#of course he aged you can see the effect of time on him but he never had an arc he never realized hes wrong because the story cannot allow | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gumiluver · 6 months

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SIN FOR ME ~ JJK NSFW SCENARIOS

synopsis: jjk men as the seven deadly sins <3

cover pic credit: chaeeunn2 on pintrest

lovers <3: afab!reader, gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro/zen’in toji, ryomen sukuna, okkotsu yuta, kamo choso

byr/byi: the content in this fic is not suitable for individuals under the age of 18, minors please do not interact

cw: nsfw, rough sex (all lovers <3), manhandling (satoru, sukuna, choso), squirting (suguru, toji, choso), choking (sukuna), dacryphilia (suguru), breeding kink (suguru, kento), cunnilingus (toji, yuta, choso), daddy kink (toji), pussy slapping (sukuna ofc), thigh slapping (yuta), overstimulation (suguru, toji, choso), light bondage (yuta)

✧༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻✧

SATORU -> PRIDE 🖤

Gojo Satoru, better known as ‘the worlds strongest,’ is not a very humble man, to say the least. His ego can get the best of him at times, but that’s part of his charm—being a prideful bastard, that is.

To be fair, it is well earned—you don’t get that type of recognition just for fun after all. His natural aptitude towards cursed energy along with his enhanced physical prowess make him an unstoppable force, and he makes sure to own up to his title of ‘being the best’ by proving it to you nightly, even if you already acknowledge him as such.

But what he truly yearns for is to hear your little cockdrunk praises, to see you become enamored with the way he’s making you feel. He loves hearing those little thoughtless babbles of praise and those helpless begs that fall from your salacious mouth. It all just feeds into his pride and makes him ache for more.

“o-ohh my—fuck,” you moan, arching your lower back as satoru presses his tip against your soaked pussy. He guides it along your folds, gathering your essence and coating his cock with your slick. He snickers, already loving how much of an effect he has on you, “this wet for me already, princess? haven’t even started playin’ with ya yet.”

He really can’t help himself when given the opportunity to tease you, loving the way you get all red and embarrassed when he points out just how much you obviously want him. You’ll try and deny it too, but how could you deny something—someone—that makes your princess pussy gush like fucking crazy? You shake your head, flushing at his accusation while averting his piercing gaze.

“Ah ah ah, pretty girl. Eyes on me. Want you to watch my cock sink into this pussy,” he tsks, pinning your hips down with his one hand to ensure you won’t squirm away from him as he brings his other to grip the back of your neck. He angles your neck downward, making sure that you have the perfect view of him taking what’s his, and the cry that escapes your mouth once he bottoms out makes his tip leak ridiculously inside you.

But Satoru knows better, he knows when his pretty pillow princess is holding out on him—and he is not pleased by your restraint.

“I know for a fact you can be a hell of a lot louder than that, princess. What’s got ya all shy now, huh?” he taunts, starting up a moderately fast pace that invades your warm, plush walls. He releases the grip he has on the nape of your neck and the side of your hip to travel down towards your pussy, quickly positioning his thumb above your sensitive clit while his other hand presses against your lower tummy, effectively making you squeeze around his cock as he starts to rearrange your guts with a newfound, vigorous pace.

“AAHH!!” you cry, completely surprised by the sudden burst of pleasure that courses through your body. You feel your mind short-circuit from the sharp intrusion of his cock fucking up into your cervix, all the while he ruthlessly rubs against your small clit. The way he massages your womb with his hand as he meets each of his thrust makes you constrict around his cock with a vice-like grip. He can feel you squeeze him for all his worth, and he can’t help but fuck into you harder and faster—hoping to mold the shape of his cock forever into your beautiful pussy.

“ohfuckohfuckohfuckkkk—toruuuu!! ‘s so goooood!!” you cry loudly. All prior thoughts having left your mind as you become reduced to nothing but a needy little cockdrunk slut that would do anything for him—the only man who’s been able to make you lose your morals for the sake of pleasure.

“Thaaaat’s it—squeeze my cock juuust like that, princess. Take it all in and make me proud,”

SUGURU -> GREED 🖤

Everything about Suguru makes him a dangerous man. His technique, his intelligence, his energy, his charisma—it all aids in his natural greed that makes him want to take, take, take.

His hunger to have and own everything and anything makes him an insatiable lover. He wants to see you writhe away from him, overwhelmed by his greedy little appetite—but what truly makes him dangerous is just how turned on he gets from slutting your pussy out to his cock. He just can’t seem to get enough of the way your pussy fucking milks his cock like none other.

Just the thought of expending all of your energy—and then some—makes his dick ache with pain. He’ll even overstimulate himself by continuously pumping into you even after cumming inside you, just to make sure he’s got you completely fucked out for him.

“More,” suguru demands, “need you to cum more fr’ me baby, need you to fucking make a mess,” he says as he rubs your clit faster and thrust his fingers up into your core deeper. A pained squeal leaves your lips as your hand shoots down to try and stop suguru from overstimulating you further, too fucked out to give him another orgasm.

“s-sugu’ baby pleaseee, m’ so sensitive!! n-no more, can’t take no more baby plea-mphh!!” your cries suddenly being interrupted by his tongue shoving itself into your mouth. You groan loudly in the kiss, making suguru smirk at how easy it is to get you to fold for him.

But still, he’s not completely satisfied—yet.

He needs to make sure that you’re his; undoubtably and irrevocably, his. He’s greedy enough to mark your skin up, to attack your neck with an onslaught of bites and licks that leave hickeys across your décolletage.

But now he needs to take what’s his. He needs to breed his pussy and claim it as his.

And what’s even more twisted is how easy it would be to take you as his, to simply stuff his fat dick in your tiny hole and to paint your walls white with his thick cum. Just the thought of having you wherever or whenever he wanted makes him quickly remove his fingers from your tight pussy and mindlessly shove his massive length inside of you with one. harsh. thrust.

And the scream you let out is like music to his ears.

He coos at you, hushing your whimpers with gentle kisses along your face. He licks the tears that fall down the fat of your cheeks and groans at the taste. He knows he’s big, but he loves how much you struggle to take him—the little tears are just an added ego boost for him.

But despite his attempt to ground you back to him you can’t help the white flash of pure ecstasy that overwhelms your body and takes over your brain, forcing you to squirt out an early orgasm all over his thick shaft.

And this is when he truly realizes that you will forever remain as his, and his alone. The way your pussy squirts as if she were cryin’ for him, how she grips his shaft ridiculously tight as if she were begging him to stay inside, and how she fucking sings to him as he pounds his fat cock into her, the loud *squelch squelch squelch* overtaking your moans, making geto lose his sanity for good.

“You’re mine, and no one else can have you, understand me, pretty girl?”

KENTO -> ENVY 🖤

Interestingly, Nanami only exemplifies his envy when he fucks you. It’s not like he means to let his envy of others get the best of him, all he wants to do is give you the most perfect life.

The second he laid his eyes on you he could tell that his need for you would be unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. He just had to claim you as his before anyone else could.

He would never admit this to you, but his envy is what made him decide that he wanted you to be his pretty little housewife. He noticed how his fellow colleagues were already fathers of their own, and saw how content their lives were and wanted to replicate that same feeling with you. What better way to do so than actually having you be his housewife?

“Look at what you do to me, look at how much control you have over me baby,” kento grunts, aggressively palming his angry cock in front of you. You whine and squeeze your thighs together, trying to alleviate the ache that settles in your cunt, but failing helplessly.

You really weren’t sure as to what exactly got him so worked up—all you did was cook him his favorite dinner! You knew he was having a hard day at work, and since you had the day off you thought he’d enjoy coming home to a comfy home and yummy meal.

But, it just so happens that today—of all days—half of the staff decided to take off early for the upcoming holidays, no doubt to be with their little spouses and children, which meant that he had to pick up three times the amount of sorcery work than normal.

And you knew how much he despised working overtime.

So when he comes home to see your cute form bent in front of the kitchen table, ass beautifully on display for him to ogle at while you carefully arrange the dinner plates—he fucking loses it.

And now, he’s got you right where he wants you—pressed in a mean mating press that makes your thighs burn and cunt drip with excitement. He lines his red tip up to your sweet pussy and slowly inches his cock inside you, savoring the pleasure-filled whimpers and cries that fall from your lips.

“mmmm, fuck baby—take me so good,” he praises, pushing your calves up and onto his shoulders so he can fully bottom out in you.

And in this position, all that you can do is just take it, and he doesn’t want to hear a single complaint fall from your lips. You’ll be his good girl for the night, won’t you?

“Think it’s time you gave me a little one—what do you say, love? Ready to be a mommy?”

TOJI -> GLUTTONY 🖤

Toji can never get enough of anything—money, alcohol, gambling, sex— there’s never been such a thing as “too much” in his dictionary.

He has a particularly ravenous appetite, especially when it deals with you and your sweet little cries of pleasure—he just can’t get enough of ‘em. The way your cries feed his hunger and how your pussy expertly milks his cock makes him loose his mind and indulge in his gluttonous tendencies.

Will never let you have just one orgasm. He has to rip multiple orgasms out of you, or else he won’t be satisfied. Even if you’re overstimulated and begging for him to stop—telling him that it’s too much or that you’re too sensitive, he’ll purposefully pump his hips harder and faster to get you to squeeze around him even more.

“How many times was that now doll, five?” he questioned, barely even breaking a sweat from the rigorous pounding he’s been giving you. His thick cock is pressed deeply inside your womb, pushing up to that soft gummy spot that he knows makes you a whiny mess.

And you? You can barely even feel yourself, let alone think about how good his thick shaft feels inside you. You swear it’s been eons since he’s given you a break, and your cunt is about to explode from all the stimulation if you don’t get one soon.

“D-daddy please! ‘s too much fr’ me!” you plea, but your cries fall on deaf ears as he wraps his hand around your neck, applying light pressure to the sides to further stimulate your sense of touch, forcing you to only focus on the pleasure he’s making you feel.

“Too much? Sorry, don’t know what that means doll,” he mocks, laughing deviously as he quickens his thrusts and assaults your pussy with demon-like strength. Your voice is bouncing off the walls, getting higher and higher in pitch as you reach your sixth orgasm of the night.

But it was all too much! You couldn’t control the orgasm that rips out of you and the absolute mess you’re making from squirting all over him. A loud groan emits from Toji as he watches your poor pussy spray all over his toned pelvis and thighs. Your cunt involuntarily constricts around his fat cock so tightly that it pushes his cock out, and he’s quick to replace it with his filthy mouth.

He’s relentless, truly relentless. He starts to suck on your already sensitive clit, pinning your hips down to the bed so you can’t squirm away from him. He won’t even let you take a sip of water if it meant leaving your sweet pussy; so he makes sure to take his time with your cunt, eating up every single ounce of your essence that he becomes hypnotized by your sweet ambrosia.

“Mmmm—ya taste like fuckin’ candy, doll. And ya not goin’ anywhere ‘till I get my fill,”

SUKUNA -> WRATH 🖤

Wrath itself is a complex emotion that often gets a bad rap, but Sukuna’s wrath ignites a warmth throughout your body that makes you feel alive and him passionate.

And when that same wrath bleeds into the most intimate of moments, he just can’t help but mix a bit of pain with pleasure.

Sex is where he can be his true self, take all his rage and anger and change it into a passion that makes you succumb to him without much thought. It’s almost like he holds all his rage in just to take it out on your pussy—and to be fair, you’re not complaining one bit.

“Too deep for ya? Is that why you’re crying so much, little one? Awww—too bad,” he coos at you, feigning sympathy as he continues to piston his hips against the fat of your ass, forcing his thick cock inside of your plush walls at an unreasonable speed and depth that makes you see start.

“ah! ah! ah! ‘k-kuna!!” you cry, each moan punctuated by a single thrust of his hips, the force of him rocking his cock inside you takes your breath away and leaves you aching for more. He has you bent over in front of him, plump ass on display while he pushes your back into a wicked arch. Cute little dimples adorn your lower back that he can’t help but press his thumbs into, further pushing you down and making you take every inch of his thick shaft. You feel your pussy latch onto his cock as if it were it’s life source, your knuckles turning white as you grip the pillow in front of you and shove your face in it to quiet your whorish screams of pleasure.

He growls, displeased at your attempts at hiding just how good he was making you feel. How dare you try to conceal how good your king makes you feel? He’s quick to grasp your hair, gripping at the base and lifting you upwards. You belt out a cry of pain, the sudden jolt of being pulled upward by your hair while he holds you tightly across your tummy makes you feel so disoriented, he has to give your pussy a few smacks to get your attention back to him, “if I have to stop what I’m doing again to make sure you don’t hide your pathetic pleas, you won’t be able to walk for a whole fucking week,”

He stills inside of you, impaling his monstrous cock deeper and deeper until it feels like he’s in your fucking throat. You know he’s waiting for you to respond, but he’s way too deep in your guts to even let the gasp of air out that you’ve been holding in your lungs. You start to shake around him helplessly, and he can’t help but laugh at how pitifully small you are to him—how easy it is to make you a submissive little whore, “awww what is it little one, cat got your tongue?”

His laugh bellows throughout his kingdom as he continues his attack on your pussy, gripping your throat now as he angles his hips upwards to piston his cock so deep inside you that it inadvertently silences your pretty moans.

And he does not appreciate that one bit.

“I told you not to hide your moans from your king. Now, you’re gonna take your punishment like a good slut—or else,”

YUTA -> LUST 🖤

Yuta’s always been dedicated to your pleasure—so much so that he refuses to acknowledge his own needs until you fall apart on his mouth and fingers.

He’ll take his sweet time with foreplay too, the longest time ever being an hour of him between your legs, making out with your pussy and fingering you to oblivion.

Absolutely despises it when you try and push him away—how could you deprive him of you, his most prized possession? If he even suspects that you’ll try and push him away from your pretty pussy, he’ll make sure to take some…preventative measures.

“Mmmm—what a pretty sight,” Yuta moans, palming himself through his jeans as he watches you try and wiggle out of the restraints. He’s got your wrists handcuffed above you, woven between the headboard to ensure you don’t squirm away while he has his fun.

You couldn’t help the pathetic whine that escapes your lips, wanting to break free from the cuffs so you could just touch him already, “yuta pleaseee! just wanna touch youuu~”

He coos at you, sympathetic towards your needs; after all, he’d beg too if he were in your position,“Not yet baby, need you to stay nice and still for me alright? Can you do that for me, lovey?”

He watches you nod your head, melting at the little pout that you give him when he starts to strip. Wide, eager eyes follow his movement, and you take note of his thick cock straining heavily against his boxers—just begging to be touched. You clench your thighs together as he walks towards you, settling himself between your thighs to face your vulnerable form. He’s grinning wickedly, gripping a thigh in each hand as he hoists your thighs over his shoulders—granting perfect access to your slick pussy.

“Already so wet fr’ me baby, gotta have a taste first,” he mumbles, trailing gentle kisses from your inner thigh up to where your cute little clit is hiding. His warm breath over your cunt makes you squirm in his arms, earning yourself a smack towards your inner thigh.

“That’s the only warning you get, so behave,” he scolds, wanting to enjoy the moment shared between him and your angelic pussy. You yelp at the harsh sting of his palm, and the sight of your pussy quivering makes Yuta indulge in his lust, tenfold.

“Keep your eyes on me love, want you to watch how wet this pussy gets fr’ me,”

CHOSO -> SLOTH 🖤

Choso is sloppy. Not in a way that makes him annoying or an inconvenience; oh no—he’s sloppy because of how obsessed he gets, especially when dealing with your pussy and with how messy you get.

He always takes his time with you, giving languid and lazy licks that make your cunt flutter ridiculously from the pressure his tongue provides. He doesn’t even tell you to sit on his face anymore, opting to simply hoist your naked hips above his face and plops you straight onto his awaiting tongue—loving how easy it is to access your slick and maneuver your hips.

Makes you cum super quick. Like, unreasonably quick. He’ll just keep going and going and going until you soak the sheets, reveling at the way your sweet cunny gushes for him.

“aahh- m’ g-gonna make a mess, chosoooo!!!” You cry loudly, unable to control the slick that squirts out from your pussy. He quickens his thrusts up into your pussy while rubbing your clit at the same, consistent pace but with much more pressure, much more vigor, and much more persistence. The black spots that start to sneak up in your vision a clear indication of your body losing its battle between pleasure and pain, slowly draining you of air as you start to pant heavily.

“Ughhhh fuckkk yessss love, that’s ittt!! Love when ya fuckin squirt on me like that, such a messy little slut fr’ me,” he groans loudly, fucking up into your pussy even harder by slamming your hips down with his other hand as you swivel your hips in circles. His tip rubs up into that spongy spot that makes intense pleasure shoot down from your head to your toes and inadvertently makes you squelch out even more jets of your essence as he keeps giving you powerfully sharp thrusts.

At this point—you’re long gone, you’ve ascended to heavens beyond this reality as choso continues to guide you through another soaking orgasm. Your breathing is unsteady, and you feel your head start to get dizzy over his persistent thrusts and his gentle rubs on your pulsating cunt. You’re shaking and shivering, whining and crying for him to ‘ease up’, to let you take a breather from all this pleasure.

Thankfully, choso is known to be a generous man that would do anything for his beloved. You feel him slow his thrusts down to a slower pace, lifting his upper body up to kiss your as he trails a hand to the nape of your neck. He holds your waist steady with his other hand and rubs it gently up and down your side, effectively grounding yourself back to him from almost losing consciousness.

But this time, choso had…other plans.

Once he feels you relax around his cock, he starts gyrating his hips up against yours again. A whimper escapes your lips as you try to squirm away from him. He chuckles, planting both his hands firmly on your waist and pushes you further down onto his cock. Your eyes shoot open and your back arches at just how deep his cock is reaching you, it felt like he was trying to fuck up into your cervix—the pleasure just too much for your poor pussy to handle.

And suddenly, he lifts your hips up and completely moves you off of his cock. The abrupt removal of his cock from your warmth makes you whimper from the lack of contact, feeling completely empty.

“Don’t look so sad baby, you’ll love this part,” he says, a tinge of playfulness laced in his words as he positions himself to lay flat on the bed. Before you can even question his intent, he picks you back up by your hips and places you smack down on his chest—princess pussy on perfect display for him.

In this position, choso can have as much fun as he wanted without having to overstimulate himself or overwork your body—to an extent, that is.

Your protests fall on deaf ears as he pushes you closer up to his face, and from the way he looks at you it makes you fall silent from sheer submission. He’s completely fixated on you, a vicious darkness clouded his eyes, daring you to question his authority in this very moment—right as he’s about to have his fill of you.

“Don’t try and run now, love. Come and ride my fuckin’ face,”

✧༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻✧

a/n: ahhhh I hope you guys liked this one!! I’m not really too sure how I did on this haha, I’d love to know what y’all think!! I also tried to format my blog a bit so now it should be easier to access some of my other works! 🥰

Likes, comments, follows, reblogs, and any other form of interaction is greatly appreciated <3 #supportcreators

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yuquinzel · 3 months

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from this list of prompts!

“here comes the airplane!” “i can feed myself.” “too bad.”

“what... are you trying to do?” sae shoots you the look of a raised eyebrow and lips twisted in confusion, eyeing the spoonful of porridge in your hand and the mischievous smile he’s come to adore.

currently he sits on his bed, tucked in all the fluffliest and warmest blankets you could find in his apartment. which weren’t a lot, so he’s also wrapped in his own hoodies. you even made a comment about him looking like deflated baymax — he had glared at you, you laughed even more.

sae doesn’t get sick a lot, and when he does, he’d most likely brush it off as normal cold that would go away on its own or whatever, which is also the reason behind his bad habit of never telling you about the times he is sick.

although you find out anyway, and sae guesses it’s because his manager is working double ways. well, he doesn’t really mind it either. because each time it leads to our current situation — which, although he never has and never will admit — is something he always looks forward to. and if he's being honest, he wouldn’t mind getting sick on purpose for the very reason.

“isn’t it obvious? I’m trying to handfeed you.” you say, in a manner of declaring an obvious fact.

“no, don’t do that.” he deadpans. ( he’s hiding his smile. )

“here comes the airplane!” you ignore him, slowly bringing the spoonful towards him.

“i can feed myself.” although he makes no visible effort to back away, he scrunches his nose. his eye travel to the porridge, then to you and back to the spoonful. he sighs.

“too bad,” you say, and sae isn’t given much choice but to oblige, “i’m gonna do it anyway.”

of course you will.

he rolls his eyes, you peer down at him expectantly, “well??”

“...well what?” his cheeks are puffed out like a hamster. but you would never say that out loud and risk your chances of seeing him like this again. you have to bite back a laugh. although you can’t resist the smile tugging at your lips.

“is it any good?” your smile grows.

“it’s... porridge. is it ever good?” he says dryly.

“yeah, but I’m handfeeding you! doesn’t being taken care of this way by the love of your life sway your heart?” you gasp dramatically, and sae lets out a weak chuckle.

“meh,” he laughs at the way your face drops from grinning like an excited child to that of a serious middle aged man. ( :D to :| )

“fine. then, enjoy it yourself.” you try to hand him the bowl, but he holds down your hands instead.

sae looks at you with a precise gaze, keeping yours on him. it’s serious and unwavering, although to a stark contrast to his cheeks and mouth. both sweetly pouted like that of a child’s. then he parts his lips, slightly so, mirroring your expectant expression from before.

“you’re really going to leave the love of your life by himself when he’s sick?” his eyes shine. a playful chuckle leaves his lips when you roll your eyes.

it’s the side effects of the medicines you’ve been forcing him to take. that must be it. but for now, sae can’t bring himself to give half a damn.

“well, i thought the love of my life didn’t need me to take care of him.” your thumb traces the corner of his mouth, sae bites it playfully. he kisses it just seconds later when you frown.

“i’m actually so sick i could die right now.” he laughs. side effects of the medicines, really.

you roll your eyes at him, bringing the spoonful to him again. “how’s the porridge now?”

“it’s meh,” he says again, ignoring the self assured smirk you wear, “but i’ll work with it.”

“i thought you could feed yourself?” you bring another spoonful to his lips, and he obliges instantly this time.

“i am the love of your life. it’s the least you could do.”

you bite back a laugh at that, sae is a little more unguarded than usual when he’s sick. it’s cute.

“baby”

“yes?”

“baby as in you’re a baby. it’s derogatory.”

it’s his turn to roll his eyes, “yeah, yeah.” he parts his lips once again.

@luvether saw ur answer on my alt bae here u go I’m dumping my bllk drafts just for u :3

@kyoghurts daddy’s home

#❀˖° ─ hana writes.#haha 🧍‍♀️#posting this w/o an explanation after disappearing for more than half a year #itoshi sae i hate you (affectionate)#itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #sae drabble #sae x reader fluff #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x you #blue lock x reader #blue locl x you #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #bllk x you

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luvvyouforever · 1 month

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exclusively yours - sdv harvey x reader!

-> synopsis: harvey realizes some things about himself and one of those is that he can't stand it when other people look at what's his.

-> warning: NSFW MDNI MDNI MDNI SMUT! jealous harvey mhm. a touch of dom harvey what can i say. slight shane slander nothing too mean. a bit wordy. you've been warned.

-> a/n: i hope you all enjoy! i wrote this whenever i had time free over the course of a week when i should be doing homework.

there's a rare fire in his eyes that night at the stardrop saloon. he's not sure what it is that he's feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he knows for certain that he doesn't like the way shane's eyes rake over your flower dance dress that you had been wearing since this morning when you danced with the doctor, and not shane.

he's reminding himself of the ring on your finger, the farm that you live in together, the bouquets you've gifted him, the necklace that took ages to procure because the weather had to be just right. and yet, none of that is easing the jealousy threatening to bubble up over the surface.

the lust in shane's gaze becomes even more apparent as the crowd dwindles. he's talking to you and harvey can barely make out the words coming out of his mouth, but then there's a touch to your elbow that was well-timed to come after a joke you just made, and now harvey is striding over, wrapping a tight arm around your shoulders to stare at shane.

