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sttoru · 9 months

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𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 . . .

⟣ sypnosis. you’re fed up with your rich abusive husband and finally decide to hire a skilled assassin to get rid of him in secrecy. one night when you’re left alone in your penthouse, you invite the assassin named toji over to give him the money he’s demanded to accept the job. things turn for the worse when your husband comes home early that day and catches toji and you together.

⟣ note. eeek. never thought i’d be here to write this out but i did and it turned pretty detailed if i must say. hope u all enjoy and appreciate my hard work. feedback / comments are greatly appreciated ! if the fic does well, i can make an alternative ending that’s smutty :3 wc: 7.4k

⟣ tags. toji fushiguro x female reader. angst, comfort. themes include abuse. reader is in an abusive + toxic relationship with her husband. implied age gap with husband. implied size difference with toji. mentions of guns + blood + m.urder. knifes.

“what is a successful marriage?”

that is one of the many questions that keep you up at night. you’ve laid awake for hours on end ever since you’ve married your husband, in search for reasonable answers. you’ve got many of them sorted out, however that specific question is one left unanswered.

it is very subjective—many can vary about the concrete answer. but one thing you know for sure is that your marriage is the exact opposite of what ‘successful’ means.

you were so full of yourself. you didn’t realise that your pride would also be your downfall one day; you’d constantly brag about having a rich husband who gets you everything you wanted. you were too blinded by love—or actually—by his money to notice the real him. the real, twisted and manipulative face of the man you were determined to marry.

his name was daisuke. from the yamamoto family. a family known in japan for its generational wealth and the many buildings and famous corporations it owns. you’ve worked at one of those companies and had met daisuke whilst he was on a visit. you’ve heard about his image by the public; sweet, caring and apparently wouldn’t hurt a fly.

unfortunately, the true him matched none of those descriptions. the true him only you—his wife—came face to face with at your shared home. you remember when it started. when daisuke began to turn into a nasty, abusive man whose anger is never restrainable.

your dating years were nothing but a dream. or, maybe you were too gullible to notice the signs and red flags your then boyfriend was showing. his love bombing, the manipulation, the gaslighting—you didn’t know better. if you complained about a minor thing that he had done, daisuke would apologise by sending you lots of money and presents. toxic, isn’t it?

but you didn’t care. you were happy and content with that being your compensation. the money was the evildoer that made you lose all your morals. the teenage you who said that you’ll never put up with a man’s disrespect was long forgotten.

even now, 4 years later, you put up with his verbal and physical abuse just to continue staying in that big mansion you live in. to continue getting everything paid for you. to continue getting lots of money by doing nothing but be his wife—his trophy wife, at this point.

it’s an easy life; ‘all i have to do is get through his abuse and it’ll be just fine’, you tell yourself that every night. it’s the only thing keeping you sane—a coping mechanism of some kind.

however lately, daisuke’s never skipped a day without being abusive towards you. he’d enter your home yelling and shouting, complains about the tiniest speck of dust in the house (which is not even your fault, it’s the maids’), reminds you how worthless you are in his eyes and the list goes on. he sometimes gets physical and throws stuff at you, causing multiple bruises and cuts to appear on your body after he’s done having his daily tantrum.

he might even kill you one day. it’s scary to think about; if he would, he easily could. he could one day just decide to be done with you and stick a knife in your body, leave you to bleed out and then order one of his men to get rid of your corpse. just like his family does to whoever stands in their way of success. you don’t want to discover how many people your husband has killed.

daisuke can easily get away with murder after all—the law is nothing but a thing to exist to keep the common citizens in the government’s control. to the rich, it’s like those rules don’t exist. court? justice? the so called independent judge? nothing money can’t buy. after all, money is power. money is innocence.

after four years of sticking with that rich man, you were getting tired. you were staying with him for his wealth, but was it actually worth it? besides, if daisuke hates you so much, why wouldn’t he divorce you instead? you don’t have anything going for you. except for your looks and youth, probably. that’s the main reason why daisuke coaxed you into marrying him—to show you off during events or parties. a complete and utter trophy wife you are.

you’ve been going to sketchy bars lately to let off some steam. you weren’t even there to drink alcohol. the sole reason for attending pubs was to forget about your own situation. you’d get weird stares since you’re always alone, sitting in that one spot in the far corner, no one wanting to come up to you because of that gloomy aura you’re emitting. and because you’re always dressed modestly from head to toe—not an ounce of skin showing. it was all the opposite of what most people would normally look and act like in bars.

‘what is normal?’ also a subjective question. society has turned it into an objective one, however.

“good day, miss.” a deep voice had interrupted your thoughts one day whilst you were doing your usual routine; sit near the bar counter, get a non-alcoholic drink, stare at the table for hours and question your purpose in life before going home to the reason of your problems.

a man, probably in his late 30’s or early 40’s, sat next to you on an available stool. he nonchalantly ordered a drink before making small talk. it was a nice change of pace for some reason. you had asked him his name. it was shiu.

that stranger had kept you company for hours until a call from your husband made you snap back to reality; you had to be home as soon as possible. judging by daisuke’s tone, you were in big trouble.

you remember how shiu outed his concern for your well-being by pointing out the bruises on your arm which you didn’t even know were showing.

you dismissed his worries with a fake smile and told him it was nothing, quickly pulling your sleeve back down. shiu seemed to let the topic go, but before parting ways with you, he handed you his business card. you didn’t know what it was for—what kind of services he could offer;

“call that number if you need someone to get rid of your problems,” was all you got before the mysterious man walked away. you couldn’t shake off the emphasis on the word ‘rid’. it sent a shiver down your spine.

that sentence of shiu’s echoed in your ears as tears streamed down your cheek after you arrived home. you were in your personal bathroom, hands shaking as you put a bag of ice on your fresh bruise, the small red and blue-ish area stinging. once again—you couldn’t avoid your husband’s wrath.

after having slept for a mere two hours that day in your bathtub, you’ve awoken to an empty house. daisuke was gone for work. luckily for you.

you hastily grabbed the business card in your purse and dialled the number. staring at the card, you’d think it was some kind of house cleaning service. that’s the kind of vibe it gave. little did you know that it was far from that.

a few rings later and you heard the same familiar deep voice in your ear; “good morning. with shiu kong.”

your heart was beating in your throat as you couldn’t gather the right words to say. maybe it was due to the little voice in the back of your head that warned you for something—you couldn’t pinpoint what the specific cause was just yet.

you answered eventually, “hi. uhm, you said i could call this number if i needed someone to get rid of my problems.” you pause and inhale deeply, “wh-what if my problem was.. a person? would you…” your voice trailed off, but the implication could not be missed by anyone if they heard the tone you used.

shiu seemed to recognise your voice, though stayed silent for a second or two at your request. when he replied, it sounded like he had expected you to ask him this—like he’s heard this many times before; “certainly.”

that’s when you realised what you’ve gotten yourself involved with. you were sweating and you had trouble breathing as you realised that.. this was your chance. to get rid of that man called your husband. your abuser.

you had decided to take on that opportunity and that’s how you ended up getting a phone call from an anonymous number right after your talk with shiu. the agent hadn’t told you anything other than the name of the person who’d contact you; ‘toji’, and said that he’d help you further.

you stared at the ‘no caller ID’ on your screen. this was him: the person who’d help you get rid of your problem. you gulped before sliding your thumb across your mobile to answer the call.

“hi, good m—”

“location.”

the husky male voice cut through your introduction and got straight to the point. your lips were parted to answer the man whom you guessed was ‘toji’, but your breath got caught in your throat for a second. do you just randomly give your address to a stranger? was that okay to do? you didn’t know—no, you didn’t care. if you got killed in the process or something similar, that’d be way better than to live another day in hell with your husband.

you dropped your address after some hesitation and toji just added a quick, ‘be there in an hour or so,’ before hanging up on you.

fast forward to 50 minutes later and you were pacing back and forth in your living room, trying to breathe properly and not have a second panic attack. daisuke wouldn’t be home until noon, so at least he won’t see whoever will enter your mansion in a few minutes. and if there’s a possibility that you get killed by this stranger, you’re sure that your husband would be more than happy that the job was done for him.

a loud tune. the sound of your doorbell. normally, you’d find the short melody relaxing, but now it sounded like something out of a nightmare. you made your way to your intercom and looked at the small screen—seeing a tall black-haired man with a compressed shirt and beige baggy pants standing near the gates. that must be toji—the man you talked to an hour ago.

he must be confident in his abilities since he didn’t cover up his identity at all when coming all the way over here.

you press a button and the gates open with a buzz. toji disappears from the little screen as he enters your front yard. the screen fades to black and you’re left alone with a sense of dread in your stomach. that only lasted for a couple seconds since the doorbell of your front door goes off.

“c-coming!” your voice cracks. you make your way over to the entrance of your home and breathe in. you open the doors slightly, peeking through the gap at the tall, intimidating man standing before you.

toji was kicking a rock to the side whilst waiting and looked up when you opened the doors. he seemed laidback, as if this was nothing but child’s play to him, “took ya long enough.”

you were appalled as toji simply barged into your home like he owned it. his strong, masculine cologne wafted through the air as he passed you by without giving you a second to process his intrusion.

your shaky eyes followed his bulky figure—the muscles that bulged through his shirt, which tensed every now and then. his aura was no joke either; it was horrifying to someone whom didn’t even know who he was or what he exactly did for a living.

“phewww,” the dark-haired man let out a low whistle as his eyes scanned the interior of the entrance hall, shamelessly touching a few expensive looking decorations, inspecting the material, “pretty damn rich, ain’t ya? this y’r daddy’s money?”

you shake your head and close the door behind you, staying there in case you needed to run. you are still wary of this situation, even when you had been the one that started this all.

“h-husband’s.” your voice was a quiet whisper. toji raised an eyebrow and turned his attention towards you. his eyes scanned you from head to toe. you looked pretty young. a fragile little thing, is how he described you in his head.

“husband? you?” toji chuckles dryly, before stepping closer to you, his body towering over yours. he lowers his head and stares at you from up close, his hands in his pockets whilst wordlessly looking at you.

you swallowed a bit of saliva and glanced back at the big man whom belittled you twice in just a couple seconds. you fumbled with the sleeve of your hoodie as the silence grew deafening—the only sound being your own soft yet shallow breathing.

your fingers scratched at the bruises under the fabric of your clothes, causing the cloth to slightly crinkle and glide up a few centrimeters with each rub before coming back down once your fingers stop. the instant you start touching those bruises, the itching just wouldn’t stop.

toji noticed this and looked down at your arm. his eyes caught a small glimpse of a wound on your wrist, but he didn’t seem to comment on it. with a sniff, he straightened his back and cocked his head to the right—face cold again as he glared at you;

“do ya know what kinda stuff i do?” his voice was booming, the deepness to it making you shiver. you press your lips together and search for answer, only to find nothing;

“n-no, i mean—“ your itching increases the more nervous you felt, “th-the man who directed me to you said you’d explain things further. all i know is that you can get rid of uhm— a problem of mine.”

toji scoffs and mutters something incomprehensible under his breath about his ‘stupid agent letting him do all the work’ before turning around. he lazily walks ahead as if he had all the time he needed in the world. once arrived in your living room, the man plops down on your couch, spreads his legs and leans back against the cushions. he really acted like he owns this place.

“i’m not the type to beat around the bush, little lady,” toji starts whilst his eyes follow you as you nervously sat on the chair next to the sofa, “so i’m gonna get straight into it. and if ya back down after this or get too scared ‘n call the cops, unfortunately, y’r pretty ass gotta go.”

toji swipes a thumb across his neck to indicate what that latter meant; killed. you’re gonna get killed if you learn his real identity and decide to expose it to anyone, especially the police. you blinked your tears away whilst thinking of that possibility and shook your head, putting on a determined face. you need to take responsibilities for your actions. you were the one who started this.

“all right. i promise that i won’t back down.” you reply after getting yourself together. toji’s eyes had left yours for a second to look around the grand living room—as if inspecting for something—before settling back on you. he quickly exhales through his nose; leaning his head on his hand while his piercing gaze burned holes in your skin,

“i’m an assassin.” toji says in a bored tone. he’s done this little introduction to his job so many times before to clients who hire him in for the first time, “i kill people in exchange for money. so, ya basically hired me to get rid of someone ‘nd i’m here to collect the money and information i need to finish the job. got that?”

there it was. the confirmation you needed and got without an ounce of hesitation coming from the man in front of you. you had expected this outcome (from the many you created in your head), of course, thus you weren’t that surprised. yet the fact that you actually have a hitman in your house, someone who can easily kill your husband, still makes you nervous.

“yes, thank you.” you eventually replied and nodded, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. you looked up at toji and this time it wasn’t in a nervous way. this time it was in a determined way. toji notices this change and the scarred corner of his lip curled into a smirk.

“how much. . . money do you want for this job?” you go straight to the point. the dark-haired man grins whilst scanning your figure up and down shamelessly, enjoying the confident look on you. it suited you better.

“depends. who is it that i gotta kill?” toji asks, using his thumb to crack his index finger. you look around as if anyone could hear you. you were sure that no one was there with you, no maids no bodyguards no husband, yet your anxiety was still at its peak.

“my husband.” you reply quietly and point at the big picture frame on the wall near the chimney. it was a picture of daisuke and you. you seemed happy there, but it was all for show. that photoshoot was simply for his benefit, “daisuke. daisuke yamamoto.”

toji raises his eyebrow and stares at the picture. he’s heard of that name before. it was mentioned many times in the articles he reads. the assassin stands up with a grunt and walks to the chimney, letting out a small hum like he was thinking about it. not about if he could get the job done—no, his pride told him he easily could—but about the amount of money he wanted to get out of this.

there was a silence before toji turns around on his heels and walks over to the couch again, plopping down on the soft cushions whilst propping his feet on the table in front of him, “around seven million yen will do.”

that was about 50.000 dollars.

your jaw slightly dropped. it’s not like you haven’t seen nor heard of such big numbers before, it’s just that it was a little unexpected. but then again; nothing you can’t afford. with your husband’s money. the same money that ruined your life, is going to be used as a weapon to save it.

daisuke’s own money is going to be the death of him. and you’re the one to guarantee that.

“all right. i can get you that in cash.” you nod idly. your mind was clearly somewhere else—trying to remember the password to daisuke’s safe that was situated in a hidden room near his office. you recently found out that he keeps most cash, gold and other valuable pieces there, away from your sight. he was bad at hiding that fact from you, however.

one night, he came home drunk and it ended up with him confessing to you that he ‘won’t ever let a gold digger like you near his money again’ and proceeded to spill that he ‘has a secret safe which you won’t ever get your hands on’. eventually, you did. after a bit of snooping around, you easily found the hidden room behind a bookcase.

those fat stacks of money in there definitely add up to more than seven million yen. you’re sure of it. the only obstacle in your way is gathering that money. most of the time, daisuke locks his office before leaving home—or if he doesn’t—his maids will be in there cleaning.

“it will take me some time, but…” your voice trails off as a pensive look falls on your face. you bite your bottom lip and try to figure out something—a plan. toji catches your attention again by letting out a deep sigh. he dismissively waves your worries away with one hand;

“tha’s fine, lady. i need some time to prepare for this job too—it ain’t an easy one after all.” the assassin comments whilst scratching the scar near his lips, also seemingly deep in thought about his own plan, “bet he got lots of guards on his ass, too. tch.”

there was another thought in the back of toji’s mind that bothered him. normally, he’d be pissed off if his client didn’t prepare any kind of money beforehand. maybe some compensation bills, or at least a little thing he can have before they give him the full amount.

but with you, he seems not to mind. he wouldn’t be mad if he left this place empty handed for the time being. maybe he actually feels pity for your situation. or was it something else?

toji scoffs at his wandering mind and inwardly tells himself to shut up about such dumb stuff. getting his money is what’s most important to him. if you die afterwards, he wouldn’t care.

that’s what he tells himself.

“anyways. you should gimme all ya know about him. y’re his wife, right? ya should know his routine ‘n stuff that i can work with.” toji speaks up after the ten seconds of silence. you nod at his question—he wanted every single piece of information about your husband, so you’ll give him everything. no details excluded.

you pull out your phone and show toji pictures you took from daisuke’s computer in secrecy. pictures of his daily schedule for the upcoming month. your prior intention by taking those was to know when to be back home or when to avoid him, but they could be useful for this as well.

you continue to explain when and where daisuke holds his breaks, where his main office is located, the bodyguards that accompany him every day and when they leave him alone— all the information you gathered.

toji can’t help but be amazed by your memory. and the fact that you can recall everything, small or big, about your husband. it certainly did make his job easier; now he doesn’t have to pry out more hints on daisuke himself.

of course, you had your reasons for knowing all the miniscule facts about daisuke. it’s how you managed to survive those four years of marriage.

“good. tha’s enough.” toji nods and stands up with a grunt, stretching his arms—the muscles retracting. you couldn’t help but stare at them; he must have gone through a lot of training to become an assassin. a skilled one at that.

“before i go,” toji continues as he walks past you without looking back, heading straight for the exit of the living room, “you should delete all cctv footage that ya got going on ‘round here. i’ll take care of further evidence, yeah?”

toji moves his index finger in a circle, pointing at all corners in the house. he doesn’t want to risk anything, “i’ll call ya once i get things sorted out. then i’ll get to work when ya hand me the money.”

you nod and make a mental note for yourself to do that immediately once toji’s gone. you still had an hour or two before your husband would return. you don’t think he checks the cctv footage often (otherwise he’d have caught you sneaking into his office before), but it’ll be a big problem if he actually does and sees a random man in his home.

“will do. thank you.” you reply to toji and get up to politely see him out of your house. that’s when the realisation kicked in; your husband will be killed by this man right here in front of you. goosebumps appeared on your skin—not from fright. but from… happiness?

this stranger will end years of torment for you. yes, it’s his job. he’ll probably disappear after he’s got the money and completed your request, and yet, you can’t help but be extremely thankful.

without thinking, you reach out and grab onto toji’s wrist to stop him from moving. the assassin doesn’t stiff or tense up by this sudden touch. in fact, he’s already sensed it coming and allowed it.

toji’s actually more surprised by the fact that his mind and body allowed you to touch him. if it were anyone else, he’d probably have avoided their touch, broken their hand or worse—cut it off.

he moves his head to the side and looks at you from his peripherals, though not fully turning to you yet. he doesn’t speak up either; he’s waiting on you to go first.

your heart was somehow starting to beat even faster. you bit your lip and mentally cursed yourself out for pulling such an action; you could’ve just waited to show your gratitude through the phone.

well, either way, there was no going back now so you might as well spill your words of gratitude right this moment. you took a deep breath and parted your lips, ready to talk, but was then interrupted by your biggest nightmare.

a familiar, chilling voice. your heart drops. your body freezes.

“i knew it.”

a looming figure stood near the entrace to the living room. you recognised him instantly, as did your body, which went into an almost paralysed state. your mouth went dry, your hands started shaking and your eyes widened to the point you weren’t blinking anymore.

your husband, daisuke, appeared out of thin air in front of toji and you. his gaze was solely focused on the way your fingers were curled around toji’s wrist. to top it off, he had only heard the last bits of your conversation: something about deleting cctv and money. his brain hadn’t heard the entirety of it—he had already taken wrong conclusions in his head.

daisuke’s veins were on the verge of popping as he took two big steps towards you—you taking two steps back in response.

“i knew you were cheating on me, you fuckin’ slut.” daisuke spits with his finger pointed right at you. he was ignoring toji’s presence for the time being. he had to deal with you first;

“i work my ass off all day and night to provide for you and this is how you repay me? by inviting a random dude over whilst i’m gone? ungrateful bitch.”

two insults in a row; one more and daisuke’s putting his hands on you. it always went like that. your mind felt like it was emptied, but you somehow felt relieved that your husband didn’t seem to know the real reason of why toji had come over. daisuke really thought you were just cheating on him, and that your words of ‘deleting all cctv footage’ was to hide that infidelity.

“it’s n-not.. like that, daisuke.” you try to soothe the raging man in front of you, but your attempts were futile. he was just three quick steps away from resorting to physical violence.

toji, in the meantime, had stepped off to the side. you were only his client, thus there was no need to interrupt a couple’s ‘dispute’. you weren’t anyone dear or special to him—just a client. a stranger that owes him money to perform a job.

the assassin leans against a nearby wall, crossing his arms over his chest whilst watching the scene unfold. it was unfortunate that toji’s target was right there in front of him; he could just kill him right now. get the job done and over with. but, once again, toji only got to work if he had the money. he only assassinates when his skills are paid for. not any earlier and not any later. those were his morals—the rules he lives by.

if toji wanted to, he could simply walk away and let you handle this stuff by yourself. daisuke accusing him of being your ‘thing on the side’ didn’t bother him. as long as your husband doesn’t know his real identity, he’s fine with whatever accusations that get thrown at him.

but, for some reason—the same reason from earlier—his body was yelling at him to stay. toji sighs; he knows he won’t ever win a battle against his heart’s needs. he decides to stay.

daisuke still doesn’t seem to care about this; all the man wants is to out his anger and accuse you of things he now has enough ‘evidence’ for. he was seething and fuming at this revelation.

“god knows what else you’ve done behind my back. i bet he isn’t the only one you’ve fucke—“

“stop! i’m not cheating,” you finally yell back. it was the first time in a while that you had gathered the strength to do so. it felt good now that you had stuck up for yourself, but you knew how this would end for you—probably on the floor. crying.

despite all of that, you decided to keep on going. it’s now or never: all you have to do is make up a lie, probably withstand daisuke’s anger again and hope it doesn’t kill you. just this once; all you have to do is survive this once and then you’ll be freed from him.

you’ll give toji his money and he will do the job for you. just a few more days—

“he’s.. he’s my friend’s husband. i invited them both over and he just arrived earlier than expected.” you quickly made up. it sounded a little convincing to you. toji’s low snicker of amusement in the back confirmed that it maybe was the opposite of convincing.

daisuke scoffs at the pathetic attempt of hiding your ‘infidelity’. with another step forward, he raises his voice a notch; “yeah, right! what a pathetic excuse.”

a second step—you were waiting on that third curse. that third swear word that would set hell loose in this house, “do you really think you can fool me with that? huh?!”

it hadn’t happened yet. you still had time to think of a plan to perhaps escape this situation. your eyes flickered over to toji, although it didn’t seem like he’d be of any help. of course, he’s just an outsider after all. a stranger whom you just met today.

assassins have already disregarded their heart emotions the moment they decided to go down the path of killing for a living. you wouldn’t even blame toji for not stepping in. you’re also but a stranger to him.

toji could see the glimmer of hope in your eyes when you looked at him. or maybe it was a call for help. a desperate look. he can’t tell the difference. though, what he can tell, is that there was a gnawing feeling in the pits of his stomach. a gut feeling that told him it’d be smart to interfere.

but there’s his rational thoughts that tell him to not get involved—to avoid any more trouble than needed. besides, what other benefits would it bring him if he did? toji doesn’t want to be seen as a hero or saviour by anyone.

his jaw clenches as the time ticks. only a couple seconds left before the cold-hearted assassin has to make a decision.

daisuke’s patience was running low. the tension was increasing and could burst at any given moment now. one wrong move and you’re done—

one wrong breath could result in the worst possible outcome.

your silence spoke volumes to daisuke. the way you held your head low, your eyes that flickered from the floor to the ceiling, your fingers that nervously fumbled with your clothes and your bottom lip that trembled unstoppably. that pissed him off.

everything about you pissed him off. daisuke didn’t see any benefits of having you around anymore. he hadn’t for the long time, however didn’t know how he’d get rid of you.

divorce? no, he’ll have to give some of his earnings to you. kick you out? a possibility, but that would ruin his reputation. blackmail? that option was now the best choice. he’s caught you with another man after all. with camera evidence.

but, daisuke wouldn’t be satisfied with that outcome. his rage was blinding him—more than usual. he has to make you learn your lesson. in a way that will have you begging for your life to be spared.

and thus, the last step was made. the deciding hands were raised—aimed for your neck. the final curse had left his lips;

“come here. i’ll show you how whores like you should be treated.”

killing intent. it was the first time you’ve seen daisuke’s gaze darken that much, his demeanour emotionless yet full of rage. you close your eyes and expect for the worse.

“tha’s enough.”

everything went blank to you. it was silent, your vision was black, your hands were above your head, your heart felt like it wasn’t beating anymore—had you met your end? had you already been murdered?

in that same instant, you could feel drops of liquid splatter on your face. a faint ringing sound in your ears—it sounded like fireworks had been set off. a loud ‘pop’ sound.

something hit the ground right after. it wasn’t your body since that someone or something landed right at your feet.

after that: utter silence.

you gathered all your strength once more and slowly opened your eyelids. your vision was a bit blurry, though the first shape you could make out was one of a man on the ground. and not just any man—it was the man whom you hated most. at your feet.

you would’ve never thought of seeing that image before. of your husband laying at your feet; both literally and figuratively. a red liquid gushed out of his head and soaked into your shoes.

a normal wife would’ve let out a blood hurling scream at the sight of her lover laying lifelessly near her. a normal wife with a healthy relationship, that is.

you did let out a scream at the sight of your husband laying lifelessly near your feet. but that wasn’t done out of panic for your husband’s life—or due to the pain you were in to see him dead.

it was purely because you hadn’t seen a corpse before.

“d-daisuke..?”

a normal wife would’ve called out her husband’s name in a futile attempt that he’d answer back. that all of it was a dream. that her beloved wasn’t dead.

your reason wasn’t anything close to that. you called out that name in hopes he wouldn’t answer back. that all of it wasn’t a dream. that your abuser was dead.

it was real. you were glad, yet extremely disturbed by the fact that there was a corpse at your feet. you didn’t want to see all of it happening—that wasn’t part of the plan.

you stumble back a bit, hands clutching onto the chair you bumped into as you did your best to avoid the gruesome scene before your eyes. you just wished someone would clean the mess as soon as possible.

it’s then that your gaze fell on the other person present in the room; the man who was standing with a gun in his hand. toji scratched his head with the barrel, cold eyes looking down at the corpse with a faintly visible disgusted expression.

the assassin clicks his tongue as he walks towards the lifeless body and puts the sole of his shoe on daisuke’s cheek as if he was stepping on a pile of dirt, moving the head back and forth to check for any possible ounce of life in there.

there was none. the soul had left its body almost instantly after that bullet went through his brain. toji sighs; this time at himself for acting irrationally, “should’ve tortured you to death for tryin’ to put y’r hands on that lady instead of givin’ you the easy way out.”

with a harsh kick to the head on the floor, toji gathers some of his saliva on his tongue before spitting on the man. doubling the disrespect; “consider yourself lucky.”

toji cocked his head to the right. that’s where he spotted you with a familiar look on your face. the expression of someone who just went through a traumatic experience. he’s seen many people react like you when facing a near death experience or when witnessing somebody die before them.

usually, he’d tell them ‘it’s normal, get used to it’ and leave it at that. this was different. it felt different with you.

“are you okay?” the words slipped out of toji’s mouth before he could hold them back. his tone was a mixture of genuine concern and confusion. the latter was due to his own state of mind at the moment.

you didn’t answer, but you put your hands on your mouth as if you were going to puke any moment now. your vision was getting blurry with tears, head spinning and body feeling numb and weird.

toji hesitates before stepping towards you. his hands reached out to hold you, though he stopped them. he’d figured you wouldn’t be comfortable with him touching you in any way or form. he just killed someone in front of you—

it’s not like you cared that it was your husband. that much was clear. you sniff and glance up at toji with such a relieved yet devastated expression that his arms instinctively wrapped around you and pulled you into his warm embrace.

it was an awkward hug since toji doesn’t really know the basics of comforting someone. he was a bit stiff, but you didn’t show any discomfort due to that fact. instead, you clung onto his body and left tear stains on his black shirt.

