upon. But mainly, without Miguel’s preying gaze licking you raw while undressing your form with it.

But the clapping and praising brought you back to this reality. Red eyes fell upon you, studying, raking over your body upside down, stopping at your thighs to then go back to your flushed and breathless face.

Mr. O'Hara. Miguel 'Blue' O'Hara. The asylum guard, the key bearer, perverted pimp, and your new shadow.

Ever since that dance many things changed.

Even though you danced, duties in the asylum weren't to be neglected. If you said no, you'd get a visit to the hole.

If you didn't dance, you'd get a visit to the hole.

But if you didn't do things Miguel's way, you'd get a personal talk with him, and then a visit to the hole.

And those talks, surely weren't words.

Scrubbing the floors gave you the chance to listen a bit of everything. Girl's derangements, psychotic outbreaks, mumblings that were filled in with regret and many more flourishing emotions; the ever loud music from the cook, and the unceasing mewls and obscene noises coming from Miguel's office.

Some girls misbehaved on purpose, just to get a taste of him. Others did anything to draw his attention to them, specially in the dance floor. But you knew better to anger him.

Sure, pleasure came in hand with a high price. He wasn't good, he wasn't nice nor gentle, matter-of-factly some girls cried during their one on one sessions and the degradation only enhanced the tears.

Sick fuck.

Gorski's alarms flared up upon seeing belt marks on their legs and ass, bites in their inner thighs and bruises on their hips. Eyes a bit too gone and tired to actually work in anything. They might have spread the gossip around of Miguel fucking them, and even enjoyed it.

But the aftermath of it, said otherwise. And it was enough to keep you on check, but even so he was pulled to you like a magnet so strong you could see the refrain in his eyes every time he approached you.

Hands shaky, tongue rubbing and wetting his plump lips, a soft flush on his cheeks and pleading eyes. A silent 'Let me play too' cause he wasn't allowed to touch, or taste you. Instead, he'd use the girls willing to please him to take his anger out. Their bodies meant nothing, they meant nothing cause they weren't you.

They didn't have your body, they didn't have your sweet voice that distorted into moans and gasps that he'd kill to induce every time you danced, but above all, they didn't have your spark.

That little interaction with the police when you first arrived, had him folding on a bathroom, stroking himself to oblivion at the mere sound of your slaps.

Unbeknownst to you, you held so much power over him. Power he was set to dull, because he was the only one in control. Not even Gorski and her stupid polish methods to get in the rest's head. He ran the place and had it under control.

For how long though?

You wanted out. His little Poppy wanted out and surely would get everything to be free and leave him, forsake him in this damned place.

Anger flowed within his veins like molten lava upon remembering how other men looked at you, how other men wanted you. They'd possibly been imagining how good and tight your insides would feel cause the way you moved when you were up in the stage, was surreal. It was like another person took over.

But he, a sick fuck through and through, would want both. No. He'd have both. He craved and needed both, even better when you were dressed in such things that only added more dry bones to his needy fire.

Fucking lucky of them to feel you and be a your second skin. Even that stupid and everything but innocent uniform you were to dress every day, stirring up enough to let him take a peek of your panties, or the stockings underneath that remained etched on your supple thighs he'd often fantasize in getting lost between.

He just had to wait for you to misbehave. But sadly you didn't seem keen into breaking the rules. He'd wait.

---

"Stormy, come."

Vera called another girl. Whoever gave their names either knew them too well or picked random words in a go. Gorski too engrossed into her lessons to notice you had been dragged away by other guards under Miguel's petition.

Had you forgotten about something? No. Surely not. Last week's chores were fulfilled completely, the bathrooms were clean, the kitchen's dishes turn were washed up, and so were the floors. Your wrists sore, a reminder to ask for a new brush.

And-

Shit.

Fuck.

The laundry.

Some dancers had ran out of stockings, lingerie, and some sheets from the brothel needed to be replaced ASAP.

But you, Poppy, as Vera had called you and it stuck with the rest ever since, had trouble. Just cause you had forgotten about the damn laundry.

Miguel's formidable frame came into view, he was on a call, lying on how well someone's daughter was doing after a lobotomy. How they didn't have to worry about her anymore.

Your stomach felt sick and your heart leaped on your chest once he ended up the call. The guards had been long gone, leaving you with your shadow alone.

If honest, you knew Miguel either followed or kept you watched under hawk's eyes. Time stopped as soon as he turned to face you.

Pupils wide blown as soon as you came into his sight.

"My sweet, sweet Poppy."

He inhaled deeply and clasped his hands together before his face. An uncontainable smirk morphed into a light titter.

"You've been a bad girl, princesa."

His hands slamming on the table before him made you jolt and blink at his sudden mood shift.

"We..." He wetted his lips as he came behind you, "We were counting on you, Mi cielo. But... you failed us. Failed me."

A gulp as his breath fanned over the crook of your neck.

"You see..." His big and long fingers brushing your hair away from the right side of your head joint, "Now I gotta improvise something for the next show. "

"I'm sorry, I forgot-"

His hand took a hold of your neck and the contact made him growl. Warm, smooth, feeling every heartbeat underneath his big and calloused palms.

Lips dangerously close to your ear, breathing and panting as he pulled you closer to him, your back colliding against his torso and abdomen.

"Shh"

He hushed while taking a big whiff off you. A mix of soap, perfume and cigarettes. His hand squeezed tighter, earning a lovely and sweet yelp from you as he pushed you against his desk.

Your eyes widened in surprise upon feeling the hardening cock in between the slot of your thighs, poking, begging to be released and finally take you.

"You remind me of someone. Too bad she lost her spark."