"what was so funny?" he asks and the interested inflection in his tone is entirely fake. "i know my wife has such a keen sense of humor, doesn't she?" you don't miss the emphasis he puts on 'wife.'

shane's grown awkward now, and he shifts hsi weight from one foot to the next. he's been caught and there's nothing much he can do to salvage this situation. "yeah, uh, she just made a joke about summer. nothing serious. sorry," he stumbles out.

"mhm, yeah. so, we'll see you around?" harvey says which effectively ends the conversation and forces shane back into the booth he was originally sitting down in. with a breath of relaxation, he turns to you with a different kind of fire in his eyes. one that makes you shiver with palpable excitement. "ready to go home?"

you nod and his hand moves from your shoulder down to the small of your back to give you just a slight push away from prying eyes and out the door of the saloon.

neither of you speak on the way home and it feels like even the nature around you is holding its breath in anticipation of what will happen when the door to your farmhouse swings open. the farmhouse becomes visible in the distance and there's a sudden weakness in your legs. subconciously, both you and harvey pick up speed until you find yourself speed-walking to the front door.

he wastes no time in pulling keys from his pocket and unlocking the door and, ever the gentleman, letting you go in first.

once he shuts the door behind him, his hand immediately finds the small of your back again and you feel your body inch closer to the bedroom. anticipation grows and grows until your back is leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom and harvey's stature is looming over yours.

this is new, this is unexplored, this is uncharted territory. harvey had never once been anything other than unadulterated sweetness in the bedroom. he cared about your pleasure, your comfort, and your enjoyment more than anything. but now there was something calling to him to give into this urge building in the pit of his stomach.

harvey's hand crawls from its position by his side, up the curves of your stomach, then stops at the base of your head. a soft gesture tilts your chin upwards so you're looking directly into his brown eyes. you feel small underneath his intense gaze, but it's certainly not a bad feeling.

"you know," he begins with a breath, "i've never considered myself a jealous person." you bite your lip in anticipation, feeling warmth grow from your core and radiate outwards. "but...the way shane was looking at you tonight...i think we just need a small reminder about who you belong with."

there was so much intensity behind his words despite them coming out in a soft drawl. you could have buckled right there on the doorframe but his body was caging you in so that there was no way you'd fall.

with a breath and a swallow, your hand travels from your side to his waist. "then remind me," you tease.

harvey's eyes darken and something about this excited you to no end. his strong hands bring you close to his chest and his lips hurriedly meet yours. they intertwine in a mess, teeth clashing, tongues bumping, but it sets your entire body alight. with ease, harvey inches you away from the doorframe and to the bed where you fall down onto the soft mattress. the white dress on your body falls around your waist, revealing the underwear you had on.

then, harvey growled. like truly, really growled as if something had took over him in these few seconds. he had been suppressing this urge to be with you intensely for fear of hurting you or embarrassing himself. but he's spurred on by your moans and the heat he feels radiating from between your legs.

after making out so roughly that your lips are left feeling numb, harvey's hands travel down your body, stopping at the hem of your underwear. with a strong tug, he pulls you to the edge of the bed and sits on his knees in front of you. he'd regret placing so much pressure on his aging knees in the morning, but that didn't matter now. what mattered now was making you cum to the point that you are unable to think of another man but him.

without much warning, harvey's mouth met your core. you threw your head back to the bed, letting out a moan that made you glad you lived so far from any other person. he was like a man possessed, seeking some salvation in the wetness growing and growing in between your legs.

he pulled away, but not for long as his fingers gripped the hem of your underwear and slid them down your thighs, calfs, and off your feet. for a second, he sat on his knees, marveling at your pleasure and whispered, "you must really like this, huh?"

his voice was laced with lust and darkness. before you could even respond, his mouth met your middle again and every part of your body lurched forward, in awe of the pleasure he was giving you. there was a coil in the pit of your stomach that was growing, wounding around itself, tightening with every stroke of harvey's tongue against you.

"harv! fuck!" you managed to choke out. you could feel his lips tilt upward in a smile, and just when you thought there was no possible way it could get better than this, his finger teased at your hole before plunging in. harvey's anatomical knowledge guided his finger upward, curling up to the spot that sends you reeling.

his name was a prayer on your lips as that coil tightened till the point you think it might snap. you could no longer hold it when harvey added in a second finger, curling both upwards and creating a pressure that pulled the coil till it all fell apart. you were a mess, hair sprawled on the comforter, dress halfway up your body, wetness dripping from harvey's fingers.

he leans back on his knees, eyes blown wide with lust. his lips glisten and his carefully groomed hair and mustache are destroyed. he's breathing heavily, but he didn't stop his frenzy there. with rushed movements, he tugs off his tie, his button down, his undershirt till there was nothing adorning his body.

"need this off," he mumbles, pulling at the hem of your dress. you come out of your daze to rise up and slide the dress off your body. "jesus...," he whispers. he rises from his spot on the floor and gestures for you to scoot up to the bed. slowly, his body comes over yours and once again you become caged in his grip and his scent. "do i tell you that you're beautiful enough? because if i don't i need some sense slapped into me."

heat floods in your cheeks at his words. harvey, ever the kind gentleman, was a whole other person entirely. for a second, you wonder if you could tease more possessiveness out of him. he was already delirious with pleasure. what could a little more hurt?

"i'm glad you think so too, dr. harvey. shane really thinks i'm the best looking person in this whole town," you say with a smirk tilting your lips upward.

that fire reignites in his eyes again. in seconds, his hands come to your wrists and you feel pinned against the bed. his chest is rising and falling with intensity.

"if i hear another man's name on your lips tonight, you're getting it," he threatens.

and, because you can, you push him further. "shane. alex. sam. sebastian. lew-"

in a renewed sense of dominance, harvey clamps his hand over your mouth, effectively cutting you off. "i don't think you'll be able to talk when i'm done with you," he says, voice just slightly above a whisper.

"prove it," you whisper back.

harvey smiles with something sinister lurking beneath the service. he stands from the bed, eyes never leaving yours and tugs off his belt, then his pants. with no flourish, his length comes out, irresistibly hard from the night's activities. he climbs back on top of you, settling his center in front of yours. he's barely touching your core but it's sending you arching upwards.

"i don't think shane could manage making you feel this good, you know?" he teases your entrance. "i mean, if you'd like to try, go ahead, but you'll come back to me crying because he can't make you cum like this." slowly, he slides himself in. you let out an unearthly moan that is met with his own grunts. "you're all mine. no one else's." he fully enters you then, hitting as far back as he could manage.

he drags himself out, then slowly enters back in. it's torturous. horrible. so awfully frustrating.

"please, harv. more!" you beg. he kept up his slow pace, barely budging. "need you more." you sound just as pathetic as you feel.

"can shane make you feel this good?" he asks.

so that's what he wanted from you. "no!" you plead.

"are you all mine, then?"

"yes, all yours!"

"exclusively mine?"

"exclusively yours!"

at those final words, harvey fucks into you again with a quicker, rougher pace. this was what you needed more than air. your hands fly to his arms where your nails dig into the skin there. he would wake up with marks that remind him of the night, but maybe that was your purpose in doing so.

harvey is stretching you out in the most perfect of ways and the closeness of his body to yours sends shivers all over you. his hands are desperately clinging to every part of your exposed skin and his chest rises quickly in attempts to catch his breath. nothing could stop him from his actions right now. all he can focus on is the way you feel so tight around him, the way you're moaning his name, and the way he has to hold in his orgasm until you've came all over him.

which isn't too far away. it's building with every deep, powerful thrust he makes. he's hitting spots inside of you that he hadn't before. it's blissful, filthy, and perfect. in the middle of your ecstacy, you make a note to draw out harvey's jealous side more.

"fuck," he grunts out. it's so strange to hear such filthy language coming from your husband who balked any time you said swear words. "you're so fucking tight for me, huh?"

his dirty words pull out a loud moan from you which seemed to spur harvey on even further. his thrusts lost their rhythm and his breath became rapid. he was close and so were you. with urgent moves, you wrap your legs around his waist which sends his length inside of you as deep as it can go. your eyes meet with a silent agreement.

your moans mingle together, filling the room with lewd noises. your name is repeated over and over again until the moment you both feel that release toppling over the edge, filling your bodies head to toe with pure bliss. his body doesn't still, but instead he returns to the slow pace he began with, pumping his cum deep inside you.

after some breaths and stilled movements, he pulls out with a slick noise and falls to your side. his arms open up in a silent request for you to lay on his chest and you oblige. the bed is destroyed, your bodies are sweaty, and there's certainly something leaking out of you onto the sheets. but sheets can be washed, beds can be made, and showers can be had.

all that matters is that you were exclusively his, and shane could never make you feel like that.

#stardew valley x reader #harvey one shot #stardew valley #stardew valley fanfic #harvey #harvey x reader #harvey imagine #sdv harvey #sdv harvey smut #stardew valley smut #harvey smut

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hees-mine · 19 days

Text

𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 - 𝐋. 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏𝟓 (𝐞𝐧𝐝)

Pairing: heeseung ⚥ reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, angst, fluff, crying, age gap, taboo relationship.

Genre: 18+, best friends dad, smut, single dad, minors do not interact!

WC: 3,099k+

⟱⟱⟱

When the early morning came, you were stirred awake by the feeling of heeseung’s palm lightly stroking your side as he placed a few soft pecks on your cheek. “Morning, hee,” you whisper groggily, your eyes still closed with your back facing him.

You scoot into him so he can cover you in his warmth, and he snuggles up to you, pressing his naked chest flush against your back. “Morning, my princess,” he giggles, and you can feel the soft rumble in his chest, making you smile. “Sorry to wake you. Didn’t want you to wake up to an empty bed.”

You hum, acknowledging him. “What time is it?”

“5:06, so I need to leave soon,” he mumbles against your neck, tickling you.

You groan in disapproval, but you know there’s no way he can stay. That being said, you don’t say anything, nor do you make any moves to bid him goodbye because you don’t want him to leave.

“I’ll miss you.” he kissed the back of your neck, his toes playing with yours under the sheer white sheets. “Everything you said to me last night, is that all still true?”

“Of course, hee, you know I never stopped loving you.” You placed your hand over his, which was still resting on your waist.

“Me too, love. Just thought maybe you’d come to your senses the morning after,” he jokes, but you don’t really find it to be amusing.

“Hee…” you squeezed his hand for reassurance. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s hard not to when you fuck up the way I did. I’m surprised you even want to see me, let alone talk to me and make love to me.” his voice drops even lower than it already was, and it made your chest ache the way he was beating himself up. It’s not like he intentionally hurt you.

“You didn’t mess up. Everything you said last night was true, right?” You reversed his question on him.

“Yes, mam, so true,” he hums.

“Then I’d be a fool not to want to see you, talk to you, and make love to you.” You smile and scoot even closer to him, your lower parts pressing together, leaving no space for the other not to say either of you wanted space.

A long sigh escaped his lips as he held you tighter. “Thank you for forgiving me, y/n, and taking me back.”

“Thank you for explaining yourself and keeping our promise,” you whispered.

“Of course, baby, you know I couldn’t just let you go like that” he kisses the shell of your ear as he rolls his hips into you testing to make sure he wasn’t getting the wrong signal from you and he knew he wasn’t as soon as he heard you moan quietly and grind your ass up against his crotch. “Really, princess?” He teases you. “You need me this early in the morning?” He whispers in your ear, licking the shell of it while he bucks his hips, matching your rhythm with a soft groan.

“Hee,” you whine, already feeling yourself becoming wet just from his touch. “I need you all the time.”

“Fuck princess, so do I, every fucking second,” he says and closes his eyes, not even trying to hide the effect you had on him while he succumbed to the pleasure, his warm shaft thick and pulsing on the soft flesh of your backside. “We gotta be quick, though, okay?”

You nod as soon as the words leave his lips, and you don’t care how quick you two have to be. You just need him inside of you right now.

You could feel his precum sticking to your ass as he humped his cock against you repeatedly, his hot breath on your ear getting heavier with every motion.

He moved his hand from your waist long enough to grip the base of his length and push the head of his cock in you.

“Hmm,” your opening clenched around his shaft, and he slowly pulled out just to push in again, entering you with much more ease, the stretch fueling your each and every desire for him.

Your hot, wet walls guide him in inch by inch until he bottoms out and reaches your cervix.

He reached around you, his hand gripping your breast while he started out slow to feel every dip, curve, and ridge of your pussy; your silky walls squeezed him in all the right places to have him biting on his lip to stop himself from making too much noise. “You always feel so fucking good” he circled your nipple rolling it between his fingers. “I’m so obsessed with you.”

You arched your back at his words. With the new angle, you could feel him pushing even deeper than before, and your toes curled at the sensation of his cock pumping your dripping wet hole.

You placed your hand on the back of his neck, your fingers gripping his soft hair. “Heeseung,” you moan, not as quietly as you would have liked, and he is quick to do something about it.

He took his palm off your right breast and held his thumb in front of your lips. “Suck on it,” he whispered in your ear, and you complied immediately, sucking on his thumb the way you would his cock.

“Atta princess,” he quickens the pace of his hips as beads of sweat form on your bodies. “Fuck, I’m so lucky to have you,” he says out of breath already. “I fucking love you so much.”

You want to say it back, and he knows it, but the harsh clenching of your walls tells him all he needs to know as his hips meet flush against your ass, and he fills you to the brim with his thick cock over and over.

You can only moan around his thumb, softly swirling your tongue around his digit as you soak his shaft with your creamy wetness, losing your mind to the pleasure.

He pressed his face against your neck, licking and kissing beneath your earlobe as he started to twitch inside you uncontrollably. “I’m really close,” he whimpers softly, his kisses turning wet sloppy, and desperate the longer he strokes deep inside your warm cunt. “Keep quiet, pretty,” he says before withdrawing his thumb from your mouth, his hand traveling between your quivering legs to play with your clit.

“Oh god, yes heeseung, yes right there, don’t stop,” you say as best as you can, keeping your sounds to a minimum as the heat builds in your lower stomach, and all that’s left is to patiently wait for that inevitable pressure to release throughout your body and disperse into the most intense euphoric sensation you’ve ever felt. “Kiss me.” You turn to him as best as you can, your eyes locking on every last beautiful feature of his face.

His eyes were lidded with arousal, the strands of his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, and his lips were parted as shallow breaths came out, making him the most attractive sight you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

You pulled his head closer by the nape of his neck, your lips messily locking in the first kiss of the morning.

He groaned into your mouth, his tongue immediately swirling with yours as you exchanged saliva and soft moans of pleasure. “C-cumming,” you mumbled into the kiss, your orgasm hitting you hard as your walls spasmed around his veiny pulsating length, and you both weren’t just connected physically but mentally as well as he let himself go, following your lead into bliss.

“Me too.” his words get lost in the messy, heated kiss as you both struggle for air, never parting for even a second until your orgasms fade and you’re filled with every last drop of his love for you.

Heavy breathing fills your bedroom as you stare into each other's eyes, and out of nowhere, you both smile and break out into a fit of giggles as he holds you close. “I love you too,” you tell him since you didn’t get to earlier.

“God, you make me so happy.” he smiles and squeezes your figure, and as much as he was enjoying himself, sadly, this moment would have to come to an end. “I don’t wanna leave you,” he whines jokingly, but you can see his eyes are a little watery.

“Don’t worry,” you whisper, looking back at him. “I’ll text you all day today, and I’ll call you tonight, and maybe if you’re up to it, you can sneak over again.” You smile shyly as he grins at you.

“Okay, princess, sounds like a plan.” he kissed your lips softly and gently pulled out of you. He checked the time again, and you both lay down a little bit longer. “Seven more minutes”

After the few minutes were up, he peeled himself off you with a lot of protest from your end. “I’m not leaving just yet, princess. I'm just gonna grab some tissue to clean you up with.” You shyly hid under the sheets, and he winked at you, going to the bathroom and grabbing some wet wipes off your counter.

He removed the sheets slowly from your body and began wiping your intimate area. The soft look in his eyes while doing it made you melt, and you couldn’t believe you got so lucky to be with someone like him, and the aftercare was a big plus.

He discards the used wipes in the bin next to your bed, and all you can do is smile at him, not even noticing him rummaging through your drawers until he is handing you a pair of underwear and a shirt. “Here, baby put those on.” You do as he says while he dresses himself as well.

Once you both finish, he covers your body with a comforter, tossing the dirty sheet to the side and kissing your forehead before he gets ready to leave. “Love you, my princess. You promise you’ll text me?” He says with a pout, getting all cute on you out of nowhere.

“Promise, hee,” he smiles, leaning down to peck your lips one last time.

“Bye, love. I’ll be waiting for your text.”

“Okay, bye,” you whisper, and the last thing you see is his bright smile before your door closes.

You sigh sadly, but you know he has to go before your parents wake up. Luckily for him, he was able to sneak out of the house quietly, but he was gonna have to get used to this cause he’d definitely be coming over quite often to see you.

It was 3:05 when you received a notification on your phone. You were chilling in your bedroom, texting back and forth with heeseung like you promised, and when you heard the chime, your phone made you smile, reaching for the device.

You tapped the power button expecting to see a text from him, but your heart dropped to your stomach when your best friend's name flashed across the screen.

You immediately dropped the phone, and a loud gasp left your lips.

The absolute last thing you were expecting was a text from her, and your mind went to the worst places possible.

Did she find out?

How does she know?

What is she texting for?

“We need to talk”

You opened the message, reading the text over and over again, your heart racing in your chest rapidly.

You grip your phone tightly, your thumbs shaking with nerves as you type a reply.

“Sure, what time?” You try to respond as casually as possible.

She replies immediately.

“Now”

You’re so scared you leave the text on read and rummage through your closet, throwing on anything that’s suitable for going out.

You rush downstairs, your mom calling after you, and you say a quick bye before slipping into your shoes and rushing out the door.

Your mind was riddled with the worst thoughts possible, and your legs couldn’t move fast enough to arrive at your ex-best friend's house.

When you finally did, you knocked on the door, balancing on the balls of your feet until the door swung open, revealing your best friend.

Before you can even greet her, she shuts the door after you take a few steps in. “I know,” is all she says, and your world feels like it’s coming to an end.

That means she knew you were still going behind her back and lying to her, plus heeseung was doing the same. You felt terrible.

But you could only imagine it felt much worse for her to be lied to by her father and her best friend. It was the most heart-wrenching betrayal, and you played a big part in it.

You were shaking with nerves, eyes starting to water with tears. “I’m sorry”

You apologize through a sob. You weren’t sorry for being with her dad cause you loved that man with everything, but you were sorry for doing it all behind her back.

The silence is loud as she chews on her lip in thought.

You tried to step forward and hug her, but she moved back, and you felt your knees grow weak. “Please forgive me. I’m so sorry,” you cried, now, wet tears dripping down your cheeks cause you missed her so much.

It takes about another minute of silence before she finally responds. “You’re really sorry?” She asked, looking you dead in the eye.

“So sorry,” you reply hoarsely, wiping your tears with the cuff of your hoodie, only for more to take their place.

“And you love my father?” Her tone is one of questioning, but her voice is calm as if she had already thought long and hard about this before asking to talk with you.

“More than anything in the world,” you whisper quietly.

“Then okay,” she says and smiles afterward, which shocks you completely.

“O-okay? What do you mean, okay?” You reply, confused, your eyebrows furrowed, and you're not so patiently waiting for an explanation.

“Then you two have my approval.” She nodded to herself. Now that the words were coming out, her heart felt lighter, and she knew this was the right thing to do, even if she was a bit uncomfortable with it.

Just as you’re about to respond, Heeseung comes through the door from his shift. “Sweetpea, I’m ho-“ he stops dead in his tracks when he turns around and sees the both of you in his living room.

His face goes pale as he looks between you two. The same thoughts that were running through your head earlier are now running through his, and he tries to do his best to de-escalate the situation once he sees that you have tears in your eyes. “Sweetpea, it’s not what you thi-“

His daughter cuts his words, repeating the same thing she told you. “I know everything, Dad.”

His shoulders slump, and his head drops with disappointment. “I’m sorry,” he mutters with his head down. “I really am. I tried so hard to make things right, but I just couldn’t see a way to do that without going behind your back. You’re the most important girls in my life, and I just wanted you both to be happy after all this time. After the divorce, I wanted to be happy too, but all I did was complicate things, and y/n, I’m sorry for everything.”

He stared at the ground, his fingers fiddling with the seam of his suit pants.

It went silent again, but after he felt his daughter wrapping her arms around him, he forgot everything else, dropping his suitcase and immediately hugged her back in the tightest embrace he could muster.

“I know, Dad. I’m sorry, too. I know I was selfish, but I was just hurt, and I felt betrayed because you both hid things from me. But seeing you so down for years after the divorce, I realized that I just wanted you to be happy, even if it was with my best friend,” she sobs onto his shoulder.

“Oh sweetpea, I won’t ever hide anything from you ever again. I wanted to tell you, but I just didn’t know how.” A tear ran down his cheek as he rubbed her back to comfort his baby.

You watched the two of them talking through everything that had transpired over the past few months, and for once, you didn’t have to hide the love in your eyes for your best friend's father.

The scene before you was so wholesome you’re just happy that they were able to work through things despite what happened in the past.

He kissed her on her forehead as they separated from the hug. “Promise?” She stuck out her pinky, ready to swear on it.

Heeseung smiled proudly at his daughter, so grown but still just his little baby at heart. “Promise.” he looked over to you, and your smile made his heart feel at ease, and he could see a whole future with you in your eyes. “Come here.” He beckoned you closer.

His daughter stepped back, giving you space to reunite with each other. “I love you,” you whispered in his ear as you engulfed him.

“Love you, my princess,” he pecked you on the lips.

“Eww, not in front of me, not yet, at least.” Your best friend looks at you both with a disgusted look, but behind it, you could tell she was trying to stop herself from smiling.

“Hey! Group hug,” heeseung cheered as you three formed a circle and hugged each other.

“Okay, that’s enough.” his daughter pulls away first, and he ruffles her hair, getting a glare in return.

“There she is, back to herself self,” heeseung laughed as his daughter walked upstairs.

“No kissing in front of me, no flirting, and y/n, you’re my best friend, not my mom, so don’t even try it.” With that, you hear her door close and then turn to look at heeseung as you both release a relieved sigh.

“So…” he breathes out, his smile growing wider the more the reality sets in.

“Sooooooo?” You chuckle and wrap your arms around him.

“I’m so happy,” he grins and closes his eyes, pressing his lips to yours softly. “I love you.”

You held each other in the middle of the living room, the same spot where you both fell in love. It was definitely a bumpy ride, but you’d do it all again if it had this same outcome.

You hum against his lips. “I love you too.” You confess your love to him, and that definitely won’t be the last time.

here it is, I hope yall are happy. 😒

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback.

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#heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung #enhypen #heeseung #lee heeseung #lee heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours

448 notes · View notes

pedgito · 2 years

Text

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 pt. i ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: something that is desired all the more because it is not allowed—you find yourself torn between the idea that even though eddie is in a position of authority as your professor, he’s still what you crave the most.

cw: 18+ (minors, dni) teacher/student relationship, age gap (21 & 29), corruption!kink (eddie is well aware of what he’s doing), background ronance, max is readers bestfriend, eddie likes to wear his hair up for class and hates being formal, bratty!reader (sorta), angsty touches, a smutty cliffhanger, ect & lots more to come (pun intended)

word count: 11.6k - part two, part three, part four

The campus was huge and crowded and everything you hated all wrapped into one—but you couldn’t beat the view, the pleasant Indians weather, and all the amazing classes the college had to offer. And normally, first days would be terrifying, crippling your anxiety, but there was nothing but excitement; for now, at least.

