#x-alps

[avasillva]

In the next. (insp.)

[aestum]

(by sarahcontesesaventures)

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | one

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. warnings/tags: au, age gap [20 something years diff], alcohol consumption, irrational sexual tension, smut, sex in a public place w/ a stranger [and i'm talking depraved/zero time wasted/known you for thirty minutes type strangers], oral [f receiving], protected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, a spot of degradation + misogynistic language, a split second of soft!joel, you get the picture word count: 5.9k series masterlist | main masterlist a/n: my friends.... oh boy, oh boy. this series is a complete au, self-indulgent, fantasy land idea that has plagued me for weeks. horny academic brain rot to the highest degree. hope some of you enjoy it with me x

Friday.

You sit with three almost strangers.

Listen to them talk about their summers and their families and their degrees as you twirl a straw around your half-empty glass, disrupting the melting ice as you try to wrap your head around what a master’s in environmental engineering might entail. One of them, the only man at the table, takes great pleasure in explaining it to you all for the second time. You take mental notes and hope he’s not expecting you to remember words like sparging and leachate.

They do ask you about your undergrad, and your internship, nodding and smiling curiously. They don’t ask what type of job you plan on getting after your postgrad, which is a welcome relief. The bombardment of questions from immediate and extended family is enough.

Cousins wondering aloud, saying you study Greek mythology, right?

Or your grandfather, before he died, berating you ad nauseam at family events about what’re you gonna do, kid? Be a historian? There’s no money in being a historian. Now, being a lawyer, that’s where the money is.

And you’d respond no, not quite Greek mythology, and no, I don’t plan on being a historian, as you gorge yourself on red wine and triscuits and wait for Christmas to end.

Thankfully you aren’t expected to rehash these scenarios with your almost strangers, who routinely ask a few well-mannered questions and then go back to talking about themselves.

After a week of living with them, in a new house, and a new city, you’re becoming used to their company. The way the four of you commune lazily in the kitchen most mornings, swathed in the light streaming through a window above the sink, making idle small talk as you wait for coffee to brew. How Pete and Trin study opposite each other at the dining table, while Nora prefers to spread her limbs across the couch, laptop balanced precariously on her stomach. She’s doing her master’s in education, which she describes as an expensive way to get a pay rise. She’s kind, with wild curly hair and dark humour, and is easily your favourite of your new roommates.

It was her idea to go out that night. One last hurrah, she’d called it. Before we enter the final circle of academic hell next week. And between four overworked, already burnt-out, twenty-something students, it hadn’t taken much convincing before you were sharing three bottles of wine and hightailing it to the bar with the highest Yelp rating.

The late August air is dry; a faint warmth that follows you into a quaint bar in downtown Biddeford. The space is small and crowded with patrons, with dim overhead lighting that casts a soft glow across the booth you’re crammed into. A thin sheen of sweat coats your skin, and your shirt sticks to your back uncomfortably. The others seem unbothered by the heat, nursing sweaty glasses and discussing how different Maine is from where they all grew up. You involve yourself here and there, offering up stories about your family and friends from back home, and suddenly an hour has passed, and then another, and you’re pleasantly tipsy, body humming as alcohol spreads its way through your veins, and your latest drink is practically empty, spare a few melting ice cubes.

“I need another drink,” you tell Nora, who nods absently before turning her attention back to the others.

You wander toward the bar, fumbling for your phone as you go. Fall in between two leather cushioned stools and rest your elbows atop the sleek wooden counter. Check your bank account and mentally traverse the list of reasons for returning to student-life when you see the number staring back at you. I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, your internal monologue runs, although you could admit how sweet a solicitor’s pay check would feel right now.

It’s a low, Southern drawl that pulls you from your reverie.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Deep. With a rough, lilting quality that piques your interest and has your eyes drifting upward from your phone screen.

You notice his body first; a tall frame with thick arms, thick shoulders, thick neck. A navy-blue t-shirt that stretches thin around his biceps, hugging the tan skin there. And then you look higher, and—oh.

Your heart stutters a beat out of time as you take in his face. Loose brown curls that are just long enough to hang across his forehead. Dark, almond-shaped brown eyes. So dark they almost appear black on the first glance. The strong nose and dark hair across his jaw, dappled with streaks of grey. A moustache resting atop a set of dark pink lips. Gone are thoughts of academia, of bank accounts, of your almost strangers. All replaced in an instant by wanton, pulsating desire.

Something like surprise cuts across his face, but it disappears just as quickly. In a far recess of your brain, you register that he must be at least twenty years older than you. You wilfully ignore the thought, perfectly content to continue admiring him.

A dark eyebrow ticks upward then, and you realise you haven’t responded.

“No,” you rush, flashing him a quick smile. “All yours.”

He gives you a pleased nod, a hint of a smirk passing over his lips as he sits down. He looks vaguely uncomfortable perched on the tall chair, all six-foot-something of him cramped onto such a small cushion. You cast a single glance back towards the booth, and then slip onto the stool beside him.

Silence descends between you for a moment. A song by The Eagles plays faintly, but you can’t figure which one - too distracted to make out the lyrics. You take a careful sip of the melted ice at the bottom of your glass, taste the last remnants of tequila in it, and watch him out of the corner of your eye.

“’m Joel,” that accent rings again, sending a volt of warmth through your chest.

You tell him your name, fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt. If he notices the tension in your posture, he doesn’t let on. “You a Southern man, Joel?” The name feels warm on your tongue. Soft and silken like honey.

“S’it that obvious?” he grins crookedly, pink lips tearing back to reveal a straight white smile.

“An accent like that is hard to ignore,” you smirk. “It’s not a bad thing.”

‘Thought it would fade a little since I moved here,” he explains. “Y'can take the man outta Texas, but… you know.”

You hum, eyes alight as you watch him speak. His mouth is beautiful, lips parting around prolonged vowels.

“You here alone?” he asks.

“No,” you say. “With friends.”

“Let me guess,” Joel tilts his body, glancing around the bar. His shirt shifts with the movement, hem raising to reveal the slightest hint of a soft, tanned stomach. He points somewhere over your shoulder. You shut your mouth, careful not to gawp. “Them.”

You turn, a soft laugh of surprise bubbling up through your chest when you spy the bachelorette party set up across the bar. Women dressed in gaudy shades of pink. One of them with a sash—reading Jenny’s Big Day—across her chest, a short veil pinned to her head, and an empty champagne glass clutched in her fist. One of them teary-eyed, gripping the bride’s arm and yelling something in her ear, sloshing champagne onto herself all the while.

“You got me,” you turn back to him with a grin. Hold your hands up in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t be caught dead missing Jennifer’s last night as a free woman.”

The corners of his eyes crease, entire face blossoming into a smile now. He has a dimple on his right cheek.

“Knew you were a good girl,” he nods. Says the words in a matter-of-fact tone. Something twists in your stomach, and your palms dampen. You wet your lips quickly and don’t back down from his gaze, allowing the corner of your mouth to kick up a little.

“And you?”

His eyebrows raise in a silent question.

“Who’re you here with?” you clarify.

“Just you, darlin’,” he says, left eye dropping in a quick wink.

It's easy with him, you find, and the two of you sit there for a while; exchanging small talk about Maine, the hot weather, the music at the bar, slipping in flirtatious comments that are about as subtle as a neon sign, until he finally spies the empty glass in your hand.

“What are you drinkin’?” he asks.  

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” you say, hoping it doesn’t come across too eager. He seems pleased though. There’s something provocative to his gaze, a teasing warmth that raises the temperature of your skin wherever he looks. But whatever it is, it’s gone by the time he reaches across the bar for the bound beverage list.

He peers at the menu, squinting ever-so-slightly to see through the dim lighting of the bar. The skin beside his eyes is soft and creased with age, crow’s feet that hint at years of laughter and smiles. You wonder again how old he is. How much older than you.

“Forget your glasses?” you tease, testing the waters.

Joel’s eyes flash up to yours. The muscle in his jaw ticks.

“Watch it,” he says. There’s a playful note in his voice, but it rings deeper somehow—a hint of a warning.   

Your thighs squeeze together on the stool, warm sweaty skin peeling off the tacky leather as you move. His eyes dart to the bare skin of your legs, and then back to the menu.

He orders you both a whiskey, and a moment later the bartender is sliding a crystal tumbler in front of you. A finger of amber liquid with a single grandiose sphere of ice resting in it. Fancy.

“Cheers,” he holds his glass out. You knock yours against it gently before taking a short sip, fighting a grimace as it burns down your throat.

He watches your face closely, tries to gage your reaction. You take another sip, holding strong in your efforts to show him that you can handle it. Whatever he wants to give to you, you can handle.

“So what brings you here?” he asks. You notice how large the glass feels in your palm, and how small it appears in his. Long, thick fingers wrap around the object, dwarfing it. He takes a sip, and you watch him swallow. His Adam’s apple bobs, and you want to graze your teeth across it.

“To the bar or to Maine?”

“Either.”

“Well, I just moved into town last week, from the West Coast. It’s actually my first week back in the US; I was travelling before the big move.”

“Busy girl,” his tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. You blink. “Travellin’?”

“I was in Greece,” you explain, sip your whiskey and definitely don’t grimace at the harsh taste. “For a month or so.”

“A month in Greece?” His eyebrows raise and he does a low, impressed whistle that has your stare zeroing in on his mouth.

“Ever been?” you ask faintly.

“No,” his reply is swift. “Never had much interest.”

And you’re nodding absentmindedly, but you can’t seem to drag your stare away from his mouth as he speaks. The trance is only broken when he raises his glass for another sip, and you shake yourself out of it, eyes shifting to stare into his brown orbs once more. They’re darker than you remembered, gaze loaded as he looks back at you. The tension was palpable when you first sat together, but now it feels impossible to ignore; an electric tangle of wire between the two of you that just keeps getting shorter and shorter. And you think, fuck it, if you’re about to descend into the final circle of academic hell, why not have a little fun?

“Can I tell you something, Joel?”

You say it softly, make your voice as sultry as possible. He watches you over the rim of his glass, eyes sparkling with intrigue. And then his mouth tilts into a sort of knowing smirk, and he’s nodding.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” you confess.

He hums, smirk broadening.

Sets his glass down on the bar top with a soft clink, and then lowers his hand to the bare skin of your knee. You gasp at the contact, nerves fraught. The callouses on his fingers scrape against your skin in slow, rhythmic circles, goosebumps raising in their wake. His fingers are long, and as he tenses them over you, squeezing your knee once, you see the way deep blue veins flex beneath the skin, hot blood pumping through him. Your stomach turns molten.

“Is that all?” he asks, a taunting lilt to his voice.

Your mouth is dry, eyes wide as you sense the proposition in his words. The hint of something darker—something greedy—in his gaze.

“No,” you say definitively. “That’s not all.”

A sharp tut escapes his mouth, fingertips dragging higher on your leg as he shakes his head. “Do you have any idea how old I am?”

“Don’t look a day over forty,” you hazard a guess, resting your shoe onto the rung of his stool, using the leverage to drag yours closer. Both your legs are between his now, thighs bracketing thighs. The denim of his jeans scrapes against your outer thighs, and you shiver. His hand pauses, fingertips just shy of the hem of your skirt.

Joel wets his lips. “Guess again, sweetheart.”

A low heat licks at the base of your spine, spreading its way through your veins until you feel like you could combust at any given moment. Fuck it.

“Don’t care,” you mutter, and drape your hand over his. You trace your nails over his skin, feel how the bones shift underneath it, how warm he is. He still doesn’t move, face pensive as he regards you. You arch an eyebrow. “You approached me, you know.”

His lips purse tightly. Another squeeze to your thigh, fingers moving again. “I know.”

Driven by boldness, by arcane desire, by animalistic instinct, you lean forward on your barstool and rest your hands atop the thick expanse of his thighs. Hear his breath kick as your nose traces the side of his square jaw, lips settling at the shell of his ear. Right at the soft, sloping crest of his neck. And you whisper those same words again, quiet enough that no one in the world can hear it but him, can I tell you something? 

Your movement drove his hand higher on your thigh, the heavy weight of it now settled beneath your skirt, fingertips skimming the indent where your leg meets your hip, toying at the soft fabric of your underwear there. Painfully close to where you want him.

“Yes,” his deep voice rumbles.

Ever so slowly, your tongue slides out of your mouth to trail against his earlobe. Joel’s thighs tense beneath your palms, and you roll the balls of your thumbs against the muscles there.