His hand riled the skirt of your uniform up, passing up some layers of extra clothing, your underwear and stockings. Hand plunged inside to finally allowing his fingers to have a sample of your flesh.

"But I'm keeping yours alight, sweetheart."

His cock twitched when he found your clit. Fingers dexterous and peeling the outer folds away to give a gentle rub before you closed your legs almost instantly. A little delaid reaction, your brain was still processing it.

You went completely still when he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips. He sucked them off with hunger, groaning and trembling at the taste.

"Por Dios, preciosa..."

You tried to pry his hand out of your neck but the struggle made his breathings more labored and needy as he humped and ground against you from behind. Letting his tip to speak volumes at how hard and wanton he was. How bad you made him react. How much power you had over him.

Of course.

The idea of having him subdued to you assaulted your mind. Pressuring you into pleading, just like your clit that clenched and twitched upon having his tip rubbing in a slow yet firm strokes.

His hands went back inside your panties, searching for the nub of nerves that had you melting. Tongue skimming at the tender skin of your neck.

Just as he was about to bury a finger knuckle deep, the ever annoying voice of Vera urging Miguel from outside the door, asking for you. Her dear and lovely Poppy.

"Chingada madre" (Fucking shit)

He sighed with an exasperated growl and looked at the door.

"The fuck you want?!"

"I need Poppy on the practice. Now."

Where was the shocking baton when he needed it the most?

For once, you were relieved to know that you didn't go unnoticed under Gorski's watch. She protected the girls in her own way.

Knees trembled as he kept the hand inside. A little miscalculation had you whimpering while his fingers remained trapped in your flesh. His eyes snapped back on you with a smirk.

A hand clasped on top of your mouth, suffocating any moans as he worked his fingers between your pussy. Touching and prodding at the forbidden flesh, a moan vibrated through his hand with a high pitched Hmm

"I'll get her to you right away!"

Miguel yelled while working his fingers harder and faster, alternating between rubbing and fucking your hole with them.

"Spread your legs wider, pretty baby" The husk of his voice made you close your eyes and hips hump ever shyly at his hands. Gaining as much friction as possible.

"Miguel, I need her now."

He grumbled under his breath while moving his hands faster. The wet smooch and sucking squelch had him humping against your panties, breaths agitated, muttering something you could only decipher as filth in spanish, your hands clenched onto him, tightly fisted on his clothes.

Just a bit more

He heard Vera cursing in her native tongue as he prodded his fingers inside, toying with your opening. Stretching and fucking it at his likings.

"You fucking little slut"

He tittered while rubbing furiously in your clit. A bit too rough that had you bucking and trembling in his arms. If his hands made you quiver and melt he couldn't wait to see what his cock could do. You drenched his fingers.

Said fingers were cleaned up again by his mouth with a droopy and pleasure drunk face.

Despite having your legs shaky, he held you by the hips, and forced you to grab onto his desk. His hands quickly fumbled with his pants and boxers, pulling his cock out.

He stroked a couple of times, tip susceptible to stimulation. He pulled the panties aside, your stockings the only barrier between you and his erection. The flimsy layer of clothes instantly adhered to your soaked skin, He pushed in between your thighs, rubbing his cock back and forth with slow thrust against your pussy. His hot length brushed against the already engorged and sensitive nub.

The tightness of your warm thighs smooshed together created the perfect friction hole for him without actually penetrating you. So close and yet so far of that forbidden territory. Soft mewls and whimpers came out your mouth, too enraptured in feeling than verbalizing your pleasure.

He also needed his toys. Specially his favorite. Stockings were thoroughly soaked the more he pushed his cock in and out. Labia clothed and slicked parted to feel his shallow moves. He used you as his fleshlight, his hips smacking yours. His chest rumbled with animalistic and low growls.

His hands were clumsy as the pleasure turned overwhelming, you could see the flushed tip of him peeking out your thighs, the urge of tasting him turned bigger the faster he went. You were trying so hard to keep it as quiet as possible.

"Wished I was inside you, don't you?"

You gasped as he purposely angled his tip in your dripping hole. A shivering breath was all he received.

He took you by your chin and squeezed

"Don't you?!"

"Y-Yes!"

"Yes, what?!"

"Yes, sir."

Jesus fucking Christ.

He pushed in deeper in your cunt, his cock pushed a bit of the stockings inside as he doused it with his cum, unable to hold back any longer, marking you.

You had never heard a man pant and wheeze like that before. So deep, raspy, needy, cradling you tighter, anchoring to you as he shook his orgasm out.

"Fuck- Ay Dios, fuckfuck-"

He slurred while engulfing your frame against the table. Breathings matching his erratic ones.

Your skin between supple thighs felt clammy and sticky. Black stockings ruined completely by the white and wet patch of his scent.

Hot breath fanned over your neck.

"Can't wait to feel the real de-"

The door banged.

"Boss! We need you!"

The guards and Vera had proposed to fuck around with him cause his patience had been tested many times.

Your steps marching away from him snapped him out of his thoughts, He blinked and held you by the wrist, pulling you once more to him to kiss you.

Your first kiss in years. Soft but needy and filled in with a promise to fulfill later.

Now that he had a taste, there was none to stop him. He'd take his favorite toy and go home.

----

Freedom was taken away from you, right before your eyes. Forsaken by your so called friends, marooned by the crew you had gathered within the depths of despair. Your hope had given them a chance at surviving, your courage had transformed you into a fucked up sisterhood, but it was their greed that made you the ultimate sacrifice to their success.

You could only watch while thrashing your way out, but the more you fought, the more guards came to you, but one in particular pulled you out of the mess like a feather. But you didn't stop fighting. Not even when your tabs were in absolute zero probabilities of winning, not when Miguel dragged you inside manhandling your crying form like a ragdoll.