Most of your morning was spent combing through syllabuses and trying to find your classes, which is mostly your own fault, deciding on a major so vastly different from your main course work—by the time afternoon rolls around, you’re forced to walk clear across campus, nearly ten minutes late to your class and faced with a surprisingly unirritated gentleman, who’s three seconds away from shutting the door closed indefinitely.

The man steals a glance at his watch, arm twitching slightly to force his sleeve back. His eyes glance up to you for a moment and back down, “Not a great way to start off your first day,” He comments cooly, face void of any emotion, “is this gonna be a habit?”

“No—god, no,” You respond, slightly out of breath, hand clutching the strap of your book bag, “I’m just getting used to where everything’s at—I didn’t get a chance to visit the campus earlier, I have no idea where anything is or—“

“It’s fine,” He assures, beckoning you into the classroom, surprisingly full, forcing you to the front row, positioned almost directly in front of his desk—this was the beginning of your nightmare, “let’s just be mindful of time, yeah?”

Not that Eddie has ever been punctual a day in his life. But, he’s learned that being a hard-ass is more effective than not giving a shit at all, especially when it comes to his students.

“Yeah—yes, I promise.” You swear, forcing a thin smile before making an immediate line for your desk, hoping that the further you sink, the more unnoticed you’ll be. Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case.

The loud slide of the chalk against the chalkboard as he writes his name across the green slab is defeating, most of the class watching in fearful silence—like there was some impending doom about to descend upon them.

“Uh, sir—“ You can see him visibly tense at the word, “are we going to be learning how to play any instruments in this class?” The voice comes from a boy who seems naturally quiet and more reserved, mortified by the fact that he even found the courage to raise his hand and ask a question.

There’s a small roar of laughter from the others, but you look along stoically, watching his face upturn slightly.

“Don’t call me, sir—please,” He laughs lightly, “it makes me feel old.”

“Professor Munson,” He corrects himself, “sorry.”

“You’re fine,” He assures, “and look—this isn’t an intro to music, it’s intro to musical therapy. We’re not just studying instruments and music, we’re also studying behaviors, the mind, how all of this stuff connects and affects people’s thought process and aiding certain struggles they may have.”

His way of talking is animated and refreshing, a stark change from the usual monotone professors you’ve run into all morning.

“So, if you’re just expecting to learn how to play the piano or something, this class probably isn’t for you,” He explains, eyeing down about a quarter of the class that makes a collective groan, “hey—I’m just being honest.”

And you knew you wouldn’t see half of those people in a week, jumping at the first chance to transfer, but you couldn’t help being intrigued. It wasn’t necessarily your first choice for a major, but it took you by surprise; your love for psychology and mind studies mixed with your love of music, it seemed like the perfect storm. Plus, your professor wasn’t the worst person in the world—yet.

He easily snaps open the cuff links to his sleeves, rolling them halfway up his arm, revealing a rather striking depiction of bats, swarming around the expanse of his forearm.

He definitely seemed like a tattoo guy, but it was still odd to see so openly—his feet tap together as he takes a seat on the end of his desk, scanning the room. You can’t help but notice his lopsided tie, wanting so desperately to fix it—it was bound to drive you nuts.

“It’s probably best to get most of your question out of the way today,” He says, “so, shoot them at me while you have the opportunity.”

A few hands fly up, he points off to your right, a couple rows behind you.

“So—are you a therapist?”

He snorts a soft laugh, shaking his head, “No—I don’t have all the proper certifications, but I assist therapist a lot when they’re looking into doing stuff related to musical therapy. I know enough to get by.”

The smile he flashes leads you to believe that he’s trying to be humble.

“Do you play any instruments?” Another student asks freely, the heads of the rest of the class snapping in their direction.

“A few,” He answers, hand waving about in a noncommittal manner, “mostly just guitar.”

He adjusts his tie again, even more lopsided now and you can’t help but stare it down, focused on nothing but the black, shiny material of it—Eddie clears his throat softly, catching your attention.

He’s staring right at you, caught red-handed—quick, think of something—

“Who do you usually work with?” You ask suddenly, “In your line of work, I mean.”

Outside of being a professor, obviously.

Another laugh, more subdued. “Veterans, mostly, and a lot of children.”

Eddie claps his hands together very suddenly, startling most of the class, including yourself. “Anyways, let’s go over the syllabus so there’s no confusion—I don’t need you guys bugging me outside of my office hours, as much as I love to teach.”

You sense another jab coming, but it doesn’t.

The syllabus review is a breeze, setting you up for what most of the semester entails, including when he was available—again, making it very clear that he wasn’t available outside of office hours.

And then he’s adjusting the damn tie again, almost like it’s wringing his neck to death. By the time class ends, he dismisses everyone with a simple wave, a few students lingering around their desks, debating on whether they should drop the class or not.

The voice that trails from the front of the classroom as you take a step down catches your attention, pulling your head up to look at the culprit. “Staying or dropping?” He asks.

Professor Munson. It felt weird and unnatural as it rolled around in your mind, still not falling from your tongue.

“Staying,” You answer surely, “I knew what this class was before I signed up—I’m not about playing roulette with taking a college class.”

“Fair enough.” He’s leaning against his desk again, hands shoved into his slack pockets, shiny, gold watch resting on his wrist, and you can’t take it anymore, the frustration boiling from your chest

“Your tie,” You say abruptly, pointing at the material, “It’s crooked.”

Really fucking crooked.

He takes a glance down, finger slipping in the space between his tie and neck, pulling at the offense piece of clothing, loosening it until it’s snapping away.

He balls up the tie and tosses it behind me, landing messily on his desk. “I never wear those after the first day—hate them. They’re so stupid.”

“Or, you just don’t know how to tie a tie.” You point on, mouth speaking before your brain can catch up—realizing much too late that this was your professor, not a friend.

Eddie scoffs mockingly, “And I’m sure you do.” He counters, watching your face drop slightly.

You did, actually—but that wasn’t the point.

“No one ever taught me.” He tells you, “So I’m wingin’ it.”

You nod thoughtfully, surprised at how quickly you managed to embarrass yourself. “Oh.” You say simply, it’s all you can manage.

You save yourself for further humiliation by offering a wave of goodbye, breaking the uncomfortable tension that had grown between you both, excusing yourself immediately.

And if that was horrible enough, your night would be even worse.

☆.｡.:*

“The Hideout?” You ask curiously, twisting the flyer in your hand, “That place is still open?

Max snatches the paper from your hand, shoving it into the pocket of her jacket, protecting her from the biting cold of wind—the beginnings of Hawkins autumn weather creeping up on you.

It didn’t help that you were barely covered from the waist down, skirt leaving little to imagine as the slit ran high up your thigh, thankfully the long sleeve top you wore was enough to save your upper extremities.

“Nancy and Robin swear by that place—plus, they’ll be pissed if you don’t go.” Max explains in her usual ‘could care less’ tone.

The only reason she was going was because of Lucas—a boy she’d met during her first class that day, who she also invited out, despite barely knowing. You couldn’t blame her, though. Max could handle herself well enough, that was for sure.

The drive is long, further out of town than you expect—hidden on some rundown road on an empty corner, bare except for the small bar, yet the place was packed with cars.

“Okay, maybe this place isn’t as rundown as I remember,” You take note of, “or everyone really wanted to get drunk tonight.”

Either way, you were definitely heading toward the latter option, following closely after Max. It doesn’t take long for Max to be pulled away though, quickly distracted by the only reason she came here, abandoning you.

“Have fun,” You remind her, “seriously.”

You could take care of yourself, settling up at one of the empty tables before the stage, perched on the uncomfortably tall seat, ordering yourself a quick drink as a server passes you.

“Hey!” A perked up voice yells out from behind you, arms wrapping around in a gentle hug—no one had the nerve besides Robin, who quickly caught you in a fuller hug as you turned to face her. “How have you been? Where’s Max?”

“She’s busy,” You laugh, giving her a pointed look, which she catches on quickly. “Where’s Nance?”

“Right here,” Her delicate voice peaks out from behind Robin, watching as her hand sneaks into Nancy’s, squeezing firmly.

You smile to yourself, but Robin sees it, shoving you an annoyed look.

At least those two finally figured it out—almost ten years later.

“So, you two know who’s playing tonight?” You ask curiously, sipping on the beer that the server passes to you on their way through the crowd.

“Yeah, he’s an old friend—we haven’t seen him in a while, though.” They both frown at the mention of it, sharing a quiet glance. “We should’ve invited Steve, Nance.”

“He never wants to leave the house, you know that.” Nancy adds, “His kids keep him busy enough.”

And it seemed like Steve got the life he always wanted, for the most part—but it’s still somber to think about, wishing just as badly that you could’ve seen him once more.

“Maybe next time.” You offer, and both of them smile.

“I’ll have to remind him to invite you to his littlest’s party in a couple months,” Nancy says, “he misses you.”

The feedback startled all of you, pulling you from the conversation and toward the stage, light dimly over the center. The lights around the bar dimmed in contrast, adjusting everyone toward the men gathering in their places on stage.

You squinted carefully, watching the guitarist adjust the microphone, pulling it up to his height. His hair was long, unruly, and obscuring his face as he leaned forward, speaking into the microphone.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” He asks with a decent amount of enthusiasm, receiving a hearty applause in return. “We’re Corroded Coffin.”

The name blanks in your mind, not ringing any immediate bells.

It was definitely a crowd full of fans—or family, at least. They excitement was palpable, everyone leaning on the edge of their seats.

“This is our first show in a couple years, so go easy on us.” He laughs, head flicking up to move the hair out of his face—again, he spots you almost instantly.

The intake of breath is involuntarily, getting caught in your throat. The blush that creeps up your cheeks is hot and burning, noticeable from a mile away.

Eddie fucking Munson, your college professor—of all the chances and fate in the world this is how your night was going to go?

Eddie clears his throat, immediately averting his gaze. “We’re just doing cover songs tonight—so if you’ve got a request, send it through Gareth.” He instructs, jerking his head over his shoulder.

And despite how mortifying this all feels, Eddie plays his heart out; you’ve never seen anything like it. He’s a person who expresses himself through his body and his music, clearly—thrashing wildly and putting every movement he can into his playing, bouncing on his feet. He can’t be bothered to stay still, which is a complete difference from his classroom demeanor.

From what you’ve seen, at least.

“You good?” Robin asks, nothing the ghostly look on your face.

“Yeahyeah, uh—“ You reply distantly, “The lead looked familiar, but I think it’s a coincidence.”

One hell of a fucking coincidence.

“Eddie?” They both ask simultaneously, “There’s no way.”

Eddie Munson. Again, your professor—but also, a friend of a friend, and a complete fucking stranger otherwise. You must’ve pissed someone off well enough down the line to end up in this position; the biggest dose of karma you’ve ever felt.

“Like I said—it’s probably a coincidence.” You assure them, eyes still locked on him.

“Yeah—I don’t think we started hanging out with him until after you moved schools.” Nancy supplies, further attempting to assure you.

Eddie catches another glance at you and you can’t help but down the bottle of beer in one go, immediately leaving your seat to ask for another, leaving your friends to congregate at the table.

The song ends abruptly, falling off of a long guitar solo, and you can’t even dare to look in that direction, faced shoved into the drink you gripped in your hand.

“Come here, come here,” You hear Robin call from behind you, but you know it’s not for you, another rumbling voice slipping through the many others, a weak protest, “Stop being like that.”

There really was no arguing with Robin and Eddie was smart to keep quiet, following her obediently to the bar. The hand that clasps your shoulder is light and gentle and Nancy shoots you an apologetic look as you look behind you.

“Ringin’ any bells now?” Robin asks playfully, holding her hand up under his face, like he was on display. Eddie makes a face, side eyeing her affectionately.

“No, sorry,” You lie easily, shrugging him off. Eddie seems to relax at that, half-expecting you to out both him and yourself—not that there was anything wrong, it was just another freaky coincidence, “What’s his name again?”

And really, it’s just to poke fun, the slight buzz creeping into your system.

“Eddie Munson,” Nancy replies, glancing between the both of you, “Edward, if that helps.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at that, hand held up in desperation as he called out for a drink over your shoulder, reaching around you to grab the bottle. You visibly tense at the proximity and he notices, still, he doesn’t try to move away.

This was too weird.

“Nope, still nothing.” You tell them, sticking to your story.

Robin shrugs, “Well, I should probably explain—Nancy used to babysit her when she was younger, her and Max and all those crazy little kids that we always told you about—“

It made you wince; babysitter, Nancy, kids. It was the worst sequence of words that could’ve been spoken in history, to your professor, in the middle of a bar, that he was also playing at.

“Robin,” You warn, “I’m sure he doesn’t care.”

“Nah,” Eddie shrugs, leaned beside you against the bar, metal chain clinking against the counter-top, lifting the beer to his lips leisurely, “It’s nice to meet you.”

And the smile seems forced, but his voice is steady, easy—you almost believe him.

But, then Nancy and Robin are pulled off in a different direction, catching up with another small group of friends and Eddie is staring at you.

And not secretly—very, very openly.

“I swear I didn’t—“ You start.

“I don’t usually,” He interrupts.

You both take a hard stop, looking each other down.

“You first,” He instructs, bring the drink to his lips once more, “then I’ll go.”

“I swear I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight,” You explain, “otherwise I would’ve skipped out.”

He wants to ask why, but the answer seems obvious—no one wants to see their teacher outside of school.

“I don’t usually make a habit of letting my students see me like this.” He motions to his get-up, hair loose and clothes even looser, aside from the obviously homemade jacket he wore, patches hand stitched and worn at the seams, but the weirdest part of it all—the ripped jeans. It felt out of place for someone nearing their thirties. He catches your gaze, the judgement evident. “My point exactly.”

“So, that’s why you don’t know how to tie a tie.” You challenge, taking a long sip of beer, eyebrow quirked in amusement as you swallow, cheeks puffed out by the liquid.

He scoffs softly, amused at your comeback. “We shouldn’t even be talking right now, you know that?” He points out, yet he hasn’t moved an inch, still close enough that if you decided to separate your thighs, he’d fit perfectly.

You hum quietly, “Yet, you’re still here.” Another beer down, another slipped into your hand like clockwork, throwing it back easily. “So, who’s fault is that?”

Him being the responsible adult and all, not that it really mattered here. This would be a level playing field outside of any other circumstance.

“Wait—can I ask a personal question?” And maybe it was the alcohol talking.

“No—“ He answers quickly, but your brain bypasses it.

“How old are you?” You ask curiously, “You look too young to be a professor.”

Eddie looks stunned, affected by your forwardness, but he takes it in stride. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment—I’m twenty nine, a couple years older than Nancy and Robin.”

You don’t press on the additional information, but nod thoughtfully, taking another quick sip of your beer.

“Sorry—it was bugging me. I have a bad problem with filtering my thoughts.” You admit sheepishly, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, fiddling with the flimsy zipper on your skirt.

“Clearly,” Eddie laughs, bringing the bottle to his lips slowly, stopping just as his lips pressed the rim, “Are you even old enough to be drinking?”

“Are you going to kick me out if I’m not?” You challenge playfully, Eddie doesn’t bite, looking you down accusingly.

It was as if he suddenly shifted back into teacher mode, judging your choices and feeling the need to scold you.

“I’m twenty one,” You tell him, “don’t have a fucking stroke over it.”

You don’t know why Eddie’s eyes shift, scanning full body, like he’s trying to take all of you in—both of your contrasting styles outside of school are a welcomed surprise; he doesn’t really expect it from you. But, you could say the same for him.

“Wasn’t gonna,” He assures you, nursing the beer near his mouth, forearms leaned against the bar now as he looks toward you, eyes catching the way your fingers fiddled with the label on the bottle, “you cold?”

Your leg crosses over the other, goosebumps riddling your skin—it’s like he’s a mind reader, the entrance door of the bar swinging open, a cold blast of air spreading throughout. “Not really.” You lie, gripping the end of your skirt to shift it down.

You could’ve been more practical, shown up in jeans and some worn out band shirt, but you wanted to look nice—feel cute and dressed up for once, was that a crime?

“Hey, there you are,” Max calls from behind you, scattering toward you with a wide-eyed Lucas in tow, “so you met Eddie?”

You turn in your seat, staring the fiery redhead down, a smile plastered on her freckle covered face.

“You too?” You ask incredulously, glancing toward Eddie, who seemed rather unfazed by it all now. “What the hell?”

“He used to live across from me, back in high school,” Max explains, which makes sense.

You moved after middle school, leaving most of Hawkins in your rear view, aside from the occasional letters to Max—both of you swore that despite the distance, college was your nonnegotiable; both of you applied, both of you got accepted, it was some sort of divine miracle, but neither of you questioned it.

“Small world,” Eddie shrugs from beside you, finishing off the last sip of his beer, “you staying out of trouble, Red?”

“Probably not,” She replies honestly, before turning to you sheepishly, “—do you think Robin will give you a ride home?”

“Max,” You groan, her look switching from hesitant to pleading, “fine—whatever, I’ll talk to Robin.”

“I love you,” She says endearingly, wrapping you into a quick forceful hug, nearly knocking you from your chair, “I owe you one.”

“Uh huh,” You reply sarcastically, waving her away, “See you tomorrow.”

When you turn, Eddie is slapping a fresh bill on the counter-top, returning his chained wallet back to his pocket.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you Monday.”

Saying it makes it even weirder.

“I won’t tell anyone.” You assure him, seeing the way his eyes catch yours, almost thankful. He doesn’t have to say it—he didn’t take you for the type to brag, but still, it’s a comforting confession. “I promise.”

The last part feels like too much, but Eddie smiles regardless, adjusting his jacket over his shoulders, preparing for the crisp, cold air that awaits him.

Robin, find Robin. Your brain scrambled, searching around for your friend—or Nancy, but neither of them are anywhere inside of the bar.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

“Everything okay?” Eddie asks softly, pulling the hair caught under the lapel of his jacket.

“I think they left,” You frown slightly, preparing yourself to walk several blocks until the nearest bus station, feet already sore and achy from the uncomfortable heels you wore, “Robin and Nance.”

And Eddie has the internal battle with himself for at least half a minute, weighing the odds of how uncomfortable this could be, or how creepy it may come off, but he wasn’t going to leave you high and dry—he wasn’t raised that way.

“Where am I taking you?” He asks suddenly, swinging his keys into his palm.

“Huh?” There was no way you were taking a ride from your teacher, of all people. “—I’m fine, really. I just need to walk far enough to the bus stop.”

“In those?” Eddie asks pointedly, staring down at the heels that hugged your feet like a vice grip, already sore from only a couple hours of use. “It’s not a big deal—are you going back to campus?”

You nod hesitantly.

Eddie motions toward the door and you follow obediently—your feet could thank you later. You knew there was no harm in a ride home, either, Eddie was far from the normal sketchy men around Hawkins, but it didn’t feel right. It felt like keeping a secret from your parents and doing something that had persistently told you not to, or how often the school system looked down on relations with staff outside of school, no matter the level or severity. It seemed that Eddie was hoping you’d keep this to yourself—he was counting on it.

☆.｡.:*

“Did you enjoy the music at least?” Eddie asks halfway through the drive, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other fishes for his pack of cigarettes; a bad habit he’d yet to break.

“I mean—they were cover songs,” You shrugged, “Metallica is alright, but I prefer Bon Jovi and Quiet Riot—“

“Are you shitting on Metallica, right now?” Eddie asks, shocked by the admission. He manages to wiggle a cigarette out with one hand, tossing the box toward the middle console, “Do you mind?”

Part of you wants to say yes, just to be difficult, but you shake your head. He flicks his lighter opening, lighting the end of the cigarette until it burns a bright amber, ashes falling from the tip.

“You dress like you’re stuck in the eighties, dude.” Eddie seems offended by the comment, but takes it in stride.

“Says the lady who still listens to Bon Jovi.” Eddie sharks, pulling the cigarette from his lips, smoke billowing from his nose as he breathes, “

You hate how nice it is to watch, his soft lips pursing into a tight line. One more hit at him and he’d probably fail you out of spite, but you do it anyway.

“Says the guy still singing eighties cover songs.” Eddie winces at the jab, flicking away the ash from the cigarette, held out in the air as he searches for his retort.

“So you hated it?” Is all his brain can muster at a time like this, brain hazy from the amount of beers he consumed—you could say the same for yourself, the alcohol buzz is still ever apparent—you wouldn’t have ended up in a situation like this while stone cold sober, that’s for sure.

“No,” You reply honestly. The music was good, the performance was even better, but still—it seemed he was searching for your approval, like it would make all the difference, “but it’s the mid nineties, you need to get with the times.”

Eddie scoffs offensively, a few more puffs before he’s rubbing the cigarette to its untimely demise, pulling into the quiet campus.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” He says, coming to a stop, “—I hope this is close enough, the last thing I need is someone catching me dropping you off.”

Then he shouldn’t have offered a ride, which was his first mistake of many.

It’s offensive how handsome he looks under the dim lights radiating from the inside of his van—an odd choice for a teacher of his salary, but it still makes sense, somehow.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sir.” You retort, throwing the last bit in for fun—he tenses again, visibly. He doesn’t correct you, though, which is even more difficult to understand.

He offers a simple wave, friendly and polite, then he’s gone and halfway across the campus before you can even process what happened.

It also doesn’t help that the first thing you see in your dreams that night is his face—ungodly in the way he worshiped your body, from head to toe; it was definitely the alcohol talking.

☆.｡.:*

Monday drags more than you expect, having nursed your hangover during the weekend, it felt like an aftershock was trying to overtake you, your focus lacking. It wasn’t unlike you.

You replay the conversation with Eddie in your head a few times that weekend, realizing that even through your drunken haze, Eddie was not attempting to be teacherly toward you—he was friendly, a natural conversationalist, it felt wrong.

It felt even worse when you fell asleep, his head stuck between your thighs as you dreamed that night, “She’s so pretty,” His voice is faded, muffled—like he’s stuck in a tunnel and too far away, “fucking soaking wet, too.”

And it feels too real as he licks a broad stripe up your cunt, moaning obscenely as his face is coated in your wetness, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit—it’s too much for you to process.

“Good afternoon,” Eddie’s voice carries through the door to his classroom, satchel and coffee in hand, looking just as worse for wear. His hair is tied back in a loose bun, no tie today, and his slacks look like they’re been worn for a week straight, wrinkles and all, “nice to see the class has downsized.”

It has, nearly half of the original class is gone—which really, it was better for you. You couldn’t focus in large classes and it felt less personal, more disconnected than you liked.

Eddie tries desperately to keep his energy up during the duration of the lesson, but he’s lacking on all fronts—maybe he had a rough weekend?

When he hands out the first assignment near the end of class, he stops by your desk, leaning on the railing to speak to the entirety of the class, “And don’t freak out—this is just a basis to see where you heads are at in terms of what music you like, how it makes you feel, it’s just a soft introduction into some of the stuff we’ll be covering over the semester.”

It’s a list of various songs, bands, genres—a mix of things dating back to the early fifties, up until more recently. “Go out, rent some of this if you’ve never heard of it, and write what you feel—that’s it. Easy enough?”