“shhh, shh. it’s fine. it’s okay.” toji whispers, whilst his big hands indecisively move around, trying to find a spot to rest on. one eventually lands on the back of your head whilst the other starts to slowly rub up and down your spine, “it’s over, yeah? all of it—it’s over.”

toji doesn’t have a clue about the exact details of what your life was like. why you asked him to kill your (now ex-)husband was none of his business. all he knew was that he was going to get paid for it, so he didn’t care what the reason was.

it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed the scars and bruises on your body throughout your conversation either—but that as well—was none of his business. assassins do their job without any further questions. there was no need to have personal connections or relations with their clients.

yet, toji was going against those unspoken rules once more. all because of you. for you.

“thank y—you.” your voice was weak as you speak up. it sounded hoarse and tired, though the sense of gratitude was undeniably there, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

a series of ‘thank you’s’ leave your lips whilst your body and mind were still trying to recover from the whole ordeal. toji was trying his best to keep by your side until you calmed down. that’s the least he could do—after the fact that he singlehandedly got rid of the main problem in your life.

“no need to thank me, lady.” the dark-haired man whispers, allowing you to mess up his shirt with your tears and tugs, “i did what i had to do.”

toji didn’t actually have to do what he did. he never does his job before he’s guaranteed the money. however this time, it was a different story. he did it without thinking. he had to. his body was telling him to move—and in a flash—it was done.

he tries to tell himself that it’s just him slacking off. that he isn’t possibly starting to care about another person. he shouldn’t; those complicated emotions would stand in his way. and yet. . .

“c’mere.”

toji lifts you up bridal style while you keep quivering against his shoulder. his hands had a tight grip on your body, his eyes a sharp gaze on the mess he created. with a sigh, he takes you upstairs to a random room—kicking the door open.

toji carefully puts you back on your feet and guides you to sit on the edge of the kingsized bed. he absentmindedly brushes a few strands of your hair back after wiping some more tears away from your face;

“i know it’s a lot to take in,” toji kneels down before you, looking up with an unreadable expression whilst wiping the tears from your cheeks. his warm palms make contact with your skin and it’s like you’ve forgotten all about what just happened, “but is it okay if ya stay here while i go take care of the rest? i’ll come back once i’m done.”

toji has his own ways of cleaning up after he’s done a job and most likely wants to put one of those techniques to use before any maid or guard comes to check in on the house situation. you sniffle and hiccup afterwards, trying to form a verbal response through your broken sobs, but to no avail.

you simply nod and lean into toji’s calloused hands—such rough and masculine hands—ones that were meant to protect instead of hurt you. you weren’t able to trust men after your marriage, however this one in front of you was unlike any other. even if he may not seem like it on the outside.

his touch was gentle yet firm. the pads of his thumbs swiped the wet skin under your lower eyelashes and you could’ve sworn toji’s gaze had softened for a split second before he caught himself.

he had to stand up, get rid of the mess and leave the place before he got too attached to you. the assassin cannot make such a grave mistake.

“i promise,” toji speaks up after a bit again, standing up after giving you a soft pat against your shoulder, “you’re fine. i’ll be back—ya have my word.”

there he goes; making promises he knows he probably can’t keep. ‘i’ll be back’, will he? he can’t. for your own safety. he has to treat you as just another client. none of what he did in this house could be spoken of anymore.

he slipped up this once. it needn’t to happen again. money. he does his jobs for money—when he obtains the money. he doesn’t kill his targets for the sake of others, for the protection of others.

he doesn’t kill for love.

toji wishes that all of this had never happened, because he knows that his heart will lead him back to you at the end of the day. he knows he won’t leave once he cleans up the mess downstairs. he’ll come right back to you.

and you have faith in that. you trust this stranger whom had practically saved your life with just one shot.

“i don’t know how to repay you.. thank you.” you manage to mutter through shallow breaths. you stare at the back of toji’s head as he makes his way to the door. he stops in his tracks to reply to your comment.

he stands still at the doorway and looks over his shoulder at you—the scarred corner of his lips twitching;

“prepare the money. tha’s how you can repay me.” toji replies and you don’t know if he’s joking or being serious because of that little grin on his face. a breathy chuckle follows and then the assassin disappears.

the door closes and you’re left alone in this space. left alone in the silence of the home that had treated you as its prisoner. you remember how your husband used to lock you up in your bedroom whenever you had done something to piss him off; taking away your freedom by keeping you in a room.

now it’s yours—your life is yours. you’ve fully gained your freedom back and can decide what to do for yourself. it seems like a foreign situation, a foreign world, a foreign concept; you can now actually do whatever your heart desires. without any restraints.

“what is a successful marriage?”

well, to you, it’s one with a satisfactory ending.

🏷️ : @satoruhour @squicksquak @omgeto @xmintpie @cursingtoji @obsidiannero @elmoees @x1aosg1rl @fushironi @ceceher @ajax1230 @toji-is-hot @jayugh @rinshoe @sligerate @satoryaa @luveblad3 @happystrawberrytyrant @ezraiix

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #toji x you #jjk fic #jjk x y/n #toji fushiguro x reader #i tried my best :#:(…

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artsekey · 3 months

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I'd been seeing videos on Tiktok and Youtube about how younger Gen Z & Gen Alpha were demonstrating low computer literacy & below benchmark reading & writing skills, but-- like with many things on the internet-- I assumed most of what I read and watched was exaggerated. Hell, even if things were as bad as people were saying, it would be at least ~5 years before I started seeing the problem in higher education.

I was very wrong.

Of the many applications I've read this application season, only %6 percent demonstrated would I would consider a college-level mastery of language & grammar. The students writing these applications have been enrolled in university for at least two years, and have taken all fundamental courses. This means they've had classes dedicated to reading, writing, and literature analysis, and yet!

There are sentences I have to read over and over again to discern intent. Circular arguments that offer no actual substance. Errors in spelling and capitalization that spellcheck should've flagged.

At a glance, it's easy to trace this issue back to two things:

The state of education in the United States is abhorrent. Instructors are not paid enough, so schools-- particularly public schools-- take whatever instructors they can find.

COVID. The two year long gap in education, especially in high school, left many students struggling to keep up.

But I think there's a third culprit-- something I mentioned earlier in this post. A lack of computer literacy.

This subject has been covered extensively by multiple news outlets like the Washington Post and Raconteur, but as someone seeing it firsthand I wanted to add my voice to the rising chorus of concerned educators begging you to pay attention.

As the interface we use to engage with technology becomes more user friendly, the knowledge we need to access our files, photos, programs, & data becomes less and less important. Why do I need to know about directories if I can search my files in Windows (are you searching in Windows? Are you sure? Do you know what that bar you're typing into is part of? Where it's looking)? Maybe you don't have any files on your computer at all-- maybe they're on the cloud through OneDrive, or backed up through Google. Some of you reading this may know exactly where and how your files are stored. Many of you probably don't, and that's okay. For most people, being able to access a file in as short a time as possible is what they prioritize.

The problem is, when you as a consumer are only using a tool, you are intrinsically limited by the functions that tool is advertised to have. Worse yet, when the tool fails or is insufficient for what you need, you have no way of working outside of that tool. You'll need to consult an expert, which is usually expensive.

When you as a consumer understand a tool, your options are limitless. You can break it apart and put it back together in just the way you like, or you can identify what parts of the tool you need and search for more accessible or affordable options that focus more on your specific use-case.

The problem-- and to be clear, I do not blame Gen Z & Gen Alpha for what I'm about to outline-- is that this user-friendly interface has fostered a culture that no longer troubleshoots. If something on the computer doesn't work well, it's the computer's fault. It's UI should be more intuitive, and it it's not operating as expected, it's broken. What I'm seeing more and more of is that if something's broken, students stop there. They believe there's nothing they can do. They don't actively seek out solutions, they don't take to Google, they don't hop on Reddit to ask around; they just... stop. The gap in knowledge between where they stand and where they need to be to begin troubleshooting seems to wide and inaccessible (because the fundamental structure of files/directories is unknown to many) that they don't begin.

This isn't demonstrative of a lack of critical thinking, but without the drive to troubleshoot the number of opportunities to develop those critical thinking skills are greatly diminished. How do you communicate an issue to someone online? How do look for specific information? How do you determine whether that information is specifically helpful to you? If it isn't, what part of it is? This process fosters so many skills that I believe are at least partially linked to the ability to read and write effectively, and for so many of my students it feels like a complete non-starter.

We need basic computer classes back in schools. We need typing classes, we need digital media classes, we need classes that talk about computers outside of learning to code. Students need every opportunity to develop critical thinking skills and the ability to self-reflect & self correct, and in an age of misinformation & portable technology, it's more important now than ever.

#computers #pc #digital #rant #something something planned obsolescence

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strawberrysturniolo · 4 months

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someone older pt 2 // chris sturniolo

summary: after chris and his new photographer have a successful first shoot, they struggle with the idea of them being able to have a professional relationship. teasing, degrading, spanking, rough sex, age gap, daddy kink, secret relationship.

part one

The long awaited Fresh Love drop was a success. So much so that Chris called me, thanking me profusely for my addition to the project. He went on to say that he “hopes we can work together again,” but part of me knows there’s something more to it.

The last time he was here, we made out and took a variety of photos during the act.

He wound up getting a phone call from his manager, putting a hold in our activities.

I’m not sure where that would have led us, had she not called and he had to leave. I don’t think it would have gone further. I don’t know if I would have allowed it.

It was fun in the moment, and I certainly don’t regret it. The only issue is that now with me staring at a new message from Chris about a future shoot, I have to make sure that we’re in agreement of this being simply work, not pleasure in any way.

Chris

Thanks again for the last session. I got amazing feedback from everyone. I wanted to send a message and ask you if you had time this week to do another shoot? That was kind of a test run of what pieces people might like, but now that we have more colors I need to get some more shots in them. Lmk when you’re free

Call me.

I set my phone down on my kitchen counter, trying to let the memories of him sucking my jaw flee my brain. He paid really well, but he was really great to work with, so if kissing him a little while I have fun working with him helps… then what’s the harm?

No, there’s so much harm in this.

My phone rings almost immediately after the message is sent. I hesitate answering, but realize how bad it would look if I didn’t pick up the phone after I just sent a message asking for him to call.

“Hey,” I greet him casually.

“Hey. I assume this is to follow up my message?” he asks.

I find myself pacing around my kitchen, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, but Chris–”

“But?” he cuts in. “There’s but’s now?”

I pause. “What’s wrong with there being a but?”

“This isn’t a work type but,” he goes on. “This is a ‘there’s an issue between you and me’ type but.”

I don’t respond.

“Is there?” he asks, noticing my silence.

“No. Maybe? I don’t know Chris. What I do know is that I did enjoy working with you and I’m glad the drop was what you hoped for–”

“More than what I hoped for,” he interrupts me again. “That happened because of you.”

“Maybe that’s true but if you want to keep working with me then what happened last time can’t happen again,” I say confidently, really trying to convince myself of the same.

I can picture him searching for the words to say. He settles on, “Why?”

I wish I had a better answer. “Part of it just feels wrong.”

“What about it feels wrong? I kissed you. You kissed me back. We did that together. We talked about it afterwards. We said it was good and we were glad it happened.”

“I know,” I nod to myself. I got myself in too deep. “I’m five years older than you, and this is a workplace relationship. This shouldn’t have happened. It’s highly unprofessional and it makes me look bad as an artist.”

“This relationship is also two sided,” he refutes again. “Why do you get to make the calls and decide what’s right and wrong if I was involved in it too?”

Okay… This guy might be more mature than I was led to believe.

“I mean,” he continues. “I could get in trouble too, you know? If my manager found out I was kissing all over my new photographer, I’d be toast. She’d insist on me finding someone else no matter how successful our shoots are. So if you don’t want to shoot with me anymore then fine, but if it’s because you can’t handle a little tension here and there then there’s something deeper that you need to resolve on your own.”

Part of that cuts deep until I’m suddenly stitched back up and determined to prove a point to him. Maybe this Chris Sturniolo is a fling kind of guy. Maybe he has the power over his own feelings to be able to disguise when he’s into someone, but I’m not able to do the same. It’s written on my face, and the last thing I need is for this guy five years younger than me to win this argument.

So game on.

“Come over tonight. Bring your gear and I’ll start setting up now.”

His voice is laced with a cocky tone. I can picture the smirk on his face. “I thought you’d say that.”

The rest of the day passes as I set up my studio with backdrops I spray painted a few days ago. This time, decorated with dark blue splatter designs and graffiti. In a daze and my mind wrapped around all things Chris, I graffitied the words ‘Fresh Love,’ which he went on to compliment upon arrival.

“I’m glad you came around,” he added. “They liked the shots of us together, and I didn’t want to have to search for another model for it if you were right here.”

I nod, trying to have my best poker face as if my eyes aren’t following his every move. “Stand on the X.”

He goes to his place with a smile, knowing my routine now. “Ah, test shots, huh? You do these every time?”

“Wouldn’t miss them,” I respond shortly.

He must have noticed that I’m trying to keep this as business as possible, seeing how he started making every fucking face he could to somehow turn me on. The most seductive smirks, hands in his hair, pulling his shirt a certain way so some of his skin would show more on his stomach.

I hate him.

I need more.

“The lighting is good,” I say as I stand up straight, setting the camera to its flush settings. “Do what feels natural, just like last time.”

He smiles. “If I wanted things to be like last time then you’d be in front of the camera with me.”

I suck in a deep breath. “If you behave then maybe I’ll join you.”

That shuts him up as he starts posing for me. Eventually he asks, “Can I take this sweatshirt off now? Or are we still looking for a good shot?”

I shake my head. “I think we got it. We can do some without now.”

He peels his sweatshirt off, letting it stay stuck to his shirt he wears below it, allowing it to peel up in unison and reveal his stomach and chest. The minimal but dark hairs that decorate his lower stomach give me far too much to imagine as I stare at him. I want to see more of him, and I want those clothes gone. I’m aching for him, and he’s using it to his advantage.

“You taking pictures of my clothes or my body, baby?”

I snap out of it, brought back to him at the sound of the pet name.

The name ‘baby’ leaving his lips almost has me buckling at the knees.

He pulls his bottom lip between his lips, then glances between me and his own shirt. He peels his shirt off, standing bare from the waist up in front of me, dressed now in only his gray sweatpants representing his brand. Even those hang lower and give me too much to think about.

“Put this on and stand in front of the camera,” he instructs, tossing me the shirt as he switches positions with me. “Don’t worry… I’ll turn around while you change.”

For some stupid reason I find myself listening to him. I swap my shirt for his brand, standing on the center point of the camera and allowing him to get comfortable behind it.

He looks through the viewfinder at me, studying the shot before he snaps the moment. “Beautiful,” he mumbles, standing up straight again and smiling. He cocks his head to the side. “Now lose the pants.”

“Chris…” I start to say, but he has more.

“It’s just me and you,” he assures me. “Plus, this is your camera. I have no access to this. If you really don’t want to then fine, but I promise, no one will see these besides me.”

His eyes stare into mine with a determination that says, ‘You know you want it.’

And I fucking do.

Maintaining eye contact, I unbutton my jeans and pull them off my legs slowly, tossing them to the side and standing in front of him in his own shirt and a pair of dark red panties, a thong that hugs my hips in the right way and makes my ass look like his new favorite thing.

He licks his lips, swallowing as he steps back in front of the camera, trying to bite his tongue to keep from making a certain sound or saying something foul.

I want to know what’s going on in that head of his, but I refuse to ask and act interested even if I am.

I start to take control, letting myself feel more comfortable standing in front of him half naked. I start lifting the shirt little by little as he takes more photos, the click satisfying me even more when my back is to him, my ass on full display.

“Fuck,” he sighs. “That’s it.”

My stomach is turning in the best way at every compliment, every look, every sound that leaves his mouth. He isn’t doing his best at hiding his physical reaction either, seeing that his dick is now pressed to the sweatpants around his waist.

“You okay back there?” I tease, now smiling.

“Shut up,” he warns.

I let my body relax. “Business professional, remember?”

He scoffs. “Yeah, fuck that.”

I give him a glaring look. “Chris.”

“Don’t say my name.” My stomach almost falls until he continues. “Not when you look like that and I’m trying to keep it in my pants. Do not say my name.”

My smile grows as I step closer. “So you don’t want me, Chris?”

His eyes fall shut.

“You’re saying you don’t need me, Chris?”

He takes a deep breath, lets it out, and grits out, “Fuck. This.”

He pulls me aside from the camera, his lips finding mine as I take my hands to his hair, finishing where we left off. A soft moan leaves my lips as his dick presses against my thigh.

“Yeah,” he nods. “You did want me.”

I nod desperately back at him. “Really bad.”

“Mmmm,” he hums, kissing my neck. “You can have me right now, you know?”

I have a mental battle with myself while I’m in his arms, and then without thinking clearly I’m pulling him to my bedroom despite the voice in my head shouting for me to leave this alone.

I need relief, and he is exactly the painkiller I want.

He follows me blindly, refusing to detach his hands from my skin. I can’t get enough of him. He’s grabbing my ass, feeling my everywhere, teasing his leg in between mine. His thigh presses against my core, earning a gasp from me as I sit on the edge of the bed.

“Poor baby,” he pouts, pushing me back onto the mattress.

I lift my arms for him, giving him access to the underside of my shirt, lifting it off with ease. My hands find the desperation he is trying to satisfy, a pleased groan leaving his throat at my touch.

“Looks like someone was struggling too, huh?” I notice. My hand makes soft movements over his length, stopping when his hand juts out and grabs it.

He lowers his gaze to meet mine, our faces now level as I sit on the bed and he kneels in front of it.

“I’ve fantasized about you touching me and sucking me off, but I haven’t gotten a clear idea of what you look like with your ass up, or what your pussy feels like around me. So you wanna show me what it’s like?”

I’m ready to do anything he wants no matter how eager it makes me look.

Yet I can’t find the words that convey this.

I nod again. His hand grips my jaw as he pushes his mouth back to mine, shoving my body back onto the mattress in the process. He pins me down, grinding his hips into mine and teasing me with his cock before huffing out a breath and flipping me over. He lifts me by my hips, keeping my ass in the air for him.

“You gonna be able to take me with no foreplay? Nothing but my dick fucking you senseless, baby?” he whispers, pushing my shirt up – his shirt – and kissing down my back in between words.

“Yes, Chris,” I give in.

He tsks. “Don’t say my name. You know what you want to say. It’s on the tip of your tongue.”

Is he serious?

Because if he is… fuck this business relationship. I’ll need him in my bed every night.

I must have taken too long to respond. His palm smacks against my ass, demanding a response.

I wince. “Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he says softly as he rubs his fingers where I was just spanked, soothing the pain.

He kisses over the spot as he pulls my thong to the side. He then dips his head between my legs from behind, licking a harsh stripe on my folds. He hums in pleasure.

“Fuck, you taste so good.” His finger rubs over that same spot. “Gonna have to taste you after I fill you up and see how good we taste together.”

Without realizing, I back my ass up to him, so much so that he smacks my ass again.

“Needy girls get nothing,” he warns, and I find myself apologizing profusely.

There is no way this kid five years younger than me is having this much control. There’s no way I put myself in this position.

The tip of his dick teases at my slit, swiping it a few times before pushing in and pulling right back out. “So tight.” He does the same motion a few more times before shoving in completely, moaning loudly as he lays his chest on my back, tucking his head in my neck. His lips suck on the spot that has me gripping my sheets as he fills me up. His hips start thrusting into me, his hips railing into my ass as he fucks me mercilessly. The sound is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. Me dripping wet while he fucks himself deeper. His skin slapping against mine while my bed shakes, trying to hold us.

“Taking it so good baby,” he mumbles in my ear. He slaps my ass again, keeping his mouth close to my ear so he can talk me through it. “You like it rough, huh? Don’t you, you fucking slut?”

I whine at the name. “Uh huh.”

His fingers dig into my sides as he drills himself as deep as he can.

“FUCK– Yes, daddy,” I correct myself. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re so bad, baby,” he shakes his head in my neck. “Bratty as hell.”

I lower myself to my elbows, now unable to keep myself propped up the way he wanted me originally. He brings himself back up to his knees, fucking me at this new position. He speeds up, smacking my ass every so often, enough to where I can feel heat radiating off of it from the friction of his hand on my skin.

He continues to mock and degrade me, talking me through everything before his hips start thrusting erratically.

My hand reaches behind me, clinging to his wrist as I look at him over my shoulder. The nerves building inside of me are struggling to hold on. I feel like I’m going to break. “Daddy, I’m-”

His eyes go wide as my mouth drops. Watching my face as I cum, Chris’ hips still, his dick deep inside of me as my pussy grips him. His lips part, eliciting a loud whine. I cum around him, and it’s only a moment later that I can feel him filling me up.

I lower my face to a pillow, trying to regain my breath and any strength left in me. Chris pulls out after a few seconds, fulfilling his promise and cleaning up our mess between my legs. I let out a few weak moans, too wiped to make much noise.

He lays next to me, sweat on his forehead causing a few hairs by his ears to stick out straight, losing the natural curl in them and replacing them with a spiky style.

“So,” he says, his breath lost. “Business professional from now on?”

tag list: @freshloveforthefit @lacysturniolo @mattitties @floofparker @javalakers @creamoncreamoncream2 @heebiejeebiezz @sturnswrites @runupthathillgirl @gdsvhtwa @666hellokitty420 @runupthathillgirl @oliviasturniolo21 @keira324 @sstvrnioloo @sturnitup @sturnsvoid @theyluv-meee @therewilljustbereputationts13 @ilovedasturniolos @dancemomsfanee @rootbeerworshiper @sturn3ol0 @swaggygirlboss123 @lustfulslxt

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo #sturniolo smut

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 5 months

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Kinkmas (12)- Christmas Morning

Wanda X Natasha X Reader 18+

Summary: Waking up on Christmas, you can't help but stay in bed with your girlfriends, deciding that the presents could wait a little longer.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, Domesticity, Christmas, Polyamory, Threesome, Soft Smut, Dom Wanda/Switch Natasha/Sub Reader, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Praise

A/N- This chapter is set a couple days after the 'Naughty Or Nice?' chapter :) And Merry Christmas!

Kinkmas Masterlist | Part 2

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A gentle tapping against the pane of the window drew you out of your peaceful slumber, tired eyes fluttering open and searching for the source of noise, gaze eventually landing on the small gap in the windows. Gentle streaks of light spilled into the room that was filled with tranquillity and love, your tired eyes unblurring and watching as delicate flakes gracefully fell from the sky, creating a blur of infinitely repetitive white as the outside world was drowned in the winter weather, your body relishing in the warmth of your bed.

Your mind slowly processed that the warmth wasn't provided by the sheer amount of duvet you had wrapped around you but the two bare bodies that were pressed against you, gentle breaths tickling your skin as you relaxed further against the bodies, a contented sigh carefully falling from your lips.

Gradually, your brain started to wake up, remembering the intimate events of last night which lead to the three of you being naked in bed, their soft and sensual sighs filling your mind, the feeling of lingering touches burning into your skin, the pleasure that wracked through your body creating another throb between your thighs as you remember the highs you experienced last night, a small smile toying at the corner of your lips as you tear your gaze away from the spectacle outside, turning to the woman opposite you.

Natasha's face, even whilst asleep, was one of the most beautiful sights you had ever seen, your eyes holding nothing but love and awe in them as you let your gaze slowly travel across her features, making sure to admire them all in as much detail as you could, memorising each and every little intricate part of her beauty. Her red locks somehow still framed her face perfectly, emitting a divine quality from her as her soft and pale skin practically glowed with the little light in the room, your fingers itching to brush over the impossibly smooth skin but refraining from doing so as she looked so peaceful. Instead, you let your gaze drift to her eyes, watching as her eyelashes fluttered slightly with whatever was happening in her mind before travelling lower to the gentle slope of her nose, the way it delicately curved at the end, encouraging your gaze to drop even lower to her plump lips, your mind remembering how soft and addictive they were. Once you had paid attention to her face for long enough, deciding you had appreciated each angelic feature, your eyes casted down to the skin of her neck, a fain mark from last night still visible making you smirk at your work, eyes lowering even further to her chest before dropping once again, noticing how it was her leg that was slotted in between yours, both of her hands also within sight answering your next question.

Wanda's arms were snaked around your middle, the pads of her fingers brushing over the skin of your lower abdomen as her breath fanned across the back of your neck, her brunette locks splaying across the pillow her head rested on, your body subtly pushing back further against hers, wanting to feel her somehow even closer. In doing so, you accidentally woke the witch up, her green eyes slowly adjusting to her surroundings as she secures her grip around your middle, snuggling her body closer to yours as her lips meet the base of your neck and your bare shoulder, a smile playing on her lips as she can hear the amount of flustered thoughts filling your mind as it casts back to last night once again, a small chuckle leaving her.

"Morning Detka," she whispers, her voice quiet as to not disturb the spy who still soundlessly slept, a rasp accommodating the brunette's voice from having just woken up, resulting in her accent becoming more prominent and further increasing the throb that started to build between your thighs.

"Morning Wands," you murmur back softly, hands sliding down your body to reach her hands, carefully prying her fingers off your skin to interlock your fingers, squeezing her hand comfortingly as you feel her press another kiss to your shoulder, your smile stretching that little bit wider.

"Did you sleep well, Detka?" Her tone is barely above a whisper as you occupy yourself with her hands, tracing her digits absentmindedly as you think about how powerful yet gentle her hands could be, how loving her touch always was.

"Mhmm," you hum out in response, confirming you slept well quietly as you didn't not want to accidentally speak too loud and disturb Natasha, your fingers moving to her fingertips, feeling the smooth pads under your touch before you let your fingers drag across her palm and over to the back of her hands, caressing her knuckles repeatedly.

It seems that, despite your hushed voices, it was still enough to stir the spy next to you, an apologetic smile taking over your face as a drowsy sighs escapes her, emerald slowly being revealed to you as her eyes flutter open, her body stretching next to yours and shuffling closer, a small, tired smile playing on her lips as a satisfied groan leaves her when her back cracks pleasantly.

"Morning Krasotka, morning Malyshka," Natasha rasps out, Russian accent lacing her words heavily as she wakes up gradually, her eyes meeting both of yours as Wanda props her head on your shoulder, the spy inevitably moving closer so she could press a chaste kiss to both of your lips, her head soon dropping back to the soft pillow as she gazes lovingly at your both.

"Merry Christmas," you murmur to the two other women as Natasha's fingers cup your cheek delicately, fingers brushing over the warm surface of your pint tinted skin, a little amused at how flustered you already were. You'd forever get butterflies in their presence.

They both wish a merry Christmas into the soft, tranquil atmosphere, your chest full of warmth and love at the way Natasha looks at you, her gaze drifting over your features, admiring you in the same way you did to her earlier.

"Do you want to go and see if Santa came last night?" Wanda playfully teases, earning a huff of laughter from Natasha while you chuckle quietly, happiness engraved on all of your faces as the witch and assassin shared a look between themselves, curious as to if they needed to set their surprise up yet.

"I think presents can wait a little longer," you mutter out softly, your lips tugging up into another smile, the expression seemingly never leaving your lips, "I wanna spend some more time in bed with my girlfriends." You miss the way they share another knowing look at your words, Natasha's alluring green drifting to your eyes, captivating every ounce of your attention as mischief swirls in her various shades of green, her head tilting closer to yours, lips ghosting your own.

"Is that so?" she husks out, her voice still low from waking up, creating a delicious and arousing rasp to adorn her voice, heat naturally taking over you at the sound. When your mouth parts to respond and nothing comes out, Wanda further torments your thoughts as her tone is similar to the Russian's: intoxicating.

"What did you plan on doing in bed, Detka? Hmm?" The witch purrs at the shell of your ear, her fingers sliding down your body in a suggestive way, nails scratching gently into your hip bone as a shaky breath escapes you, Natasha's lips somehow moving even closer to yours, barely brushing them but not applying enough pressure to give you the satisfaction of a kiss.