“I want to kiss you,” you murmur. “So I’m going to. And then I want you to fuck me, just like I know you want to.” Your teeth graze his lobe, and you bite it once, gently, before rearing your face back to peer at him. “Hmm?”

The muscle in his jaw jumps, shifting beneath the skin, and instead of responding verbally he cups your face with a rough hand. Cool drops of condensation from the glass have stuck to his fingers, and the liquid smears across your skin as he cradles your jaw and draws your mouth to his.

Soft lips envelop yours, the coarse hairs of his moustache tickling your face as he steals the breath from your lungs. And when you lick into his mouth you can taste peppermint on his teeth, and then that oh so familiar whiskey tang across his tongue. You don’t mind the taste so much when it’s on his lips.

You nuzzle closer, dig your fingertips firmer into his thighs and grin when a deep groan falls from his mouth into yours. Wet heat pools between your thighs, liquid fire that stokes at your insides, begging for more more more of him. And, as if he can read your mind, Joel is dragging his mouth away, teeth grazing against your swollen bottom lip as he departs.

“Bathroom,” he says, voice low and commanding. “Now.”

Shock and excitement lace your blood, the proposition of something so dirty, so lewd, making your heart race. With your pulse a dull, thrashing roar in your ears, you allow Joel to help you down from your stool. Your legs feel unsteady now that you’re back on solid ground. Gripping your hand, dwarfing it in his, Joel tugs you away from the bar top and towards an obscured hallway. You amble past the bachelorette party, down the dark hall and then he’s pressing a dark hand against the ambulant bathroom door and dragging you inside, sliding the lock shut behind you.

Joel’s on you in a second, arms bracketing you against the door as his wet mouth slips over yours. His hands are so big, all wide palms and long fingers splaying across the entirety of your back, tucking you against his solid chest. He bunches your shirt in his hand, twisting the material between his fingers as he pushes into your mouth. Tongue hot and wet, gliding against your teeth, your tongue, tasting you, devouring you. there’s nothing polite about it. No more wariness, no more hesitation, no more eyes that could see the two of you at the bar. He’s insatiable, touching you everywhere he possibly can, and even then it doesn’t seem like enough for him.

“Fuck, I want you,” you say against his mouth. He makes a low sound in response, and one of his palms lower to grab a handful of your ass, dragging your hips against his. You can feel him, hot and hard, straining in the confines of his jeans. Your hand presses into the crevice between your bodies to palm him through the material, grinning into the kiss when he groans. His lips trail a slick path across your cheek, past your jaw.

“Gonna let me fuck you here?” his hot breath fans across your neck, tongue darting out to taste the salty sweat there.

“Yeah,” you say. “Fuck—yes.”

He steps back, dragging you with him, and then he’s turning you around so that you’re facing the mirror. Your hips dig into the sink, and he’s holding you there, forcing you to stare at your reflection as he bites and licks and sucks down your neck with reckless abandon, leaving marks in his wake. There’s a low, steady throbbing at the apex of your thighs, and you can feel how your underwear clings to your skin, damp and ruined. You whimper, tilt your chin up to give him access to more skin. He grinds against your ass in response, and then he’s crouching down on the ground behind you.

Fast hands push your skirt up over your hips and then flare across your ass, massaging the flesh there. You feel a nip of teeth against the sensitive skin there and flinch into the porcelain. He makes quick work of dragging your underwear down to dangle precariously at your knees. And then long fingers are spreading you apart, revealing you to him. You tilt your hips back so he can see more. Moan at the sensation of cool air rushing to meet your dripping core.

You think you can hear him speaking, but can’t be sure over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and the low music playing in the bar. And then it doesn’t matter anymore, because you can feel his hot tongue glide through your folds, parting you like the sea. He buries his face in you, nose nudging against your asshole as his tongue swipes at your clit, moaning roughly as he absorbs the taste of you. You’re gasping, hooded eyes staring back at you in the mirror, and this time you can definitely hear him saying you’re so fuckin’ wet. The flat of his tongue smears from your clit to your entrance, and then he’s sinking it inside you. You reach behind your back and card your fingers through his hair, gripping the salt and pepper curls between your fingers and holding him against you. Joel doesn’t complain, groaning as you tug on his locks in encouragement, in fucking desperation.

Your thighs tremble where they bracket his head, threatening to squeeze around him at any moment if it weren’t for his vice grip keeping your spread apart. A choked sob of a moan claws its way out of your throat and then he’s standing again, chest against your back as you hear the clink of his belt coming undone, and he’s saying, I know, I know, you need it so bad, don’t you?

Your hand skirts around the firm sink and slips between your thighs, fingertips ghosting over your throbbing clit. The sound of foil crinkling echoes around the room, and you hear him exhale a ragged sigh as he rolls the condom down his length. You peek over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him, eyes widening as you take in the sheer size of his length. It’s long, with a prominent vein running from base to tip. It pulses, raging beneath the skin, practically daring you to drop down and run your tongue along the length of it. And you would if you thought he’d let you.

“Shit,” you breathe, skin tingling with a fresh wave of nerves and anticipation.

“It’s alright,” his voice is a low rasp, filling your ears like molasses, and his hand is rising to push stray hairs out of your face. “So fuckin’ wet f’me, I know you can take it, honey. You gonna show me how good you take co—”

He cuts himself off, eyes narrowing as he spots your fingers shifting between your thighs.

“So impatient,” he smacks your hand away with a grunt. “Silly little slut, can’t wait just a minute for me?”

A broken moan falls from your lips, shameful heat soaring through your chest. You shouldn’t love the way that word sounds falling from his lips, shouldn’t be so turned on by it, but you can feel how the ache in your core intensifies, and so you push your hips back against him.

“’m sorry,” you whine pitifully.

“You want it that bad?” Joel asks. His lips brush your earlobe as he nudges the thick head of his cock between your folds, gliding it through your slick once, twice, before notching himself at your entrance.

“I want it,” you gasp. “Wanted it from the second I saw you, Joel, please, pleas—”

Joel curses under his breath and loops a hand around your front, pushing the neckline of your shirt down to reveal your left breast. He slips his palm underneath the cup of your bra, long fingers pinching at the peaked bud of your nipple. Your skin burns under the attention, and you push your chest further into his hold.

“Shit,” he grunts, beginning to press himself inside. “I wanna fuckin’—wreck you, sweetheart.” 

“Whatever you want,” you’re pleading, arching your back for him. Your fingers tighten around porcelain, bracing yourself. “Give it to me.”

You hear a muted, dark chuckle before Joel says, “Whatever I want, huh?”

And then he’s pressing inside you with a single, harsh thrust. His thighs come flush with yours and you gasp, face twisting at the sharp sting. The weight of him inside you is heavy, and you squirm at the intrusion, shifting on your feet. He allows you a moment—just a moment—to adjust to him, before he’s moving.

Joel finds a pace he likes and sets it. Heavy, unrelenting, expert rolls of his hips that have his tip brushing against the opening of your cervix with every shift forward. The air fills with harsh sounds of skin smacking against skin, and stilted moans and spilling from your lips as your hipbones collide rhythmically with the sink.

“Christ,” he spits, hand leaving your breast to grip your jaw. He forces your face forward, pace never slowing. “Fuckin’ look at you.”

You do as your told, gazing at yourself in the mirror. And you look wrecked. Hair a wild halo around your head, makeup smudged around your eyes and mouth, lips swollen and shiny with spit.

“Bein’ so—fuckin’—good,” he punctuates the words with his thrusts. His thumb digs into your cheek, and you can see him grinning in the mirror, lips peeled back to reveal that fucking perfect smile. “Dirty little thing, lettin’ a stranger fuck you like this.”

You mewl in response, stomach tensing as his cock grazes a particularly sensitive spot within you. Joel notices and seizes your waist, one hand holding you in place and the other falling to rub your clit while he pistons into you from behind.

“Shit,” you cry, eyes pinching shut as the intense medley of pleasure and pain begins to overwhelm you. Your orgasm claws its way up your chest.

“Yeah, you like that, huh?” he’s panting. “Can you feel you squeezin’ me, sweetheart. Go on, give it t’me, show me how wet that pretty pussy gets when you come.”

“Oh, fuck, oh—oh god, Joel.”

Your lungs feel empty, chest on fire as you rake in rapid breaths. Your entire body is constricting, muscles in your stomach drawn tight as you press firmer against the sink, thighs shaking with every impact of his hips against the plush of your ass. The pressure makes your head spin. And then something in the base of your spine snaps, and you’re falling apart in his grasp. Joel curses behind you, but the sound is faint, almost inaudible over the ringing in your ears. Your vision goes white, body shifting forward as he fucks you through the high.

And even as you begin to come down, muscles going lax and body slumping against the sink, Joel is relentless. He uses you; gripping your hips to keep them tilted at the perfect angle, and just fucking wrecks you, exactly like he said he wanted to. A stream of profanities fill the air as his movements become disjointed, and you know he’s close. Can feel the way his cock twitches inside you, desperate for release. You tilt your face to the side and stare at him over your shoulder. Those dark eyes meet yours and his face crumbles, hand reaching to grip your shoulder and hold you down as he nears the precipice. You rut your ass back against him and he almost shouts.

“Fuck,” he growls. “That’s it, that’s it..”

And then he’s coming, cock jerking inside you in sporadic movements, and you’re wishing he hadn’t worn a condom so you could feel the heat of him spread inside your cunt. It’s intense, the yearning you feel to have him dripping out of you once he’s gone. But you settle for watching his face through bleary eyes, admiring the way his lips part and chin tilts towards the ceiling, eyes pinching closed as his body convulses against you. 

For an all too brief moment, Joel doesn’t move. He slumps against your back, forehead resting in the gap between your shoulder blades, and just breathes. Haggard, drawn out exhales that send whisps of your hair flying forward into your face but you don’t care, too blissed out and relaxed underneath his weight to say anything. And then he’s straightening, and you gasp in unison as he grips your waist and slips out of you. There’s a determined ache between your thighs, pussy clenching around his absence, missing the weight of him already.

You sag onto the cold surface. Your mind is a blur, senses dulled from the intensity of your orgasm. The music in the bar has increased, and you imagine that your roommates must be wondering where you are, but can’t bring yourself to care all that much. You can hear him throw the condom into the trash, then there’s a low rustling as he drags his boxers and jeans back up his legs. Body trembling, you close your eyes and wait. Wait to hear the door open and close as he steps out, and leaves you in the bathroom alone, as you know he inevitably will.

But instead, you feel those hands, almost familiar now, grazing your back. They drag your panties back up and smooth your rumpled skirt down over your ass.

“Hey,” a soothing voice murmurs. “You good?”

You peer at him over your shoulder, uncontained surprise no doubt evident in your face. Joel’s expression is soft; cautious. He grips your shoulder and pulls you up, straightening your body. Drags a thumb over the corner of your mouth, wiping away the lipstick smudged there. His touches are so gentle, so tender, in comparison to a few moments ago. It almost gives you whiplash, and yet you find yourself melting under his gaze, because fuck, he’s handsome. 

“I’m good,” you breathe, and he bares his teeth in a smile, cupping your jaw.

“Sweet girl,” Joel says. His head shakes once, slowly, eyes darting across your features, as if trying to memorise them. “I’m gonna remember this.”

You heart is in your throat all over again.

Your fingers fumble to adjust your top, smoothing it out as you smile, humming, “Yeah… yeah, I think I will too.”

A heady silence swells between you. His thumb brushes along your lower lip again, eyes watching the way your swollen mouth yields to his touch. The tip of your tongue slides out and glides over the tip of his digit, just for a second.

“Probably got your friends all worried,” Joel says then, hand dropping to his side. “Must be wonderin’ where you got to.”

You swallow down the disappointment you feel. It burns its way down your throat and into your stomach, not unlike the whiskey had. I don’t care, you want to say. Take me home with you. But you nod and agree. Glance in the mirror and rake numb fingers through bird’s nest hair, trying to tame your wild appearance. You swear you feel his hand graze the hem of your skirt one last time, playing with the soft material while he stares at you in the mirror.

The bubble pops as he unlocks the door, outside sounds rushing in through the gap, infiltrating the space that once smelt like sex and lust and now just feels like any other room. Joel doesn’t kiss you again. Doesn’t touch you. He steps into the hall, and you follow him out. And when he trails toward one side of the bar, with a final lingering glance at you over his shoulder, you begrudgingly head in the opposite direction to the booth, where your almost strangers await you with curious eyes and pinched brows.

