When your rizz is so bad you make the sexy vampire crack up

Traces [Mitsuya Takashi x Reader]

Pairing: Mitsuya Takashi x GN!Reader

Summary: You give Takashi your favorite shirt to repair, and he realizes it smells of you...

Warnings: Male masturbation, fantasizing, scent kink (smelling clothing), it is mentioned that reader wears perfume, no gendered pronouns or anatomy used for reader

Word Count: ~1300

Notes: *rolls up four months late with an iced tea* yeah so I've had trouble finishing any of my wips. Somehow completely forgot I wrote this and found it in my drafts so. Have it ig. Mdni banner template from @/cafekitsune

[Ao3 Link]

Your favorite shirt had a tear in it.

You had come to Takashi nearly in tears about it; so of course, he immediately offered to repair it for you. The bright, grateful smile you gave him made him blush even now, hours later.

The sun had set long ago, and he had to wake for work in a few hours, but he wanted to fix your shirt as soon as possible. Just because you were his friend, nothing more. He would do this for any of his friends. You didn’t receive any special treatment from him. No matter how much Draken teased him about how he hovered over you like a doting boyfriend, there was nothing deeper than friendship between the two of you.

He strokes his fingers over the neat stitches of his patch. It is nearly invisible to the naked eye, but there was a slight change in texture over that area that was nearly unavoidable. Takashi hopes you don’t notice. He knows that one of your favorite things about this shirt is its softness, and he’d feel bad if his work impacted that.

He continues to run his hands over the fabric. It is soft, a softness that spoke of repeated wash and wear. He can’t help but let his mind wander to how such fabric would feel against your body…how such material would rub against your silken skin…

In a purely practical view, you see. Takashi was thinking of making you another shirt (just in case his patch job wasn’t good enough on this one), so it makes sense that he is so focused on your clothing, and how it feels. There’s nothing more to it than that.

Well, he finished the repair, so there was nothing left except to set the shirt aside to be returned to you in the morning. That should have been the cue for him to stand up from his desk and head to bed, but he instead lingers in his chair. Should he maybe wash it before he gives it back? It might be a good idea to at least see if his sewing will hold up in the washer, even though he’s confident it will. He wonders if you washed the shirt before you gave it to him; he doubts it. Would it be strange to hand back a dirty piece of clothing, even if it was given to him that way?

Before Takashi even thinks about what he’s doing, he brings the shirt up to his nose and takes a light sniff. He realizes as soon as he does it how utterly bizarre of an action it is, even under the guise of checking its cleanliness. But by then it’s too late.

The shirt smells like detergent, and perfume, and the faintest undertone of sweat; but most importantly, it smells like you. And with that thought comes a wave of heat low in his abdomen.

It’s the same scent he would smell if he ever leaned in close to you… close enough for you to feel his breath brushing against your skin. Close to you in the way he desperately wanted to be. Because beneath his insistence that the two of you were just friends, he longed for you. Draken was right, he was a doting boyfriend, just in his dreams. Because he was too much of a fucking coward to confess his feelings to you.  

Takashi is painfully aware of how pathetic he is; instead of confessing his love (and his lust) for you, like a sane person would, he instead sat here in his room, alone, getting hard from sniffing your clothing like a fucking pervert.

And he is getting hard; his cock is swiftly turning from a half-chub into a full-blown stiffy. Just the barest lingering traces of your scent got him going faster than any porn could.

The shame he feels is muted by his arousal. God, this is such a violation, he thinks, as the hand not gripping onto your shirt drifts down to pop the button on his pants.

He has his nose fully buried in your collar now, right where the smell was most concentrated. His eyes flutter shut as he slips a hand into his pants to grip his bulge over his underwear.

As he slowly rubs himself, he lets his mind conjure up a dream scenario. He imagines you sitting in his lap. Your back is pressed against his chest, his hand around your waist clutching you tight to him and his face buried in your neck. He can smell your favorite perfume, and the barest edges of sweat beginning to glisten on your skin. He pictures himself licking it off of your throat. Takashi’s mouth opens, letting his tongue loll out slightly as if he truly could taste you.

He imagines that the two of you have your pants hiked down, just far enough for his rock-hard erection to slip between your legs. He wraps his hand around his already dripping length, letting out a soft hiss at the stimulation. Takashi begins to stroke faster, humping up into his own hand, envisioning that he was fucking up in between your thighs instead of into his own palm. God, he just knows your legs would be so soft, and perfect to fuck. He can picture it in his mind so vividly, almost to the point of feeling it; how your thighs would squeeze around him. How they would flex as he rubs his cock against your own arousal. How you would whine and moan, and how he would need to keep one arm secured over your waist before you buck off of his lap in your eagerness for more stimulation. Your sounds would echo around the room; he would muffle his own moans by biting the crook of your neck and leaving his marks there.

Takashi is nearly smothering himself in your shirt now; he feels as if he is bathing in your scent. He isn’t sure if it is a lack of oxygen from how he presses your clothes over his face or whether he is just that aroused, but either way, he’s nearly delirious with pleasure. His cock drips so much pre-come it makes every thrust into his hand it let out a wet, sloppy noise.

It only takes imagining you moaning his name and coming over your own stomach from his grinding dick for him to explode. He feels his orgasm flash across his entire body like electricity. His cock twitches in his hand, letting loose stream after stream of hot, thick cum. He continues to stroke himself, milking every last drop from his aching balls as he pictures painting your skin white with his release.

He is left empty-headed and gasping after his orgasm; it takes several minutes for him to regain basic human function, and it takes him even longer than that to notice that your shirt is now coated with his drool and come.

Well, now he definitely has to wash it before returning it to you.

-

Takashi’s guilt over what he had done hit him in full force in the morning. He honestly was tempted to just burn your shirt just so he wouldn’t have to think about what he had done with it. But he knew how much that shirt meant to you, and in the end, he didn’t have the heart to do anything except wash it. (Twice. Just in case.)

He couldn’t look you in the eye when he gave it back to you. He nearly combusted when you pulled him into a surprise hug. (And you smelled just like the shirt had, except more intense. It took all his willpower not to pop a boner right there in your arms).

You wore the shirt the next day. Any innocent enjoyment he could have experienced over your joy was tarnished by the memories of coming on the same fabric you wore so happily. (He was glad he was wearing baggy pants.)

God, he really needed to confess to you, because he couldn’t keep this up. He just hoped you returned his feelings…and he also hoped you would like to fulfill some of his fantasies…

my art summary for 2023! this year was very all over the place for me, but i'm glad to say that i've created despite personal hardships (that were mostly unrelated to art) 🥺 thank you everyone for taking a look at my work this year! 💙 i hope 2024 will be just as fun! 🎉

some documentation of my feelings about art this year under the cut:

i think i was way too hard on myself this year with my art. and i am sitting here like. "goddamn dude. why would you do that to yourself for. stop that LOL"

honestly i would go in a time machine to give myself a pat on the back for drawing SPLATOON for the first time in like 6 years or something. trying to learn the proportions and figuring out how i wanted to draw splatoon was very hard. and i still don't know what i want my splatoons to look like!

i remember back in late 2019 i would bitch to my friend that i didn't understand how face anatomy worked and i would tell her how it was the end of the world. but as i drew more i eventually understood faces better (and i'm still learning!). funny how that works! so i like to think my sploons will be like this too :D

the other thing i would have told 2023 me: overthink less about the learning process. maybe it's because i have way too much free time on my hands but. when i'm not actively drawing i have a lot of analysis paralysis and perfectionism. so i end up not starting anything out of my comfort zone even if it's just for practice because my brain is so hung up on trying to "learn new things optimally" and making things "good enough." and. i. guys.

pleasepleasepleaseplease don't do that to yourself its NOT GOOD!! give urself permission to fuck up and make pieces that dont work out!! u can always revisit the concept later u dont have to do it perfectly the first time!! please!!! i am giving myself and anyone else reading permission to fuck up in creative endeavors. woo!!! i love making mistakes and fixing them later!!

THAT SAID for the things i did sit down and do, i like them (like the pieces here!)! and i'm glad i did them because its like! woaw! more data to work with! so im hoping to do more of that next year! sit down and let art come out! not everything needs to be bangers! things will click eventually! trust!!

so my goal for 2024 is to draw things out of my comfort zone (mostly backgrounds, maybe comics) even if it looks shite!!! no more fucking grid and gradient we are putting characters in LOCATIONS!!! and as a fun bonus it would be funny if each of my pieces in my art summary next year looks like it was made by a different person. because i think its funny to do that. and u should make urself laugh while doing anything :D (i love silly!!! yay!! yipee!! wahoo!!)

been painting my bookcase during quarantine

please

© @captaincentenarian

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Bucky needed to be spoiled.

word count: 1.2k

warnings/tags: nsfw, +18!!! sub!bucky (more or less), handjob, mention of bodily fluids, praise!kink, language, cockwarming.

author notes: this isn't proofread, sorry for possible mistakes. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

“Oh, fu— fuck”.

A muffled moaning escaped his lips when your thumb caressed his reddened tip. Since Bucky woke you up some minutes ago, with curses and groans, you knew perfectly what he needed. Now he was sprawled between your legs and his back was stuck to your chest. The soldier tossed his head to your shoulder, having a better view of his tongue strongly licking his lips and his eyelids closed.

Your right hand pumped his most sensitive skin, up and down, at a medium pace. Enough to please him, but not to make him cum too soon. Bucky was stirring under your strokes, gripping his balls with his cold fingers as the flesh ones got tangled in your hair. Sometimes, he just needed to be touched. Touched by you, and no one else. Be treated with care and tenderness. The last mission had some complications and that took its toll.

“Does it feel good?” You whispered using a honeyed tone of voice into his ear.

“God… yes… so damn good, doll”. He replied as he could.

“You deserve it”. You hummed spreading sweet kisses on the connection of vibranium and skin.

Increasing the pace a little more just to tease him, Bucky responded with a soft growl, rubbing his abdomen with the palm of his free hand, slightly stretching back his head. His hard cock felt warmer with every move of your fingers around it, using some more pressure to give him an added pleasure. Bucky had to settle himself better against your chest, stealing the air from his lungs when you nailed your teeth in his neck. His digits got closed tighter in the back of your head, watching him trying to breathe through his parted lips.

James wasn't too loud while having sex, except in moments like those where your only purpose was to make him enjoy. He couldn't control his vocals, babbling your name with a wrecked tone. You used the tip of your tongue to draw a mark on his skin, sucking and hollowing your cheeks slightly. You loved to mark your territory, although those hickies never lasted longer than a day.

“Puts your hands on my thighs”. You ordered him, placing your legs over his to keep them wide open at any moment.

He obeyed with a soft pout, landing your free fingers on his balls to massage them slowly, contrary to how you were pumping his firm dick. Bucky would never recognize it, but he loved when you took control and told him what he should do. Tilting his head, he kissed you slowly, invading his mouth with your tongue as you felt his anxiety by digging his fingertips in the sides of your legs. Both were hungry for each other, jerking his length faster till earning again his moans and his curses.

Bucky looked like the most beautiful piece of art with the pearls of sweat decorating his forehead and some tufts of his black hair stuck on it. He bit his bottom lip fixing his pale blue eyes on yours, not needing words to express to you what you were making him feel.

“You're such a good boy, aren't you?” You purred against his lips, brushing them with yours. “My good boy”.

“Yes… I am”. Bucky whined when the pleasure started to be too much for his body.

“Of course you are, and you belong to me”. You spoke this time with a hoarse voice that gave him goosebumps, watching your boyfriend swallow. “Say it”.

“'M… you— yours, doll… only yours… I swear it”. His dick was twitching between your fingers, getting tensed as you squeezed his balls tighter. “Fu— Fuck… I need to… I need to cum…”

“Beg for it, my good boy”. You murmured, licking his parted lips with the tip of your tongue while slowing down the pace of your strokes, causing him to sob.

“Don' be… petty, doll… C'mon… C'mon, lemme cum, please”. Bucky growled in gasps, starting to rock his hips against your hand unconsciously.

He needed to release all the frustration running through his body. And he wanted you to help him with it. For you, it was a little funny how easy it was to make your big bad boyfriend plead. Although he hated you for it, trying to do his best to not push you apart and finish by himself.

“Baby, ple— please… Please…” Bucky moaned closing his eyes strongly, gripping your thighs with his huge hands. “God… I ca— can't wait… I can't…”

“You 'gonna disobey me?”

At the moment you replaced your left hand from his balls to his throat, forcing him to look at you again, his breathing became erratic, keen. His chest rose and fell furiously, not being able to control a single action of his anatomy.

“Please…” He begged you one last time, feeling all his blood concentrated in a concrete point of his cock and the knot within his low abdomen growing. “Doll… please.

“Cum for me. Now, James”. You commanded jerking him off faster than before, receiving a delighted cry from him.

Soon, the white ropes fell and stained his torso. His whole body was shaking, his Adam's apple was dancing under the palm of your hand still gripping his throat, the toes of his feet were curled and his abdomen was tense because of the orgasm exploding within him. Shutting up his vocals by devouring his mouth, your tongue fought his with dominance, while he was trying to breathe through his nose.

Collecting his arousal with your fingertips, you broke the kiss leaving him running out of air, sucking clean your digits under his attentive and exhausted gaze.

“Should be illegal to taste like that”. You purred giving him a whole show. “Wanna try it?”

“Please”. He mumbled leaning his head enough to lick your lips and suck the tip of your tongue. Bucky couldn't help but gasp at the savor of his jizz mixed with your saliva.

Not saying a single word, after placing one last kiss on his sweaty forehead, you stood up from your bed to go to the bathroom. Wetting a small towel with warm water, you came back to find your big soldier lying on his back and trying to recover. You kneeled on the mattress to clean first his face from the sweat, before continuing with his chest and abdomen and finishing with his —yet— twitching erection. Bucky sighed because of the careful caress, placing his hand made of vibranium on your back.

You tossed the towel somewhere over the floor, stripping yourself after that to lie by his side. “Come here…”

Using a sweet thread of voice, you urged him to turn and to let you embrace him. What he wasn't expecting was one of your hands to be snaked among your bodies, while you put a leg over his waist. Bucky understood your intentions when he was buried deep inside your soaked walls, sinking a more than pleased growl in your neck. He closed his arms around your body, forcing his cock to beyond your limits and holding it within your warm pussy.

“You're an angel, babydoll”. Bucky whimpered, feeling your walls clenching his sensible erection. “I love you… I love you”.

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Mr.Natsuo being your teacher and you purposely flirt with other boys as wear really short skirts in his class to make him ✨jealous ✨and horny , he asks to see you after class and you get fucked on his table 🥺🥺 Sorry I’m on my period and I’m going feral 😃

No, no- never apologize for this! It makes me feral too ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ Natsuo Sensei, please come get this pussy ♡

tags/warnings: teacher/student relationship, teacher kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, manipulation, improvised gags

A/N: I wrote Natsuo a bit more rough than I normally do, but I think it turned out okay;;; I also abused the words professor, doctor, sensei, and teacher;;;;

But. Ya know.