Scratches, fists and other punches didn't move him in the slightest. His grip tightened once you both were locked up in his office once more. He tossed you on the floor.

"Why... Why did you want to leave?"

His tone menacing yet hurt.

The idea of you almost slipping away from him had sent him in a berserk mode that unleashed hellbent through the asylum. Just to find you and when he did, he wanted nothing but hurt you, just the way you've hurt him.

Wasn't his attention enough? , wasn't him being lenient on you and your chores enough? Wasn't he enough?

"WHY?!"

You were too dumbfounded to process his question. Too marked with shame at your failure and rage to pay him attention, and that alone sent him grabbing you by the neck and crash you against a vanity. Tossing everything above it to the floor.

Your back collided against the now shattered mirror, you yelped but still managed to slap him and that made him groan and nod frantically.

Yes

One of his hands was more than enough to hold your both arms as he positioned between your thighs, pressing further against you.

"You don't like me, Poppy? Why?"

"Let me go!"

His hand squeezed your neck tightly, cutting all air for a minute while he kissed you. Sloppy, angry and so full with lust and rage. It gave you no time to react while his other hand tore the panties from underneath your skirt.

You kept slapping him, but that only enticed him to spread you further

"Love that fucking spark on you, preciosa."

He then thrashed you against the table sending a painful jolt through your body, It made you still for a moment.

"No! No! Don't-" his eyes widened in panic, "Don't lose it. Please-"

"No" You panted, "Just found it" A flower vase was smashed in his forehead. And that granted you freedom from his hands as you fell on the floor, gasping for air and crawling away from him.

Heavy steps echoed, trailing dangerously after you. Miguel took you by the ankle and dragged you towards him.

"No!"

He hissed and pulled you upwards, like a statuette, and slammed your torso against the desk you had been clenching onto. All air knocked out your lungs.

A hand passed over his buckle and removed in a swift motion his belt in one go. The sight of your pussy peeking underneath the ruffles of your skirt made a smile that didn't reach his eyes to appear.

He quickly got the belt around your neck, your hands instantly pried, or at least tried to pry it away, scratching yourself in the process. The smell of copper filled in the air, the vase had broke the skin of his forehead.

"You fucking ungrateful bitch!"

He secured the belt tighter and you wheezed, hands flailed to get a hold of him. Fingers already prodding and toying with your cunt, to his surprise, the struggle and fight turned you on, knowing that a man wanted you so badly that would do anything to have you, and you denying such power had you soaked.

Specially when the man in question was this 6'9" cell guard that wanted nothing but to wreck you, destroy you the way you had destroyed his fucked up illusions.

"All I did for you, everything I did meant shit for you-"

He rasped before slapping your butt with such force it stung and left a red imprint on the now reddening flesh.

"I didn't... a-ask you for shit!"

He grunted at your broken words as he pulled the makeshift leash backwards, separated your legs and pulled out his cock once more.

"There we go, baby"

"Y-You're so pathetic-"

Words died in your throat as he slid inch by inch inside. The intrusion made you sob a feeble whimper, it burned and hurt, but in a way you weren't expecting and you liked it.

"Me? Pathetic? Ay muñeca, is not me whose gonna beg me to stop" He pulled your face towards him and kissed you once more, "You won't even remember your name once I'm done with you."

He buried to the hilt as he watched your expression. Troubled yet blissful. A little grip was loosened as he felt you were about to speak again.

"You talk too much shit-."

Part of you regretted said words, cause he smashed your head in the desk and dug his fingers around your hips.

"Is that so?"

Nothing had you prepared for the assailing onslaught of his hips. Fucking was a measly word compared to what he actually was doing to your poor and snug cunt.

It wasn't slapping, his hips thwacked yours with such force you were sure your cervix would be bruised and your legs wouldn't walk properly for the next few days, but as it hurt, it felt good. Too good for your own comfort. Specially when propped a leg ontop of a stool for more leverage to ruin you deeper.

A garbled moan came out your lips, before gritting your teeth together and shaking your head vehemently. He laughed in between deep growls and moans.

"Am I dulling that spark, muñeca?"

Your body lurched forwards, pussy drenched him with every remorseless push he delivered. Eyes struggling to keep on the front, but it was unavoidable to have them rolling back as your jaw slacked open.

High pitched wails rumbled out of your gaping mouth, permeating the once silent room. Two of his fingers slid in your mouth, hot breath colliding against them. They hooked forcing your mouth to keep open.

The desk shook under your weight, the room filled in with moans so sweet and delicious, unlike the many that had been under him.

You were experiencing first hand the danger. Miguel wasn't nice, he wasn't gentle. The latter made an emphasis on its own as he pulled the belt impossibly tighter. A gurgling and rasping noise came from your throat. He wasn't squeezing anymore, he was choking you.

And Dios mio, you were sure you'd die. But dying sounded way too much of a reward than staying in this awful place.

"Yes"

You hissed in between butchered pants and wheezing mewls. Mind set in welcoming the reaper as air was still cut out of your lungs. Legs too weak to keep on their own. Dizziness fogging your mind, fire engulfing your body, Your cunt slurped him in, wetness no longer an issue since he slid and out so easily.

The only indicator you still had consciousness was the little pathetic cries you did as his hips plowed you with a new intensity you didn't know possible.

He had been whispering the filthiest things into your ear, a couple of degrading words you couldn't quite hear, too busy being cock drunk and slipping in and out of consciousness.

Your torso and arms laid in between his arms and the desk, his upper body keeping you still as his hips did the whole assault. His face too snatched in a myriad of things.