Tuesday.

You feel hungover on the day of your first lecture.

A dull ache blossoms behind your left eye, a persistent reminder of how little sleep you had the night before. Your fingers wrap tightly around a tall styrofoam cup, and you take slow mouthfuls of the black coffee inside, attempting to savour the liquid gold, and letting the caffeine act as a saving grace for as long as possible.

You were normally so much better than this, too. Years had passed since your undergrad, and in the past you’d prided yourself on being punctual and prepared. But apparently one of the professors for this semester had it out for you, because when the required weekly prep work for your 9 o’clock Tuesday morning lecture was released the day prior, you were stunned to find that it included an entire fucking book.

After spending a dutiful two hours going over the weekly notes and required journal articles, you’d found yourself glaring at three sentences, written casually at the bottom of the professor’s notes.

Also, read Hesiod’s ‘Theogony’. It will do you well to have these ideas and themes fresh as you undertake the first weeks of this class. See you tomorrow.

Cue you staying up until two am reading fucking Theogony, and walking to your first lecture with a near-permanent yawn sprawled across your face.  

As you approach history commons, a guy wearing a bottle green shirt that reads UNIVERSITY OF NEW ENGLAND in garish gold lettering shakes a pamphlet in your direction. It has a picture of a girl in a tiny athletic uniform on the front, preparing to spike a volleyball. You avoid eye contact and sidestep him quickly, continuing into the building.

The theatre room is easy enough to find.

Thirty odd chairs line the space on an incline, all facing toward a desk at the front of the room. A projector hangs from the ceiling, displaying the beginning of a slide show on a white wall. The slide is a muted beige colour, with stark black lettering that spells out: The Language and Literature of the Odyssey and the Aeneid.

Your professor stands with his back to the room, shuffling through a myriad of notebooks and loose-leaf pages splayed across the desk. Standard.

You traipse your way up the stairs, buoyed along by the steady stream of other students shuffling into the room, and take a seat a few rows from the front. Not too far back that you seem disinterested, and not so close that your professor will notice you falling asleep on the first day.

You open your notes on your laptop and then slump back into your chair, slurping down the final morsels of coffee in your cup before discarding it to the floor by your feet. And then the room quietens as a final group of students file in, heavy door swinging closed behind them, and you allow your eyes to rest upon the man at the foot of the space.

He’s tall. It’s impossible not to notice that first. Tall and broad. A thin white dress shirt stretches across the arch of his back, fighting to pull free from where it’s tucked neatly into the waist of his brown pants. From where you’re seated, you can see a dark head of hair shaking side to side every few moments, the man muttering inaudibly as he peers down at his notes.

You glance down at your laptop again. Watch your cursor blink against the white screen. And then you hear it.

“Alright folks,” an all too familiar voice drawls. “Let’s get down to it.”

You stiffen in your chair. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, palms going damp as a memory flits through your brain. One of your own voice.

An accent like that is hard to ignore.

You can’t make out what he’s saying anymore, every word overpowered by the sudden roar of your own heartbeat in your ears.

Slowly—so fucking slowly—you peel your eyes away from your laptop and glance upward.

And there he is, in all his glory. Pearly white smile. Strong jaw. Dark eyes.

Joel… your professor.

Fuck.  

thank you for reading!! x

[alwayswonderingandwandering]

spillover

[w4tch3r1nth3sky]

We all know Mountain hates those stupid boots, but Swiss?

Oh, he just can't get enough of them. 🖤

[hauntedhokage]

PART 12: Early Mornings

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

SUMMARY: You enjoy morning coffee with Bakugou, making some plans for future days. 

[series masterlist] | {ao3} | [tumblr masterlist] | {ko-fi} | [spotify playlist]

It’s always difficult to pull yourself away from Eijirou after long nights of socializing. He was a talented extrovert but events like that always exhausted him, making him clingier than usual when you went to bed and impossible to wake up the following morning. You remembered curling up on the couch with Eijirou after showering and changing, and must have dozed off while Katsuki was in the shower because you woke up in Katsuki’s bed with Eijirou while the blonde was nowhere in sight. It was interesting that you’d ended up here, but not surprising. Keeping his babygirls together was important to Eijirou, and Katsuki had the bigger bed, so it was the natural spot to collect. 

Rolling out of the bed was difficult, the strong arms kept trying to pull you back into the bed until you eventually broke away from them and landed somewhat gracefully on your feet. The pathetic sleep whine that leaves him is quickly muffled by him rolling over onto his stomach and pressing his face into the pillow that you’d left behind. It’s tempting to curl back up around him and get another hour or so of sleep, but there’s a conversation that you’d like to have with Katsuki  without your shared boyfriend hovering around with a shit eating grin on his face.

And you find the blonde in the kitchen, standing in front of the coffee pot and pouring what looked to be a second mug of coffee. 

“Morning,” you greet softly, closing the distance between you as he nods his own greeting. 

“I thought you’d be up soon, so I made more coffee. I just don’t know how you like yours, and didn’t want to make it something you wouldn’t like.”

It was a thoughtful gesture, and you explain how you like your coffee as you fix it to your specifications. He's taking mental notes, you know him too well at this point to think otherwise, and you try to move with enough space that he can see what you’re doing. 

“C’mon.” He tilts his head in the direction of the living room, and you follow him from the kitchen but continue out to the balcony, not missing him grabbing the blanket left on the couch on his way. 

The bench on the patio was large enough to fit three people, but you sit close to Katsuki and are grateful for the blanket that he puts over both of your laps when the cold morning air settles on your skin. You don’t know quite what to say, but you feel comfortable enough to trust that you didn’t have to say anything - just being beside him in this moment was enough. To have him invite you to share this personal time meant a lot, but you know they’d tell you that you were putting too much on it. 

“How’s your wrist feeling?”

“Much better. I think your kisses might double as a painkiller.” He’s exaggerating, but you’re glad to hear that he wasn’t in as much pain as he had been last night. “Your feet okay? You were walking kinda stiff towards the end.”

“Those shoes suck, but I’m good now.”

He nods, and you both take a drink of your coffee in near unison while continuing to stare out at the skyline you could see from the balcony. 

“Thank you for fixing my shirt,” you finally comment after a couple moments of quiet, looking over to see those amber eyes fixated on you. “You didn’t have to, especially after the way I yelled at you that day. That wasn’t very kind of me, and I’m sorry for treating you like that.”

“No, I deserved a lot of that. I didn’t explain myself well enough, and made you feel like shit because of it and that wasn’t fair to you. You’ve always been enough, y’know? For him, and-” he pauses, his free hand carefully coming to rest on your cheek as his own tint a soft pink - because of the cold weather, you’re sure. “And for me, too. And I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t.”

You know better than to ask if he means it, the one thing Bakugou Katsuki didn’t do was say things he didn’t mean to make people feel better. 

“Do you want to do something tomorrow night? Just the two of us?” The question doesn’t feel surprising coming from him, but the way his hand stayed on your cheek certainly was. It was warm though, you weren’t going to complain. 

“Like a date?”

“We can keep it friendly, if you want.”

“Is that what you want?” It wasn’t, and he knows by the look on your face that you knew the answer too. “Because I’d like for it to be more than just friendly.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, gently pulling his hand from your face to hold in your own as you murmur, “Last night was a lot of fun, and I’d love to spend more time with you.”

He only nods, and you know he’s not going to say anything soft in return at this point so you’re happy to just sit in silence with him. It was still comfortable, and that was what mattered most to you as you continued drinking your coffee. 

“I talked to Deku about your idea for how we can stop fight night before it starts next year. We both think a sanctioned tournament similar to how UA had the sports festival would decrease a considerable amount of the activity on the streets.”

You don’t remember when you’d talked to Katsuki about that, which leads you to believe that he’d listened to one of your rambles about crime reduction tactics or maybe Eijirou had said something about it. Either way it felt incredibly validating to hear that three of the top five pros thought that you were onto something and would possibly take your idea higher up.

“Most of the arrested parties had no known gang affiliation, it just makes sense to provide some outlet for people to let the edge off and get paid for it if they do well.”

“The research you did on that was very detailed. I didn’t think you had the energy for that between your own work and taking care of us.”

“You read through my research?”

“You left it out and I was curious. You were really going to take that to the Hero Commission?”

“The Commission, the Mayor of Tokyo, maybe even see if the Prime Minister’s office would at least look at it. It’s unnecessarily dangerous for the city and the people in it, and the heroes working to stop it. Last year was bad, this year was worse, and it’s only going to escalate unless something is done to address it.” The way he was looking at you was something you don’t think you’d experienced directed at you. You’d seen the undivided attention and intent thinking face be directed at Eijirou, marveling at how your boyfriend didn’t crack under the pressure of the blonde’s intense gaze, but to have it directed at you made you realize just why Eijirou handled it so well. Being on the receiving end didn’t make you feel small, or as if he was trying to pick apart your argument - in fact, you felt the opposite. The way he looked at you made you feel like you could kick in the door to the Prime Minister’s office with no consequences, you even felt like he’d help. 

“You care a lot about this. For the city and the people in it.”

“We’ve seen the country fall apart before due to unchecked quirk aggression, I’d hate to live through that twice.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, carefully pulling your now empty mug from your hands to sit on the table beside the bench. “But I doubt you want to talk about work on your day off.”

“I don’t mind it, I like talking to you.”

“When we go out tomorrow night, no work talk.”

“What’s the penalty if we slip up?” 

“I’m sure we can come up with something agreeable for us both.”

You nod at that before turning as movement catches your eye from the other side of the window. Eijirou had finally rolled out of bed, bright red hair a mess as he slowly moved around the living room looking for something. It only takes a second for Katsuki to catch on to what you’d seen, and he watches with the same fond smile you wear as you both watch your boyfriend try to figure out where his lovers had gone. 

“Let’s go save him from his misery,” Katsuki suggests, and you nod your agreement while letting him help you up from your seat. The blanket is carefully wrapped around your shoulders before he grabs the empty coffee mugs and leads you inside. He offers to cook breakfast while letting Eijirou steal a couple needy kisses, then it’s your turn to be needily kissed on and cuddled while Katsuki sets to work. 

“Can’t believe you left me, baby.”

“We’d never leave you,” you mumble into his neck, placing a gentle kiss to the warm skin as footsteps pad across the living room floor. “Never ever.”

“You were together?”

“Mhm, just on the balcony. Never too far from our baby Eiji.” Your assurance is met with a kiss to the top of your head, and you feel your body rock with Eijirou’s as Katsuki gently nudges him while telling you there was more coffee on the side table for you. 

It’s a few minutes before you’re given the room you need to actually drink the coffee Katsuki had brought out to you, so it’s colder than you would have preferred, but you’re amazed at the fact that he’d made it perfect for you. He was good, much better than you were at paying attention to details like that and committing them to memory so quickly. 

But he definitely cared a lot about getting things right. 

[alicecullensupremacist]

Agathario x Killer by Phoebe Bridgers | made on Shuffes by me: alicecullensupremacist99 | inspired by a tiktok I saw by sapphicvsp

[littlemissomega]

Malyshka

alpha!Wanda x omega!reader

Summary: Y/N joins the Avengers thinking she’ll be able to hide being an omega. Wanda bursts her bubble.

Warnings: smut, overstimulation, mating, biting, penetration, omega heat, fingering, knotting, pet names (malyshka, baby, luv, luvie), Bucky’s an asshole, a kinda maybe spark better Bucky (I can’t write fight scene without banter), scenting, scent blockers

Sorry if I forgot anything

Author’s note: This request for this was so sweet! I finally made myself sit down and finish this over the weekend :) I also marked where the smut starts if that's what you're here for

Edit: Just realized I posted this the first time with 'Emily' instead of 'Y/N'. I write my fics with a different name for the reader cause it flows easier with I brain, I just forgot to change it later. Please ignore 🤦🏻‍♀️

“Okay, everyone, this is Y/N! She’ll be joining the Avengers,” Tony voices.

Y/N fiddles with her bracelet as she gives the group of strangers a small smile. The overwhelming scent of alphas smacks her in the face, making her feel shyer than normal. She prays her scent suppressants and beta scent perfume are strong enough.

“Who decided that?” a brown haired man asks.

“I did. And I think you all will agree when you see what she can do,” Tony responds.