Enjoy! ♡

You were fucked the moment you walked into his classroom. Introduction to Human Anatomy and Physiology. 2:30 pm, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Led by Doctor Natsuo Todoroki. An insert into your schedule that seemed harmless enough. Interesting, surely. Something you were a little worried about- what if you turned out squeamish despite your love for all things horror and gore?- and something that would just fill your first semester of college. Harmless. Routine for your major. Nothing to give you any sort of fuss or throw you into a flustered little mess. Or, so you thought. Honestly, you hadn’t given much thought to what your professor might be like. You were more worried over having to share a dorm room with a stranger, if you could handle your class load, how hard it might be to adjust being away from home and all you’ve ever known. You suppose your mind’s eye might have conjured a vague image of a wrinkled and wizened old man with a stern gaze and whitened hair. You suppose you might have faintly imagined Doctor Todoroki to be a tired geezer in a lab coat and faded sweater vest. You suppose you might have had the predetermined, unconscious notion that your professor would be intelligent, elderly, stern and, well, someone who you would only think about in terms of being someone to give you tests and homework and lectures. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to find a smiling, young man with a handsome face and thick thighs, big arms. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to lock eyes with your professor and immediately go weak in the knees under a stormy gaze and a sunshine smile. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to only have your breath snatched away, your cheeks flared with a flush, your heart forced into a thundering staccato.  You didn’t think that Doctor Todoroki would be hot. But, oh god- oh god- he’s gorgeous. Doctor Todoroki- well, Doctor Natsuo or even professor; he seems to prefer those much more than his family name- is, honestly, a living, breathing wet dream. He’s hot. He’s kind. He’s friendly. He’s funny. He’s perfect. The class that you thought would be only mildly interesting turns out to be your favorite. How could it not be when you’re blessed with a full hour of delicious eye candy, a teacher that’s so generous with his praise and has your spine tingling whenever he says your name? He’s so friendly and he’s so polite, too. The way he calls you Miss is a little old fashioned, sure, but it sends your mind reeling and your cheeks flushing- quick fantasies zipping through your thoughts as your thighs involuntarily push together. Your crush springs up from the moment you see him and it only gets stronger with each passing day. Little accidental brushes against you, the smiles he sends your way, the scent of his cologne whenever he leans over your table to correct an answer, the way his praise rings in your ears late at night- it all sends you spiraling. You’ve never had a crush quite like this before. Certainly not on a teacher. You want him, though. Oh, god, do you want him. Your roommate is the unfortunate one that has to hear you whine and moan over him- you’re much too embarrassed to admit your crush to your friends back home or any of your family; they’d be sure to scold you, to call you foolish and chide that you’re a silly little girl. She understands it, at least. That helps, keeps you from being too ashamed. “I mean, it’s no surprise you’ve got a thing for him,” she muses. “He’s young. He’s hot. Anyone would get a little crush.” You don’t like that thought, really. You don��t want to think about others lusting after your sensei. “Why not try shooting your shot?” At your scandalized look, she huffs and shrugs, rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on,” she scoffs. “No need to be such a good girl. Professors hook up with their students all the time. You just gotta be discreet.” “I can’t,” you protest- shaking your head and pulling your knees up to your chest. “And it’s not like he- he doesn’t see me in that kind of way.” “You don’t know that,” she counters with a click of her tongue. Another huff leaves her and it’s easy to see that her patience with the situation is waning. “Either feel it out or get over it or find someone else to moon over. There’s no point in moping and stewing.” You’re not moping. You’re just- you’re just- Okay, you’re mooning over him like she said. But you’re not moping. It’s just- it’s such a new situation for you. You’ve always had crushes on your peers- never anyone older than you by more than a year or two, never anyone in a position of authority over you. A taboo situation like this has never been your cup of tea- you’ve always been a good, sensible girl. Crushes on teachers have never been something you thought to entertain. But now? Well, now... You bite your lip and eye your reflection, nervously touch up your makeup in the bathroom mirror. It’s light and simple but pretty and sweet. Stalking Professor Natsuo’s social medias helped you gain the insight that he seems to prefer his women more natural and cute, innocent looking- all glossy lips and doe eyed, fluttering lashes with just the barest hint of mascara and blush. The false lashes might be a bit too much, but they make you look even more doll like and, that too, is something he seems to like. Pretty. Simple. Doll like. Sweet. Young. You think you’ve managed to put that look together rather nicely. The pleated skirt- just shy of rising above your knees- and the soft cardigan help, too, and, really, you don’t think you’ve ever looked quite so innocent before- even when you were a wide eyed, straight A, pure and untouched student back in high school. ...god, what are you doing? A groan leaves you and you nearly scrub the makeup from your face, nearly rip off the skirt and switch it out for the leggings you have stuffed inside your backpack. Nearly. You don’t think that this is really going to work. You don’t think that this is really going to draw any sort of reaction from him. And, well, maybe that’s what you need? Maybe you need to truly see that it’s a fruitless desire- maybe then it’ll shrivel up and away and you’ll be free from your sinful fantasies, free from the desire that has your head spinning. And, well, it’s been a while since you’ve dressed up a little, too- the rigors of college have had you leaning more toward comfort than style, have kept you too tired and busy to give time to makeup and skirts and a polished appearance. It feels kind of nice being all cute and attractive instead of frumpy and disheveled. ...you’re not going to change. You deserve to feel nice and you’re dying- desperate- to see how your professor will react to you looking nicer than the tired lump you usually display. Just act normal, you tell yourself as you head toward the class- clutching your textbooks tight to your chest. Don’t be too hopeful. Don’t be too excited. Don’t get disappointed. Just- just think of it as an experiment. That’s all it is, right? Just an experiment! You’re just putting a hypothesis to a test! (What a load of crap. It does help to calm your fluttering, nervous heart, though) You swallow as you approach the room and take a deep breath to steady yourself, bite your lip as you eye the open door. You can hear him rustling around and you know that the others will be around soon- you can’t just keep standing there like a dumbstruck, coltish fool. Another swallow, another deep breath. You walk into the room and fix a nervous smile on your face, chirp out a nearly stuttered “Good afternoon, Professor.” He’s faced away from you- broad back greeting your vision as he scrawls something across the blackboard. His head turns, though, and you get to hear an absent “good afternoon” replied back, you get to watch his gaze fall on you. His hand pauses. His snowy lashes blink once, twice, three times. Surprise flickers over his face- evident enough that you can catch it without doubt. His eyes flick down and back up so quickly that you almost miss it, dart away whenever your smile shrugs off its nervousness and grows ever so sweetly. You sit yourself down front and center- right in front of your sensei’s desk. He doesn’t look back at you as you organize your books and gear. He doesn’t look back at you as you primly cross your ankles and rest them to the side, drag a curious, studious gaze along his back. You had hoped for a response, but you hadn’t really expected it- Professor Natsuo has been kinder and more friendly and open than your other teachers, yes, but he’s still been professional. He’s never crossed any boundaries and you’ve never see him give another student the once over. This is...promising. Your cheeks stay flushed as the other students file in, but your anxiousness is gone away. Sure, that little look doesn’t really mean anything but now you’re...well. Now you’re curious. Desperate and needy for some validation of your silly little fantasies, but curious too. Could you...would he...? You wet your lips, unthinking, and keep your eyes on Doctor Natsuo throughout the class- analyzing his behavior, absorbing his words, taking in how his gaze finds you a bit more often than it usually does. Interesting. Encouraging. The next day you wear a skirt that’s a little bit shorter, don sweet mary janes and ankle socks decorated in lacy frills. Steel grey eyes dart to your legs more than once during the class and you even catch your professor tracing his eyes over your hips when he thinks you’re not looking- his reflection in the shining convex mirror hanging above your dissection table showing guilt, an almost nervous tilt to his lips. Oh, you’ve got him. But how do you proceed...? Your worries and frets and protests over taboo desires are long gone- they got dashed away with the first blink of his long lashes, with the first glance over he had given you. Really, you should feel ashamed over discarding your morals so easily, but it’s an exciting situation, isn’t it? It’s nothing you would ever think to find yourself in. But college is all about new, exciting situations, right? It’s about taking chances. God, you hope this is really a chance for you- you’ve never had the opportunity to play a coy game like this before. It’s...fun. High school would have been a lot more interesting if you had known this kind of thrill. You come home smiling ear to ear after a successful attempt at making Doctor Natsuo blush. (A sway of your hips, a flit of your slowly shortening skirts, a coo of his name as you thanked him for such an interesting lesson, a sweet smile and your fingers daring to skim ever so lightly and quickly over his wrist as you walked out of the classroom) The smile on your face has your roommate’s brow quirking, but one look at your outfit has her lips pulling into a smirk- something near gloating on her face. “You shooting your shot?” she asks, already knowing the answer. “Something like that.” You plop down on your bed, smile waning but still present- content as you let yourself get comfortable. She doesn’t offer any more conversation and you’re okay with that- mind fixating instead on how you could possibly further things with your sought after teacher. Things are good, for now- much better than you had ever thought they would be. The little forays into flirtation have been fun, exciting and they’ve even helped boost your confidence- something you hadn’t realized was sorely needed. It’s been fun. And it stays fun- the short skirts, the girly lilt you find yourself injecting into your voice, the soft makeup and sweet perfume, the way you always leave the class with wet panties and a vibrating exciting buzzing through you, the way your teacher’s eyes can’t help but dart over you, the way he breathes in just a bit deep when you get a little too close, the way he swallows whenever you so lightly purr his name- it all stays fun. Fun, but...frustrating. After a while it gets frustrating. Because he doesn’t do anything, not really. He stays a proper, good teacher- something you give props to him for- and he never returns your gentle flirtations, the subtle and silent invitations you push his way. He’s so...professional. It’s kind of a turn on- kind of. It’s mostly just...frustrating. You find your lips dipping into a pout more and more, find yourself sulky and downtrodden. Sure, this has been fun and interesting but you...you want more. You want him. You need him. You’ve needed him for so long it seems. You find your muffled ministrations in the shower getting more and more frantic- your fingers pumping into your cunt relentlessly but giving you none of the relief you seek. When you are able to cum, it’s always with a whimper of sensei or doctor or professor- sometimes even a daring Natsuo. You get restless and impatient, desperate and a little hopeless. If your teacher senses or sees that, he doesn’t say anything- in fact, his gaze seems to avert from the feverish look in your eyes, he seems to pull away from your bold, reckless attempts to get closer to him.  That hurts. That makes you angry. That makes you feel stupid. But he still wants you- or, at least, he still finds you tempting. You know he does- he can’t hide the way his eyes fall on you whenever you walk into the room, he can’t hide the quick glances he lays over you when he thinks no one else can see. You see his hesitance and want. You see it. ...if he’s not going to act on his desires, if he’s going to resist, then you’re going to kick things up a notch- someone has to; you can’t live with this stalemate any longer. It’s not a punishment, not really- it’s just throwing in his face what he’s missing out on. (My, whenever did you become so reckless and cruel? When did you become so desperate?) The ratio of boys to girls in the class is quite staggering- something one would think the university wouldn’t allow for fear of lawsuits. There are three boys for each girl- ambitious, studious, virginal, frantically horny things with expectations piled high on their shoulders and stress wracking their every thoughts. (It wouldn’t be unfair to say they you’re just like them- just sans the virginal part, double the stressed and horny part to make up for it) They’re good boys, for the most part- friendly and tired, nice but none of them quite to your taste or striking enough to jar your fixation from your sensei. Some of them are even handsome- which makes this a lot easier. “Oh, you brought me coffee? Thank you so much, Dai-chan! You’re so sweet!” The kiss you lay upon your classmate’s cheek makes him blush and fluster. It also makes your dear teacher stare- eyes wide and brow furrowed when you flick your gaze his way, his lips twitching as if he’s not sure if he wants to frown or not. The soft giggle you let out does bring a frown- something that deepens whenever one of the other boys comes over to grab your attention, try his hand. You should have thought of using them earlier on- they’ve been eager enough to try to flirt this whole time. Doctor Natsuo, for his part, doesn’t say or do anything- of course he doesn’t. But his usually happy temperament turns a bit tense, a little sour. He doesn’t lash out, not really, but you can see the way his teeth grit and his brow puckers whenever one of the boys dares to lay their hand on your arm, the small of your back. Good, you think- vicious and bitter, sour yourself. Get jealous. “What the fuck is up with Todoroki lately?” “Dude, did you hear how he snapped at Araka?” “Do you think something happened? He seems...stressed.” Your classmates trade hushed whispers as they flee the room, but you don’t think to join them- you stay quiet and soak in their quiet gossip, smile sharply without a look back to your grimacing, frustrated sensei. Just a little more. At this point, you’re not even sure what you want from him- an admittance of his own desires, him hurting and annoyed? You don’t know. You just want something to happen- you need something to break this little silent game apart. You think and think and think over what could raise the situation to the breaking point and, finally, you settle on something simple. The night before your Thursday class, you invite over one of your classmates- Eita; one of the more attractive ones, one of the less nervous ones. Your roommate is gracious enough to stay away (thanks to your offer of money for booze and weed and help with her homework) and you have the room all to yourself. Three beers and some easy flirtations, just a few small touches- that’s all it takes to get what you’re after. You don’t let him fuck you- he’s not worth it, nowhere near what you want- but you let him fumble his hands over you, are kind enough to wrap your hand around his cock while his lips frantically roam and suck over your neck. You don’t let him come until you’re absolutely sure that you have what you want. It reduces him to a whining mess- which, hey, is honestly kind of cute. You rebuff his sweet offers to “return the favor” and send him off with a kiss to the cheek, spend the rest of your night nursing a glass of wine and silently brooding- mind tired and body exhausted, your desires so restless. The next day you dress in a pleated, short skirt that just barely skims the middle of your thighs and fix your hair into a cute little updo, don your now signature mary janes and pull on a brand new pair of knee high socks. The sly comments you get throughout the day are annoying, but easily ignored. You’re impatient through the morning and it only gets worse as Doctor Natsuo’s class creeps closer. You spend the day jittering your leg and biting your lip, checking your phone every few moments and huffing to yourself, clutching at your arms and trying not to pace up and down the school’s halls. Finally- finally- it’s time for your favorite class. You have to force yourself to walk slowly toward it. You have to breathe in deep to quiet your pounding heart, to still your trembling hands. This has to spur something on. You walk into the classroom- skirt swaying, lips hiding your anticipation behind a smile. You ignore Professor Natsuo and make your way to Eita’s desk, plant your elbows on it and rest your chin in your hand, arch your hips up so your teacher can be teased by the sight of your soft thighs and curves, taunted by how just an inch or two of fabric prevents your panties from being flashed. (Is he looking? He has to be looking. He better be looking.) “Eita-kun,” you coo, sweet and loud enough for others to hear, “I had such a good time last night. We should do it again.” Eita’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush. You might enjoy it if you weren’t so distracted by the noise of a coffee cup slamming down and clattering on the desk behind you, if your breathing didn’t hitch so sharply at the fault in your sensei’s composure. Slowly, you straighten yourself to standing and turn around. Professor Natsuo’s face is red and flustered- jealous- when you look and his eyes are narrowed at you, his coffee spilled on the desk. You offer him a sweet blink and a sweeter smile, tilt your head so he can see the blossomed bruise tinting your throat pewter and mauve, a stormy and swirling blue. His eyes widen, his gaze darts behind you. Your smile grows. How do you like that, sensei? Your hands tremble just a little- from nerves, from excitement, from aching anticipation- and you clasp them behind your back to hide them from his gaze, lean forward and peer over his desk. “Are you okay, sir?” you ask him- chirping and so very sweet. “Do you need help cleaning that up?” He stares at you- disbelieving and still so evident in his shock, his envy. Some strangled noise chokes its way up and out of his throat whenever you flutter your lashes his way and smug amusement gathers in you as you watch his jaw tighten, his teeth grit as he tries to gather his composure once more. “No. Sit.” Oh. You’ve never heard him sound like that before. So authoritative, so stern. So hot. It’s your turn to let out a noise- something soft and almost curious, accompanied by flushed cheeks. You obey your teacher and sit down without a fuss- thighs pressing together and already growing damp, lip bitten and eyes half-shut as you watch him silently clean up the coffee. He doesn’t look at you throughout the whole lesson. He doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t call on you. He doesn’t smile or laugh or joke around. He’s...cold throughout the class- words iced over and posture rigid, his face holding no warmth at all. You gulp as you listen to him lecture and squirm in your seat- nerves starting to gather and grow despite the way you’re still so very wet between your thighs. You had wanted something to happen. You were determined to force anything to happen. But maybe- maybe you miscalculated. Maybe you fucked up. It’s something of a relief when the class ends. Usually, you like to linger for a few moments, like to stay just a bit longer than necessary so you can grab your teacher’s attention with a question or some sort of compliment over the lesson. Today, though? Today you shoot up from your seat without delay, begin to gather all your supplies as quickly as you can. At least...at least until he says your name. It’s firm, just a little icy. You stiffen at the sound and gulp, look back at him with wide eyes and a nervous smile. Before hearing your name part from your teacher’s lips would send you flying high, but right now...right now your skin is tingling with a giddy apprehension, your fingertips are trembling as you search his face for any hint of what’s to come. “I need to have a word with you,” Doctor Natsuo tells you- eyes boring into yours and keeping you frozen where you stand. “I, um,” you try to weakly protest, “I have to get to my next class...” “It won’t take long.” If he catches your wince, he doesn’t react to it. Professor Natsuo simply leans against his desk as the rest of the students file out- arms folded over his chest, sleeves rolled up to display thick forearms. And you? You stay rooted to the spot- heart pounding and eyes still wide, cheeks flushed and thighs damp. When the last student leaves, Professor Natsuo walks over to the door and closes it shut. Click. W-Wait- did he just- “D-Doctor Natsuo?” you squeak out. “What are you- what are you doing?” “I think I should be asking that question.” Oh, shit. Your teacher turns around slowly and the look he gives you takes your breath away. He looks angry and frustrated. He looks pissed. Pissed, but there’s- there’s something more- there’s- “What-” He takes a step toward you, you take a step back. “- do you think you’re doing, young lady?” The whimper that leaves you is equal parts anxious and needy- soft and unwanted. You probably shouldn’t find the growl in his words so hot. Your knees probably shouldn’t knock together and your pussy shouldn’t throb at the snap of young lady. But it’s- you didn’t expect him to be like this. But you- it’s- A tremble wracks through you and Professor Natsuo takes another step toward you. You bump against his desk whenever you stumble back and flinch at the wood that slams into your lower back, gasp and whimper once more when big hands fall to the table on both your sides, when your teacher brackets your trembling form and keeps you enclosed and captive. His eyes are narrowed. His cheeks are flushed. His cologne smells so nice up close, his height has your lashes fluttering and your breathing shuddering as you’re forced to tilt your head back to look up at him with wide eyes. “S- Sir?” “Don’t sir me,” he snaps, crowding closer to you. “I’ve lost my patience with you playing coy.” He’s lost his patience? Your mouth opens to shoot off something probably very stupid, but the words die as a big, cool hand finds your throat and forces your head to a tilt. The touch is beyond expected, has you crying out softly and gripping onto his shirt, almost hyperventilating. The pin prick retraction of your pupils is dramatic and so is your whimpering exhales but, god, this is not what you had expected. “You’ve been toying with me for weeks now,” Doctor Natsuo growls out, his fingers digging into the hickey on your neck. “All your short skirts and little touches, your shameless flirtations- you’ve been trying to drive me mad, haven’t you?” “Pr- Professor,” you whimper out, thighs rubbing together and a moan threatening to sound. “I just- I just wanted-” “You just wanted some attention,” he huffs out- his other hand gripping at your waist and his knee knocking your legs apart. “You wanted to see what would break me, right? That’s why you came in flaunting this today.” Your teacher’s thigh slots between yours and his fingers push deeper into your bruised flesh, his stormy eyes narrow and take in the way you shudder, how your cheeks flush even darker and your eyes start to turn just a bit glossy. A mewl leaves you- embarrassing and so needy, so helpless- and you whine softly after, try to turn your head away so he can’t see the way all your bravado and confidence is melting away into your selfish, needy, hopeless desires. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he demands- forcing your face back to him. He doesn’t look angry now- just frustrated- and your stuttered little gasp only makes his teeth grit, the way your thighs squeeze his makes his breath in sharp and deep. “Go on- tell me.” You- you can’t. You can’t deny him, can’t lie. Not now that things have finally boiled over, not now that he’s finally confronting you. Not now that you’re about to come just from the feeling of his thigh pressing against your soaked cunt. Not now that you’re so close to moaning and falling into a pleading, begging thing. “I- I had to,” you whine. “You weren’t- you wouldn’t-” “Tch.” The grip on your neck tightens and leaves you whimpering, leaves your fingers curling even tighter into your teacher’s shirt. “I was trying to be a good teacher,” Professor Natsuo grits out. “I was trying to keep from taking advantage of you.” Take advantage of you? You would laugh if it weren’t for your wettening lashes, the way your hips are aching and tightening from trying not to grind over your sensei’s thigh. “Sensei-” “Did you fuck him?” he interrupts- fingers dragging over your hickey and hand gripping your hip tighter, pulling you closer and making you whimper, tremble as your cunt is made to glide over his leg. “Don’t tell me after all this time you settled for a boy like that?” You shake your head the best you can- almost frantic with it, flushed and vaguely angry he would even insinuate that you would hook up with someone after you’ve put in so much effort toward him. “N- No! I wanted- I didn’t want- didn’t want him,” you whine, hips jerking despite yourself, a mewl leaving you whenever your teacher’s breath catches. “Sensei, please-” “Fuck.” The groan that leaves him has your lashes fluttering, your lips parting with a soft whine. The hand on your neck moves to your scalp and buries thick fingers in your hair, messes up your updo and sends your hairtie flying. He ignores the protesting noise that leaves you and looks down at you instead- eyes dark with a need that mirrors your own, nostrils flaring as his breathing turns heavy. “You are so naughty,” Doctor Natsuo growls- one hand curling his fingers into your hair, the other smoothing down your waist and to your spread legs. “Filthy little thing.” Filthy? You’re not- you’re not- The hand at your waist moves to loosen his tie and you whimper when he pops open his top button, when he shifts his hips forward and you feel his cock hard on your thigh. “Pl- please, sensei,” you breathe out in a beg- unplanned and so thoughtless, even overwhelmed. “I- I’ll be good! I won’t tell! I just want- I need-” You cut yourself off with a whine and rock against his thigh, look up at him with your wet lashes and flushed cheeks. He groans whenever you whimper and you clutch at him tighter, try to press against him. “I need you, sensei,” you plead- so soft and so desperate. “I need you. I- I promise I’ll be good. I just- I just-” You whimper once more and he groans, grips your waist and sits you on the table rough enough to make all his pens rattle and shake. He slots himself between your spread legs and buries his fingers back into your hair, presses his mouth against yours so fast and hard that it makes your whole world screech to a screaming halt. Your eyes widen and then slam shut, your body goes limp as you whimper and tremble from the way his tongue traces over your bottom lip. You allow your mouth to open and your teacher groans over it, slips his tongue inside and forces you to bend back as he presses closer toward you. Whenever he pulls his head back from yours, there’s a glistening of spit on his lips, a flush to his cheeks. You squirm under his gaze- suddenly so shy, suddenly so flustered- and whine as he stares down at you, arch your back and gasp whenever he forces your head to the side once more and presses his lips to your throat. It hurts when his teeth dig into the already tender, bruised flesh but it sends your mind reeling, has you mewling and reaching to scratch at his back. “Y- Yes! Please! Cover it! Make that mark yours!” The words fly out fast and without any thought, the begging comes from a place you didn’t realize existed within you. You don’t even realize that you mewled such a thing out until your teacher is groaning against your neck, until he’s muttering a, “Fuck- that’s a good girl” right against your throat. If you weren’t so swept up in the situation, you might feel embarrassed. But, you’re not- you’re just gasping and flushed and made even more needy from the praise, from the way your sensei’s hands drag down your sides to grip your waist. Tears blur your vision and a stuttered breath has you shaking, your nails digging deep into soft fabric and clawing over a broad back. “Doctor Natsuo please!” Another groan from your teacher and his hand slips under your skirt, his fingers push your soaked panties to the side and dip into your sopping cunt. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he growls, curling two thick digits and making you cry out. “Hey- shh, shh. Be good. You promised you were going to be good.” Be good? Oh, fuck, you wanna be good. You bite your lip as your teacher fucks his fingers deep inside you and try so, so, so hard to stay nice and quiet and good. He watches you as you try to muffle your whimper behind your hand and you shake from the way he licks his lips, from the way his lashes lower and his gaze turns approving. “That’s it, baby,” he mumbles. “Good girl. Fuck- turn over.” Professor Natsuo backs away and you can’t quite bite back your whine whenever his fingers leave, can’t quite inject any gracefulness in the way you scramble to comply. He yanks you back whenever you’re on your stomach- has your knees knocking against his desk and your hips arching up. There’s no warning when he grabs the plush flesh of your ass and spreads your cheeks wide. Your face flushes and a soft noise leaves you, your thighs press together as you squirm and whimper. “Cute,” he murmurs, squeezing your butt roughly.  “Even better than I imagined.” Imagined? Oh- oh. He- he thought of you. He fantasized about you. Sensei- sensei got off to you. Your cunny clenches and your teacher groans- low and deep and accompanied by the sound of a zipper being pulled down. When you look back over your shoulder at him, his fingers are undoing his tie and you’re left blinking in confusion as he wraps each end around his palms. “Professor...?” “Open your mouth.” You do so without hesitation- lips falling open and fingers curling against the wood of the desk. Professor Natsuo slips his tie between your lips and you whine as it digs into your cheeks, shudder whenever he gives it a tight tug. “Now be a good student for your sensei,” he instructs, gathering the tie in one hand and pulling out his cock with the other. “Quiet and good.” You nod the best you can, but it’s a promise you can’t quite keep whenever his cock nestles between your cunt’s lips, whenever the tip eases into your hole and then slams fully in. You cry out- spit wetting your teacher’s silk tie and his hand laying heavy across your ass, your head getting yanked back whenever he jerks on the tie. “What did I say?” He said- he said to be quiet and good. You have to be quiet and good. A muffled whimper leaves you and you rock your hips back, squeeze around your sensei’s cock with the softest little whine. He groans and his hips pap against you, his dick drives in deep enough to have your toes curling and your lashes fluttering. He’s- he’s big. Bigger than you thought he’d be. Bigger than you dared to imagine. The stretch is- it’s so much. But you’re so wet. You’re so needy. Tiny, strangled whimpers leave you as your professor falls into a rhythm and you shudder, do your best to fuck your hips back against him. That stops whenever he grips your waist with a grunt and you whine softly, still and let your teacher fuck you how he pleases. You take it and you love it, get pushed close to orgasm faster than ever before. You almost collapse when you come on his cock and you hiccup out a whine of pleasure, a muffled mewl of his name. Doctor Natsuo groans as your gummy insides spasm around him and his grip becomes bruising, his rocks get faster- harder. Feels so good! Feels so good! Sensei’s dick feels so good! “Shen- shensay!” “Oh, fuck- god- you’re so tight, baby. Good girl- you like sensei’s cock deep inside you? Is this what you wanted?” You whimper and nod- cheek scrubbing against the desk, cunt gripping his cock like a vice. He grunts and grabs onto your hips, forces your head up and back as the tie drags you and forces your back to arch in a tight, painful angle. Still feels good, though. Still feels like everything you wanted. You want- need- so much more. “Shoulda done this sooner,” your teacher groans out. “Shoulda- fuck!” He slams in you deep enough to have your eyes rolling back, hard enough to have your whole body shaking and your nails clawing across his desk. “C’mon, c’mon- take it- take it! Sensei is- Sensei is gonna fill you up- gonna give that needy cunt what it needs!” He’s gonna- he’s gonna- oh, god! Doctor Natsuo fucks into you faster and faster- the movements jarring you against the desk and making it rock, the jab of his cock rushing you to the height of pleasure again. You cry out as he slams into you- the tie falling from your lips as he drops it and forces you back onto the desk, slides his arms under you and grips your shoulders, fucks into you rough and deep and so, so perfectly. Warmth floods inside your pussy and you whimper as you’re filled with your sensei’s seed, twitch and come on his cock again- lashes fluttering and teeth digging into your lip to muffle your whine, honeyed insides milking his dick as if you need more. You do need more- you do. How could you have ever imagined one time would be enough to satisfy your fantasies? Your teacher pants and grinds into you- hot breath fanning over your cheek and his cock sliding out with a wet pop whenever he draws his hips back. You whimper at the loss but mewl when his fingers draw up your slit, slide back and down onto your knees as exhaustion slips over you. Fuck...fuck, did that just happen? A touch to your cheek has you looking up and you blink hazily at your sensei’s flushed cheeks, the shining and wet cock that he stuffs inside his trousers. “Satisfied?” he asks, slightly breathless and a groan hiding in his voice. “Going to be a good girl now? No more teasing sensei?” You nod, not quite thinking over the action or processing the words, only close your eyes when the slightest smile flits across his lips, when his fingers brush over your cheek and his gaze goes heavy lidded. “Sensei...” His fingers glance over your jawline and down low, stroke over your new hickey and bring a mewl. With your eyes closed, you can’t see the way his expression ripples with something hesitant and something curious, something...greedy. Strong hands help you up from the floor and you shudder as your legs tremble, press against his chest and look up at him with heavy eyes, a yearning that you can’t quite hide. He strokes your hair and it’s...nice. Unexpected from the way he reacted before, so very welcome. “...I was harsh with you.” The apologetic tone is also unexpected. Your professor seems to almost fluster, hesitates as he strokes your hair again and allows his grey gaze to look over your flushed cheeks and parted lips, the desire that you can’t quite hide. “...you were a good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and making you flush even more. “...you gonna keep being good? Not tell?” Of course you’re not going to tell. Of course you’re not going to risk this. You nod without any hesitation and you’re graced with a smile, another kiss that has you wanting to melt against him. “Then in that case...” You blink and watch as he breathes in deep, tilt your head as your heart begins to flutter in your chest. “Come over tonight. I can give you what you want properly.” He wants...he wants you to come over? He wants to fuck you again? You could swear it’s almost a smirk that forms on his face whenever your eyes widen and your breath catches. “I- I...yes, please.” He hums and he steps away- leaving you to stumble slightly and look at him in wonder, an unending adoration that you had pretended wasn’t underneath all your lust for him. “Good. But for now...” Sensei takes a deep breath and then he smiles at you- this time a bit wry, a little amused. “You’re going to be late for your next class.” Next class? Oh- oh shit! A squeak escapes you and you hurry to gather up all your stuff, shove your books in your arms and race toward the door. “Hey.” You freeze as you grab onto the doorknob and nearly tumble into it, look back toward your sensei. “I want you to call me Natsuo when we’re alone.” He- he what? Oh. Oh. You open your mouth, but the trilling of the bell cuts you off and you’re left only with the time to nod and flush, mumble out a soft, “Yes, sir” before you have to rush out the room. You head toward your next class with weak legs and cheeks red from where your sensei’s tie pulled deep into your skin, hair a mess and your teacher’s- Natsuo’s- cum dripping down your thighs. You smile as you rush off to your next class- happy and fucked, eager to see what Natsuo has in store for you later that night.

Apologize

Summary: Friday nights don’t have to be lame when Katsuki Bakugo is involved.

Content Warnings: Aged up, NSFW, 18+, Fem oral receiving, penetration, slight anal play, slight dacryphilia, slight spit play, choking, AU, Adult Language, Enter at your own risk.

WC: 3.1K

It was a boring Friday night alone. You were lost in one of your many textbooks studying for a big test on Monday when your phone notified that you had a snapchat. Assuming it was from your roommate Mina, who should have been busy with work, you grabbed your phone.

It was from Katsuki Bakugo. You rolled your eyes and threw your phone onto the pillow. Bakugo was your on and off again friend with benefits. On and off meaning you saw him when it was convenient to Bakugo and Bakugo only. Sadly, you came back each time because you genuinely liked the guy...

Plus it was the best sex of your life.

It was an unfortunate situation to say the least. In the moment when you were with him you were satisfied, but as you got back home you craved more. You were both alike in many ways. Rough around the edges, but soft once you opened up. Goal oriented, focused on your schooling and your futures. A fucked up sense of humor that matched toe to toe. You both came to a mutual agreement that you were meant to be friends early on, but lately you longed for more.

The thing about your situationship with Bakugo was on the rocks since he canceled on you a few nights ago to go out with his friends. Granted you didn’t owe each other anything, but canceling last minute really pissed you off.

After a few minutes of pondering about the Snapchat, you went against your better judgement and opened it.

Bakugo: What are you doing?

You sucked your teeth and debated on messaging him back. Tentatively you set your phone down, deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine and leaving him on read. You stuck your nose back in your textbook. About 10 minutes of note taking had passed and your phone had went off again. You glared and looked at the message.

Bakugo: Don’t ignore me shitty woman.

Your body fluttered. The part of your body that did was undetermined though. You scraped your brain of something wity to say back.

Y/N: What do you need? You’re interrupting my hot date.

He responded instantly, almost as if he was awaiting your response.

Bakugo: An actual date or your hand because you know I’m better than both.

You swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of your throat. He wasn’t exactly wrong. Bakugo was far more experienced in the handiwork than you were, but that’s exactly what a vibrator was for. You snapped a picture of the textbook in your lap and captioned it.

Y/N: His name is Pearson’s Guide to Anatomy and we’re madly in love.

At this point you gave up on studying because you were clearly distracted and laid down. Your message sat on delivered for a few minutes before he finally opened it. This time it was a picture. You looked at instantly. He snapped a picture of his roommate Kirishima grinning in front of the stove with a spatula in his hand.

Bakugo: Come eat and before you say no it wasn’t a question.

You fought the battle inside your brain. You were still pretty upset with him, but you hadn’t ate since breakfast so you were hungry. Plus...sex of course. You opted to send him a short message.

Y/N : Gimme 30 minutes asshole.