"I..." you trail off when you feel Wanda's fingers press into the skin of your inner thighs, her smirk growing as she feels you try to squeeze them together to relieve the heat building between them, her eyes trained on the way Natasha teases you with her lips.

"You?" Natasha pushes, her hand gliding down your body in a tantalising manner, goosebumps rising where her fingers brushes, muscles twitching under her touch as you gradually learn how to function again.

"I wanted to thank you both for last night," you eventually manage out, your hand moving to Natasha's perfect curves, caressing her beautifully sculpted body and slowly going lower, building in confidence as she tilts her head once again, letting your lips brush for an innocent kiss. "Consider it another present," you playfully whisper in an attempt to ease your pounding heart, the feeling of Wanda's fingers drifting closer to your core making it extremely hard to think, mind fogging with arousal.

Leaning in, you finally slot your lips over Natasha's, a sensual sigh leaving you both at the feeling of your soft lips pressing against each other, your fingers digging into her waist to ground yourself. You're sure the woman opposite you can feel your heart beating wildly in your chest as she arches her back, pushing her breasts into yours and making your head spin, her lips expertly moving over yours, successfully stealing your breath away.

The kiss remains tender, soft, and intimate despite your fingers sinfully grazing over her abdomen and lower, drifting to between her thighs as you gasp into her mouth, Wanda's fingers having slid to your core, spreading your slick around your throbbing sex, smirking against your shoulder as she peppers kisses against your burning skin, relishing in the way your mind races with lewd thoughts.

"Krasotka," Natasha sighs out and fuck, you weren't prepared to hear such a breathy moan from her when your finger merely grazed over her clit, your finger swiping through her folds and coating your digit in her arousal as her legs spread a little for you, welcoming your pleasing touch. Your lips both linger open against one another as the kiss momentarily breaks, the two of you softly moaning as Wanda drags her finger through your folds and eventually reaches your clit, teasingly circling it at a torturous pace, feeling your hips ever so gently rock against her hand as a wave of pleasure courses through you. You mirror the brunette's actions and do the same to Natasha, slowly growing in confidence as you circle her clit, one of her hands moving to your cheek again, bringing you back in for a kiss, needing to feel your addictive lips pressed to hers as she deepens it.

Wanda can't help but watch in awe as lust and desire creeps into the kiss, Natasha sliding her tongue into your mouth and effortlessly dominating it, the witch able to see the way your tongues lewdly slide against one another, hear the quiet wet noise as you delve back in for kiss after kiss, the soft moans that escape you as she lets the pad of her finger brush perfectly over your sensitive core, pleasure clouding your sane thoughts.

"Fuck, Wanda," you groan into the redhead's mouth, the Russian nipping your lower lip before sucking on it partly, dragging another restrained noise out of you as the witch's finger moves to your entrance, your body turning slightly in her arms to make the position more comfortable for you both. "Please," you plead while Natasha muffles your desperate noise with her eager mouth, Wanda purposely teasing your entrance, enjoying the way your hips roll against her slender digits.

"So desperate already," Wanda murmurs at the shell of your ear, her eyes meeting the darkened green opposite her as Natasha pulls back from the messy kiss, panting slightly as your uneven breath fans across her skin, her gaze drifting between the two of you before pushing her body up slightly to claim the witch's mouth, a moan leaving you at the sight of them.

You're mesmerised by the sight, their sharp jawlines on display as their tongues messily meet, sinful sounds filling the room as they refuse to part, giving you a show to drive you mad. Natasha bites down on Wanda's lower lip teasingly before dragging it down, causing the witch to retaliate and delve in for a more passionate kiss, lust swiftly taking over them both as Wanda decides to thrust her finger into you, smirking into the redhead's mouth at your submissive reaction, Natasha's mind consumed by the both of you, her usual composure crumbling a little.

"Krasotka, I need you," she groans into Wanda's mouth as your fingers still explore her wet sex, teasing her entrance a little before returning to her clit, swirling your finger over it to drag out another noise out of her as her hip subtly bucks against you, Wanda's smirk growing, always amazed at when Natasha starts to grow desperate.

"Come on Detka, give Nat what she wants," Wanda rasps out, breaking off the kiss with the spy and letting you tilt your head to crash your lips to hers, not caring about the dull strain in your neck as her intoxicating mouth meets yours, knocking all sense out of your mind as all you could focus on was the two women surrounding you. "Slide your finger in Detka, that's it," the witch's voice is criminally sinful, you and the redhead moaning at her words as you obediently do as she says, sliding your finger in and groaning into the witch's mouth at how warm and wet Natasha was around your digit, her walls clenching around you as warmth pools at her lower abdomen, her eyes unable to tear away from the way Wanda dominates your mouth.

Your helpless under the witch's control, her toying with your body as you whimper into her mouth, her digit curling inside you at your weak spot, Natasha also moaning as you thrust your finger into her a little faster, eager to make her feel just as good as she made you feel last night.

A sensual sigh spills from Natasha's lips as you curl your finger perfectly inside her, her hips grinding against your hand, causing your palm to brush her clit and send more jolts of pleasure through her as Wanda parts from your lips, motioning for you to claim the spy's lips once again.

The tenderness and intimate touch to your kiss has gone, desire taking over completely as it's a messy clash of lips, teeth and tongue as you whine into her mouth at the way Wanda teases a second finger at your entrance, her digits thoroughly coated in your arousal before easing them in.

"Wanda," you gasp out at the stretch of her second slender finger inside you, her skilful hands working your body up, teetering you on the edge of your release as her eyes watch the way your eyes squeeze close in pleasure, your fingers slowing down in the redhead as you get lost in desire.

"Keep going Detka," she encourages, watching the way the muscles in your forearm flex slightly as you finger the redhead, they spy's free hand moving to your chest, thumb and index finger rolling your sensitive nipple before pinching softly, dragging a desperate noise out of you, her smirking into the kiss at your submissive noise. "That's a good girl," the witch praises sinfully, another desperate noise leaving you as you thrust your finger into the redhead at a steady pace, her moans growing a little louder, signalling how her release was creeping up on her, the less controlled movements of her hips also giving it away. "I want to see Nat come all over your fingers, can you do that for me Detka?" Wanda purrs and fuck. There's no way you'd ever recover from the filth that left her lips.

"Wanda," Natasha moans in response, lips parting to gasp into your eager mouth, fingers moving expertly inside her, curling them and thrusting them in the way you knew made the spy weak, her hand moving to your waist, nails pressing into your curves as she tries to ground herself. "I- fuck," she chokes out, a moan interrupting her as your palm perfectly brushes against her clit, hips bucking desperately.

"Are you close, Dorogaya?" Wanda rasps out teasingly, Natasha's eyes firmly squeezed shut as yours take in her state, lips kiss swollen and pleasure written across her face, the sight of seeing the Russian submit a rare occurrence, one you craved to see.

"Yes, please," she groans out, lolling her head back marginally, encouraging you to attach your lips to her creamy skin, teeth scraping over her warm skin to send a shiver of arousal down her spine, a moan from you muffled against her skin as Wanda keeps her merciless pace with you, a smirk permanently engraved on the witch's face.

"Come for us," Wanda commands and the moan that leaves Natasha is nothing but desperate and unrestrained, the sound going straight between your thighs, walls clenching around the brunette's fingers, heat flooding through your body. With a final curl of your fingers, Natasha is sent tumbling into her powerful release, waves of pleasure consuming her entirely as she pants out both of your names, body tensing against you.

Your lips pepper soft kisses against her skin, trailing up the smooth skin of her neck and along her jaw, ragged breaths leaving you as Wanda still doesn't ease up, eager to see you come undone as well, her lips meeting the corner of your lips, enticing you into tilting your head to meet her captivating mouth, entranced by her.

"Are you close too, Detka?" she hums out tauntingly into your mouth, your fingers pulling out of the redhead as she gently pushes away your hand from her sensitive core, her fingers deftly wrapping around your wrist and guiding your hand up, Wanda breaking the kiss of with you to let the redhead slide your fingers into the witch's mouth to get a taste of her cum coating your digits, Wanda groaning around you which has your mind spinning.

"Fuck," is all you manage out, both you and Natasha watching awe at how Wanda hollows her cheeks around your digits, the sight fogging your mind as she continues to push you towards your inevitable release. "Yes, please let me come," you beg, engrossed at the way she swirls her tongue around your finger, moaning at the taste of Natasha before pulling back, your digit sliding out of her mouth as her lips move to crash to yours, giving you a taste as well.

"Come for Wanda, Krasotka," Natasha rasps out at the shell of your ear as Wanda's tongue slides lewdly into your mouth, a broken moan being torn out of you at the amount of arousal and desire that flooded through your body.

Pleasure crashed through as soon as the words left her lips, your thighs closing around Wanda's hands as her fingers thrusted into you, prolonging the pleasure that consumed you entirely, your body trembling in between them as your vision practically blurs with ecstasy, euphoria filling every inch of you.

You pant out their names desperately as your hips roll against her hand, body twitching as you ride out each wave of pleasure, your moans growing quieter as you experience the aftershocks of your powerful release, body going limp against the bed and into Wanda's embrace, Natasha moving closer and placing a small kiss to your cheek as Wanda slows her relentless mouth.

They listened to every soft pant that left you as you tried to recover, Wanda sliding her fingers out of you and apologetically kissing your temple when you whine, her fingers immediately going towards the redhead who craved to taste you, her mirroring the actions Wanda did earlier and sliding her tongue around her digits. You managed to open your eyes to watch as Wanda slide her fingers out of the spy's mouth, the two of them kissing each other softly before Wanda eventually pulled back, moving to lay behind you more comfortably and pull you into her arms, your body rolling to hide your face at the crook of her neck.

Natasha moved her body so that she was spooning you, arms wrapping around your middle from behind as you snuggled closer to Wanda's warmth, fingers reaching down to play with the Russian's fingers, an onrush of affection flowing through you at their tender actions.

"You were such a good girl for us," Wanda praises quietly, other soft and delicate words spilling from both of their lips as they cuddle into your body, the warmth of both of their bodies lulling you into a peaceful and relaxed state, your breath tickling the witch's neck.

After a comfortable silence of simply just relishing in the intimacy of the moment, Natasha's body slips away from the two of you, a sound of protest leaving your lips at the lack of physical touch, her lips merely pressing against your temple as she finds the three of you some clothes to wear, her eyes meeting the witch's to talk silently within her mind, a smile growing on both of their faces.

Their smiles only grow when you're reluctant to part from the embrace with Wanda, the witch persuading you to get change with the idea of the presents under the tree, your body eventually moving to slip on your underwear and the matching set of pyjama pants you convinced the other two women to get with you.

"Let's go open the presents," Natasha murmurs whilst pressing another soft kiss to your temple, nerves and excitement bubbling within her and the brunette at the thought of the small box that was wrapped under the tree with your name on it.

It wasn't long now...

---

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it on the 24th! I hope you all have an amazing day!

To those who celebrate it tomorrow, Merry Christmas too! I'm hoping to have the second part of this chapter out tomorrow as a mini present (It will be a fluffy drabble) but it all depends on if I can write it in time as I had to finish writing this chapter today 😅

I also want to thank everyone for all the support I've had over the last 12 days and I really hope you have all enjoyed Kinkmas! <3 It honestly means so much to me that you're all so kind and supportive of my work :)

#wanda maximoff #marvel fanfiction #wanda x reader #eventual smut #wanda fanfic #wanda x you #mommy wanda #smut #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natahsa romanoff #natasha fanfic #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader

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pedgito · 6 months

Text

𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 (AU) — Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Summary: I made a joke about wanting to screw dirt-covered Joel even if he was deep in the trenches of hell and...well, yeah. This is pure filth and nothing else. Porn with minuscule plot, if you will | beta'd by @planet-marz1 & @beskarandblasters.

Word Count & Warnings: 6k | 18+, fem!reader, demon!joel, no specific age gap since dude is a literal demon, but reader is early 20s and I picture Joel to be his younger self (around 36), mentions of su*cidal ideations, this all a completely made up concept pls don't come for me about rituals, ect i will cry. virgin!reader, reader's father is a priest and horrible (just a total douche)/mother isn't alive, spitting, oral, unprotected piv, blood drinking, competency kink, innocence kink, mutual masturbation, if i missed anything let me know!

Heaven forbid you end up in a situation like this.

No, literally. Heaven specifically forbids it.

You’ve done the research, the hours and hours of scavenging online in search of the proper offerings, the right way to to complete this…ritual.

It’s foreign and completely out of your element.

As if anyone was familiar with this, beside the defunct group of people that completed these rituals for entertainment but were very swiftly ran out of town, though you’re sure they lay dormant somewhere.

You weren’t sure if any of them were attempting to summon demons to make deals with either, but here you were.

Standing at a dark and lonely crossroads in your hometown, on your knees, begging for anyone to answer your pleas.

Not prayers—nothing like that.

You check and double-check the carefully drawn sigils, recounting the incantation in your head to make sure you said it right, knowing that everything you buried in the small dirt pile in the ground was what was required. Even ripped off the cross necklace your father had gifted you as a child and threw it in a nearby field, not wanting to take any chances.

Maybe this was pointless, hoping on a whim that all those stories were true, that there were other forces at play. Good or evil, it didn’t matter.

Your naivety was showing, the blade held tightly in your left hand was shaking and you thought maybe…just a small drop, maybe it would help.

And you’re almost breaking skin when there’s a solid woosh behind you, the cold draft goosebumping your bare skin, knowing this dress was a mistake, once pristine and white now matted with spatterings of dirt and filth.

“Oh my,” The voice singsongs low from over your shoulder, “now, what is this?”

The knife clatters to the ground loudly.

You chance a glimpse over your shoulder, expression meek and fearful as you take in the man before you.

That’s what he was.

All man, nothing like what you’ve been told to believe. No horns, no wings, no overtowering presence to send you running in the opposite direction. Nothing like the stories you’ve heard as a child.

And he’s rightfully beautiful—clearly defined edges to his jaw, a stature that felt both threatening and comforting, he held himself high, a proper posture that had to have been learned. Taught. Drilled and instilled into his outwardly behavior. He smiles wide, bright and shining teeth behind plush lips and a nose that screamed god-like but you knew he was anything but.

“Speak up, now,” He taunts, voice gravelly and thick, whether it is a forced dialect or not, you hear no flaws—he sounds familiar, looks familiar, and you feel it all may be a ruse, but you don’t question it, “busy night and I’m not being paid to have my time wasted on curious little vermin like you.”

Oh, there it was.

Still, you found yourself nervous as you spoke, suddenly forgetting all rational thinking or why you were even here, scrambling before him.

His footsteps are warning sounds against the pavement as he approaches you, tucking a stray hair behind your ear before he waits, expectantly, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered across his face.

“Tick tock,” He warns, “why did you summon me, sweetheart?”

The endearment feels odd and misplaced, but it still has your insides turning in a way they shouldn’t.

“I—uh,” Your voice is feeble, unsure, “do you—do you think I’m pretty?”

He looks genuinely confused, eyebrows shooting up slightly at your question.

He’s seen a lot, heard just about everything, but this was new. And from a beautiful, timid specimen like you, no less.

“If you want me to say yes, I will.” He offers.

He would’ve agreed anyways—he might not typical most of the indulgences with the human race, but he wasn’t blind.

“But, really,” Another gentle touch that you find yourself leaning into, like he could hear your own desperate desires spinning around in your mind, plucking them out carefully and storing them in his own, “why have you called me here?”

“I…don’t remember,” You admit softly, “I—I—“

It’s his unnerving presence that has robbed all rational thinking, as if summoning a devil was a good idea to begin with. But, he’s standing before you and suddenly you have nothing to offer, nothing proposition him with.

Because, really, what were you willing to trade your soul for? A better life? It was impossible.

He cups your face firmly, thumbs pressing into soft, supple flesh, and really—who was he to waste such a beautiful opportunity?

He’s used to older men—addicts, drunks, men who were nothing good for this world and did more harm than good. Still, a job was a job, taking souls was the easy part.

What followed was…much more intense.

He enjoys the reaction of the pathetic people on their knees, begging for any alternative—aside from the few who have seemed more than willing. He would never press the agreement, just a solid—

“Well, enjoy your pathetic little life then.” And disappears, no flare or show.

His time wasn’t to be wasted.

Yet, here he was, tending to the sad sight of you.

“Why are you upset?” He ponders softly, feeling your body thrum beneath his fingertips, the pulse of your heart quickening. “You’ve called me here for a reason.”

“I—hate living like this,” You admit quietly, “my father, he has these values, rules, I don’t want to—I don’t understand them. He constantly compares me to other women, berates me and criticizes how I dress, how I look.”

He pauses for a moment, like he’s sifting through the rolodex in his brain, but even just a touch against your skin and he can absorb every precious memory stored away in your mind.

“Your daddy,” He grins, “religious type, huh?”

“He’s..a priest.” You admit.

Jackpot.

“And—and he’s horrible. He—he cheated, back when my mom was still alive. She—she died a few years ago, drunk driver. But—I just—”

He feels a desire to make you better, ease this pain.

But, there are a few stipulations.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He coos, “I think I may be able to help.”

You close your eyes in relief, taking a deep breath through your nose.

Suddenly his lips are brushing against your ear and it ignites a fire inside your body, a feeling that was new and strange, exhilarating too.

“First, how ‘bout you call me Joel.” He offers, “I go by that up here.”

Right. Up here. Not down in hell.

You fight your curiosity and nod.

“Oh—okay, Joel?” You repeat curiously.

“Perfect.” He smiles, pulling back to look at you.

He feels he might be reprimanded for the idea brewing in his head.

Like, the king of hell might have a bone to pick with him. But, he was his best—there was no wrong that Joel could commit. Plus, he was feeling a little selfish.

Someone so easily influenced, willing—who was he to pass on this opportunity?

“You’re unhappy with your life?” He inquires to confirm, planting the seed in your mind.

“Yes, very much.” You speak quietly, licking your lips briefly and catching the way Joel’s eyes track it, his own lips parting slightly.

It’s almost hard to believe that this was just a skin, that whatever was underneath had to be much more intimidating and terrifying, but you focus on his face, fearful that if you let your mind wander you might end up a sobbing mess.

“And you would like me to make it…better?”

You nod subtly, a quick jerky movement that Joel would’ve missed had he not been paying apt attention to you.

You had potential. He could see it in your expression, pliable—teachable. It was the perfect concoction.

“That’s a mighty big ask, sweetheart.” Joel counters, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

“Please…please, I don’t know what else to do—”

Joel shushes you comfortingly, one of the hands holding your cheek slowly moves to the back of your head, cradling it.

“Well, I could kill your daddy,” Joel offers, “but…really, that’s no fun.”

You stay silent. The idea wasn’t totally deranged, as much as you hated your father. But, you can feel Joel on the precipice of another offer, something you fear you won’t be able to resist.

“Or, you come with me.” Joel offers, a malicious grin growing across his face, “And I can make that pathetic little life so much better.”

Your eyes search his face frantically for any signs of deceit, but they show nothing but the truth.

He wants you. He wants to have you, tuck you under his metaphorical wings and make you one of his own—and you find yourself nodding before you allow your thoughts to wander or doubt to seep in.

“I—I will, please.” You beg, “Just—how does this…work?”

Oh, you poor thing.

“Well—”

“Just a kiss, right?” You wander curiously, hands fisting into the lapels of his suit—the gaudy uniform he was forced to wear when he was on earth, quite a shame.

His pointer finger traces the delicate lines of your face, his thumb rubbing against the tip of your nose, down the cupid’s bow of your lip, before pulling gently at your bottom lip, the plump flesh snapping back into its previous position.

“Not…exactly.” He responds, “This deal requires more. A solid connection.”

“So…” The words linger in the air like a suffocating blanket of mystery.

“Have you ever been fucked before?” Joel asks bluntly, your eyes widening in response.

“Um—” You hesitate briefly, “Not…no, not really.”

Well. That was a first.

“Not really?” Joel questions your wording, silently asking you to elaborate.

It was his own curiosity getting the better of him.

“Just..some touching.” You offer blandly, “Over—over the clothes, you know?”

Yeah. Of course.

You were talking about your sexual inexperience to a demon who had half the mind to claim you where you stood, but here he was, curious. He couldn’t explain the intrigue he had for you, but the moment he set eyes on you, he’d had plans.

Joel offers a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, your eyes closing briefly as he moves in.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” Joel reassures, “When I’m finished, you won’t feel so clueless.”

And with a deft snap of his fingers, you’re plunged into darkness.

You’re thankful Joel is there to catch you, knees buckling as you transverse through the planes of existence—it’s the only thing you can assume as your surroundings change in an instant.

You weren’t in the middle of nowhere Texas anymore, rather a room filled with dark, leather furniture and amenities you were almost positive Joel had no use for. No chains or torture devices like you might’ve assumed. Just a low light room that could’ve doubled as an open-floor apartment.

This must be where deals are sealed, eyeing the litany of different surfaces Joel would probably plan to consume you over, suddenly feeling completely out of your mind for taking his offer.

He senses your panic, his touch an odd comfort as he whispers, “Don’t worry, you have some leverage here.”

Even if he was lying, you relaxed slightly.

“This deal is…different.” The word feels like a ruse, but he can't find another way to explain.

“It’s not just your soul, but all of it.” He runs a hand down your face, chest, stopping at the swell of your breasts before continuing his way down, calloused fingers playing with the hem of your suddenly pristine, white dress.

No dirt or grime found, it was like the old dress had been snatched away and replaced with a new one.

“You stay here, with me.” Joel explains. “You work for me, with me.”

You stay silent, listening to his offer.

“And you will be mine.”

There it was.

“So…a partnership?” You surmise, feeling his wandering fingertips splay along your thigh, squeezing the flesh in his hands.

“Mmm,” He hums thoughtfully, “more like a mentorship.”

You nod, quickly understanding.

“There’s so much I can teach you,” Joel explains, “That I will teach you.”

His hand gropes your ass suddenly, pulling a gasp from your chest. His nostrils flare at your reaction, teeth bared under his sullen expression.

“Are you ready to offer yourself over to me, sweetheart?”

“Yeah—yes.” You reply, strengthening your resolve and answer clearly.

Joel smirks devilishly—which, in retrospect, yeah. It makes sense. But, there’s a true evil behind his eyes that you’ve yet to witness and had your insides stirring with intrigue.

Unlike most, he was planning to take his time with you.

You expect things to progress with intensity, but they don’t.

Joel graciously guides you toward the couch in the room, taking a seat in the middle before guiding your legs over his lap, allowing you to take a proper seat and relax, his hands exploring exposed skin, fingertips rubbing at the thin strap of your dress snug against your shoulder and drags it down slowly, tracing his fingers along the line of your shoulder.

“Can I…ask you something?” You hesitate to speak, eyes closed as you tilt your head to the side, feeling his finger tips dig into your skin as his hand wraps around the side of your neck, his other hand busy discovering what lies beneath, performing a similar action with the strap until your dress falls to your waist, exposing your breasts.

He runs a careful fingering over your nipple, the bud hardening underneath his touch, before his eyes, and he thinks it may be the most heavenly thing he’s witnessed so far, given his course of work.

“Go on.” He responds, distracted, leaning forward to latch his mouth to your clavicle, the wet heat of his tongue pressed deliciously against your skin.

“Is this—is this you?” You ask innocently, allowing yourself a bold touch to his face, delicate fingers follow the angular parts of his face until you find your hands seeking the softness of his curls, moaning softly as his mouth ravishes your skin and bites hungrily, but playfully. “Is this your…natural form?”

Curiosity was natural. And it wasn’t the first time he’s been asked if the skin he wears is his own.

The answer is fairly simple.

“No,” He responds, “but, I prefer this. It’s much more—appealing than the other. More approachable.”

“O-Oh,” You sigh, his hands disregarding your breasts to squeeze at your waist, dragging your hips forward to feel his hardening cock underneath you, confined to his slacks but very persistent. If your soul wasn’t already gone, it definitely left your body then, “um…another question?”

Joel chuckles, toothy smile shining up at you as he watches your eyes dilate with pleasure, knowing you were enjoying this. He nods again.

“The, uh, guy—how do you—”

“Are you wondering how I came to acquire this skin?” He finishes for you.

You nod slightly, hearing the faintness of his zipper as he lifts you slightly, enough to shift his slacks down his hips to relieve some of the pressure.

“I’m really not supposed to talk about deals,” Joel drones on, but he knows he’s going to tell you anyways, “but—he was a desperate man, begging me to bring his young daughter back to life. Unfortunately, the boss has a strict policy on resurrections,” He explains, like it’s all merely a simple transaction, though to him it was, “so, he begged me to kill him instead.”

“And you did?”

Joel nods, the distinct rip of fabric as he splits your dress in half and discards it, leaving you naked aside from the thin fabric of underwear that held snug on your hips.

“Sort of. Didn’t seem fair that he went to waste,” He shrugs, “and while he doesn’t occupy this body anymore and I didn’t take his soul, I do occupy the vessel for as long as I please or until I find something better.”

Though, he’s grown fond of this disguise. Taking on his likeness and name, it made deals far more easier when people were willing to approach him. His quota are up, he was rising in the ranks, it was all looking up for him.

Normally, you’d feel the urge to hide yourself away, terrified at being gawked at so openly, but there’s a hunger behind Joel’s gaze that feeds your ego and desire, unadulterated lust behind his eyelids.

“You sucked a cock before?” He asks crudely, but then he’s tipping your chin up, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, and you can’t offer anything but the truth.

If you had lied he would’ve known in a second.

You shake your head, allowing the slow slide of his thumb past your lips, pressing down on your tongue, pulling your face forward with the leverage and your lips close around the digit instinctively.

“Sweetheart, have you even seen one before?”

There’s a lingering silence that confirms his suspicions.

“Get on your knees,” He offers, spreading his legs until he can pull his slacks off entirely, removing his jacket haphazardly, leaving him in a crisp white button up, tie still secured tightly around his neck—“Go on.”

You found yourself staring, moving obediently as he guides you to the floor, lips hung open slightly as you can feel your tastebuds yearning for a taste of him. It’s mouth-watering, really.

His arms are spread over the back of the couch and he’s waiting, looking at you expectantly.

“Gotta lot to teach you, honey,” He tells you, “better if you learn with a hands on approach—go on and take a peek.”

You shift on wobbly knees, pulling at the waistband of his underwear—it is far from anything you’ve imagined or expected, full in girth and weight as his cock bobs heavily against his stomach, a small string of precum staining his shirt in the process. You can’t help the way your lips part, almost imagining the stretch as you’d force it to fit in your mouth.

God, would it even fit?

And the thought of it inside of you—terrifying, but still exhilarating.

You’re doing the mental math in your head, tilting your head curiously as your brow scrunches in thought. Eight, bordering on nine inches and all thick and uncut, and well-trimmed at the base. But, the part that makes you bite your lip hard enough you can taste blood is the way he rolls his balls tenderly in his palm, almost as mouth-watering to you as the sight of his cock.

Joel knows fascination when he sees it, unrestrained and every so curious.

He’s never encountered a virgin before, not like you. He’s dealt with inexperienced, bad etiquette, but never someone so hopelessly clueless. And yet, still so willing to learn.

You were sent to him, he thinks. Rather than he to you. There was no other way this would end.

You were his now, even without knowing.

And truthfully, that was fine with you.

Joel grins lazily, the hands fondling his balls slowly moving to his shaft, wrapping around his own girth and down his shaft in a motion that has your eyes drawing to the pink, weeping head.

“Give me your hand.” Joel instructs, extending his free hand to you and encircling his fingers around your wrist to replace his own grip, nothing in comparison to what his large hands could cover.

Testingly, you copy his motions as you squeeze your grip around his cock and mimic a slow up and down motion on his shaft, watching as the foreskin swallows the tip and then pulling back as you feel bold, pressing your tongue against the slit and lapping up the heady taste of him.

It shouldn’t feel like this. This was sinful.

“Hey, hey,” He coos, voice softening as he leans in, hand wrapping around the front of your neck and pushing you back slightly, “don’t get ahead of yourself there, darlin’.”