Eddie doesn’t acknowledge you most of the class, which is expected, but disappointing. He seems preoccupied, distracted, clearly bothered by something. But, it wasn’t your problem—the only focus you had now was your course work, which was the first thing you started on that night; a very giddy Max rummaging through your dorm room as background noise, so disorganized it could drive you insane.

“He drove you here?” She asks.

“Yes—but you can’t say anything, Max. I’m serious.”

You didn’t have anything to worry about, you knew that.

“I didn’t even know he taught here—or that he was even a professor. I mean, I know he finally graduated but—“

“Finally?” You ask curiously, swiveling in your chair to face her fully, interest fully piqued.

“He had a rough time in high school—he didn’t graduate until he was twenty, I think.” She explains, busy hands now stopped in their tracks. “He’s been through a lot.”

Your eyebrows raise in question, hoping Max would spill everything she knew—you couldn’t help but be curious about him, even if he was your professor.

“He probably doesn’t even know I go here,” She laughs slightly, “His mom and dad were never in the picture, though—at least I never saw them, it’s always been him and his uncle. He hung out with Nancy, Steve, and Robin a lot—closer to when he was graduating, they’ve stayed good friends, I guess.”

You nod slowly, absorbing the information.

“Is he mean?” Max asks randomly and you almost laugh, “My professors are the worst.”

“He’s fine,” You shrug, “It’s kinda nice that he’s not such a dick, you know?”

“What does he teach again?”

“Musical therapy?” You respond, wondering if that would surface any other tidbits of information.

“Oh—that kinda makes sense. He was always listening to music, then he just disappeared after graduation, but his uncle always talked about how he was helping people, doing something he really liked—I just never bothered him about it.”

There’s a long silence before Max can’t help herself, perching herself on the surface closest to you, pens scrambling to the floor as she takes a seat on the edge of your shared desk.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“The weather,” You say flatly, not receiving any type of reaction from her, “—-just music, that’s it.”

“But, babe, you love music.” Max reminds, like it wasn’t painfully obvious.

“And—he’s my professor, it’s fucking weird.” You explain, but even Max doesn’t believe you. “What—why are you looking at me like that?”

“You two are so similar,” She laughs, “It’s freaky.”

“Maxine—what are you trying to imply?”

“Nothing,” She shrugs, hoping from the desk, “—remember that I’ll be your maid of honor at the wedding, though. We pinky swore.”

“He’s my professor, Max.” You stress again, Max smiles wide, annoying you further.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, right?” Max asks, realizing that you’d used the same playful jab at him the night before.

“What?” The coincidence was uncanny.

“Eddie used to tell me that whenever I tried to justify doing something I wasn’t supposed to—I’ve grown, obviously,” That’s not entirely believable, but you keep your mouth shut, “the saying stuck with me—it’s kinda fun to use.”

“Whatever—did you get the music I asked about?” You ask, impatiently switching the topic to something less scandalous.

“Everything was spoken for,” Max explains, trying to let you down gently, “I really tried—but I guess everyone in that class had the same idea on where to go, unless you want to take a trip to the store and buy them—“

And it dawns on you, Eddie must have some sort of music collection, “Wait—what time is it?”

Max takes a quick glimpse at the alarm clock on her nightstand, “A quarter past five, why?”

Still open for office hours—you prayed silently, despite your lack of religion, hoping that he was still in his classroom.

“Give me a ride.”

Max doesn’t question it, being the best friend she is.

☆.｡.:*

“I’m busy,” He says before you can even knock on the door, your loud ascending footsteps giving you away, “come back in the morning.”

You peek through the window of the door anyways, seeing a perfectly relaxed Eddie reclined at his desk, feet propped up as he jotted something down in a book, tongue poked out in focus.

“Uh Professor��Munson,” It felt foreign and weird, “I just had a question.”

His demeanor changes on a dime at the sight of you, unbusying himself completely. It’s a little hysterical, but endearing nonetheless. It makes your stomach flutter at the sight, scrambling to button his shirt higher, seem more professional, not that you hadn’t already seen him outside of work.

The door creaks open, his head popping through as you back away, “What’s going on?” He asks, surprised that anyone would dare to bother him outside of normal class hours. It doesn’t take you long to realize that he only mentioned the office hours out of courtesy, he didn’t actually expect anyone to bother him.

“I was trying to work on your assignment—“ His eyes softened, and it made you flinch, feeling exposed, “I don’t really have the money to buy any of the music and everything was already rented out—-so I wasn’t sure what to do.”

“Oh,” He wasn’t sure what to expect but he finds himself opening the door wider, welcoming you inside, “Yeah—a few students raided my shelf before class was over but I’m sure there’s some left.”

“Thanks,” You reply shyly, squeezing beside him, watching as he lingered by the door still, hands shoved into fists in his pockets, “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, sir—“

“You can call me Eddie—here, at least.” And that definitely doesn’t feel appropriate, but if he’s insisting, well…

“Sorry, it just feels…strange, I guess.” It’s not how you wanted to describe it, but it’s the only word that comes to mind. “I can’t imagine how weird it is running into your students outside of class.”

“Probably as weird as it feels running into your teacher,” He adds playfully, lightening the mood. It’s nice that he’s not so bothered by all of it, “Oh—I’ve got some Elvis in there, a lot of classic rock. I’m not sure about the newer stuff, though.”

“Max has some of it.” You comment without thinking, sifting through the box of music, picking and choosing as you went.

“Max?”

“She’s—she’s my roommate here.” You answer quietly, unable to meet his eyes as he walks closer, leisurely making his way around his desk.

“I guess I should’ve put that together,” He says, taking a moment to examine the sweater you’d shoved on, “You two share a closet?”

“Among other things.” You smile, grasping the stack of Cd's in your hand, “How did you know?”

You share a glance down at the faded sweater, reading off the name of some random skate shop back in rural Hawkins, a place you’ve never stepped foot inside of.

“I got that for Red on her sixteenth birthday, before I left.”

Eddie’s frowning now, nearly unnoticeable, but you see the way his mouth creases, eyes turned down. “It’s her favorite,” You say, in an attempt to make the mood less dark, “but I always steal it from her—she’s let me take residency over it at this point.”

“It looks nice,” Eddie says suddenly, feeling the slip up as it slides off his tongue, rambling even further as he says, “on you—I mean, it’s a nice sweater—that’s why I bought it.”

You laugh softly, bottom lip jutting out as your mouth curls into a smile. “Thanks, Eddie.”

He scratched at his temple, ringed finger shining against the light refracting from the lamp on his desk. You’ve never noticed it before—or them, since his hand was adorned with three, that you could see.

“Hey, those are cool—“ You point out, finger pressed in the direction of his upheld hand. He stops, views his hand, almost like he’s forgotten he was wearing them, “I’ve noticed them before.”

“I try not to wear them during class hours, the administration thinks it’s unprofessional.” The nature of the rings, not the fact that he wore them—if he had a wedding ring it wouldn’t matter, but the thought of marriage made Eddie want to vomit.

“Fuck ‘em.” You say crudely, shoulder shrugged In indifference.

Eddie’s mouth hangs open slightly at the sudden outburst, amusement flooding his face, “I’m still your professor—probably should keep that type of language to a minimum.”

You snort at his indication that he had any type of hold over what you do—he couldn’t be further from the point.

“Or what?” You say challengingly, “This isn’t high school—it’s not like you can give me detention or tell my parents.”

“I am the one handling your grades.” He counters, hip leaned against the edge of his desk. Your free hand travels to your waist, slipping underneath the sweater to rest against the skin.

“You don’t intimidate me—I hope you know that.” You remind him carefully, eyes narrowing in his direction. “The other’s are terrified of you, but that shit doesn’t work on me.”

And he should know better—you shouldn’t even be here and he definitely should be flirting with a student, if you could call it that. Was this flirting? Was this crossing the line? He’s studied body language for a long time, through the process of his treatment of people, and he can’t help but notice how relaxed you seem, almost enjoying the back and forth.

“You should go,” He says quickly, avoiding any further lines being blurred or crossed or misconstrued; you were his student and it was unprofessional, “my office hours are closing soon.”

“Uh huh.” You nod slowly, adjusting the stack of music under your arm, watching the way Eddie’s fingers drum against the desk impatiently, like he can’t wait to get you out of there.

If he was really that bothered, he could’ve said something.

“Thanks again, professor.” You say with grandeur, motioning to the stack of Cd's, “It’s greatly appreciated.”

Eddie tries to ignore the small sliver of skin that shows underneath your slightly raised top that was no longer obscured by your hand, almost like you’re doing it on purpose.

Which, yes, you absolutely were.

You slip by him silently, avoiding the way his eyes follow you. It felt predatorial, but not uncomfortable—and that’s what you hated about it.

He didn’t look at you as a student—he looked at you like something else; you couldn’t put your finger on it.

Eddie turns on the heels of his shoes, “I expect those back tomorrow,” He warns, but there’s no sense of actual ramifications behind it.

You don’t answer fully, a small nod that Eddie doesn’t quite notice. He grabs the sleeve of your sweater gently, his fingertips pressing against your covered arm. “I mean it.”

You look at the hand that gripped your arm for far too long, Eddie still holding on just as hard. “I know.” You appease him, “And if I don’t—you know where to find me.”

The glance to your desk is silent, but done in unison.

“Wanna let go now, sir?”

Eddie hates the way his dick twitches under the material of his corduroy slacks, releasing the bunch of material from his grip. You half-expect him to scold you for the remark, but he’s speechless, for once in his life.

“Sorry,” He apologizes, feeling like he’s made things uncomfortable, but it’s so far from that—he has no idea, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“On time, hopefully.”

It’s just another playful comment, but it has Eddie gripping his thigh from the inside of his pocket, muscles tensed in frustration.

You leave with a wordless smile that’s burned into Eddie’s mind for the rest of mankind—and it’s definitely not the first thing he thinks about when he slips his boxers down his thighs that night, cock still half-hard from earlier in the evening.

☆.｡.:*

He becomes a permanent fixture in your dreams as the weeks grow on, unbeknownst to him—not that he can say much for himself either, annoyed by the finite nerve you have to walk into his classroom, skirt pulled halfway up your waist, ass barely peeking out of the bottom of the pleated material.

He knows it’s wrong and going against all of the rules set it place for this very reason, but he can’t help himself. So, he suffers in silence—not that it was anything new to him, he’s done it his entire life; under different circumstances and situations perhaps, but the basics of it still remained.

“Fuck—spread your legs,” His voice is hushed, quiet against the skin of your leg as he sucks a deep purple mark into the skin, jerking at the touch of cold metal, the outside of his rings grazing your thighs, “wanna taste you.”

It feels too real—you toss and turn in your sleep restlessly most nights, dreaming about your professor with his hands around your thighs and his mouth buried deep into your cunt.

And with little to no interaction during class, aside from the occasional glance in your direction, he kept his distance—which wasn’t a surprise, he had no idea.

He had no idea that his student was practically pining after him. It doesn’t help that you’ve seen him outside of the classroom, dress downed and free of an inhibitions or rules; it was a special kind of torture.

It’s late October when Eddie speaks to you directly, alone—he’s got most of the class set up on various different instruments of their choosing, allowing them to feel them out and play freely, and somehow—by some fucked up fate, you get stuck with a six string and not a clue how to play.

Fake playing wasn’t working, Eddie could spot it from a mile away. You don’t chance the glance up at him, but the squeak of his shoes is enough warning, bracing for whatever remark was going to be sent your way.

“Have you ever played before?” He says instead and your eyes immediately shoot up to him, all previous restraint thrown out the window.

“No, not really.” You say truthfully, watching as Eddie pulled up a chair in front of you, facing the back of it in your direction, thigh swinging over the side—his jeans tightening with the action, along with your thighs. You really needed to get your shit together.

“Here,” His hands come out to rest over yours, adjusting your left hand over the base of the guitar, your right hand around the neck, “This is A,” He presses your finger over the cord, instructing your other hand to strum.

It’s slightly out of tune, but the guitar seems old—probably provided by the college rather than Eddie himself, “That’s good,” He praises calmly, “Now try playing an A sharp,” He guides your hand further down the neck, the warm, rough skin of his hand covering your own. He feels tough and worn and you notice the small cuts around his fingertips at this proximity, breath catching as his hand grasps around the wrist that was actively strumming the guitar, “it’s really complicated at first, there’s a lot to learn.”

“Clearly,” You say, forcing down the smile that threatened to break through, “how long have you played?”

He seems surprised that you cared or even tried to ask.

“Since I was about twelve, probably.” He answers honestly, “More than half my life.”

Eddie still hasn’t moved his hands, either—he can’t be bothered. It doesn’t look as incriminating as you thought, but still, you knew. He helps you play through a few more notes until he’s gotten you to the point of playing a small, five second tone—but it’s all you can really manage.

“It takes a while.” He assures you, not that you wanted to pick up a guitar again after this.

“Why don’t you play?” You ask sweetly, smiling flashing with nothing but devious intent, handing the guitar over toward your professor.

“Nono—I’m really not—“ He protests, setting the guitar back on its stand beside you.

“Not what? That good?” You ask curiously, he was worse at lying to himself than he was to you.

“Are we forgetting how I saw you play that night?” You ask quietly, nothing how his gaze lingered with yours, “Because if that wasn’t you then—“

He gives you a muted look of warning, wanting you to drop the topic of conversation, but you can’t be bothered. He wasn’t in charge of you, not really.

“You can play a Dio song blindfolded, I bet,” You point out, still keeping enough of a hushed town that only Eddie can hear, “Your eyes were closed that entire set.”

“It was my first time back home in a while,” He defends lamely, “It helps with the nerves.”

“I thought it was really good.”

Eddie’s eyes light up in a way you can’t ignore, bordering on shock and adoration, it’s the first real smile you’ve seen from him.

The end of class comes quicker than you want it to, forced to pack your belongings back into your bag in a rush, everyone’s already managed to file out before you can even think of zipping your bag up.

“Hey,” Eddie calls out, every other student already long gone, “here, take this.”

It’s a flyer, similar to the one Max shoved into your hands a few weeks prior.

A different bar, same band; one night only.

“I’m probably breaking a thousand rules by giving you that,” He explains carefully, “but maybe you and Max could come out and watch us play—tell her I’ll even throw in some free Kate Bush.”

Your smile is warm, folding the flyer and stuffing it into your pocket. “I told you—I’m not the type to blab, Eddie.”

You hate how easy it feels to say his name in such a setting, still dressed up in his ridiculous attempt at seeming studious and professional. You knew he hated it, he knew it too.

“I can ask her—if not, I’ll still show.” You tell him.

He was only inviting Max to be courteous, but that wasn’t up for him to decide whether or not you actually brought her along. Either way, he was appreciative. He knew that a lot of the support he received back home was mostly done out of obligation and sympathy, but with—it felt real. He didn’t know you, he didn’t have anything to prove to you, and more importantly, you were genuine and honest; he hated that you took up this class. Hated it.

“It’s not a big deal if you can’t.” He offers as an out.

There was no way you were going to miss it, not with how Eddie was looking at you now; despite the circumstance, it was so blatantly obvious to you how badly you wanted him.

“Eddie, I’ll be there.” You assure him once more.

And if the smile that spreads over his face isn’t something worth worshiping, you’d surely find something else.

☆.｡.:*

The bar is small, on the complete opposite side of town—but Max still offers to drive you, but it’s definitely not for your own benefit. She hasn’t shut up about Eddie since you’d told her the situation, the weird looks he gives you, and the horrible filthy dreams you’ve been having; sans the super embarrassing details. She gets it—it’s incredibly amusing to her, but she gets it.

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” You asks, fingers tapping nervously against the ripped denim of your jeans, frayed material pulled between your fingertips. “He did invite you.”

“Babe, I’m doing you a favor.” Max interjects, halfhearted smirk on her face.

“He’s my teacher—for the last time,” You begin, beyond desperation, the words falling from your tongue weren’t even believable to your own ears, “I’m not trying to fuck him, Max.”

“I did not say anything about fucking him,” She laughs amusingly, turning into the parking lot of the bar, “—it’s just not as weird as you’re making it out to be. I’ve known Eddie for a long time.”

“You’re really missing the point.” You say, rubbing the frustration on your face away with your hands, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

“Oh whatever, don’t tell me you suddenly have some strict moral compass,” Max replies flippantly, “you want to screw him and you know it.”

The suspense is enough of an answer. There was no lying to Max, she knew just about every deepest, darkest secret you carried.

She pulls to a stop outside the entrance, turning toward you carefully, “Also—I can’t pick you up so you’re gonna have to ask him for a ride. I love you.” She rambled it off in one breath, barely giving you time to process. “See you tomorrow?”

It’s the one fight you decide not to pick with her, because for some reason, you know it’s for your own good.

“Hey—you made it!” The familiar voice calls from behind you—Eddie, guitar case in hand, the rest of his band mates in tow. “Red.” He acknowledges, offering her a nod. “There’s parking in the back.”

“Oh—I’m not staying,” She shouts from the driver’s side, “take care of her or I’ll murder you, Munson.”

Max is pulling off before you have any last fleeting chance to run, leaving both you and Eddie at a loss for words.

“Pulled a fast one, didn’t she?” Eddie asks after a moment, gathering by your side, following you into the bar. “She’s sneaky as hell, I’ll give her that.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” You huff softly, watching your step as you crossed the threshold, hit in the face with the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap beer.

“A beaut, isn’t she?” Eddie asks sarcastically, but despite that, the bar still garnered a decent amount of attention, packed to the brim with older gentlemen—nothing like bars near campus.

“I think I found your target audience,” You joke lightly, catching the smirk that crosses Eddie’s face as you glance over your shoulder. “I’ll fit right in.”

Eddie slaps a twenty into your hand, “Here, drinks on me—since I forced you here,” You look at him reluctantly, “I don’t want to hear it.”

“I didn’t plan on drinking tonight.” You insist, forcing the bill back into his hand, “I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?” He asks, eyeing you carefully, like he’s trying to find a hint or tell, something to figure out what exactly your mind was fighting against—which right now, it was the fact that Eddie looked ridiculous with eyeliner, yet, still criminally attractive.

It’s exactly why you shouldn’t have come tonight, because whatever could happen—you weren’t sure if you had it in you to shut down.

You nod with finality. Eddie takes the money back reluctantly, stuffing it into his front pocket. He feels terrible that you have to sit there, alone—all to watch a shitty cover band play a few songs.

But to you, it was worth it.

You sit and wait, forcing away the bartender a few times until he finally gets the message, leaving you be. It’s quiet, aside from the hum of laughter and idle conversation, Eddie and his group setting up silently onstage—that impending feeling in your gut expanding further as you watch him move around, guitar strap swung over his neck, watching shamelessly as he adjusts the instrument against his body.

He catches your eyes then, sending you a cheeky smile that has you face burning on the spot—at this point, you care less about your professional relationship, if it could even be considered that.

Eddie plays with all the gusto you expect, belting out lyric after lyric on his performance high; it’s unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed. It’s hard not to compare him to his classroom demeanor, more restrained and relaxed—it was forced, that was easy to tell. But this—this was Eddie, unafraid and free to behave how he pleased, it was unfair how attractive he was, both in looks and personality. It felt like you’d know him longer than just a few weeks; months maybe? Years?

It was like hanging out with an old friend, discovering new and old things about one another; you’d spill your heart to him at a moment’s notice if he asked—and that’s why this felt so dangerous.

☆.｡.:*

“How was it?” Eddie asks as he rounds the corner, still slightly out of breath and face covered in a sheen of sweat. You hand him a napkin in silence and he laughs, but accepts the offer.

“Good,” You smile honestly, “I really enjoyed the gradual crescendo from Holy Diver into Living After Midnight—“

Eddie could kiss you on the spot, which is such a startling thought that it stops all thinking completely—you were absolutely too good to be true, it was a constant reminder every time you spoke, making him fight with this taboo feeling more and more every day.

“Do you still need a ride home?” He asks suddenly, interrupting your waterfall of compliments, “I was going to head out already.”

“Well, considering Max left me stranded,” You say with an empty bitterness, knowing that her attentions were mostly good, “yes, I do.”

Eddie nods a silent direction—and just like the first night, you follow without question.

☆.｡.:*

The foot that isn’t pressed on the gas pedal is shaking insistently, leg bouncing against the leather of Eddie’s seat, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He can hear you humming, mumbling the song on the radio to yourself, another classic—one of Eddie’s favorites, and he really can’t help himself anymore.

It was just a small, innocent indulgence. Who could it really hurt? You were both consenting, capable adults—and the worst thing you could do was turn him down, which Eddie really hoped wasn’t the case, but he was beyond caring about norms and rules, driven by the pure fact that he just wanted—wanted you, in any sense of the word.

“What are you doing?” You ask curiously, watching as Eddie searched idly through his stack of music, somehow still managing his focus on the road.

“Changing the song,” He comments simply, pushing the disc into the player—the soft synth of the song pushing through the speakers of his van, “do you know it?”

“Corey Hart, right?” You ask, taking a wild guess. You’d only heard the song once, but it was still catchy enough that it stuck around in your brain, “I didn’t picture you as the type.”

“You’d be surprised.” He comments oddly, turning the volume up slightly.

He notices the humming again, the small head bop along to the beat. “You like it.”

It’s more of a statement, rather than a question. You catch the side of his face, the small glint in his eye as he focuses back on the road.

“That's presumptuous of you,” You retort, hands twisting in your lap, “it’s alright, I guess.”

“Mind if I do a little study?” He asks hesitantly, breath catching in your throat for half a second.

“Of me?” You ask with a laugh, “I mean—if you want?”

“Your heart is racing, for one,” Eddie points out slyly, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest as the beat picked up, chorus running through the silence that filled the air, “and you’re squeezing your hands.”

“Okay, genius,” You remark, “You’ve got eyes, good for you.”

He’s not really using his degree in this situation, it’s more of an innocent observation of the already underlying tension that Eddie couldn’t help but notice—the obvious body language giving you away. The song was just a secret favorite of his, but you didn’t need to know that, not yet.

“Mind I make one?” You ask, “An observation, I mean.”

What was the harm in it anyways? Eddie nods for you to continue.

“You’ve been shaking your leg since we left.” You point out, the bouncing coming to an abrupt stop, “and I’ve never seen you do that—ever.”

“It’s the after performance buzz.” He replies cooly, but you can’t be bothered to believe it. “It’s not that unusual.”

“Eddie—you’re making that up,” You tell him, eyeing burning into the side of his face, “what’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“Yeah—why are you lying?” It’s a bold question to ask, heart fluttering in your chest. But, the way he looks at you has your legs crossing in frustration, squeezing together to relieve that ache growing between your legs.

“So, you want to pretend I didn’t notice that either?” He asks, eyeing the full expanse of your body before stopping on your legs, still firmly crossed in the seat, hands white knuckling each other under the long sleeves of your shirt. “Uncross your legs.”

“What? No.” You scoff, offended by his forwardness for a brief moment.

Eddie slips his hand under your knee wordlessly, prying your legs apart. You can’t help but look at him as if he’s lost his fucking mind—that doesn’t stop your legs from following his order. It made the ache that much worse.

“Don’t,” He warns hesitantly, the small shift in your leg giving you away, “it’s not gonna help.”

“Help what?” You reply dumbly, “I can’t cross my legs? Is that a crime?”

Eddie’s gaze lingers for far too long, noticing the flush of your chest and the way it creeps up your cheeks—they felt like they were on fire. In the midst of all the back and forth, it’s hard to keep focus on the main fact at play—teacher, student, your mind screaming, wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

“I can help.” He makes a subtle nod toward you.

It didn’t take a genius to know what he was talking about. You were very well aware of the issue. You want to weigh your options, come up with some stupid reason to wiggle out if the situation—but nothing comes to mind. The way Eddie’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel has you digging your nails into your own thigh—you’re going to cave, you can feel it.