Bakugo replied with the thumbs up emoji and sent you into action. You had just taken a shower and thankfully something told you to shave your legs. You brushed your teeth quickly and brushed your hair back into a tight pony tail. Everything you needed was already in your purse. A toothbrush, a pair of underwear, deodorant, a few condoms, a charger, and body spray. ( AN: I always recommend keeping a mini spendanight bag in your purse just in case :) )

You spent a few minutes deciding what to wear before putting on a black lace bra and matching underwear. You opted for a pair of black sweats and long sleeve shirt. It was a little chilly out so you threw on a hoodie. Deciding you were finally ready you sent a message to Mina, alerting her of your absence.

Mina: Wear protection! ;) I get off at 2 if you need a ride home.

You laughed at your best friend’s response and began the short walk to Bakugo’s. There was a little bit of day light left so it was easy to navigate through his neighborhood.

Pretty soon you were standing in front of his building. You pressed the buzzer. Kirishima’s sing song voice sounded through the speaker. “Whooooo is it?” Clearly he knew it was you.

“Kiri let me in! I’m freaking freezing.” You whinned.

“That’s not the passworddddd.” He chided, laughing.

“Let her in dumbass.” You heard Bakugo growling in the background.

“Hey!” Kirishima cried and the door buzzed. You rode the elevator up to the third floor. You rasped on the front door. It was opened abruptly by Kirishima who rubbed the back of his head cautiously.

“Let me guess, he smacked you didn’t he?” You pondered and gave him a side hug.

“Yeah and it wasn’t very manly of him either.” He sighed and hugged you back.

“Keep it up and I’ll do it again, Shitty Hair.” Bakugo called from the kitchen. You shook your head and ruffled his hair.

Kirishima grinned and whispered in your ear, “I’m glad your here, he’s been in a mood all day.” You blushed majorly and looked down as he trailed off into the kitchen. It wasn’t a secret to your friend group what you and Bakugo were. Kirishima and Mina had walked in on you two multiple times, but it still wasn’t embarrassing.

You removed your shoes and padded into the kitchen. The aroma of deliciousness hit your nose instantly. Your stomach grumbled. “See I knew you were hungry.” Bakugo said finishing up the stir fry.

Your wrapped your arms around his waist tightly and laid your head on his back. “Shut up and feed me.” You mumbled.

“You want dinner or desert first?” He replied and rubbed your arm as he mixed up the food in the pan.

“Who said you were getting desert?”

“Please guys! Not infront of the stir fry! It’s innocent!” Kirishima groaned and shoved you two out of the way deciding it was done.

You both shot him a glare as he happily loaded his plate up with food. Bakugo fixed your plate and handed it to you. The three of you sat down on the couch in front of the tv. Kirishima put on a series he just started. You began to chatter about the show in between bites. Pretty soon you were done eating and he gave you a synopsis. Bakugo took your plates to the kitchen.

“Hold on wait, so wait. If he’s an international criminal why did he just turn himself in like that to help the agent?” You questioned, clearly enthralled by the show.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out! There’s literally 7 seasons of this! I need answers.” Kirishima agreed.

“Bro what if that’s his like secretly his daughter? Like it makes sense why he’s so connected to her and protects her.” You said excitedly, slapping his leg.

“Dude. That actually makes hella sense.” He replied. Bakugo quietly sat down next to you and began to stroke your lower back, signaling it was time to retreat to his bedroom. You looked up at him with pleading eyes to finish the episode. He rolled his eyes and moved his hand to the back of the couch.

Pretty soon the credits rolled at the end of the episode. “I’m going to bed.” Bakugo announced and stood up.

“Ugh, lame.” Kirishima huffed. Bakugo walked into his bedroom without a word, leaving you two on the couch. You both looked at each other and shrugged.

“I’m definitely going to start watching whenever I get home. Text me about it tomorrow yeah?” You asked making your way to the room.

“For sure!” He called after you as you shut the door. You set your bag down next to the bed and sat down to check your phone. You heard the sink running and then the bathroom door opened revealing a shirtless Bakugo. Grey sweatpants hung off of his hips.

You licked your lips slightly as he turned off the lights and slinked to the bed. A candle faintly flicked in the corner, giving a slight orange glow to the room. “Damn that was like pulling teeth, Y/N” he said and laid down next to you.

“What? You weren’t interested in the show? It was good.” You replied, feeling your pulse quicken as he looked up at you through his lashes.

“I’ve been interested in something else for the past hour.” Bakugo sighed and wrapped his strong arm around your waist, pulling you towards him.

“And what would that be exactly?” You questioned and leaned back into the pillows. He quickly moved ontop of you and hovered over your lips.

“Getting inbetween your thighs.” He whispered. You sucked in a breath before his lips landed on yours. It was slow at first. Sweet closed mouth kisses turned into a passionate tongues mingling together. One of your hands began to run its way through his hair while the other traced the expanse of his bare back.

He groaned into your mouth and you pulled his hair lightly. His hand caressed up your neck until it grabbed your jaw holding you in place. Bakugo began to slowly grind against your sweet spot. Causing you to grow wetter than you already were. His freehand began to explore your body, running along your stomach and up to your bra.

Moans escaped as he began to stroke your nipple through the fabric. He lifted you up from the bed and removed your hoodie and shirt in a swift motion, throwing it somewhere off the bed. You weren’t too concerned at the moment of the location. The hand that gripped your jaw made its way down to your neck as he delicately squeezed the side of your throat.

He kissed down your neck until he made it to the area were your breast pooled ontop of your bra. He began to suck on the revealed flesh before pulling it down to free them. “You’ve got such nice tits, babygirl.” Bakugo growled and took a nipple into his mouth.

You mewled at the praise. He began to nip and suck at it, making sure to tweak and pinch the other in the same fashion. You bucked your hips to meet his, adding more friction to the equation. A few moments passed before he began trail down to the hem of your sweatpants.

Bakugo worked diligently sliding them down your legs before laying in between your thighs. You locked eyes as he started to speak, completely in a trance. “Allow me to formally apologize for canceling on you before.” You nodded slowly. He smiled devilishly and kissed your inner thighs.

The teasing was unreal. It made you so hot that you knew your panties were soaked. He planted a light kiss to your clothed clit. Using his index finger he stroked your pussy vertically with the tip. “You smell so good, Y/N. I can’t wait to taste you.” Bakugo growled. He pulled your panties to the side and slipped the finger in. You instantly clenched around him as he began to pump the tip teasingly.

You were a mess. The strokes were torchous, your mind swirled. “Look at you, grabbing my fucking finger and it’s barely even there.” You loved how vocal he was. He slowly pulled his digit out before entering it again, this time deeper inside you. Your juices cascaded down his hand.

“Shit.” Bakugo cursed and tore your underwear off. You were much too distracted to even worry about your thong being shredded. He added a second finger into the mix. He curled them up inside you, finding the spongy spot that sent you crazy.

Removing his fingers he held them up to the light, entranced by the stringy substance that coated them. “Open your mouth.” He demanded. You did as you were told, no questions asked. Bakugo inserted the two into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around and inbetween then, collecting your slick. He groaned as you sucked and bit down.

His mouth attacked your clit promptly. It was a relief you craved. There was no kitten licks about it. His tongue did figure 8’s around your cunt. You were a moaning mess, saying his name without a care in the world that Kirishima could hear you. Then he did something foreign that you never experienced before. His tongue trailed down your pussy until it found your tight, puckered hole.

You weren’t quite sure what was going on, but in the moment it didn’t matter. Bakugo had your trust completely and he knew it. He didn’t go too far though, just kissing and licking it slightly before focusing his attention back on your throbbing pussy. He plunged the two fingers into your hole again, but this time he fucked it.

The lewd sounds that came from your cunt were enough to make you blush. His free hand flew up to your pelvis and began to gently press down causing pressure. “You hear how loud your cunt is babygirl? You sound like your enjoying it.” Bakugo called. He bit down harshly on your thigh.

“Please Bakugo, please fuck me.” You begged, wrapping your leg around his shoulder.

“That’s not what you should call me Y/N. What’s my name?” He slowed down his pumps, but kept the pressure, making the pleasure the same level of intensity as before.

“Katsuki please!” You cried out. He grinned as you.

“I’m sorry Y/N, but I’m not done apologizing yet.” You threw your head back against the pillows as his mouth attacked you once more. His pace began to speed up again. You felt his fingers scissoring inside of you. Your release barreled towards you.

“I’m about to cum.” You whimpered, pushing his head closer to your cunt. His fingers pumped faster than before, hitting your g-spot every time. Your orgasm washed over you promptly as you moaned his name. Your once rigid body melted against the bed. You felt Bakugo climb up your body.

He grabbed your face and made you open your mouth. He spit the saliva and cum mixed fluid into your mouth before running his hand over your breasts again. You were putty and under his mercy.

“Still want me to fuck your brains out?” Bakugo questioned as he stroked himself through his sweats.

“Please.” You breathed out. He chuckled and stood up, removing his pants. His dick sprang free and slapped against his stomach. Precum pooled around the tip. He pulled a condom out of the drawer on the bed side table.

He noticed you staring at him, “See something you like?” Bakugo questioned as he rolled the condom onto his cock. You nodded sheepishly and spread your legs. He shook his head and then nestled inbetween your legs again as he kissed your lips sweetly. He began to rub the tip against your sensitivity, making you jump at the sensation.

“I’ll go slow this time, I promise.” Bakugo kissed your forehead and gently pressed into you, giving you inch by inch. You both hissed until he sank himself fully in your heat. “Shit, you’re always so tight for me baby.” He moaned rested his head on yours.

He began to thrust slowly allowing you to adjust to the pain. Bakugo was not small in the slightest, so you were grateful at the pace he set. He buried his head into your shoulder as profanities escaped his lips. “Fuck, Katsuki. You fill me up so good.” You moaned, scratching his back lightly.

This encouraged him to increase his speed, grinding his hips into yours until he filled you to the hilt. “You are mine. You’ll always fucking be mine Y/N.” He growled, nipping at your collarbone. The declaration made your heart soar, but it also gave you a sinking feeling in the back of your mind.

Bakugo threw your legs over his shoulders as he drilled deep into you. You felt tears prick in your eyes at the sensation as another orgasm began to build. He grasped your face, “Look me in the eyes when you cum because I know you’re close.” You nodded quickly. Tears flowed freely as your mouth hung open. The next orgasm hit you like a brick wall. You were pretty sure you screamed his name that time, but you couldn’t be too sure.

Once your body calmed down Bakugo pulled out, flipped you over onto your stomach and pulled your ass into the air. He slammed back into you. You attempted to jerk forward, but he gripped your hips tight. A loud smack landing against your ass for trying to run away.

You felt his warm saliva drip down to your puckered hole before he used his thumb to swirl it around. Unintentionally, you jerked again. He paused his actions. “You trust me right?” Bakugo panted and rubbed your cheek delicately.

“Yes, of course.” You whinned at the loss of rhythm. Another slap landed on you cheek.

“Okay, run away again,” he stated, “I’m fucking your ass.” That caused you to remain absolutely still. Granted after the experience before you didn’t mind the thought of it, but you we’re too spent for that tonight and you knew Katsuki Bakugo would make good on his promise. He began fucking you again, this time not as rough. He repeated his actions from earlier and teased your ass again before gently pressing his thumb in your tight rear.

You were grateful that you could shove your head into the pillow because the noises that came from you would have woken up the whole building. You mentally reminded yourself to apologize to Kirishima tomorrow. “Shit, I’m really fucking close babygirl.”

“Please Katsuki, please come inside of me.” You moaned, egging him on. That was all it took. His once steady, prominent strokes turned into sloppy thrusts as he filled the condom. Once he steadied, he removed himself as you collapsed. Bakugo rolled the condom off and threw it into the trash before falling in next to you.

You were both panting messes. Once you caught your breath you glanced over at him. “Apology accepted.”

“Shut up, shitty woman.” Bakugo laughed and kissed you cheek.

Can I Call You Sir? / Nanami Kento x Fem Reader

--“And if I did? It’s only proved what I thought to be true all along. You’re a little degenerate, like me. I just wanted to test you, to know if you wanted what I wanted. Seems like you do, so tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you’re leaving, I’ll let you. I’m not going to force you to do anything, I respect your boundaries, and I respect that this is wrong. It just, feels so right. So deny it.”--

Fucking bullshit.

You stare at the graded paper before you and seethe from the inside out. An F? A fail?! But you’d studied relentlessly! The only thought you were having was how your mother was going to kill you when she finds out, you can practically hear her shrieking, “I’m paying heaps of money to put you through university and this is what you have to show for it?

Professor Nanami is writing something that looks vaguely recognizable on the chalk board, his tall but slim body looking oddly out of place at the front of the long classroom as you glare holes into the back of his blue shirt. There wasn’t a single person you hated more than him in this never-ending moment. You yawn and allow your head to fall heavy onto your crossed arms, hiding your shameful test results. You could listen to Professor Nanami with your eyes closed based solely on the fact that you would be failing the rest of this term if your test results were anything to go by.

The rest of the lesson passes quickly as you fall victim to maladaptive daydreams, playing out every single scenario where you approach Professor Nanami and question his harsh grading. You aren’t a stupid girl, in fact, in every other class you were smashing your target or hitting above. What was this mans problem? You imagine slamming your paper down in front of him, arms crossed and little foot tapping the floor. “Do you hate me?”, “So you have favourites?”, or just a plain “what the fuck?!” were among the favourites you’d rehearsed. His face was cold as stone as he stared back before licking his lower lip and smirking, pulling his glasses atop his head, causing a pretty ripple in his hair as he stands absolutely towering over you. A large thumb lifts your chin to look at him as his eyes bore into you. Then his lips are on yours.

Wait what?

What?

You’re roughly pulled from your daydream by your hair as a pair of polished brown shoes stand at the foot of your worn school desk and a voice beckons your name. Professor Nanami is stood less than a foot in front of you waiting for an explanation. You shoot bolt upright in the uncomfortable wooden chair as your entire body feels like its been zapped by an electric fence. You can feel the blush in your face spreading to your ears as you push the strange daydream to the back of your degenerate mind.

“Sleeping through my lectures will not help you fix that broken grade, Miss Reader. Do you understand me? Or do I need to put it more plainly? It can’t be easy with a simple mind like yours, but I’m sure we could find a way to help you absorb what I’m saying.” His eyes are cold as steel and boring into your soul, he doesn’t even blink, he’s like a robot. You hold his gaze before risking a look around the classroom revealing that it is completely empty, not a soul to be seen, brilliant. So not only had you failed your test but you’d also voluntarily agreed to extracurricular activities whilst daydreaming about kissing your Professor, it sure was a great day to be you.

You panic, how were you going to salvage this? You needed to think quickly, but nothing was springing to mind.

Clearing your throat and calming your nerves you begin, “sorry Professor I didn’t get much sleep last night, I have a lot going on at home so am finding it difficult to participate in classes at the moment.”

You are?

He lets out a small snort as he sits at the edge of your desk, peering down at you through his glasses, a look of judgement plasters his incredibly chiselled facial features, he is beautiful, and you’re happy to admit that, whether or not it could get you in trouble.

What?

“Your lies won’t cut it here, you’re excelling in all your other classes, algebra, languages and biology. These are not easy subjects and geography is a breeze in comparison, so why are you failing? Are you doing it on purpose?” Your attention is drawn to his strong throat and his Adams apple lifts and falls again as he swallows and you wonder if he is anxious about approaching you, not that he has any reason to be.

You feel anger bubble in your throat as you argue back, “I’m not a liar. I’m having trouble concentrating here. Your teaching, the class size, the fact the class is the last of the day, maybe you’re grading me too harshly! Have you considered that? Nobody else failed, so why did I?!” Your voice is shaking now and your knuckles are white as you push your nails into your palms, drawing blood. Professor Nanami looks at you for a moment before standing and heading back to his desk at the front of the class where he picks up a piece of chalk and some papers and begins to write.

“Question one is on plate tectonics, lets begin there. Would you care to explain the theory to me?” He turns and gives you a weirdly friendly smile, you calm your nerves and take a breath, opening your paper and looking at your answer, you read out the sentences you had written and cringe as you allow Professor Nanami to correct you, taking notes on his tutoring. Your personal four o’clock class finishes at just past seven as you both wrap up the test paper and Nanami wipes the board clean.

“In future Miss Reader, you come to me when you need help. You’re a smart young lady really, you know that, so put your brain to use. You’re going to do great things after your course is up so don’t discredit yourself over one failed paper.” He sits at his desk and waves his hand to dismiss you. “You’d better go now, I’m sure you have a worried boyfriend wondering where you’ve gotten to so late in the evening.” He pushes his glasses onto the top of his head, much like in your daydream, and you appreciate how good he looks for a moment. He’s aged yes, around thirty yes, but still gorgeous. You know the girls at University fawn over him, fighting to get even a slither of attention, and here you were, in a private tutoring session of your own, and without even meaning to.

You ponder the boyfriend comment before packing up and heading for the exit, deciding to test the waters you address him, “I don’t have a boyfriend Professor you see I simply don’t have time, and anyway, none of the boys here are mature enough to interest me.” You turn and give him a smile as you catch his gaze flitting up from where your stockings meet the fat of your thighs, you roll your eyes at him and shake your head as you sigh and leave for the night.

This was an interesting development.

-

Sleep washes over you as you awaken in your dream. Professor Nanami is sitting before you, he beckons for you to sit on his lap, you oblige and as you nestle against his chest, his fingers find the edge of your stocking, he traces lazy patterns on your thigh, eliciting a small sigh of pleasure from you. He nuzzles his nose against your cheek and plants a soft kiss against your neck, he pushes your soft hair behind your ear and begins to litter kisses on your sensitive lobe.

“Sweet thing, you smell heavenly, I just want to devour you.” He whispers. You throw your head back and invite him to suck and nip at your exposed throat, completely vulnerable in his arms you entrust him with your entirety. He groans as you manoeuvre your little waist to create friction with the fat of your ass and you’re met with the impossible hardness between his legs, this moment between the two of you feels like fireworks, everything is at a standstill and there is nothing but your two bodies, completely entwined, obsessed with each other’s perfect anatomy. You continue to explore each other physically as you mewl and sigh rhythmically, nothing has ever felt better than your Professors loving touch on your absolute innocence. You’d been with boys yes, but never a man like Nanami.

“Nanamin,” you cry out as he finds the hotness between your legs.

“Sweet girl, I’ll take the best care of you, just relax.” he speaks like sweet poetry from his mouth that tastes like the most expensive organic honey. Your breath hitches as he starts to disappear, you reach out but he is no longer there.

-

You jolt awake as you feel wetness pooling between your legs, the hotness and lack of friction so unbearable you are torn from the dream of all dreams.

Fuck, this is weird now.

Daydreaming about your Professor wouldn’t be the worst thing if you weren’t now absolutely sopping wet and grinding against your own mattress. You dare to slip a tiny hand under the waistband of your pants and give a little release to yourself, it felt unreal, and without realizing you were picturing him as you drive yourself to the edge and jump off head first. You’re picturing his pretty features and strong hands, his soft lips and authoritarian stare. In your head he’s praising you, “sweet thing, sweet girl” he says. You shudder as you come down from the satiating high and allow shame to encase you completely, rolling over, you stare at the screen of your phone.

5:38. A notification flashes from last night.

baby nobara: maps said you left uni at 7! wtf were u doing?? ps, shopping tmorrow?

You open the notification and type a quick reply.

you: was just studying, nothing important hahahah. sure! meet me at 11?

With that, you roll back over and let sleep nestle you gently between her arms.

-

It’s twenty minutes after your planned meet time that Nobara turns up, and holding a Krispy Kreme bag full of donuts and a doc marten tote housing at least one new pair of shoes, she’d obviously done a pre-shop, not that it was particularly out of character for her. Her gentle face is plastered with a mischievous grin as she runs and embraces you like two sisters might embrace after a long time away from each other’s presence

“I had to warm up before we got started!” she laughs at you, and all is forgiven in a matter of seconds. You’re both giggling as she opens the bag and makes you a peace offering of a strawberry donut, you eagerly accept as you discuss what shops you want to hit up today. You both spend hours browsing, trying on and chatting about everything, you don’t get to see Nobara often as you have alternating days on campus and your schedules clash horribly so the times you do spend together are cram packed full of mischief.

You’re walking past a load of stores as you approach Victoria's Secret and you immediately flash back to Professor Nanamis eyes on your stockings last night and his comment about your supposed boyfriend. Cogs are turning in your mind but before you have time to make the connection, you’re being dragged in, you have no objections and are pleasantly surprised by the variety of lingerie this particular chain of store holds. You pick out a few different numbers including a black corset body suit and a matching garter with stockings, you knew the reason for picking it out was completely inappropriate but it didn’t stop you from taking it to the counter and paying nearly 100 dollars for it. You grinned as you schemed yet another daydream waiting for your friend to decide on the bits she wanted.

You both decide on a little sushi place for lunch and as you fill your mouth with miso Nobara asks, “Who are you fucking? It has to be someone at university, that’s why you stayed so late, right?” The question completely winds you as you try not to choke on your food. Your eyes are watering as you try to explain that it was just extra-curricular studies. Nobara nods and rolls her eyes, “You don’t have to lie to me, I’ll find out sure enough.” She laughs as you pray she lets this go, shovelling some nigiri into her mouth she waves you off. “Chill,” she says as you allow your heart to slow in your chest.

You give her a hug as you finally part ways and she ruffles your hair, “See you around”, and with that she’s gone. You begin the walk home as you reflect on the events of today, you reel as you come to the realization you spent 100 dollars on a lingerie set for a man over ten years your senior who would less than likely ever find out you’d bought it. Unless.

No.

You shake the thought of trying to bait your own Professor after barely scraping by the last term, expulsion for indecent behaviour seems somewhat worse, at least you think. It also doesn’t seem good for Nobara to now suspect you have something going on with somebody, she has to know all the top gossip and you don’t doubt she will find a way. Now that you think about it, you should turn your phone location off. You know your friend would stalk you for the sake of some scandalous news she can tease you about. You giggle to yourself, you and Professor Nanami, what a thought.

-

The bell rings as you finish washing your hands, you stopped to use the bathroom before your final class of the day, Geography. You’d been anticipating this class, having chosen the black corset body suit with stockings to match, you’d paired it with a mid-length black satin skirt and an oversized cardigan, it was enough to feel comfortable in, and not break any regulations but enough for Professor Nanami to notice, which was just perfect. You wanted to test the waters after his comment and wandering eyes, you’d had time to stew over your awful test results and were wondering if maybe he was a little harsh with the grading. Either way, today would tell.

You hurry up the stairs and down the long corridor to the classroom where he lectures, there were around 30 students already settled in class and you could see your Professor writing on the board. You slip in quietly and take your seat at the back of the class, you shed your cardigan, giving a frontal view of your chest and begin to take notes. You ensure you pay full attention to todays class, not taking your eyes off the man at the front of your lecture room. You meet his gaze a few times and you sense him trying really hard to not allow his eager eyes to flit downwards, you wish for him to give you anything more than a feeling to go off of but he’s stone cold and hard as steel. As the class draws to an end Nanami dismisses the students and you wait until the room has emptied before you walk towards his desk. You wait for him to address you.

“Miss Reader, can I help you with something?” he doesn’t meet your gaze and instead continues typing something on his keyboard, you’re frustrated with how nonchalant he’s being, how you’ve probably misread the entire encounter, how you’ve created a whole reality from nothing.

“I, I was hoping maybe you would assist me with some questions I have from the class today Sir, if you have time of course.” If he wanted to play games, he would get games, you might be younger than him but you’re not stupid.

“That’s okay, you’ll have to give me ten minutes whilst I finish this email, then I’m all yours. Feel free to take a seat.” He motions for the first desk in the front row and you roll your eyes as you decide to make a stand. You pull a chair from the side of the room to Nanamis desk and sit directly opposite him, you take out your textbooks and begin to lay them out on the space behind his computer, sitting down you cross your legs, brushing his shin with your shoe. You’re sure you see his jaw tighten, but he plays it off by cracking his neck, the loud crunch distracts from the tension filled silence and you lick your bottom lip in anticipation.

He finishes with his email and pushes the computer screen to the side of his desk then leans back in his chair and loosens his tie slightly, he catches you watching the space above where his shirt is buttoned and smirks, “So what questions do you have sweet girl?”, it’s an innocent enough question but you’re walking a fine line and need to be careful. You make idle small talk about today’s class for an hour or so before asking your Professor to quiz you, it’s a shot in the dark but you’re hoping he will catch on.