“I thought—”

His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, saliva spreading against the fleshy tissue and he chuckles.

“You want a taste?” He asks, earning a confirming nod from you. “Open your mouth.”

And rather than allowing you his cock, he gathers a small amount of saliva in his mouth and squeezes your own mouth open by your cheeks, spitting directly into your waiting mouth, eyes widening in disbelief.

You were missing out on. So. Fucking. Much.

“Close and swallow,” He tells you, waiting until you listen, which doesn’t take much push on his part, noticing how obedient you were from the moment he approached you, “already listenin’ so well, sweetheart.”

He releases the tight hold on your face and slumps back into his previous position, cock held firmly in his hands as he taps them against your slack lips, nose flaring slightly as your tongue slips out, lapping at the tip gently. Swirling around the head carefully as you spread your lips, letting him feed his cock slowly into your mouth, slow enough to allow you time to adjust. Gain your bearings.

He’s being gentle, for now—he wants to push your limits. You can feel it, the way he’s restraining himself as his free hand squeezes the cushion beneath him, blunt nails scratching the fabric.

Suddenly, you remember you have hands, feeling them lay numb and useless at your side you quickly gain your bearings and replace his hand with a soft shove and he can see your confidence grow with every solid inch you take. The soft, velvetiness of his dick so welcoming in your mouth, nudging at the back of your throat as you breath sharply pushing until it strings, eyes watering. You pull back with a soft gasp, Joel’s eyes following your movement, drawn to you with an inability to look away, and the faint string of spit that connects your lips to his head still is enough to have him cumming right there, if he wanted.

But, he wanted to savor this. To devour and take.

He gives you a subtle nod of encouragement as you return your lips to his shaft, dragging a long line from root to tip with your tongue before swirling around the tip gently and forcing him into your mouth in one go and out, again. Again. Again. Until your jaw aches with a pain that is welcomed and he seems to take notice—a solid hand cradling your jaw as he rubs at the sore spot with a gentle touch, so juxtaposed to the man he should be.

The man he was. He was holding back, for your sake.

“Can’t believe you’ve never sucked cock before,” He drones on, chin tilted down as he looked upon you, wide eyes staring back, “you wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

You shake your head honestly, mouth still stuck firmly around him as you bow your head slowly, letting him guide you further down again, stopping only when you feel the urge to gag to then trail your tongue down his sack, the heaviness of his balls weighing against your tongue, allowing the process to repeat several times until he’s satisfied, a sharp hiss through his teeth as he pulls you off roughly, hand fisting into your hair.

‘C’mere,” He mumbles, guiding you a little too harshly into his lap, groaning at the sting as he pulls you taught, lips pressing together in a messy, tireless exchange. You couldn’t even call it a kiss, just tongue and teeth and heated noises as you explore each other curiously, noting how intoxicating it felt to kiss him—the hint that maybe there was something about him that casted a spell on you, not just his charming looks and personality. It’s almost impossible to believe you were minutes away from sharing a bed with the one thing your father used to tell you to fear for your life.

And here you were, ready to toss your soul over for a fix to your life.

But, if Joel was willing to catch you, there was nothing that would stop you.

Joel guides you to the bed with a practiced precision, letting you fall gently as he loosens his tie, unbuttoning his shirt with quick, sharp movements, shrugging it down his shoulders—alas, allow you an unobscured view of beautiful, tan skin and imperfections. A reminder that this body was once human, that it had lived. You rise slightly, pressing up on your palms as you reach out a hesitant hand to press against his chest, the soft scratch of your nails against his stomach causing him to tense slightly, catching your wrist tightly, stalling your movements.

“Now, I could be nice about this,” Joel begins, “prep you right and let you come around my fingers first,” You perk up slightly, struggling against his hold as you felt the need to disobey, to touch him just once more, “that what you want?”

You nod hesitantly, earning an inquisitive look from Joel.

“Sweetheart, tell me you’ve touched yourself before?”

He’d snap if you said no—it might actually break him.

“Of course.” You reply quickly, offering a fiendish smirk.

He laughs lowly at your unabashed honesty, releasing your wrist to trade for a finger under your chin, tilting your chin up slightly.

“Show me.” He purrs, “Show me how you like to touch yourself.”

His hands follow the slope of your legs as you lean back against the plush pillows, helping the spread of your thighs with the back of his hand, taking in the sight of you with fresh eyes, in all your untouched glory. Cunt glistening with a need that has been growing and growing since he first touched you, folds dripping with a slick wetness as you spread your fingers down your core and applying a gentle pressure to your clit that was welcoming, safe. It was a feeling you were familiar with.

But, Joel doesn’t want that.

He allows a few minutes, uninterrupted, selfishly admiring the sight of you. Head thrown back, fingers working away tirelessly as they traded between dipping inside of you for that yearned feeling of pressure, to be filled, before sliding back up to your clit, rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves until you were panting, threateningly his name hung at the back of your throat, unable to find the courage to look at him this deep in your own seek of pleasure and release.

His fingers trace but never stray to close, they stretch your limits by edging the seams of your thighs but never to the point where it breaks your concentration, but somewhere between the almost sigh of his name and his quick ascent onto the mattress as it dips slightly, his fingers are replacing your own with a deep, thankful moan.

“Joel,” You finally sigh, “oh—that’s—”

“Better?”

“So much,” You whine, “So much bigger, fuck—”

“Dirty,” He clicks his tongue, “kiss all the boys around town with that mouth?”

“Maybe,” You shrug innocently, “but—fuck—never let them fuck me, Joel.”

Joel nods knowingly as one finger becomes two, sensitive hole fluttering around his fingers and squeezing, greedy. He knows it is going to be a tight fit, difficult, but not impossible. You rest your full weight into the bed, giving up the attempt to stay upright and fight for some leverage here—it was useless with his fingers inside of you, working you over like he’s known your body for years, every touch overlapping the next and driving you mad, feeling your body shake as you neared the edge, ready to jump off and into his arms, knowing he would catch you.

But, he wasn’t going to allow that.

“Not yet, sweetheart.”

He can sense it before you do, so in tune with your body. He grips your thighs suddenly, settling them over his hips as he leaned on his calves, pressing the head of his cock near your entrance teasingly, watching as you tensed around nothing, void of his fingers too.

“Can’t waste the opportunity of your first time without my cock being stuffed inside you when you come,” There’s another gentle, teasing press as he slots himself more securely against your body, face cradled in his free hand as he rubs the apple of your cheek tenderly, “right?”

You nod, leaning into his touch as he pushes inside in one slow, persistent push of his hips, feeling your body shake underneath his touch, cunt already squeezing him needly, greedily pulling him in and begging for more. More. More.

He grunts softly when he’s fully sheathed inside you, settling his hands in the dips of your waist, thumbs pressed against your stomach as he pulls out to the tip, allowing another slow drag of his hips, mostly for show.

He’s being kind. Too nice. And you don’t need that right now.

Joel laughs louder than you’re expecting, startled as he tosses his head back, picking up his pace slightly as he pistons his hips in a sharper, pointed roll. Snap. Snap. Snap.

Deeper and deeper each time.

God, was he reading your fucking mind?

“You humans are a curious species,” He comments, “So greedy, so hateful, but there are—huh, special little beings like you.” The veins in his neck bulge as he switches positions suddenly, leaving you half folded under his willful, pliable hands, his arms barricading you in as the pace was nearing unbearable, just teetering on the edge. You yelped at the sudden change, quickly dissolving into a litany of moans as he could see the switch in your expression as he hit that special, spongy spot inside of you. “So fucking perfect.”

A glorious thing the human body was, indeed.

“Think—think I might just have to ask my boss for a decade off,” He jokes half-heartedly, and given the context you could laugh, but you’re only slightly sure he’s joking, “keeping this pretty little pussy all to myself and fuck you until you don’t remember a damn thing.”

You don’t have words, sounds—not even a thought. The press of his cock at your cervix almost mind-numbing as you clawed at his skin, flawed but indestructible when he occupied it.

“Not even that sweet name of yours,” He whispers it delicately in your ear, realizing that you had never properly introduced yourself but somehow he knew, “you were made for me, you know?”

Like a prophecy, destined to be fulfilled.

“Any path,” He stops briefly, voice shaky as he feels himself nearing his own end, “it would’ve led to this, sweetheart. To me.”

There’s a soft switch of something over your head, his face contorting slightly in pain as you watch through hazy, half-lidded eyes, before he’s bringing his bloody palm to your mouth.

“Wo-Woah, what—” You panic, the crimson liquid dripping down his palm slowly.

“Shhh, shhh,” He soothes, “Trust me.”

He knows you’ll take his word for it, already nodding with a surety as he raises his hand to your mouth, but he continues to talk, allowing you the reassuring words you crave.

“This bonds you to me,” He explains, “Seals the deal—no more shitty life, no more weak, poor soul to keep you tied there,” You feel the hot rush of liquid as it pours into your mouth, like a surge of power as it seeps into your tastebuds, like the strongest drug known to mankind as it filtered through your body, made you felt as if you could do anything, “it’s you—just me and you now.”

His eyes roll back as you suction your lips around the inside of his palm, moaning out a deep and strangled, “Fuuuuck—”

You’re greedy with the blood, fingers digging into his forearm as you drank hungrily, face messy with the thick liquid when he finally pulls away, leaving you in a state of dissociated euphoria.

Floating.

You feel the entire room fade, shifting behind him as he does the same to your own palm, a quicker and precise knick as he trades a small amount in favor of the copious amount you took from him, selfishly.

It was intimate, too intimate. An intensity behind his eyes as they flashed a sudden shade of black as he consumed you, before quickly shifting back to their normal state, warm pools of dark honey, darkened with desire. He notices you staring at him, wandering eyes.

“Do I scare you?” He asks lowly, melting with your soft, pathetic whines.

“Nonono,” You mumble weakly, squeezing desperately around his cock, “never.”

He rests his forehead against your own, a few gentle rocks of his hips and it’s forcing you both over the precipice with little effort, guttural gasps into stale air, face mushed together as you clung to one another and panted, feeling the warmth flood between your legs as he came with a strong, forceful snap of his hips.

“Oh, baby,” He sighs, “that was—”

The room is still spinning, your mind running on a high.

“Your blood—I think it’s—”

You can’t get the words out, his cock slipping out of you gently as he shifts, falling on the bed beside you. He grabs your wrist carefully, dragging slow fingertips up your arm, each touch like an electrical current against your skin.

“Powerful shit, isn’t it?” He chuckles softly.

You nod deftly, turning to look at him.

He looks so…normal. Like, had you met the real Joel back home, this was him.

Maybe it still was, you could never truly know.

“What…what happens now?” You ask hesitantly, “Am I—am I dead?”

Joel comforts you with a soft touch, fingers brushing your cheek as he turns you, pulls you into his chest as he follows suit and cuddles against you, still exploring your body with wandering touches, feeling every nerve-ending breathe a new life into your body.

So, not dead? You definitely didn’t feel like it.

“No,” Joel assures you, “‘Least, not really. Soulless, yes. But, your mind is still there.”

“O—okay.” You still weren’t sure what that meant.

“Memories will fade overtime,” Joel continues, “But here—with me, you’ll have leverage. Power.”

Joel traces his fingers along your chin and brings your eyes to his, “You’ll learn, I promise.” He assures, “Just a little bit of patience.”

You nod understandingly, leaning into the comforting touch he provides.

“But, in the meantime,” Joel’s eyes trace the length of your body, “there’s a lot more I can teach you, sweetheart. If you’re willing to learn.”

Luckily, you were more than willing. A wicked grin stretching across your face, and he knows then that he made the perfect choice, fate or not. This was forever.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x fem!reader #my writing #second times a charm

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atticrissfinch · 9 months

Text

Exposed (javier peña x fem!reader) (18+)

pairing: dark!professor!javier peña x fem!student!reader summary: when you accidentally send a risqué picture to the wrong number, your worst nightmares are realized warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] heavy dubcon blowjob, power imbalance, blackmail, extortion, threat of revenge porn, age gap (unspecified, but Javi is in his 40s, reader is early 20s), overheard male masturbation (javi makes you listen to him jack off), brief mentions of drugs/drug use, degradation, pet names/derogatory terms (baby, sweetheart, whore, slut, etc), probably terrible Spanish word count: ~5.4k | ao3 a/n: my contribution to the haunted hoedown, because we know how I salivate over a taboo trope. Also s/o to my love Emma @walkintotheriveranddisappear for some deliciously depraved ideas that made it into this fic 😈

You knew the class was going to be small, but you didn’t expect it to be this small.

You heard Professor Peña was hot, but you didn’t expect him to be this hot.

You had scored a spot in a highly coveted by-recommendation-only course, instructed by the notoriously attractive Professor Peña. You’re not strictly proud of the amount of groveling you had done to secure this class, but it had paid off regardless.

To approximately 15 students situated around a large round table, Professor Peña announces that this is a participation-heavy class and you each are expected to contribute vocally to every discussion. That and the couple of papers through the semester will cement your grade in the course. So you had better come prepared to talk.

He also does something no other professor in your three years at university has done—he recites his personal cell phone number for the class, inviting you to text him at any time with questions or concerns.

A bold choice, you think, considering his painfully good looks. You’re sure the female students throw themselves at him constantly, begging for higher grades with juicy red lips and flimsy dresses. Shit, any gender probably tries shooting their shot with him on the regular.

He’s got those pouty lips under a finely manicured mustache that definitely shouldn’t work in this day and age—much more at home in, what, the 80s?—and that adorable furrow in his brow that students would trip over themselves to smooth over. And those fucking biceps. You can practically hear the stitchings on his button-up sleeves screaming for their lives every class.

The real question is how often does this guy give in? He comes off fairly good-natured if not a bit of a prick. Very sure of himself and his knowledge. But as the lessons have gone by, you haven’t noticed him delving out any special treatment to anyone in particular. He drills each student pretty equally, offering counterpoints and playful “devil’s advocate” takes to stoke the fire of the lecture.

All in all, he’s a decent professor. Intense, but thoughtful. Not afraid to argue, but not afraid to step down or consider a point he hadn’t before with an upside-down grin and a nod of his head.

And he looks, but he doesn’t linger. The low-cut tops catch his eye, that much is obvious, but he’s well practiced in disguising it. You’d only notice if you were looking for it.

And maybe you were. Maybe you were looking for it. Not seriously. Just for fun. Just to scavenge for a weak spot in his tenured armor. The more you search for the throat-clears, the wiping of invisible dirt from his nose, the easier they are to spot. The man is clearly not immune to temptation.

His gaze tends to slide over you like butter, only dropping briefly to your chest after he’s done with his line of questioning and moving on to another student.

Very smooth. Near undetectable.

But he treats you with respect, like an intellectual. Values your insights, praises your observations. Makes you feel respected.

Which is why you don’t have an issue texting him a couple of days before a deadline, politely asking for a short extension.

However, what you should have been much more careful about was who else you were texting at the time. Some frat boy who had a nice dick and no qualms about a “friends with benefits” situation.

A boy who was currently baiting you for “something sexy” for him to get off to tonight.

Well, you definitely sent something. To someone.

And when said boy doesn’t respond after a few minutes, and you double-check your work, you think your soul might ascend from your fucking body.

Wrong text thread.

WRONG FUCKING TEXT THREAD.

Your fingers type as furiously as they ever have before, frantically attempting damage control.

OH MY GOD PROFESSOR IM SO FUCKING SORRY

PLEASE DONT LOOKNAT THAT

PLEASE DELETE IT IM SOSORRY THAT WAS NOT MEANT FOR YOU

You’re sweating. In nothing but the panties you were wearing in that godforsaken picture you just sent. To your fucking professor.

Who hasn’t fucking responded yet.

The minutes tick past, and your heart rate is not slowing. What the fuck do you do in a situation like this? You’re not even a faceless student in a sea of seven hundred and fifty in a lecture hall. He is keenly aware of you as a student. He sits right next to you during class sometimes.

Your phone lights up next to you: Professor Peña

Oh, fuck.

You don’t give him a chance to speak first before you’re hitting accept and word-vomiting all over him. “Professor I am so fucking sorry, that was so inappropriate, I cannot believe I did that, I am so fucking sorr—”

“Hey, slow down.”

His voice is disturbingly calm and firm.

“Take a deep breath.”

You do as instructed, inhaling as deeply as you can through your nose and cascading it out through your mouth.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not—”

He says your name softly, “It’s okay. It was a mistake, right?”

“Yes, a huge, massive mistake. I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

“Not very focused on that paper you just asked for an extension for, huh?”

The smirk in his voice is…alarming to say the least. Very disarming. You can’t help but let out a harried laugh.

“Um, not at this very moment, no.”

“Or prior to this very moment, clearly.”

He’s making a joke. He’s making light of this to take the stress off. You know this. Then why does he sound so…

No. Of course not. There’s no way.

“I should have been more careful, I deeply apologize.”

“No more apologies needed. You’re…” You hear him sigh over the line, “You’re a very beautiful woman.”

Fuck.

No no nononono.

“Professor, I—”

“I mean I’d have to be blind, right? To not appreciate a beautiful young woman like you. Those…gorgeous tits…”

Those last words have your mind stumbling over itself. Yeah, okay, you’ve fantasized about this man more than once. Even about him saying those exact words. But this is reality. Your professor—your actual, real-life professor—commenting on your bare tits.

“Professor Peña, I know what I just did, but I think this is very inappropriate,” You say shakily, suddenly feeling exceedingly uncomfortable in your own skin. You grab the throw blanket from the edge of your bed and wrap it around yourself as if he can see you through the phone.

“Am I just supposed to ignore what I’m seeing? Right now, clear as day on my screen? God, you really are…radiant.”

“Please delete it.”

He pushes out a short laugh. “Well, now, I’m not so sure about that. Looks to me like this might be attached to that little favor you just asked me.”

Your eyes grow wide as the full implication of his words settles into your skin. “No, no, this is not a—a bribe, or anything like that, it was a mistake.”

You hear him make a tchk tchk sound with the side of his mouth. “Sure looks like a bribe from where I’m sitting.”

He can’t possibly think that. Do you come off as that desperate? No way. He even just confirmed that it was a mistake. He knows it’s not on purpose. Maybe he’s had students do that to him before. That’s all it is. Surely.

“Professor. That is so far off base from what’s happening here, I…I would never…”

Maybe your ears are deceiving you, but it sounds like his voice dips a little deeper. “And what if I were to consider that bribe? You willing to sweeten the pot a little?”

Holy shit. This cannot be real. The absolute fucking audacity of this man.

“Professor…I’m not…whoring myself out for a deadline extension,” You bite back with wavering determination. “And how fucking dare you even insinuate that.”

“No, of course not,” he posits, adding on almost as a throwaway, “Just whoring yourself out to every dim-witted frat boy on campus, then.”

What the fuck? Did he really just say that to you? Does he honestly feel like he has any place to judge you for sending one single spicy picture to a guy who, for all he knows, could have been your boyfriend? He’s not your boyfriend, but still. The balls this guy has on him to assume that, while he’s dropping sexual comments about a student’s body?

“Who the fuck do you think you are, professor? Talking to me like this? I will report your ass so fucking fast,” You snap back at him, already mentally compiling all the shit you’re about to send to the school.

His tone remains cool, verging on entertained. “And tell them what, exactly? That you’re asking for extensions and sending nudes to professors? Cause that seems to be all you have at this juncture.”

“That you’re sexualizing your students, maybe?”

“Again, with what evidence, sweetheart?”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

“You have none, sweetheart. Now what you do have, is a delectable little body. And if you share a bit more of it with me, we could just…forget all about that pesky paper. How about that?”

This cannot be happening to you. This man, who instructs one of the most desired courses on campus, dangling a pass on a high-value assignment in front of you in exchange for you further degrading yourself for him. How many other girls has he done this to? Or are you just special? Fucking ew.

“I’m not sending your pervy ass any more of my body.”

“Okay. Fair enough,” He says dismissively. “You’ve shown me enough to make a splash, so I guess that’s all that really matters here.”

You hesitate. “What…what is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, it may not cause too much of an impact, since I’m sure every backwards-capped, trust fund with a cock has already seen what you’ve got. But I’m sure I could still do some damage.”

Your gut twists inside you. Holy shit. Would he really do that? Would he distribute your nudes to campus? Maybe an even wider range than that? He could bulldoze your career before it even starts. Tarnish your reputation before…before you’ve even really lived.

“You wanna leak my picture? You’re literally blackmailing me for nudes?”

He sounds as blasé as ever, like he’s picking grime from under his nails while casually threatening your future. “I’m just trying to facilitate your extension request. That’s all.”

“This is so fucked up,” You mumble clutching the blanket closer around you.

“It’s very simple, sweetheart. Send me what I want, and this goes away. The paper goes away. No one needs to know.”

There it is. The most hackle-raising black-and-white scenario that’s ever been foisted upon your sinking shoulders. Either way, this man wins. It’s really just a matter of who knows he won. Just the two of you, or…fucking everyone.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and take the bait.

“No one else will know?”

“Not a single goddamn soul.”

“You swear on your fucking life?”

“Swear on my life, sweetheart.”

You scrub your face with your hand, groaning at the ludicrous circumstances you’ve found yourself in tonight. Who the fuck doesn’t double-check where they’re sending their fucking nudes?

Your voice comes out small, defeated. “Fine. What do you want?”

You hear an inhale and then a measured exhale. “I want the last piece of that puzzle, baby. Show me what’s under those panties.”

You crinkle your nose at the lasciviousness smothering his words. “God, you’re fucking sick, you know that?”

“Is that a no? Cause I can—-”

“Fuck. No, it’s not a no. Just fucking—hold on. Jesus. Trying to wrap my head around selling my fucking soul here. This is not how I imagined my night going.”

“Aww, was that naughty pic just a prelude for what was to come for some lucky Freshman in the dorms?”

“Shut up,” You mumble, your fingers tossing off the throw blanket and dancing indecisively at the band of your underwear. “Like I’d denigrate myself with a Freshman.”

“No, you’re just stripping down for a professor right now. Much more respectable.”

“Shut up,” You shout back again, hearing a laugh through the phone.

“Make sure to spread those legs for me, sweetheart. I want a front-row seat. That paper’s worth a lot of points.”

“Don’t fucking—I’m doing it, okay? Fuck.”

Before you can mull over it too much, you rid yourself of the final piece of clothing on your body. You flop onto your back and spread as directed, aiming the front-facing camera toward your exposed folds. Taking one more steadying breath, you hit the shutter button.

What sucks is you do have a fucking nice pussy. One that you’re very proud of. One that deserves to be appreciated. Just not like this.

The photo automatically attaches to your text thread, awaiting your final approval. Your face doesn’t show, on purpose. You want at least a sliver of plausible deniability in this shitshow. The previous one showing your entire fucking face, up on spread knees with your tits on full display in the mirror’s reflection was plenty.

You hit “send” before you psych yourself out.

You hear him groan and swear. “Jesus fucking Christ, baby. That’s one pretty pussy.”

“Prettier than you fucking deserve,” You mutter back, snatching the blanket and covering yourself up again.

His next words are a bit muffled, the sound drowned out by him rustling the phone, but you make them out, “This is very nice, baby, thank you.”

Then your professor emits a prolonged sigh, curtailed with a moan at the end. Then another. And another…

“Jesus, are—are you jerking off right now?” You whisper accusingly, face scrunching in utter disgust.

“What else—fuck—what else would I be doing with these pretty pictures, baby?”

You mimic a gagging motion to yourself. “God, ok, we’re so fucking done here—”

“Don’t you fucking go anywhere, sweetheart,” He barks at you, and it does what he intends, making you stop. “You stay right—shit—right fucking here. You drop this call, the deal’s off.”

“Jesus, why?” You beg, face still pinched in distaste.

“‘Cause I fucking said so.”

You groan and throw your phone down, your room filling with the sounds of your fucking professor choking his cock.

“Fuck, that’s a sweet little pussy, baby. Just begging for my cock inside it. Ohhh fuck, shit I’m close,” He groans, almost whimpering with it. “God, wanna come right on those beautiful tits, baby. Oh fuck,” His voice breaks a bit at the end as it splits into a loud moan and an excess of panting breaths.

You have nothing to fucking say. Your brain is reeling from all the shit that just happened. You just listened to Professor Peña jack off to naked photos of you. How the fuck do you reconcile that with the man you’ve known in the classroom these past several weeks?

How do you reconcile the blatant fucking blackmailing that just solidified itself over the span of this call?

“Shit. Haven’t come that fast in a minute,” He huffs out, quieter than he was a minute ago as if he threw the phone aside and put it on speaker. “Body like a goddess, putita.”

You snatch up your phone with fury in your veins. “I know what that means. Don't ever fucking call me that, you sick pervert,” You spit out at him. “You’re the one extorting college girls for their fucking nudes. Who’s the real slut in this scenario?”

“Woah, woah, extorting? Who’s extorting here? I don’t see me begging anywhere in these texts. I see una putita,” He emphasizes the insult with relish, “throwing her pussy at me in hopes of some academic leniency. Now, what do you think the dean of students would make of that?” He remarks in feigned concern.

“You swore.”

“I did indeed. And as long as you keep that pretty little mouth shut, we shouldn’t have a problem. Should we?”

You rest your face in your palm, rubbing at your temples with your thumb and finger. You give a resolved sigh. “No, professor. No problem here. Let’s just…pretend it never fucking happened. Okay?”

You can hear his grin over the phone. “Never fucking happened. That’s right. Have a good night, sweetheart.”

The line goes dead and you pelt your phone into your sheets. All at once, the tears hit you like a fucking truck, and you fall apart into heaving sobs.

—

There’s no Buzzfeed article on how to girlboss your way through a college course after accidentally sending your professor nudes and having him blackmail you for more.

You know, you’ve checked.

It’s been several days since your encounter with Professor Peña, and this morning is your first class with him since. You’re choosier than you’ve ever been about your outfit of the day. Everything you own seems to be revealing in some way, and you’re trying to find something more…nun-chic. The last thing you want to do is give Professor Peña an excuse to ogle you throughout class, now that he knows what’s underneath.

Boyfriend jeans and a t-shirt it is, then.

The indecision makes you later than usual. Still on time, but barely. The only seat left is directly across from him. Of fucking course.

He doesn’t double-take or stare excessively, just a cordial nod acknowledging your presence as he begins the discussion. The banality of his reaction is almost worse than the idea of the opposite.

It’s like he really doesn’t give a shit about what he did the other night. Like it was a run-of-the-mill Thursday night for him. Get home, pour out some Jim Beam, grade some papers, stroke one out to your student’s nudes while on the phone with her, go to bed.

Jesus, for all you know, it might be normal for him.

Your mind is out to the fucking races, and it’s embarrassingly obvious when he puts you on the spot with a question or request for comment. You muddle your way through with the most lackluster answers you can conjure up in that second, just to get the heat off you.

When he’s done with his final inquisition toward you, he gives you a fleeting look up and down. Not in a manner someone would immediately pin as sexual, but there must be an element of it there all the same given the circumstance.

“Disappointing answers today. I expect you to be more prepared next time.”

He leaves it at that and launches into another talking point.

You want to disintegrate into a fucking puddle on the linoleum floor. Astral project your consciousness anywhere the fuck else than here, in this room, getting an “I’m disappointed in you” lecture in front of a dozen other students, from the king of all covert skeeves.

Verbally retaliating would just cause a scene, so you take your lumps and retract in on yourself, swearing under your breath. For the rest of class, you sit with your forehead resting on your hand, scribbling nonsense notes.

Professor Peña dismisses class, and you compile your shit like it’s revving up to run for its life. When you hear him call your name, you cringe.

You chance a look and he’s tapping to align his papers on the table, a stern expression fixed on you from beneath his lashes.

“Stick around for a moment, please.”

In the corner of your eye, you can see other students offering everything from looks of pity to secondhand fear to just plain yikes.