Pride cause he finally got to have you and proved you wrong, lust cause you felt just like he had imagined, anger because of your previous words. He was the one that was rawing you into oblivion, had your brain turned upside down, not Gorski, and had you cumming with such an intensity it was overwhelming and too much for your brain to digest.

Too much.

The choking had your brain's fuse in a shortcut, shutting itself off for what it felt like forever, until he spilled himself inside. Renovating your walls white.

Hot cum spurted and not a single drop was wasted as he made sure you kept it inside.

His hulking figure trembled, torn in between subtle and violent spasms that shook him to his very core and raged pants that sent a shiver down your sore spine.

He finally had you and you were his. He wasn't letting you go. Not when he was about to give you a new purpose.

Being his.

---

Everything that he thought good and right blurred. Eyes filled in with tears at your state. Gone. Gone from this world, gone from him, the spark had vanished.

How this happened?

His mind raked through the memories, trying to find the right moment everything went to shit.

He signed a paper. A lobotomy authorization in your behalf.

No!, no!.

"Come back" He pleaded while kissing you and squeezing his hands on the joint of your head and shoulders, to pry something out of you. But nothing came.

The spark had been lost.

And so were you.

"Please, muñeca"

He sobbed and cradled you in his arms, but there was no push, no retaliation, nothing. Only a lovely vessel of his love.

You were gone. For real.

He had been so naive to believe that fucking you senseless meant to have you. He had been such a fool to fall for such a simple thing as that.

And now he had lost you. His own hand brought his demise. Guards and Gorski dragged him out, his hand latched on to you, but even your skin felt different.

"Poppy!"

He yelled but you didn't answer. Just watched him with a look that shattered his heart.

You were free. Free and far far away.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel smut #spiderman 2099 smut #sucker punch #t writes✨#one shot #Miguelverse

1K notes · View notes

pseudowho · 1 year ago

Text

The JJK Boys Catch You Wearing This...

...after they tell you to put on that little red number you have.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Yuuji: Walking through the doorway and calling out to you, Yuuji peeks in the bedroom. As you see him, you stick out one high-heeled leg seductively, pointing your toes and giving a suggestive wiggle.

Yuuji absolutely falls apart with laughter, grasping the doorframe for support as tears pour down his face. Tries to talk, but every time he looks at you, he breaks down again.

Finally, stopping to wipe his eyes, he asks: "But did you get me one, too?"

You had, obviously.

Higuruma: "Hey, I'm home!" he calls out to you, throwing his suitcase down and yanking his shirt collar loose. He hears you call him from the bathroom, and pads down, walking in, "It's been a shit and unsuccessful day as usual, but you know what they say--"

You are in the bath, wearing only this, legs draped over the side as you ask him, in your best seductive voice, "Have you ever taken a bath in your clothes, Mr.Higuruma?"

Hiromi stares flatly at you for five seconds. Sighing, he does his shirt back up, turns back to the door and picks up his suitcase.

"Hiromi-- hey-- where are you going?"

"Back to work. There are actually fewer criminals there."

Suguru: Arriving home, sounding tired and resigned, he shouts out to you, "Babe! Is dinner sorted, or do you want me to cook?"

"No, it's okay, I've cooked!"

Heaving a happy sigh-- "ahh, amazing" -- Suguru hustles to the kitchen, "What's for--"

He stops, as there you stand, one stockinged leg up on the kitchen chair as you lean forward, bum wiggling, and--

*click*

You turn to Suguru, your warped cloth face somehow looking absolutely horrified; "Was that...did you just take a photo? Suguru?! Suguru!"

He runs. You'd better believe every mutual friend in Suguru's contact list is receiving that gem.

Nanami: Expensive brown shoes clack on the floor towards the living room-- "Sorry I'm late. I've missed you so much"-- excited to see you and that gorgeous little red--

You are in Nanami's favourite armchair, stockinged legs crossed, heeled foot twiddling, wearing some red monstrosity, and even worse, you've draped one of his ties round your neck--

"Why are you like this?" Nanami huffs, exhausted, deflating. You giggle, shaking with mirth.

"Did Gojo buy you that...thing? I'll pay you to take that off."

Later that evening, you come out of the bathroom to the smell of smoke. Kento stands in the garden, sleeves rolled up, stoking your red costume in the fire pit.

Gojo: "I'm pretty sure I've fought Curses that look like you before," Gojo grinned, arms and legs crossed and leant against the doorframe as you strutted around the living room, laughing to yourself. You moved to remove the costume, satisfied with your joke--

"Ah ah ah, you're not done yet." Your bizarre costumed face stares quizzically at Gojo, who settles on the sofa, legs spread, unzipping his trousers with a wink. He grabs his phone, and puts on some music.

"Dance, cutie. And you'd better believe you can keep that on the whole time."

Toji: You squealed, costumed face hitting the pillows as Toji threw you hard onto the bed, bouncing on your hands and knees. You move to turn, and Toji turns you back round, smacking your bare arse as you squeak again, laughing.

"Dunno what you're laughing about, babe. I've fucked girls uglier than that mask of yours. Face down, arse up."

Sukuna: "I've killed for less than this, woman. Get undressed. Now."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

I'm meant to be writing the next chapter of a thrilling romantic drama. I offer no apologies for myself, I'm ridiculous.

1K notes · View notes

lovecla · 1 month ago

Text

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

chapter eight:

➴ chapter warnings: smut (softdom!quinn, slight degradation, oral sex—m. receiving, protected sex, p in v, praise kink, overstimulation), aftercare, mentions of shitty brother.

➴ word count: 4.9k

💌 from me to you: jesus christ who wrote this!! it wasn’t me!! i swear!

౨ৎ

2024, MAY.