“I’ve been revising, ask me any twenty questions, if I get them right you can pass me for that test!” you grin, proud of the compromise you’d come up with.

“It’s a good idea, but what if you get questions wrong? Does the fail still stand?” he laughs quietly, like he made a personal joke that only he understood, he allowed his eyes to trail down to the black floral lace encasing your chest, it wasn’t overly provocative (you were in university after all) but it was enough to make his mind wander. You test the waters again, trailing a finger over the top of the hem, outlining the soft of your breasts, Nanami shuffles in his seat and adjusts his legs, brilliant.

You allow your Professor to test you, answering all questions and waiting for each correct answer like a patient puppy, sitting for its master. At the end of the test you grin, over the moon with yourself for showing him you deserve a passing mark.

“I told you! I told you I shouldn’t have failed. You were definitely marking me too harshly!” You brush your leg against his again, and he doesn’t make an effort to move himself, he drinks you in through the round frames of his glasses that are sitting pretty on the top of his nose.

“Sweet girl, I never thought you were stupid, in fact, I think you’re rather smart. So tell me, why are you really here right now?” He sits forward in his chair and leans across his desk, towards you. Your faces are so close that you can feel his warm and tempting breath on your lips, your eyes close of their own accord and you lean in. He teases you with soft pecks and you fight back, bringing a hand to his chin but he beats you to it. Your hand completely drowned by his own, the sheer size difference a shock to your system, he holds your hand against his desk where your forgotten papers sit. With his other hand he brings his thumb just below your chin and lifts your face so your eyes can meet his, “Is this what you wanted all along? To kiss your Professor? Is this what your little get up today is about? You thought I wouldn’t notice the pretty lace? Do you know how good you look?” His rhetoric questions causing your heart to beat a hole in your chest you inhale sharply, trying to take control of your breathing once again.

“You failed me on purpose.” It’s slipped out before you have time to consider what you’re saying.

What?!

“And if I did? It’s only proved what I thought to be true all along. You’re a little degenerate, like me. I just wanted to test you, to know if you wanted what I wanted. Seems like you do, so tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you’re leaving, I’ll let you. I’m not going to force you to do anything, I respect your boundaries, and I respect that this is wrong. It just, feels so right. So deny it.”

A grown man, your professor nonetheless, sits before you in what feels like a dream, asking for you to stop this.

So stop it.

You take your free hand and pull his face into yours, you’re kissing again, this time with more desperation. It was like you were parched, and Nanami was a stream of fresh water, you couldn’t get enough, and it was like your entire life depended on it. His desk was the only thing stopping you from jumping across and allowing him to devour you whole, you thought about straddling his lap and allowing him to grab the soft fat of your ass. Not yet.

You pull away from the kiss and stand, looking at the man before you, his tie completely loose, a few strands of hair falling on his forehead allowing him to look dishevelled, his glasses slightly steamed up. He was a sight to behold and your heart was beating to within an inch of your life with the idea that you had caused it. Internally you were screaming, DON’T FUCKING STOP. But you had to, had to make sure this wouldn’t be a mistake. You leaned across the desk and picked his glasses off of his nose, placing them on your own and pulling them up, to push the hair off of your face. He looked puzzled and opened his mouth to say something but you interrupted him.

“It seems I have forgotten something, looks like I’ll have to come back to get it tomorrow, what a shame.” And with that, you shot him a grin, turned on your heels, and left. Nanami sat staring at the door in utter shock and awe as you stalked out. He quickly fixed himself up sans glasses and packed up for the day, he muttered something about teaching you a lesson, and spare frames before he left, allowing the leftover tension to dissolve.

Imagine giving Clair a break from work

Word Count: 1,389

Notes: Nsfw warning for this, 18+ only. I've been wanting to write for Clair for awhile and I feel kindaaa bad the first thing I write for her is shameless smut but not too bad XD also HUGE thanks to my friend @sapphichellie for drafting the first half of this otherwise there prolly would've been like 2k words of emotional buildup before anything actually happened and I prolly wouldn't have finished the spicy part.

Okiedokie here it is

****

You open the door to the study slowly, a bowl of fresh strawberries in your hand. Clair is sitting in the chair at her desk. It's littered with sheets of paper, preserved bug samples, and books opened up to diagrams and thesis on things like insect anatomy and species differentiation. She's pouring over one such book now, and you can tell by the furrow of her brow that she's completely engrossed in what she's doing.

"Hi, baby." You say softly. "I brought you a snack."

She smiles and hums her thanks, not tearing her eyes away from the book. You move further into the room.

"Can't you take a small break?" You ask, finding a space for the bowl amid the clutter and planting yourself on the footstool next to her.

"No, sorry darling. I've got to finish this, no time for breaks..." She trails off, speaking in that airy, distracted tone she always gets when she's focused on a project.

"But don't you want some strawberries?" You ask. "They're fresh from the garden, I just picked them."

She still doesn't look up, even when you lightly nudge the bowl towards her.

"Mmh, maybe later..." She adjusts her glasses and scribbles a note in the journal she has laying next to the book.

In all honesty, you didn't come just to bother her with strawberries. For the past few weeks she's been working late every night, often only leaving her study and collapsing into bed next to you when she could no longer write a coherent sentence. You missed spending time with her, and she deserved a chance to relax.

And you had something in mind she hadn't received for awhile.

You get up from the stool and move behind her, working your fingers into her shoulders. You're surprised at how tense they are - must be the result of sitting hunched over a desk for so long - and as her muscles slowly loosen under your touch, accompanied by a pleased groan from her, you start removing the light yellow cardigan she's wearing, gently tossing it to the side.

You notice she's wearing one of your favorite sundresses of hers, and you start peppering soft kisses across her shoulders, running one of your hands down her body to her thigh and rubbing slowly while the other still massages her shoulder.

"Clair, please come to bed. I've missed you." You move your kisses up to her neck, now sucking slightly.

She only hesitates for a moment before protesting. "Really, baby, I've got to get this done." She moves her shoulder up to block you and brushes your hands away.

You scoff, offended that she would choose her work over you. You have one last thing to try, the only way of getting her attention at this point. You're sure it will work, it never failed to make her melt in your hands.

You drop to your knees, moving under the table to where her legs were. Grabbing her by the knees, you push her legs apart.

"Baby, what are you doing?" She says, leaning away from the desk to look down at you. You move your hand under her dress and start rubbing the outside of her underwear, biting your lip and looking up at her through your lashes for the full effect. She moans softly, gripping the desk and rising her hips to your touch.

"Just let me take care of you, Clair." You hook your fingers into the hem of her underwear, pulling them down, and she lifts her hips to help you. Then you grab her and pull her to the edge of the seat, your intentions now clear as your breath graces her core. She's not wet yet, but you can tell how badly she wants you by the way she spreads her legs a little wider, her breathing uneven.

You place a feather light kiss on the sensitive skin where her thigh joins her body. "Do you remember the last time I touched you like this?" You murmur.

"Mhm. Last... last month."

"Last month." You repeat. "Such a long time." You let your lips barely brush her folds as you move to kiss the same place on the other side. "But you remember how good it felt, don't you?"

You receive a jerky nod in response, and she moves one of her hands down to lace her fingers with yours.

"Do you remember the way you turned to putty in my hands? How relaxed you were?" You ask as you press kisses along the line of her lips, purposely not spreading them apart just yet. "I wanna make you feel like that again, Clair."

You finally use your tongue to spread her lips apart, licking from the base of her entrance to the tip of her clit. The motion is slow and possessive, your tongue pressed flat and firm against her. Her fingers tighten around yours and her hips buck up as she lets out a noise of pleasure somewhere between a whimper and a moan. You did the same thing again, this time letting your tongue flick teasingly inside her entrance.

"Oh, please." She moans, burying her other hand in your hair and pulling you closer. Her nails scrape the back of your scalp slightly, sending tingles erupting down your spine.

"Mm... please what?" You ask, going back to kissing the now exposed pink flesh.

"Your-your tongue. Inside me, please, baby."

Her begging makes heat rush to your stomach, and you press one more soft kiss to her clit before dipping your tongue completely inside her, swirling it around. The taste of her explodes in your mouth, sweet and warm, and you feel her thighs tense under your fingers as she clenches around you, letting out a sigh of relief. You begin pumping your tongue in and out and she falls back against the chair, eyes closed in pleasure.

"Look at me, honey." You say, removing your tongue to swirl it around her clit. Her eyes snap open and she gazes down at you, hips bucking into your mouth. The look of pure pleasure on her face makes the heat in your stomach even more intense, turning to a hot coil, and you continue alternating between her clit and fucking her with your tongue, wanting to make the pleasure as sweet and slow as you can. She whines and squirms in your grasp, her pants and whimpers of your name egging you on. Every time she closes her eyes you dig your nails slightly into the soft skin on the inside of her thighs, reminding her to keep looking at you. Her small thrusts become strong, then messy as she gets closer to her orgasm.

"I'm about to... come.." She finally gasps out, wrapping her legs around you. Her heels dig into the small of your back. You only hum in response, the vibration sending a shudder through her body.

You feel it the moment her orgasm washes over her, in the way she clenches around your tongue as her juices flow into your mouth. Her hand untangles itself from yours, joining the other in your hair to press you harder against her while her hips rut into your face, her thighs spasming as you keep them forced open. Her moans of bliss are music to your ears, sending waves of pleasure through you while she rides out her orgasm.

When its over, you keep dragging your tongue through her folds, wanting to get every last drop of her arousal before she pushes you away from the over stimulation. Then you climb up into the chair, straddling her and capturing her in a deep kiss before either of you could catch your breath.

You pull away, taking in her post-orgasmic appearance. Her face and chest are flushed pink, her glasses are a little askew and she's panting slightly, her chest rising and falling with the motion. You fix her glasses and run your thumbs soothingly over her cheeks.

"How was it?" You ask.

"I may have to take breaks a little more often." She says breathlessly. You laugh and kiss her again.

"Will you please come to bed, now?" You murmur against her lips. At her nod, you take her hand and lead her to the bedroom where you two spend the rest of the night.

****

I’m not putting a tag list this time coz i dont wanna accidentally tag someone underage.

Doctor Doctor

Summary: With a bullet in his arm, Bucky seeks medical attention and a certain surgeon catches his eye. 

Warnings: non-con, gun play (gun fucking), biker!Bucky, minor descriptions of blood and bullet wounds. 

Word Count: 3k

AN: This was written for the incredible and lovely @the-soulofdevil​ and her 500 follower writing challenge. Congrats gurl, I’m so proud. My prompt was a doctor au. Also, I’ve been watching wayyyyy to much Grey’s Anatomy, pls help me. 

Squares Filled: Biker!AU & Knife/Gun play

My Masterlist 

Exhaustion held your body captive as you dragged your feet, your eyes fluttering shut every few steps. Your entire body was sore, your neck cricked from looking down at the body on your operating table for so long and your hands were slightly cramping. The CABG surgery had taken far longer than you had expected, and now nothing was sounding better than going home, opening a bottle of sauvignon blanc and taking a long hot bath. 

You eyes the door for the stairs disdainfully. Deep down you knew you should take them. The attendings lounge was only two floors up but you were dead tired so instead, you plodded along to the elevator, jabbing the up button. Looking back on it you really should have taken the stairs.

The elevator finally dinged on your floor, the doors opening slowly and without even looking, you jumped inside. You only noticed the other occupant after the doors had slid closed. He was tall, impressively built, and his eyes were a stunning shade of cerulean blue. You hated yourself for wondering briefly if he was here visiting a girlfriend. 

However you could tell there was something off about him but, maybe that’s what attracted you. You had always had terrible taste in men. You could feel his body come closer, invading your personal space. A hand reached out to your name tag, his eyes flickering over it. 

‘A surgeon huh? So I guess you know your way around the body.’ 

‘Excuse me?’ The words were barely out of your mouth before he reached into the waist bands of his jeans, pulling a gun from it with one hand, his other pressing the shutdown button on the elevator panel.

‘I need you to do me a favour Doc. I need you to get this bullet out of my arm.’ You stared down the barrel of his glock, your mouth going dry as he continued to speak. ‘Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to press the start button and then the elevator doors will open. You’ll take me somewhere private and you’ll quietly and stealthily get whatever you need to get the fuckin’ bullet out of me. If you even think about calling for help I will blow the brains out of whoever is around. Clear?’ Your heart thudded like a hummingbird’s wings and the turtleneck underneath your scrubs felt far too tight around your throat. 

‘I said. Are we clear?’ He pressed the gun directly between your eyes, forcing the cool metal against your heated skin and you nodded. 

‘Yes.’ You barely managed to squeak out your assent.

‘Sir.’ He added for emphasis. 

‘Yes Sir. I understand.’ 

‘Good girl. Are you ready? And remember, if anyone dies, it’s your fault.’ You nodded once more and watched as he pressed the green start button, the elevator coming back to life. He stowed his gun back into the waistband of his jeans, sending you a look that clearly said he could whip it back out faster than you could scream. But his look was unneeded. You weren’t going to call for help. The people that worked at this hospital were like your family. There was no way you were going to risk any of their lives.

You lead him through various hallways, picking up an abandoned supply trolley as you went until you came across an empty patient room. You gestured for him to sit on the bed as you pulled on a gown and gloves before wheeling the stool over and sitting in front of him. 

He grunted in pain as he pulled his leather jacket off, his t-shirt following soon after. Under normal circumstances you would have cut the material away but seeing him in pain gave you a sick sense of glee. But as you stared at his now bare chest, any sense of joy quickly seeped from you, dread taking its place. It shouldn’t have been as much of a shock as it was to see the pitch black ink staring back at you. He had waved a gun in your face for crying out loud. But still, seeing the dark outline of a wolf on his chest sent a chill through you. Of course this man was a White Wolf. 

‘Scared of a little ink doc?’ The man before you teased a smirk taking over his plush pink lips.

‘Of course not Sir.’ You quipped back. It was only half a lie. You weren’t afraid of the tattoo itself, more of what it represented. You had seen far too many victims of the White Wolves over your time working at Seattle Grace Hospital. ‘I’m going to have to go in blind, I hope that’s okay as I assume you don’t want to be checked in?’ You asked even though you knew the answer you would get. 

‘Obviously.’ His voice was a monotone as he rolled his eyes, your hands sweeping over the blood surrounding the torn skin. The bullet didn’t seem to be too deep which was lucky for him. It would make extraction a lot easier. Once the site was clean you pulled over the IV kit, standing to attach the morphine to the drip before picking up the needle and making for his other arm. ‘No.’ He yanked his arm out of your grip with such force that you stumbled. 

‘Excuse me?’ You were confused as you sat back on the stool, the needle still in your hand. 

‘No drugs. Just get it out now.’ He pulled the needle from you, chucking it across the room as he did so.

‘I’m sorry sir but I have to insist. The drugs will help you stay still through the pain as I extract the bullet.’ No matter how much his pain earlier had helped ease your own you weren’t a sadist. 

‘I said no. I don’t want any drugs, I can handle the pain. Just get the fucking bullet out now.’ He growled and you submitted, scared that the commotion might attract unwanted visitors. Quickly you organised your tray and held the tweezers up to the bullet hole. 

To your surprise, the man barely flinched as you pressed the metal against the tender flesh, searching for the bronze bullet that you could barely make out. You had expected him to yield, allowing you to administer the painkillers but he barely reacted, the occasional hiss or grunt escaping his lips was the only sign he felt anything. 

Finally the bullet came free and there was a clink as you disposed of it in one of the metal bowls. Next you started working on patching him up. Some more blood had spilled from the wound as you had worked and he would definitely need stitches. As you worked you heard your parents voices echo around in your head, telling you horror stories of the White Wolves. 

The gang had been haunting Seattle since the early forties and were often used as bedtime stories told to young children to make sure they didn’t stay out too late. While you had taken your parents warnings seriously growing up, you had always thought they exaggerated the cruelty of the gang. Working in the hospital had changed your mind. Their cruelty was unparalleled and perhaps if you weren’t so afraid of what they would do to your family you might have thought about “accidentally” clipping his axillary artery. He would be dead within minutes but you knew the other Wolves would come around sniffing for answers. 

You struggled to keep your hands steady as you worked but finally you did the last stitch and bandaged his arm. ‘You’re going to have to wear a sling for next 4-6 weeks to make sure it heals properly and isn’t jolted around because you don’t want to be pulling your stitches. Also no strenuous exercise for at least two weeks and after then only light exercise such as going for a walk.’

‘What about fucking?’ Your lips parted involuntarily, shocked at how blatantly he had asked the question.  

‘Erm, well that would count as strenuous exercise but after the two week mark perhaps depending on umm… on how you… on your chosen, erm, position then it should be okay.’ You felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment. You talked about sex and other embarrassing topics all the time in post-care but something about the way his cerulean blue eyes were staring at you so intently had you stumbling over your words like a school girl. 

‘Hmmm… that’s a shame. If I had known this morning was going to be the last time for a while I would have made it something special.’ He mused to himself, his eyes drifting over your dark blue scrubs as you pulled off the gloves and gown. ‘But since I’m here, you could always fix me back up if something happened. Couldn’t you doc?’   

‘Excuse me?’ You asked in confusion, blood draining from your face as he got off the bed and began stalking towards you. You backed away quickly, your hands fumbling with the door as you tried to pull it open only to have his uninjured arm slam it back shut. He twisted your body around so your back was pressed against the wood, both his arms pinning you against the wall as he leaned in. 

‘I think you heard me doc. The same warnings apply. Scream and I’ll kill anyone who walks through that door.’ His breath tasted like cigarettes and his body was hot and hard against you. When you gulped and finally managed a nod, he pulled you from the door, bringing you back over to the bed, forcing you to lean over it. 

He pressed his growing bulge against your ass as he pulled your scrub top over your head, the pale blue turtleneck and your bra following soon after. You squirmed in his arms but despite his injury his grip was steel tight. He groaned against the shell of your ear as he palmed your breasts, kneading them until your nipples began to harden. His breath was hot and heavy against the skin of your neck as his hands moved lower, down to the waistband of your scrubs. He slipped one hand in underneath your panties and groaned out. 

‘Oh Doc, you’re already so wet for me.’ He breathed out and you shuddered against him, trying to squeeze your legs together as tightly as you could. He tutted you, pinching your ass through the scrubs. ‘Behave. You don’t want to know what happens to bad girls.’ You choked back your sob as you nodded and allowed him to push you back against the bed, Your chest resting on the cold sheets. He slipped your scrubs down your legs and continued to play with your clit, rubbing it harshly as you tried to force your body not to react. One hand grabbed both your wrists, pinning them both at the small of your back as he moved.

‘One thing I’ve learnt from girls like you is that you always need something inside of you to feel full don’t you?’ You felt him shift behind you and then suddenly something very cold brushed against your thigh. You struggled in his hold even harder, thrashing your body around the cool metal brushed against your heated lips. You didn’t have to see it to know what it was.

He swirled the barrel around, coating it in the slick that had involuntarily pooled along your lips. ‘No. No! Stop it! Get off of me.’ You tried to buck him off but his grip remained like iron, holding you down against the mattress with one hand as the other eased the barrel inside of you. You thrashed wildly as the cool metal juxtaposed the heat between your legs causing an odd sensation to form. 

You hated the way the edges of the gun moved against your walls, making you feel every tiny ridge in the metal. You hated the way your body was responding to it even more. 

You barely managed to hold back your moans as his pace picked up, becoming unrelenting. The urge to roll your hips back onto him had you shuddering with disgust. Your body shouldn’t be responding like this, it shouldn’t be enjoying it as much as it was. But you couldn’t help it anymore, not when he called you his good girl. Praising you for taking his gun so well. 

The moans started tumbling from your lips and soon enough the coil in your belly had snapped and you pulsated in his arms. Your body convulsed as he slowly edged you down from your high. 

‘See? That wasn’t so bad. I’ve always wanted to have a cunt on the end of my gun.’ You shivered at his words, your senses slowly coming back to you. ‘Here, taste yourself.’ He forced the metal by your face and you wanted to shrink away in disgust, yet the tone of his voice told you that wasn’t an option. Hesitantly, you moved your head towards it, licking a small stripe along the side, praying that was enough to satisfy him. ‘Not like that. Suck it like it's my cock.’ You shuddered and cringing inside, you angled your head to take it like he wanted, terrified that his finger would slip on the trigger. 

You forced yourself to slowly bob your head going up and down the gun’s length, his groans echoing in the room as he rubbed himself against you in time with your movements. Suddenly, the gun was gone and you heard the tell-tale clink of his buckle, the fly of his zipper following. 

‘Please you don’t have to do this. I won’t tell anyone, please.’ You could no longer hold back the tears and they fell onto the mattress beneath you, darkening the white sheets. 

‘I’m sorry Sweetheart, but that’s just not how the White Wolves work. You see, when we see something we want... ’ his face dipped down next to your ear as he whispered into it, ‘we take it.’ And with that he entered you with one long thrust. You cried out at the intrusion. Although you were shamefully wet, you hadn’t been prepared for the sheer size of him. ‘Oh fuck doc. Your pussy’s so fuckin’ tight.’ 

There was no gradual build up. Just straight hard fucking. His balls slapped against your ass as he rutted into you, his pace unforgiving. You screamed out underneath him as you felt one hand wrap around your thigh, circling your already sensitive clit. ‘That’s it sweetheart. That’s such a good girl.’ You moaned as his deep sensual voice penetrated your ears. 

You felt his grip on your hands loosen before it wrapped around your throat, pulling you up against his chest. He felt even deeper like this and your tears ran down your cheeks freely. You hated how every stroke of his cock made you shudder in the best way possible. 

Your hands clutched at his around your throat as black dots started to appear in your vision. Between how breathless you were from the fucking and the crying, it was no surprise that you were struggling to breathe. 

‘C'mon sweetheart. Scream my name for me. Let everyone know who’s fucking this pussy so right.’ He didn’t seem to care that you could barely breathe or that he hadn’t even bothered to give you his name so you choked a meager Sir. He seemed to realise his mistake as he grunted his name into your ear. 

‘Bucky….’ Your voice was hoarse. 

‘Louder.’ He growled and you repeated yourself. ‘Louder baby, louder.’ 

With air you didn’t know you had, you screamed his name for him, the waves of pleasure crashing inside of you reaching their peaks as you did. He groaned into your ear as he kept rutting, riding you out through your orgasm as your body collapsed back on the bed. He thrusted a few more times before hastily pulling out, his seed dripping down onto your ass as he moaned unashamedly. 

‘Well fuck doc. How was that for strenuous  activity?’ You couldn’t respond as he laughed, fabric rustling in the background as he dressed. ‘Didn’t even pull any stitches either.’ He mused to himself and you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Shame washed over you like a tidal wave, pinning you in place. 

You saw him walk around the bed, kneeling down as he came into view. ‘Get dressed.’ His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument, but still, you didn't move. ‘Fine. Stay like that and let the next guy who walks in see your wrecked cunt. Like I give a shit.’ It was only at his brusque words and the reminder that this is in fact your workplace that you finally stood sorely. Your hands reached up to brush away the tears on your cheeks and you see him fiddling with your phone that had been in your pants pockets as you dress. 

‘What are you doing?’ You barely manage to get the words out. 

‘Just getting your number. You never know when having a doctor on call will be handy in my line of work.’ You tried to hide your scoff and failed. 

‘Your line of work? You mean terrorising the streets of Seattle.’ You have no idea where this fire has come from and if you knew better you would have definitely kept your mouth shut.

‘No, I mean running a multi-million dollar enterprise.’ You gulp, swallowing thicky as he stands his chest nearly touching yours. 

‘Running?’ You question, even though you’re not sure you quite want his answer. 

‘Yeah sweetheart. Running.’ His hands lift up and he slides your phone back into your chest pocket. And with a wink sent your way he slips out from the room, leaving you with a sense of dread for the next time your phone will ring. 

+

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My Masterlist

Essays in Existentialism: Boss

Prompt.. Lexa and Clarke sleep together one night, the next morning Clarke comes in to start her new job and turns out Lexa will be her boss (basically how Meredith and Derek first meet in grey's anatomy) yeah cool...love your writing

The tiny townhouse on the corner of Grant and Lincoln was nearly unpacked, but still occupied the unfinished zone of moving in. The furniture was there, with boxes opened and in various states of emptied. Sheets were tossed on the bed, but it wasn’t made. Clothes were rooted through and half hung in the closet at the top of the stairs. The only things in the fridge were little Chinese take out boxes and a handful of sauce packets. 

But that didn’t mean a thing to the bodies on the couch. 