“Eddie.” You warn, watching as his hands lingers toward the gear shift, resting against the cracked and worn down plastic covering.

“Our secret, right?” He teases, like this whole situation wasn’t built on secrecy. You nod willingly, legs spreading a few inches wider. His fingers trail the seam of your jeans, stopping on the button, popping it open with deft fingers. “Move this way—yeah, there.”

And when his fingers breach the seam of your underwear, your mind sings a soft praise of release, watching as his hand forces its way into the tight space, leaving him no other option but to cup your cunt with his full palm.

There was no turning back now.

His middle finger drags through your folds testingly, matching the slow undulating beat of the song, like this was a game to him. You have no idea how to handle your hovering hands, too afraid to touch him, so they wrap around the headrest behind your head, fingers gripped tightly together.

Your legs spread wider, giving him better access—you were rutting into his hand at the shift of position, feeling that familiar tingle of pleasure as it shot through your body, mixed with the feeling of a bite of forbidden fruit, avoiding Eddie’s heated gaze as he shifted between you and the road.

It feels reckless and stupid, but you can’t find the courage to stop.

The first dip of his finger is like heaven, feeling unfamiliar after so long, despite how often you touched yourself, you couldn’t remember the last time there had ever been anyone else but you—not since the first summer after you graduated; freshly eighteen and naive, letting a much older man have you how he wanted—it’s uncanny, the situation your in now. But this, it doesn’t feel like that.

“Fuck—“ Your voice catches, stomach clenching at the curl of his middle finger as it slipped inside of you and back out, pace so insufferably slow, “—need more.”

“There she is,” He smiles to himself, confidence oozing in his tone, “—shit, you’re such a liar.”

It takes you a minute to realize that he’s not talking to you at all—which sends you down a different wave of emotions, pussy clenching around his lone finger, gasping at the way he curls it against the soft walls of your cunt, searching desperately for something out of reach.

“How long has it been like this?” He asks curiously.

Since the moment you met him, is what you want to say.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You reply breathlessly, back arching away from the seat, cunt pressing further against his hand as he slips a second finger inside.

At the lie, Eddie stops without warning, and it gives you a headache, that slow build of pleasure deflating immediately.

“The truth,” He says, though, it’s more of a demand, “tell me.”

And fuck, if you weren’t putty in this man’s rough, calloused hands.

“Since earlier,” You reply, rewarded with the soft brush of a fingertip over your clit, you quickly unzip your jeans to allow for more room, “when I saw you onstage.”

Eddie’s groan in response tells you everything you need to hear. He slows to a stop at a red light and it’s the first real glance you share with him the entire evening, both of you seeing straight through each other, bodies overran with pleasure.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” He says, and it seems a little late for a realization like that, you can’t help but laugh, “what—you think it’s funny?”

“You’re the one with your hand down my pants, sir.” You retort, earning a disciplined squeeze as he shoves his two middle most fingers back into your cunt, molding around him like glue.

“Sorry—I know you hate that word,” You say playfully, “But do you mind if I use it? Or, do you prefer professor?”

It was your turn to play into the guilt he was feeling, though it didn’t seem to be concerning if he still had his hands shoved down your pants so willingly.

“Shut up,” He forces out, swerving slightly at the way you cunt clenched around his fingers, insides fluttering as he curves his fingers wildly, grazing that sweet spot deep inside of you, “don’t call me that.”

His hands were larger than yours, making up for all the work you missed out on.

“Too far?” You ask teasingly, knowing that was the least of your worries; all moral lines crossed, blurred, forgotten about entirely. Eddie’s fingers pull back to graze over the sensitive nub, rubbing in small, leisurely circles, “Fuck that—that feels—“

Your moan is so unashamed that it surprises you, hips bucking up into his hands as you nearly leapt out of the seat.

Eddie can’t take the suffering much longer, pulling off onto the winding side road, tucked into a nest of trees. He unbuckles his seatbelt, allowing fuller access as he turns toward you, switching his hands with practiced ease—you couldn’t even open your eyes, face drawn up in pleasure. You knew the moment you looked at him you were done for.

“Look at me,” His voice echoes alongside the melodic tune of the song, his fingers matching the catchy beat—the damn music aficionado he was, toying with you, fingers strumming against your swollen clit like the strings of his guitar, “—I said, look at me.”

Your body works for you, eyes opening on instinct—his voice was rough, authoritative, leaving no room for argument.

“Good girl—It’s what you wanted, right?” He asks with a semblance of a smirk on his face, “It’s why you came tonight?”

You laugh weakly at his words, double entendre, unable to go unnoticed, “As far as I’m concerned, no one’s came tonight.”

His eyes darken, shifting toward your cunt, covered by your clothes, his wrist poking out above the thin material of your underwear.

“You can stop—stop acting like this is my fault,” You hiccup, gasping as he applies heavy pressure to your clit, rubbing steadily, hating how shameful it feels as your cunt clenches around nothing, wishing his fingers were still buried inside you. “Please—fuck, I just—“

All self restraint forgotten, you hand searches for his face, finding its way into his curls, pulling gently at the root, the softest hint of a grunt falling from his lips—the first noticeable sign all evening that he was even slightly affected by this—by you.

And maybe you’ve gone too far, the idea of touching him is where things go wrong, but you can’t be bothered to hold yourself together anymore.

“It’s okay,” He assures you, leaning over the middle console, hand working quickly against your cunt, moaning loudly into the confines of the car, ashamed at how wrecked you sound, “I like it.”

He must’ve noticed your expression, lingering on his face—you could do anything and he’d fall to his knees.

“It hurts—“ You plead, begging for release, “—please?”

It sounds too pretty coming from you, deciding that putting you out of your misery was easier than watching you suffer, on the verge of a mind-blowing orgasm, Eddie’s hands feeling so much better than your own, or anyone that’s touched you before.

Your mouth hangs open on a wordless gasp, eyes squeezing shut at the force at which your high hits you, his fingers gently coaxing you through the descending pulse of your orgasm, near the point of over stimulation.

“Okayokay—“ You ramble, fingers wrapping around the length of his wrist as you pulled him away, heart skipping in your chest at the sight of his fingers flexing against your stomach as he pulls away, fingers covered in your wetness as a result of what just happened.

Your head rests against the back of the seat, chest heaving rapidly as you try to catch your breath. “Not that I’m complaining—“ Eddie’s voice pulls you out of your hypnosis, “but you might wanna let go.”

“Shit—I’m sorry,” You apologize softly, letting go of his hair, looking at him sheepishly, hands returning to your lap to fix your pants.

The song had ended long ago, the gentle rumble of the engine filling the quiet like an ambiance, realization settling between you both.

Who speaks first?

He’s quiet, wiping his hands on a black handkerchief that he seemed to have pulled out of nowhere, before stuffing it into his back pocket—where it must’ve been all along.

“I’m—“

“Should I—“

The stare you hold is long and tense, brimming with even more sexual tension than before, searching for some way to cope with whatever just happened.

He glanced down at the hard bulge of his jeans, noticing the way your gaze catches. He shifts, pulling at the front of his jeans to adjust himself. “It’s fine.” He lies, not ready to allow this to go any further than it should have.

“I don’t mind,” You reply slowly, voice hesitant as you lean forward, “I want to.”

He feels himself flex at the thought, the idea of your mouth—or even your hand, wrapped around, he was ruined. But, he’s insistent.

“I need to get you back to campus, right?” He asks, though the answer is obvious. It was a grasping at straw attempt to change the subject. “Red’s probably worried about you.”

Not a fucking chance.

“Yeah—you’re right.” You answer, trying to hide dejection, wanting nothing more than to touch him, as intimately as he had you. “We should go.”

It’s like he’s turning on his classroom demeanor before your eyes—and frankly, it’s ridiculous. He’s regretting every choice he just made and you know it, watching as he flips the gear into place, back on the road with one swift twist of the steering wheel.

And it could’ve been the heat of the moment or the copious amount of drinks that Eddie had been offered that night, obscuring his rational thinking—but he didn’t reek of alcohol, not a single drop on his breath. So, if anything, it was regret, obvious and plastered over his entire face.

But to Eddie, it's shame.

Shame at the idea of breaking so many rules, risking his job at the hands of some young women—who he couldn’t help but be lured by, entranced at how much of an enigma you were. He couldn’t describe it, couldn’t even put it into words.

And even after he drops you off that night, he comes in his hand, against the soft expanse of his stomach, the image of your face in his mind as you come apart by the work of his own hand.

He knew there was no going back, allowing himself to fully succumb to the idea that if you were willing to let him have you like that, you’d let him do just about anything.

It was exactly what you wanted.

author's note: and an extra special thank you to @hellfirehoe for dealing with my nonstop horny thoughts about this and helping me proofread.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #my writing #1kfic #5kfic

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bg-brainrot · 2 months

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More than Vampiric Charms (Astarion x Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: After some banter between Astarion and Jaheira goes too far, you (Tav) take some time to remind Astarion that he is so much more than a pair of fangs.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Comfort, Vampire Spawn Astarion, set in Act 3, Astarion is Bad at Feelings, Blood, Blood Drunk, blood as a coping mechanism

A/N: Thank you to everyone who voted for this banter in my last poll! This was a fun one c:

Word count: ~3.2k

Walking through the streets of Baldur's Gate is always an adventure with your group– a particularly fraught adventure on this day, as Jaheira and Astarion seem hellsbent on trading barbs.

It had started out playfully enough, with a snide remark from Astarion, "Oh that building used to be a delightful little sweets shop about a hundred years ago. Though I suppose the crone would remember that, wouldn’t she?”

Jaheira, used to remarks about her age, often being the one to start them, was ready with a quick quip back, “Was that before or after your hair turned gray? With my old age, I can never remember.”

Astarion visibility bit back a remark about this being his natural hair color when you glared back at both of them. “Could we focus a bit please? You two can reminisce after we’ve seen to this latest bloody basement.”

One trail of blood, a disgusting array of corpses, and a piece of clown later and the two of them were at it again.

“Jaheira,” Astarion had started in a light tone– a clear indicator that he had no intent to focus. “Have you considered taking on the role of Dribbles the clown yourself? The makeup might help cover all those pesky wrinkles.”

The druid had snickered, appreciating the comment, and shot back, “I think you would be better suited to the role, given you are already a fool.”

That time, Karlach had interrupted, “Don’t either of you dare! No one could replace this Baldurian hero.”

“Which is exactly why we’re helping to piece him back together,” you’d confirmed with a nod. “Besides, you’re both cranky enough to make the children weep.”

“Darling!” Astarion had gasped, an offended hand on his chest. “How could you say that about me?”

You’d ignored his question, instead choosing to deposit a quick kiss on his pursed lips. A soft, effective bandaid that left the man with crossed arms and a reluctant smile.

Moments later, you were ushering the group out of the building and into the city. Insults forgotten, everyone began trudging the familiar path back to the Elfsong to clean up.

Now, along this very path, you hear Jaheira strike up a new conversation with Astarion– one that has your ears perking up, even as you continue to lead the way ahead.

“It seems that you and our leader are closer than ever,” the woman observes, a smile in her voice.

There’s a moment of silence, and you can practically see Astarion’s suspicious expression in your mind’s eye as he assesses the situation. “Yes, you could say that,” he finally replies. “What can I say? I am, after all, quite charming.”

“I am glad it is your non-vampiric charms our friend has fallen for, Astarion.” A short, thoughtful pause follows before she asks, “It is, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Astarion responds, his voice reaching a comically high pitch– one that almost makes you laugh. You want to hear this conversation more than most though, so not a sound escapes your lips. The vampire scoffs before he continues. "Is it so unbelievable that they would simply like me?"

There’s a clear hesitation as Astarion’s words hang in the air.

You wonder why Jaheira isn’t responding, what her expression must be– but before you can turn around to find out more, Astarion is speaking again.

“If you insist on prying,” he starts, clearing his throat a bit pointedly. “Perhaps you’d care to join us. And see how much we enjoy one another.”

The insinuation in his tone is almost enough to have you spinning around– teasing Karlach or Shadowheart is one thing, but Jaheira? Gods, you can feel the heat rising up your neck– “Why?” Jaheira snaps back. “Do you require some instruction on how the deed is done?”

“I’m sure even I could learn some new tricks from an old veteran such as yourself,” Astarion replies, mirth shining through in his tone.

Wait, is he actually inviting her?

You know you need to stop this conversation before it mortifies you any further. “Stop it, both of you!” you say, turning your head back, trying your best to keep a stern, not-at-all embarrassed expression on your face. “We don’t need the next installment of ‘Love at First Knife’ getting any more convoluted.”

There’s some grumbling from Astarion, an amused smile from Jaheira, and a chortle from Karlach, but otherwise your group makes it back to the Elfsong without tearing each other– or their clothes– apart.

That evening, Astarion slips away.

It’s not an unusual occurrence– some days his hunger is harder to ignore than others, on some you hadn’t found nearly enough evil to suck dry. Ultimately, he never wanted to take too much blood from you, so he chooses to forage as he has taken to calling it.

As a result, you think nothing of it at first, settling into bed after dinner with a book propped between your hands. After all, Cazador is dead, and Astarion is more than capable of taking down some of the most fearsome enemies in the city– he should take all the time he needs to himself.

But the hours pass, and Astarion has yet to return. The candles around you begin to dwindle, words begin to swim on a page you haven’t turned in quite some time, and sleep slowly but surely starts to drag your eyelids down.

It has almost claimed you when the door to your shared room at the Elfsong slams shut. You hear groans from around the room as those who were similarly drifting off to bed are shocked awake, everyone expecting yet another unwelcome visitor. You almost don’t have time to react before an armor-clad vampire lands atop of you.

You do react though, instinctively striking at the man with the spine of your book, a loud ‘thwack’ letting you know that your contact was true.

“Oof,” Astarion mutters, now fully splayed across your torso like a stretching cat. “Darling, must you be so violent?”

“Astarion?” you ask, putting down your book, shaking off the beginning throes of sleep as you realize what’s transpired. “Weapons down everyone, it’s Astarion.”

After a few affirmative grumbles from around the room, you turn your attention back to the vampire, “Are you alright? Did you get injured?”

“Mmm,” he murmurs, burying his face in your blanket, and rubbing at the spot where you’d hit him. “Nothing's the matter. Everything is perfectly dandy.”

His words slur though and something seems to be amiss. His movements are fluid, his body weight is completely and utterly relaxed onto you.

Almost as if…

“Are you… drunk?” you haven’t seen him like this since the bear he drank near the grove. When you’d asked him the question then, he’d shrugged it off– but it was certainly the closest to drunk you’d ever seen him.

“Not strictly speaking, no…” he drolls, tilting his head slightly to stare at you with one eye. His cheeks are flushed, a telltale sign of his recent feeding, and his eye is glazed over, its blissful sheen telling you all that you need to know.

“Have a good dinner, did you?” you ask, smiling down at him wearily. You can hardly fault him for indulging, especially after the couple of weeks you’ve had.

He chuckles, his one visible eye crinkling a bit. “Oh yes. A rather large bugbear. Hardly knew what bit him.”

You run a hand through Astarion’s hair, and respond, “Well done, my sweet, bloodthirsty vampire.”

Normally, such sweet words of unabashed flattery would elicit a smile, a laugh, maybe even a kiss– but tonight Astarion freezes under your touch, his eye going wide before he tucks his face back into the bedding.

“Astarion?” you ask, your previous worry about injury now promptly replaced by a worry of a much deeper hurt.

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, voice sounding distant.

You scratch at his scalp, a bit, trying to encourage him back toward you. “Love, you know you’re a terrible liar. What’s wrong?”

He gives a soft, annoyed huff– an endearing, drunken noise were it not for the fact that he seems determined not to look at you. And continue to crush you with the full weight of his body.

“Astarion,” you say again, with a bit more emphasis, shaking his head a little with your next scratch. “If nothing is truly wrong, I will wake up Karlach. You know she would love to see you in this state.” As if to punctuate your point, a snore sounds from a few beds over, where you know the barbarian slumbers.

“Please don’t,” he murmurs, finally turning around to look at you fully.

You’re surprised to see his eyebrows furrowed, his lips turned down in a truly melancholy frown– always an expressive man, it seems that Astarion’s intoxicated demeanor is twice as exaggerated. Cute, you think. But also concerning. “Love,” you whisper, running a hand along his face. “Talk to me.”

Astarion hesitates, his watery eyes wincing as he debates his next words. Those same red eyes show an unexpected amount of vulnerability– all that bugbear blood is keeping his expression open, his entire face a rosy hue. His mouth opens, closes, his body shifts, and he fumbles with the latches on his armor as he thinks. You simply lay there, playing with his curls until he’s ready.

When he finally speaks, his words take you by surprise.

“You don’t just like me because I’m a vampire… do you?”

“What?” you ask, eyebrows raising in disbelief. Surely, you misheard him.

“You know,” he continues, waving a hand about the air. “My vampiric charms. The fangs. The blood sucking. The mysterious allure?”

“Why in the nine hells would you think that?” You reach a hand out to grab his, tugging on it gently to try to get him to sit up.

Astarion’s eyes drift away from you, but he does sit up, legs draping over your stomach. “Just… because of something Jaheira said.”

Oh. The conversation you’d been eavesdropping on.

“Do you mean what she said earlier? On our way back to the Elfsong?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Well, yes,” he mutters, still not looking at you. “Though I can’t help but notice you haven’t answered my question…”

“Astarion,” you start, releasing his hand, only to place it on the slightly flushed skin of his cheek. “No, I do not only like you because you’re a vampire.” Your words are firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

His eyes meet yours again, and still you can see so much doubt, so much unmitigated fear. “Are you certain? You truly do seem to enjoy it when I bite you.”

“Well, that’s true,” you admit with a small wince. It does feel rather… good when he bites you, it would be a lie to say otherwise and, besides, you’ve told him as much before. “But that’s not why I like you, you fool.”

Astarion’s bottom lip slips into a small pout and he moves away from your hand. “You’re not very convincing, you know? Especially when you call me a fool.”

You scooch out a bit from under him, leaving your legs under his. With all of the severity in the world, you reply, “If it makes you feel better, I’m a fool too.”

“You are?” he asks, curious despite himself– easily falling for your little trap.

“A fool for you.”

The noise that escapes him is half groan, half chuckle, and his mouth pulls into a lopsided little smile that you’re not certain you would have earned were he not a bit blooddrunk. “Gods, how the hells did I fall for you?”

“Now you’re asking the right questions,” you respond with a smirk on your face. When you place a hand on his knee, the smirk turns into a small smile. “But I’m being genuine– I don’t like you because you’re a vampire. And before you ask, I don’t love you because of your vampirism either.”

He gives a small huff. “Well, Jaheira made it sound as if there wasn’t much else to care for.” An uncharacteristic admittance from him– normally he would brush off such a statement with a proud declaration of how phenomenal he is. But it seems that Jaheira’s words cut deep– and that blood has loosened his lips.

“Jaheira, despite all of her many, many years of experience–” you enjoy the full laugh that elicits. “simply doesn’t have my refined taste. There are so many reasons to like you, love. In fact, vampirism doesn’t even make the list.”

“Oh, you’re keeping track, are you?” he asks, folding his arms and body over his legs and smiling up at you.

“Maybe,” you murmur, leaning forward toward him. “Would you like a sampling of reasons?”

The look he gives you then is hopeful, but more than a little dread slips through in his shining red eyes. When he answers, his voice is barely above a whisper. “Only if you mean them.”

This withdrawn, unsure Astarion isn’t a common sight to you, but, like every other facet of the man before you, he’s no less lovable. So you lean forward, placing a kiss on his pale forehead, and say, “I mean them with my whole heart.”

“Then… I suppose I ought to be lavished with them," he murmurs, and you spot the blush intensifying over his cheeks, now also coloring his ears.

Coupled with his fluid, inebriated state, his heart laid bare before you, you want to scream the reasons from the roof of the Elfsong, if only for him to believe you. But, as it is, the soft snores of your companions keep your voice hushed, your face close to his as you begin.

“Let’s see… should I start with the first thing that stood out to me?”

He hums in agreement, and closes his eyes, as if preparing to listen to the sweetest tune known to the entirety of Faerun.

“Well, it started with your first lie, I think,” you start.

Astarion gives a disapproving groan, but doesn’t open his eyes.

“My dear, you said you said you had a ‘brain thing’ cornered– I hope you know the smile on my face wasn’t from confidence,” you say with a new, fond smile at the memory. “I just knew from that moment on, you didn’t much care for what others thought of you, as long as your goals were met. A kindred spirit. Or so you said that day.”

At that, he reopens his eyes. “That’s not true.”

“We’re not kindred spirits?” you ask, an unexpected tinge of hurt blooming in your chest.

“That’s true,” he says, balming the hurt quickly. “It’s not true that I don’t care what others think of me. I do. Well, maybe not everyone.” His eyes dart toward Gale’s bed and you stifle a snicker. “But I certainly care what you think of me.”

You look into his crimson eyes, a bit clearer now than when you began talking– the blood seems to be working its way through his system. His words come from a place of honesty, not a lack of inhibition.

“Then, let me assure you here and now,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. “I think–” Another quick peck on his lips. “you’re the funniest–” A kiss to his nose. “the most deft–” A brush of lips against his temple. “creative, endearing, brave–” Each word comes with a kiss along his jaw. “man I’ve ever met.”

Astarion’s eyes look at you, his face still for a moment as he considers your words. When he finally speaks, it’s a quiet, choked up question, “Oh, is that it?”

“Would you like me to keep going?” you ask, lips perched just above his eyebrow, ready for another round.

He shakes his head ever so slightly. “No– no need or you’ll be here all night, surely,” he says, posturing as best as he can while still looking at you with fearful eyes. Almost as if your candid praise is simply too much for him to bear.

It may be too much, and you’re not one to push it.

“Very well,” you say, pulling back. “But I didn’t even get to how good you look covered in blood…”

The man gives a light laugh at that, some of his nerves melting before praise he understands– his appearance is a source of comfort, one that brings him back to himself. “Oooh yes, I do look dashing in red, don’t I?” he purrs, a content smile forming on his face.

“That you do,” you assure, with your own warm look. You wish he would accept all praise this easily, but you suppose this is all you can do for now.

So little of what matters to you is his vampirism, his looks… but for a man like Astarion, for whom a kind word felt like a double-edged blade for two centuries? Well, you’re reminded that regardless of how many times you may tell him, whether now when he’s a bit fuzzy around the edges or when you’re in your cups, he may never truly believe you.

No matter, you suppose. I’ll simply keep finding new ways to show him how much I care for him…

“So Jaheira was kidding, right?” Astarion asks, sitting up and finally beginning to remove his leathers.

You nod, moving to help him remove his greaves. “Naturally. I thought you’d been enjoying the conversation, actually.”

“I had been,” he replies, thoughtfully. “But the more I remembered how sinfully you shiver under my fangs…”

He’s dodging before you can so much as flick his ear. “Excuse you. Is that any way to treat your most reliable source of sustenance?”

Astarion smirks as he leans away from you in the bed. “Oh darling, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. After all, you can’t help it.”

“Astarion–”

“Ehem!” You hear from somewhere behind you. It’s followed shortly by Shadowheart’s annoyed voice, “Would the two of you please keep it down? Some of us are trying to rest.”

If by ‘rest’ she means ‘reach the end of her copper novel’, then you suppose she’s right. Either way, you whisper back, “Sorry, I was defending my dignity.”

“What dignity?” she murmurs back. “And in case you’re wondering, you’re both utter fools.”

Oh great, she’d heard everything.