With a curt nod, you fall back into your seat, rhythmically rapping your pen on your notebook and well on your way to championing “eye contact avoidance” into an Olympic sport.

Professor Peña follows the last student to the door at your back, closing it after them. He doesn’t reappear in your line of sight, and when he breaks the silence, his voice comes from behind you.

“You know, that was a very lovely paper you wrote. But that doesn’t excuse you from interacting in class. You don’t get a pass to just coast through the rest of the semester.”

You snort, chucking your pen down on the table. “Oh, please.”

A large hand lands flat on the table next to your books, and a prickling awakens on the back of your neck at his proximity. You could work up a sweat just from the heat radiating off his body.

“I’m not loving the attitude here. Particularly from someone who couldn’t form cohesive sentences in response to rather simple questions today.”

“Oh, fuck off,” You snap at him, turning your body in your chair to face him.

He leers down at you with a raised eyebrow and his tongue poised between his teeth and the inside of his lip.

“I’m thinking you need to meet with me during my office hours.” He rolls his eyes up in thought and then nods. “Yup, I just decided. I expect to see you in my office this evening.”

“What? There’s literally no reason for—”

“You clearly aren’t coming prepared for lecture, and now you’re giving me attitude. I think we need to have a larger discussion about your future in this class.”

“I don’t need–”

“This is not a request.”

“That’s such bullshit, professor,” You glare back at him.

He shrugs with a frown, propelling himself back from the table with his hand and readjusting the strap of his leather messenger bag. “Between five and eight PM. If I don’t see you…” He pauses with his hand on the door handle and drops his gaze to your covered tits for a brief moment before giving a small tilt of his head, “Well, I guess we’ll both see.”

He swings open the door and leaves without another word.

—

You float the idea of not showing up. His threat is already beginning to wear thin to you. So what if he leaks your nudes? Not the end of the world. It’s an awkward conversation to have with your parents, to be sure, but that’s if it even came to that. His threats could be hollow. He could be nothing more than a sad, lonely man scrounging for women to wield power over. All bravado, no balls.

You ultimately came because he might be able to be reasoned with in person.

His voice beckons you in when you knock.

“Close it,” He orders from his desk when you enter.

“I prefer it stay open.”

He looks up with austerity from the document he’s studying. “I said close it.”

You stay put in front of the ajar door, staring him down.

He shakes his head and pushes himself up from his desk, stalking over and reaching past you to yank the door closed with an irritable eyebrow quirk. You hear the lock click in the deafening silence.

He throws his head in the direction of his desk and the chair in front of it. “Take a seat. And don’t fucking argue.”

You roll your eyes behind him but follow him over.

As you sit, Professor Peña situates himself at the front of his desk, his ass indenting against the protruding edge and his hands gripping it on either side of him. Your knees don’t quite touch, but they’re daring to.

He delivers an appraising look up your body, which is still clad in the same jeans and t-shirt.

“Jesus, you really do look better with nothing on if this is the shit you’re choosing to wear.”

“Oh, so you do remember the bullshit you pulled the other night,” You say with a nod, “Was starting to think maybe you forgot.”

His brow furrows. “Why the hell would I forget? What, did you think I was gonna whip my dick out in the classroom the second I saw you?”

You shrug. “How am I supposed to know the depth of your depravity? Anyway, why the fuck am I here?”

“Well,” Professor Peña sighs, looping a thumb over his black leather belt, “since it seems to me that you’re having trouble opening your mouth in class and filling it with anything of substance…” He slides his hand to the silver buckle and gives it a small tug, “Thought maybe I’d offer you a private lesson.”

Your eyes dart from his belt to his face, which is rich with smug satisfaction that you want to smack right off.

“Not a fucking chance in hell, dude,” You respond, leaning back in your chair.

His smirk only creeps wider as he leans forward in response, caging you into your seat with his hands on your armrests. “Funny, I’m not really presenting this as a suggestion.”

You glower back at him, slamming your hands down on top of his and digging your nails into his flesh. “Back the fuck off, old man.”

The motherfucker barely blinks. “It appears you might be forgetting that I’m the one with the power here.”

“Are you? Because I’ve decided I don’t give a fuck if you share my pictures, dude. Go ahead and fucking do it. It’s not like they can kick me off campus for being the victim of revenge porn, and I can deal with the blowback. You don’t fucking scare me.”

That has him retracting his hands from your chair and reclining against his desk again, a swell of pride burning inside you when you see half-moon indents in his skin. He looks up at the ceiling in thought, tapping his fingers against the desk. “Maybe the pictures aren’t what you should be worried about.”

He doesn’t expound any further, and after several beats of silence you prod, “Fine, I’ll bite. What should I be worried about, professor?”

He lifts a hand to his chin, rubbing it with his fingers. “Didn’t I see you snorting coke on campus the other day? Before class?”

The accusation takes you aback. Your eyes narrow on him, studying his face. “What the fuck are you talking about? I barely even smoke weed.”

Professor Peña shifts his weight, crossing his arms on his broad chest. “Mmm, no, I’m pretty sure I saw you in possession of illegal stimulants on campus. Sure enough to report it, too.”

He squints his eyes in further thought, making a slight pout with his lips. “Could probably back it up with evidence, as well. I’d hate to find a dime bag on you after our next class.”

This fucker. This two-faced, sadistic fucker.

“You fucking wouldn’t.”

He winces as if in pity, baring his teeth in a faux-pained expression. “I would, actually. I’m mandated to report illegal drug possession for the safety of the campus.”

“Dean Hansen would never believe that—”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Baby, I’ve got Dean Hansen in my back fucking pocket,” He brags. “Not to mention having her in the backseat of my car, having on her knees in her own goddamn office. Where the fuck do you think I get it in between bimbo college sluts like you?”

You scoff incredulously, rolling your eyes. “You are not sleeping with Dean Hansen.”

“I’ve got the bitch on speed dial, sweetheart. Should we find out?” He rounds his desk and takes his own seat, lifting the phone off its hook.

You leap out of your seat and extend a hand, “Please don’t.”

He pauses with his finger above the keypad. He makes a single tilt of his head toward his crotch.

Your eyes follow his indication and your resolve begins to shudder. “Please…don’t. Don’t make me do this.”

Without taking his eyes off you, he presses a button on his speed dial and leans back in his chair with the phone cradled at his ear. Tangible silence flows between you as you both wait.

Then his face alights. “Hey, Deb. Javi.”

“Shit,” You whisper, practically diving around his desk and onto your knees, looking up at him with pleading desperation.

His head dips, gesturing toward his crotch again. He chuckles into the phone. “No, for once I am not calling for that. It’s actually concerning a student of mine.”

His eyes stay locked on yours, waiting.

A string of curse words color the inside of your head as your hands find his belt, fingers fumbling over themselves as you undo the buckle and fastenings of his pants.

“I’m fairly certain I caught her doing drugs in an alcove inside the Whitmore Building a few days ago.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” You chant under your breath as you jerk down his boxers to reveal his cock, hard and thick against his thigh. You wrap a hand around him without preamble, stroking him rapidly. “Please hang up.”

He ignores your request entirely.

“On top of that, she’s been acting increasingly erratic in my class.” He reclines slightly in his chair and mimes licking his palm as he glances down at you. You huff and spit into your own, immediately returning to his length with a more acceptable glide.

He muffles the bottom of the phone, pulling it away from his face and whispering, “That’s a girl. Now put it in your mouth.”

So we’re really doing this, you think. This is what we’ve been reduced to.

You don’t allow yourself to spiral. Not now, not with him on the phone with the fucking dean of students. You ground yourself with a solid breath and lean in.

You encapsulate the head with wet suction, rubbing your tongue up against the underside and teasing the slit with his precome dribbling out. He stares down at you with hooded eyes, working his free hand into your hair to hold it.

“Right now I think I’ll just keep my eye on her. Don’t wanna get her in trouble if I’m mistaken, after all.” He rolls his hips up, pushing more of him into your mouth as you open for him. “She seems like a good girl. Wouldn’t wanna ruin her.”

You gag on him as quietly as you can manage, his movements making your eyes water and your mouth salivate.

“Maybe I’ll call you later, Deb,” He offers noncommittally into the phone, saying a final goodbye and hanging up. He lets out a heavy sigh and readjusts his grip on your hair. “See? You do as I ask, no harm done.”

You whimper around him as his eyes slide shut, allowing himself to feel you around him as he rocks his hips into you.

“Such filthy head from a filthy whore. If I gave you enough incentive you’d probably let me buy and sell you like fucking cattle to the rest of the faculty, baby.”

He eases your head off his cock, spit clinging to the tip. He slaps the head against your lips wetly before rubbing it over the heated skin of your cheek and then poises it back at your mouth.

“And you know what the best part is?” He smirks as he bends over, using his grip on your hair to tilt your face up to him. “That wasn’t even the dean.”

The surprise on your features is still evident as he thrusts back into your mouth with a grunt, using you to fulfill his pleasure.

“Down on your knees, whoring yourself over an empty phone line. How does that make you feel, sweetheart?” He asks, fully aware your ability to answer is being hindered by his own doing. His own cock stretching your lips and stuffing your mouth.

His head presses into the back of his cushioned chair as he invades your mouth, his jaw hanging open as he thrusts and mutters in Spanish, “Sucia puta. Así.”

The closer he gets, the harder he grabs at your scalp, pressing you down into his lap. He finally comes with a prolonged groan and a flurry of Spanish you don’t quite catch. He doesn’t warn you, just shoots every drop of himself into your overflowing mouth and straight down your throat, forcing you to swallow.

You cough as he releases you, falling onto your hands and knees and wiping all manner of fluid from your face with your sleeve. He’s the picture of bliss above you, panting with a smug smile teasing his lips.

“You’re fucking sick. Out of your fucking mind,” You grit out at him.

He shrugs, balancing his elbows on his thighs. “And you’ll keep doing what I say, when I say it, until I decide I’m done with you.”

Your eyes mist over as the thought of your new normal trickles through your brain. “Why are you doing this to me? Like, truly, why?” You plead.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he placates, cupping your jaw in his hand and looking deep into your eyes with the most devastating quasi-sympathy from his endless molten brown ones.

“Because I can.”

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little-diable · 2 months

Text

Oh, professor - modern!Tommy Shelby (smut)

Another piece written with lovely @zablife – it's always great fun with you, babe. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: What happens when you spend a mind-blowing night with a man you thought you'd never see again? What happens when that man turns up at your class as one of your students? Will you be able to let him and your shared memories go or will he find a way to keep you close?

Warnings: 18+, lots of smut, piv, power play, age gap, professor x student relationship

Pairing: Professor!fem!reader x student!Tommy Shelby (6k words)

moodboard by @zablife

The room was dark, well almost, no light flooded through the bedroom besides the light of the streetlamps breaking through the dark curtains, casting a bright shadow. A shadow you probably would have paid more attention to if it weren’t for the position you had been willingly forced into, cheek pressed to a soft pillow, hips raised off the mattress.

Your moans echoed through his bedroom, loud enough to wake any nearby neighbours, forcing heat to rise in their systems at the almost pornographic sounds. The two of you were a mess of tangled limbs, of sweaty bodies searching one another’s closeness for the third time that night.

Your mind was too hazy to remember how you had managed to end up in the apartment of a stranger, a man you had flirted with from the second you had run into one another at your go-to bar, drawing you away from your group of friends. Perhaps it had been the fault of his bright eyes, piercing pupils that had burned holes into your warm skin; perhaps it had been the fault of the charming accent that had shot tingles down your spine; but perhaps it had simply been the fault of the way he had stared at you, marvelled even, as if you were the finest creation known to humankind.

Even though you weren’t one for going home with men you barely knew, hell, you barely left your home at all, fully focused on the courses you were teaching, and on the papers you had to grade, this man had something different to him, something you didn’t want to let go of again. You weren’t one for distractions, and kept your focus on your work, the one thing you loved wholeheartedly. But there had been something about the man who was at least twenty years older than you, hair graced by greyish specks that had drawn your attention to him from the first moment.

“Look at you, close to cumming again, aren’t you, love?” His raspy voice filled the bedroom, no longer could you reply, at least not verbally, opting to moan his name with your eyes squeezed shut. Tommy had his hand buried in your hair, keeping your cheek pressed to the pillow as he fucked you ruthlessly, already knowing your body better than any ex-boyfriend after years of being together.

“Talk to me, let me hear that pretty voice of yours.” You struggled to fight through the hazy fog of lust his touch forced to spread out through your system, heart chasing uneven beats with your hands fisting the covers all too tightly. A few more moans clawed through you, mind racing to try and pierce some words together, anything, to give the man what he was asking of you.

“Fuck, Tommy, ‘m so close, so so close.” An almost gleeful chuckle left the man who momentarily tightened his grip on your waist, forcing his cock even deeper into your tightness. Your walls had a tight grip on him, unable to hold on for much longer. Without even having to ask him to, Tommy’s hand wandered from your waist to your pulsing overstimulated bundle, circling it with his lips pulled into a devilish smirk.

With his name leaving your swollen lips like a prayer spoken on a Sunday morning, you came on his cock, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted. But he didn’t stop fucking you, fully focused on his own high now that yours had been pushed through you once again, allowing him to use your body. The gritty sounds leaving him left you grinning proudly, face painted by a blissful expression.

He came a few moments after you, pulling out to get rid of yet another condom before he found his way back to you, pulling you in for a slow kiss, “I think it’s finally time for a bath, eh? Don’t want you passing out on me before we get you cleaned up.”

……

You hurried past the row of old oaks, eyes squinting slightly at the bright sunshine flashing sharply through the branches. The clacking of your heels against the stone added to the pounding in your head and you could only hope it would cease before class began. As you entered through the heavy double doors, you shifted the strap of your bag and rummaged inside for the paracetamol you stashed in case of emergency.

The building was already bustling with activity, the noise of overlapping conversations echoing off the domed ceiling. Preoccupied by your continuing search for something to stop the pain behind your eyes, you collided with someone’s shoulder. As your head jerked up in surprise, you found your colleague, Charlotte, wobbling slightly in an attempt to balance her coffee cup. Reaching out to help her, you quickly apologized. “Sorry, my fault!”

“It’s alright, I should know better than to wander the halls this late in the morning. It’s bloody chaos,” she chuckled.

Furrowing her brow at you she asked, “What are you doing out here? You’re always two hours early the first day!”

Her look of concern soon turned to impish delight when she noticed the medicine bottle in your hand. Her eyebrow arched as she leaned in conspiratorially, “Took my advice and had some fun for a change?”

You hesitated for a moment before a grin began tugging at the corners of your mouth. “I might have,” you teased.

A little gasp escaped her lips as she exclaimed, “I knew it!”

Biting your lip at the memory of the evening before, you added, “He was incredible, Char. Even if I never see him again, it was…really something.”

“Tell me everything,” she continued excitedly, nearly tripping over her own feet to keep with you as you resumed your brisk walk.

You shook your head gently, trying to retain a shred of professionalism. “Not within earshot of the roomful of students I’ll be teaching for the next four months,” you laughed as you came to a stop outside the lecture hall.

“Alright, but I want to hear about this later!” She called after you as you gave the door a nudge with your shoulder.

“Yeah, we’ll have lunch,” you promised, turning your attention toward the sea of faces awaiting you.

Normally you would have arrived before anyone else, papers stacked neatly and laptop open and waiting. Your first year you even practiced a few greetings, nervous that your voice might tremble in a decided lack of authority. As the youngest professor on the faculty, you still felt the roots of anxiety burrowing inside your stomach at times, especially as you awaited the inevitable test from one entitled little shit or another. You found yourself having to work twice as hard as your colleagues to be taken seriously.

Tossing your bag onto a chair, you tried not to think of the few who might cause you problems and focus on the scores of others who were there to learn. Ready to get to work, you quickly began twisting your hair into a top knot and mentally reviewed what you’d like to cover first. When you were ready, you walked to the front of the room and introduced yourself in the prepared speech you were accustomed to, including all pertinent information to the class. You watched as heads bowed and arms shifted occasionally, the gentle whisper of keys tapping out notes. When you’d finished, you asked for questions, receiving only the shuffle of feet and a few scattered coughs in reply.

In the moment of stillness, you found your thoughts wandering with the particles of dust dancing in the light. Suddenly your mind was as clouded as your field of vision, imagining the trickle of sweat between your breasts, slick against Tommy’s chest as you glided over him. You swallowed hard imagining his strong hands trailing your skin as you felt goosebumps begin to prickle the back of your neck and forearms. Chin raised to his sapphire blue eyes, you swore you could see him smiling back at you now with that same satisfied grin he wore when you fell apart beneath him.

“Professor Y/l/n?” A girl in the front row called to you, snapping you back to reality. You attempted to focus on her question, but your eyes darted to a place beyond her right shoulder uncooperatively. The profile and hair were so familiar, it was distracting. Then as the students in front parted slightly, you inhaled sharply. Taken aback, you stuttered out the last few words of your sentence in embarrassingly inarticulate speech, too overcome by the sight of the man you’d been daydreaming about moments earlier. You hadn’t imagined the intensity of his blue eyes. Tommy was actually here!

You struggled to comprehend it. Was he a student? He hadn’t mentioned university studies. Could he be following you? That’s ridiculous, you chided yourself. If he was a student, you certainly wouldn’t be able to have sex with him again. Oh, but he looked amazing in that blue jumper that matched his eyes. There were far too many thoughts to process at once and the headache from before was only intensifying. You quickly dismissed class and gathered your things, slipping between the throng of people exiting.

…..

Y/n, I tried to find you after class and lost you in the crowd. You weren’t in your office so I assumed this was the best way to contact you. Can I see you again? Tommy Shelby

You closed the email-app, biting the inside of your cheek. He’d clearly been thinking of you as much as you were thinking of him, but you still weren’t sure how to proceed considering how little you knew about him. So you did what any curious woman in your position would do. You googled him.

Sitting cross-legged on the sofa with a glass of wine in one hand and your phone in the other, you scrolled until you’d learned as much about Thomas Michael Shelby as possible. The results were impressive, to say the least, from his countless business ventures to his myriad of titles. Without realizing, you’d lost an hour to image searches alone of him in tuxedos at fancy galas thrown by influential figures. He was a man who could have anything or anyone he wanted. Brow furrowed in concentration, you wondered what he was doing in your advanced seminar on Dante’s work. There was only one way to find out.

Mr. Shelby, I apologize you were unable to reach me on the first day, but as my syllabus states, office hours do not begin until next week. I’m available to meet Monday if you have any questions. Prof Y/l/n

……

Your eyes glanced at the wall clock one last time before giving up all hope Tommy would appear. Not that you blamed him for losing interest. Your email was overly formal and you winced every time you read it, but it had to remain professional.

Reluctantly rising from your desk, you stretched and gave a long, disappointed sigh. “Doesn’t matter” you mumbled as you locked the office door and turned to leave. The moment your shoulder swiveled left, you collided into the toned planes of a man’s chest and strong arms instinctively caged yours to steady you.

“Mr. Shelby,” you exclaimed with more than a bit of shock tinging your voice.

“Y/n,” he hummed, bending down to retrieve the bag you dropped. Extending it toward you, he quirked an eyebrow as he asked, “May I ask why it’s Mr. Shelby now? Didn’t know you fancied a bit of role-play or am I forgetting something about our evening together?” An amused smirk painted his handsome features at his little joke, eyes dancing with mischief.

You accepted your bag, cheeks growing hot as you retorted, “I could ask you the same of you, hitting on your teacher.” Then you added cautiously, “I should warn you that it’s against the rules for me to see you now that you’re enrolled in my class.” Beginning your walk toward the stairs, you slowed your gait as Tommy huffed out a laugh.

“Ah, so that’s it. I’ve been a naughty pupil,” he exclaimed. Capturing your elbow in a gentle grasp he turned you to face him as he pondered seductively, “What will you do with me now?”

“Can I ask you a question?” you prodded, considering him with a serious expression. Tommy’s face soon mirrored yours as he realized you weren’t playing his game and his hand dropped from your arm. “Why did you seek me out here? I did a bit of research on you, you know,” you revealed. “You have to admit it looks a bit odd, a king of import/export taking a class in poetry?” you wondered aloud.

Tommy closed the gap between you, an earnest look taking hold as he spoke. “Beauty awakens the soul to act,” he said, holding your gaze with those insufferably clear blue eyes.

“You’re here so the beauty of the written word should uplift you?” you asked doubtfully, tilting your head at him.

His large hand cupped your face as he drew nearer. “I think we both know the real reason I’m here,” he whispered, leaning toward you until you could feel the heat of his breath against your cheek. “I want you,” he said with the certainty of a man who always has the coin land in his favor.

You pressed your palms against his broad chest, heart pounding wildly at the closeness of him. “I could get into a lot of trouble for this,” you reminded him breathlessly.

“Only if we get caught,” he countered, hand slipping down your side to grasp your hip firmly. “Don’t you want to live a little?” he prodded with a squeeze.

Your head was spinning as you fought the overwhelming desire threatening to consume you. “Yes…and I want you too…but…,” you protested half heartedly.

“Then that’s all I need to hear,” he said as his hand dipped beneath your skirt to push your underwear aside. You gasped at the feeling of the cool air and the lazy swipe of his finger through your wet folds.

“You’re soaking,” he hummed against your open mouth with satisfaction, plunging two thick fingers into your inviting warmth. He quickly swallowed your wanton moan with a deep kiss and you melted into him without hesitation, any thought of further denial dying on your lips. He licked into your mouth with ravenous appetite, fighting you for dominance in a way that made his cock twitch. As your hips began rutting against his palm for the pleasure you knew he could provide, he praised your eagerness. “Take what you need,” he urged against the shell of your ear.

But the clicking of heels and the echo of voices descending the stairs soon drew your attention. As they came nearer to your position, Tommy maneuvered you into the shadows of the stairwell away from their view and kept you pressed impossibly close.

For a moment you thought you were safe, Tommy returning to his ministrations. Your heart thundered in your chest at the thrill of him rolling your swollen clit beneath his thumb while he nipped and sucked at your exposed throat. It was a dangerous move, however, a guttural cry escaping your lips despite your attempt to suppress it.

Suddenly a man’s voice asked, “Did you hear something?”

You stopped breathing momentarily as you pressed your face into Tommy’s neck, his digits still pressed tantalizingly against your g-spot.

“I don’t think so, Howard,” a woman replied, hand sliding down the bannister so close to your head you could smell her perfume.

You gulped harshly as Tommy withdrew from you, leaving you clenching around nothing. He brought his slick fingers to his mouth and you panted at the sight of him relishing the taste of you. With a wink, he disappeared quickly out the side door as you attempted to make yourself presentable again.

Moments later your colleagues found you patting your hair down and adjusting your bag in frenzied, awkwardness.

“Professor Y/l/n, we were just talking about the upcoming welcome dinner,” Dr. Baker said with a warm smile. He prattled on, oblivious to your eyes darting over his shoulder to watch Tommy sauntering across the courtyard. Turning to glance back at you, you noticed he was still lazily sucking his fingers. The obvious delight in the curl of his sinful lips caused your thighs to clench and your clit to throb, the overwhelming need to finish what you began frustrating you beyond belief. Your skin felt as though it had been set ablaze, thighs rubbing together unconsciously as you watched him fade from view.

“…fingers,” Dr. Baker finished, looking at you inquisitively and you realized you’d missed what came before that. Had he seen Tommy’s lewd display as well?

“Excuse me?” you asked, paranoia chilling the warmth in your cheeks like a bucket of ice water dumped over your head.

“I said my wife will bring her signature dessert, ladyfingers,” he repeated.

“Yes, of course! I’m looking forward to it very much,” you agreed with an overly enthusiastic smile. Then you excused yourself home.

……

Ever since that moment with Tommy, you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from wrecking your head about the what ifs racing through your mind. Even though your night with Tommy had been something you had never experienced before, you couldn’t risk losing your position within the university, especially not for a situation like this. But no matter how hard you tried to shake these thoughts, forcing yourself to focus on the welcome dinner you were about to join, the thoughts of him seemed to follow you around like a shadow sewn to your boots.

Familiar faces smiled at you as you stepped into the room, hand stroking down the soft fabric of your dress to try and collect yourself, putting on your best smile. This evening was all about making an impression, all about crossing paths with those that were important for your career, hoping to leave them impressed about your determination, your work drive.

“(Y/n)! There you are.” Charlotte’s voice left you smiling, a sincere smile that wasn’t as fake as the one you had worn just a minute ago. She pulled you in for a short hug before you greeted some other colleagues standing close. “Did you see Lizzie? The things I��d do for the man she brought as her date are unspeakable.”

The words Charlotte whispered towards you left you chuckling, at least as your gaze kept combing through the crowd of colleagues, trying to find Lizzie’s face. You had never been the biggest fan of her, not of her personality, not of her way of teaching, trying to keep a friendly though respected distance to her. But your laugh got stuck in your throat as your eyes found the piercing ones of her date – Tommy fucking Shelby.

Charlotte must have picked up on the way you grew tense, mistaking it for interest in the handsome man making his way towards your small group, arm wrapped around Lizzie’s waist. Your breath hitched in your chest the second the scent of his expensive cologne clashed against your front like a tidal wave set on drowning you, a scent that instantly reminded you of the way he had fucked you in his bedroom, how he had marked you as if you were only his to love.

“May I introduce you to my date, Tommy Shelby.” Lizzie kept on introducing Tommy to the other colleagues, blissfully unaware of the way his gaze kept wandering back to you, sporting an unmistakable smirk on his lips. Heat rose to your face as Lizzie finally turned towards you, about to speak your name, though interrupted by the murmur of your name rolling off Tommy’s tongue.

“Professor Y/l/n, it’s good to see you again.” His hand found yours, pressing a featherlight kiss to the back of your hand, a gesture that left you breathless; a gesture that left Lizzie visibly seething.

“Mister Shelby.” You nodded at him, suddenly feeling all too uncomfortable with all eyes focusing on you, wondering where you knew the man from. Just for the sake of dethroning Lizzie, not wanting to endure the arrogant smile she wore, you debated telling them of your escapades with the man – yet these were all too intimate, not daring to leave your painted lips. “Mister Shelby joined my class for this semester.”

Your eyes wandered through your small group, explaining the short interaction to the others, trying not to spare the grin Charlotte now wore any of your attention. You’d deal with her later, letting her in on the reasons for the tension growing between you, Tommy, and Lizzie. Before either one could speak another sentence, you were interrupted by the voice of the dean hallowing through the room.

“May I ask for your attention? It’s so good to see so many of you here tonight!!” The woman kept speaking, staring at the crowd with a smile so bright you feared for the way the corners of her mouth would start burning soon. But the second you felt a hand on the small of your back, you shifted your attention away from her, eyes finding Tommy’s, even in the darkness you were now engulfed by.

“Meet me in the hallway in thirty minutes.”

……

“Come,” Tommy took your hand, eyes set ahead with his smirk still playing on his lips. For just a second you allowed yourself to take him in, to look at the lips you had kissed a while ago, already aching for his taste once again. Fuck you had it deep for the man, unable to tear yourself away, unable to shake the sensations he had pushed through your body.

“Where are we going?” Your whispers were left unanswered, Tommy opened a door for you, pushing you into the dark room before anybody else could see the two of you. He pressed you against the now closed door, lips finding yours in the dark. The moan that clawed through you was raspy, vibrating with lust, with a special kind of pleasure only he could make you feel.

“Fuck, wait.” You pushed him away, hands firmly placed on his chest, trying not to spare the feeling of his tense muscles beneath your fingers a thought. “What about Lizzie, your date?”

“Oh, love, I’m not interested in Lizzie, you know that.” The chuckles that rumbled through Tommy left you panting, not understanding why he was toying with Lizzie and with you. "I came because I knew I’d find you here, I needed to see you again.”

You didn’t get the chance to reply, shut up by his lips finding yours. The feeling of his fingers on your body was enough to distract you from your thoughts, keeping quiet, not wanting to interrupt the sensation once again. A fire was burning inside you, a fire so strong you feared Tommy would melt you, burned to the ground by his wandering hands and the smirk that could make the devil blush.