Well tired and sated, the two tangled torsos and limbs hung and clung to each other on the small area, not having much to discuss the night before, but rather making the other body too tired to hear and speak and think, and thus fell asleep in a knot. It wasn’t many hours of sleep between the bar and the sex and the moment one of the bodies shifted and the otehr fell to the floor with a thud. 

“Ow.” 

“What was--”

“Just my back. And hip. And… head,” the body on the floor wheezed slightly, wincing against the pain. 

“Oh shit, it’s daylight,” Clarke squinted toward the windows witn no curtains or blinds and realized how late it was. “Oh fuck!”

“Seems to be.” 

The body on the couch sat up and hopped over the back before snatching the blanket and carefully wrapping it around her naked body. 

“I have to go. I have work...um…”

“Lexa,” she sat up from the floor, propping herself up on her elbows and looking up over the cushions. 

Completely naked, the girl on the floor smiled and pushed away a mess of hair while Clarke looked at her and blushed and tried not to look, desperately. She wanted to look, but that would distract her from the process of getting ready, and Clarke had to get to work. It was her first day, after all, beautiful naked sex god be damned. 

“Right. Lexa. Nice to meet you, but I have to--”

“Yeah, of course,” she nodded, tugging a pillow in front of herself to shield as much nakedness as possible. “Do you live here?” 

“Just moved.” 

“Cool. From where.” 

“I really have to-- It was fun and all--”

A pair of blank panties were held up from the floor by hands attached to a mischievous hand oddly victorious grin. Clarke remembered the same smile somewhere between the whiskey and tequila, the smile nd the eyes and the intent way the stranger in the bar listened to her words. More importantly, she remembered the fragments of the sex and the things that mouth could do and that was the reason for the victory, and it was deserved. 

“But you have to go to work,” Lexa repeated. 

With a graceless motion, Clarke reached over the couch and snatched the offending lingerie before agreeing full-heartedly. 

“It was nice to meet you, Lexa,” Clarke promised. “But when I come back downstairs, you’ll be gone, and I’ll be on my way to work.” 

“Right. Work. I should, too. It was nice, to uh, do this. Maybe we can again--”

The offer was barely acknowledged as Clarke hopped up the stairs and toward the shower, leaving Lexa smiling somewhat, amused at the display before she looked down at herself and chuckled at what the past five minutes of her life looked like. 

XXXXXXXXXX

It was incredibly stupid. It was monumentally stupid. It was the dumbest thing she’d ever done, or at least very close to the top of the long list. But after three weeks of refusing to unpack the house and dealing with the question of employment, Clarke couldn’t handle it any longer, and joined the land of the living again. Perhaps a bit too hard, which was, above all else, stupid. Incredibly stupid. 

Clarke didn’t have too much time to think about anything else as she sprinted into the tall building that had its own distinct imprint on the city. Hair a mess and shirt sloppily in the process of being tucked in, she flashed her badge and rushed toward the elevators as she repeated how stupid it’d been to get absolutely drunk and hook up with a stranger on the couch, and then not setting an alarm, for her first day of her dream job. 

Again and with emphasis, Clarke was an incredibly stupid and gay individual. 

“Ms. Griffin,” the receptionist greeted her with a smile. “I’ve been instructed to ask that you wait right here until Ms. Moore is finished with her phonecall.” 

“Right, of course,” Clarke nodded as she attempted to underplay how extravagantly winded she was. 

Grateful for the moment to process, Clarke took a seat in the reception and processed what the past hour of her life looked like. She somehow woke up and kicked out a very naked woman from her house, that she could almost remember the name of somewhat. And she’d run across town and made it to work. On time, or at least on time enough for her boss. 

Only when she’d caught her breath did Clarke realize that she never got Le-- La-- Lara? Lena? Larry? Fuck. She never got the stranger’s number. 

“Hey, Clarke, thanks for your patience.” 

The woman who interviewed her twice finally walked out from behind the hallowed doors of Woods Publishing, and Clarke gave up trying to remember and prayed she did not smell like as much tequila as she’d inhaled the night before. 

“I’m so happy to be here, Ms. Moore,” she grinned and shook the outstretched hand. 

“Luna is fine. We’re the creatives,” she winked and led Clarke toward the door. “We get a little more freedom than the stuffed shirts in editing and sales.” 

As they moved down the hall, there was a minute smell of weed, and Clarke realized that this job was going to be better than she’d ever imagined. 

“I thought for your first day, I’d kind of get you set up, take you to our morning huddle and pitch meetings, and then after lunch make you meet everyone in a super awkward and invasive department bash.” 

“Bash?” 

“Yeah, well, people stop coming when I call them meetings and ice-breakers. I’ve decided to rename things different, more fun words to trick them into the same meetings.” 

“How’s it going so far?” 

“Amazingly well. Just wait until you see the turn out for your meet-and-greet… I mean bash.” 

Clarke couldn’t help but smile. Her boss was calm and cool, funny and approachable, and most importantly, she was clearly very into her job, which was a godsend. Hiring was often abou personality and camaraderie, as in how well a new personality would fit into a team, and Clarke already felt at home. 

The day went by easily enough, as all first days are known to do. She met her team and got her desk, got to feel out a little of how the day flowed with the promise of her assignments arrival soon enough. Luna passed her off around lunch to one of the teammates, and Clarke fell into enjoying her new coworkers with very light company gossip over not terrible sandwiches in the cafeteria. She learned all about the office romances and the merger, the new corporate structure and how great it was compared to other companies. She learned about the owner’s daughter who started a few months ago and was actually nice to work for, and more importantly, Clarke learned that there was a very lax policy when it came to punctuality. She breathed a sigh of relief. 

By the end of the day, Clarke felt like she would like it there, and was eager to help and work on drawing some of the projects. She was ready to work with the team and she was ready to finally be creative and produce something. 

“Thank you all again, for welcoming Clarke to our team,” Luna grinned and held up her glass as the rest of the team did the same. 

She was right, of course, that calling it a bash did something to make them all want to stay a few minutes later and mingle. 

“Enjoy the gift baskets sent from the studio for our last project, but within reason. And we’ll jump right in tomorrow.” 

“Thanks,” Clarke smiled and accepted a drink. 

“I’ll see you bright and early. We’ll get you started on part of our new programming and onto the new project.” 

“I can’t wait.”

Clarke found herself pulled into a conversation over artwork for the storyboard on the wall in the main rom, and even though it was technically about work, the other artists were more than eager to talk about their plans, even over drinks. 

And then she looked up and nearly spit out her drink before turning around very quickly so that her back was to the familiar green eyes and the person she’d kicked onto the floor that very morning. 

“Looks like the boss decided to make a stop. I’m going to finally ask her out,” one of the guys decided as he stood a little straighter and awkwardly fixed his hair. 

“There’s no way Lexa Woods gives you the time of day,” Raven scoffed, sipping her drink and sneaking a look at the grinning CEO. “I bet you twenty bucks she doesn’t even speak to you.” 

“She’s really nice.” 

“Oh, I know. But I bet she won’t even notice you.” 

Clarke felt the blood leave her face as she hurried to sneak another look to confirm that it was, in fact, hell freezing over. And sure enough, for some stranger reason, in a city of hundreds of thousands of people, she was in the same room as the stranger she drunkenly hooked up with sixteen hours beforehand. 

And that stranger was her boss’ boss’ boss’ boss. That stranger was Lexa Woods, CFO of Woods Publishing, daughter of the owner, inheritor to the castle. 

“What do you think, Clarke?” Raven turned toward her. Just five minutes ago, Clarke liked Raven, but now, she wanted to disappear and Raven was blocking the exit. “Think Dan here has a chance?” 

“I don’t really know anything about her,” Clarke shrugged and downed the rest of her drink, careful to stay turned around. 

She didn’t know anything about Lexa Woods, except how she tasted and the noises she made and this thing she did with her fingers that--

“She hasn’t been here long, but she’s actually not the worst, as far as suits go. She likes the creative floors. Her dad’s given her a few projects I’ve been on and I think we work pretty well together,” she explained, offering Clarke a refill. 

“Cool, cool, nice.” 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or you’re a very bad drinker.” 

“I, uh, had a few too many last night.” 

“Hair of the dog then,” Raven grinned and clinked their glasses. “I think I’m going to like having you around, Griffin. At least until you start asking for advanced tech and drive me crazy with your doodles. Oh shit, there he goes.” 

Despite herself, Clarke turned around and watched the illustrator move through the crowd. She looked immediately at Lexa and actually caught her eye. She held the look and she watched Lexa smile at her, though she couldn’t move to return it. Mortification was at the forefront of her brain. That and oddly proud of herself for pulling someone like Lexa Woods, even when she wasn’t on her A game. 

Only when Clarke saw Dan get close, did she look away and break the stupor she found herself stuck in. 

“I can’t believe he hasn’t figured out that she’s gay.” 

“What?”

“Dan has the worst gay-dar of all time,” Raven chuckled. “I almost feel bad taking his money. Almost.” 

Sure enough, as he walked up toward his boss’ boss’ boss, full of confidence and vim, Lexa didn’t even notice him, her eyes firmly locked on Clarke’s as she moved through the crowd, finally deciding to approach. It took a few steps before Clarke realized what was happening, and only then did she feel the two and a half drinks she’d had. 

She really didn’t like Raven. 

“I knew it.” 

Clarke didn’t say a word, but rather looked for a quick escape, though none existed and she already knew that. 

“Hey, I thought I’d come welcome you to the team personally. I’m Lexa Woods.” 

With a smile and her hand outstretched, the CEO stood there, as if she hadn’t gone down on her new employee on her couch. 

“Lexa Woods, as in…” 

“Yeah, that’s my name outside, but don’t hold it against me,” she grinned, holding the handshake a little bit longer. “It was Callie, right?” 

“Clarke.” 

“I’m sorry. Clarke.” 

“I didn’t expect to see you on my first day.” 

“Yeah,” Lexa chuckled. “I can imagine. I like hanging out down here more than upstairs. How are you, Ms. Reyes?” 

“Doing alright,” Raven nodded, appraising the scene before her. “Taking Clarke under my wing, as it were.” 

“I’d be careful,” the boss warned. “It was nice to meet you again, Clarke. I’ll see you guys later. I have a meeting I should try to get to ontime. Punctuality is key.”

Clarke burned red and nodded. 

“Nice to meet you, too, Ms. Woods.” 

“Lexa’s fine.”

“Yeah you are.” 

Lexa just smiled and waved again before disappearing. Dan joined the group a second later and passed a twenty to his friend. The boss left the room a moment later without a look back, and Clarke finally breathed. 

“So,” Raven furrowed. “When did you fuck our boss?” 

XXXXXXXXXX

For three weeks, Clarke managed to avoid all thoughts and ideas of Lexa Woods, CEO and absolute beauty. She didn’t avoid her social media, nor did she avoid much of the idle gossip about her at work, but for the most part, Clarke refused to think about her as much as possible, which amounted to about never. 

Sometimes at work, she was able to go for hours, focusing on her projects. Sometimes, Clarke found herself avoiding areas she suspected she might show up, and for three glorious weeks, she was fairly successful. 

Bent over her drawing board, Clarke found herself in a period of Lexa-less thoughts, happy to escape her life and all else, and instead find some sort of outlet for everything she’d been feeling over the past year. 

“These are very good.” 

“Fuck, you scared me,” Clarke breathed, turning around quickly. “I mean. Not fuck.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t followed up,” Lexa smiled softly, hands tied behind her back as she perused Clarke’s wall of sketches for the short they were doing. “I was out of town on business. How is your first month going, Ms. Griffin?” 

“Do you take such an interest in all of your employees, or just the ones you seduce?” 

“I believe you were the one seducing. I was drunk and adorable and you took advantage of me in my drunk and adorable state.” 

Clarke balked and grit her teeth before seeing that Lexa was making fun of her, which did nothing to calm her. 

“Someone who pins the other to their front door, is not being taken advantage of.” 

She smiled again and Clarke found it infuriating. And hot. But also infuriating a little more. 

“I did do that, didn’t I?” Lexa nodded. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to address that… trist.” 

“It was a fluke, and I think we should stay professional. Like we have.”

“I thought I was keeping it fairly professional.” 

“I just mean, you can’t-- we don’t have to talk about that… trist.” 

“Or we could?” she waited to gauge Clarke’s reaction. “Or not. Definitely not. Very professional. Just pretend it never happened.” 

“Exactly. Thank you for stopping by, Ms. Woods.” 

“Lexa is still fine. We’re going to be working together a bit. Everyone calls me Lexa.” 

“Professional,” Clarke repeated. 

“Casual, even. Professionally casual.” 

“Exactly.” 

XXXXXXXXX

“Professional,” Lexa nodded to herself and tried to catch her breath. The naked body beside her repeated the same thing with a sigh. 

“But we can’t do that again. We were just scratching an itch,” Clarke reasoned as Lexa agreed, humming along with the familiar song. 

If any of that were true, she wouldn’t have been naked in Clarke’s half-made bed, next to a full-naked girl. If she had anything to say about it, they’d be doing it much more and often and professionally. But she was the boss, and she wasn’t allowed to make that call. Clarke had to make it. And Lexa was very grateful that Clarke made it. 

It wasn’t Lexa’s fault that they enjoyed the same bar, or that they happened to notice each other, and it wasn’t her fault that she liked kissing Clarke. 

“I quite like scratching that itch with you.” 

Lexa turned her head and watched Clarke smile before regaining her composure. 

“Don’t sweet talk me, Woods. I’m your employee.” 

“Yeah, but like, only kind of.” 

Clarke turned and gave her a look before Lexa chuckled and rolled toward her, pressing her luck as she pressed against Clarke, kissing her shoulder and her neck. 

“What are we supposed to do?” Clarke turned over as well. “Go into HR and tell them we’re sleeping together?” 

“I could fire you?” 

“Lexa.”

“I could quit?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Or you could agree to go on an actual date with me, and promise not to take your clothes off.” 

“You’re the one that takes them off of me!” 

Despite her wiggling, Clarke let Lexa pull her closer. She ran her fingertips along Lexa’s cheek, squishing her cheeks together so she was making fish lips and smiled at the display, amused at herself and how Lexa let her do that. 

“I zwant tovee hrofeshinal widzth you. Vutd I sink I alike you.” 

“You sound ridiculous.” 

Lexa sighed until Clarke let go of her cheeks, unable to keep the smile there. Instead she held her chin now, between her forefinger and thumb, keeping her steady and there. Fingertips moved up and down her back. 

“I think we can do this without messing up work.” 

“How?” 

“We just don’t work together. I’ll stay off of your projects. Luna has complete control over personnel and who is on what.” 

“If it goes bad?” 

“Then I’ll definitely quit. Sell the company probably. Move to Zurich,” she decided. 

“That plan developed quickly.” 

“It’s always in my back pocket in case a beautiful girl who works for me creates a problem. I will not be caught unprepared again.” 

“Again?” 

“It’s an expression.” 

“Mmm,” Clarke smiled and nodded. 

She didn’t waste a moment. She leaned forward and kissed Lexa because she had to be certain, and she had to find some kind of bravery. She should think about it more, and she should have made a pros and cons list, but something about this moment, this person, Clarke just felt alive, and she’d been chasing it for so long. 

“Did I get the job?”

“You got a date. One date.” 

“I can work with that.”

Teenage Dream Pt. 2

Summary: Mun-Yeong learns that Gang-Tae has an admirer, she handles it very well. 

Notes: So, I really had fun playing with blushingshy! GT and aggressivepossessive! MY, I thought the high school au would be the perfect place to have some fun with their roles, I love domGT to bits but domMY does something special to me. I tried to incorporate things you guys said in the comments for part 1, so if you see your idea in the story thank you for the suggestion! This has smut but I am also enjoying the slow burn of their teenage years, so no full sex yet. Blame GT he wouldn’t stop blushing long enough to get ridden. All in due time. Anyway, here’s part 2 enjoy lovelies! 

 In all actuality, she hadn't expected him to approach her that night. Had felt his eyes on her several times at school, Seung-Jae jokingly labelled him her "not so secret admirer" but she wasn't sure if he actually liked her. She was aware that people considered her popular, a byproduct of wealthy parents with celebrity status, therefore people thought they should like her. The same way you liked a useful tool, she wasn't naive enough to believe that her classmates liked her genuinely. Most of them didn't even know what her stories were about, couldn't see past the grotesque imagery and hidden messages. In reality she knew they found her strange, pretty but too different to truly understand  but they played their parts well, fake smiles plastered on. 

So, she only had Seung-Jae  and that was fine by her, one great friend was infinitely better than a thousand faux friends, who only viewed her as a means to an end. But then he approached her and he was just precious, for goodness sakes he had complimented her school uniform of all things, even his constant stuttering and nervousness had been cute. None of her short stories were about damsels who needed saving, writers honestly needed to get past that ancient trope, yet she found herself playing that role with him. He would show up whenever she needed him, slaying all the dragons that stood in her way and asking nothing in return. It made it easy to give him everything, she'd never met anyone quite like Moon Gang-Tae. She hadn't planned on getting a boyfriend, too focused on school and her goals of being a writer, but he had stumbled into her life and she didn't know how to pass up beautiful things. Being with him was effortless in a way she'd never experience with another person, he listened to her and made her feel like she was important and enough as simply Ko Mun-Yeong, not the daughter of Ko Dae-Hwan and Do Hee-Jae . He had once told her as she cried quietly in soft of his collar, "You belong to you." Oblivious to the fact that he possessed a piece of her too, a piece she'd given willingly, no take backs. She was happy and it terrified her. Which, explained why the universe decided to tip her boat of happiness. She stood waiting for him, in the same spot they had been meeting for weeks now, their spot, not to be confused with their other spot outside where he often waited with her for Sang-In, who she had  recently informed commanded to take a scenic route from now on when picking her up, cherishing every second extra she spent with Gang-Tae. It was his first day back since his untimely suspension, she had visited him everyday under the ruse of bringing him school notes, his mother would smile as she greeted her at the door. Unsuspecting that as soon as they were alone, studying was the last thing on their minds. It was beneficial for science class though, she was learning key information about the male anatomy. Excitement bubbled up as she waited for his arrival, fixing her hair and then immediately moving it back to its original position. Agitated at her nerves, it was unsettling to say the least, no one had this affect on her. His smile was brilliant, when he spotted her, his eyes scoping her out like he had a radar system solely for tracking her, he easily walked away from his friend leaving him mid sentence, closing the space between them with a few wide steps, courtesy of those long legs. Suddenly, it wasn't fast enough, she needed to be in his arms, sooner, now and she propelled forward, rushing to meet him halfway. They bounded to each other like long last lovers who were finally reunited, torn apart by the cruelties of an unfair life. She watched him drop a bag carelessly on the ground as he reached her and grabbed her by her waist, immediately she reciprocated his hold, throwing her arms around his neck. With ease, he lifted her up off her tiptoes, her feet left dangling inches off the ground as he effortlessly supported her body weight. She let out a soft gasp, always shocked by his unassuming displays of strength. She snuggled her face into his neck, it was flame red and and she yearned to kiss it. After a short consideration, she pressed a light kiss into his neck, his soft gasp music to her ears. Tightening his hold, he swayed them side to side, inhaling the scent of her intoxicating shampoo. Unbeknownst to them, Jae-Su looked on in disgust and horror, he hadn't even gotten a chance to finish his story before Gang-Tae had taken off, he rolled his eyes watching their dramatic reunion. They hadn't seen each other for two days; Saturday and Sunday, yet they were acting as if Gang-Tae had just returned from military service. He'd known Gang-Tae for a much more substantial number of years, and he was never greeted in such a fashion. He stomped past them grumbling under his breath, "You never hug me like that, I have to beg for any affection." Unfortunately, Gang-Tae's ears were occupied listening to Mun-Yeong's soft breaths and his complaints were left unheard. Mun-Yeong was the first to disturb the hug, drawing back until they were face to face, but still locked in their tender hold. She couldn't help the exuberant smile that spread across her face, "I'm so happy you're back. I missed you." She watched with amused eyes as his signature blush colored his face, his adorable grin tempted her to kiss him right then and there. It was only his next words that halted her, "I got you something." He finally broke their hold, she suppressed her sigh, and he picked up the bag he had discarded prior to their hug. She clapped her hands in excitement, she adored surprises. He reached into the bag smiling at her adorable response and handed her a plastic cup filled with milky brown liquid, her eyes lit up in recognition. "It's coffee milk. I went to the coffee shop you like, that's why I'm late, I'm sorry didn't mean to keep you waiting." His glossy brown eyes stared at her, apologetic and pleading. She giggled before finally giving into her previous urge, yanking his checkered collar, bringing his face close enough to kiss. His eye was huge but he didn't resist, allowing her to draw him in. She curled her free hand around his thick neck, leaning up to capture his slack mouth. He tasted like cereal, sweet and succulent and she chased the taste with her tongue, licking into his moist mouth before he returned the favor. His tongue insistent in her mouth, gasping when she pulled his bottom lip hungrily. She let out a surprised puff of air, as he walked forward forcing her to retreat until her back met the hard wall. He placed a broad hand on her back, dragging her deeper into the kiss as the other cradled her head. Time slowed down as they kissed, wet sounds filling the air. Their mouths broke apart only to come back together, time and time again. A loud cough sounded off to her right, she willfully ignored it, lost in the flavors of her boyfriend. But the cough continued followed by an obnoxious clearing of the throat, she pulled away to shout at whoever was interrupting them only to meet the eyes of her best friend. "You do realize that you're in public right and that you're giving everyone a free show?" Seung-Jae asked eyes never looking up from her phone, her fingers flying across the touch screen, most likely on Tumblr again. As she took a moment to catch her breath, her eyes scanned the hallway and yes, all eyes were on them. Thankfully no teachers but their classmates were looking on with gaping mouths. Some even had their phones out, she glowered at them until they hurriedly hid them shamed-face, before snapping back to Gang-Tae. He was painfully shy, she knew his face would be alight and she was right. He glowed scarlet red above, satisfaction settled in her belly, poor baby. Looking down at her watch with a despondent sigh, she brought the gifted drink to her lips, still tingling from the passionate kiss. His eyes followed the motion, lingering on her mouth. "Thank you for the coffee milk. You were even more delicious though." She teased, hearing him groan in embarrassment. "Come on girl, we need to get to class. " Seung-Jae impatiently interrupted again, tapping her feet now, code for hurry the fuck up. "Alright I'm coming." She picked up her fallen book bag, swinging it over her shoulder, before Gang-Tae's arm shot out grasping the bag in his large hand. "I can carry it." He said in the softest voice, sounding like he was being given a gift, she'd forgotten how he seemingly couldn't stand to see her carry anything. Just adorable. "No. No, lover boy. You go to your class, we don't have time for another long goodbye. She can carry a book bag." Gang-Tae's eyes shifted to hers pleadingly and she almost lost her resolve, but she knew her friend was right, if he carried her bag she would notice his arms and how muscular they were and that would lead to her wanting to kiss him again and this ferocious cycle would repeat. With an apologetic hand on his smooth cheek, she shook her head, "She's right, you shouldn't be late on your first day back. I'll see you later." He nodded, subconsciously swaying into her hand before she pulled it away. Suddenly she was violently yanked away by her book bag, Seung-Jae's patience all but worn out. She longingly looked back at Gang-Tae, blowing him a kiss. If she hadn't spun around to threaten her best friend for being so aggressive, Do you have a death wish? She would have seen him catch the kiss, delicately putting it in his pocket.

She'd always judged girls around school who couldn't stand to be away from their boyfriends, rolling skeptical eyes at their dependency, she was already whole no other half needed, thank you. So when she found herself thinking of Gang-Tae, unable to focus on the teacher's voice, affronted annoyance seared in her blood. What was he doing to her? Mentally berating herself for her weakness, she rose her hand, catching the teacher's attention. "May I use the bathroom?" She requested, already knowing the response would be yes, this was one of her best classes and missing a few insignificant minutes wouldn't alter her high standing. She grabbed the pass at the teacher's nod, avoiding Seung-Jae's suspicious glance. She didn't need her negativity, weren't best friends supposed to be supportive? Hers was clearly defective. She told herself she would use the bathroom after checking on Gang-Tae, see how his first day back was going, merely good girlfriend duties. Peering into his classroom she easily located her handsome boyfriend, a chiseled chin laid on his hand, gazing out the window as if lost in a daydream. Her heart skipped a beat. Her eyes eagerly devoured him, the hours they'd spent apart ached, she longed to be back in his arms kissing him senseless turning him into a blushing mess. She was so wrapped up in his beauty, she almost missed another set of longing eyes. Nam Ju-Ri, she didn't know her well, had declined her hand in friendship after seeing how quickly she could go from “nice” to malicious. She'd always preferred the wolf rather than a wolf in sheep's clothing. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the oblivious girl gaze at her boyfriend, the flames of jealousy searing in her blood. Who was she to look at him? Wasn't it clear that he was off limits? Her taste was probably still in his mouth from this morning, she'd happily recreate the moment to remind the two faced bitch to back off. Finally, after a few minutes she stalked off to the bathroom, a bad taste lingering on her tongue.