“Shadowheart, were you eavesdropping?” Astarion asks, crawling over you to glare at her from the edge of your bed. He’s half-dressed and still somewhat out of sorts, so you just lean back against the pillows and accept your fate.

“Is it really eavesdropping if I can hear it all clearly?” the cleric says, and you hear her book snap shut. “Besides, Astarion, if you really needed someone to reassure you, you should have asked me.”

“You?” he asks, incredulously. “And why should I ask you?”

“Because,” she starts, and you can hear her wicked smile in her tone. “I can confirm without a shadow of a doubt that there’s no such thing as ‘vampiric charm.’ I’ve never felt less charmed in my entire life.”

You can sense Astarion is just about ready to light Shadowheart’s hair on fire, so you tug him back down from the divide. “Thank you for that clarification, Shadowheart,” you call, biting back a laugh. “And I’m starting to realize none of us really have private conversations, do we?”

“No, we do not,” you hear Gale reply from a few beds away.

With that, Astarion gives an exasperated sigh and the two of you finish removing his armor in silence. When you’re both finally ready for bed and you whisper to him, “Goodnight.” Shadowheart, Gale, and Wyll all respond, “Goodnight!”

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #rogue + rogue #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion is bad at feelings #tadfools tomfoolery #astarion comfort #spawn astarion

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liveontelevision · 2 months

Text

Demon Barber | Lucifer X Reader

IT'S DONNNEEEE

FuCk i slaved away on this one but y'all wanted a novel, so here she is!

Content Warning: Smutsmutsmutsmut +18, a little bit of angst and fluff, and Lucifer and Reader being kind of shitty people

☆☆☆

Everybody knew how much of an icon Queen Lillith was. She immediately blew up any form of media when she started uplifting demonkind. As time went on and more sinners were sent to Hell, a ripple effect of styles and trends rang throughout the city. It was important to Lillith to stay up to date with them. She hated to admit it, but she couldn’t keep up. She decided to take the opportunity to bring a new face to her team. At that point, the Morningstar family had already hired a handful of imps to keep little things in line, but this was a position that needed the point of view of a sinner on the streets.

Lucky you, you were one of the first sinners to work personally with the most powerful couple in Hell! You weren't that different from anyone else, but you are a chronic people watcher. It was an important hobby that helped you keep up with what everyone was decorating themselves with. A perfect pair of eyes for adorning the most beautiful creatures in the realm in a modern fashion. You started your glamorous job a couple of thousands of years before the Hotel was built. Even with your immense age, you did a surprisingly good job at keeping an open mind and becoming knowledgeable in most cosmetic and costuming work. You managed to make it through every extermination and more in this career. The protection from being housed with royalty definitely had its benefits.

On your first day, you went through Lillith's already existing wardrobe, in awe at the quality and unique aesthetics that she had. Even with your praises on her gowns, she insisted she needed your knowledge of street style incorporated into her wardrobe. You definitely fit into the Pride ring of hell at that point. The queen of Hell needs your personal opinion on what she wears? That went straight to your head. You became the head of a team and were credited with dressing up Lillith in some of her most iconic outfits. It didn't exactly bring you any fame, you weren't advertised or really credited in any other form than writing. Sometimes, if Lillith was put in an outfit she really enjoyed and her makeup and hair lasted through an entire performance, she'd give a little shout-out. You didn't really mind, you loved doing what you did, and the sweet praises Lillith gave you sufficed your need for validation. It felt amazing to see her face plastered all over Pentagram City, and being able to say hey, I did that. The salary helped, too.

As time went on, you noticed how little Lucifer made public appearances. When he did they were exclusively with Lillith at his side. And of course, he looked.. He was definitely a handsome ruler, but he didn’t have a lot of variety in his wardrobe. And it wasn't exactly up to your or Lillith's standards. She would often suggest taking some styling tips from you, almost begging at times, but he would refuse every time. You did little things, steaming and restitching his wardrobe, doing some touch-up makeup for shoots, but his suit? It stayed the same almost every day.

One day, Lucifer suddenly had a change of heart. He looked disheartened but begrudgingly agreed to be dolled up for a shoot that was happening soon. You were almost as ecstatic as Lillith was, getting this chance.

"I want you to give it your all, dear. Maybe I can convince him to do some more in the future if all goes well..." She'd tell you in a hushed tone, the two of you standing in front of the double doors that led to your studio." Do what you do best!" She said cheerfully, her hand on the small of your back. She practically throws you into the room once it's open, leaving you alone with Lucifer. There was no music, none of your other artists had shown up yet, and the only thing you could hear was your breath shaking. You breathed in heavily, then put on your best customer service face as you exhaled. You played professionally at the beginning, but it's always easier having some personality and small talk when you're planning on being in close proximity to clients for so long.

"Your Majesty! I hope you're doing well today, I'm glad you decided to join us this time!" You spoke in your people-pleaser voice, trying to hide the nerves that suddenly washed over your body. "Why the change of heart?" You started questioning, in a desperate attempt to find some sense of small talk with the intimidating figure seated in front of you. As you spoke, you stepped in front of the vanity he was seated at, having to stretch by his crossed legs to lay out your supplies. "I'm doing fantastic. Obviously." He spoke in an aggravated tone. You sucked in your lips, unsure if you should laugh. Luckily he didn't need a response before answering your other question. "You've seen Lily, she can be quite convincing." He puffed out his chest in his seated position, insinuating something vulgar. Your eye twitched, trying your best to not let them roll.

That didn't stop your face from heating up, the image suddenly materializing in your head. You cleared your throat, turning your attention back to the array of makeup brushes and some colored powders you had picked out specifically for this shoot." She is a beauty, I agree." You felt the need to respond in some way before getting to work.

You loved doing your job. No matter who you worked on, you'd always focus on your technique before anything else, which helped calm you down while you delicately held Lucifer's jaw, twisting his head around to get a general idea of what you were working with. You examined a solid purple bruise that decorated his neck before he had the chance to stop you. "Oh! I just - ran into a doorknob. Yeeah.. I.. tripped." He rambled a pathetic excuse, learning away from your touch." Sure, let's go with that." You replied, finally rolling your eyes at his words. "But you said it yourself, the Queen is indeed quite convincing." You teased, twisting around and grabbing a brush. When you went to move behind his chair to start running a comb through his impossibly soft golden hair, you caught how red he had turned at your remark." Oh, it's okay, I'm just teasing. You know how long I've worked on Lillith, I've had to cover way worse." You added, genuinely thinking that would help calm him down. He let out a quiet groan of embarrassment, smacking his hand against his face.

It went silent for a while as you worked on his hair. You saw how it usually was put up, and you didn’t want to scare him with too drastic of a change, so you only added some subtle layers that left it a bit fluffier than normal. You’d stop every now and then, placing your hands on his shoulders and looking at your work in the mirror. He'd flinch at your touch each time, leaving you concerned at first, then just giving him a suck it up attitude for the rest of your session. You went on to do something that didn't need your full attention and looked over his shoulder to get a peek at his phone screen that he used as a buffer for the awkward silence. It displayed a little calendar, he swiped through each day mindlessly. "Looks like you have a packed schedule, huh? How's that been going?" He looked up and pulled his phone into his lap, a squint across his face. "It's fine, I'm handling it. It's my job after all, ya know. Important things." He didn't seem to want to get into too much detail, so you let out a nervous chuckle and agreed before immediately finding some music to play to cover your mistake. You were convinced he would fire you at that point. Or worse.

As you finished up, you viewed him from multiple angles, twisting him around in the chair. You leaned down a bit, your eyes at his level then reached both your hands out and took the pieces of hair that framed his face, curling them up a bit at his cheeks. You stepped back again and placed your hands on your hips, letting out a satisfied hum.

He definitely calmed down by the time his hair was done, leaving behind the crude jokes and little rude quips from before. Now onto the makeup. This was far more intimate, so you gave him a quick rundown as you rummaged through your things." Alright, you definitely don't need any makeup, since your skin is perfect, but there's a chance the cameras and the lighting could wash you out, so I'll just use a blurring effect with this pow - " you stopped talking when you saw his confusion." I'm.. I'm gonna doll you up. Basically.." You summarized it bluntly. It was clear to you how uncomfortable he was with being touched excessively, you did your best to accommodate. You applied some translucent powders to his skin, then brightened up the cute little red circles on his face, after mentally kicking yourself for thinking of them as cute. This is the king of Hell, knock it off. You cleaned up the heavy bags under his eyes, then noticed a tired purple hue to his eyelids. Going in with a lilac color, you emphasized them.

As you were gathering some other things, stepping back a bit, he turned his head to look at his appearance in the mirror. He was expecting some ridiculous and dramatic work, but he really just looked brighter. More alert, more alive. He shut one of his eyes to see the color you had added to his lids, "I.. like that.." He spoke quietly and sounded surprised as if he didn't want to admit that to you. You let out a little chuckle, the compliment completely going to your head, before passively scolding him for touching his face before you had finished. He let his hands fall back into his lap with a pout on his face. Adding any color to his eyes or lips required precision, so you were lifting up his face by his chin to do what you do best. You were honestly a little surprised about how well he handled the rest of the session. For someone who's refused any sort of cosmetics for literal centuries, he looked like he was enjoying the pampering.

You had only worked on Lillith before, and even if she was intimidatingly gorgeous, you adapted to being physically close to her. Going into a sort of auto-pilot mode, you held your breath, tracing out his best features. Pulling away to check on his full appearance again, you noticed that he seemed to be holding his breath as well. He finally let it out once you stepped away, his face already a little flushed. You didn't think too much about it, you were mainly annoyed that the composition of the makeup was being thrown off by this sudden blush.

"Well! Once wardrobe comes in, you'll be taken down to set. What do you think?" You stood behind his chair and spun him back around to face the mirror. He leaned in, making sure not to touch his face since you scolded him before. He moved his head around, even admiring the coverage of the hickey that Lillith so generously gifted him." Hm! I suppose this works. As long as Lillith likes it, that is." His voice wasn’t enthusiastic, but you recognized the satisfaction plastered across his face. He looked up to meet your eyes in the reflection of the mirror. "She's right, you are good at what you do, I'll give you that." You gave a little nod and began to pack up your things. "I'm glad it's acceptable, your highness." You pulled up some finger quotes as you spoke the word acceptable. "You were really nice to work on actually, your hair looks great and your face is already near perfection, so I didn't need to do much. Plus, you sat very well." You spoke nonchalantly, compliments like that coming as second nature in this field.

You turned once more and bowed your head a bit before sending a smile his way. His eyes were wide, and it looked like he was struggling to stiffen a grin. He cleared his throat, covering his mouth with his fist and looking to the side. "G-Good.. Glad you enjoyed the.. Uh - Enjoyed it.." His voice muffled behind his hand. You didn't overthink his nervous reaction since you were in a hurry to get Lillith ready next. "Oh, for sure! I hope I see you around more often! I'm sure the shoot will be great." You chimed in, finally dipping out of the room as a crowd of imps barged in, finishing up his look.

The rest of the day was spent getting Lillith ready for the shoot, which took considerably longer than Lucifer's preparations. The whole time you chatted with her about how Lucifer did, calling her out on the damned bruise that you had to cover up, and general catch-up that had become routine at this point. Once everything was up and moving, you floated around the set fixing up some small details on both Lillith and Lucifer's look when needed. And of course, the shots they got were fantastic. You couldn't stop yourself from admiring your work once the posters and advertisements were distributed.

That was the first time you worked with Lucifer. Not much changed after, you became a little more popular around the staff; getting complimented on how you dressed him and answered some silly questions about what he was like. You did see him around more often, and you’d make small talk. After a few weeks, while working on Lillith, she brought up another shoot that was proposed for a big event coming up. "And get this! Lucifer asked me to put him in the shoot!" She was absolutely giddy to tell you the news. "Well, of course, he wants to be in the shoot, it's because I prettied him up so well!" You bragged in a joking tone, making Lillith let out a sultry chuckle. She placed her hand over yours, a sincere smile across her already-painted lips. "Thank you, dear. He needs the pampering sometimes." You blushed at the sudden contact and grinned in response.

---

Lucifer did in fact join that shoot. The process was about the same, but he seemed to engage in conversation more and asked more questions about what you were doing at each step. It warmed your heart to talk about your passions, you were unknowingly gushing about your interests every time he asked.

As the years went on, he joined more and more shoots, accompanied Lillith to more public appearances, and generally just wanted your opinions on his looks more often. It didn't take long for you two to become close. He'd ask for help on outfits, sometimes becoming a nervous wreck about what to wear on dates. With his wife. It was adorable the way he worried about how he looked after being with Lillith for so long and essentially running a new world together. He seemed to really enjoy having his hair and makeup done, occasionally making a fuss if you weren't the one to do it. You would scold him, talking about how he's wasting your time, and that you trained each of your stylists, so he has to trust them. He pouted the whole time.

Being around the power couple of the century unfortunately had its flaws. Like having to witness its downfall. Both of them became quieter a decade or two before Lillith's disappearance. Any time you'd try and tell a funny story about Lucifer to Lillith, she would change the topic almost immediately. On the opposite end, Lucifer wasn't supplying you with the same amount of jokes and puns as usual and reverted back to flinching at your touch. You couldn't ask about what was going on, that'd be rude.. Right?

"You know, Lillith was just talking about some sort of Gala for the Sins, are you going with her?" You had some hidden intentions by bringing this up while you were fixing Lucifer up for his day. "A Gala, huh? Haven't heard anything about that, so - I guess not!" He blurted out, clearly irritated. Shit. " Are.. Are you okay? Is something going on?" You leaned against the back of the vanity, stopping what you were doing to give him your full attention." Well, if you want to talk about it, that is.. Aaand as long as I won't get in trouble by asking." You shrugged and crossed your arms over your chest. That happened once or twice, but it was for little things; spoiling an anniversary gift one time, or accidentally getting an imp fired when you were venting about workplace struggles. "Yeah, of course it's okay! We're fine. It's fine. I'm fine! Stop asking so many questions!" He got increasingly aggressive as he spoke, you threw your hands up, stepping away and returning to the back of his chair. "Okay, okay! I believe you, jeez!" You responded to it as a joke, hoping you could recover.

You didn't talk about it after that, lifting his mood a bit by asking about his projects and other little things. As you finished up his hair, you noticed him closing his eyes and leaning his head into your hands as you ran your fingers through his hair to coat it with some kind of styling product. He'd fallen asleep in the past, so you didn't worry about it too much. You went on to work on his makeup. He asked you recently if you wouldn’t mind coming up with a more subtle everyday look for him. Apparently he just really liked your work. Or, he needed the pampering. Either way, you couldn't refuse.

He was loving the treatment today. He would hum every time you used your thumb to brush a speck off his cheek, and would start leaning forward when you stopped touching him. You pushed him back by his chest mindlessly, just needing him to sit back in his chair.

You then started to apply makeup to his eyes. Covering the bags underneath them became increasingly difficult throughout the years. You pulled him in like usual, your hand lightly leading his head up towards your face. When you paused at some point to evaluate whatever you were doing, he suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours, then flashing a quick peak at your bust that had been accentuated by your stance. He leaned back, a nervous look on his face.

"Um, hello?? I was kind of in the middle of something! That’s it. Tell me what’s wrong." You scoffed, confusion and irritation plastered across your face. He quickly dismissed it, letting you work again. He could feel your shallow breathing fan across his face as you went on. His breath was picking up, heart rate elevating as you kept this proximity. The leather on the armrests of his chair squeaked as he gripped his claws into the fabric.

After a while, you silently leaned back, only now noticing him falling apart. He leaned in slightly, dropping his jaw to let out a shaky breath. He would've hit your face if you hadn't stepped away. Possibly even met your lips.

"Uh – Your higness..?" You were oblivious, so you decided to question this behavior. He popped his eyes open and immediately leaned back into his chair." A-Are you done yet?" He squeaked out, examining the damage he had done to your chair with a nervous chuckle. "I'll uh.. I'll get you a new chair." He muttered, before looking into the mirror for just a moment. "Looks good to me! Excellent job as usual, my dear, I better get going, I have a meeting to get to so – " You watched in silent confusion, seeing him squirming and screwing up his words. He quickly stood up, not assessing how close he would be to you and how close your back was to the vanity. You stumbled backward, placing your hands on the vanity to keep yourself from falling any farther, and acting as a buffer between the counter and Lucifer. He tripped over your stumbling feet, his flailing arms landing beside yours. You were effectively trapped, his knee had bent between your legs while trying to find his balance.

A moment of silence. All you heard was the beating of your heart ringing in your ears. He looked down at you in a way that clouded your judgment. Neither of you said anything, but you fluttered your eyes shut subconsciously. He did the same, then cocked his head to the side and slowly lean into your face. He roped his arm around your waist, pulling you forward a bit, but not quite flush to his chest. Yet. You felt his shaky breath fanning over your lips, before snapping back into reality. "No! Nope - " You quickly broke free of his arms and began cleaning up your things, avoiding his gaze as it followed you frantically getting your things together. "You have a meeting, right? I just finished up, so you should be all good now! I'll just – I-I'll see you around! Have a good day, sir!" You quickly left the room, not letting him get a single word in. He reached out to you as you left as if that would suddenly draw you back towards him, but of course, it did nothing. "Well, shit." He let out bluntly, waiting for a moment in your own studio before b-lining it back to his office.

What the fuck was that?

You avoided Lucifer after the incident, and he seemed to respect that. He let one of your stylists do his daily pampering, knowing that stopping that routine would cause too much suspicion. He didn't enjoy it as much, but stopping altogether would make Lillith ask about it. Fuck. Lillith. A flood of emotions wash over you. In reality, you were closer to Lillith than her husband. You two gossiped and chatted on the daily. It was a struggle to face her after this, but what choice did you have?

She was completely silent during her last few sessions, so you drowned out your guilty thoughts with music. She disappeared a few years after that. You absolutely panicked. So did many of the staff members, but your sole concern was if it was your fault. You were quick to find Lucifer after the announcement was made, only to see him in your studio, running his hands across the rack of gowns that Lillith had left. "Lucifer. What happened? Where did she go? What did she say?" You rambled approaching him, but being careful not to get too close. "She didn't say anything. She left a half-assed note, and she's just.. Gone." He pulled a dress into his arms and gripped it tightly before letting it drop to the floor. He let out a vicious roar, throwing the rack to the side." How could she do this?! What about the kingdom? What about Charlie? Dammit.. What did I do?? We slept next to each other that night.. The same night she left… I-I could’ve stopped her, I should've - She just disappeared..!" He rambled on, quickly unraveling in front of you. You watched his tail and horns start to form, and you hesitantly gripped his shoulder. He finally stopped, taking a deep breath before turning to face you. He hadn't looked into your eyes since..

His horns shrunk back into his temples before he let his head fall onto your shoulder. You almost stepped away, but.. He needed this. And you needed answers. "Sir.. Was it because.. Did she leave because of me..?" You spoke softly, your breath a cool sensation against his heated skin. He quickly shot up, planting his hands on your shoulders and looking at you with a stern expression. "No! No, I promise it wasn't your fault. Fuck, none of that was your fault. She.. I-I'm not sure why she left, but that's not your burden to bear." He spoke calmly, a stark contrast to the raging mess he just displayed moments ago.

You two stood there for a while, his hands drifted down to hold your arms. What was he supposed to do now? He looked around the room for some kind of answer. Before he could realize what was happening, he was pulled into a tight embrace, his head just barely reaching the top of your shoulder. "It's gonna be okay.. I’ll be here, Lucifer. No matter what." It felt.. weird for a moment. This was the first time you'd gotten close to him this way. And actually, the first time you'd said his name without any sort of title. He let out another exhausted sigh, his hands snaking around your back and accepting the much-needed affection. As his head pressed against your collarbone, you stood there until he decided he’d had enough. You were there for a while.

It wasn't Lucifer's fault, but after that, you didn’t work much. There really wasn't a lot to do, without someone pushing public appearances and emphasizing the importance of image, you generally just mended and fixed up the staff's uniforms and Lucifer’s wardrobe. You were technically a stylist, but you've been doing this long enough that you could handle these jobs entirely by yourself. Actually, you did handle the job by yourself. Lucifer fired or sent most of the previously employed stylists away, along with most of the staff. About five years into Lillith's disappearance, the place had widdled down to a handful of workers. Some in the kitchen, basic housekeeping, a noisy secretary to answer some calls, and you. You started to question why he kept you around. You hated to admit that you still blamed yourself for Lillith leaving, but why else would she suddenly disappear? She was cold to you as soon as you kissed – almost kissed – Lucifer that day. You tried your hardest to avoid that thought process since you stuck around the mansion.

You were surprised to find out that Lucifer accepted an invitation to be on the cover of a magazine for Helluva Times. He hadn't needed makeup or hair done since Lillith left, and in reality, you barely saw him around. You were ashamed about how excited you were to see him again. Of course, it won't be the same as before, but you were looking forward to it nonetheless. You were taken to the studio where the shoot was being held since the one in the mansion was turned into more of a workspace for mending clothing. The studio was brightly lit and bustled with imps and some stylish sinners doing their part. You wondered if It was always like this, or if it was just because of Lucifer. You approached the vanity, the king of Hell seated in a movie set chair, with a golden star on the back, his name embroidered to the center. You were stopped in your tracks when you saw the dark circles that surrounded his eyes. Jesus, he was exhausted. You weren’t exactly surprised, more like distressed. Now that you think about it, Lillith really did a lot of heavy lifting when it came to keeping Hell in line.

"Your Highness." You gave him a little smile and nodded your head, beginning to display your usual setup on the vanity in front of him. "Heyyy! You..! Good to see you, Ahha.. ha.. h-how've you been..? How's... work been..?" He put on a fake smile and propped his head on his hand in a sad attempt to act casual. He switched to crossing his arms, unable to sit still and make eye contact with you at the same time. You didn't know how to react. The last time he was this nervous, he ended up pinning you to a table with his arms around you. You quickly got to work, trying to get the image of that day out of your head.

You go to comb his hair, recognizing that it's been a while since he let anyone tend to it; it was nearly grown to the bottom of his neck and wasn't exactly the cleanest. "Do you have wrinkle-free, clean, clothes every day?" You asked in response to his nervous ramblings from earlier. He nodded slowly," Then work is fine." You picked up on the sudden attitude you had, and it even surprised you. He quickly shut his mouth and started to spin the wedding band on his finger as a nervous fidget.

You had to put some effort in since he wasn't getting the same attention he used to. You gave his golden locks some much-needed attention, running a number of products through them and taking the time to restore it to its usual length. You found yourself peaking at his face every now and then, which he didn't notice. He was too indulgent to even keep his eyes open. You tried to stop yourself from looking at his relaxed expression, but you found yourself turning away only when he opened his eyes. You checked the clock, you definitely had some time for a more thorough session. You dug your fingers just a bit deeper into his hair, lightly running your nails across his scalp. In several swirling motions, you had him melting in your hands. You had to stop every now and then and push his head back up after it lulled to the side. It usually kept him alert for a moment, but it never lasted long. He let out a subtle hum every now and then, making you bite your lip in some attempt to keep whatever you were feeling at bay.

After you finished your little massage, you quickly finished up his hair, giving him a very-needed trim and styling it to its usual glory. You instinctively placed your hands on his shoulders once you finished and leaned in a bit to look at the results.

"So? What do you think? You needed a haircut, sir, you should… keep in touch.. If you need me, I'm here." A grin grew on your face and he couldn’t help but sigh at the sight of your smiling face. He turned his head to the left and the right, reaching up to touch his face delicately. He was less worried about messing it up and more worried about you scolding him for it. He let out a little huff and he opened his mouth, with no words coming out. It took him a moment." It's great, but uhh.. Could you do the – " He spun his fingers around his cheeks," you know, the.. Little loopy.. Bits..?"