“I want to make you scream my name, let them hear who you belong to.” Tommy’s words left you moaning, eyes fluttering close as he kissed his way down your throat, hands disappearing beneath your dress. You were pulled closer, feeling his clothed, hardening cock against your damp panties. The pants that ripped through you left Tommy smirking against your skin, all too aware of the power he held over you. “But we wouldn’t want to risk your reputation.”

Tommy let go of you, feeling as if cold water had just been dumped over your burning body, instantly missing his touch. For a few seconds, he stared at you in the darkness before he dipped his head down once again, lips ghosting over yours, “Call me on your way home, and I’ll come to find you like I always will.”

“Fuck, Tommy, wait.” You couldn’t let him go, it felt as if you were burning, your body on fire from just a few simple touches. With your arms finding their way around his neck, you pulled him close once again. The kiss you pressed against his lips left your heart racing in excitement, moaning as Tommy moved you back. Within seconds you found yourself placed on top of a table, thighs pushed open by his wandering hands.

“You’re such a greedy girl, look at you, weeping for my touch, for my cock. We’ll have to be quick.” Another moan tore through you, eyes fluttering close as his warm breath clashed against your cunt. His tongue brushed your arousal-covered folds, groaning at the taste he had been thinking of ever since he had fucked you, a taste he thought of as Tommy fucked his hand to the thought of you at any given chance.

“Oh fuck, your mouth is deadly.” Tommy chuckled against your skin, eyes flickering up to your pleasure-drunken features. Two fingers were forced into your tightness, curling them against the spot that left you breathless. He knew exactly how to push you to your limits, knew exactly how to make you see the stars he had shown to you the last time he had fucked you ruthlessly.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet, love, I’ll never get enough of you.” Tommy was a starving man, a man who would claim you at any given chance. And you were his salvation, the rescue he had long given up on, the lifeline that would stop him from drowning in the darkness he had befriended years ago.

Your clit pulsed against his warm tongue, knowing that you’d cum any moment now. With your eyes set on Tommy, you covered your mouth, knowing that you couldn’t be silent, not when he fucked you with his fingers; not when he ate you out like no other man ever had. And as your head rolled back, eyes squeezed shut, Tommy pulled you even closer, pushing the awaited high through your trembling body.

Tommy kept fucking you with his fingers, smirking against your bundle of nerves as he watched you fall apart, only pulling away as a shaky exhale left you. Wordlessly, you pulled him in for one last kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“I’ll see you later, love, be a good girl and I’ll reward you later.”

……

An hour later, you fell out of the lift with a little giggle on your lips, Tommy’s strong arms catching you before you tripped. “Do have the entire floor?” you asked in amazement.

“The building actually,” he replied with no attempt at modesty. There hadn’t been much small talk during your first visit or you might have learned that. However, you did remember the incredible view, courtesy of the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the city.

The lights gleamed back at you in a glittering array of colors that seemed endless, much like the vast expanse of the room where you now stood.

“Well, you might have more real estate, but I certainly have more books,” you noted with a firm nod. Spinning in a tight circle, you looked at the near empty shelves around you. “Where do you keep yours?”

Tommy smirked at you as he came closer, hooking an arm around your waist as he answered your question with one of his own. “Would you like to see?”

You bit your lip and nodded in reply, feeling his hand wander down your backside with a gentle squeeze. Kicking off your heels, your feet glided along the polished hardwood to stop in the doorway of a home office. The room was much more inviting with tall shelves full of leather back volumes and photos.

“Take a look over there, professor.” He pointed over your shoulder, directing your gaze to a desk in the corner. Your eyebrows went up in shock as you approached and saw the assigned reading for your class open to the correct page.

As your fingers traced the familiar words, you felt Tommy’s warm breath upon your neck, “Do I get a gold star?” he asked, brushing the hair from your shoulder to replace it with a kiss.

“I’m impressed you know what we’re studying this week,” you admitted. Quirking your eyebrow at him playfully, you added, “But have you actually read it?”

You felt him smirk against your skin as he admitted, “I was hoping you’d give me a private lesson.”

Slightly distracted by the featherlight kisses he placed along the delicate skin from your ear to your throat. And even more so when they turned to gentle nips, you huffed out a little laugh. “Is that so?"

His only reply was the warmth of his palms, skating along the sides of your body. Fingers massaging deep, insistent circles into your hipbones and raising your dress up to your waist until he had revealed your ass to the cool air.

“I think you could be persuaded,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. The sight of dark lace coming into view caused his dick to twitch and he couldn’t resist reaching out to cup your warm heat, stroking along the gusset of your underwear. An impish grin spread across your face as you captured his hand suddenly.

“Alright then. My class, my rules,” you explained. Handing him the book, you instructed him to begin reading without stopping. Tommy’s brow furrowed slightly before noticing your hands had slipped to his belt, the jingle of the metal and the zip of his trousers the only sounds in the room.

“Well?” you prodded as you proceeded to undress him from the waist down. “Let me hear you,” you demanded with a peck to his lips.

Biting his lip as though he were trying to decide, Tommy complied the moment you sank to your knees. The first sentence boomed into the quiet space confidently as you reached for his already erect cock. However, his voice hitched slightly when your warm breath met his skin, even more so when your tongue darted out to lick the first glistening drops of precum.

“Oh, fuck…” he muttered, as you began licking up one side and down the other in slow, even strokes of your tongue.

“I don’t remember that part,” you joked as your hand closed over his length to begin pumping him gently. Tongue laving over him in tantalizing patterns, his voice grew shaky, a near whisper remaining of his commanding tone.

By the time you took him into your throat, he could barely think through the fog of pleasure. His head felt full of cotton and the words suddenly uncooperative when he attempted to recite them.

Releasing him with a wet pop, you placed a few open mouth kisses along his length to slow his desire and return his attention to the task. Then you asked sweetly, “Will you read a bit more?”

“M not sure,” he confessed with a shudder, composure slipping further as your thumb brushed over his sensitive tip.

“Go on,” you urged, fondling his balls and scratching lightly with your fingernails. Sucking on his reddened tip, you looked up through your lashes at him and swore you saw him suppress a whimper, but he attempted to continue.

Although he tried to control it, the clenching of his muscular thighs beneath your palm soon gave away his need for release and you set a devilish pace you knew he couldn’t resist. Releasing small staccato breaths, his hips jerked forward, hand clutching your hair in a desperate attempt to ground himself.

Tommy only managed two more words before his resolve snapped, pulling you from the floor and turning you to face the desk in one swift movement. You moaned as his large palm pressed against your back, bending you over the desk to rip your thong away. He kicked your legs apart to give himself greater access before entering you with one deep thrust.

A grunt of relief passed his lips as he held himself there to feel you pulse around him, savoring the tight grip of your pussy. The moment didn’t last long, the overwhelming urge to pound into you overtaking him. He quickly wound your hair in his hand before tugging you back to meet his first thrusts of raw need and your hands shot out for something to grasp hold of.

Gripping the edges of the desk tightly, you could hear the squelching sounds as Tommy drove into you relentlessly. Your own desperate pants were drowned out by the noise of skin slapping harshly as your body began to bounce back against him. The brutal pace he set lit a fire in your belly as he arrowed himself into you perfectly, hitting that sweet spot deep within.

Every drag of his cock against your sensitive walls pushing you to the brink, your body keening and arching in response. Tommy eventually slowed to watch you unravel. The pride in his voice evident as he mumbled lustfully, “Taking me so well.”

He reached forward to fondle the globe of your breast, rolling your pert nipple in his fingers and pinching to hear your sweet little gasps. The delicious combination sent sparks of pleasure zinging through your body, overwhelming your senses until you were flooded with euphoria.

Thighs beginning to shake from aftershocks, your hips dug further into the wooden desk as you collapsed forward in utter exhaustion. Tommy soon followed, hips stuttering against your backside before he pulled out. You whimpered at the loss of him just as you felt the warm spurts of his release against your ass. If not for Tommy cleaning you off and carrying you to bed, you might not have made it on your own.

It was certainly no surprise when the bright rays of the morning sun woke you instead of your alarm. Your evening of passion had once again made you late for work, but this time you decided to take a much deserved day off.

Rolling over to find your discarded purse, you rang Lizzie. As you thought of what to say, you gathered the sheet and wrapped it around you, walking as quietly as possible to the hall. When you heard her pick up on the other end of the line, you immediately began to ramble.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re in. Of course you are. Well…I…I have a small favor, Lizzie.” Not quite reaching the point before you felt something brush against your arm. You could hear her heavy sigh of annoyance just as you caught sight of Tommy, tugging at the corner of the sheet until he’d left you naked.

With an impish grin, he began kissing you, beginning at your temple. You bit your lip as you tried to concentrate on your call, asking if she might take over for you this morning.

“Yes, just the two classes this morning,” you confirmed as Tommy’s head began to dip lower, lips grazing your shoulder and then your breast. You stifled a squeal as his tongue swirled the pebbled flesh around your nipple and gave a sudden bite, apologizing to her as you explained. “No, I, uh…burned myself.”

Tommy frowned at you as you tried to bat him away. Seductively pushing you against the wall as you listened to Lizzie begin a list of her own demands. “Well, alright, but when you return I’ll expect a trade. If you could…”

Just then Tommy sunk to his knees, pushing your thighs apart and swiping his tongue through your folds before you could clamp your legs shut again. He sat back on his heels. “C’mon love,” he begged quietly.

“Is that a man's voice?” Lizzie asked sharply. Then with a gasp of recognition she said, “Tommy Shelby!”

“No, of course not. I have to go, Lizzie!” you rushed out in a single breath, hanging up before Tommy could open his mouth again.

“You’re going to get me fired!” you hissed at him playfully as he raised from the ground to kiss you good morning.

“They wouldn’t dare,” he promised, cool blue eyes shining back at you. You scrunched your nose at him skeptically, “And if they did?”

“You could be my tutor,” he offered as you broke into a fit of giggles. “I quite enjoyed last night’s lesson. In fact, I think I need another,” he began earnestly before his eyes crinkled with a mischievous grin. “Turns out I’m a terrible pupil. I have to study constantly,” he added with a dramatic shake of his head.

Then without warning, he scooped you up and hauled you back to bed as your shrieks of laughter echoed down the hall.

#Tommy Shelby smut #Tommy Shelby x reader #professor fic #Tommy Shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders smut #lee and chi at it again

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yndrgrl · 10 months

Note

Could u do a aizawa fic pls

you found a new job under yandere! aizawa as a nanny for his cute kid

age gap. quirkless! au. soft! yandere. dom! aizawa

warning: nsfw, stalking, smacking/slapping, slight coercion??, punishment, daddy kink, sir kink, creampie

a/n: yayyy, first request 🥳 idk if you wanted a fluff or spicy fanfic... so i chose spicy haha. also sorry for taking so long, i just started a new job :0

---

it was a chance encounter, you truly believed. your first year of college just came to a close, & now you had too much free time while the money in your bank account was slowly declining. even if you saved as much as possible, you'd still end up spending all of your money then you'd have to dip into your savings account-- something that you didn't want to do.

so that began your search for a job. you used websites, applied in-person. you thought your resume was solid enough to land a job by now. but no. even though they claimed they were desperately hiring, they never hired you. some had the curtesy to at least let you know that they weren't going to go with you; the rest completely ghosted you. from receptionist to substitute teacher to bank teller, they all rejected you.

it was extremely frustrating to go through the interviewing process then you were ultimately rejected. it was as if someone had it out for you.

that chance encounter happened while you were on the phone with your best friend. you sat at a small round table in a cafe you frequent often.

"i just don't get it, jirou!" you exasperated, taking a sip from your drink. you let out a heavy sigh. with how much effort you've put into finding a new job, you should've been paid.

"i'm sure momo's dad has a job for you," the girl on the other line tried to assure. she was on her daily jog, so she was slightly out of breath as she spoke.

with your face propped in your hand, you responded, "we already tried. all the available positions are for people with like, actual degrees or something. besides, we're not close enough for her to make a whole new job for me."

"i'm sure a job will fall right into your lap," jirou said, rustles of clothes being picked up in the phone microphone. in some sort of messed-up irony, she was getting ready for work. the universe just loved toying with you.

you took a breath in to exclaim how much you needed the money, needed a job, when a man pulled out the chair across from your table. "i'm sorry, i don't mean to be rude & eavesdrop," he began, catching your attention.

"sorry jirou, i'll call you back in just a sec," you whispered, then you hung up. "um, sorry, can i help you?" you took mental note of his appearance-- you know, just in case something happens in this very public, very populated cafe.

just by looks, you'd assume he was in his early thirties. his jet black hair was tied into a bun, stray strands framing his face. there were bags under his eyes-- along with a noticeable scar under his left one. though his disheveled appearance, he took care of himself; his stubble was even & maintained. his shirt was tight around his arms & his chest, & you could faintly make out the shape of his muscles. & god, were they big. he was alluring, with that slight smirk of his.

he would've intimidated you, maybe even set off red flags if he didn't have a toddler bouncing on his leg, tugging his hair out of its bun. she bubbled words & strung together incoherent sentences in beg of attention of her dad.

"i apologize again, i really didn't mean to eavesdrop," he repeated. "it's just i couldn't help but overhear you were looking for a job?"

"yes!" you exclaimed, clearing your throat with an embarrassed blush on your face. "i am looking for a job."

"are you interested in being a live-in nanny for my little girl?"

it was a chance encounter, you truly believed.

the job & its perks were almost too perfect, but you're not complaining. you got to move into the basement of his suburban home for free, he would cook you breakfast & make sure the fridge & cabinets were well-stocked. for nearly $25 an hour, you were living the dream.

eri, his -adoptive- daughter, was an absolute gem as well. she was a cheery toddler who loves life. she's not a picky eater, she loves picking out her own outfits, & if you turned off her show, she would pout for a little bit then bounce back for the next activity. never once has she screamed & shouted. she would cling onto her father almost all the time when he was home.

speaking of her father, you learned his name was shota aizawa, so, naturally, you call him mr. aizawa or sir. he would constantly ask you would other things you wanted, not needed. he would take you shopping, calling it a bonus. your living area was decorated, & you didn't even have to pay a dime! there were times where you felt more like a sugar baby than a nanny, in all honesty.

not that you minded. one look at him & you could already feel your heart beat quicken. maybe it was your daddy issues that just scream when you choose a guy you're into, but he was exactly your type. he's protective, yet soft. strong, yet humble.

you thought you hid your crush on him quite well, treating him as though he were any other person. sometimes you felt like he knew you were so utterly attracted to him.

"y/n," he called out, drawing you out of thought.

"u-uh yes sir?" you replied. you were dressed down still as it was the morning. he just finished breakfast & eri was fast asleep, bound to wake up at any moment. it was just the two of you.

"are you okay?" he asked. aizawa awaited for your answer while he plated your breakfast. he always insisted so you learned to let him.

as he walked towards you with your plate, you answered, "yeah, i'm okay."

he set down the plate in front of you from behind. aizawa bent over so his head was leveled with yours. both of his arms encased you, & if it weren't for the back of your chair, you would've been pressed against his chest. "are you sure?" he whispered into your ear. "i'm hear to listen, if you'd let me."

you turned your head to look at him because, somewhere in your strange logic, you thought it would've reduced the tension & made you less embarrassed. it did the opposite.

the tips of your noses touched, his lips only a few centimeters from yours. with half-lidded eyes, the way he looked at you made you quiver. you tried to create space between the two of you, only for your head to meet his arm. centimeters turned to an inch of space. "i-i am okay," you repeated.

"aw, don't lie to me," he said in teasing voice, but you could've been imagining it. "i know it's been hard, tell me about it~" you never would've thought he would have this amount of confidence-- mainly because, if he did, he should've been bringing home loads of women.

"i-i, it's just, um," you stumbled over your words. he had a smirk, amused. his eyes glanced down to your glossy, shaky lips, then back into your doe eyes, just waiting.

"daddy," eri called from the top of the staircase.

"y/n," he whispered.

"y-yes, mr. a-aizawa?"

"eat your food before it gets cold." & with that, he pulled away from you, sauntering upstairs to grab eri. left stunned, you picked at your food.

oh, how you loved telling your friends about how hot your boss is.

after that incident, you had to tell all your friends about it, so, during your guys' weekly, weekend, late night group facetime.

"oh, my god!" uraraka squealed. "you HAVE to tell us more."

"yeah, that's literally so hot," jirou laughed. "see! you found a perfect job."

you had your phone propped against some random bottle as you snuck into the kitchen to fix yourself something to eat. another thing about eri is that, once she's asleep, nothing is waking that girl up. as for aizawa, he's usually up doing something else-- which explains the bags under his eyes & his scheduled naps.

while you dumped your noodles into a pot of boiling water, you said into your phone, "i'm not even exaggerating, it was the hottest thing to ever happen to me."

giggles erupted from your phone. "well, to be fair, you haven't had much luck with guys in the past," mina stated. it was true. while you were in high school -& this past year of college- you really didn't connect with any guys.

"maybe the problem was that they were all her age," joked jirou. hysterical laughter followed after. you were bent over, trying to catch your breath.

"that's not true! i could go for guys our age," you tried to defend yourself.

"okay, let's name every single one of your crushes ever," tsu said, her camera angle only showing her eyes.

all the other girls started to spit out whoever they could think of.

"remember keigo? he was like, 2 years older than us," momo said.

"that's not even that bad," you rolled your eyes, stirring your noodles & adding the seasoning packet.

"oh yeah?" jirou challenged, "what about shoto-"

"he's our age!" you cut her off to save yourself the embarrassment. "besides i didn't even like him."

"yeah cuz you liked his DAD," jirou finished, to which even more bowls of laughter erupted. okay, maybe you did have a thing for older guys.

"oh wow, y/n, i didn't know you had a thing for older guys," a voice spoke from behind you. you jumped, letting out a yelp.

your phone blasted all of your friends' laughter until you grabbed your phone & hung up. "o-oh hey, sir," you stuttered out. you hid your phone behind your back as if you were caught doing something wrong. you felt your phone vibrate, your friends begging to be on call again. "how much did you hear?"

"not much," shrugged aizawa as he grabbed a glass cup from the cabinet above you. that's when you realized how warm he was, how flushed his face was, how messy his hair fell. that's when you realized he was wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants & a small towel around his neck.

"wh-what are you doing up," you coughed, taking in his physic-- just for a second, of course. veins protruded up his muscular biceps down his forearms. his pecs were in front of your face. they were well-toned. his washboard abs rose with every breath he took. you let yourself quickly -& ever so sneakily- glance downward. smaller veins & a trail of black hair were like arrows, pointing down his sweatpants. you gulped. was it normal to have a bulge that big-

"you know, it's rude to stare, y/n," aizawa whispered in your ear before pulling away. he walked toward the fridge that had a water dispenser attached to the freezer door. "i just need a cup of water after my workout," he answered in his regular voice to her question.

"oh, nice, nice," you said. a tense, awkward silence followed afterwards. "i-i'm sorry, i didnt mean to," you swallowed, "stare."

"right, i'm sure." & with that said, he left upstairs to get ready for bed.

aizawa loved teasing cute, little you. how could he not? your reactions were simply priceless. your face would get pink while you tried desperately to hide your embarrassment. your skittish eyes darted around the room just to avoid eye contact.

you weren't going to speak up because he knew that you "secretly" loved it. you'd probably make some lame excuse to defend yourself. you'd say, "well i'll let it slide just this once because i really need this job." which was the truth, it just wasn't the entire truth. aizawa knew though. he knew how much you craved his closeness.

he loves teasing you, but he's not a monster.

that's why he whispers in your ear, caging you between him & some other surface. he fed into your fantasies while fueling his own.

he thinks about you. all the time. more than you'll ever know.

what you believed to be a chance encounter was -in fact- a calculated, perfectly-executed plan concocted by aizawa. you might've never noticed him until he introduced himself, but you're so eye catching; it was only natural for him to notice you.

at first, he cursed himself to the moon & back for being attracted to someone ten years younger than him. you're only twenty-three, why is he so charmed by you?

determined to find a fault in your character, he learned your daily routine, find your social handles, grasping at anything. he was expecting to find out that maybe you're so much of an alcoholic that you practically live at a bar or that you have eighteen children with twelve different guys. but no, he found nothing terrible about you.

all of your habits he found adorable-- especially the face you make when you're frustrated. he would watch from afar as you grunted & groaned at your laptop screen. the day at the cafe he figured out why you were so upset lately.

that's why he offered you the job, out of the kindness of his heart. no other reason.

he just wanted to make sure that you stay happy & safe, which is why he installed secret cameras in the basement before you moved in.

he loved to tease you. he loved to rile you up.

he'd tease you so badly that you -at the dead of night- spread you legs wide towards the camera & play with yourself with your fingers, moaning desperately for him. all while aizawa watched you.

tonight was different though because, with the money he gave you, you bought yourself something new. tonight, you had a bright pink vibrator stimulate your clit while your eyes rolled back in ecstasy. aizawa was offended, in all honesty. it was almost like you were mocking him.

he could do better than some toy. you should've known that. he was angry, aroused, & ready to make his move.

you were unsuspecting. usually you were hyper-aware of your surroundings when you masterbated, scared of getting caught. however, this was your first time using a vibrator, & god, it felt so good. you've never experienced anything like it before. blood rushed to your ears as you could only listen to the vibrations & your choked-back moans.

aizawa crept down the stairs, into your basement. the floorboards would creak as a warning, but they fell on deaf ears. he opened the door to the basement, sneaking in. the only light that was on was a dimly lit lamp from your room. "ngh, ah." he heard your muffled moans, & his cock twitched in anticipation.

he bursted through the door, making you jump back & pull the closest thing over the bottom half of yourself. "s-sir! i-is something wrong?" you asked in a high-pitched voice as you tried to calm yourself down.

he gave you a glare, & you felt like you were in trouble, preparing for some sort of punishment. even though you didn't do anything wrong, it was him who barged in. "what. the fuck. do you think you're doing?" he seethed, closing the bedroom door. you were exposed, your juices so clearly staining your sheets.

"wh-what are you talking about-"

"don't give me that, y/n. you've been such a bad girl," he growled. aizawa stalked closer towards you as you gulped.

"n-no i haven't, i don't know what you mean, sir," you managed to say, watching him walk to the side of your bed.

"what were you doing then, hm?" he questioned with a mocking smirk. "tell me. i'd hate to do something brash over a misunderstanding."

"i-i was just laying down," you lied. he was standing at the edge of your bed, & you turned towards him. your gaze was met with his aching bulge, & you gushed all over your bed once more. you tried covering up the squelching with a yawn. "i-i'm kinda tired, you know." you were still staring at his crotch, licking your lips subconsciously.

suddenly, his hand shot to your face, his palm covering your mouth while his thumb & middle finger dug into your cheeks. "don't lie to me~ you were touching yourself, weren't you? using a dirty toy while you thought about me, hm?" you tried shaking your head but he grasped harder, making you still. "i said, don't fuckin' lie to me." he made you nod your head yes while you look up into his lusted eyes.

"you're such a bad girl, & you should know that i don't tolerate any kind of bad behavior," he informed, his gaze never breaking away from yours. "i'm going to sit down, & you're going to lay belly-down on my lap, alright, baby?"

you shook your head no once again, embarrassed. you knew that, the moment you would do that, he would catch you. after all, from the waist down, you had no clothing. "no?" he repeated in an almost sing-songy voice. "no?"

it happened so fast. one minute you were disobeying him, the next you were on his lap, just as he wanted. the baggy crop top rode up the arch of your back, & now you were practically naked -ass up- on your boss' lap. you buried your face into your messy duvet. you felt your core leak onto your inner thighs, hoping aizawa didn't notice your arousal. he did though; he loved it.

his fingers stroked your pussy as he slurred, "what a naughty girl, gettin' wet for me. y'know how much older i am, don't ya?"

you nodded your head, dripping onto his fingers.

"& ya still want me?"

you nodded, this time with a small squeak. he pulled your head back with his other hand entangled in your hair. "what was that, baby?"

"y-yes," you whispered out, hyperfixated on his fingers that teased you.

"yes what?"

"yes, i-i want you, sir," you moaned out. his middle finger ghosted over your clit, & you jolted closer to him for more friction.

"aww, you're so cute," he purred as he let go of your hair, allowing you to fall back into your bed. "it's a shame that you were so impatient though," he said with faux pity, "i have to punish you."

"no, please," you whined. "that's not fair!"

"not fair? oh darling, you brought this on yourself," he laughed. aizawa drew his hand away from your aching pussy, much to your dismay. the hand came back down, thrashing your ass cheek. you let out a muffled scream into your blanket as you were pushed forward with his force.

"what's wrong, y/n? can't handle a bit of spanking?"

"n-no! i-i want you... i-inside of me," you stuttered out with a red-tinted cheeks.

"aww, do you?"

you nodded eagerly. he, in response, growled lowly, "you're going to learn your lesson. i don't want to hear anymore whining. you're going to be my good girl, & take it, right?"

you just nodded again.

smack!

"i said, you're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

"y-yes, sir!"

smack!

you let out a moan, looking back at him with teary eyes. you wanted an explanation why he spanked you again. you did everything right, didn't you? you were a good girl.

"you didn't apologize."

"i-i'm s-so sorry, daddy," you gasped out, then tried to explain why you called him that. "i-i didn't-"

smack!

"you're going to keep calling me that, right?"

"y-yes, daddy." your ass stung bright red, & you felt the tingling sensation as the blood rushed to your asscheeks. aizawa let his hand graze over you, squeezing you ever so slightly.

"sit up, & look at me, y/n," he commanded in a softer tone than before. mindlessly & eagerly, you sat up onto his lap. one hand gripped on your hip while the other was placed behind your back. you wrapped your arms around his neck to stay sitting up. he leaned in for a kiss, lips pressed against your plush ones. with the hand behind your back, he glided his nails over your back.

his tongue slid over your bottom lip before invading your mouth. you let out a moan as he kissed you. he was the one to pull away, you unconsciously leaned into him for another kiss. you were snapped out of your lust when he dove into your neck, nipping & kissing all over. between hickeys, he whispered, "see? good girls get a reward."

you just let out breathless moans. your arms were still around his neck while he lowered you onto the bed. "baby, i don't ever wanna punish you again," aizawa lied, slipping your crop top over your head before throwing it on the floor. he took of his shirt, chuckling when he saw how pink your ears got. "you know why i had to punish you though, don't you?"

"y-yes, i do, d-daddy," you stuttered out. it was hard to focus while he dragged his tongue over your body. he bit your collarbone, sucked on your tits, kissed down your torso. it was all so distracting.

"why did i have to punish you, y/n?"

"because i-i was p-playing with myself without y-your permission," you told him, sighs in between every word. you don't know how or when your legs were over his shoulders, & you didn't notice until he spoke.

every annunciation blew warm air to your throbbing heat. "such a smart girl, y/n~" he praised, his onyx eyes locking with your doe eyes. you didn't have to say anything, he could tell by your facial expressions how badly you needed him. he kitten-licked your pussy; it was so little, yet you couldn't help but squeak in delight.

"oh, my god," you moaned out, throwing your head back as he began to lap your juices. he groaned as his tongue flicked your clit.

"you taste so fuckin' good, baby," he uttered, diving back for more.

"thank you, daddy," you said, you didn't even know if he still wanted to punish you, but there was a chance that he did, & you didn't want this to stop.

"good girl."

he stimulated your clit with his tongue while three fingers pumped in & out of your hole. he pulled away from your pussy for a second, demanding, "look at me when you cum, got it?"

"yes d-daddy!" you yelled out, self-restraint turning into the opposite. a pressure built inside your core, threatening to pop at any second. you looked down, tears of pleasure & neediness rolling down your pink cheeks. "i-i'm gonna cum. please keep going, i'm gonna cum!" you let out a string of pleads & moans as you came all over aizawa's face.

he stood up, slipping off his pants & boxers. he kicked them away as he towered over you. he was standing on the edge of the bed while you lied with your legs spread. "you want me, y/n? you really want me?" he asked because if you wanted him to stop, he would. if you wanted him to do anything, he'd do it.