“It would have been nice to be consulted right, though,” a blond man points out.

“Well, I do bank roll this team, so…”

Y/N’s cheeks flush as the good discuss her like she didn’t there.

“Guy, don’t be rude! Ignore them. I’m Natasha,” the red haired woman smiles, “That’s Bucky, and that’s Steve. Steve is only agreeing with him because he wants to get laid later,’ “Hey now, ‘Tasha!” Steve laughs. 

Natasha shrugs at him with a smirk.

“That’s Clint,” a man dressed in all black waves at her, “And that’s Thor,” Natasha finishes, pointing at a man with long hair.

“Nice to meet you guys,” Y/N smiles, finally finding her voice and feeling awkward and meek around the group.

“Am I the only one who wants to see what the little lady can do?” Thor asks.

“I agree,” Bucky nods.

“Okay! I guess she can spare you, Buck. Show you guys what she can do,” Tony smirks.

“Gladly,” Bucky smirks back, shrugging off his jacket.

Y/N ties her hair up and pushes her sleeves up, trying to compose herself.

I can do this! Mr. Stark believes in me, so it can’t be that hard!

“Here’s the rooms; No cheap shots. We’re all big kids here. No weapons. If the other person says ‘yield’, you win and everyone stops. If the other person is pinned or down for 30 seconds or more, then the other wins. And don’t kill each other,” Tony explains.

“Remember that word, beta,” Bucky voices, getting in a fighting stance.

Y/N ignores his taunts, focusing on the energy bubbling up in her core. She imagines it spreading through her body and resting under the skin of her hands. Her hands start glowing with lavender purple energy, and Bucky’s cocky expression cracks for a second.

“Begin,” Tony announces, leading against the wall.

Bucky lunges forward, but doesn’t get far before a stream of glowing lavender energy shots from Y/N’s hands; wrapping around Bucky’s foot and pulling him to the ground. He lands with a grunt but doesn’t stay down long. Natasha’s laugh rings through the room.

“A little warning would have been nice, Tony!” Bucky calls as he swings his metal arm back to punch her.

Y/N’s glowing hand makes a shape like she caught his fist (she’s not actually touching him), and his hand stops. Her eyes start glowing a faint purple as she turns her hand to the side, and Bucky’s arm goes with it. He lands on his back. A frustrated groan slips from his lips, causing the corners of Y/N’s to go up.

Bucky rolls to his feet and jumps forward. Right before he grabs her, Y/N teleports to the other side of the room. He stumbles forward, but regains his balance.

“The f-”

He starts towards her again, and Y/N’s wills the water in a cup to the side to rise, turning into a disk of ice. It shoots towards Bucky, but he catches it with his metal hand and throws it back at her. The ice evaporates before it reaches her.

“Okay, no more magic, kid. Why don’t you level the playing field and beat me fair and square?” Bucky asks as he lunges toward again, panting slightly. Y/N side steps him and teleports behind him. She kicks him square in the back, causing him to go down.

“And why would I do that? I’m just using my resources wisely!” Y/N points out.

“Oh, so you don’t think you can beat me without your little party tricks! That’s okay, not everyone is strong enough,” Bucky eggs her on.

“You’re kinda an asshole, you know that?” Y/N shoots back, “How ‘bout this; I don’t use magic for 60 seconds. Give you a little head start. If you can beat me in that time, then great. If you can’t…”

“Deal,” he growls, kicking his leg out and sweeping her feet out from under her.

Y/N tumbles to the ground, landing hard on her ass. Bucky pins her to the ground, but she elbows him in the nose, causing his grip to loosen enough for her to slip away. She makes it to her feet before he makes his next attack. He swings a punch at her, but she douges it, dunking under his arm and elbowing his side. Bucky lets out another growl and Y/N shivers. 

“You scared, beta?” Bucky chuckles.

“No, I’m just getting a little cold from how little I have to work! And my name’s Y/N,”

Bucky wraps a hand around Y/N’s throat, and she tucks her chin while bringing her other arm around and breaking his grip. She grabs his arm and spins him around, putting him in a choke hold. Bucky’s hands fly up; trying and failing to break her grip around his neck. Y/N wraps his legs around her waist to stabilize herself as Bucky starts slamming her into the wall. She lets out a grunt as the air leaves her lungs.

“You smell…sweet?” Bucky points out, his voice muffled from his lack of air.

Shit, Y/N thinks. She realizes she’s started to sweat, which must be causing the scent blocker to wear off faster.

“I think you’re hallucinating, Barnes,” Y/N huffs as he slams her into the wall again, “And, your time’s up,”

Y/N teleports away right as Bucky slams against the wall again, causing him to take all of the blow. She kicks him in the stomach and he crumbles against the wall. Purple bands of light wrap around him, pinning him down. He struggles against them, but they don’t break.

“And.. Y/N wins!” Tony announces as the 30 seconds is up. The bands of light disappear immediately, and Bucky stumbles to his feet.

“Good match,” Y/N smiles, sticking her hand out to shake Bucky’s.

Bucky begrudgingly shakes her hands. Y/N thinks he’s being a good sport until he jerks her forward, dipping his nose down so it brushes the scent gland on her neck. Y/N gasps and stumbles back.

“Interesting,” Bucky chuckles softly.

“Did you just fucking scent me??” Y/N asks, shocked.

“Whoa, that’s too far, Bucky!” Natasha scolds, shoving Bucky.

“Sorry, sorry!” Bucky responds, the smirk not leaving his face.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asks.

“Yeah! Yeah..it’s whatever,” 

“He’s just grumpy cause he lost and wanted a reaction. That was pretty badass though, newbie!”

“I agree! That was hardcore!” Thor laughs, slapping Y/N on the back. Y/N jolts forward a little, but laughs it off.

“Hey, has anyone seen Wanda today?” Steve asks. He’s holding hands with a still slightly fuming Bucky.

“I’m right here!” a voice calls from the door.

Y/N turns to see a beautiful woman with dark ginger hair that falls in soft waves and blue gray eyes. She’s dressed in red and black leather, and Y/N struggles to keep her eyes on the woman’s face instead of the curve of her breasts. Her scent of fresh coffee and cinnamon hits Y/N like a freight train, causing a whole different heat to grow in her core. She can feel her own scent growing stronger.

“Hey, Wanda! You missed the show!” Natasha laughs.

“Did I?” Wanda asks, looking at Y/N, “What’s your name, malyshka (babygirl)?”

Y/N opens her mouth, but no words come out. Natasha quickly covers for her.

“This is Y/N! She’s joining the Avengers and she just kicked Bucky’s ass!”

Wanda’s eyes don’t leave Y/N, causing her to squirm a little. Y/N pulls out her phone, and looks at it, pretending to see a notification.

“Oh, I have a missed call, so I need to go call them back! But it was nice meeting y’all!”

Bucky smirks and gives Y/N a knowing look as she runs from the room. She fainting hears the other calling bye.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” Y/N mumbles as she slams her bedroom door shut, rummaging through her stuff for her scent suppressant. She swallows two of them dry, then douses herself in the beta scent perfume.

Flopping down face first on the bed, Y/N reminds herself that joining the Avengers is a good thing. Her stupid omega pheromones just need to get their shit together. And Bucky keeps his stupid mouth shut.

Two weeks pass, and Y/N starts to settle into her new life. She trains with Natasha and Steve during the day, and they go on missions. She and Bucky continue to bully each other and have ‘friendly’ competitions. And Wanda. Oh Wanda.

Wanda has been so kind to Y/N, showing her around the compound and taking every chance to talk with her. But she also takes every chance to touch her. From putting a hand on Y/N’s shoulder when passing to letting their legs touch on the couch, Wanda has taken every chance. And Y/N hasn’t minded. Not at all.

Y/N hates how shy she gets around Wanda, and the almost gravitational pull she feels to her.

A knock on the door snaps Y/N from her thoughts.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Natasha asks through the door.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Y/N voices, rolling over.

“Okay! Well, dinner’s ready! You hungry?”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a second!” Y/N responds, glad to be included in the group.

Y/N quickly takes her hair out of the ponytail, fluffing the top of it. When she opens the door, Natasha is waiting for her. She smells of fresh sheets and leather polish. She’s an alpha, but her scent isn’t as overwhelming as most.

“What’s for dinner?” Y/N asks as they enter the kitchen.

“Chicken noodle soup!” Wanda responds, “How’d your call go?”

Gods she looks so pretty

“I-It was good! Just a friend,” Y/N voices, nervousness pooling in her stomach.

As they make bowls, Y/N realizes Bucky and Steve are missing.

“Where are the others?” She asks, carrying her bowl to the table.

“Oh, I heard Bucky and Steve arguing earlier, so they’re probably fucking by now,” Natasha laughs.

“My room is next to theirs, and you wouldn’t believe the things I’ve heard,” Tony voices, “Haven’t had a good night’s sleep since they mated,”

Y/N blushes, staring at her bowl. It’s always amazed her how some people are so open about sex. She picks up her spoon and takes a bite of the soup, almost moaning as it hits her taste buds.

“You like the soup, malyshka?” Wanda asks with a grin, sitting down next to her.

“Yeah!” Y/N nods, swallowing, “It’s really good,”

“I’m glad you think so,”

“Sorry, what does malyshka mean? Is it a different language?” Y/N asks. Wanda has taken to using the nickname with Y/N, and she had never asked what it ment. 

“It’s Russian for babygirl,” Natasha explains with a small, knowing smile.

“Oh,” 

That’s all Y/N can say as her face turns bright red. She coughs a little and takes a gulp of her water. Wanda’s shoe brushes against her calf.

“Don’t choke, princess!” Wanda chuckles.

Princess? Babygirl? This woman is going to be the death of me.

Y/N sets her cups down and focuses on eating without embarrassing herself. Halfway through, Steve and Bucky show up. Steve is limping significantly.

“Nice of you to join us,” Tony snickers.

“Shut up, Stark,” Bucky responds with a chuckle, “You’re just jealous you’re not getting any cause Pepper’s on a business trip,”

Y/N grimaces as pain shoots through her abdomen and lower back. She grips her spoon harder; her knuckles turning white. Natasha taps her foot under the table and mouths ‘You okay?’ at her. Y/N nods, relaxing her grip on the spoon even as the pain continues. The intense need to bury her face in Wanda’s chest and sit in her lap fills her.

It doesn’t help that every breath she takes is overwhelmed by Wanda’s rich scent.

Is she doing that on purpose? Y/N wonders. She can feel herself starting to sweat and takes a sip of water.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Steve asks, sounding genuinely worried.

“Yeah! O-of course!” Y/N responds, trying to sound normal.

“You look pretty flushed. Are you warm?”

Steve you’re very sweet, but please shut the fuck up. Y/N begs in her heat.

“A little! It’s just the soup. I think I’m actually gonna turn in for the night,” Y/N decides, grabbing her bowl to put in the sink. Wanda stops her.

“I can get that!” Wanda voices.

“No, that’s okay! I can-”

“Leave the bowl, malyshka,” Wanda voices, dominance seeping into her voice.

Y/N sets the bowl down and rushes up the stairs.

“What’s up with her?” she hears Tony ask.

“I wouldn’t bother her for the next week,” Bucky responds, sounding arrogant and almost condescending.

“Why not?” Natasha asks.

Y/N doesn’t wait to hear Bucky’s response. She quietly closes her bedroom door and uses the lavender light to create a barrier around the room. Now, no one will be able to scent her or hear her.

She stumbles over to her desk and opens her computer, looking at her heat calendar. It isn’t supposed to come for another 2 weeks!

“Go awayyyy,” Y/N whines as the cramps continue and a different type of need fills her. She changes into a soft, silk shorts and tank top set before climbing into bed. She nuzzles her face into the only blanket she brought from home.

Y/N tosses and turns for hours, kicking off the blankets as her body temperature goes up. A fine layer of sweat settles on her skin and pain shoots through her. She can feel herself growing wetter, and her mind keeps straying to how bad she wants to be knotted. 

  —--Spice starts here—----

She tries resisting, but she can’t help but kick off the shorts and slip her hand in her underwear. Y/N dips a finger in her dripping hole and moans. She drags the finger up to that hypersensitive bundle of nerves as draws gentle circles on it. Her moans float through the room.

A knock at the door causes Y/N to groan.

“Y/N, are you in there?” Wanda asks through the door.

Her brain is too foggy to form words.

“Y/N, open the door right now,” Wanda orders. Y/N whimpers at the dominance in her tone.