God, what a cutie.

You let out a little chuckle and nodded, turning his chair to face you." My bad, how could I forget the loopy bits?" You teased, reaching out to either side of his head. Your hands lulled over his cheeks for some reason you wouldn’t explain. Finally, you untucked the bits of hair from behind his ears, pulling them forward and twirling them with your fingers. You placed your hands on your hips, still bent to be at his eye level.

"There. Ready for makeup, Lucifer?" Your words didn't come naturally, it took you a few seconds to debate whether or not to call him by his name. With his voice cracking in an attempt to respond, he just nodded, attempting to keep some dignity intact. You did your best to act professional, despite his lovely reactions. You started as you usually did, applying an easy base and highlighting his rosy cheeks. You never needed to do much to his face, and even after all this time, you still didn’t need to. Must be his angelic abilities, that his skin never really changes. You shrugged off the thought, getting ready to focus on his eyes. Instead of keeping his chin up, you took a light hold of his jaw, your fingers grazing his neck and your thumb placed dangerously close to the side of his lips. You both reacted to this new method, but you quickly went to work to prevent any more eye contact.

You took your time and it was clear neither of you cared to bring it up. He was past his call time, but when some poor stylist working for the news team came in to get him, Lucifer used his threatening status to give you both more time. After you finished covering the dark rings surrounding his eyes and prettying them up a bit, you mirrored your other hand and essentially cupped his cheeks. You did your best to make it look like it was for work purposes, but damn you were enjoying this. Such a beautiful creature in the palm of your hands, looking away because he was too embarrassed to meet your eyes." Look forward, please?" You spoke softly, lightly tapping his cheek to get him to follow your commands. He let out a huff, then finally prepared himself to look into your eyes. The noisy workers coming in and out of the room suddenly disappeared, the room going silent. He had your complete focus, and suddenly there was nothing more important than gazing into his red eyes. His hand moved to your wrist, holding one of your hands in place while he pressed his cheek against your palm. What a sight. You leaned in, not knowing what would happen, but also not really caring. Any chance to get close to –

"Alright your Highness, we're gonna need you on set in five." The harsh sounds of the room suddenly returned, a Hellhound making a more stern request to get this shoot over with. You quickly stood straight, taking up a brush and fixing up the small smudges you had created by holding him. "Rrright! Yup, pretty sure we're almost done, sooo... I'll be right there..! Thanks." He clenched his pointed teeth, as he thanked the brute, who walked off with a scoff. "Good golly – I'm their king! What gives that mutt the right to – " He stopped his rambling once he saw your sheer embarrassment. He took it as a sign that he went too far, that just maybe, he read you wrong.

He turned his head, looking back to his reflection and tracing his little curls with his fingers before letting out a satisfied hum. "Great work as always, my dear." He stood from the chair, stretching his stiff legs with a groan." I should uhm – I'm gonna get going, I have to.. Do the.. Thing – with the thing.." He walked backward towards the exit, pointing over his shoulder. "You mean go to set and get the shots? Hope everything goes okay, sir." You chuckled, going back to cleaning some things up. "Okay, well – oh! Thank you! Right, forgot that part. So, thanks..!" He just kept talking. Like he might never see you again once he left the room. "My pleasure, Lucifer." You hummed, still attending to your tasks. Oh, you should’ve seen the winded look on his face. He let out a wheezing chuckle, tripped over himself, then finally left the studio.

Once all your things were neatly tucked away, you were invited to the shoot. They had an extensive team of people behind the scenes, so you got the chance to just observe the process. They had him run through a number of poses, some regal, some more.. Provocative. Just for fun, they said. It made you cringe, it definitely wasn't his style. Finally deciding on a composition, he had his arms crossed over his chest, and he rested his thumb just below his chin, drawing your eye to his devilish smirk. How could someone who's been hurt as badly as he has, smile for the cover of a magazine?

You made some mental notes on his makeup and his hair, which they squished down with a comically oversized tophat. Trying to keep your mind purely professional became increasingly difficult when he kept looking over at you, his smile twitching every time. He must be tired. That’s clearly why he's acting this way.

"All right, we got it! Wrap it up, people!" An aggressive shout took you away from your phone screen, and you looked around at the rush of workers. You tried to catch anyone's attention to see if you could help with anything, but you never got anyone's attention. It was definitely a change of pace from your past experience, considering you were the lead on a team that really only dressed two people, even if they were royalty. By the time you got back to the studio, it was basically cleaned out, other than your little cart with all the supplies you brought from home. You assumed you were good to go straight home and find something to do other than feeling up the king of Hell; speak of the devil!

"Oh! I.. didn't know you were still here, I thought you left..?" A soft, and mildly raspy, voice came from the door, making you catch Lucifer's eyes in the reflection of the vanity you stood in front of. "No, I was enjoying the show." You leaned against the tabletop after turning to face him, a little smirk on your face. "You did good, by the way. The shots came out really well." You pulled up some of the shots that the company sent to your phone. "These are some very handsome photos.. You're welcome, by the way." You were gloating. He had walked forward to get a better look at your phone screen, squinting his eyes like he needed glasses, despite it being impossible for him to have poor vision. He scoffed at your comment, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well don't let it go straight to your head, dear, you didn't do all the work. I'm just naturally gorgeous, right? You used to say that all the time." He nodded his head to either side as he spoke like he was winning some argument.

"Well, I meant it and it's still true. So, don't let that get to your head." You responded like you were trying to one-up him. He immediately turned red. He can shoot his shots, but deflates at any quick or clever rebuttals." W-Well! I'll try not to.. T-thanks for being here. Not like, here, but like – helping with the shoot, and doing meee – my hair! Love my hair, came out great." Good job, Lucifer. You startled him by running your hands through his locks, attempting to fix up the mess they made by putting a heavy hat on him." Ugh, they ruined it.. It should be an easy fix, I guess... that stupid hat." You grumbled, running your hands along the sides of his head to smooth it out. He was biting his lip when you sent him a quick look." I-I like the hat..." He said weakly. You couldn’t help but let out a little laugh, beginning to pull your hands away. Clawed hands took hold of your wrists, keeping them hovered on either side of his face. "You said... that you'd be there for me no matter what. Do you remember that..?" He relaxed his face, but his hands were shaking just a bit. You nodded slowly.” Well, I’m - I appreciate that.. And you.. I-I appreciate you..”

“If you still.. I don't know, it's been a few years since – but if you still wanted to.. Ugh, dammit..! I don't know how to – " He stuttered over his words, becoming visibly upset, something stopping him from speaking coherently. You couldn't assume he was talking about the little incident from years ago, but if it was still on your mind after all that time, maybe it was still on his. He stepped forward just a bit, his grasp still lightly holding your wrists, keeping him close to you. Waiting for you to respond to a question he never really asked, he gulped, then let out a breathy, fuck it. In one fell swoop, he released your hands and immediately pulled you into a tight embrace. This wasn't like before, this wasn't to console him. His hands were wrapped around your back and cradled the base of your neck, leaving no space between the two of you.

Your entire body tensed, the breath you didn’t realize you were holding in was knocked out of you, and your arms were stuck with your hands pressed against his chest. He loosened his grasp as soon as he held you, but never actually let you go. His head had sunk into your shoulder, trying to hide some kind of adorable expression, you were sure. You had the opportunity to push him away, nothing was truly keeping you there. Physically, at least.

As you stood still, deciding what your next move would be, you'd feel him adjusting his head and turning it to plant his cheek on your collarbone, his breath hot against your chest. You knew he had to feel how hard and fast your heart was beating with how he was nuzzling into you. Focusing on one thing at a time, you tugged your arm out of his hold and lifted his face upwards, at least preventing him from being too close to your rapid heart rate. The next problem was your noses almost touching due to how close you were. His eyes were wide, full of some sort of desperation or fear, and a little bit of excitement. Your fingers still lightly hovered under his chin, and you could feel his pulse. Just as fast as yours, maybe even faster.

You felt him gulp, his face now heating up. Maybe the look in your eyes was too much for him to handle. You looked at the vanity that was just a few feet away. That should make him understand. Taking small steps backwards, which he didn’t understand, but also didn’t question, you kept moving until you felt the table hit your back. You leaned back slowly, forcing him to brace himself against the table to keep his balance. His eyes darted around as it clicked finally. You had put yourself in the same position that you were in years ago. His hands caged you in, and his knee sat between your legs for stability. You remembered it so clearly, you had no trouble bringing the two of you right back to where you left off. You took one of his arms and guided it to support you by the small of your back, then snaked your arms around his shoulders. Then, you closed your eyes and just waited. Just sitting there, anticipation bubbling in your stomach.

Before you knew it, he had softly pressed his lips against yours. You jumped at first, startled by something you were waiting so patiently for. You felt his lips pull away in response, but you were quick to pull his shoulders in, closing the gap again. He let out a little cry against your lips, as you pulled him even closer by wrapping your arms around his neck. He kept one hand at your back and sent the other to your outer thigh, slightly lifting your leg to sit against his hip. With a more secure hold on you, he leaned forward further, until you felt the back of your head hit the mirror with a light thump. "Mmph! Are you okay?" He pulled away for a moment to ask, which only upset you even more. You looked at him as if the answer was obvious, and fisted the collar of his shirt, pulling your lips back together. Clearly, you were fine.

Becoming intoxicated by your lips, he practically begged for a more intimate kiss. He placed a hand on your chin, pulling your mouth ajar with his thumb and quickly entering his tongue in your mouth. The sudden motion left you muttering incoherent praises onto his lips. He pulled away, leaving you in a daze. Once you regained your focus, you were able to reassess your situation. You had slid down the entirety of the vanity, your back fully against the cold material of the counter. One of his hands were propping himself up directly above you, the other still holding your leg, and keeping you from moving away as he pulled you impossibly closer. While letting you catch your breath, he sent a few kisses down your jaw and neck, making you grip his shoulders and hold your breath. He pulled himself away after pressing another quick peck on your lips. "Hey. Breathe. I'll take care of you, don't worry - " How dare he. How could he act so flustered when you did his hair and applied his makeup for literal centuries, then tell you to calm down? You scoffed and smashed your lips back against his, mainly to shut him up, but he wasn’t complaining.

He let out a little yelp against your lips, struggling to keep up with your sudden change of pace. Running your hands through his hair, ruining all the hard work you put into it, you lightly tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. A shakey sigh met your lips, as you took control of the situation, taking the opportunity to explore his mouth with your own tongue.

After this went on for what felt like forever, which you didn’t really mind, you pulled away to breathe. Looking up to him, your eyes explored the lipstick that messily covered his lips. You tipped his head upward by his chin forcing him to look at himself in the vanity's mirror. He let out a pathetic little wheeze, looking back down at you with a suddenly confident smirk." Beautiful work as always, my dear." He spoke flirtatiously, "You missed a spot, though." Dipping his head back downwards and indulging in your warm presence for as long as he could.

You were clawing at his back, untucking his shirt as you struggled to keep a hold of him. Both your legs had spread, making your hips flush against his. He kept you close, as he nipped and kissed across your collarbone, his sharp teeth grazing your skin without hesitation.

Sucking on the softest part of your neck, you let out a breathy moan and arched your back into his chest. The sudden motion sent friction to his lower half, making him release his teeth and suddenly bolt upwards. The reaction made you nervous, "I-I don't - I haven't.. It's been… Awhile.." He stammered out, putting an emphasis on the word awhile." I know, It's okay." He winced at your nonchalant remark, remembering how often you witnessed his last relationship essentially fall apart, as you went back to kissing his neck. He gently pulled himself away. "Nono, it's been awhile- awhile… I hadn't been close with.. anyone… for a couple.. Decades..?" He spoke nervously like he was embarrassed to admit it. You sat up for a moment, making him question whether or not he should've said anything." But.. It's only been five years, right?" You weren't sure if this was the best time to be getting into this, but these are answers you’ve been wanting for years.

"I don't know what happened, sweetheart, but we lost what we had long before any of this. I'm sorry if you thought.. I can't have you take on that burden.. Okay?" He cupped your face, shifting to a more tender approach. You tried piecing things together in your mind, which was still cloudy from the past few hours. Of course, that still doesn’t make what you two did right. Of course, you blamed yourself after all this time. He pulled you out of your thoughts, by tucking a bit of hair behind your ear and keeping his tender hold on your cheek. You couldn’t help but smile and nuzzle your face into his hand.

"We can stop if you want, love." Oh how you wanted to say stop. To say that you were terrible people for even feeling this way after all this time, while he was with his wife. Who also happened to be your employer. How scandalous. "No, I want this." You said without a hint of hesitation in your voice. It shocked him a bit, but he didn’t have much time to react before you leaned forward, unbuttoning his coat and pushing it off his shoulders. You pulled him in by his collar again, continuing to remove his vest, then opening his shirt, letting it hang open loosely, his white skin just barely peeking out. He shrugged comically, before going back to working on your neck, pulling at the hem of your blouse that had already fallen to your shoulders.

He ran his hands along your curves, eliciting a shiver down your spine. You reached your hands into his open shirt, your warm hands trailing across his even warmer chest. Your physical pleasure was subdued for a moment, absolutely in awe. "You have beautiful skin, Lucifer." Your voice was breathy, he lulled his head to the side, melting at your words and intimate touch. After a moment he let out a sweet chuckle and shrugged his top completely off. "So I've been told." Implying your constant praises from before, he puffed his chest out.

Oh, he was loving this. You sat up, your legs just at the edge of the countertop as you arched your back into him, closing the gap between your hips. You started by pressing a little kiss on his cheek, his face heating up even after all he's done to you. You then, moved your way down to work your lips across his neck and collarbone. Gently tracing his spine with one hand the other traveled downward as you pulled his hips into yours. Messaging his hip and continuously running your fingers along the center of his back, you sent him into sensory overload. You weren't surprised by the sudden bulge you felt hitting your center, in fact, you reveled how that confirmed you were doing a good job. You began sucking and biting on the skin, stopping to let out breathy mewls into his ear. The massaging of his hip turned into you pulling him in, then pushing him away slightly, only to viciously repeat the motion, forcing him to start grinding against you. Your hand on his back continued to trail up and down his spine, only you started to drag your nails across his skin as well, digging in a bit harder whenever you heard his voice hitch. You let your fingers slip into his pants every now and then, the cool sensation of your hands making him let out a little whimper.

"Your skin really is perfect, Lucifer. You are entirely beautiful. You're absolutely stunning, my king." You hummed into his ear, your skilled hands continuing to drive him crazy. He could barely keep up, his head falling back whenever you'd reach up to run your fingers through his hair. "K-Kiss me.." You heard him almost whisper, making you pull back for a moment to assess his stature. He had his hands on your hips, to keep you close, but also to keep him standing on his swaying feet. "I-I need you to.. kiss me.. Please.." He spoke in choppy sentences, he was too lost in his own pleasure to keep his head up, so you kept it forward by cradling the back of his head. When his head would start to droop too far forward, you gave his hair a light tug to remind him where he was. Did he need permission? You enjoyed the 180 he had made from the flirtatious tease just moments ago, humming in thought and tapping your chin like you were still deciding. Like you were considering not kissing him as passionately as he could handle.

He was lightly grinding his hard-on into you but still seemed patient enough to wait for your answer. "Well.. Since you said please." You finally said after far too long. He let out a sigh of relief as you inched towards him. You left your lips just over his, only letting him feel your heated breath against his lips. He shifted his stance but never moved towards you. You brushed your lips against his, not locking them together, just barely grazing them. He let out an impatient groan, his eyes clenched shut as you teased him so cruelly. Who knew this is what would bring tears to his eyes? You ran your hands up his chest, then dug your nails into him as you went back down. You finally met his lips, deciding he had enough after you wiped away a tear from his watering eyes. You don't know how he still managed to keep the kiss so tender after acting so desperate beforehand. You continuously wiped the tears off his face, keeping your hands on his face and caressing his cheeks with your thumbs. As you pulled away, he followed your lips, disappointed in the sudden disconnect. He took the silence and the look on your face as a sign, that he needs to tell you what he wants.

He dropped to his knees, the warmth you had sitting between your legs was hit with the cool air of the room as he did. He kept his hands off of you and himself but fiddled with his thumbs to keep them busy in some way. He took in a deep breath, before speaking quickly," Can I taste you?" His voice was embarrassingly loud like he was just waiting and waiting to finally say it. It sort of shocked you, you assumed he’d be nervous after admitting he hadn't done this in a while. You pulled your legs together, finally feeling how wet you were becoming, but needing to commit to the bit. You crossed your ankles to furth prevent access. "I suppose so.. But what do you saay?" you reached down and tapped the tip of his nose, as you dragged out your words like you were speaking to a child. "Please..! I need to touch you, please.." He quickly replied, with no hesitation at all. "Good boy." That was it for you.

You realized you sealed your fate, as you felt him take a hold on your knees and pull them back apart gently. He moved forward until he could rest his head on your plush thigh, which he did for a while. He lifted your skirt up to your waist, then took a moment to appreciate the view. You were finally becoming a bit embarrassed, attempting to close your legs instinctively, but he pushed your legs farther apart, keeping a tight hold onto your thighs. When he looked up at you, his eyes were wide and innocent, as if he wasn’t keeping your legs apart and wiggling his hips to give some much-needed friction to his own growing problems.

He blinked, then looked back down, trailing his clawed finger across your wet underwear. You covered the sounds you were making with the back of your hand, still struggling to keep your legs open for him. He bent his finger and pressed it deeply into your still-clothed entrance. The sensation of the fabric digging into you made you groan, but that didn’t affect him at all. He licked his lips and began gathering spit in his mouth and he pushed your legs back in place, keeping them apart this time. Running his forked tongue across your panties, you squirmed under his touch. As he lapped at the fabric, the heat from his breath and the wetness he was coating you with caused you to fall back onto your forearms. "L-Lucifer - " You said weakly, quickly drawing his attention. "This is cruel." You pouted, continuing to let out a little whimper as he kept running two of his fingers across your underwear.

He cocked his head to the side as if he didn’t understand the damage he was doing. He was playing dumb." Oh? I'm sorry, love, how should I touch you then?" He was way too calm for your liking. He let one of his fingers just graze the hem, only touching a bit of your skin. You let out an annoyed groan, and move your underwear to the side, guiding the tip of his finger to your entrance. With your hand holding his wrist, you pushed his fingers inside of you, a strange sensation to say the least. It was embarrassing. He noticed your discomfort and finally dropped the act, sending you a sweet smile and kissing your thigh before starting to pump his fingers inside of you.

You let out a sultry moan, a mixture of relief and pure pleasure finally hitting you as you felt him add another finger without any real warning. You lulled your head back, not able to see his absolute focus on matching the rhythm of his fingers to the circling of your clit. Before you could fully comprehend, he pulled his hands away and back onto your thighs, delving into your center with a heated, open-mouthed kiss. Letting out a gasp, he delved into your folds, his tongue easily slipping from your entrance and back up to your clit. He lifted a hand to continue to slowly rub his thumb in small circles, so he could focus his tongue on thrusting in and out of your entreance with ease.

He showed no sign of faltering as you bucked into his face, desperate for more of him. Your hands moved to his hair, taking a tight hold as he hit right where he was supposed to. He scrunched his face, letting out a low growl as you yanked at his scalp, the vibrations startling you in a wonderful way. He only sped up when you started to babble about being close, letting your thighs tighten around his face as you finish into his lips. He continues his rapid pace, the adrenaline from being squeezed by your shaky legs taking over. You finally pulled his head away from you after the pleasure of overstimulation started to ache in your core. You sunk backward, your body twitching on occasion.

He planted a kiss on your thigh before rising back to his feet. He leaned into you, the fabric over his groin coated in your juices the longer he pressed in. He pecked your temple, looking at you, completely unphased." Too much? How did I do..?" He seemed genuinely interested in whether or not he did a good job." Y-you did.. Great.. It was g-good.. Felt good.." You gave a pathetic thumbs up as you caught your breath." W-what happened to the whole it's been a while thing? Fuck, Lucifer." You sat up finally seeing that he split the fabric of your underwear at some point to gain better access." Guess I've still got it." He said with a smirk, waggling his eyebrows at you. You couldn’t take him seriously. Your wetness and lipstick stained his mouth, the eyeliner you had applied had ran down his cheeks and rubbed under his eyes. Not to mention, he was covered in your marks. It's fine you can cover those, you thought. Even with his sudden burst of dominance, you took pride in the fact that this was all because of you. He was all yours.

☆☆☆

If you're curious, that one is pushing 10k words ;)

(Tagging some people who might appreciate it) @saints-wrapped-in-plastic @bat-boness @christineblood

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel fandom #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin smut #lucifer x you #lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader smut #lucifer x you smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin fanfic #hazbin fanfiction #lucifer morningstar x you

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d10nyx · 3 months

Text

teachers pet

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+content, dub-con, pussy spanking, spanking, degradation, milddd brat taming, teacher x student relationships (age gap, but reader is in college), p in v, pull-out method, cum eating

a/n: i have been really struggling to write recently, so i hope you guys still like this :3 i um... hate it sorry it's not that good... writer's block is so shitty rn. feedback is appreciated !!

word count: 1.3k words

Leon finds you infuriating at the best of times. Sitting at the front of the lecture hall, giggling as you look at your phone. You never pay attention to his lectures - he doesn't understand why you even bother to show up.

You're not even subtle about ignoring him. The least you could do is try and hide in the back like the rest of his students who don't give a fuck.

To make matters worse, your grades are actually decent. Nothing to write home about, but you always turn his assignments in on time, and you've never failed to get a passing mark. If you failed, at least you'd flunk out of his class, and he wouldn't have to put up with your shit anymore.

It's like you want to get a rise out of him.

He's sick of it. He's sick of you. He retired and took on teaching college kids in the hopes he'd finally have some time to relax, but you seemed to enjoy making his life a living hell. He'd had enough of it. As you're packing up once he dismisses the class, he makes his way to your desk, his footsteps echoing across the lecture hall.

“Not you, miss. I need to have a word with you. Please come to my desk once you're packed up.” He tells you, tapping two fingers against your desk as he leans in to speak before he's returning to sit at the desk at the front of the hall.

You let out an exaggerated groan at his words, shoving your laptop into your backpack before begrudgingly making your way over to him. Your bag is slung over one shoulder, hanging precariously off to the side.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“That's right.” He says with a slight nod of his head, gesturing for you to take the seat across from him. He leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other as he waits for you to sit.

“I'm going to be honest. You've gained my attention, however it's been for all the wrong reasons. You're smart enough. I'm sure if you applied yourself to this course, you'd get top marks. Is there something I can do to help? Is it a motivation issue? Something at home?”

“Well, if I'm being honest, sir. I thought when I chose this elective, it'd be more interesting. Your lectures are, like… seriously boring.” You say with a smirk that makes it clear you're just trying to frustrate him further.

“I'm seriously getting sick of your attitude.” He bites out, leaning forward against his desk. His eyes are narrowed and locked onto your own. “You can drop an elective. It will have no effect on your main course of study. Why are you still here?”

“It's fun to annoy you, sir.” Is your response, a shit-eating grin spreading across your face.

That's it. Leon is a patient man. He'd tried his best to help you. To figure out what the issue was so he could fix it. But you? Everything about you made him want to rip his hair out.

“Stand up.” He hisses, the feet of his chair screeching against the hardwood floor as he pushes it back suddenly before standing, stalking his way to your side of the desk. You don't stand, crossing your arms as you lean back in the chair.