“THIS DOESN’T even look like a pancake, Quinn,” laughing, you stare at the weirdly shaped pancake Quinn had just finished flipping.

“Bella, your mom is being annoying. Tell her to leave me alone.” Quinn talks to Bella like a dad would to a daughter, baby voice and all. Bella, just like the traitor she’d become ever since she met Quinn, barks at you. “Good girl, aren’t you?”

“You are the worst, both of you,” you point at them, sitting on the stool and watching Quinn cook the worst looking chocolate chip pancakes you had ever seen. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I introduced you to her.”

“You were just doing the inevitable. B and I were meant to be.”

You stick your tongue out and roll your eyes.

It was Saturday, eight a.m. and the sun was already shining bright outside, making you and Quinn wake up an hour earlier so you could go for a walk in the forest surrounding the cabin.

“You used to make the most perfect looking pancakes. What happened?” You bicker, smirking when he frowned, looking down at his monstrosity pancake.

“I think they look fine. You’re just too demanding.”

He placed four of the ten pancakes he managed to make in front of you, giving you a kiss on the forehead without saying anything. You liked whenever he did things just because he wanted to.

You cut a piece and slid it into your mouth, almost biting your tongue because they tasted amazing, just like seven years ago.

He looked at you with expectant eyes and even though you wanted to mess with him a little more, those puppy eyes made it hard for you to go any further.

“They’re amazing, babe,” the pet name slipped out of your mouth like you had called him that way your entire life. “You’re still the best chocolate chip pancake maker ever.”

He smiles, eating a bite of it himself and speaking after swallowing. “Do I get a kiss for making the best chocolate chip pancakes ever?”

You pretended to think, tapping your chin with your finger. “Umm. I guess? Maybe. Let me think about it for a bit.”

He chuckles, grabbing your neck and kissing you himself. The kiss tasted like coffee and chocolate, sweet yet bitter, dreamy either way. Kissing Quinn never got old. His tongue caressed yours, the firm grab he had on your neck making you whimper softly.

“Yeah. Sweet.” He confirms after separating your lips.

You finish eating breakfast together, going upstairs so you could change into something lighter and appropriate for a hike. You put on your favorite white sports bra and leggings before putting on your Nike shoes and moving on to put your hair up in a ponytail.

While Quinn got ready, you put on some dog shoes for Bella— completely unnecessary but she looked so damn cute with them— and put on some sunscreen on her nose so she wouldn’t get sunburn.

“Why does she have nicer shoes than I?” Quinn moves behind you, while you were taking pictures of Bella looking cute.

“Because she’s mommy’s sweetest thing. Aren’t you, baby?” You talk with her, using your best baby voice and kissing her face all over.

Quinn laughs behind you. “The day you actually become a mom will be the end of everyone. Just think about how spoiled your kid will be.”

You get up from the floor, raising your brows at him. “The day I ‘actually become a mom’? Excuse me. I gave birth to Bella.”

He stares at you like you’re the craziest human being who ever walked on earth and smiles, placing a hand on your waist.

“Let’s get going then, mommy,” he jokes and you smack him on the chest, calling Bella and grabbing your water bottle.

The forest surrounding your cabin wasn’t much of a big forest, it was more like a bunch of trees lined up with a path in the middle, and you actually preferred it this way, because it was less creepy than going around in dark, deep forests with little to no light.

You and Quinn walked in silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s company and the view, Bella walking ahead of you both, smelling every plant she found on her way.

You could see the lake from where you were and you smiled, feeling happy and peaceful.

That was the best thing of being around Quinn Hughes.

He was calm, and gentle in a way you don’t see much in men anymore. Your last boyfriend, one of the male models who worked with you in LA, was genuinely the definition of what a man shouldn’t be.

At first, Richard was all you could ask for and more. He understood your fears as a young, inexperienced model in her first big girl job and took care of you.

But then, you started to get big, bigger than him. He started complaining about the parties you went to, the dinners, your relationship with Nicholas— a gay man and your friend— and the outfits you wore.

Then he got extremely pissed at you when you got to be the cover of British Vogue, something he’d been wanting for his entire time at IMG. You remember how he yelled and told you you were trying to be better than him, and how you would never outshine him.

You thought about explaining to him that you could never outshine him because you worked for different brands and different people— hell, he was a male model and you were a woman. How could you outshine someone who didn’t even work in the same modelling industry as you?

So you broke up with him, another thing that hurt his ego and made him cry and beg in front of you, pleading for another chance, which you, dumbly, gave it to him.

Only for him to break up with you a week later.

After that, and after another nightly session of stalking the Canucks Instagram page, looking at pictures of Quinn for more time than it should be normal, you gave up and admitted that, unfortunately, you wouldn’t find anyone as good as Quinn.

“How do you think Jack and Luke are doing?” You ask after a while, genuinely curious.

“They’re fine. They asked about you,” he says, casually, making you smile.

“I miss them.”

“You can always call them, you know…” he suggests. “They would love to talk to you.”

“I don’t know…” you start, feeling unsure. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

Quinn frowns at you. “Why would you be a bother?”

You stare at him, forgetting for a second who you were talking to. This was Quinn, talking about Jack and Luke. But for a second, you thought—

“Madison, why are you calling me in the middle of the night?” Peter sounded angry, making you flinch.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you whisper, holding the phone with your shaky hands. “I just miss you. It’s been a while since the last time we spoke.” A while meant seven months.

“Do you think I have the time to sit here and chit chat with you?” He scoffs. “I’m a doctor, Madison. I have a real job, I don’t sit around all day bothering people, taking pictures of myself for other people to see.”

“You know mom chose this job for me…” You try defending yourself, pointlessly.