The door burst open before closing again. Y/N turns her head to see Wanda standing there, eyes and hands glowing a faint red color. Her scent is intoxicating. She’s wearing a cropped tank top and a pair of low rise pajama pants. The large bulge at her crotch is unmistakable. 

“Oh baby. Did you get your heat?” Wanda croons.

Y/N nods, burying her face in the blankets. She jolts in pain as another cramp rips through her and rubs another circle on her clit, hoping to help ease the pain.

“Y-you should go Wa-Wanda! It’s not appropriate,” Y/N struggles to say, finally pulling her hand from her underwear.

“But you don’t really want me to do that, do you?” Wanda asks, her voice getting closer. 

Y/N looks up to see Wanda right next to the bed. She sits down and lowers her face closer to hers. Wanda gently grabs her china and forces her to make eye contact. Y/N whimpers and her core throbs.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, malyshka. And I know you feel it. The bond. Begging for us to solidify it. You’re my mate, and you know it,” Wanda voices, grabbing her hand and bringing it to her mouth.

“W-what?” Y/N stutters.

Wanda eases Y/N’s slick covered finger into her mouth and sucks gently. Y/N and Wanda moan as she releases it with a pop

“Awww, you’re such a dumb baby omega! Thought you could pretend to be a beta and everything!” she brushes a stand of hair from Y/N’s face condescending, “No, you’re my mate and I’ve known from the second I saw you,”

Her eyes go wide as Wanda dips her head down and brushes her nose against Y/N’s scent glades. A small growl slips from Wanda’s lips and every hair on Y/N’s body stands up, causing her to whine.

“I’m going to burn whatever fake scent you use. And it you ever take a fucking scent blocker again, I’ll spank your pretty ass ‘til you can’t sit right for a month,” Wanda growls.

“Y-yes ma’am! I’m sor-sorry!” Y/N squeaks.

“You will be,”

Y/N lets out a shriek as Wanda picks her up and throws her over her shoulder.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Y/N asks, her tone sounding meek.

“Going to wash off that fucking beta scent! I wanna smell your scent when I pump you full with my pups,” 

“Mommyyy,” Y/N moans, her grip tightening on Wanda’s shoulders.

The tile in the bathroom is cold against Y/N’s bare feet. Wanda presses her against the wall; her lips a breath away from Y/N’s.

“I’m trying so hard to restrain myself, because I wanna fuck you for the first time in a bed, but you’re making it really hard, malyshka,” Wanda whispers, her lips dipping to hover over the scent glad on Y/N’s neck. 

Y/N lets out a breathy moan; squeezing her thighs together as Wanda’s nose nuzzles against her scent gland.

“Your scent is finally pecking through those damned scent blockers,” Wanda voices, “Now let’s wash the rest off,”

The cool air chills Y/N’s skin as Wanda pulls the shirt off her, leaving her bare. Her nipples pebble into stiff peaks and the shorts quickly follow the shirt to its place on the ground. Y/N wants to touch her so bad, but doesn’t want to anger her. Wanda’s eyes don’t leave her as she turns the shower on.

“Listen carefully,” Wanda turns her fingers up Y/N’s arms, barely touching them, “You’re gonna get in the shower and get nice and clean, and I’m gonna go get a few things. You aren’t gonna touch yourself of put on any more scent blockers, then you’re going to dry off and go wait in bed,”

“Do-Don’t want you to leave,” Y/N pouts, practically shaking with need.

Wanda gently rubs her thumb over Y/N’s bottom lip before connecting them with hers. Y/N melts into the kiss; hands coming up to brace herself on Wanda’s shoulder. She whines when Wanda pulls away.

“I’ll be right back. Be a good little omega and do as your told,” 

Wanda leaves the door cracked behind her and Y/N lets in a shaky breath from getting the shower. The cool water is a shock to her system and she quickly washes her body. Her skin is hypersensitive and she struggles to hold back whimpers as she washes her scent glands.

After turning the water off, she dries off with a fluffy towel Wanda must have left for her. Y/N wraps the towel around herself before tip-toeing back into the bedroom. The room is empty and she sits on the edge of the bed, apprehension building in her.

The temporary relief Wanda’s calming pheromones brought disappears and the intense pain continues. Y/N leaves back in the bed, gripping the sheets and pressing her feet into the mattress. Her whines fill the room and all she wants is Wanda’s knot deep inside her, breeding her.

“Fuck, malyshka, you’re so beautiful,” Wanda practically moans from the door.

Wanda’s holding a bundle of different sweatshirts, blankets, and t-shirts.

“Wh-what’s that?” Y/N asks.

“I brought you a few things for your nest, baby,”

“Want you now though, Mommy,” she whines.

“One second, luvie, I gotta get your cozy nest set up,” Wanda explains, arranging the different things on the bed.

Y/N bucks her hips and moans at the intense scent of her mate around her.

“Mommy hurryyy need you so bad!” 

“All done, baby,” Wanda soothes, straddling Y/N’s hips. Y/N’s shaky hands come up and tug at Wanda’s pants.

“Need you now, Mommy!”

“I know luvie, but Mommy’s just gotta taste her sweet baby first,” Wanda croons, sliding down her body.

Wanda growls at the sight of her omega’s dripping pussy. She licks fromm her dripping whole to throbbing clit.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have waited so long to do this,” Wanda groans, “You’re such a good omega, you would have spread your legs for me that first night, wouldn’t you have?”

“Uh huh, Mommy! Just for you!” 

The vibrations of Wanda’s chuckle ripple through Y/N and cause the knot in her core to grow. Wanda lips attach to her clit and her moans fill the room. Her hands fly down, lacing in Wanda’s hair and presses her further into her pussy.

“Oh my god that feels so good Mommy, so sensitive!” Y/N moans.

Wanda doesn’t give any warning before slipping two fingers into her, filling her to the brim. Y/N bucks her hips up, desperate for me.

“Mommy pleaseee, need you in me so bad!”

“What part of me, malyshka?” Wanda asks innocently, “My fingers? My tongue? Or is there something else you want? Use you words,”

The fog in Y/N’s head grows with how desperate she is, and she struggles to form the words.

“Fuck, Mommy, need your cock! Need your cock in me so bad! Need you to bread my and knot me and fuck me so good!” Y/N blabbers.

“Good girl,” Wanda croons, her eyes glowing red. Her clothes disappear and she straddles her again in a second, her hard cock lined up with Y/N’s dripping entrance.

Y/N wrapped her legs around Wanda’s hips, bringing her lips up to suck on one of Wanda’s perky, hard nipples. Wanda moans and thrusts into Y/N a little too fast. Y/N whines at the intense stretch and sucks harder.

“I know, malyshka, Mommy’s cock is so much bigger that your little baby omega pussy,” Wanda croons condescending, “You’re gonna take every inch like the good little girl you are, though,” Y/N give’s Wanda’s hair a little tug in response.

By the time Wanda is halfway in, Y/N is squirming and quivering. She finally lets go of Wanda’s nipple.

“Want your pups so bad, Mommy! Want you to breed me!” Y/N cries, spasming with pleasure and need.

“I know, baby, Mommy’s gonna fill up your pretty pussy so good; gonna make you all pretty and round!” Wanda voices, thrusting her hips forward so another inch goes in, “You aren’t so shy anymore, are you baby? All you needed was Mommy’s cock stretching you out to start talking!”

“Mommy,” Y/N whimpers as Wanda bottoms out.

“I know,” Wanda repeats, dipping her head to the crock of Y/N’s neck.

Wanda inhales deeply and moans.

“Can’t believe you hide your scent from me for so long, malyshka! You smell heavenly. Like fucking carmel and chocolate,” Wanda moans, licking Y/N’s scent glad. Y/N mewls at the sensation, squeezing around Wanda.

“Gonna cum, Mommy!” 

“Cum for me, baby,”

Y/N falls over the edge, stars dancing in her vision. Her chest comes off the bed and the sounds she makes are unrecognizable. A scream escapes her as Wanda’s fangs pierce her neck. Her hands move to Wanda’s back, digging in and drawing blood. Wanda sucks on the tender wound and continues thrusting her hips as Y/N comes down from her high. The solidified bond is overwhelming. Wanda’s scent becomes even more overwhelming and Y/N can feel the pleasure she’s feeling, making her even more sensitive. 

“Mo-Mommy?” Y/N stutters weakly, her orgasm still stringing out.

“Yes, my luv?” Wanda responds gently.

“Want you to cum, Mommy! Please cum in me,”

“Oh baby,” Wanda moans.

Every vein and ridge sets Y/N on faster as Wanda’s thrust quickens, hitting every sensitive spot in her.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” Y/N sobs, tears of pleasure slipping down her cheeks, “Fuck, feels so go-good!”

“Mommy’s gonna cum down, malyshka,” Wanda pants, “Gonna fill you up so good,” Wanda’s knot starts growing, stretching her mate out even more. 

“Can fe- ohhh feel it, Mommy!” 

Y/N’s wall squeezes around her, and that’s all Wanda needs to fall over the edge. Her hot cum warms Y/N and she can feel it in every inch of her body. Wanda can’t take her eyes off Y/N’s absolutely wrecked face though. Her head is thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, and mouth in an ‘O’ shape. Wanda lowers her head and kisses her check, then her lips, her other check, each eyelid, her forehead, and makes her way back down to her lips as Emiy comes down from her extended high.

“How are you feeling, malyshka?” Wanda asks softly.

“Warm…and full and so good” Y/N sighs contently.

“I’m glad, luvie,” Wanda smiles, gently flipping them so Y/N is on top.

Y/N moans softly as Wanda’s cock shifts deeper with the new position. Her alpha strokes her back.

“I love you, Mommy,” she mumbles dreamily.

“I love you too, malyshka,”

Taglist:

@liidiaaag

@flourishandblotts-inc

@aagn360

@smromanoff

[moldycantaloupe]

Stress Relief

rating; Explicit

words; 1.7k

relationship; Mountain/Swiss

tags; Masturbation in Shower, Shower Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Finger fucking, Transmasculine Swiss (Ghost Sweden Band), Transmasculine Mountain (Ghost Sweden Band), Polyamorous Ghouls (Ghost Sweden Band), Masturbation, Trans Male Character

“There you are.” Swiss nearly purred, tilting his head to get a better look. “Would you like some help, sweetness?” Or, Mountain masturbates in the shower, Swiss barges in and eats him out.

notes; For you SwissAlps enjoyers out there, and happy near end of Mountain March! Both Mountain and Swiss use clit and cunt, Mountain also has a tdick

Read here or on Ao3 if you so desire!

Mountain lets out a deep sigh when he steps into his shower, the hot water giving him the much needed relief after a tedious day. He rubs at his neck and groans, letting his head loll down and his eyes close.

He’d woken up well before sunrise to get an early start on their spring cleaning in the greenhouse, and only got back to the den just after sundown. He’d left a note for Swiss before he took off, the ghoul happily snoring away, letting him know his plans. The multi ghoul had gone to visit a couple times during the day, mainly to bring food and company for Mountain, before running off to do his own chores.

Mountain now stood under the hot spray, letting the dirt and stress wash down the drain. He ran a hand from his neck to his waist, slowing down to let his hand linger near his lower belly.

Aether made sure everyone knew about good health. He was the head of the infirmary, it made sense. He always made a point to tell Mountain to “jerk one out” when the giant went to vent to him about a long day. Something about it being a stress reliever.

Mountain wasn’t a prude. He had many partners to attest to the fact. Or a Swiss who couldn’t go a week without telling someone how good Mountain was in bed, or how he got Mountain to get on his knees the few times it happened. But it was rare for him to find pleasure by himself. He was preoccupied either with chores, his pack, or someone else to please. Always an afterthought.

He shrugged; might as well. Swiss was going to be out with Aether all evening for practice so he had time. If anything, it’d help him sleep. His lingering hand made its slow descent down to his cunt, running his fingers through the coarse hair. If it weren’t for Swiss who absolutely praised him for his hair, he would trim it a little, but he didn’t want to see his multi ghoul pout over it, so he kept it long.

A finger dipped between his folds, finding his clit already pulsing. He let out a sigh as he began to slowly circle it, already feeling the heat pool in his belly. It didn’t take long for him to add another finger, stroking from clit to dick. He took a couple steps to lean his back against the wall and gasped. The angle was just right for the water to hit him where he needed it.