"i really want you," you said as sincerely as someone who just climaxed could say anything. "i-i just don't want this to be a one-time thing," you admitted.

he laughed, lining his cock with your entrance as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. "trust me, baby. this is not a one-time thing, i'm so addicted to you, y/n. you don't even know." he finished his short-lived speech by shoving his girthy dick into your cunt, & you remembered just how dominate aizawa was. you let out a scream due to the pain, unexpectedness, & utter pleasure you got all in a single moment.

his thrusts were soft & slow at first. you could feel every inch leave then plunge back into your weeping hole. "d-d-daddy, you're so big," you moaned while you wrapped your arms around his neck.

his pace picked up, hips jerking against you. your tits jiggled with every thrust, claps every time he went back inside you. he abused your sensitive g-spot, ramming himself in & out of you. your hands unraveled themselves around his neck, your nails digging into his muscular back. you let out babbles how you couldn't take it, how you were going stupid, & how you were going to cum. he groaned in response, "if you're saying anything other than daddy or more, shut your fuckin' mouth & take it like a good girl."

"n-ngh, ahhh, yesss daddy," you slurred, eyes rolling to the back of your head. you wanted him to slow down so you could think again, but you liked being mindless, you liked how you didn't have the energy or will power to think about anything in this fucked-up world. all that mattered in that moment was you, aizawa, & how good the two of you felt.

"you're so fuckin' beautiful, baby," he groaned, he couldn't help but compliment you. how could he not? you looked even better pinned under him than he imagined. "so tight for me."

"please let c-cum with me, daddy," you begged. he didn't respond for a second, & you started to doubt yourself.

"wh-where," he groaned out, thrusts becoming rough & sloppy.

"what?"

he was losing composure. "where do you want me to cum?"

"inside," you answered quickly, wrapping your legs around his waist. you felt like you were in control now. "i-i want you inside of me when i cum all over your cock, d-daddy~"

"y/n. don't say stupid shit," he warned, knowing damn well he'd fold in an instant. you kept moaning with every thrust, begging for him to cum.

"p-please~ daddy, i deserve it. i-i've been a good girl," you whimpered. you jutted your bottom lip in a pout & tried to give your best puppy-dog eyes. every thrust he could see you twitch in pleasure, your expression couldn't hide how much you were enjoying this.

"fuckin' brat," he scowled. he watched you as you figured out how much power you truly have over him. he couldn't blame you for extorting it because that's what he did to you. at the end of the day though, you won.

he became sloppy & fast. his cock twitched inside of you when he saw your slutty expression-- tongue hanging out of your mouth, cheeks red, tears running down your face, eyes begging. & it was all because of him, how he fucked you. he was the cause of such a beautiful thing. finally, with a single thrust, he buried himself deep within you, cumming.

whiteness painted your insides while you came around him, clenching his twitching prick. "a-aizawa!" you screamed out in pure ecstasy.

deep breathes, panting, & sighs of content followed afterwards. he slipped out of your gaping hole, his sperm leaking out of your pussy. he climbed into your bed, coddling you. you were still shaky, senses heighten. you placed your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat slow.

he pulled the covers over the two of you. aizawa said while massaging your scalp, "you okay, baby?"

"mhm," you hummed, "i-i just never been fucked like that before."

he laughed, then kissed the top of your head. "i promise that this won't be the last time, y/n. i'm all yours." though he didn't say it, he was thinking, besides, guys your age won't know what to do with a bad girl like you.

#aizawa x y/n #anime and manga #yandere bnha #bnha x reader #bnha aizawa #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa headcanons #aizawa x reader #x reader #reader insert #reader imagine #aizawa imagine #aizawa smut #mha au #mha #bnha #yandere aizawa #yandere mha

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tightjeansjavi · 6 months

Text

The Menu | Part 3

“a peggin’ a day keeps the doctor away”

A/N: grumpy, guard dog men like Joel Miller sometimes just need a cock up their ass, okay? Besides, he loves it. He told me so himself ;)

~word count: 5.3k~

pairing | dark!joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel has a request just for you. He wants you to fuck him with a strap on.

Warnings: smut, smut with little plot, dom/sub vibes, fingering (f receiving), anal play, strap on sex, handjob, oral to a dildo, unprotected p in v, possession, degradation, humiliation, some manipulation tactics on both sides, praise kink, possession, orgasm denial (male and female) cockslut, pretty girl, pretty boy, flirting, denial of feelings, some fluff and angst?? Mentions of drugs and smoking, teasing, flirting, gaslighting, insecurities, age gap, Joel is in his 40’s and reader is in her late 20’s, reader has no physical descriptions such as skin color and body type, readers nickname is Angel, one minor mention of religion, +18, NSFW, minors dni!

What was supposed to simply be a one-time fuck, turned into a normal routine for you and Joel Miller. In fact, you had completely lost track of how many times you showed up at his apartment searching for that vice that only he could supply you. Or the amount of times you’d give him a handy in a back alley, or allow him to finger you under the same table that he would conduct his business. There was something so thrilling about the possibility of being caught while his long, thick fingers scissored your tight hole, and his thumb simultaneously rubbed expertly tight circles against your neglected pulsing clit.

His freehand was occupied with divvying up a baggy of pills, while the FEDRA officer counted out a stack of ration cards and paid no mind to what was possibly taking place under the table just a few inches away.

“I’ll need the baggy back.” Joel spoke gruffly as the heel of his palm completely encaged your bare cunt. His fingers that were buried deep inside of you were dripping in your juices. It was a miracle that none had leaked down the side of his hand.

“Sure. Sure.” The FEDRA officer responded in a monotone voice as he stuffed the baggy of pills into his pocket.

Joel gave him a tight nod that sent the officer on his way. When the door to his apartment finally closed, Joel turned towards you as he curled his thick digits inwards.

“Was that the FEDRA fuck that you slept with before I split ya in two, Angel?” He inquired with a raise of his brow, and a smirk crawling up his lips.

“Mhm.” You nearly mewled and reached for his bare forearm. You sunk your nails into his skin while your other hand was clenched tightly around the side of the chair. “Can I please come now, sir?” You nearly begged him as you gnawed on your lower lip.

“Nope.” He chastised.

“Jooeel.” You whined out of frustration as you tighten your grip around his forearm. Your nails created little crescent moons indentations in his tanned skin.

“You can ‘Jooeel’ me all you want, Angel.” He mocked you, “But y’dont come till I say y’can. Y’know the rules.”

Your eyes narrowed into slits while his shit eating grin only seemed to grow bigger.

So, yeah, you and Joel fucked a lot. You saw his brooding stature everywhere you turned as if he was a lurking shadow covering your footsteps. More like gum stuck to your shoe.

The most irritating part of it all was that somehow, someway, Joel Miller was always there to save your ass. Hell, he was even saving you in your dreams.

And as the months droned by, you were beginning to spend more time in his shitty apartment then your own. A dead giveaway was your backpack that was filled with a change of clothes, toothbrush, and a spare pistol that Joel had personally lent you was inconspicuously placed alongside his bed.

“Y’plannin’ on movin’ in or somethin’, Angel?” He gestured causally to the backpack while he was undoing his belt.

“What are you talkin’ about, Joel? Why the hell would I—” your words were muffled as you tore your shirt over your head in a haste.

You swore you heard him snicker as his chin turned towards the direction of your backpack. “Mmkay. S’then what do you call that?” He tugged his jeans down his thighs and kicked them off to the side.

“Call what?” You played dumb as you felt the heat rise to your cheeks. Okay, so maybe you did place it there on purpose.

“Don’t play fuckin’ dumb with me, Angel. That wasn’t there the last time you were here.” He grumbled under his breath and reached for your own jeans. He looped his thumbs through your jeans as he yanked you towards his chest. “What’s in there anyway. Your secret diary?” He said teasingly as his fingers moved swiftly to pop the button on your jeans and yank down the zipper.

“My secret diary? Really, Joel? I ain’t a teenager.” You scoffed and reached for the hem of his shirt.

“Oh, that’s right. You’re just a bratty little—”

“Slut.” You deadpanned.

“Correct, but c’mon, whad’ya got in there?” He pressed with obvious curiosity as he tugged your jeans down over your hips.

“A change of clothes, toothbrush, and the pistol you lent me.” You responded casually while you slipped your hand beneath his tight briefs, grasping him firmly as your thumb swiped across the tip of his cock. “Y’got a problem with that, Miller?”

His breath caught in his throat as he lurched forward into the palm of your hand. His lower lip caught between his teeth as he suppressed a grunt from slipping past his lips. “Nope. S’not a problem at all.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You muttered under your breath just as you felt his fingers brush against your chin and tilt it upwards. His eyes narrowed, and his jaw ticked. Tension filled silence engulfed his unadorned bedroom. His eyes flickered down to your lips in contemplation.

Your hand stilled against his hardening length as you stared directly into his eyes. “I thought you don’t think about kissing bratty little sluts like me, Joel.”

“I don’t.” He scoffed before dragging his thumb across your lower lip. His nose scrunched under your scrutiny at the thought of kissing you. He wouldn’t. He’d never, so then why was he leaning in?

“Guess you do now, huh?” Your words were soft in comparison to the way that you were looking at him. Eyes hungry and twinged with curiosity to see if he actually would do it.

“Shuddup.” He grumbled low. His lips brushed yours before you found yourself reaching for his jaw to pull him in closer. Soon enough he was licking hungrily into your mouth with only one thought on his mind; asserting his dominance over you.

Your fingers tangled through the soft curls at the back of his neck as you pressed his back right up against the wall. Your teeth sunk down into the flesh of his lower lip as he shoved his hand between your thighs. You were a mess of symphonic moans by the time he redirected you to the bed.

He loved when you were pliant with his desires, and you loved the way he took what belonged to him.

Sweat tangled limbs, a hint of laughter when he accidentally pulled his hips back a bit too far and slipped out of your sopping cunt. He apologized with his face buried between your supple breasts as you grasped the base of his cock and pulled him right back in. Nothing was off limits on his menu. Doggystyle, missionary, reverse cowgirl, (one of his personal favorites) neither of you really had any complaints with any of the positions you partook in. Somehow, someway, Joel just knew how to fuck you stupid in all of them.

You thought that by now the older man would be fucked out as he lay panting on his back. Beads of sweat shine like polished diamonds on his skin. His eyes are closed, lips parted as puffs of air slip past them. You’ve made your mark on his body tonight. Long, red scratches raised on the scarred skin on his back. Teeth marks littered across his chest like constellations. A lovebite to his jaw, right between the patches in his beard. Another under his ear and at the base of his throat.

He hisses between his teeth when he feels your lips dance across his hip bone, teeth scraping the sweat soaked skin. Your tongue darts between your swollen lips as you soothe the bite mark with an open mouthed kiss.

He hums in satisfaction. His arm reaches lazily towards the nightstand as he plucks up one of the cigarettes he freshly rolled this morning and places it between his lips.

His eyes lazily drift down to your face where your cheek is now resting along one of his strong thighs and your fingers are lightly tracing across his stomach creating random patterns along his skin.

Joel would never consider himself to be an intimate man by any means, but whatever this was, he liked it more than he was willing to admit.

He reached his arm out once more, snatching up the rusted lighter before igniting the flame against the unlit end of the cigarette. He shifted slightly as he deeply inhaled the tobacco smoke before exhaling towards the ceiling. “C’mere.” He rasped low and deep.

Your body worked on autopilot as you pulled yourself up towards his chest. You flopped down beside him with your cheek pressed against his chest, right where you could feel his steady heartbeat. His arm dropped to his side before wrapping around your frame. Joel Miller did not hold hands, but his fingers laced through the top of yours. The sheer size of his hand encasing yours completely. He took another long drag from the cigarette as the familiar stench of tobacco smoke and post-sex filtered through the air.

Your lashes fluttered as your fingers subconsciously squeezed his own. Your thigh came to lazily rest across his hip as your foot gently brushed across his softened cock that laid against his thigh. He grunted low from the feeling before he offered you the cigarette.

“Still can’t break that nasty habit I see.” He broke through the silence as his eyes watched the way your lips wrapped around the tip of the cigarette.

You inhaled before exhaling to the side. “Mm. Nope. Picked up another nasty one along the way.” You murmured soft and sweet as your lashes fluttered shut once more.

You felt his chuckle rumble from his chest and up his throat. He knew exactly what that other nasty habit was.

After he finished what was left of the cigarette and doused butt-end of it into the ashtray on his nightstand, you felt his lips ghost across your forehead in an intimate sweep. “Got somethin’ I wanna show ya, Angel.”

Your immediate response is to groan because the mere thought of moving sounded godawful. “Joel, c’mon. Can it wait, please? I’m real comfy right now.”

“Y’dont gotta move, baby. Y’just gotta lay there and look nice and pretty for me, kay?” His freehand came to rest around your calf as he hiked your thigh up higher. “Or, I can just slip right back on into your little fucked out hole if y’dont wanna cooperate with me.”

God dammit.

“But, you’re my pillow.” You huffed out of annoyance.

“Gross.” He quipped back before gently releasing you from his grip. His fingers slipped out of your grip before he was sitting up and forcing you out of your comfortable position.

Despite your soft protests, he swung his legs over the side of the bed before standing up. You got a front row view of just how much you really shredded up his back, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. “Come back to bed, Jooel.” You grumbled into his pillow as your foot kicked out at his bare ass playfully.

Before you could even make contact, his hand grabbed your ankle firmly like the way a snake strikes at an unsuspecting mouse. “Watch it.” He warned with a glare.

“You’re no fun.” You pouted with mock disappointment

“And you’re annoying.” He scoffed before releasing your ankle from his grasp.

“Asshole.” You muttered before rolling over so your back was facing him.

“Brat.”

You thought about reaching for your discarded panties from the floor as his footsteps faded down the hall. You never once spend the night for unspoken reasons. It was the apocalypse after all. What was the point of attachment if there was no guarantee of survival? Seemed like a waste of time and energy.

With a heavy sigh you dragged yourself to the edge of his mattress and scooped up your panties and shirt before sitting up along the comforter.

Joel’s footsteps paused in the doorway when he saw you slip your panties on over your ankles.

“Y’dont have to leave y’know.” He had his own backpack in his hand as he leaned against the doorjamb.

“No, but I should get out of your hair and go home.” Your back was still facing him as you slipped your shirt over your head with a sigh.

Yeah, but I don’t want you to leave.

“C’mon, Angel. Jus’ stay a little longer, alright? Still got somethin’ to show ya. Aren’t you a tad bit curious?”

“Alright, show me what it is that you gotta show me, Joel. And then I’m heading home.” You finally agreed before turning on the comforter to face him. Your legs were crossed like a pretzel as he joined you on the mattress once more.

“So, Tess and I went explorin’ the abandoned mall. Y’know, the one at the farthest part of the QZ?” He unzipped the backpack while he spoke.

“Yeah, the one that is all boarded up because y’know, you’re not supposed to go in there because it’s crawling with infected? What the hell were you—”

He cut you off with a stern warning look and a tight shake of his head. “It ain’t crawlin’ with infected. FEDRA pushed ‘em all out of the QZ years ago. Now, as I was sayin’, we were explorin’ the mall. Which, by the way, you’d be amazed to see how much shit was left behind.”

“Well, yeah. I mean I doubt people were grabbin’ dildos and lingerie at the end of the world, Joel.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, Angel. Aren’t you just one smart cookie?” He snorted under his breath.

“The smartest. Joel, you didn’t fuckin’ get me lingerie, did you? I swear to god—”

“Fuck no. Y’think I wanna be seein’ you in that crap? No way.”

Now I know exactly what I’m not getting her next time.

“Well, you don’t need to go and be a dick about it.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Okay, so you went to the mall and got what exactly? Just spit it out, Joel.”

“Y’really ain’t have one single patient bone in your body, huh?” He shook his head with a tight grin before he reached into the back. “Close your eyes for me.” He requested.

“Are you serious? Ugh, fine.” You decided to play along mostly because he looked pretty eager to show you whatever the hell was in his backpack. There was no harm in playing along.

Once he was satisfied that you weren’t going to peek, he shuffled around in the bag before pulling out a few items. One of the stores that was not raided at the end of the world was The Body Shop. It was stacked full of soaps, shampoos, and lotions. Shit was expensive, too. Joel couldn’t believe the amount of money that people would spend on this crap.

Tess made fun of him, of course as she watched him stuff his backpack with the fragrant soaps. “The hell do y’need all of that for, Texas? Are you trying to smell like a baby prostitute?

He glared at his female counterpart as he zipped his bag up. “It ain’t for me, Tess.”

“Alright, you can open your eyes now, Angel.”

You peeked your eyes open slowly because you really had no idea what the hell Joel Miller was about to show you. You raised a brow at the spread of body care products laid out on the bed. The older man looked pretty pleased with himself as he awaited your reaction.

“Soap? Oh, because you stink! Like, really though. How many times do you shower a day, Joel? Because seriously, you stink.” He really didn’t smell all that bad. But any opportunity you had to tease him a little, you pounced on it like a cat.

He was less than impressed. His jaw ticked and clenched as his eyes narrowed in on you. “I. Do. Not. Smell.” He enunciated every syllable to get the point across. “And they’re not for me, you idiot. They’re for you.” He grumbled in annoyance.

“For me?! Are you tryin’ to tell me that I smell Joel—”

“NO! You don’t smell—goddammit. I jus’ I don’t know! Thought maybe you’d appreciate some sweet smellin’ things in this shit hole! Is that so hard to believe?! He threw his hands up in the air exasperatingly. Before the outbreak happened he made no time in his personal life to get to know someone romantically. Between Sarah, Tommy, and his job, his hands were pretty full. That didn’t erase the fact that Joel was a natural giver.

“So, you got me soap and body care stuff just because..you felt like it?” You finally met his gaze. The gesture was sweet, there was no denying that.

“Yeah. Just because I felt like it. Sure.” His response falls flat as his fingers twitch at his sides. Maybe this was stupid. Soap? Really, Joel? He can feel his anger begin to bubble and simmer in the pit of his stomach. He isn’t even really sure why he’s allowing your words to affect him this much. Who the fuck cares? You were nothing to him. Just a tight wet hole for him to occasionally stick his dick in.There was nothing else going on between you and him. It was strictly just sex.

So, if that were the case, why did it hurt?

“Joel, hey man, c’mon. I’m just fuckin’ with ya.” You lightly joke as a way to bring him back down to earth.

You try to peel back the layers of tension that are creeping in. This is exactly the reason why you were planning on leaving in the first place. You couldn’t handle the complications that came with sleeping with someone this frequently. Someone in the end would always get hurt inevitably.

“If you’re gonna ditch me, then just fuckin’ ditch me already. Don’t hold your breath, Angel. Jus’ do it.” He snaps under his breath. Feeling that bubble of anger begin to morph into something more.

“What the hell is your problem, Joel? You’re so hot and cold.” You fight the urge to scoff.

The muscles lining his back and shoulders clench. You can see them flexing under the lowlight from the table side lamp that occasionally flickers. His mouth quirks, but he doesn’t smile, he grimaces.

“And you ain’t?! It’s just me? Right, cause you’re so fuckin’ perfect.” He snarls, and you’ve had enough.

“Oh, absolutely not. I am not going to get into a screaming match with you right now, Miller. You know how fuckin’ pointless that is?! For fuck sakes. Are we really about to do this right now?!” Your hands rest around your hips as you shoot daggers with your eyes at the side of his face. You’re unknowingly taking the bait that he constructively laid out for you.

His nostrils flare as he lets out a heavy exhale. “So, then put me in my fuckin’ place. C’mon. You have it in ya, don’t ya Angel?”

“What the fuck are you—”

He turned to face you. His grimace turned into his classic Joel Miller smirk. His brow cocked as he watched your brain process right before his eyes exactly what he was insinuating.

“Y’heard me, Angel. I want you to fuck me.”

The tension in the room was palpable. It was as if a thick fog of lust saturated itself into your skin. You visibly swallowed the nerves that were bubbling in your throat. Joel’s smirk didn’t falter, but his eyes drifted down to your lips just as they parted.

“You want me to put you in your place by..fucking you? Well, with what exactly? I know you’ve got your kinks and all, Joel. But I sure as hell am not shoving my fingers up your ass. Why don’t you ask Tess—”

His hand reached out suddenly, fingers grasping your chin in a tight grip. “I don’t want Tess to do it, Angel. I want you, my sweet, filthy girl. Don’tcha want to hold some power over me? C’mon. Ain’t that what you desire? To get back at me? To hold me at your mercy?”

You could feel the heat begin to rise in your cheeks as you struggled to tear your gaze away from his searing one. Sure, Joel could have easily gone to Tess to fill that itch he was feeling, but no. He wanted you to be the one to satiate his needs.

“O-okay, but like I said, I’m not sticking a fucking finger up your ass, Joel. That’s where I’m drawing my line.”

“My sweet, I never said anything about you havin’ to stick your fingers up my ass. Listenin’ ears, Angel. Use ‘em. Do you really think I risked my skin goin’ to that mall with Tess just for some measly soap products?” He questioned.

Ah, there he is again.

“Frankly, I still don’t understand why the hell you’d do something as fucking stupid as that.”

“Course you don’t, Angel. That’s ‘cause you ain’t me. Why would you think about upholding my own desires?” He tuts before reaching back into his backpack.

“Lucky for you, the mall has more than just perfumey soaps to offer. Conveniently, there was sex shop that was fully stacked. Guess people weren’t thinkin’ about needin’ lube and condoms durin’ an apocalypse, eh?”

“You didn’t.” Did he really bring home—

“Oh,” he chuckled, “but I did.”

Your eyes widened at the sight of Joel pulling out a strap-on with an extremely pink, sparkly silicone dildo on the end of it. The dildo itself was average in size, but you couldn’t help the pleasurable tingle rolling down your spine at mental images of Joel Miller on his hands and knees just for his Angel.

“Get on your knees.” Your thoughts were brazen, running wild as you yanked the strap-on from his grasp before discarding your flimsy panties in a haste. Joel Miller was about to become your little cockslut, and he had no idea.

“Now, hol’ on jus’ a minute there. Let’s not—”

You cut him off swiftly with a second demand. “On your knees now, Joel. Don’t make me ask a third time.”

His cock betrayed his grasping for control as it twitched against his thigh from your demanding words alone. He didn’t dare defy you as he slowly sank down from the comforter and onto his knees.

You never felt a power quite like this until you had Joel fucking Miller on his knees for you. You were going to drag this out for as long as possible, that was for damn sure.

“There’s lube in the—”

You shook your head to the side with a smirk crawling up your lips. Your entire body was vibrating with suspense. Excitement. The nerves had dissipated as you stood above him with the velcro straps now secure around your hips.

“Nuh-uh. We don’t need lube when you have a perfectly cable mouth for me to use. You’re gonna suck on my cock and get it all nice and wet for me, pretty boy.”

Joel nearly whimpered through his gritted teeth as the blood flow in his body trailed downwards. The second he heard you call him “pretty boy,” his tip weeped a bead of precum. Oh, he really wanted to be put in his place.

When he went to wrap his hand around the base of the silicone dildo, you slapped it away with a warning glare. “No hands. Just your mouth.”

He retracted, recoiling like a snake as he instinctively brought his arms behind his back.

“Yes ma’am.” He complied graciously.

“Good boy. Now, c’mon. Get to work, Joel. It ain’t gonna suck itself, remember?” You questioned as he scooted himself closer to situate himself between your thighs. You could feel his hot breath fanning your skin as his big brown eyes flitted upwards to meet your gaze. He had never looked more beautiful than he did right now. Even more so when he obediently wrapped his plush, pink lips around the head of the dildo.

His tongue dragged along the underside of the shaft as he blew out a puff of air through his nose. His actions had you thinking that maybe this wasn’t his first time.

He let out a tiny whimper of unabashed appreciation when your hand slid down to his hair, gripping the tendrils firmly, nails scratching his scalp.

“C’mon, pretty boy. Somethin’ tells me that you can take a bit more than that. I want to see you gag on it.” You crooned before yanking his head upwards with one swift tug.

A hum vibrated up his throat from the pleasure mixed with pain. He relaxed his jaw as a bit of drool ran down the side of his mouth. Tears soon brimmed his waterline and leaked down his cheekbones. His eyes never left yours as little gagged whimpers slipped out when the tip of the dildo hit the back of his throat.

“That’s it. That’s my good, pretty boy. Such a little cockslut you are, hm? So pretty, gagging on my cock like this.” You pressed your hips forward as his nose brushed against your pubic bone. He hollowed his cheeks, creating a vacuum with his lips as he bobbed his head.

You were soaked. Absolutely dripping between your thighs at the little sounds he was making. His whimpers, his tears in those big brown doe like eyes.

You slipped out suddenly, watching the string of saliva that connected from the tip of the cock to his wet, glistening lips.

You bent down to his level, grasping his chin between your fingers before you kissed him deeply, licking into his mouth as he let you have full control.

“On the bed, pretty boy.” You mumbled against his lips.

“Y’gonna fuck me now, Angel? Gonna fill me up with your cock?” He mumbled into the kiss. He wasn’t quite ready to detach from the embrace, but you left him with no choice in the matter as you pulled away. With a loving slap to his cheek you pointed in the direction of the bed.

He was like an obedient dog on a leash as he pulled himself up from the floor and sauntered over to the mattress.

“On all fours, pretty boy.”

He loved the feeling of humiliation just as much as he loved the carnal need to own you. He loved that he could openly explore his desires with someone who was just as filthy as he was. That’s why you were perfect for him, after all. Not just a sweet little Angel, but a devil between the sheets. He could see your two little red horns popping up from your brain cavity now to match his own. Hell had room for two more sinners.

You were kind enough to grab the bottle of lube from his backpack as he situated himself on all fours with his back slightly arched.

“M’ready for you, Angel.” He rasped deeply as he felt the mattress dip and faintly squeak from your knees pressing down on it.

He lurched forward from the familiar cooling sensation of the lube being poured over his puckering hole, followed by your warm fingers rubbing it in generously.

“Gonna fuck you now, pretty boy. You’re gonna take every inch of my cock like the good little cockslut that you are. I know you can be a good boy for me, Joel. You want to be good, right?”

“Mmhmmph.” He pushed his ass back towards your hips as he pressed his cheek into the scratchy fabric of his pillow. Someone was mighty impatient. “I wanna be a good boy for you, Angel. I wanna make you so proud.” His voice was muffled, but you could still make out every word.

“That’s right, pretty boy. All you want to do is be good and make me proud.” You squirted a bit more lube around the dildo and his tight hole.

The seconds seemed to tick by before he finally felt the familiar stretch that sent his heavy cock twitching between his thighs. As you sunk further into his warmth, the more Joel had begun to unfold.

“Fuuuck.” He whimpered pathetically into the pillow when you had completely bottomed out.

“Please move, Angel. Please. Please. Please.” He begged with a wanton moan as he wiggled his ass back against your hips. He was on the verge of desperation and you couldn’t get enough of it.

You pulled your hips back slightly, before thrusting them forward. His cheek was pressed deeper into the pillow with each heavy calculated thrust that you gave him.

He liked the feeling of your breasts pressed against his back and the way that you seemed to encase him the same way that he did. His moans were strangled as he chased after that high.

He hoped that all of his neighbors could hear just how good you were making him feel.

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ come without my say, pretty boy. You hold it in for as long as I tell you too, you got that?” Your lips were at the shell of his ear where you could literally feel his pulse point skyrocket.

“Angel, Please. Please. I’m so c-close! Please, let your pretty boy come!” He cried out.

“No.” He could feel your devious little smirk against his skin. The skin of his knuckles turned stark white the second you had slipped out. He could have pounded his fists into the mattress, but you were quicker than that as you grabbed ahold of his hands and forced him onto his back.