“Is this a fucking therapy session? I don’t give a fuck, Madison. I need to go back to sleep. Bye.”

He turns the phone off before you even processed what he had just said to you, letting yourself cry for the millionth time since you moved to Los Angeles.

“Maddie?” Quinn’s voice brings you back to the present, making you blink fast and realize you were standing in the middle of the path, Bella sitting beside you and Quinn looking worried.

Great, now I’ve ruined the hike.

“I’m fine, sorry,” you smile, not letting it reach your eyes. “Just… well. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he wraps his hand around yours, pulling you closer to him. “Are you okay, baby? Was it something I said?”

This time your smile was genuine. Quinn never judged you for your accidental mood swings, the ones you tried so hard to hide from him; instead, he just tried to make you feel better.

“No, I think I just miss the boys,” you tell a half truth, liking how Quinn’s hand completely covered yours. “Are you sure they won’t be upset if I call them?”

“Look at your mommy, Bella, asking dumb questions,” he tried to mimic your voice, earning a slap and a giggle from you. “They won’t, baby, I promise. They miss you just as much. You’re family.”

“Ew, don’t say that!” You joke, making a disgusted face. “We just kissed each other on the mouth. That’s weird.”

“Yeah? Well, and I’ll do it again.” His phrase is the only earning you get before his lips are glued to yours again, both of you smiling and almost ruining the kiss.

Bella interrupts you both when she barks, making you seperate yourself from Quinn and smile at her, hands still intertwined with his.

“Bella, we made a deal: I give you that strawberry cookie you like so much and you let me kiss and make out with your mom. What are you doing?” Quinn frowns at Bella while you stare at him, fake angry.

“I’m never letting you be alone with her again. Strawberry cookies? She doesn’t eat sugar!”

“Well, maybe not with you. But she won’t get any more cookies if she gets on my way again.” He tells her and she barks back at him, resuming her walking.

You smile, giggling as they both start bickering with each other, while Quinn makes empty threats.

He would make a great dad, you think, as you watch him take care of Bella, giving her water and snacks he prepared for her behind your back.

You had been walking for a while, chatting about everything and anything, when you felt a single drop of water on your arm. You looked up, watching as the blue sky from before turned into a cloudy, greyish shade.

“We better head back,” you tell Quinn, stopping suddenly and calling Bella. “It’s going to rain.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s just a little cloudy.” He grabs your hand, making you start walking again.

“Quinn, look up. I just felt a drop of water on my arm and it’s cloudy as hell. Let’s go.”

“Maddie, you’re just not used to Vancouver’s crazy weather. It’s not raining.” He stubbornly said.

“You—”

You don’t even get to finish, the rain deciding to make its way down faster than you thought. Heavy yet quick drops of rain fell down on you, Quinn and Bella, getting all of you soaking wet.

“What the hell,” he shouts over the sound of water hitting the floor and quickly turns around, taking you with him. “This is your fault, I hope you know that.”

You watch Bella running in front of you, mesmerized by the fact that she knew the way back. “How is this my fault, Hughes?”

“It just is!” He shouts, making his steps faster. “It wasn’t going to rain. I checked the weather.”

You laugh, not even bothered with the fact that your hair was wet, your clothes were wet, your skin was wet.

“Well, at least it's summer rain, so it should be over in a few minutes,” you say, watching the cabin still a bit far from you. “I hope we still can go to the lake tomorrow.”

“We will,” he guarantees, even though none of you are sure of it.

You get to the cabin after a few minutes and just like you predicted, the rain stopped. Bella was soaking wet just like you and Quinn, and the first thing you did after removing her little shoes was making sure she was as dry as possible, since she didn’t let you use a hair dryer or a towel. Thankfully, it wasn’t cold, so it wasn’t an issue for her to be a little bit wet for a few hours.

You went upstairs, finding Quinn already in the bedroom you were sharing with him, shirtless and with a towel in his hands, drying his somewhat long, gorgeous hair.

You stood there for a minute, watching his body. Quinn had always been fine, that you were sure of, but this was your first time seeing him half naked after seven years— every time you’d made out with him, the only thing he removed were your shirt and panties and his boxers. And even when you were both young, he made sure not to get naked in front of you, because he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.

If the thought of getting uncomfortable over shirtless Quinn was something possible in the past, it sure as hell wasn’t now. All you wanted to do was get your hands all over his body.

You snapped out of it, walking inside the room. “Bella didn’t let me dry her entirely. I hope the owners don’t kill me for letting a half-wet dog on the couch.”

“I highly doubt it,” Quinn removes the towel from his face and smiles at you, before dropping his eyes to your chest for a second.

You get curious and looks down at your chest too, feeling mortified when you realize that your once white, perfectly not transparent sports bra was now just a wet piece of clothing, as transparent as a wet shirt, showing your tits to everyone who wanted to see�� Quinn Hughes, in this case,

Quinn didn’t look bothered by it, but the fact that he had looked… it had to mean something, right?

It wasn’t like he hadn’t been intimate with you before. After that first night at his house, where he fingered you until you came on his couch, you both got each other off on different occasions.

But, for some reason, you never talked about going further, which sometimes left you wondering if he didn’t want it, because you certainly did; Quinn shoving himself inside of you was a very welcome thought.

Maybe now it was time for you to find out if he wanted it, or not.

Pushing your shyness to the side, you let your hair down, combing the wet strands with your fingers. “Do you mind if I change here real quick?” You bat your lashes at him, praying he would say no.

And he did, shaking his head at you and resuming drying the rest of his body.