His fingers sped up only slightly, his clit quick to plump up with blood, the pulse becoming stronger. He groaned and rolled his hips to meet the friction, suddenly desperate for more. For more stimulation. 

Mountain brought his second hand behind him, giving his ass a quick squeeze before dipping into his, what he presumes, wet cunt. He lets his finger tease around his hole, the way Swiss would, clenching around nothing. He’s not as cruel to himself as Swiss would be though, with the way he’d tease his fingers all around Mountain except for where he needed them the most, running them along the outline of his hole. And he’s not patient enough right now to pretend. His teasing finger plunged in with a noise that’s drowned out by the shower, immediately thrusting it in time with his other hand. He let out a raunchy moan, his head tilting to lean against the shower wall.

He could imagine what he looked like right now; pinched eyebrows, lidded eyes, body moving on its own accord and bucking into his hand. Debauched, even if only slightly. 

Everything came to a halt when there was a quiet knock on the door, a pattern he immediately recognized. He felt his cheeks bloom red and stood to his full height, his cunt protesting all stimulants disappearing.

“Swiss?” He called out. 

“Yeah, baby,” there was a teasing lilt in his tone, “having fun?”

“I thought you were with Aether.” Mountain frowned, only slightly annoyed.

“Had to cancel.” Swiss offered as an explanation. “Can I come in?”

Mountain nodded, only to realize that it couldn’t be heard. “Yes.”

He opened the curtain to the shower just slightly, using the bottom half to cover himself up in some form of decency. Swiss opened the door and gave Mountain that toothy grin, only clad in sweatpants. Mountain tried to not linger too long on his exposed chest, eyes flashing up to meet the multi ghouls.

“Come on, baby, I’ve seen you a million times,” Swiss closed the door with his foot, looking Mountain up and down as if he were prey, “you don’t have to hide from me.”

Mountain pursed his lips inward and turned his head, letting the curtain fall, fully revealing himself. He knew Swiss could see how stiff he was, clit puffy and pulsing. He himself could see just how red his dick was, the need still running rampant.

“There you are.” Swiss nearly purred, tilting his head to get a better look. “Would you like some help, sweetness?”

He couldn’t help the whine that escaped his lips and slapped a hand around his mouth. His breathing picked up and arousal flooded his system, the thought of having Swiss on him delightful.

“Yes,” he nodded, voice slightly muffled behind his hand. 

Swiss was quick to strip his pants and boxers off, joining in with Mountain. His eyes turned soft and he picked at the hand that covered his mouth, forcing it off with his own.

“C’mon, wanna hear you. No one else but me here.” He murmured. “I even locked both doors.”

Mountain nodded, words becoming harder by the minute, brain turning into fog in his mate’s presence. “I need you on me, please,” his hands flexed at his side, “mouth.”

“You got it, baby.” Swiss was on his knees in an instant, hands flying to kneed at his ass and mouthing along his thighs. He coerced Mountain back against the wall, giving silent praises as he went.

Finally, after what felt like eons, he licked a flat strip against his folds. Mountain keened at the sensation, hips bucking into his mouth. Swiss’ grip tightened on his cheeks, his blunt nails leaving imprints on the heated skin. He kissed and sucked religiously at Mountain’s clit, eating up all the slick as if he were starved for it. Mountain’s hand found its way to his horn, forcing his face into his dripping cunt, nose rubbing against the thick hair. Swiss groaned, the vibrations sending a shock through his system.

“More, fuck , Swiss,” Mountain moaned, eyes heavy as he watched Swiss eat him out. Swiss looked up and fluttered his eyes, teasing the tip of his tongue against his dick. 

“Fingers,” Mountain gasped, “in me, I need you in me.” 

Swiss happily obliged, giving a cheek one last squeeze before winding his hand down to his pretty hole, circling it with two fingers just like Mountain knew he would.

“Darling, please don’t tease-” Mountain said frantically with a buck of his hips, “I can’t do that-”

“No teasing,” Swiss’ words were muffled, tongue still working him. As quickly as those words came through, he dipped both fingers in, Mountain already loose enough to take it. Mountain nearly wailed, head thrown back against the wall when Swiss thrusts were timed with the laps his tongue was doing. His free hand found its way to Swiss’ other horn, needing the extra stability as his knees threatened to give in.

Mountain’s brain began oozing as the heat in his belly began to grow again, this stimulation much better than his own. He groaned when Swiss began to buck into the air, looking for any sort of stimulation of his own.

“Swiss, darling, I’m so close,” he warned. Swiss hummed in acknowledgement, his rhythm speeding up just barely but enough to drive Mountain mad. 

With one, two, three final sucks to his clit, Mountain was done for. He came with a silent scream, his shaky legs buckling under him. Swiss was quick to help him slide down the tub with ease, rubbing his thighs as he came down from his high.

Mountain sat up slightly when his vision was no longer blocky, breathless when he saw Swiss breathing hard and still kneeling, legs wide apart and clit shiny and red.

“Let me,” Mountain brought his hand down to hover over Swiss, eyes flicking up for permission. 

“Yeah,” Swiss moaned, “please.”

Mountain palmed the top of Swiss’ cunt and brought two fingers to his clit, circling it with practiced ease. Swiss let out another breathy moan and clung to his shoulders as if they were his lifeline. He grinded down to meet his fingers, needing the added pressure to help him through.

“Close,” he grunted.

“Sing for me, then.” Mountain almost growled.

Swiss’ hips worked faster as his orgasm crashed through him, ripping a beautiful yell out from him. His movements slowed down until he fully stopped, letting himself sit in Mountain’s palm as they both caught their breaths.

Mountain was the first to break the silence, “Why were you in my room, darling?” He slowly removed his hand from Swiss. 

“Left my charger in here from last night.” Swiss leaned into Mountain and nosed at his neck, taking in the earthy scent.

“And why did you guys cancel?” Mountain questioned, the horny haze dissipating as his mind started to reel over the intrusion.

“Oh, we didn't,” Swiss laughed. “I was just gonna go to the shed and smoke with Dew.”

Mountain rolled his eyes and began to extract himself from Swiss, the multi ghoul whining in protest. “I would’ve kicked you out if I knew that.”

“I know.” He grinned and stood, helping Mountain to his own feet. “But where’s the fun in that?”

“You basically just ghosted two of our packmates.” Mountain frowned.

“This was so much better, though," Swiss moaned obscenely, making Mountain groan, "besides, they'll forgive me."

Mountain shrugged; he highly doubted it. The two of them spent the rest of the shower cleaning each other off, a kiss offered intermittently until they were clean and the water was turned off. They dried off but didn’t bother with clothes, immediately heading straight for the giant’s bed. Mountain rolled his eyes and rolled around when Swiss insisted he be the big spoon, to let him live his dreams. Swiss hipped in celebration, legs and arms quickly becoming tangled in his own. They kicked up a hearty purr together and soon he felt his heavy lids drop, sleep coming to him easy. He should thank Aether later for the good advice.

[ashthewaterghoul]

Perfect - A Swiss Ghoul One Shot

He was staring at his partial-element, when he heard the wind die down completely for a serene few moments where the noise of the gale was replaced by another, much higher pitched shriek. Swiss was almost not sure he heard it. But he felt something. That cloud of anxiety had lifted for a halting moment when it happened. It was a call in so many different ways. He got up and quickly yanked his sweatpants on before opening the door. It was still cold as fuck and the wind had picked right back up again. He stuck his head out and looked around, trying to see who or what may be nearby, calling for Mountain a few times too. But he saw nothing. Swiss thought about that noise he heard though, and looked down instead. Or, After months of gradually debilitating anxiety that seemingly came out of no-where for no reason, Mountain takes Swiss away for a few days in their remote cabin. They had both hoped it might get Swiss out his own head for a bit, away from whatever what causing this, but Swiss never would have expected for it to follow him up there, and certainly hadn't expected this...

Rating: Mature

Words: 3.9k

Relationships: Swiss/Mountain

Tags: Soft Swiss, Soft Dom Mountain for a sec, storms, non-sexual nudity, lil spicy scene, safeword use, implied polyghouls, Mountain nicknames Swiss with different types of cheese, anxiety, panic attack. Spoilers (don't look if you don't want) - Kitfic, accidental baby acquisition sort of, Swiss' horniness catches up to him.