“I said, stand up!” He repeats, gripping you by the arm and tugging you to your feet. He presses down harshly on your shoulders, forcing you to bend over his desk. “You want to act like an unruly child? Fine. I'll treat you like one.”

“You can not be serious.” You grit out, moving to straighten back up before your chest is forced against the surface of the desk once more with a strong hand pushing down on your back, right between your shoulder blades. “Jesus. I always knew you were a fucking freak.”

“This could all have been avoided if you weren't such a brat.” He hisses, raising your skirt to expose the curve of your ass. You hear him snort, bunching up the fabric of your panties and yanking them upwards harshly, making the fabric bunch up between your lips in a wedgie. It draws a whine from your lips, your brows furrowing as you drop your cheek against his desk.

“Fucking slut. Is that why you're acting up in my class, hmm? You want attention? Prancing around in those tiny skirts, skimpy panties like these underneath ‘em?” He lets go of your panties, sliding them down your thighs before smacking his flattened fingers repeatedly against your pussy until it runs hot, dripping all over his skin.

“Fuck… fuck off.” You say through gritted teeth, your mouth twitching downwards as he continues to spank your pussy. You bite down on your tongue, trying to prevent any noises from spilling past your lips.

He pinches your clit harshly between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a little yank. He grins at the sound of your whimper and the way you jerk away from him, letting out a low chuckle. “What was that, sweetheart?”

You hear the sound of a belt buckle and the shuffling of fabric, which is enough to send a shiver running down your spine. You swallow the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling your confidence drain from you. When you speak, your voice is almost a whisper. “Mr. Kennedy…”

“Oh? You finally learning to keep that mouth shut?” He grunts, running his tip teasingly up and down between your folds, letting his cock catch on your hole just to see you jump. “Trying to pretend you're not a filthy slut, but your cunt is crying for me...”

He presses forward with a low groan, burying himself to the hilt inside of you. His cock throbs as your walls tighten around him, his fingers digging painfully into the fat of your hips as he starts to fuck into you, his pelvis pummelling against your ass with every shift of his hips.

“Greedy.” He scolds, smacking your ass harshly, and once more just to hear the way you whimper when his hand connects with your flesh. “She's sucking me right in. Know this is what you've been wanting… shoulda asked, sweetheart. Pretty sluts like you always get what they want.”

“Perfect pussy… squeezing me so tight.” He groans, thrusting deeper into your cunt, pulling you back onto his cock and angling his hips so he's bumping against your sweet spot every time he bottoms out. He fucks you with deep, hard strokes, letting you feel the drag of every inch of his thick cock inside of you.

“Ah, that's right. Just need to fuck the brattiness out of you, hmm? Goooood fucking girl. Gonna… gonna make me cum.” He says through gritted teeth, slipping a hand down to circle a thumb around your clit. You babble helplessly as he touches you, nothing but ‘please’s and ‘sir's spilling past your lips. He almost cums inside of you when he feels your clenching around him as your orgasm hits, but he's not too pussydrunk to release how stupid it'd be to get his student knocked up, so he pulls out quickly and coats your ass in his cum.

“You gonna be a good girl for me now?” He asks, dropping to his knees behind you, his tongue darting out to lick his cum off of you. The sensation has you shivering, but you nod weakly at his question. He pulls your panties up, straightening out your skirt before patting your butt and going to sit at his desk once more, as if nothing's happened. “Good. That's good.”

“Come see me after class tomorrow, babe. Gotta make sure the lesson really sinks in.”

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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rebelliousstories · 7 days

Text

Again and Again

Relationship: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst, Brief Mentions of Death, Age Gap

Word Count: 1,425

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Summary: Age is just a number with them. And now Aaron is frustrated about putting her as their emergency contact.

“Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind it, it doesn’t matter.” Mark Twain

Aaron sat alone in his office as he did many nights. For once he seemed to have finally filled out all of the forms that usually kept him from getting out at a reasonable hour, but there was a single form that held him up. His emergency contact form. Ever since Hailey, that form had remained empty seeing as the people he would want to contact in an emergency are usually right next to him.

His life had been flipped upside down for the last year. The one secret he had kept from everyone on his team, including Dave. His girlfriend, a young, hard-working lawyer from Virginia that was twenty years his junior. He was not able to bring himself to put his pen to the page though. Even though she had practically moved in to his apartment already, Aaron had a difficult time to tell anyone about her.

Jack loved her, and loved when she was around almost as much as Hotch did. The age gap between them was severe, but she was unlike any other woman her age he had met. She was wise beyond her years, and was one of the youngest practicing attorneys in the history of the state. It was a complete accident that they had even met and began talking.

Hotch sighed as he closed the file and placed it in a secure spot on his desk to take care of tomorrow. Packing up his briefcase, he gathered his effects and began to make his way home. Once he left the building, Aaron decided to phone his girlfriend while starting up his car.

“Hey darling. I’m on my way home. Holding down the fort?” He asked, letting a smile grace his face as he heard Jack in the background.

“Of course, honey. We’re just finishing up dinner prep while Jack is doing his homework. Here you go. He won’t stop asking for you,” a commotion came. There was some shuffling before he heard a new voice. He kept making turns and completing his drive home.

“Daddy!” Jack yelled excitedly from the other end of the line. Aaron chuckled as he heard his son.

“Hey buddy. You behaving for her right?” He asked, and made sure to keep his eyes on the road.

“Yeah. She’s helping me do my multiplication tables.” His son answered.

“That’s awesome, bud. I’m going to be home in about twenty minutes, okay? Can you pass me back?” Jack made sure to tell his dad that he loved hm before doing what he requested and passed the phone back to his dad’s girlfriend.

“Did you hear what I told Jack, darling?”

“I did. We’ll see you when you get here. We’re having spaghetti tonight so you may want to change as soon as you get home.” She teased to which Aaron let out a laugh.

“Did you get that recipe from Dave?” He asked, turning down a road that would take him straight home.

“What can I say? I love and trust that man’s cooking when you bring home leftovers, with a recipe sheet so you can make it again. Drive safe, dear. We’ll be here when our get home.” Aaron exchanged his own goodbyes with her. He was only five minutes from home now, and he may or may not have sped those last few miles just to get home faster.

The man flung himself out of the car as soon as he arrived at his apartment complex. Taking the stairs two at a time, Aaron joyously placed his key in the slot and stepped inside. Disarming the alarm, he set down his briefcase and unclipped his firearm on his hip before he was being attacked by a set of small arms from behind.

“Daddy’s home!” Jack exclaimed, hugging his father close. He chuckled as he turned in his son’s arms and picked him up for his own hug.

“Hey buddy.” Aaron greeted looking to where a chuckle was coming from. His girlfriend was wiping her hands on a towel while leaning against the threshold of the kitchen. She was wearing his apron, which was just making Aaron love coming home to her more. With his son on his hip, Hotch made his way to wrap her up in his arms and give her a welcoming kiss.

“Ew.” Jack groaned, trying to push himself away from the display of affection. The two adults began to break apart as they laughed at his innocence that only a child could muster.

“Did you finish your multiplication tables, sir?” She teased, tickling his stomach lightly. The boy giggled but nodded his head in conformation. “Well go get it so we can go over it.”

He took off with the speed of a star and left his dad and his girlfriend alone. Aaron turned fully to face his lover that was just a step away from the door. With a smile on his face, he drew her in closer and captured her lips in a much deeper kiss than before. Her arms came to rest on his broad shoulders as she relaxed with his hands around her waist. They pulled away for some much needed oxygen with grins on both of their faces.

“Welcome home, darling.” She whispered, pressing another kiss to his lips.

“Mmm, it definitely is very welcoming.” Aaron teased, bringing her in closer as she chuckled. Her head rested on his shoulder and they swayed slightly without a sound in the air.

“My emergency contact form came across my desk again.” He finally whispered after a few minutes. She pulled away just a little so that she could see his face.

“Oh?” It was all she could say. That emergency form had been a sore spot for him throughout the years. After Hailey, Aaron did not even put his girlfriend’s name down in his personal address book as he never wanted someone to use her against him again.

“Do you want to put someone down?” She asked, scratching her nails gently through the cropped hair at the base of his head.

“I want to you to be my contact. I’m just…” a sigh broke up his words.

“You’re afraid of me being a target?” Aaron nodded with his eyes downcast. Placing her hand on his cheek, she brought him back up to face her.

“It’ll be alright. You can put me down. Besides, I’m a high-profile lawyer. I’m already a target.” A chuckle tore itself from their throats at the joke, but it was quickly brought down by the weight of the subject.

“What’s the other reason, Aaron?” Another question that the man was reluctant to answer.

“I’m not sure what my team will think about our relationship.” He admitted.

“Because I’m young enough to be your daughter?” She blurted out, causing Aaron to look up in alarm.

“Never phrase it like that again please.” Hotch let out a sharp breath. However, she just laughed at his unease.

“Sorry, too good to pass up. But whenever you want to tell them, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Plus, Dave’s been married and divorced three times. I don’t think anyone is going to have room to talk.” Teasing once more, the couple was broken apart by the little boy in the house running for their feet.

“I did my tables.” Jack declared proudly. They each went off to do their own thing; Aaron and Jack were reviewing the math practice sheet, and she went off to finish up dinner. Dinner was a lovely affair, and the little family ate happily. The cloud of darkness was lifted from earlier, and all that was left was joy and laughter.

The next morning, Aaron unloaded his briefcase as soon as he stepped into his office and a note slipped out. Picking it up off the floor, and returning to his desk, he could only smile as he read it. On the note was his girlfriend’s full name, phone number, address, and any relevant information he needed. Plus, a non informational tidbit on the bottom.

Here you go. I expect to have one of Dave’s recipes straight from the man himself when you tell them. Have a great day, dear. Love you.

Aaron smiled to himself, got out his pen, and began to fill out his emergency contact file.

“Trust is the glue of life. It’s the most essential ingredient in effective communication. It’s the foundational principle that holds all relationships.” Stephen R. Covey

#rebelliousstories #writing #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #hotch #aaron hotch fanfiction

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reiderwriter · 9 months

Note

NSFW Prompt Requests - I’m in dyer need of 127 or 150 if you’d be so kind?🥵

A/N: I feel like I say "I got a bit carried away" in every single one of these authors notes, but this one I think I really did...

Word Count: 3k

#127: "I can taste myself on you."

#150: "Stop clenching, baby, you're already tight enough as it is."

Summary: You're hot for teacher. So is every other girl on campus. Your Professor, however, is absolutely oblivious until you spell it out for him...

Warnings: Professor x Student, age gap, oral (M receiving), face-fucking, no birth control/ condoms, creampie, male whimpering and moaning mentioned a lot, PinV sex, both of them are Switches idc idc 18+ MINORS DNI

Check out my other stuff on my masterlist!

You had been in his class for around three weeks when you decided you couldn’t take it anymore. If you were going to keep up your GPA and progress in your grad programme, you were going to have to either drop the class with Professor Reid, or persuade him to put you out of your misery.

You’d been intrigued by the course to start with, of course, which is why you’d picked up the criminology elective when it wasn’t a required class. But it was only available this semester as he was only Guest Lecturing while on leave from his job at the BAU, and getting that kind of insight from an actual industry professional rather than an academic really couldn’t hurt, right? You’d thought that until you’d seen him.

Expecting some older man with a stuffy tone and a disdain for modern technology, you’d been roughly awoken when he walked into the lecture hall on the first day and you found yourself hanging on to his every word as he read through your syllabus. You were spot on with the technophobia, but for everything else, you were blissfully incorrect. He was, quite possibly, the hottest man you’d ever seen in your life. You weren’t secretive about your thing for older men, joking all the time about your “daddy kink,” but you’d never had a thing for one of your actual professors before, and it was driving you insane.

It didn’t help that the word had travelled around the entirety of your campus as well, with multiple girls turning up to audit the class after the first week. You’d been green with envy since you’d seen them mooning over the man, and you’d felt disgusted with yourself almost instantly. He was your professor, he was damn good at his job, but he was so deliciously tempting that you couldn’t find it within yourself to actually pay attention in his classes. You knew it was only a matter of time until the man, who you realised was obviously blind to how attractive he was to a bunch of twenty-somethings with a penchant for danger and a willingness to try all kinds of new things, would catch on to how many of his students were openly lusting for him.

You hoped that you had learned enough in his classes on behaviour that you could accurately hide your feelings and thoughts, however sinful and objectively obvious they were. Your hopes were crushed on that fateful day three weeks into the semester.

You’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed already. Your alarm hadn’t gone off, your clothes were all still wet inside the washing machine in your apartment meaning you had to throw on a short skirt and pray you didn't flash anyone, and your roommate hadn’t closed the fridge properly the night before, so the milk you wanted to use in your morning coffee had spoilt. After dragging yourself into class, the last thing you’d wanted to see was twice as many students auditing the class as the previous week.

To give it to the man’s obliviousness, he hadn’t noticed until about two thirds of the way into the class, when he asked a student why they weren’t taking notes. He’d seemed confused. You were almost furious that he didn’t know what effect he was having on you, on every girl in the vicinity, but, more importantly, you. Unable to help yourself, you let out a scoff that gained his attention.

“Is there something wrong with the class materials Miss…” he trailed off, waiting for you to supply your name to him.

“Oh, no, uh, Y/N. My name is Y/N, there’s nothing wrong, sir. I’m sorry.” His lips twitched as you replied, but he went on with his class, as you sunk into your chair in shame. You were going to have to drop the class now. He must hate you, or think you were stupid, or think that you hated him, and your thoughts were spiralling so out of control that you hadn’t noticed the class had ended, and he was calling up at you from the lecturing desk.

“Miss Y/N, are you okay?” He asked, and his goddamned eyes were filled with such concern you hated that every part of your body was screaming with desire for him. Unable to respond, he tried again.

“If you have the time, would you like to come talk to me in my office? I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.” You should’ve said no, just based on the ridiculous scenes filling your mind, but you didn’t hesitate to nod your approval. You picked up your bags and made your way down the steps to where he was waiting with all of his stuff near the front door. He opened the door for you, and you felt your heart race as you awkwardly slid by him in the doorway. He had to be a fucking gentleman, too, right?

You followed him as he made his way to his office, staying silent the entire way. He looked like he wanted to make small talk but didn’t know how, choosing instead to just mirror your silence. When you reached his office, he apologised for the mess and showed you inside, letting you take a seat on the couch whilst he put all his things away. The room was littered with books of all sizes, and you noticed that the titles didn’t seem to have one common subject linking them all, or even, in fact, seem to be written in the same language. You spotted a beaten up copy of War and Peace on his desk next to an obviously used coffee mug, and some paper files that looked to be the reading from that morning’s class.

“Sorry, I didn’t exactly plan on having guests, uh, make yourself comfortable?” He asked it as a question, and loosened his tie as he said it. You stared at the small patch of skin on his neck, your eyes lingering just a moment too long before you remembered you were in a room with an actual FBI Profiler, and that if your thoughts were any louder, he’d handcuff you himself. As tempting as that was, you really didn’t want your Professor knowing about all the ways you’d imagined him fucking you.

“Professor Reid, I’m sorry, I have to leave, and- and I think I have to drop out of the class.” You stood up suddenly, and he stood up too from his place at his desk, shocked at your sudden anxious outburst.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, is there something wrong? Did I make you uncomfortable?” he asked taking a step closer to you, but you took a step back again, accidentally pressing your back against one of his many bookcases in your haste to avoid him.

“Yes! I mean no, it’s not your fault that I’m uncomfortable. I’m not uncomfortable, really!” He had the look of a kicked puppy on his face now, and you realised this man would be the death of you. You weren’t even sure what it was about him that entranced you enough to stay and continue the conversation.

“I can’t focus in your classes, Professor,” you sighed out, letting your eyes drop with the embarrassing confession.

“That’s perfectly fine, many people struggle to pay attention in college classes. Is there anything I can do in my lectures to accommodate to your needs?” Your eyebrows screwed up in frustration with his obvious professional kindness.

“No, Professor, I’m sorry, unless you stop looking like that there’s nothing you can do.” You ran a stressed hand through your hair as you begged your mouth to shut and stay shut.

“...What?” The confused tone in his voice let you know that he had no clue at all what you meant by your words, but he didn’t go further. You chanced a glance up at his face, and were met with a small blush rising to his cheeks, as you watched the words process in his brain.

“Professor, every single person in that class that is attracted to men would kill to do absolutely sinful things to you. You’re like the campus’s collective wet dream right now. You had to know that, right?” You sigh out, finally putting the man out of his misery.

“Oh. No. No, no, I didn’t. Know that, I mean, I didn’t…Is that why there are so many people auditing the class? They want to…. Do that with me?”

“Fuck you, Professor. They want to fuck you. You can say it, we’re both adults.” You resigned yourself to the fact that this conversation was probably going to haunt every waking hour for the rest of your life, and just let it happen, pushing through the cringe to help him come to certain realisations.

“And that’s why you want to drop the class?” he asked finally, looking back up at you.

“Yes.”

“Because you want to…fuck me?”

Your mouth dropped open at his words, as you desperately tried to back track, but all that came out was hot air and blubbering sounds as you felt your brain short circuit like his had just moments before.

“I mean… I guess,” you finally stuttered out, your fight or flight instinct begging you to just run, but something deeper, something carnal planting you in position and making movement in that moment impossible.

“Oh…. right.” He nodded at you, his lips spread in a thin smile as he nodded at you awkwardly. You stood there together in silence for a minute, but it became clear soon that the logical part of your brain was no longer in control of your mouth.

“Can I?” you asked, almost startled at your own boldness.

“Excuse me?” he said, his voice raising higher in tone at the incredulity of your statement.

“Can I fuck you? If I do, maybe I’ll be able to, you know, pay more attention in class. Get it out of my system, you know.” Growing emboldened by your own words, you took another hesitant step towards him, reaching your hand up to gently touch his arm. His jaw clenched at the contact, but he didn’t move away, didn’t suggest you stop right there and forget this conversation ever happened.

“Please, Professor Reid. Please fuck me,” you trailed the hand up his arm and back down his chest as he stood there just watching you beg for him. You discarded your bag on the chair, and keeping your eyes focused on his, trailed both of your hands down to his belt, slowly enough that he could push you away at anytime.

“Do you know what you’re doing, Miss Y/N?” He asked quietly, and you smiled, finally happy to get a reaction from him. The smile had dropped from his lips and there was something suddenly dark in his tone that had you clenching around nothing.

“Yes, Professor,” you said, letting your hands start working on his belt, undoing it agonisingly slowly as you watched him control his breaths. When you finally had it undone, you finally looked up at him again, and gave him a smile as innocent as you could muster.

“You have my permission,” he whispered into your ears as he gently put a hand on your head and pushed you down to your knees, perching himself on the edge of the desk. You wasted no time then, desperate to live out each and every single one of your fantasies with him. Reaching into his pants, you found him already hard and pulsing, and you released his cock from its confines quickly. Spitting into your hand, you gave him a few quick strokes as you watched him grow even bigger under your touch.

Letting out some sinful breathy moans, you looked up at him, head thrown back and eyes screwed shut as you finally reached your tongue out to lick at the tip of his cock. He twitched at the contact, and you felt the warmth pooling between your legs as you watched his each and every reaction. Finally wrapping your lips around him, you decided to put him out of his misery, sinking down on his dick an inch at a time until he was hitting the back of your throat. He was delightfully vocal the whole time, moaning and whimpering so much that you almost pulled off him completely and begged him to fuck you raw. But the taste of his cock was intoxicating and you wanted more and more of him. After a few minutes of your agonisingly slow pace, you felt his hips beginning to buck up to match your pace as he began to face-fuck you. He grabbed a handful of hair, and you did your best to relax your throat, stabilising yourself by placing one hand on his thigh and sinking deeper into your open hips on the floor.

His eyes were still screwed close, but he was moaning out your name now, with a few expletives thrown in too, having done a complete 180 from the few minutes earlier when he’d hesitated to even say the F word in conversation. You felt he was getting close when he started thrusting deeper, sloppier in his movements and more breathy in his moans. He suddenly pulled out of your mouth and lifted you to your feet, bringing you face to face with him.

“We didn’t… we didn’t say where I would, um…” he tried to say but you pushed up onto your toes and pressed a hot kiss to his mouth, your tongues quickly twinning as he returned it in kind. You stood there, lips locked and breathless in that space for quite some time, neither of you caring about the lack of oxygen you were getting. Finally, using the hand that was still fisted in your hair he pulled you away from his lips, and you whimpered pathetically at the loss of contact.

“I can taste myself on you,” he panted into your neck as he held you close, the words sending a shiver down your spine and forcing another moan out of your mouth. The pain from his tight grip in your hair only heightened your pleasure as he moved his lips back to your exposed neck and continued his ministrations.

“Please, professor….” you begged again, desperate for his attention. “Please fuck me.”

Without removing his lips from your neck, he quickly moved the two of you back to the couch you’d been sitting on before, guiding you into his lap, his cock still hard and free from his pants. Your skirt spread open, and your hard landing meant you could feel all of him pressed against you. You thanked the gods for your suddenly well-timed laundry efforts as he grabbed the base of his cock and started teasing you through your panties. You were sure they were soaked through as you sat in his lap, grinding down on his perfect cock, his mouth still pressed into your neck.

“Fuck me, please fuck me,” you moaned, and he complied, finally hooking a finger under the seam of your panties and moving them to the side as he pushed up into you with another throaty moan.

“Yes, thank you. Thank you Professor, thank you.” You moaned out in bliss as you sank further and further down on him, pushing further than any man had been. before.

“Stop clenching, baby, you’re already tight enough as it is,” he ground his teeth in a hiss, and you moaned at his words, the pervertedness of them shooting straight to your core.

“Can’t…help myself. You feel so good, sir.” He started moving then, holding your waist as he started lazily thrusting upwards. After having your mouth wrapped around him, he knew that too much too soon would mean that this wouldn’t last long, and you had begged him nicely, so he wanted this to feel as good for you as it did for him. Gripping one of your hips tightly in one hand, he let the other fall under your skirt, and started pressing into your clit. You threw back your head at the contact and started riding him, matching each of his upward thrusts with a downward thrust of your own, letting his thumb gain speed as it followed you up and down.

“Fuck, professor, thank you…I’m gonna cum, fuck, thank you so much,” you stuttered out as you could feel your orgasm rip through you, collapsing into his arms as he thrust quicker into you now.

“Y/N, where… where should I….” His voice trailed off, and after a few seconds regaining your sanity after your climax, you finally answered the question he’d been desperately trying to answer.

“Inside… Inside me, Professor Reid, it’s okay…” he whimpered at that, at each thrust he pushed into you, his head falling to the crook in your neck and your hands stroking the hair at the base of his neck as you clenched around him again, finally pulling the desire out of him. He came noisily, even with his face buried in you, moaning so delightfully you knew the sound would be your new distraction for the next three weeks.

When he finally regained his composure, he let his hands drop from your waist, his head rolled back on the couch, and you fell with him, wrapping yourself around him as if you never wanted this coupling to end. You stayed there, head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, and drifted to sleep.

You awoke an hour later, but there was no sign of the Professor. He’d cleaned you up somehow, because there was no unpleasant feeling between your legs, and he’d wrapped a blanket around you as you slept, making sure you were comfortable. Collecting your things and making to leave, you almost convinced yourself that it had all been another fantasy, and that you were becoming seriously delusional about the man. As you approached the door, however, you spotted a small note taped to the handle, and quickly pulled it into your hands.

Miss Y/N,

Thank you for visiting me today. I hope you decide to stay in the class, I certainly could learn a thing or two from you.

- Spencer Reid.

P.S. You’re lucky I’m an MIT Graduate with a job in the FBI. There’s a security camera in my office.

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