You turn around, removing your leggings first, sighing with relief because wet leggings were the closest thing to hell you had on earth. Then, you moved on to your bra, letting it fall with a wet thud on the floor, moving around like you were alone in the room, grabbing the towel you brought with you and drying yourself, aware that Quinn’s eyes were on you the entire time.

It was weird only because your teenage horny fantasies were finally coming to life. You remember being nineteen and thinking something was wrong with you because whenever you got off, it was Quinn’s face you imagined on top of you.

And it was weird, because you weren’t even friends anymore. And even if you were, getting off to your best friend isn’t something you should do.

You are both grown. Intimacy between the two of you wasn’t anything new.

But now, as you dried your tits with the towel and pretended you didn’t feel Quinn’s heavy presence surrounding you, you realized that this was something much bigger, different from the other times.

Quinn was looking at you like a man looked at a woman.

“Madison,” he calls you, voice an octave deeper.

You lift your eyes and stare at him, still pretending that you weren’t doing anything.

“What are you doing?”

Damn you, Quinn Hughes, for seeing right through my bullshit.

Still, you decided to play dumb. “What do you mean? I just told you I needed to change.”

“Yeah, change. Not stand in front of me with fucking tiny ass panties and tits out for everyone to see.”

You drop the towel on the chair beside the bed, watching as his eyes run up and down your body, making you feel like a little deer standing in front of a wolf.

He also drops his, and it’s your time to stare at his body, particularly at the tent formed in front of his shorts. He looks huge, and the worst— best—- part is that you already know he is.

“Come here,” he orders, softly, and you’re quick to do as he says. “Wouldn’t expect a girl as sweet as you to act like a whore.”

You bit your lip, already regretting your past actions. You liked when Quinn was mean to you, but you liked so much more when he praised you for being a good girl. His good girl.

“Don’t say that,” You mumble, shaking your head.

He clicks his tongue, lifting his hand and gently running his finger over your tits. He mindlessly draws invisible lines, circling your nipples and playing with your boobs while you hold back your moans.

“Why not, hm?” He squeezes your right nipple between his index and his thumb, making you open your mouth slightly. “I always said you were well behaved, sweet; I told you you’re my sweet girl, but maybe I was wrong?”

You shake your head, trying to speak despite his hold on your nipple.

“No, you weren’t,” you breathe. “‘M sweet, I swear.”

He hums, moving on to your right tit, doing the same thing he did seconds ago to the other one. “I don’t know about that, Maddie. Sweet girls don’t undress in front of men the way you did.”

“I just—”

“If you need me to take care of you, all you have to do is ask. You have done it before, what made you stop now?”

You look away, embarrassed. Maybe the fact that Quinn hadn’t fucked you yet wasn’t his doing, it was yours.

“Look at me when I talk to you, baby,” voice steady and firm, he orders, removing his hand from your chest and gently holding your chin, forcing your eyes to stare at his. “Now answer my question, pretty.”

“I just need you,” you whisper, squeezing your thighs together, embarrassingly wet, and not only because of the rain anymore.

“You have me. I am right in front of you.”

You shake your head, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I want you. I want you i-inside me.”

“Oh?” He tilts his head. “Is that so?”

You nod, hoping and praying that he’d finally give you what you want. And fast.

He stepped back, making you almost cry with how cold you felt. Then, he locked the bedroom’s door and walked back at you, kissing your lips feverishly.

His tongue entered your mouth and his hand gripped your wet hair, roughly. His other hand pushed you back, making you sit on the bed. He steps back again, and just when you were ready to tell him to get closer, he removes his wet clothes, standing naked in front of you.

Quinn was pretty, just like the rest of him. He was thick and big, precum leaking from his red, slightly swollen tip.

“Will you show me how much of a good girl you are and get me ready for you?” He asks, and even though you know it’s rhetorical— he knows how much you enjoy having him inside your mouth—, you nod eagerly, tilting your head up and staring at him. “Go ahead, pretty.”

You take him with your hands, giving the tip a small lick before putting it inside your mouth, tongue caressing the tip like you knew he enjoyed.

Sucking Quinn off was something that you never thought you’d like so much, but turns out you’re always very eager to do so. The heavy weight of his dick inside your mouth, the difficulty to breathe while he fucks your mouth gently, the doubled attention because you didn’t want to risk hurting him with your teeth.

How he holds your hair with his right hand and how he places his left hand behind your neck, tilting your head in the right angle and shoving himself deeper inside your mouth.

How he moans loud and deep, how he praises you for being so good, for sucking him off like a pro, for being able to fit his entire length inside your mouth.

“You’re so good for me, baby,” he says, quickening his pace.

You hollow your cheeks, tightening your mouth for him and watching as he rolled his eyes to the back of his head, eager to come. But just when you thought he would give you what you want, and come deep into your throat, he pulls back, cock wet with saliva— your saliva— and runs his fingers through his hair, pushing them out of his face.

You hold back a whine, desperate to show him how good you were.

“So pretty,” he says, wiping your wet, swollen lips with his thumb, wrapping his mouth around it after he’s done. “I want you to ride me.”

You nod, not sure if you knew how to. You had never been on top of anyone before, but if Quinn wanted you on top of him, you weren’t the one who was going to rain on his parade.

He kisses your forehead before moving around and sitting on the bed, resting his back against the headboard. He pats his thick thighs, silently asking for you to sit there. You promptly do as he asks, sitting on top of him, just a few centimeters away from his dick.

He plays with the little bow in front of your panties before removing it from you, lifting your hips just enough to get it out of his way.

You were sitting naked on top of your childhood best friend, captain of the Vancouver Canucks, Quinn Hughes. And you were wet, so wet that you were afraid you’d leave a wet spot on his thighs.