They were working together on a group project. Her smile had fallen as he explained to her that he would need to leave early to meet Ju-Ri and Jae-Su at the Subway's to begin working on their group project. She planned on asking him to stay at school with her, she needed to work on her new short story for the school paper. It was the perfect excuse to get some much needed alone time with him, this new information threw a proverbial wrench in her plans. Only his sweet sad eyes stopped her from throwing a tantrum. He didn't look happy at the prospect of being away from her either. Using the situation as motivation, she penned a tale about a slow-witted girl who learned the dangers of touching that which wasn't yours, the grass wasn't always greener on the other side, sometimes it was best to appreciate what you had, least you lose everything. Or at least, a few fingers in the process.  She never claimed to be subtle. After adding the finishing touches, her story was complete. Not her best work but adequate, a true Ko Mun-Yeong classic, dark but revealing. Are you still at Subways? As she collects her belongings, she awaits his reply to her message, humming and setting a new course of action as she exits the school, the sun warm on her skin, restoring her energy. Yes, we're still here.

They are the scene of academic innocence with textbooks sprawled across the dining table, and notes and writing utensils precariously dangling. Gang-Tae is seated next to Jae-Su, Ju-Ri directly across, currently leaning over to point something out to his watchful eye. He rubs his jaw, nodding in agreement before jotting down notes on a stray piece of paper. With a firm hand she pushes the door open, a melodic chime announcing her arrival, all eyes glance to see who has entered including the only eyes that matter to her. He instantly stands up, wide smile on his face as he waves her over, missing the grimace that covers Ju-Ri's face. As soon as she's close enough to touch, he does. Drawing her into a warm hug, that she happily returns, breathing in his fresh scent. "I didn't know you were coming. Are you hungry?" He motions to the cash register, she shakes her head in decline, nodding at Jae-Su and Jae-Su, alone. Ju-Ri makes a point of checking her phone and looking as occupied as possible, she's happy to act like they’re strangers. In most ways, that's exactly what they are. "Do you want to sit?" There are no additional seats she notes, the establishment packed as it usually is after school's dismissal. "No, you sit." He looks at her in apparent confusion, about to argue before she forces him back into the seat, before taking her seat. 

In his lap. His gasp breezes against her ear as she faces Ju-Ri, placid smile on her face at the girl's evident irritation, she makes herself comfortable turning to look at Gang-Tae, who shyly meets her eyes, his hands cautiously holding her hips for support. "Hey, you." She whispers only loud enough for him to hear, his coffee-brown eyes soften in response, "Hi, I missed you." Her lips find his in a sweet kiss, as he brushes her hair behind her hair. A quiet moan escapes her lips at the gentle touch, his eyes are dark when she draws away. A million miles away. She would never tire of her affect on him and how unashamed he was about showing her. "Alright that's enough from you two." Jae-Su's exasperated voice interrupts, she squashes the urge to glare at him, Gang-Tae had asked her to be nicer to him claiming he was terrified of her. She really didn't see the issue with that but she was trying for Gang-Tae's sake. He soothed out her rougher edges. Gang-Tae struggles to focus with her in his lap, absentmindedly stroking her hair instead of answering a question that was posed to him. When he brought his sandwich to his mouth, she leaned over taking a bite too, accidentally biting his finger, soft apology on her lip. She slowly licked mayo residue from the corner of her lip, his eyes raptly watching its journey as she swallowed, "Mmmm it tastes good." He briskly repositions her in his lap, shifting her into his leg, away from her place in the center. Ju-Ri finally speaks after the display through clenched teeth, "I need to go, my mom is expecting me." Gang-Tae and Jae-Su bade her goodbye and safe travels, Mun-Yeong merely looks at her while stroking her finger possessively across Gang-Tae's massive shoulders, mouthing one word, mine. He looked scrumptious in his basketball uniform, arms tensing and flexing as he dribbled the ball up and down the court. She'd happily agreed to stay for his practice today, unwilling to pass out the chance the see a slightly damp Gang-Tae. She hasn't yet spoken to him about his...admirer. It felt ridiculous to waste their time together talking about anything other than them, when they weren't devouring each other. So she didn't expect to run into the very person who was infiltrating her thoughts. The two faced bitch, alone, walking down the stairs text books in her arm. Impulsively she calls out, "You know he's mine right? Stay away from my boyfriend." The girl's head snaps up in shock, before her face settles into vexation. Good at least she's being real. She would loathe to see the fake calm smile Ju-Ri typically sends her way. "He's not your property. You don't own him." With a tight smirk she stalks over, climbing the stairs until they're level, still knowing she'll always be above her in every way imaginable. "That's where you're wrong, he is mine. My boyfriend, so why don't you get someone who actually wants you and stop drooling over what you can't have? You act so nice but you're just a two-faced bitch." She bites out the last word, stepping into Ju-Ri's face, blood singing at the opportunity to put her in her place. The sting of the harsh slap against her cheek, whiplashes her head to the side, momentarily she's impressed, surprised that the girl actually had the gall to strike her, whatever I do now is technically self defense now, she thinks. Before viciously grabbing the other girl by her thin hair, yanking at the tender follicles. "Are you crazy?" She screams loudly, lost in her rage. "Are you on something? How dare you slap me?!" Emphasizing her question with a particularly hard pull of her hair. They tussle on the staircase, Ju-Ri frantically trying to pry her hands from her hair as she pushes her head into the wall. Both unaware that the commotion from their fight has garnered the attention of the basketball team, the boys cheering them on, cacophonous yells filling the previously quiet hallway. "Oh shit is that Mun-Yeong?" "Someone get Gang-Tae!" She slams Ju-Ri's head into the wall, satisfaction overcoming her at the pleasing smack it makes. Soon Ju-Ri's screams drown out the boys and then she feels her body being lifted, completely swept off her feet. Only his familiar scent stops her from lashing out at the arms around her midsection, prying her away from Ju-Ri.  Her hands remain in their tight clutch of the girl's hair but then his voice cuts through the fog in her mind, like a lighthouse. Guiding her back to the light. "Mun-Yeong, let go of her." His voice is too quiet to be a command but there is no inflection indicating a question either. He pulls her bodily away from Ju-Ri, his arms like steel around her abdomen, making her feel like a wayward child. With a final cry, she releases her hold, only to roughly shove her, aptly watching as she tumbles down the three measly stairs. Ju-Ri screams as if she had been murdered, dramatically wet eyes staring behind her, looking at him. She grabs at her once more, regaining her attention. She is elated at the look of fear in Ju-Ri's eyes as she looks up from her spot on the ground. She growls at her, bearing her teeth as she is carried away. "This was your only warning!" As soon as she is freed from the prison of Gang-Tae's arms, she begins pacing like an trapped animal, hot puffs of breath rasping out of her lungs. She feels hot with anger, which morphs into frustration before coiling into ugly shame. She dreads the look of disappointment she will see on her boyfriend's face, unlike Daniel, who was no friend of hers, she had just attacked someone he considered a friend. She knew that she had let the flames of anger consume her, this was the real reason she didn't have true friends. Most people couldn't handle her... intensity. Which was putting it nicely. She didn't like to share. Years of loneliness with parents that couldn't be bothered with her existence, had formed an ugly desire in her to latch on to the people she opened up to. She would squeeze so tightly until they ultimately burst, realizing her darkness and leaving before they too were consumed. She'd never cared enough to worry about losing anyone, all she had was Seung-Jae and Sang-In and they knew first-hand about her uglier traits, and loved her despite her flaws. But Gang-Tae had never seen this side of her, had never given her reason to show it. He looked at her like she was the sun and moon and all the stars, it would be crushing to see that love twist into fear. "Are you okay?" His voice. It was gentle. He didn't sound scared. Or disappointed. Or repulsed. Just worried, his hand on her cheek further shocking her until she brought her head up to meet his eyes. In them she saw concern, but not much else, none of the emotions others usually exhibited when they saw the real Ko Mun-Yeong. "Mun-Yeong, are you okay?" He repeated his question, cupping her cheek in his hand now. A cool balm on her hot skin. She forced out a reply, "Yes. She only slapped me, I hit her a lot more." His eyes perused her body, looking for more injuries and he let out a sigh of relief when he found none. "Aren't you.. aren't you upset that I hit your friend?" She cursed out the final word, unable to control the venom in her tone. "No, I'm mostly... confused? I didn't know you didn't like her." His brows knitted together in bewilderment, "Why were you fighting? What happened?" The memory of overhearing Ju-Ri talk to Byeol about Gang-Tae played in her mind, all of the earlier anger resurging in her blood. "Should you really be going after him? Isn't he with Mun-Yeong now?" "I liked him first! She stole him from me, I just want him to know how I feel too. Let him know he has options." After that the rest was inevitable, she couldn't hold herself back. Didn't want to in all honesty, the slap was merely the straw that broke the camel's back. "She likes you! I heard her talking about you, she said she wanted you to know you had options. I simply reminded her that there are no options, you're mine." Flabbergasted, if you searched the word in the dictionary Gang-Tae's face would be the image. He sat down in an chair of the empty classroom he had dragged her into, looking dazed. His mouth opened. Then closed. Opening once more, before closing again. Until he finally found his words, "You're jealous....of me? Of other girls liking me?" She took high offense at the skepticism in his voice and passionately retorted, "Yes, of course I am! Those...those ants want you and are trying to steal you away from me!" He grabbed her arms, stopping her mid pace, drawing her into his lap. Calming her with a single touch. His raspy baritone hypnotized her, "Breathe with me, please." She took a deep breath, matching his even breaths until she felt her anger dissipate, fizzing into nothing. "You have nothing to be jealous about. I don't want Ju-Ri or anyone else, I want you. Only you. I am yours, for as long as you'll have me." His hands rubbed up and down her sides in a soothing motion, massaging away any negative emotion left in her body. "You don't mind.... You're not upset I called you mine?" She peered at him with huge bewildered eyes. "Why would I be? As long as you're mine too." He looked at her hopefully, she didn't deign that inquiry with a verbal response. Instead taking the opportunity to utilize her spot in his lap, grabbing his face and kissing the query off his lips. Possessively shoving her tongue into his mouth, hands falling to his neck to pull him deeper into their embrace. She bit his lip then swiped the pain away, lapping at his hot wet mouth. Humming at his taste, thirsty for more. He gasped, pulling away to inhale deep breaths, his eyes were hazy with arousal. She attached herself to his neck, sucking his sweaty skin into her mouth, aroused by his moan of pleasure. "Wait, should we do this...here?" He gestured at the classroom, "What if someone comes looking for us?" She perked up at the idea, delighting in the thought of that two-faced bitch finding them and seeing first-hand that Gang-Tae belonged to her. She sucked harder instead of answering, running a hand through his hair, pulling his head to the side to give her better access. He melted in her arms, boneless at her ministrations. She looked proudly at the purple-red bruise that formed on his skin, stark on his porcelain pale skin, it would be seen a mile away. "Beautiful." She sighed caressing the marked skin, awed and proud of her work. Gang-Tae blushed looking at her like she was a predator and he couldn't wait to be eaten. Realization washed over her like a tidal wave. He hadn’t acted at all like she had imagined.  "You like this." It wasn't a question, the hard line prodding into her ass told her everything she needed to know. "I never thought you'd get jealous of me. Seeing you like this is...." "Sexy?" She finished his sentence, he held her heated stare before nodding in agreement. She laughed, boisterous laughter, he was utterly perfect for her. She wanted to wreck him. Swiveling her hip into a seductive roll, she watched the pleasure wash over his face, his pretty red cheeks and open mouth calling out to the beast that had been unleashed. She swallowed his moans, groaning as he licked into her mouth, their tongues wrestling for control, she ground into his hard erection, playing dirty to get the upper hand. "Cheater." He rasped out, eyes narrowed at her. She grinded harder, wrapping her arms around his neck, riding him through their clothes. The head of his hard cock rubbing on her moist center, she'd moved her uniform skirt out of the way, desperate to feel him. They hadn't done much sans clothes yet and she was hungry for it. Whispering into his red hot ears, "Can I take off my panties?" His hands tightened painfully on her hips, as he threw his head back in a long suffering groan. She pressed on, "Please I'm so wet, I know you're not ready for.... that. But I just want to feel you." He was shaking in her arms, little hitching breaths and she waited for his response, mouthing at the large hickey on his neck. Finally he nodded. Eyes too bright, they almost seemed to be glowing. She stood up, leaving his lap, eyeing the rigid tent protruding from his uniform pants, covetously watching, eager for the day it would also be hers. Raking her skirt up under his watchful eyes, she took a hold of her panties, he subconsciously licked his lips in anticipation, as she slid the moist material down her thighs, bending over to slip them off. He watched her soaked panties hanging from the tips of her fingers utterly captivated, before she tossed them to the side carelessly. With a coy smile, she slid back onto his lap, moaning at the sensation of his clothed cock pressing on her bare opening, rocking harder on him, as spots of color exploded behind her eyelids. It felt incredible. He was burning hot and so stiff beneath her, all her thoughts minimized down to this moment. She wanted to come. Desperately. Could feel the persistent itch under her skin. When she opened her eyes Gang-Tae's were fixed on the space between her thighs, he looked ravenous as she used him for her pleasure, muscles coiled tight as he sat painfully still as she bounced on his lap. "You can touch me. I want you to, don't be nervous." She insisted, seeing his hands brutal grip on the sides of the chair. His nails were digging into the plastic, leaving indentations. He hesitated before bringing his fingers to the lips of her pussy, briefly sliding into the opening before retracting this fingers. She groaned in frustration, it felt so good she needed more, why was he stopping? Fucking tease.  Voice laced with veneration, he said, "You're so.... it's so wet." She glared at him before chastising him, he was like this every time they were naked, surprised that she was aroused by him, "You made me like that. Don't be a tease now." He glowered at her statement, she had called him that various times before.  His fingers slowly crept to her wet opening, a barely there touch that had her shouting, and she couldn't wait anymore she was too turned on, using his thighs for support she leaned up before bearing down on his fingers, easily slipping down their entire lengths, feeling a breath punched out of her. Gang-Tae was still frozen as she began to ride his fingers, pulling him into her tight hole, wet sounds filling the room, her juices coating his fingers. Then she felt him moving inside her, driving his fingers up to meet with her downward thrusts, his thumb momentarily pressed against her clitoris and she bit her tongue at the euphoria. She was dangerously close. His dick twitched underneath her and she slowed her sensuous movement in a slow rock, peering into his pleasure dilated eyes, "Do you want to feel me?" She watched the war on his face, control and hunger battling, "I don't...I don't want our first time to be in a classroom. You deserve more." She softened at his precious words, if only he knew that any first time would be perfect as long as it was with him. The location was insignificant. "There are...other ways to feel me." At his blank stare she continued, "Do you trust me?" Instantly he nodded, and she smiled, before reaching down to catch his zipper and slowly lowered it. He wheezed, sounding short of breath but didn't stop her. She pulled his erect dick from the slit in his boxer, it stood red and impressive in her hands, perfect in size and shape, thick and long. She hummed in approval, giggling at Gang-Tae's embarrassed face. With a dick like this, he had nothing to be embarrassed about, she doubted hearing that would help his blush though.  He closed his eyes at the feel of her hands on his dick for the first time. It surely wouldn't be her last. She would make sure of that.  Then with her eyes boring into his, she slid over his cock, rubbing her wetness over the hard ridge, simultaneously they moaned at the sensation. His engorged head caught on her opening but it never went in, instead sliding through her sopping wet folds, rubbing on her swollen clit.

Soon, she was the one being devoured as he inhaled her lips with a deep sloppy kiss, his spit running down her chin, as she vigorously rode him, letting him plunder her mouth. Without prompting, his hands slithered under her shirt, groping her breasts. Roughly, moving her bra out of the way, squeezing them the way he knew she liked. His fingers twisting her rigid nipples until they were deliciously sore.

"Gang-Tae!" She screamed his name, her body overloaded from pleasure. He met her thrust for thrust, their pace vigorous, a race to the end. She pulled away from his lips, taking his face in her hands feeling him stiffen under her, she forced his head up until their eyes met, with a final punishing thrust she was falling off the edge, shouting her release. She squeezed her eyes shut, riding the waves of pleasure. He twitched beneath her, bruising grip on her breasts as his cum shot out of his cock and landed in thick streams on the floor.  She took huge gulps of air as her body cooled down, coming down from her extreme high, thin layer of sweat settling on her skin. Lifting her head from where it had fallen on his shoulder, she grinned at his goofy smile, he looked wrung out, it was a good look on him. After regaining the feeling in her legs she hopped off his lap, retrieving her panties from the floor, as she was placing her legs into them, she paused before looking at him, before walking up to him as he adjusted his own pants, flaccid cock now hidden away sadly enough. With a salacious grin, she stuffed her panties into his pocket, "You can keep those." He stuttered, too tongue tired to respond but didn’t stop her or give them back.  They stumbled downstairs to wide eyed stares that shifted into knowing glances from Gang-Tae's teammates who were just finishing up with practice. All eyes immediately latching on to the giant hickey on his neck. She'd never seen him turn quite that red.

The next day, Jae-Su's loud voice assaulted her ears as he looked at his best friend in horror, "What happened to your neck?!" Before looking at her with an accusatory glare, "What did you do to him you....you vampire!" She smiled serenely as Ju-Ri snuck past them, avoiding her eye contact, a small scrape on her knee from the fall. Gang-Tae flushed at the words but didn't cover the mark, instead taking her books before kissing her on the forehead. He was hers, happily and she wouldn't take that for granted and had no problem reminding others who might forget. 

THE HERO YOU NEED

Chapter Four

Chapter Three Here

Your punishment was severe as the man who gave it. Not only were you and Malfoy late, for which he docked an entire 20 house points each for, but the two of you were also the only two students left after a round of interhouse pairing Snape had implemented prior to your arrival. Apparently the school wanted to promote unity within Hogwarts, though the deep glower on your professor’s face as he spat out said plan spoke volumes to what he actually thought of it all.

Malfoy had been strangely silent as Snape ripped into you two, and also when you settled into your two-person desk for the year. His lack of reaction made you quite uncomfortable, and the pitying looks Hermione kept sending your way every so often weren’t helping.

It wasn’t nice being called names, especially ones as foul as the Malfoy boy tended to utter. Your disappointment was palpable, the atmosphere between the two of you wrought with tension. You try not to glance over at the boy next to you, but that’s proving harder than you’d initially thought. Snape had already given you your first assignment, a potion who’s name you were too zoned out to hear. You watched as pale fingers slip down the page quietly, carefully following lines of directions. You considered yourself quite splendid at potions, but the careful, methodical motions Malfoy performed as he began cutting and measuring ingredients seems to make your abilities pale in comparison. You continued to watch him in a daze, still not making eye contact but instead brewing another kind of intensity in the air. Suddenly, Malfoy shifts, his body abruptly facing your direction.

“Are you going to be this useless all year?” He snapped, gripping the edge of the cauldron. His harsh words snapped you out of your reverie, reminding you that you are indeed still in the middle of class. Your neck flushes hot, your eyes finally snapping up to meet his.

For someone who’s nostrils are flaring in annoyance, the blonde boy looked almost awkward. His posture was slightly off, and his free hand fidgeted with his robes. Not one to adjust well to embarrassing yourself, you scoop up the nearest ingredient before crushing it in your hands over the pot.

“There,” you squeaked. You stared at Malfoy, and Malfoy stared at you.

As the boy’s brows drew closer and closer together, and the sound of bubbling from your cauldron grew louder and louder, you resigned yourself to admitting —

“I think I fucked up —”

BOOM.

Your concoction seemed to implode on itself, before rapidly expanding in a muted explosion. Most of it splattered back into the pot, but a good chunk went straight for your face, having just peered into the pot when you realized your mistake.

Your eyes instantly squeezed shut, your face now entirely dyed purple. Silence blanketed the classroom, a few beats going by before a loud laugh pierced the room, a roar of cacaphony and jeers following.

Your first official day at Hogwarts and you already wanted to crawl into a hole and die. The sophisticated image you’d worked tirelessly to nurture at Ilvermorny instantly flew out the window here, and you felt as if you’d possibly never come back from this with Professor Snape, who was currently attempting to no doubt murder you with his eyes.

Malfoy stood across from you gaping, questioning your sanity and intelligence. In no universe did he expect for something like this to happen. Why in the bloody hell did you even do that? Weren’t you supposed to be smart? What happened to the confident, self-assured girl he met on the train? The misfortune that was your face right now made the snarky Slytherin feel a little bit better about what happened between the two of you, and he felt himself relax a little bit more. At least you weren’t as perfect as he thought.

The grin spreading across Malfoy’s face filled your poor teenage soul with even more despair than you thought possible, embarrassed out of your mind.

One abrupt cough from Snape was enough to calm the class down, the man coldly instructing you to get out of his classroom and visit Madame Pomfrey. You gladly fled the scene, eager to free yourself from the situation. You faintly heard Snape demanding Malfoy to follow after you as you exited the classroom, to your despair.

Why was the universe doing this to you?

“You don’t seem to be as bright as you think you are, Hightower,”

“I swear I’m not as dumb as I’ve made myself look.”

You spoke at the same time; stricken dumb at each other’s words. He processes what you said before guffawing boisterously, bending at the waist.

The sheer delight and astonishment on his face surprisingly helped bring down your own emotional high, and you uncurled your hands from the fists you’d clenched them into. This boy was laughing at you, but for some reason the sound calmed your nerves.

How annoying.

“I just so happen to be a wonderful student. Hogwarts just doesn’t seem to agree with me is all,” you sniffed, speeding up your pace. The loud laughter still trailing behind you was enough to bring a small smile to your face, your shoulders finally releasing as well.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he replied, sarcasm dripping heavily from his voice.

You ignored him, walking a few more paces with your nose turned up before Malfoy cleared his throat behind you.

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

Not even needing to turn to hear the lilt in his voice, you froze. Whipping around, you face him once again to see his brows nearly hidden by his hairline. His face screamed amusement, and you cursed your own name for the nth time that day for repeatedly embarrassing yourself.

“Malfoy,” you attempted to say evenly. He wiggled his brows at you, leaning against a nearby wall.

“Hightower,” he drawled.

“Would you be so kind as to escort me to the hospital wing?”

“I guess Snape ordered me to do so, Hightower. Besides, wouldn’t want to disappoint you, now, would I?”

You half expected to be met with snark, but weren’t prepared for the humor laced in his voice. Malfoy turned and started walking in the opposite direction, clearly rubbing in your face that you’d hadn’t the slightest idea of where you were going.

Clearly.

You rushed to follow him, eyes focused on his figure from behind.

“You know,” you began thoughtfully. “You aren’t so bad most of the time. Fun, even. But you say awfully mean things, especially around your so-called friends.”

This seemed to throw Draco off quite a bit, as he began sputtering for a reply.

“Yes, well, some people should know their place is all.” He finally eked out.

“Yeah; what a grand mindset, you weasel,” you rolled your eyes. Now it was Draco’s turn to whip around to you, face aghast.

“I am not a weasel! Don’t ever compare me to those redheaded bumpkins!”

“A..ferret then...?” You raised your brow. He studied the self-satisfied smile on your face for a few seconds before rolling his eyes, continuing his journey. It was best not to respond at all in his opinion, you would only snark back.

“Ferrets aren’t weasels,” you sang. “At least not technically.” You could feel hot triumph bubble in your chest at the sight of the twitching at the corner of his mouth, the boy clearly fighting back a smile.

“I am a terrifying snake,” he joked, gesturing to the Slytherin crest on his robes. “Clearly superior to such mammals. I eat them for breakfast.”

You choked out a laugh, surprised by his sudden willingness to joke around with you.

“Don’t badgers actually eat snakes for breakfast?” You point out. You could see the gears turning in his head as Draco stops dead, flabbergasted. Not one to let an opportunity slip by, you tiptoe around him, satisfied.

“I guess us Hufflepuffs are tougher than you thought, huh Draco?” You smiled sweetly, prancing off into the hospital wing you’d just arrived at.