Lil TWs for severe anxiety, panic attacks, a mention of disordered eating, subspace mentions and safe-word use. Don't think there's any other warnings but lmk if I missed any!

~~~~

    Anxiety.

It was something that Swiss had, mercifully, never known too well. He’d always been confident, never had much so there was no fear over what he had to lose, and he’d always been easy going so there was never anything to worry about.

    That was until several months ago…

    Swiss had woken up one morning and just felt odd. It was like he was nervous but had no clue what about. It wasn’t too bad, kind of like when you misplace your favourite shirt and you hope you haven’t lost it. He tried taking a walk to clear his head, his usual “hobbies” for a distraction, then tried to get ridiculously high. But any and all effect was short lived, and that pit in his stomach only seemed to get even bigger and all-consuming.

    It had started in March, and now it was January.

    It had slowly and steadily been getting worse and worse until now it had gotten practically debilitating. To the point that small decisions were making him teeter on the edge of a spiral and everything just felt completely wrong. Nothing was enjoyable or simple anymore because it had been months of feeling like this and he had no clue why. It didn’t correlate with anything like his cycle or his elements flaring up with the changes of seasons - that sometimes put him a bit on edge, but never like this.

Read below the cut of on ao3

    “What do you want for lunch, Switchblade?” Mountain asked gently, breaking Swiss out of his own mind for a moment.

    “Uhh.” Swiss’ eyebrows furrowed, he felt like throwing up all the time so food always seemed like an impossible task.

    “Something little? Like a bag of chips and a banana?” Mountain suggested.

    Swiss had been eating less and less, and it unfortunately was showing. His thicker frame and gorgeous tummy had thinned out some. And despite a lack of energy, he wasn’t sleeping properly either, his eyes bruised from dark purple bags.

    Swiss shook his head. Tears pricked his eyes and his chest started feeling way too tight. No breath wanted to grace his lungs and his tail fixed tightly around his abdomen in a desperate self-soothing attempt that had become all too familiar recently.

    Mountain, instantly recognising his beloved’s panic attack, walked around enveloped him in a hug - tight enough to feel comforting but not too tight to restrict his breathing even more. He’d unfortunately had more than enough practice as of late.

    “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.” Mountain soothed, raking his claws over Swiss’ scalp, “Just breathe for me.”

    “Ca- C- Can’t.” Swiss wheezed.

    “Yes, you can. Just focus on me.” Mountain said, making sure to take deep breaths that Swiss would be able to feel and try to imitate himself.

    It took a few minutes, but Swiss calmed enough that Mountain could let go.

    “You back?” He asked gently, cupping one side of Swiss’ face in his palm.

    Swiss nodded, “’m sorry.”

    “You don’t need to be sorry.” Mountain assured, putting his forehead against Swiss’ and just breathing each other in.

    Swiss’ hands raked up Mountain’s sides and slipped under his shirt, instantly bringing a purr from the Earth Ghoul. Swiss’ hands then started pushing under Mountain’s waistband of his sweats and boxers in one go.

    “Hey, hey, hold on.” Mountain said, stopping Swiss’ hands with his own, “You haven’t wanted anything for ages. Are you sure?”

    “Please,” Swiss whispered, “I just want- need to let go for a bit.”

    Mountain scanned Swiss’ face thoroughly and only found pure desperation for his agony to stop. It was something Mountain had done plenty before – Rain suffered with a lot of anxiety and Mountain had become somewhat of an expert in soft dom-ing Rain so far into subspace that the Water Ghoul got to be lifted out of his body for a while. The look in Swiss’ eyes was exactly what he always saw in Rain’s.

    “Okay, Starman. I’ve got you. Gonna take care of you, okay?” Mountain said, cupping Swiss’ face in both hands and kissing his forehead.

    “Please, sir.” Swiss whined.

    “You don’t need to call me that now. You can call me whatever you want, I’ll help you regardless.” Mountain assured.

    “Mounty?” Swiss said.

    “Yes, my heart?”

    “I love you.”

    “I love you too. And you are so strong for wanting to let go for a while.” Mountain said, not expecting an answer but needing to say it, “You don’t have to speak from this point on, not if you don’t want to. Just gotta keep your mind open for me, okay?”

    Swiss nodded and did just that. Mountain held his face steady as the barrage of Swiss’ mental state hit him. He pushed it aside though, finding the part of Swiss’ mind that let them all telepathically communicate.

    This thing on? Mountain asked, just to check, and smiled when Swiss’ shoulders shook in a small laugh and nodded.

    “My room or yours?” Mountain asked, and Swiss wordlessly dragged them to the Earth Ghoul’s room.

    Mountain went about what was basically the routine he had for Rain. He checked in with Swiss plenty, knowing how fraught it all was for him and how scary it must be. Mountain knew he had to live up to his nickname of “gentle giant” as he went about this. And he did. Every pass of his large hands, every swipe with his tongue, every touch of his lips was gentle and reverent, and every word and sound from his lips was full of praise. Swiss had been so good for Mountain, so so good that Mountain could hardly believe that it was the same Ghoul that had often been so bratty it had taken him several hours to tame.

    In Swiss’ mind, Mountain could see how close Swiss was to that edge. This time not doddering towards a spiral, but towards the soft and cushy world of subspace. Once he was there, Mountain would get him deeper, getting him to stay there for a while. Slowly, he’d rise back out and he’d help him come back to this cruel reality. But as Mountain realised how close Swiss was to letting go, Swiss did too.

    Mountain had been as incredible as always. But Swiss’ instincts had been prickling from the moment he felt himself start to drop and give in. He tried to ignore it, desperate for that complete freedom from his mind. He wanted it so bad, to just let go and not feel anything but Mountain. His anxieties though disagreed, screaming at him to stay here because maybe the cause for his angst would come about and what use would he be if he was out of it? Swiss was so willing and eager to let go, yet his mind simply forbade it.

    Mounty?

“Yeah, baby?” Mountain said, breathless and slate-grey skin sweaty, but using his own voice to ground Swiss.

    Red. Can’t.

Instantly, Mountain stopped moving, trying to hide his sorrow on Swiss’ behalf. They both know how bad he needs it, but obviously Mountain is going to respect his boundary.

    “You’re such a good boy for telling me.” Mountain knew Swiss well enough to know that that was still okay to say.

    Swiss whined at the praise though.

    Not. ‘m weak and stupid.

“No, you’re not.” Mountain said, equal parts stern and loving, “You’re so strong. So unbelievably strong.”

    ‘m sorry. He sniffled, tears rolling down his face.

“Do not apologise, my love. It’s not your fault.” Mountain said, kissing his tears away, “Do you me want to…?” He gestured vaguely to where they were still joined.

    Swiss shook his head and pulled Mountain down on top of him, crushing himself and essentially using Mountain as a massive weighted blanket. Mountain just laughed into Swiss’ neck, and complied with the Multi.

    Swiss held onto Mountain like a lifeline and they stayed curled up for the rest of the afternoon. Aether had made a protein shake that Swiss had managed to slowly drink down. Obviously, it wasn’t enough. But Aether and Mountain praised him regardless because it was a big step for him.

    “Swissy?” Aether said.

    “Mhm?” Swiss responded.

    “Do you think it would do you good to get away from the Ministry for a couple days?” The Quint suggested, holding Swiss’ hand and using the contact to gently dose him on some Quintosis to clear the fog slightly.

    Swiss’s chest clenched at the thought of leaving but the same happened with the notion of staying.

    “Dunno.” He said so smally. It was completely uncharacteristic for him and Aether and Mountain’s hearts both ached with it.

    “You could go to the cabin maybe? Go by yourself, or someone with you? The whole pack, if you wanted.” Mountain suggested, his arm around Swiss’ shoulders.

    Swiss relaxed slightly at the thought of their cabin. It was at the edge of a forest that the Ghouls loved to hunt in, and Mountain had built it himself from trees he had grown with his own magic. They loved going there for getaways alone, or with a few or all of them. Sometimes Copia came but that wasn’t a lot - he wasn’t quite able to keep up with his Ghouls when they’re let off their Ministry leashes. The idea of the fresh air up there, the peace and quiet, the privacy and tranquillity made Swiss’ heart flutter in a way it hadn’t for a while.

    “I think you like that idea.” Aether smiled, also feeling the small weight lifting.

    Swiss nodded bashfully and leant against Mountain’s side, “You come with me?”

    “Of course, cheddar.” Mountain said, and Swiss gave a small laugh at the nickname.

    So, the next morning they packed up for a few days, and paid a small visit to see Papa and tell him the plan. The man was very close to his Ghouls and knew the whole situation. He didn’t hesitate to agree, and told them to go.

    Mountain commandeered one of the big 4x4’s to help cross the rough terrain as they neared the cabin, and Swiss DJ-ed for the two. Mountain kept his hand on Swiss’ thigh as much as he could, rubbing soothing circles in and constantly whispering praises for him - masterfully keeping Swiss in a state of submission so Mountain could take as much of the weight as he could, and while they both knew it was unlikely, Swiss could easily give into dropping completely if he wanted.

    When they arrived, they both stripped off. It was their safe space that reminded the Ghouls of their old homesteads and dens in the pits, and in the pits, they were all usually in the buff. It only ever felt like the natural cause of things to do the same here. It also meant that as Mountain lit the fire, and Swiss settled into the furs of the nest, the Multi had plenty of skin-to-skin contact to try and ground himself with. The two laid glued to each other, wandering touches and lazily making out, not at all sexual, just wanting the comfort.

    Although it did start to get late and their stomachs started gurgling.

    “Do you want to come and hunt with me?” Mountain asked.

    “Honestly, I think if I get blood on my fangs right now, I’m gonna hurl.” Swiss answered truthfully.

    Mountain’s face twisted in concern because that was beyond abnormal for hellspawn, “Are you going to be okay by yourself for a bit?”

    Swiss took a deep breathe, “I’ll be okay. Don’t bother about getting anything big, I won’t eat a lot, if at all.”

    “Okay, gruyere.” He stole one last gentle kiss before getting up and starting to gear up for the weather outside. A snow storm was slowly building on the drive up and it was in full effect now. Luckily, Ghouls are a lot more durable than humans so it wouldn’t affect Mountain much more than just being really fucking cold and he did value his extremities.

    Mountain left, and Swiss slumped in the furs. The nest felt way too empty without Mountain in there and so he moved to one of the armchairs by the fire place instead. The wind howled outside, and Swiss tried to let it lull him. He stared into the flames and watched their beckoning dance, reaching a hand out and using his own Fire affinity to play with them a bit more.

    He was staring at his partial-element, when he heard the wind die down completely for a serene few moments where the noise of the gale was replaced by another, much higher pitched shriek.

    Swiss was almost not sure he heard it. But he felt something. That cloud of anxiety had lifted for a halting moment when it happened. It was a call in so many different ways.

    He got up and quickly yanked his sweatpants on before opening the door. It was still cold as fuck and the wind had picked right back up again. He stuck his head out and looked around, trying to see who or what may be nearby, calling for Mountain a few times too. But he saw nothing.

    Swiss thought about that noise he heard though, and looked down instead.

    It was entirely what his instincts told him it would have been, yet he never would’ve actually expected to see a kit, in their bassinet, on his doorstep.

    Instantly he picked up the basket and brought them in. The kit was screaming their little lungs out and their lips, fingers, toes and tail were turning a concerning shade of pale grey from the cold. He sat the both of them in front of the fire and picked them up in their blanket, cradling them close to his chest.

    And that cloud of anxiety that had been weighing down on him all these months, finally lifted now he finally had his daughter in his arms.

    Wait, rewind that a minute… DAUGHTER?!

Swiss couldn’t believe it. Sure, they had always made jokes about how his lascivious lifestyle probably had given him dozens of kits he doesn’t know about. But that’s what they always were, jokes. With Ghoul biology, if it wasn’t his cycle, he wasn’t fertile. And even when he was in his cycle, Aether kept him dosed on a very specific type of Quintessence so there wouldn’t be any byproduct to his magnified horniness.

    The Multi couldn’t deny her though. As soon as her little hand peaked out under her blanket and knocked against his chest, something in his soul clicked. He knew she was his. He could feel the mix of elements coming from her – Earth, Fire and Quintessence as the main ones. As he lifted her up closer to his face, she smelt like him. His scent was one of burning liquor and leather. Hers was also of leather, but instead of the spirits Swiss loved to drink so much, it was something more like warm spices. Gingerbread, Swiss came to the conclusion of. Such a perfectly cosy little bug with her slightly higher body temperature too. There was also the fact that as soon as she was in Swiss’ arms, she started to calm down instantly.

    A quick check in the basket and folds of the blanket gave Swiss no indication of who her mother was, how she came to be, or even her name. Swiss’ Quintessence could tell she was about 3 weeks old, and for her to have been left in that storm for Satan-knows-how long, let alone anything else she had been forced to face, and the fact that she even existed, it was an absolute miracle that she was alive.

    She was squirming again though, and Swiss instantly knew why. If her mother was human, then she didn’t know or wanted to keep her warm, if her mother was a Ghoulette, it was out of mercy for the cold or something crueller. Swiss didn’t dwell on it though as he took her little onesie off and cradled her in his arms again. Skin-to-skin with her father, she settled right back down again. He melted at the sight, and raised his own body heat to keep her warm, also making the fire burn a bit brighter too.

    Satanas, everything felt so perfect now. And Swiss now understood why he had been so anxious for months. Ghouls were insanely protective and territorial, especially for their mates and kits. It was worst with Earth Ghouls, and Swiss’ Earth affinity was one of his strongest, obviously not helping matters. Somehow, their instincts always knew they had made a kit before they did. This started in March so with her being just shy of a month, it was likely that’s when she was conceived. Swiss’ anxiety was over not being able to care for her mother, to build her a birthing nest covered in his scent to keep anyone away, protect her as she gave birth and care for her and the kit afterwards. Well, that was even if it was a she. There were many identities in the Ministry and Swiss wasn’t exactly fussy…

    That didn’t matter now though because finally she’s right where she should be. In Swiss’ arms, where he can nurture her and protect her.

    “Hey, little one.” Swiss whispered, completely choked on every emotion you can think of, “I’m your Papa.”

    Yeah, this felt right.

    Swiss looked at the little Ghuleh. She had thick dark hair; her skin was a slightly darker grey too. She had two little mounds on her forehead where her horns would one day grow through and her tail had the beginnings of a very tiny spade. Her tail was waggling to try and wrap around something so Swiss helped out and coiled it around one of his fingers. Her eyes cracked open, and while far from being fully developed, her irises were bright and shining gold, instantly hypnotising Swiss into doing whatever he could for her. Her round cheeks pulled up into a toothless grin and Swiss laughed.

    “I definitely can’t deny you, can I?” As if he would ever want to.

    She squawked in delight and kicked her tiny feet.

    Swiss would be lying if he said he’d never thought about kits. He just always figured he’d make a terrible father, having way too many unhealthy vices and his behaviour not being mature or domestic enough at all. Then there was a pressure of choosing his kit’s mother. He had a few mates within the pack who had the right anatomy but none of them wanted kits, at least not with any particular urgency. And even if they did decide to have them one day, they’d probably choose a more responsible father like Aether or Mountain. Swiss just never let himself think of it because he figured it would never happen.

    But, one thing he did have was a list. It was buried in the bottom of his notes app and hadn’t been opened for a few years. But Swiss remembered every name he put on there and knew which one his little girl would have.

    “Nyathera.”

    She survived.

As soon as Swiss named her, she gurgled happily, burrowing further into Swiss’ chest. He chuffed a laugh before holding her a little tighter, licking at her head to clean and comfort her, and pushing his scent out. If he had known, he would’ve been scenting whoever caught on him, and scented her as soon as she came into the world and every night for that first week. It was to acclimate her to her father’s scent so she would easily find safety and comfort in it, but it was also a defensive instinct. As grim as it was, kits had a certain smell to them and some would use it to hunt Ghouls while their guards are down, caring for their kits or sleeping at their sides. By covering up the newborn scent, he was protecting her. And he also had a lot of time to make up for.

    “Satan’s fucking toe nail, Switchblade. What are you doing? It absolutely reeks-” Mountain was cut off by himself and his jaw was dropped comically low.

    “I- I- I don’t know either. She was just on the doorstep and, Mountain, my Lord, it’s just so right. I heard her and found her and picked her up. She’s so perfect and she’s mine, Petal, I know it in my bones, my soul, she’s mine.” Swiss rambled furiously and Mountain shucked off his layers as he spoke, the hares he caught left on the kitchenette counter and came over to Swiss.

    He kissed the Multi’s forehead and put his own there, “It’s alright, darling. It’s okay now.”

    “It’s more than okay, it’s perfect.” Swiss whispered.

    Mountain looked down to the tiny Ghuleh and smiled, “What’s your name, little one?”

    “Nyathera.” Swiss said proudly.

    “Well, hello there, Nyathera. I’m Mountain, and I’m going to be the one making sure your Daddy doesn’t burn the Ministry down trying to change your diapers, okay?” He cooed, not touching her until Swiss had given the okay, which he suspected would be a while.

    “Hey! I’ll only singe the curtains a bit, probably.” Swiss smirked, “And it’s Papa to her.”

    Mountain snorted, “Oh, Copia’s gonna love that one.”

    “Tough shit, it just feels right.” Swiss said, tears pricking his eyes and beading on his lashes, “Fuck, Mount, it just feels so right.”

    “It looks it to.” He smiled, “When I walked in here, seeing you hold her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sight suit you more.”

    “Really?” Swiss couldn’t express right now how much that meant to him.

    “Really.” Mountain confirmed.

    “Thank you.” Swiss said, knocking his horns against Mountain’s antlers, “For everything. Taking care of me the last year, almost. I know it wasn’t easy.”

    “It wasn’t, I hated seeing you like that. But none of it was your fault. And I would do it a million times over, forever until the world implodes, if it meant you get to be as happy as you are right now.” Mountain affirmed, rubbing a hand over Swiss’ knee.

    The three Ghouls stayed in silence with one another for a while. Mountain was making an effort to keep his scent in. Swiss’ was the most important right now for little Nyathera. If Swiss wanted one of the pack to help raise her in place of her other biological parent, Mountain would happily put his name on every line of the sign-up sheet, but until then Swiss was all that mattered. To him and Nyathera.

    “C- can you call Aeth?” Swiss eventually broke the silence, “We don’t have anything for her here and nothing came with her. I don’t know how long she was out there for, I don’t know if she was born with anything, I don’t kno-”

    “Shh, my sweet.” Mountain said, an expert at cutting off Swiss-spirals, “I’ll call him now. Do you want to talk or me?”

    “You.” Swiss said instantly.

    “Okay, I’ll go do it now.” Mountain said, kissing Swiss’ horn as he stood and looking again to the little Ghoulette, “You’ll watch him for me for a few minutes now, won’t you, Nyathera?”

    Swiss stuck his tongue out before turning to his daughter, “We’re going to be a great little team, aren’t we, Nya?”

    “Satan help us all.” Mountain grimaced as he went to the other side of the cabin - a specific spot by the corner that randomly had better signal that the rest of the place - and dialled Aether. As Mountain gave a very brief rundown of the night’s events, Swiss laughed as even he could distinctly hear Aether’s confusion.

Nya joined in with some gorgeous giggles herself, and Swiss knew that the two of them would conquer the world.

    Aether’s voice, despite not being on speaker nor Mountain’s phone being on full volume, could clearly be heard shouting: “I’m sorry, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!”

Yeah, Swiss was going to have a lot of explaining to do…