His skin was red hot, slick with sweat as his eyes locked on yours. His brows were furrowed tightly together. His cock was painfully hard and desperate for release.

“I want to see your face when you come, pretty boy. I wanna see all of it.”

Not one single shred of rational thought could be seen in his darkened irises as you grasped a hold of his strong thighs and bent them towards his chest before you slipped right back into his fucked out hole.

As you ground your hips forward into his ass, you spit into your hand before wrapping it around the base of his cock, giving it quick tugs as he threw his head back against the pillows. The prominent veins in his neck visibly protruded against his sweat stained skin. A mixture of slurs and profanities tumbled past his lips as he thrusted his hips into your hand.

white hot pleasure coursed through his veins as your freehand wrapped around his throat, pushing him further into the mattress.

You owned him entirely. More than he even had begun to realize.

“Come for me, pretty boy.” You demanded.

He crumbled in an instant as his thighs quivered and tensed followed by hot ropes of cum shooting from his tip. He painted his stomach in his release as you squeezed out every last drop he had to offer. Before he even had a chance to breathe, your mouth was around him in an instant, licking up the salty musky flavor along his skin.

His breaths came out in a labored wheeze as he went off into his own little post-orgasm world. His eyes fluttered shut as your warm mouth enveloped his softened cock deliciously.

It was only when you moved your head back to slip him out, did his dominance return from the haze.

“Daddy’s tired, Angel. Why don’t you keep it in your mouth for me, baby. Keep it nice and warm for your good pretty boy.” He rasped.

Even through your glare at his request, you could see the lazy, relaxed smile grace his features when you reluctantly obeyed.

His hand reached down to gently hold your face in his palm. His thumb stroked against your cheekbone lovingly.

“That’s my good pretty girl.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

Text

The Grey Zone 5

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, age gap, bullying, toxic parental figures, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your parents has never been good, and that with a family friend takes a strange turn(goth!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: Oh my mustachioed man!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Lloyd pulls in at the last rest stop before you officially enter the true desolation of the northern wilds. You open your door before he can even turn off the engine, unable to hold back the spew of sickness. You spit onto the tarmac as the sun sets darkly above. You grip the door and flinch as Lloyd reaches over to rub your back.

"You okay, baby cakes?" He asks as you press the back of your hand to your mouth and sit back, trapping his hand against the seat.

"Yeah, I just get car sick, like I said," you're almost breathless as the bile sears in your throat, "I should go rinse my mouth out."

"Need help?" He asks and you send him a confounded look. He winks as you struggle to decipher his meaning.

"No," you unbuckle your seat belt and grab your little leather knapsack.

"I guess you're not in the mood for any snacks?" He says as he climbs out on his side, mirror you as you shut your door.

"No, I'm good," you cough.

You walk in stride with him, trying to keep ahead as you're paranoid about your breath and any possible dribble from your vomit. He reaches past you to open the door and holds it open. You flit in and search for the bathroom sign, leaving him behind as the taste of your sickness dries on your tongue.

You hurry down the hall and push into the ladies. You crank on the sink and bend over to rinse your mouth out. You dry off, wiping away much of your black lipstick.

You fish a mint out of your bag and reapply the tint to your lips, checking your reflection one last time. You go into one of the stalls, just to be sure and wash your hands before venturing out into the store.

As you come out. Lloyd stands by the magazine shelf, browsing without intent. He glances over at you and smirks, his hands full.

"Got ya... ginger ale," he holds up the green bottle, "and some anti-nausea stuff." He shakes the box of tablets.

"Oh, you didn't have to..."

"I saw it, so... whatever," he hands over the items, "paid and good to go, unless you need anything else."

"All good," you muster a smile.

"You just relax, sweetheart," he waves you towards the door, "we're looking at making midnight if we're lucky. You rest up... you'll need your energy for your vacation."

"Thanks," you mutter. You don't plan on relaxing, you have textbooks and more than enough homework.

"Let me get this," he opens the door for you again.

You step through and he follows closely, just grazing the loose fabric of your pants. You feel a tug but don't think much of it right as he passes you and hits the unlock button on his keys. You near the car and drop into the passenger seat with your goodies.

You crack the seal on the ginger ale, the mint tainting the flavor. You open the box of pills and break one free of the insert. You swallow it with another swig of soda and put the bottle in the cupholder, tucking away the pills in your bag before shoving it between your feet. You lean back and buckle up.

Lloyd turns the engine and flips the stereo on again. You're tired already. You're glad he's taken on most of the driving, aside from his lead foot.

"That's it, you just chill," he reaches over and claps his hand on your thigh, "we'll be home before we know it."

"Home?" You wonder.

"Home away from home," he shrugs and pulls his hand back to the wheel and shifts into gear. "don't worry about it, babe. I got you."

You don't respond. You're not really sure how to and you're stomach is still gurgly. You just want the meds to kick in so you can close your eyes without getting dizzy.

"Alright, back on the road," he steers around the lot, following another car towards the ramp, "huh," he snorts as he speeds up.

"What?"

"Nah, just thinking... feels like... a movie," he muses as he sits back, keeping one hand nonchalantly on the wheel even as the speedometer ticks up, "like we're going away on a honeymoon. Some ridiculous romcom... or maybe a horror movie. You seem partial to the latter."

"I guess. That's a stereotype though. I'm not really a horror person."

"No?" He sniffs, "my bad. I saw that Poe collection on your shelf, so I assumed--"

"I like to read, not so much into seeing gore," you shrug.

"Fair," he replies, "surprising..."

"Why's it surprising?"

"I didn't take you as squeamish with the whole..." he points to his nose, "ring thing."

You reach up to touch your septum.

"Oh, I couldn't really see them doing it," you say.

"Not that I don't like it," he assures you, "it's a look."

You furrow your brow and nearly laugh. Is he trying to sound young and hip or something? At least he's not like your mother, lecturing you on mutilating your body.

"You got any ink? Tattoo or something?" He asks, "something mommy and daddy don't know about?"

"Um, no," you say, "it's... expensive."

"Oh, do I ever know," he clucks.

"You have a tattoo?"

"Sure do," he pats his chest, "I'll give you a look once we get where we're going. It's nothing hardcore. Mostly a college mistake."

"Ah, makes sense."

"What else is college for?" He winks at you in the rearview, "making memories."

"Sure," you agree and yawn into your hand.

"I'll shut up now," he scoffs, "you rest that pretty head."

You look at him, hesitating before letting yourself relax against the seat. You cross your arms and lean into the door, closing your eyes to keep from glancing out the window. He must have got the drowsy stuff, your head is swimming.

🖤

Soon the motion of the car turns from alarming to soothing. You let yourself sink into the anti-nauseant laced drowse itching on your eyelids. You blink, slower and slower, as you succumb to the dark sky and your induced exhaustion. You drift into semi-consciousness, the engine still whirring in your ears.

The hours slip by like seconds and you wake much before your ready too. Not quite all the way as your head wobbles and your body feels buried in sand. You drag your hand across your face clumsily as the car slows and you hear the chirping of crickets. You grumble, batting your lashes before letting them close again. You nestle into the door, reaching for sleep once more.

A soft rumble, like a chuckle, rises as the engine quiets completely. You feel a shift and hear the driver's side door. You can't tell if it's real or you're dreaming. Not until your own door opens and your seatbelt barely keeps you from falling out of the car.

Lloyd nudges you back and snickers again, "ah, look at you, sleepy girl."

He bends over you, his fingertips fluttering over your stomach as he reaches to undo your seatbelt. You moan as you struggle to keep your eyes open. His shadow blocks the moonlight as your tongue sticks dryly to the roof of your mouth. You feel... more tired than you should.

"Let's get you to bed, huh? Look at you," he lets his hand wander down your thigh, "fuck, you're so warm." He tickles you through the fabric of your pants and you shiver, "and it's damn chilly, isn't it?"

He pushes his hands between your thighs and you gasp. You reach for him and he bats your hand away easily. He cups your cunt through your pants and you squirm. He puts his other arms below your chest, pinning you to the seat.

"Wha..." you babble.

"Shhhh, it's alright, babe," he purrs as he bends, pulling his hand down your thigh as he parts them wide, dipping his head into your lap. "Mmmm, you smell delicious."

He buries his face in your pelvis and takes a deep breath before exhaling hotly into you. You whimper and push on his head. He chuckles and pulls his head back. He raises the hand he had cupped against you and sniffs that too.

"The way I'm gonna taste you and find out it you're just as good as you smell," he stands and hooks his arms under yours, lifting you out of the seat, "and you're gonna be begging me for it."

"What are you talking..."

"It's okay, honeybee, you're fucking out of it," he snaps shut the passenger door, keeping you against him, "if I wanted to, I could fuck you in the dirt right now but that's no fun."

"Huh?" You lean against him, your feet unsteady in your platform boots.

"My dicks been hard since we got in the car, you're lucky I don't test your throat out," he guides you along the pebbles and twigs, a large structure looming limned in moonlight.

"Mr. Hansen?" You eke out.

"Relax, I'm gonna put you to bed, nice and cozy. Cozier on my dick but we'll save that," he teases as his hand creeps down to squeeze your ass, "you got some of those rings in your nips too? Kinky shit."

You shake your head, stumbling with him up the wooden steps of the cabin. The place is dark and you didn't notice if your dad's SUV was there yet. They must have got there by then.

Lloyd angles you through the front door and moves seamlessly through the dark. His strength is unsettling, knowing he could do anything and you couldn't fight him off. Even if you weren't groggy.

"Come on, princess," he hums as he takes you up the stairs, each step creaking.

"Please," you beg, "why..."

"Shhh," he hushes you as he gets you to the top.

Your panic pulses and you try to shove away from him. He lets you and you go crashing into some unseen shape and bounce onto the floor. The noise of your tumble is deafening. Lloyd cackles and you hear something else. Suddenly, footsteps barreling but uneven, a door opens further down.

"What the fuck is going on?" Your mother snarls drunkenly.

"Nothing, Connie," he calls through a chortle, "girl's just a bit hopped up."

"Hopped up?!" She shrieks and you hear her struggling before she emerges, shining a light at you from the flash of her cell phone, "what?!"

"Calm down, she had some dramamine," he scoffs, "she doesn't have the same tolerance as you, Con."

"Oh, shut up," she huffs and turns back, casting the light away from both of you, "keep it down, some of us are trying to sleep."

"Pleasant as ever," he mutters as he slides his arms under you and lifts you. You touch your forehead, dizzied as he cradles you against his chest. He walks down the hall and stops to push open a door with his foot. He stands in the frame and clucks, "just like a honeymoon, huh? Me carrying you over the threshold." He enters and moves carefully through the dark as it thickens, "but we'll save the fun stuff for now."

He puts you on the bed and you grumble. He hovers over you, his hand trails down your body. You shiver and he presses his lips to your forehead and growls, "I can wait…"

He pushes away and stands straight, lurking as you feel him staring down at you. You hug yourself and roll onto your side, weak and disoriented. He takes in an audible breath and lets it out.

"I'm not even gonna jerk off, as much as my balls are swinging like barbells," he taunts as he leans back on his heels, "I'm saving it all up for you, baby." He clicks his tongue in his cheek, "I'm even gonna be a gentleman and bring your stuff in. Don't worry, you can be naughty for me."

You don't say a word as you close your eyes, hoping to shut out this twisted reality. You hear him retreat, slow deliberate steps that stoke your nerves. He's letting you be for now, but it won't be forever. And now you know exactly what he wants…

🖤

The morning greets you with the sight of an unfamiliar room. Your memory doesn’t rush back but trickles in. A patchwork begins to form in your mind; your father sending you off with Lloyd, his herky jerky driving, the rest stop, and the wobbly scenes that came after.

You remember a conversation but not every word. Only enough to set you on edge. You sit up sharply as the words etch in your mind; ‘don’t worry, you can be naughty for me’. You want to shrug it off as a figment of your own imagination but it’s all too real in your mind.

You look around at the bedroom. Hardwood side for the walls and similarly coloured slats across the floor. The bed frame is elaborate, hand-carved with ornate knobs at the top of each post. There’s a quilty haphazardly pulled over you, gathering at your waist as you hold yourself with palms flat to the mattress.

Your duffle is in the plaid armchair set in the corner. It’s empty. You shake your head, clearing out the last of the cobwebs. Despite the nausea meds and a night of almost lifeless sleep, you wake swiftly. You feel eerily alert of every detail.

You get up and near the tan dresser, your reflection appearing in the circle mirror perched above. Your eye makeup is smeared and your lipstick only left at the edges of your lips. You’re a mess.

Your hat hangs on the one of the posts that holds up the mirror and your knapsack from the other. You rest your hands on the thin metal handles and slide the top drawer open slowly. You look down as the wood grinds loudly.

Your underwear is neatly folded to one side but you didn’t pack enough to fill the whole drawer. At the other side, there’s something else, something unfamiliar. You touch the lacy fabric and hook your fingers through the slender straps.

You pull it out of the drawer and let it hang down to the floor. It’s a full body suit, lace in the pattern of spiderwebs, with no lining. It wouldn’t hide much at all. You look up and see yourself positioned behind it, as if you’re trying to see what it would look like on.

You lower the garment and clear your throat. Last night wasn’t a dream, you’re lucky it was a nightmare. You quickly tuck the lacy bodysuit back into the drawer and close it.

What do you do? Do you tell your parents? You don’t imagine your mother would believe you, if she even listened. She’s already into the wine. And your father, Lloyd is his friend. He’d probably shrug it off as one of his jokes.

You back up and turn to the rest of the room. You hear the birds chirping, trees swaying, and the soft breeze flowing in through the slightly open window. You cross to the pane and look out at the deep cluster of trees that stretches for miles. It’s all the more obvious then that you’ve walked straight into his trap.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #the grey zone #the gray man

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rhimestonetalks · 4 months

Text

Bimbo Superstar!!

Warnings: Stalking, manipulation, perversion, icky themes, age gap (reader isn't a minor guys), reader a straight bimbo, possessiveness, death threats, obsession, mentions of him getting off to you, getting dirty in the kitchen, non con, threats,

A/N: I made reader such a big bimbo but to be fair I was listening to literally every Ayesha Erotica song while writing this- I mean, have you heard 'I love you down'?! 'Dicktator'?!

You were famous, a superstar who stared in various movies, regardless of what they were about. romance, horror, crime, anything you get offered, you star in. Being a superstar meant having a large fanbase, some people idolizing you and others getting off to you. Not like you ever paid attention to the more dark side of your fanbase, you could care less about them.

In the eyes of the public, you were a little bit dumb, that's what they found most endearing about you. The way you always did risky things, the way you misunderstood comments people write about you and the way you would get all excited about childish shows or toys. Typically, fans would call you a 'bimbo'- not like you knew what that meant which only proved their point.

While out in public, you got stopped a lot by people asking for a photo or to get an autographed signed, some even asked for their face to be signed. One guy though caught your attention, he had accidently bumped into you but didn't apologize, instead he glanced at you with this grumpy look on his face. You were quick to apologize with a grin, assuming he's look less aggravated if you smiled at him. That did work usually.

Apparently not this time though because he just walked past you with no further words. You pouted and looked behind you, slightly offended he acted so nonchalantly. Weren't people supposed to get excited when you give them even a shred of affection? Why did this guy completely blow you off? You let out an upset little 'hmph' before turning back around and walking away.

You walked all the way home with a frown on your face, upset somebody had ignored you. You were pretty greedy for affection so even one person ignoring you was enough to upset you. The moment you arrived home you went to the bathroom, deciding to take a nice warm shower to cheer yourself up slightly. After taking off your clothes, you left them on a small stool which was next to the rail where your towel was thrown over. Unbeknownst to you, that guy you bumped into was anything but some grumpy old man. He bumped into you on purpose just so he could place a small mic in your pocket to hear your every move.

He practically ran home after bumping into you to boot up his laptop and listen to you with the microphone. He was obsessed with you. You were so pretty, so naive, so easy to mold into his perfect little girl. He just needed to know what made you tick so he could make you believe he was your soulmate. You were going to be dependent on him, he would make sure of that.

He monitored you for days, learning so much about you. He knew you like to sing in the shower, he knew you blasted the most bizarre music, he knew you were easily spooked, and he knew you usually had pasta for dinner, cereal in the morning, unhealthy snacks every hour in between. Of course, it wasn't enough. He needed to know more but he couldn't just keep listening, he'd never get satisfactory results that way. He needed to get closer so he decided to check your socials and find out when your next meet and greet was. He was glad you were famous, it made it that much easier to know your every move.

Thankfully for him, you had a meet and greet today. 'What luck, huh?' he thought to himself. He didn't need a ticket to get in, he just needed to wait outside the venue after it was over and then follow you home. God, it made him hard just thinking about stalking you home, getting to watch you sleep, even shower if he could. It would be so much better to jack off to you showering rather than searching some image of you on google and trying to get off to that. He couldn't wait.

He'd never gotten up so quick to get out of his apartment and head to the location, he didn't need to be early but it wouldn't hurt, right? Maybe he could take a few photos, even a video but that's mostly so he can zoom into your cleavage and see if he can get a little peak at what you're carrying. His phone was at 13 percent but he could give less fucks about that, he knows the photos he get would be sexy, your stupidity was such a turn on for him.

He walked to the venue, glad it wasn't far from his place because then he wouldn't have to tire himself out. He was still old after all, he wasn't keen to walk for over an hour. When he did make it, he walked around the outside looking for a side entrance to sneak into. Luck had to be on his side because he found exactly what he was looking for. He snuck in quietly to avoid drawing any attention to him. He had his phone in his pocket and his hand was clenched in a fist like he was ready to punch anyone who saw him.

You were currently sitting at a table signing autograph after autograph and receiving so many cute gifts from your fans- most of them being plushies to add to your already large plushie collection. You always smiled and giggled whenever they would compliment you, regardless of the meaning of the compliment.

Leon kept his eyes on you from the side, watching your movements and the expressive reactions you made every time someone spoke even just one word. He couldn't help but to wonder how expressive he could make you. Fuck, he'd pay good money just to fuck you one time- he had this image of you that you'd be a whiny little slut who would let him do anything as long as he complimented you. He'd love to grab those tits of yours, maybe finger your pussy and make you cum over and over for hours just on his fingers alone.

His thoughts got him through the next hour and his heart rate picked up when your little meet and greet was over. He got so excited at the idea of stalking you home just to watch your pretty little face when you sleep. He was also glad because he was sick of seeing other old men stare at you with sexual intent- only he could do that.

You gave the gifts you collected to some people and told them to deliver all of it to your house tomorrow. You wanted some time to clean up your collection of gifts before you added more to it. You had a grin on your face as you went to leave the venue, not through the main entrance but through the side entrance where Leon was. Leon wasn't sure what the fuck to do now. You were heading right towards him and it would be suspicious if he started running. He'd just have to play it off and act like he's allowed to be here. He was sure he could trick you, you weren't the smartest after all.

When you came closer, you noticed him and got excited. You recognized him from a few days ago as the old guy that ignored you. Seeing him here gave you hope that maybe he only ignored you yesterday because he was shy. You hoped if you acted friendly he would open up more and give you some affection so you went towards him, ready to make him super comfortable.

"Hi!! What are you doing back here?? Did you want to say hi to me?? You don't have to be shy, I love my fans!!" You say and Leon feels his cock strain against his pants. The look on your face made him hard for some strange reason. Maybe it was the way he could tell you were fishing for compliments, practically begging with those eyes- begging him.

"Guilty as charged, sweetheart. Just a little shy to talk to someone with such a pretty face," he says with a small smirk. The blush that grew on your face would forever be imprinted in his mind. The giggle that came with it would be too. He was glad it was easy to please you, it just meant it was easy to get you in bed too. Maybe if he lied he could trick you quicker. Maybe he should pretend he's famous or rich, that would get you to submit quick, right?

"Since you're talking to me now, you don't mind if i get an autograph, do you? I might be a big shot but that doesn't mean I don't want special things from dolls like yourself," he speaks, lying right through his teeth. He could tell you believed the lie about him being a bigshot by the way you tilted your head with a curious look.

"You're famous too?" you ask with excitement growing in your stomach. You loved meeting other famous people because you normally could relate to them and hold conversations for hours. When Leon nodded his head, you let out a squeal and took his hand while starting to drag him out of the venue. "We should talk over dessert!! I love finding other famous people!!" You say while marching ahead of him. He was surprised you were so trusting, surprised you hadn't been kidnapped yet. He followed behind you with a smirk, glad he didn't have to stalk you. You'd probably invite him to your house, let him stay the night. Not like he'd actually sleep, no, he'd do much worse.

"You know a place?" he asked, keeping up his friendly persona so you would stick by him. You nodded your head and started to go on a rant about the dessert place claiming that the sweets there were 'so delicious' and 'so cute too!!'. You even pulled your phone out and started showing him photos you had taken of the place and the food. He wasn't really paying attention to what you were saying though. He was thinking about what he'd do to you once he had you alone. Could you blame him? He was just a man.

"If you don't have a sweet tooth, they have some savory foods too," you say while turning your phone off and putting it in your small little bag. "That's good, I'm old so I don't have much of a sweet tooth now," Leon says and you shake your head in disapproval with a pout on your lips. "No ones ever too old for dessert!" you retaliate while looking back at him. He lets out an amused huff as he gives your hand a light squeeze.

"mm.. sure, doll," he says and he notices the way you glance away and smile a little at the pet name. You were real easy, huh? Giggling just because he called you doll. He might as well trash the plan he made to mold you to be the perfect pet, seems he didn't need the complex steps after all. "How far away is this place anyway?" he asks, he didn't care how far away it was- he was just trying keep the conversation going to keep you interested.

"Not that far- It should be round this corner!" You say while picking up the pace, evidently excited to eat dessert and please your sweet tooth. When the store came into view, Leon wasn't surprised to see how pink it was. Of course you'd love a place that's pink and sells desserts, it was so you. "a little pink, don't you think?" he said sarcastically and you giggled again. "It's so pretty though!!" you respond as you two enter the dessert cafe.

You two take a seat and a waitress comes up to you quickly with an excitable greeting, almost matching your energy. You clearly were a regular here since the waitress started up a conversation while giving you two the menus. She even offered a very generous discount on everything. Leon let you two chit chat while he scanned the menu. There were various sweet foods like matcha crepe cakes, custard pudding, tiramisu, pancakes, dango, swiss rolls- everything was very unhealthy. The drinks were somehow just as unhealthy as the desserts. Thankfully, there were savory foods like you said there were.

Once the lady stopped talking, you both ordered what you wanted and started talking. Leon wasn't much of a talker but you definitely were. You didn't stop talking about things you were obsessed with, some would think you're self-centered, Leon thinks he'd want to shut you up. He'd get his chance soon, he was sure. He just sat there listening to you, occasionally saying something and making sure to call you pretty or cute, just to butter you up. When the time came where you had both finished eating, you offered to let him come over- just as he wanted.

"Sure, why not?" he responded, acting like he had no opinion on the matter and not like he wanted to go to your house in the first place. Just to seem like more of a gentleman, he paid for the entire meal, not even asking if you wanted him too. You seemed to like that because you thanked him quite a few times. On the walk home, Leon had his mind on one thing, you. Not like you haven't been on his mind the whole time he'd been around you.

He wasn't surprised when he saw a mansion, of course you'd have a giant house. He was sure you probably didn't even buy the place yourself, one of your loyal fans probably did. "How's someone small like you living in a place this big?" Leon asks teasingly while glancing down at you. You unlocked the door with a small huff as you pout.

"I'm not small," you say while stepping in and taking your shoes off. Leon found it ironic because you were infinitely smaller to him. Something he could use and abuse with no consequences. He walked in behind you and followed as you led him to the kitchen. "Are you still hungry or thirsty?" you asked while opening basically every cabinet in the kitchen and scrambling to grab a bunch of fruit.

"I'm all good, baby," he says in response while watching you with amusement. "Aren't you full from earlier?" he asked with a subtle tilt of his head. He's surprised how quick you were to take food out of the fridge despite having eaten so much not so long ago. "Well, I need to balance out all the sugar with fruit so I don't have to go to the dentist anytime soon," you respond while grabbing a knife and a cutting board.

Leon laughed a little but didn't say anything in response. He just silently watched you cut up fruits and organize them into their own categories, occasionally eating a few instead of putting them in their bowls. "You don't mind, do you?" Leon asks, while reaching towards one of the bowls. He knew you wouldn't care but he was just asking to appear nice. You shake your head, the grin forming on your face again as he took the fruit and ate it slowly.

If Leon was being honest, he was starting to get impatient. He knows it's barely been two hours since you two started talking but he needed to fuck you so bad. He had been waiting years for this moment and he didn't think he could keep this act up. He was starting to wonder if he should just force himself upon you. You wouldn't be able to stop him anyway, he was much stronger than you. He knew his thoughts were disgusting and that he'd probably get locked away in a mental institution because prison wouldn't be enough.

'Fuck it,' is all he thought before he grabbed your face with one hand and kissed you. You were caught off guard and tried to pull away but he didn't let you. He took the knife away and threw it across the room so you couldn't try attack him to defend yourself. When he pulled away from the kiss you immediately yelled at him.

"What the hell are you doing!!" you say and he rolls his eyes and scowls. "Treating myself," he says before kissing you again, much to your discomfort. His hand slipped under your shirt and trailed it's way up to your tits. He'd been waiting for this moment, to finally feel you with his own hands. You continued to try struggle out of his hold, not wanting this old man to fuck you in your kitchen.

"Keep struggling and I'll punch you," he says in between the kisses as he squeezes your tits which cause a noise of discomfort to escape your lips. He slips his hand back out your shirt before taking it off in a rush and leaving it on the counter. Without a word he leans down and starts leaving kisses on your neck. Both his hands slip down to your thighs as he lifts you up on to the counter top. He then slips one of his hands under your skirt and tugs your panties to the side. With his other hand, he unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down to his knees.

"can't wait to fuck this cute lil' pussy. You're gonna let me, right?" He asks but he's definitely not giving you an option to say no. He was mocking you and your lack of free will with the illusion of choice. You shut your eyes when you feel him start to push inside you without a second thought. The sudden intrusion causes a loud yelp to leave your lips but it's quickly followed by more sounds when he starts thrusting at a brutal pace. He's hitting all the right places and it feels way to fucking good but you also don't want this. Why must your body react in such a way?

Your back arches as your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping onto them so hard it's leaving marks. "Fuck, your tight. Do you like this? Like getting- hng- raped by an old man?" He speaks while forcing your back onto the counter and raising your legs so he can get even deeper. Upon hearing his question, you shake your head to try hold any amount of sanity you have. His response was to let out a low laugh, sounding like he finds it amusing how afraid you are. "I'm gonna cum and impregnate you with my children so we can be together forever and I can fuck you every single day. Bet you'd like that you fucking whore," He speaks.

Your eyes widen when he speaks and your fight or flight instincts kick in again. You try slide away but he pulls you right back down and it hurts so bad because it felt like he was about to tear your womb open. "Bad fucking idea," he says before pulling out and grabbing you by the hair before turning you around and forcing you to lay your stomach on the counter. He thrusts in again, quick and hard to make sure he fucks you dumb.

"Almost there.. can't wait to breed this pussy every single day," he mumbles, now just talking to himself and saying how lucky he is. With a drawn out 'Fuck', he releases his seed as deep as possible. In all honesty, he did feel a little bad so he thought what better way to make up for that and let you cum too? He started thrusting again and you were not expecting him to do so. You let out whimpers and whines before you finally had a mind boggling orgasm. He pulled out slowly and let go of you, making you sink to the floor in exhaustion.

You couldn't think straight at all, your brain was in shambles as you tried to bring yourself back down to earth after what Leon had done to you. The only thing you could process was Leon's voice which sounded threatening and made you want to run far away.

"If you tell anyone about this, it'll get worse. No one would ever believe you anyway. You are just a stupid little girl after all,"

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil smut #rhimestone talks

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