Draco stood still for a few moments, replaying the entire conversation he’d just had with you in his head. For some reason, he couldn’t stop grinning, completely amused with the easy banter he falls into with you. Yes, he was smiling at your admittedly higher than average wit, that was all.

Definitely not because you called him Draco again.

*

Madame Pomfrey was very good at what she does. She fixed you up in no time, your face coming back to its original color alongside your dignity. You got on quite nicely with the older woman, promising to return and study under her mentorship whenever you could. Magical properties and their effects on human anatomy was quite possibly the most important aspect of your studies towards the kind of witch you wished to be, and you were thrilled such an astounding mentor was actually found here at Hogwarts.

Surprisingly, Draco waited for you. He insisted it was because he didn’t want to deal with the torment of the class (or Snape for that matter) upon his return, but that didn’t keep you from noticing the way his neck and ears turned red.

“Can’t get enough of me, I see,” you teased.

He raised a brow at you, stepping forward before leaning in ever so slightly. Your gazes locked, and by the gods your heart was nearly beating out of your chest. The boy really did have gorgeous features, especially those striking eyes of his peering down at you.

“You really have been quite bold for someone who’s face had been purple this whole time,” he said calmly, studying your face for a reaction.

“Well,” you replied evenly, “it’s not now. And I think,” you took a bold step forward, “that I was flustering you regardless of the color of my face.”

Your chests were now nearly pressed together, your faces even closer. Draco smirked down at you, clearly entertained by the playfulness swimming across your features. He doesn’t remember the last time he was able to enjoy teasing, friendly conversation like this with someone. It seemed as he got older, his family got colder. He was sure his father was anticipating something, though he wasn’t quite sure what. Either way, he’d never felt any particular warmth from the man to begin with.

And his friends are just...not particularly great people. Sure, there was the Slytherin loyalty between them, but he doubted any of them understood who he was past his last name.

He’d finally met someone who even his parents were sure to like, someone his friends would like, someone he liked, but she—

Gods, she was infuriating! A bloody Hightower a blood traitor! Did she really think those filthy weasels and that mudblood and Potter were a better choice in friends? And choosing Hufflepuff over Slytherin even after they confided in each other? What was wrong with her?

What was wrong with him?

“Draco?”

You watched the frustration develop in Draco’s face in real time as he clenched his jaw, suddenly widening the space between the two of you by several feet. The loss of body heat was stark, just as much as the chilliness now embedded in Draco’s face. He slowly opened his mouth to no doubt spew some random venom, but the hot rage boiling in your veins bubbled up through yours first—

“Before you even speak,” you seethed. “I know you Draco Malfoy. Probably better than those buffoons you call friends, and that’s just from one conversation. And you know me. I don’t know what the hell you just convinced yourself of in that thick ass head of yours, but it’s not true.”

What?

Sorry, what?

What the bloody hell was she on about?

Draco watched you in complete befuddlement (a sensation he’s become increasingly more familiar with after knowing you) as you drew nearer, angrily ranting and poking at his chest. He hadn’t said a single word to you before you just blew up at him, a sudden hurricane to meet the storminess that had no doubt been emitting on his own part.

His brows grew closer and closer together the longer your rant got, the intensity of your voice only amplified by the echo of the hallway.

Your hands were still moving about wildly, your lips glistening. He watched the way your throat moved up and down with each word, entranced. What were you saying? What were you saying?

How could you know him so well without him even saying a word?

“—and if you think that just because you want me to be that I can be strong enough to do what I wanted without caring about what other people thought? What you said the other day hurt Draco! Especially coming from you! You can’t go walking around and being a bloody dick to everyone just to entertain your friends and then turn around and scold me! You were being a hypocrite then and you’re being one now! I know you convinced yourself that I’m the enemy somehow, and —“

And you continued. Draco did not know how the hell (Y/N) Hightower, a Hufflepuff witch who hung around the likes of Potter and his gang, a clumsy bobble head who blew up her own face, a frustratingly attractive enchantress —

Could read him for filth in that exposing, soul-baring way unique to her, but apparently you did, because —

“I know what you’re thinking,” you huffed, your shoulders rising up and down. You took a moment to catch your breath, your mouth completely dry. You didn’t expect yourself to explode in the way you did, but when you witnessed Draco drawing into himself again, felt the doubt start to creep in his mind as the frown crept across his face, you just knew,

“We’re the same. You and I are just alike — we were raised as certain people meant for certain things and are expected to do whatever it takes to maintain that. We play the part to the point that— that we don’t even know who we are, only who people want us to be. And then we question the motives of everyone we interact with — are they here for us, or— or—,” you trailed off, suddenly self conscious. Suddenly the halls seemed especially large, and your voice seemed especially large, and Draco seemed especially large —

“For who they want us to be, right?” Draco rasped out, finishing your sentence. He was silent, and then his shoulders were shaking, and then his voice starting shaking as he threw his head back and laughed.

He was laughing at you again, and you damn near screamed.

Just when you thought your humiliation for the day was over, you go and do something to make it come back full force.

Why do you do this to yourself?

How could you be so presumptuous? How could tell him you knew what he was thinking just because of his face? Did he make you that insecure?

Something about the sudden drop in Draco’s mood reminded you of yourself, yes. Just when you started to get close to people you found yourself questioning their motives and reasonings for knowing you; hell, you don’t even know yourself, so how could someone else claim to?

You saw that same type of insecurity in Draco - or at least you thought you did, but truth is you aren’t a damn mind reader and you just went off on some insane rant to a boy who’s not above taking advantage of it if he really wanted to.

Your eyes were wide as you just stared at Draco, who was still laughing at you. Of course he was, you’d made a complete fool of yourself. You were determined to write an owl to your parents first thing in the morning to save you form your misery and allow you to go back to Ilvermorny in peace —

“You’re something else, Hightower.” Draco interrupted, cutting off your increasingly escalating thoughts.

The chime of the bell signifying the end of the class followed, and the once empty hallway began to flood with students. Draco had finally calmed down as well, still facing you as people meandered around you.

“I don’t know about being the same person and all that,” he sniggered. You could feel your face burning in shame, but his next words surprised you.

“But I do know that we’re going to be partners for the next year. I’ll try to be civil if you do. Also, no more rants, no matter how freakishly accurate they are,” he murmured. He slowly widened the space between you once again, before turning his back on you.

“Wouldn’t want you to come after me for breakfast, right? Might as well play nice,” he twisted back, wigging his brows before completely turning away and disappearing his way into the crowd.

You were stupefied for a good moment, not even noticing the annoyed glances people shot your way as they brushed past you. Your lips finally curling up, you twirled and sauntered on your way as well.

And yet another time since you two met, Draco Malfoy made you smile.

***********

Author’s Note: clearly there’s a few canon changes I will make such as certain classes and their makeup. Also, I had to rewrite the second half of this TWICE because Tumblr deleted half my fucking draft godDAMN was I pissed but anyway that’s why it took so long to come out and is shorter than normal 🤧

[Taglist:

@dreams-in-blxck @fire-lady-livi @welpshitshit

@redheaded-hobbit @iriaeden @lunars]

If your name is in black, it wouldn’t let me tag you.

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20 and Jessemaul please 🙏

For this ask meme

This got really horny, but like in a weird way, and I am so sorry.

NOT SAFE FOR WHALES

CITRUS SCALE: LEMON (POSSIBLY GRAPEFRUIT, I DON'T REALLY KNOW HOW WEIRD YOU GOTTA GET FOR THAT)

Warnings: Kink negotiation but maybe not quite enough, rough sex, overstimulation, biting and bruising, i think this counts as pain play, D/s, mild(?) sub drop/aftercare, crying during sex, safe word use, asexual character having sex

Here on AO3

20. Confessions

Three months after finally returning to Dathomir, Jesse sat down across from Maul and said, "I want you to hold me down and fuck me so hard I beg you to stop."

They had been intimate since the mess that was Florrum, mostly relegated to hands and mouths, but the suddenness of the request was startling. If Maul were a lesser being, or perhaps merely if Jesse had said this earlier into their sexual relationship, he might have choked on his tea. As it was, he was sure his expression was amusingly wide-eyed to the lieutenant.

"I take it you'd like me to use the... assistive equipment you've mentioned before," he said at length. Jesse's voice had been firm, unyielding, but he carried a tension in his shoulders, hands clasped his own cup so tightly as to turn his knuckles white, and his gaze was fixed on the small eating table between them. This was something... important to him, likely related to the way he'd been prowling about the residence lately. "And should I stop, when you beg me to?"

Deep brown eyes darted up, looking caught, before jerking aside to bore holes into the wall. "No, I... If I want you to actually stop, I'll say 'blue.' That's what a safe-word is."

Maul hummed. "And if I don't want to do this?" he asked, curious.

Jesse ground his teeth. "Then we don't."

He looked as if the prospect pained him. Their minds were no longer as deeply entangled as they had been when their bond was first established, but sometimes Maul missed it. The closeness made communication so much easier.

"This is something you want," he noted, watching with fascination as the skin around Jesse's eyes tightened. "Or, it's something you need."

His ver'alor snarled and a bit of frozen gold crept into his irises. "I don't need anything from you."

Which was such a blatant lie that Maul sat back in his chair and silently observed the fuming lieutenant. As a clone and a very sexual Human man, Jesse needed quite a bit, from Maul in particular.

He needed training in the Force. He needed trusted companionship in the absence of his brothers, sisters, and siblings. He needed skin-to-skin contact like he needed food, becoming sullen and aggressive without it. He needed regular sexual release, although he had admitted that involving Maul in the proceedings was merely a heavy preference.

An incident early into their partnership had proven their needs different, and at times incompatible. With their bond stabilized and their minds no longer so entwined, those differences became stark.

Seeking the physical affection Maul had, until that specific incident, been pleased enough to provide, Jesse had stepped right up against his back and pressed their bodies together. One hand had wrapped around his waist while the other crept underneath his shirt and grasped Maul's opposite shoulder. Jesse’s breath had fanned across the back of his neck and the prickling discomfort and irritation that had plagued Maul all throughout that day had solidified.

The rumbling growl had begun deep in his chest and ripped out of his throat with all the implicit threat his instincts could muster. Jesse had gone prey-still.

Slowly, so as not to startle him, Jesse had released his waist and removed his hand from Maul's skin, then put a careful distance between them.

"Sorry, vod," he'd said after a long silence, the two of them getting their bearings. "Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Maul had managed to force through gritted teeth that he didn't want to be touched at that time and the incident passed with some adjustment. Ever since, Jesse had brushed a questioning tendril across Maul's mind before initiating such contact. With this in mind, Maul knew that if he declined Jesse's request, that would likely be the end of it.

"Would late afternoon tomorrow be acceptable?" he finally said. "I have a meeting with Dryden Vos, which will no doubt be tedious."

Jesse's nose wrinkled at the mention of his least favorite of their figureheads, but the tightness around his eyes lessened. "Yeah, should be good."

Yes, the request was clearly something that Jesse needed quite badly.

.

To Maul's surprise, he entered Jesse's quarters after the meeting to find the room soaked with desperate, frustrated lust. He had clearly underestimated the severity of Jesse’s need, if he’d foregone any foreplay in favor of, in his own words, slicking himself up.

“Kriffing finally,” his ver’alor growled, tossing a scrap of clothing that he’d apparently saved for Maul’s appearance at his head. Ignoring the annoyed flick of Maul’s fingers to dislodge the fabric from his horns, he jerked his chin. “Harness is over there. Now, please come over here and fuck me.”

Rolling his eyes at the impatience, Maul stalked over to the indicated table and began to undress.

He could feel the spike of interest as he carefully folded his shirt and placed it aside. Jesse had once admitted that sexual preference in clones tended towards highly individualized species, had called Maul’s markings ‘tooka-nip.’

Maul focused on the feeling of Jesse’s arousal as it brushed against his mind, rather than the awkwardness and indignity of figuring out the aforementioned harness. He knew he was more sensitive to perceived derision than Jesse deemed ‘strictly healthy, by Kix’s standards’; if he allowed himself to become distracted by his insecurities, his already-simmering temper would lash out.

He also rolled his eyes at the red and black markings on the toy that Jesse had selected for his use. “Cute,” he muttered, fiddling with everything to make sure it was properly settled.

“Hot,” Jesse corrected from his place on the bed. “Very hot. Are you going to make me beg first or something?”

Maul sighed and made his way over to the bed. “No, I believe you requested that happen later in the proceedings.” He cast a critical eye over what he saw and could admit that the sight of Jesse splayed across silken sheets was evocative.

The lieutenant had gained weight since coming to Dathomir, his body eagerly hoarding fat and muscle at the slightest opportunity, and the way his warm brown skin stretched across both was pleasing. As was the flush of blood across various aspects of his anatomy as his fingers began twisting among the sheets, becoming more and more worked up the longer Maul did nothing to further his aims.

“Please,” he whined, panting and watching him beneath hooded eyes, his pupils blown wide. His hard-earned shields dropped a bit, letting Maul feel how desperately he wanted this, wanted him.

Swallowing a sudden rush of saliva, Maul carefully crawled between Jesse’s legs and braced himself above his ver’alor. “Is there anything else you need?” he asked, thinking of the little research he’d done that morning before Dryden Vos’ arrival.

“I—” Jesse began, swallowing thickly. “Pin my wrists, too.”

Maul hummed, unsurprised. “And we already know you like my voice,” he prompted. “Is there anything you’d like me to say?”

The blush across his cheeks really was quite beautiful, even if he was avoiding Maul’s gaze. “Nah, nothing—nothing in particular.”

“I see... Would you like me to fuck you now?”

For all his uncharacteristic shyness, the tease met its mark and Jesse leaned up to bite at Maul’s mouth with a silly little growl. Maul let him control the kiss and reveled in his groan as he guided the toy inside his body.

He spent a few moments testing how best to move, keeping a careful eye on how Jesse reacted to each thrust. While he had memories of Jesse’s memories to draw from, he had no practical experience of his own. That suddenly, with the lieutenant squirming beneath him, seemed an oversight. In fact, it was surprising that Jesse had waited this long to ask for it.

“Is this what you want?” he asked lazily, one hand tilting Jesse’s hips to see what difference it made to his enjoyment and the other braced above their heads to keep him steady. “Is this what you need?”

“Ngh,” Jesse eloquently replied. “S’good.”

“But... not quite?”

His head thrashed from side to side and a leg curled up his side, letting Maul sink deeper into his body. “Harder,” he gasped, “fuck me harder.”

Fairly confident now, Maul snapped his hips and watched avidly as Jesse’s lips parted. He did it again, and again, and Jesse groaned and reached up to drag him down for another kiss. Feeling generous, he allowed it for a moment before catching his wrists and pinning them above above his head.

Jesse broke away, seemingly unable to catch his breath, and carefully tested Maul’s grip. He tightened it into something that must be painful and felt a ripple of pleasure all his own at how the lieutenant melted beneath him.

He continued fucking him carefully, increasing the force behind each thrust only marginally, until he reached what Jesse was after.

The bed, a sturdy thing made to last, shuddered against the wall when Jesse’s moans turned to whimpers. Curious, Maul moved farther up the bed, bending Jesse nearly in half and increasing the weight on his wrists. The choked noise of pain and pleasure he got in response was gratifying, but the garbled sob of “stop” gave him pause.

Jesse often mocked his obsessive need for dominance but hurting him in such an intimate manner was not something from which Maul derived pleasure.

He leaned down and pressed his mouth to Jesse’s throat. “If you want me to stop, you say ‘blue,’” he reminded, then snapped his hips and sank his teeth into the yielding flesh. He could feel Jesse’s shout even more than he could here it.

Maul mentally grimaced and prepared for Jesse to say it, but did not stop. He worked his jaw so that he was nearly chewing on his lover, and the change in position made it difficult to truly thrust, resulting in sharp hitches of his hips that... certainly garnered a reaction. The cries turned quickly to crying, which tested his resolve nearly to its breaking point.

Jesse was strong and fierce and sure; it was a tad distressing to know that his actions were the cause of his tears, his shuddering sobs, the way he strained desperately against Maul’s hold. But this, he continued to remind himself, was what Jesse asked for.

“Please stop, please, Maul, I’ll be good, I swear, please...”

Disconcerted, Maul released one of Jesse’s hands, keeping it immobilized through the Force, and trailed his fingers down his chest to wrap around his cock. He would hopefully be content to stop after he came. Fortunately, Maul was well-versed in wringing as orgasm out of his lieutenant with his hands, and as worked up as he already was, it didn’t take long.

He slowed his thrusts and eased the bite into only the presence of his teeth as Jesse came between them, acutely aware that the overstimulation would be uncomfortable to painful. Somehow, he was unsurprised when Jesse, face covered in saltwater, made an inarticulate noise of protest.

With a deep breath, Maul resumed his previous pace, each thud of the bed against the wall suddenly making him wince.

Jesse’s pleas did not change in pitch, but content. “Please, please, fuck, oh fuck, fuck me please, Maul, fuck me, please, fuck, fuck please Kix—”

Startled, Maul’s hips stuttered, and the damage was done.

“Ah, fuck,” Jesse yelped, his voice full of something Maul couldn’t identify. “Fuck, Maul stop, blue.”

Immediately, he stilled and released his hold on the lieutenant’s wrists.

“Would you like me to—”

“Yes, please,” Jesse hiccupped, covering his face with one hand. He didn’t react when Maul pulled fully away, nor when he left the bed to remove the harness and put everything aside for cleaning later.

Unsure, Maul reached out and brushed Jesse’s mind like a question. The response was another shield-drop, which revealed a swirling morass of emotion that Maul lacked the emotional literacy to fully understand. Grief was easy enough to identify, but there was also a great deal of something that tasted like a relative of shame, and a strange dullness creeping along the edges of everything.

Maul steeled himself and ran his tongue over his teeth before turning to face him.

Jesse hadn’t moved much, his legs still brace against the bed, showing off the bruises forming along his hips, the backs of his thighs, around his wrists. The bite mark lacked any ounce of subtlety—a hair’s breadth from bleeding, it was far too high and prominent to be hidden by any clothes of theirs, and spectacular bruising would no doubt bloom around the imprints of his teeth.

Covered in marks and splattered with his own come, Jesse looked like he’d been ravaged. Maul wasn’t sure how much pride he was supposed to take in that, nor how much regret. The longer he stood apart, trying to piece together what he was meant to do, the more pronounced the minute trembling that Maul had taken as exhaustion became.

Jesse’s breath hitched visibly and he at once felt superfluous.

“Ah. Should I. Do you want me to touch you?” Maul asked, completely at a loss.

“Yes,” Jesse gasped, with that terrible, watery tone that meant he was crying again. “Yes. Please. Touch me.”

Clear instruction given, Maul strode back over and settled along his side, careful not to settle between Jesse’s legs again. Hesitating, he slid one arm underneath his shoulders, then huffed out a breath when he arms were suddenly full of quaking clone.

“Pet me,” came a falsely-imperious order, muffled by the meat of his shoulder. When Maul obliged, stroking his free hand down Jesse’s spine, the lieutenant shuddered and sniffled. “Tell me I did a good job.”

“You did very well, ver’alor,” Maul praised immediately. “Such a... good job. Well done, Jesse.”

Jesse took an unsteady breath.

“Tell me you love me.” The words reverberated between them, leaving no room for thought. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to—I’m sorry. For saying Kix’s name, too.”

Maul frowned, unsure if he wished for the openness of their unshielded bond at that moment or not. “I... don’t see why you should apologize,” he eventually said. “He’s your riduur.”

“And I’m fucking you,” Jesse spat, sounding angry. “I shouldn’t have. I asked you for this and then didn’t even say your name.”

“As I recall, you said my name many times.” He could hear Jesse swallow a whine. “Kix is important to you. I don’t protest his... presence, shall we say, during these proceedings.”

“He’s gone,” Jesse whispered.

“Lost, not dead. Out of our reach but for the moment. We’ll find him.” Still unsure what Jesse needed, Maul tightened his grip around his shoulders and continued stroking a firm hand up and down his back. “Did you get what you wanted?”

“I—”

Jesse rolled over, out of Maul’s arms, and flung an arm over his eyes. “Yes,” he muttered, sounding put out. “You were fucking me perfectly and then I karked it up—”

“I don’t see how saying Kix’s name is any different from talking about Alpha-17 while I’m pleasuring you with my mouth,” Maul said glibly.

The following silence was telling.

“That happened once,” Jesse said, sitting up to glare at him, “and you asked.”

Maul shrugged, unconcerned with such trivialities. “Will you want to do this again?” he asked and took his answer from the way Jesse immediately looked away. “Do you... want this to become a regular addition to our usual activities?”

“No, I—” His lieutenant scrubbed a hand over his face, grimacing at the discomfort of dried salt water. “I don’t need it very often, I just. Feeling cooped up, is all. Think I wanna take you up on that offer to take on some more responsibilities for the Collective.”

He said it like a challenge, like Maul wasn’t fascinated by his mind and the way he conducted business.

“That sounds very fine,” he said and bridged the gap between them to press his mouth against Jesse’s cheek. “And you? You’re well?”

Jesse blinked big brown eyes at him and smiled softly. “Yeah, vod. I’m good.”

“Good.”

He waited until his ver’alor had relaxed once more, confident that any missteps had been addressed, then pressed his lips to his ear.

“And Jesse? Since you asked. I believe I do.”

Prejudge

Professor!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: Nothing I can think of (?) If you find something, send me a message.

Prompt / Summary: Bucky just learned a lesson: You have to ask before you make assumptions. 

Note: So, I learned something with this, Peter’s mom’s maiden name was Fitzpatrick. Also, I wanted to make this one since what feels like forever. Btw, isn’t Sebastian Stan the loveliest? If there is a mistake or something you can totally tell me so we can fix it! :)

2.40 pm

'God be damned, I'll totally be late, again.' Y/n thought as she saw how many slides were left for the class to end.

Usually she wouldn’t mind staying a little longer to finish a class, especially if it was the last of the day; but now, with her nephew Peter under her wing, a lot of things changed, sadly, her school schedule wasn’t one to change.

 At 3.15 pm Dr. Banner let the students go home. He was very passionate about the subject he taught, and Y/n appreciated that a lot… just not at that moment. As fast as she could, she put her laptop, books and bottle of water in her backpack and ran to her car.

 Finally, after what felt like years, she arrived to Peter's school at 3.45 pm. Earlier than the last time at least. Still in the car she set her eyes to the building's main entrance and started to worry when she realized Peter was not there. Rapidly she got out of the car.

'No, no fucking way' 'He knows he is supposed to wait for me here' 'Oh no, where could he be?'

 Before she could start losing her mind somebody cleared their throat. "Excuse me, are you here for Peter Parker?"

Y/n jumped as soon as the woman finished her question. "Yes, yes, I'm here for him! Do you know where he is?"

She could swear that she saw pity in the woman's green eyes "Yes, he is in Professor Barnes' classroom."

Relief washed all over the young girl's body "Awesome, could you lead me there?"

"Yes" the mature woman in front of her looked rather uncomfortable, but Y/n had no mind at that moment to pay attention to that.

 The lady walked her through corridors with open doors at the sides, which made the young doctor self-conscious; all the kids were already home, maybe doing homework or playing, and her nephew was stuck here because she couldn’t arrive at time.

 Before she could start self-destroying herself both women arrived to a corridor with a closed door in its left wall.

“That’s Professor Barnes’ classroom, knock before entering.” And with that the woman turned around and left; leaving an alone Y/n to her devices.

 Without thinking too much, the girl knocked the door twice and waited till a rough voice inside told her to come in. Upon opening the door, her eyes found Peter and she got to her knees and extended her eyes.

 “Kiddo! I finally found you!” As soon as her mouth opened, Peter ran to her arms, and the so called ‘Professor Barnes’ set his eyes on her.

“Y/n!” The kid yelled.

“Bloody hell Peter! I was so worried kid.” She told him, separating from him to put her hands on his shoulders.

“But I’m okay!” He said with a happy smile. “And I already finished homework!”

“That’s awesome dude!” She stroked his hair, then turned to the Professor, who got up from his chair. “Thank you for taking care of him while I was busy Mr.-” She left the sentence incomplete, hoping he would introduce himself. The older man didn’t smile.

“While you were gone you mean.” Any trace of a smile erased from the girl’s face.

“Go-” ‘Gone?’ she wanted to ask.

“Mrs. Parker, a word please” He interrupted her, and before she could tell him that ‘Parker’ wasn’t her last name, but Fitzpatrick, he passed next to her through the door and waited for her outside.

“Pack your things okay?” She tried to smile for the boy, and got up, walking outside the classroom and closing the door behind her.