~~~

a/n: SwissAlps was meant to be a SINGLE SENTENCE in this. It was just meant to be a line about Swiss having to safeword but, these two dorks stuck around and I love SwissAlps, so I won't complain. Also, yes, I took the name Nyathera from my ficlet Metamorphosis , but this is a separate thing, Rain is not Nya's other parent. It's just a pretty name and I like it lol.

One shot master post can be found here!

[ohanny]

you gotta give it to kon diao. man does not half-ass things. when kuea broke off his engagement, he moved to the secret house. when kon diao broke off his engagement, he said goodbye to his dog and booked the first flight to switzerland to live his best life as a cow in the alps.

[aestum]

(by Jisca Lucia)

[hier--soir]

a lover’s pinch | masterlist

professor!joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni series summary: a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. joel miller is entirely off limits. but now that you’ve had a taste, will you be able to keep your hands to yourselves? series warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], alcohol consumption, ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, explicit smut, angst, secret relationship, joel has both his daughters, joel's profession is very ooc but the core of his personality [grumpy], lore [dilf], mannerisms [being a secret softy] etc etc are all as true to character as my two humble hands can manage. explicit warnings included in each part. main masterlist ziggy's moodboard | ziggy’s moodboard II sil's moodboard ALP playlist

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten |

╰┈➤ night breeze [an ALP interlude set between seven & eight]

[tinkerbitch69]

Kiden Nixon will continue to haunt Laura Kinney’s narrative and yet marvel will continue to insist Laura is straight!

Who, exactly, do they think they are fooling here?

[laurearte]

Leorio les a expédiés en colo à l’alpes d’huez et gon voulait envoyer une photo à kurapika... mais pas grave parce que de toute façon il comptait déjà faire la randonnée sous le télésiège pour récupérer son portable. Killua a sûrement insisté pour soulever la barre 20 mètres avant l’arrivée

[hauntedhokage]

PART 13: The Date

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

SUMMARY:  You get a bit closer to Bakugou, in multiple ways.

[series masterlist] | {ao3} | [tumblr masterlist] | {ko-fi} | [spotify playlist]

Last minute scheduling changes resulted in Katsuki offering to pick you up from the station rather than your apartment so he could take you out.  The text you got simply said: ‘Dinner & mini golf’ and you left your questions for later since you didn’t want him to feel self conscious (you didn’t think he had the patience for mini golf or any activities that may be crowded). It was going to be a good evening with him, because you were both excited about going out on a date. 

“I'm actually terrible at mini golf,” you confess, looking up at Katsuki as he hands you the yellow handled club. “It’s almost criminal to let me have one of these things in my hand.” 

“Good thing I literally get paid to stop crime.” His counter is met with a gentle nudge of his putter to your calf, and you roll your eyes as he leads you to the first hole. “We‘ll make a pro out of you.”

“I didn’t think you’d be big on mini golf. Small clubs, rules, a lot of people - doesn’t quite seem like your vibe.”

“I like that I don’t have to try hard. It’s nice to be good at things, but this is something I don’t care about being good at so I don’t really care to try.” 

For someone who didn’t care to try, he was pretty damn good at mini golf. It was actually a bit frustrating to watch him effortlessly sink ball after ball after ball with only a few strokes not hitting their intended target. The scorecard was thrown out after the second hole, his seven strokes compared to your fifteen proving there was no need to even try to compete or interest in keeping record of how bad you were at mini golf. 

You would give him credit for knowing when to tease and when not to tease you for your performance. Maybe he’d seen enough of Eijirou’s jokes fall flat that he knew when he’d get the desired reaction, that wouldn’t be surprising considering how closely he analyzed everything around him. 

“Can I show you something?” The question has you looking up from your obnoxious yellow golf ball to see him approach when you nod. “Your grip on the club is weird and I’ve noticed that your swing is weak, that’s why your shots never go where you want them to and go about two feet at a time.”

He’s standing behind you before you have a chance to overthink it, the warmth of his body at your back as he leans over you. Large hands carefully adjust yours on the grip of the club, the earthy smell of his cologne mixed with the constant smell of smoke washing over you like a forest fire.

“They go more than just two feet,” you defend, earning a breathy chuckle in your ear.

“Yeah, sometimes they go three,” he teases, his hands settling over yours as he steps closer. “It’s okay to smack the shit outta the ball. It’s not like you’ve got pro hero strength.”

“No, but with my luck it’d go flying and I’d hit someone with the ball.” 

“Yeah, that’s fair.” His arms start to swing with yours, getting into a steady rhythm with you as you try to focus on what he was saying. “Let’s hit the ball now, yeah?”

He moves with you as you step forward to line up with the ball, and again his arms move with yours to hit the ball with just enough force to actually send it towards the hole. 

“Look at that, at least four feet now.”

“You’re so mean.” You’re pouting as he steps away from you, instantly feeling the colder air against your back without his warmth blocking it out. He only smirks while picking up his beer from the ledge, leaving you to pick up your own drink as you lean against the ledge to watch him take his shot. “Dare you to hit yours one handed.”

“You think I can’t?”

“I’m sure you can, but can you hit it well?”

His response to the challenge is to line up the shot, then start to drink from his cup while swinging the putter - and you watch in amazement as the ball not only goes straight, but knocks into your ball to send it a few feet forward.  

“I hate you.”

“Nah, you think I’m hot.” The correction has your cheeks flushing, because yeah of course you did but so did half of the country. The number one hero was incredibly hot - and not just where his quirk was involved. “Don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, maybe.” 

Because he was, and the fact that he was interested in you was insane to think about. He was a pro hero, deeply committed to another pro hero, and he wanted to go out on dates with you. Sure, you were dating his boyfriend, but you were just a reporter - no quirk, just a pretty face that looked wonderful on television and some critical views on hero work. You still wondered how you had managed to pull Eijirou, your beloved chivalrous hero, when you had zero charm and minimal patience after he’d spilled coffee on you. 

“I think you’re pretty hot, too,” he comments as you walk towards your balls for your next shots, something that had your cheeks warm as you nudge him with your elbow. “Beautiful in general; but how smart and patient you are, combined with how much you care is pretty hot.”

“My insides are sexy?”

“Yeah.” His confirmation makes you smile, only for you to laugh when he realizes what you said and looks over to you with a blush. “Wait, not like that. Like your personality insides, not your organs.”

“You only want me for my kidneys,” you sigh, waving him off as you settle in to take your shot. This time your ball actually goes where you want it to, into the hole that will allow you to gain more distance. “You see that? I’ve gotta be your favorite golf student, right?”

“Only if you can confirm that you’ve got both of your kidneys.” He pats your side as he comes to stand in front of you, fingers carefully prodding at your back and making you giggle since it tickled. “I bet the people behind us are pissed.”

“Eh, we offered to let them play ahead on the eleventh and they chose not to.”

“Why not our apartment?” He asks as you enter your apartment building, a place he'd never seen the inside of since he'd only ever stayed in the car if he went with Eijirou to drop something off for you. It was interesting to see where you lived when you weren't half asleep on the couch tangled around your shared boyfriend who refused to move to the bed since he "wasn't sleeping".

“I’m morning anchor this week, I don’t like bothering you guys in the morning after you’re out patrolling all night. Eiji can’t stay asleep when the shower runs, since his room shares a wall with the bathroom.” Your explanation has him nodding as he follows you into the elevator of your apartment building. You really were always thinking about how to make them more comfortable, which makes him wonder if all of the times you stayed at your place instead of theirs was because of your schedule conflicting with theirs. Something that would definitely have to get figured out, considering Eijirou wanted forever with you, living together was going to be part of that. “But am I really that bad at mini golf?”

“You are terrible at mini golf,” he teases as you lean into the wall, and you can’t help but pout at how he answered with zero hesitation. “But you’ve got this focused face when you get ready to hit the ball that’s pretty cute.”

You have no idea where talkative Bakugou came from, but you’re definitely not complaining. Not when he was calling you cute, and the other compliments. It made a lot more sense now when Eijirou had told you that Katsuki could actually be very charming when the mood struck. Could you meet his level of charm? You weren’t sure but it was always worth a shot. 

“If you wanted to give me more mini golf lessons, I wouldn’t complain.”

“No?”

“I like spending time with you, Katsuki.” Your voice is soft as you look up at him, seeing his cheeks flush as the elevator door opens on your floor. “You’re very fun to be around, I see why Eiji loves you so much. Not that I ever questioned it before, but-“

“No, I get what you mean. It just like, hits different when you get to spend individual time together and not after you’ve almost died.”

“Or dealt with the massive stress of being at a fundraising gala.” 

“Again, almost died.” You snort at that, shaking your head at the anti-social hero. He’d landed himself with an extroverted boyfriend and you, a public figure who didn’t wear a mask or punch people that everyone in the city knew and gawked at. There were going to be a lot of evenings like that in his future, sometimes being the hero making the appearance to pull better PR. 

“You were very brave that whole night. I don’t think I can say enough how much fun I had with you.” You opt not to ask him what he’s going to do when future events pop up that will require his appearance at your side or when you ask for a favor that involved him in his costume telling kids to say no to drugs or something like that. Wearing the mask was likely easier for him, but that was something you’d work through, you supposed. Worst case scenario, buttering him up like you did to Eijirou would most likely work. Men were men, after all. 

Katsuki Bakugou, however, was a very unique man that you were thrilled to be getting to know better.