He shamelessly stares at your pussy, lifting his thumb and lightly touching your clit, making you bite your tongue, the taste of copper filling up your mouth.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he smirks. “And it’s all for me.”

He sounded proud and that made you happy.

“I want you to open the bedside table drawer and get a condom for me, can you do that?”

You pout, already doing what he said. “You’ll make me do all the work today.”

“And you think I’m wrong? You think you deserve princess treatment today?”

Yes, you immediately answered in your head, not saying it out loud though. Deep down you knew that if you did, you’d only make things worse for you.

You open the condom package, not even bothering to ask how he knew it would be there, and wrap it around his cock, jerking it off with your hands once, and then twice.

Quinn stared up at you, sapphire eyes full of lust and danger.

“Fuck yourself on my cock, baby.” He ordered, making you whimper.

You lifted your hips slightly while you wrapped your right hand around his dick, sinking slowly, feeling your hole stretching around his cock.

With this position, you could feel that he was deep inside you, and you couldn’t tell if it made you feel better or worse. It’d been months since your last time and your ex wasn’t nearly as huge as Quinn is, so you were a little bit overwhelmed.

“You’re b-big,” you hiccup, sliding further. “I can’t—”

He caressed your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Do you want to stop, sweets? We can take it slow.”

“It’s been a while,” you whisper, stopping for a second so you could… breathe.

“I can tell,” he almost hisses, running his hand down your body. “You’re so fucking tight, Madison. You’re squeezing me to death.”

You both moan loudly as you finally get his dick all the way in, your ass meeting his thighs. Your insides were burning with the stretch, and you felt so full you could swear he was in your stomach.

“Fuck.” He groans, touching your clit again, making your first tears start to fall.

It was too much, but at the same time, it was just what you needed. It was overwhelming, not only because it was your first time fucking someone in months, but because you had known Quinn since you were eleven. Your affection for him ran deeper than for anyone else’s.

He rubbed your swollen clit while he pushed his torso up and kissed your lips. You let out a moan because his dick slid the slightest bit out of you, and when you broke the kiss, it got all the way in again, hitting your right spots.

“Come on, baby. Make me proud.” He whispers, gripping your waist hard and lifting his hips up while you lower yours, both moaning at the same time.

You placed your hands on his chest, searching for support before quickening your pace, watching as he planted his feet on the bed and pounded into you with force.

If you thought that making out with him was good, having sex was definitely better. His hands were working hard and fast on your clit while he pounded inside you, fucking you deep and keeping you full.

Quinn Hughes fucked you like he played hockey: to win.

Your moans were loud and you were so greatful the cabin was in the middle of nowhere because no one could hear your screams.

“My sweetheart. Make me come, baby,” Quinn knew that pet names, especially the ones with a possessive pronoun in front of them, did it for you, so this time wasn’t any different. “Maddie.”

Your name on his lips was what made you keep going, fighting the tears running down your face and the pain in your thighs. You wanted Quinn to be proud, you wanted him to want nothing but you.

You wanted Quinn Hughes to yourself, even if it were for a short period of time.

“I’m so close, baby, you’re squeezing me so well,” he licks his lips, rubbing your clit as you ride him. You can feel the exact moment where he comes inside the condom, and you clench around his dick harder, watching his head fall back on the pillow, sweat drops running down his face.

You whine, happy because he came and frustrated because you hadn’t. You were about to complain when he turned you around, his dick still nestled inside you, making you lay back on his chest, your back glued to his front.

“Hold your thighs back for me, sweetness,” he orders, making you hold the back of your thighs until your knees are almost touching your chin, completely exposed for him. “There you go.”

He pounds back into you, quick and steady, making you shiver. His hand, the one that wasn’t holding you in place, finds your aching clit, rubbing it furiously, wanting nothing more than making you come. Your lower belly felt weird, hot and cold at the same time, and you knew you were about to come.

“Make a mess for me, sweets,” he whispered in your ear, and what could you do besides what he asked you to?

You came, mind numb and shaky thighs. The room became silent, your mind as light as a feather, and your thoughts all over the place. The overwhelming feeling of wanting to be his consuming your body like a drug.

“Baby?”

Quinn’s voice sounded distant, like he was a thousand miles away from you. Your tongue sat heavy inside your mouth, and you were slowly falling asleep.

“P-proud?” You hear yourself ask, barely acknowledging his low, tired chuckle.

“Of course, baby.”

Suddenly you’re awake and inside water, which scared you for a few seconds.

“Sh, it’s just water, baby, calm down,” you hear Quinn’s soft voice behind you, now clearer and closer to you. You look down, seeing a sea of smelly bubbles and feeling Quinn’s thick thighs around you, only then realizing he was inside the huge bathtub with you, and you were laying on top of him. “Hey there, baby. You got me scared for a second.”

“Sorry,” you say, your voice cracking mid word.

“No need to be sorry. Was it too much?” He asks, and you could almost taste the concern in his voice.

“No,” you shake your head, welcoming the warm water around you. “No. It was perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re always so good to me, Maddie,” he whispers, running his hands up and down your arms, touching you everywhere. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You chuckle, wanting to tell him that you felt just the same.

“You’re unreal,” he kisses your cheek, and you snuggle closer to his body. “I’m glad you came back to me.”

Your heart stops beating for a second inside your chest, and it feels heavier now. Because being his was all you ever wanted to be, but the only thing you realised after being with him, is that you aren’t the right person for Quinn Hughes.

And it hurt.

taglist: @hischierswhore @ru-kru @alwaysclassyeagle @he6rtshaker @nope-i-am-done @nngkay 🤎

#quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes x model!fmc #quinn hughes x fem!reader #TYPA #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl fic

240 notes · View notes