 “Yes sir? What did you need?” She asked, without her usual smile, but with a polite voice.

“Mrs. Parker, if you didn’t have time for a kid, you shouldn’t have had one” He told her, the roughest voice she had ever heard.

“Come again?” She asked surprised. How could he talk to her like that?

“Look Mrs. Parker, let’s not play pretend, this is the 10th time in this month that you arrive late, today was the 5th  time Peter didn’t have anything to eat at lunch, and the 8th he has fallen asleep at my class, and that’s only talking about my class.” He said, his blue eyes piercing through her soul. She felt bad, but there was little she could do to change what was happening.

 She arrived late because she had classes at the exact same moment Peter got out of school; those three times he went to school without lunch were because they were short of money, or because the bar she worked at couldn’t pay her sooner; and the constant tiredness of Peter was because of the nightmares that didn’t let him, and her, sleep at night. She knew that, this wasn’t her fault, she was trying everything in her power to make this work, even giving him her lunch and staying hungry herself. She knew that. She knew she was doing her best. He didn’t. But at that moment she was left speechless.

 “I- I” She tried to defend herself.

“I, I and only I. That’s the point Mrs. Parker, you have to think about him, not you!” He yelled at her, his impeccable and always in place brown hair getting messy with the sharp movements he made. “Look, Mrs. Parker, we don’t want this to go any further, right? So, I suggest you to start taking better care of your kid, the scholar year has just started, if this situation stays the same, I’m afraid I’ll have to call my superiors and if be needed child support.”

If his scream didn’t scare her, the threat of calling child support did. Y/n was so close to cry in front of him, but she took a deep breath and looked him at the eyes. “I get it sir; is there anything else you would like to discuss?”

Her response made him want to yell at her, but an opening door and a sweet voice stopped him.

“Y/n are you done? I want to go home.” Peter chimed in their conversation.

“Yes Peter, I am, let’s go home.” The girl smiled at him, and without glancing at the teacher, she took the boy’s backpack in one hand and his hand in the other, and the two of the walked back to her car.

   Something James Barnes always prided himself of was his ability to observe the kids around him, and if it was necessary to put their parents in place. He could be the sweetest to his children, who often called him “Professor Bucky” or simply “Bucky”, but he could be the devil in person with the parents that didn’t take proper care of their children.

 Peter Parker had been by far his favorite student, the little boy was so intelligent, it scared him sometimes; he knew a lot of fun facts, he was especially good at math and natural sciences; Bucky though he could be a doctor with all his knowledge in the human body, but the boy often told him that, that wasn’t for him.

 Anyway, the little boy was so dedicated and passionate that he often found himself and the boy discussing a certain topic seen in his class during lunch break; that’s how he noticed that sometimes the boy didn’t have food to eat, or that sometimes he was so sleepy he would stare at some point in the distance and fall asleep.

 Bucky felt so mad at Peter’s parents, that it didn’t matter to him that Peter’s mother was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, or that she seemed indeed worried about him. No. He was so mad because she and her husband couldn’t give Peter the proper love and care that he deserved. And now that he thought about it, she was way too young to know what she was doing. And that made him angrier. Anyway, it didn’t matter anymore, for usually when he talked to the parents everything went better.

 Except this time, it didn’t.

 The day after the “talk” with his mother, Peter missed school.

 And the day after that, he arrived with a frown in his face and sat at the back of the room. He made no sound in all day, nor did he share fun facts or answers with the rest of the class, and at lunch break he took his things and without sparing a glace to Bucky walked out of the classroom with his friend Ned. He was picked up at three o’clock sharp by that woman he was now starting to dislike. Did she told Peter not to talk to him anymore? Had she hurt him to make Peter ignore him? Was she making Peter’s life a living hell? Is that why he missed school and was in a bad mood? The doubts made Bucky’s head ache. He needed to talk to Peter to know why he was all moody.

 Next day arrived, and Peter did the same: sat at the back and ignored Bucky, he had a frown again. At lunch time Bucky tried to call him, but the boy was already out of the classroom when the bell sang.

 Two more days passed the same, until a faithful Friday after classes, Peter was waiting to be picked up when Bucky told him to go to the classroom to wait for his parents to come for him. Peter looked at him with a mix of anger and hurt, but walked to the classroom anyway and sat at the end of the room. Bucky followed him

 “What is it Peter? Why don’t you talk to me anymore?” Bucky asked with the softest voice he had. Peter had taken out a book that read ‘Anatomy for kids’ and was ignoring him. “I know, why don’t we talk about anatomy? I heard you talking about it with your friend Ned during lunch time the other day.” He said again, smiling.

 “I don’t want to talk with you” The young boy whispered, making Bucky’s smile disappear.

 “Why Peter?” Bucky tried again. Peter mumbled something behind his book that he couldn’t catch. “What did you say Peter?” He asked getting closer.

 “Because you made her cry!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

 “Wha- what do you mean Peter?” Bucky tried to hug him or something but the kid jumped out of his chair.

 “You made her cry! You made auntie Y/n cry! She cried all night and asked me forgiveness one hundred times! She thinks she is a bad aunt because of what you told her, but she is the best thing I have ever had since- since”

 “Since what Peter?” Bucky pushed him further.

 “Since my parents went to heaven” And with that hell broke lose and Peter started crying like there was no tomorrow, Bucky got to his knees and tried to comfort the kid but nothing seemed to work, until the door opened, and the girl he had before confused with Peter’s mother came running to the kid and hugged him.

 She threw her backpack to the floor and Bucky could see medicine books and a stethoscope fly out of the poorly closed bag. Then everything clicked to Bucky, why she was always late, why she looked so young, why Peter never got mad like other kids when she was late. Because she was doing what she could do.

 “Shh, shh, it’s okay my boy, it’s okay. Do you want to talk about it?” She whispered as she rocked him on the floor back and forth in her arms.

 “Aunt Y/n I miss my mommy” The girl’s eyes filled with tears.

 “Me too, kiddo, me too. But you mommy would be so sad to watch you cry. Do you remember that song she used to sing to your dad?”

 “Ye-ah, it-it was pretty.” Peter answered in a whisper, trying to regulate his breath.

 “How does it go?” Y/n made a thoughtful face, and Peter separated from her a little to see her face. “oh yes…  I'll reach my hands out in the dark

And wait for yours to interlock I'll wait for you I'll wait for you

'Cause I'm not givin' up I'm not givin' up, givin' up No, not yet Even when I'm down to my last breath Even when they say there's nothin' left So don't give up on”

Peter’s eyes shined as he sang too. Bucky still in the floor with them saw how Peter slowly became sleepier and let Y/n carry him to the exit. When she tried to take his and her things, Bucky took them from her and walked behind her to her car, once she laid Peter down in the back seats, and closed the door. Bucky started talking:

“I’m so sorry Miss Parker, I-”

“Y/n Fitzpatrick, but you can call me Y/n. Parker was my sister’s married name… she died some months ago, and now I’m Peter’s legal guardian” She interrupted him, as she opened the trunk, took the backpacks and books from him and threw them in.

“I’m sorry Y/n, if I had known what was going on, I wouldn’t have said that.” Bucky told her, shame and guilt written all over his face.

“It’s okay, I guess I will have to push a little harder to be the tutor Peter deserves” She said looking at the floor ashamed.

“No!” Bucky’s sudden yell made her jump. “You are doing great, Peter talks wonder of you, says you are the best thing that has happened to him since his parents. I told you all those things because I thought you weren’t taking proper care of him… he is such an amazing kid, and now I know that in part because of you, I saw the book he was reading ‘Anatomy for kids’ he most admire you a lot”

The girl smiled “I took him to one of my classes some days ago, he seemed to love it”

“I’m sure he did” It was his turn to smile, and Y/n was awestruck; she knew from the moment she saw him that the man was handsome, with his frown and everything. But here, with a smile on his face, his blue eyes sparkling and the little wrinkles, sign that he smiled often; man, at that moment she thought she was in front of a god. “I’m James Barnes, but my kids call me Professor Bucky, you can call me Bucky too.” Oh, dear God, he called his students HIS children, how heartwarming was that? She knew he was good with kids; he wasn’t Peter’s favorite teacher for nothing. But this, this was beyond lovely.

 “Nice to officially meet you Bucky.” His smile got bigger when he heard her. His name sounded heavenly coming from her lips.

 “Likewise,” And then both adults looked at the floor, speechless. But Bucky wasn’t having none of that, he was going to make it up to her. He cleared his throat. “Would you like to… go to the park? I mean, Peter, you and me. I have a lot to make up for.”

 “You have nothing to make up for, really, I get that you were trying to help Peter.”

 “Well maybe I don’t have to, but I would like to…”

 Y/n didn’t know what to do, she didn’t want to go out with him just because he felt guilty, she didn’t date often, mostly because she had no time, but also because she didn’t want to waste her time in boys that wouldn’t stay around, or wouldn’t understand what her duty was, especially now with Peter by her side. Bucky seem to understand that, but if he really just did that to ease his guilt?

 “Please” He whispered taking her hand and looking straight at her eyes, he seemed honest.

 She was going to accept but a younger voice interrupted her from inside the car “Say yes aunt Y/n. I want to go to the Park” And soon Peter’s face was showing through the still open trunk, his cheeks resting in the back seat, “Please auntie”

 Bucky and the girl laughed “Seems like I am forgiven” He said smiling at little Peter.

 “Just if aunt Y/n accepts to go to the park with us!” Peter exclaimed, but the three of them knew he had already forgiven Bucky.

 “What do you say Y/n? Do you help me earn Peter’s forgiveness?” The blue-eyed man asked her, his eyes shining with hope.

 The girl giggled “You will win him back with an ice cream and a race to the swings” She now realized that they still had their hands entwined.

 “And do you have any tips to win you over?” He stepped closer.

 She squished his hand “That can be discussed later over a coffee, for now let’s go to the park”

 He smiled, she smiled, Peter yelled excited, and the three of them started a story together.

Gene Pool

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Word count: 2917

Prompt: Speaks in a terrible Shakespearean/Elizabethan style to woo/make the other laugh

———————

A loud groaning noise vibrated through the walls of the theater, catching Anne’s attention as she was getting dressed to leave after that day’s evening show. To her left, Aragon wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“They still haven’t fixed those damn pipes?” She said. “Some high quality theater this is.”

“I think it’s fine,” Cleves shrugged. “It’s fun to tell young fans that it’s a ghost.”

“Of course you would do that.” Anne laughed.

“Shall we wait for you?” Aragon asked the green queen, as she and Cleves had finished changing.

“Nah, go without me,” Anne said. “I’ve got some things to do.”

In which, those “things” were cheering up a certain blonde girl.

Anne noticed Joan acting rather stressed and aloof for awhile, but it wasn’t until she spiraled into a panic attack out of nowhere the day before that she finally decided to really do something. She was going to treat the poor music director to a dinner of her choice and just be there for her, and hopefully get the truth of her current state out of her in the process.

“Oh, m’lady!” Anne chirped, prancing into Joan’s dressing room. “Gath'r thy belongings, mine own lief! It’s timeth to wend!”

She stopped in the doorway, noticing that Joan was still in her costume.

The girl didn’t acknowledge her...or maybe she didn’t even hear her. She just remained hunched over her desk. Anne thought she may have been asleep, as she did sometimes nod off, but she saw the subtle twitch of her shoulders and heard the smallest sniff emit from her timid music director.

“The young wench gaveth nay cleareth response.” Anne narrated. She dramatically leaned against the wall. “Ign'r'd by mine own owneth kin! Thee curs'd robe stealeth'r! How couldst thee doth this to me?!”

No response.

Anne pursed her lips and stepped closer.

“Prithee! Doth not doth this to me! Pri— Joan?”

Anne stopped her charade when she heard the tiniest whimper. In an instant, her maternal instincts are kicked in and she sets a hand on Joan’s shoulder, which causes a second whimper to bubble up. Then, Joan is twisting around in her chair and burying her head against her stomach, weeping.

“Anne— Oh, Anne, I-I messed up! I-I thought I could—” Joan’s strange babbling broke off into incoherent sobbing.

“Hey, hey,” Anne wrapped her arms around the trembling girl. “Hey, shh... Shh... It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not!” Joan ripped away. Her eyes are wide with terror. “I-it’s not okay! I-I...”

She looked down at her hands as if they were drenched in blood and broke down into a fresh fit of tears.

“Come here, sweet girl...” Anne gathered Joan back into her arms and held her tightly. She rubs her back comfortingly. “Shh, shh... I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

“A-Annie,” Joan squeaked out. “I-I’m s-so sorry...”

“It’s okay, Joan. You’re allowed to cry.”

“N-no—“ Joan sniffled. “N-not...not about that. About...”

Anne furrowed her eyebrows in concern.

“What?”

Joan leaned back. She’s hugging herself tightly, not making eye contact. Then, her gaze shifts to her desk, and Anne follows.

Joan’s work table is always a mess, but now it just looks like a hurricane had blown across it. Dozens of papers are scattered across the top, and there are several more that are crumpled into balls or ripped or completely shredded. Ink of various colors is splattered on the white wood, staining it permanently. Books are open and leaned against the wall- books about human anatomy and skeletons and body parts.

It takes a moment for Anne to realize that this was not music director work.

“Joan, what’s all this?” Anne asked. She picked up the nearest paper and read it over.

The paper had a crude drawing of a human at the center with notes written all over the sides, several of which were scribbled out, seemingly incorrect. The person had an animal skull over the head, which Anne assumed to be a deer’s. On the top, a few words were written, “Cadaver?? Deer??? Stag??”

“Are you taking up an interest in forensics?” Anne laughed slightly. “Joan, sweetheart, that’s nothing to be ashamed of! Bessie already—”

“No!” Joan cried. “Y-you don’t...” She gripped her forearms tightly and rocked back and forth in the chair. Something was making the poor thing very distressed. “I-I can’t... I can’t hide this from you anymore, can I?”

Anne blinked. She slowly set the paper down and cupped Joan’s tear stained face.

“Joan, baby, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

A few fresh tears slipped out of Joan’s eyes. Anne gingerly wiped them away with her thumb.

“Talk to me, darling.” Anne murmured to her. “Please. I’m worried about you.”

Joan sniffled. She pulled away from Anne and scrubbed at her eyes before standing up.

“Okay,” She whispered. “Do you have any food?”

“Food?” Anne blinked

“Yeah.”

Confused, Anne dug through her purse and pulled out an energy bar. Joan smiled weakly and took it from her, then also swiped a small journal from underneath a pile of papers, causing it to topple over in an avalanche of white.

“Thanks. Come on.”

Anne followed Joan out of the dressing room, down a hallway, and towards a back section of the theater that nobody really went to just because it seemed creepy. And they were right to think that, because Joan opened a set of double doors that were usually always locked with a key she slips out from her back pocket.

“Where are we going?” Anne asked as they walked down another corridor, this one much more rundown and dim.

“The basement.” Joan answered grimly.

“This place has a basement?”

“...Yeah.” There’s anxiety flashing through Joan’s eyes. Anne tried to calm her by placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but it did little to help. “Anne— I-“ The words die. Joan has to think for a moment before she tries to speak again. “I was...alone for a long time before you came along and took me under your wing. I had a lot of time to think. And one thing I could never get out of my head was how we got here. Reincarnation, I mean.”

“Yeah...?” Anne said, not really understanding.

Joan stopped at a staircase that seemingly led into a pitch black void. She spun around to face Anne. An unreadable emotion has replaced the anxiety in her bloodshot grey eyes.

“If we could be brought back to life, could the same happen to other people?” She said. “I— I was so fascinated by this that I started coming up with all these scenarios.” She opened the journal and showed Anne a page scrawled with pictures of humans and skeletons, triangles, beams of light, and other strange symbols. She’s smiling slightly. “I call it the ‘reincarnation theory.’ It’s what I’ve been using as an answer for all of this.” She points to three lightning bolts. “Think of it like Frankenstein. With enough electricity, a person can be revived. But what about a person who’s been dead for five hundred years?”

Anne wasn’t sure how to answer that, but Joan wasn’t looking for a reply.

“And do they have to be important? Like you and the other queens! Perhaps you being here is the ‘electricity’ that me and the ladies in waiting needed to come back. So would that work with other people, too? Other- other people from our time? People close to us?”

Then, her grin fell. A look of guilt and fear twists her features again.

“I...I haven’t been staying late to work on music director stuff.” She whispered.

Joan spun around and promptly walked down the staircase, nothing bothering to turn on any lights. If there were lights at all.

Anne hesitated, then followed.

“What are you talking about?” She asked. She had never been so confused and unnerved in her life.

Joan doesn’t answer. All she does is look at Anne pitifully, then turns her gaze forward again.

After a few seconds of walking, Joan opens another locked door at the bottom of the staircase, and they step into a nearly pitch-black room. The only light inside was a furnace-like piece of machinery in the back, which glowed a soft orange color. It seemed to be a boiler room of sorts.

“Joan...” Anne whispered warily.

She quickly realized why Joan hadn’t been speaking.

The low groan of the leaky pipes rumbled from somewhere in the darkness.

But it wasn’t the pipes.

Anne watched in frozen horror as something slinked out of the shadows. Its greyish skin and misshapen figure was like anything she had ever seen before. Inhumanly long fingers with hooked nails scratched quietly against the cracked tile in front of it. Long, disjointed feet pushed the rest of its scraggly, naked body along. When it raised its head, it had no eyes, just black sockets, and an stubby, elongated nose and mouth, like a bat snout of sorts. Patches of wiry brown hair that seemed more like fur stuck up along the head. It almost looked like a very large hairless dog in a weird sort of way.

The thing crawled on all fours out of the darkness, sniffing loudly as it went. Then, it jumped up, nearly making Anne run out from the scare of the jarring movements, and perched on a low hanging pipe. It extended a bony hand towards the pair, making loud noises as it waved it in the air. Joan gently squeezed the hand and then let the creature feel her head and face. It seemed to recognize her that way and let out a delighted hum, leaning over to nuzzle her cheek.

“Hey, Johnny Boy,” Joan murmured, smiling softly. “Sorry I’m a little late.”

“Joan—” Anne choked out. She’s backed up to the doorway, ready to run. “What the fuck?”

“Anne-” Joan whirled around to face the queen. The creature above her head began to growl. It sounded like when a human tried to imitate a dog, which made it that much more terrifying. “Please don’t run.”

“What the fuck?” Anne whispered again. Her eyes don’t leave the thing sitting on the pipes like a jungle bird.

“Anne, listen to me,” Joan said. She walked forward and took Anne’s hands. “You— You have to let him smell you. Or else he’ll think you’re a threat and—” She broke off.

“And what?” Anne asked fearfully.

“You...don’t want to know.” Joan said grimly. “Now please. I promise he won’t hurt you if you do this.”

Anne looked at Joan, searched her eyes for the same malicious glint Henry had in them when he sent her to his death, but found nothing. The girl was genuinely trying to help her.

Tentatively, on wobbling knees, Anne took a step forward. Joan helps her along, keeping on hand on her elbow and the other on her wrist. They slowly approach the creature on the pipes.

“Hey, Johnny,” Joan murmured sweetly. The creature turns its head in her direction, rumbling in acknowledgment. “I have a friend here to meet you. Her name is Anne. You remember Anne, don’t you? The queen?”

The creature chuffed in recognition.

Anne’s hand is held out to it and it sniffs her gingerly. Then, it leans forward, fingers and toes curling around the pipe for stability, and begins to smell the rest of Anne. It took everything in Anne not to run away when it feels her facial features and hair with one of its cold, bony hands.

“See?” Joan said to her, smiling in relief. “Was that so hard?”

“I-I don’t... I don’t understand.” Anne whispered.

“I’m not expecting you to,” Joan said. “This is my brother. John. I tried to bring him back when the loneliness became too much and it...kinda worked.”

“Why does he look like that?” Anne asked, earning an offended snort from John. “Sorry.”

“I...I don’t know.” Joan admitted. “I’ve been trying to figure that part out. So...I’ve been...testing more...”

Anne’s breath caught in her throat.

“Oh, Joan, no-”

A clicking noise cut her off. She slowly looked over her shoulder into the darkness of the boiler room and searched the shadows. It took her a moment, but she eventually found what had been mimicking the sounds The Predator would make.

It lunged out at Anne, screeching inhumanly. Anne screamed, too, as she’s knocked back against the wall. The thing was clinging to her body, nails pressed into her shoulders and thighs as it raised above her hand and-

“Juana, stop!!”

Joan shoved the creature away and it toppled backwards. Its long brown limbs flail widely in the air before it manages to roll over and back away on all fours, arching its bony spiny up like a cat.

The thing is humanoid like John, but not as bony, has darker skin, similar to Aragon’s tone, with a yellowish-bronze tint, and its legs are more noticeably hock-jointed. Its shoulder blades are grotesquely stretched out to inhuman lengths like wings that are waiting to sprout. The tailbone is extended, too, and waved back and forth in the air as some kind of warning. Tufts of something are sprouted along the nape of the neck, collarbone, elbows, and knees. A gas mask is attached to the face, shielding any facial features.

“Will you cut that—” Joan sighed and looked at Anne, who is horrified all over again. “Sorry. Juana is a little cranky sometimes.” She makes sure that’s directed to the creature, who clicks angrily. “Umm. This is Juana. Aragon’s sister.”

“Ara— What?!”

John hisses and Juana clicked when Anne yelled. She quickly shut her eyes and just stared at Joan with wide eyes. The music director anxiously rubs her sweaty palms against her pants.

“I didn’t have anyone else from my life I could test my theory on.” She said. “So...I started using others. Because maybe if I could bring back down siblings then everyone would like me.”

“Joan, that’s— that’s insane!” Anne exclaimed. “Why would you—”

“I don’t know, okay?!” Joan snapped. Tears were brimming in her eyes again. “I don’t know! It was stupid, I get it! But there’s nothing I can do about it now! They’re here. And I can’t just get rid of them. They’re alive, Anne.”

Anne is silent for a moment.

“Who else is here?” She asked quietly.

“There’s four in total.” Joan answered. “Isabel is another.”

“Isabel...?”

“Leigh.” Joan specified. “Kat’s sister.”

From further back in the room, there’s a creaking noise, followed by a low grumbling.

A tall creature with shiny black skin with grey speckles lumbers out of the shadows. It’s so large it bonks its head on one of the pipes, causing it to rear back in surprise before ducking under the oppressive piece of metal. When it gets close enough, Anne could see horn-like formations curling out of the top of the bald head. The only facial features it has is solid, piercing blue eyes.

“Here she is.” Joan said. “Isabel, this is Anne. She’s Kat’s cousin.”

Isabel tilted her head slowly, almost like a dog. She lifted one of her clawed hands, which is as big as Anne’s face, and tentatively touched one of Anne’s spacebuns. She makes a low cooing noise and then waved her head to look at the other two malformed reincarnated creatures nearby.

“Are they...in pain?” Anne asked. “Does this hurt them?”

“I don’t think so,” Joan answered. “They aren’t bad, I just— I messed up.” She lowered her head. “I want to help them, I just don’t know how and I-I keep making it worse. I can’t bring them out because-“ She gestured vaguely for the trip. “You know…” She raised a hand and Isabel pressed her cold, black cheek into it. “But...they’re my friends.”

John clambered across a pipe and leaned over to nuzzle Joan’s temple with his bat-like snout. Joan smiled weakly and gave him the energy bar she had gotten from Anne. His empty sockets widen when he realizes what’s being offered to him and he snatches it up, devouring the treat with the wrapper still on.

“You have to tell the others.” Anne said.

“What?!” Joan looked at her, startled. “N-no! I can’t! Do you know how they’ll react? Especially Aragon! This— this is basically black magic!”

“They can’t arrest you or anything for it.”

“But they can shun me!”

“They deserve to know!” Anne argued.

She was getting angry. Joan knee she shouldn’t have told her.

“No, they don’t!” Joan cried. Her tears spill over. “Why don’t you deal with your family member before you tell me what to do with theirs!”

Anne froze. Her eyes go wide. There’s a low, but harmless and curious growl from the darkness behind her.

“Wh...what?”

Joan sniffled and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. John hangs over her head, and she can hear Juana and Isabel’s claws clack against the tile floor as they stand behind her, watching Anne.

“I told you there were four.” She mumbled hoarsely.

Anne was frozen for a tense half second before she slowly turned around and watched as a humanoid with a deer skull head, the thing from the drawing on Joan’s desk, stepped out of the shadows towards her. It tilts its head like a puppy and the bony jaws open up in a small smile.

“Anne... This is George.”

Tears start to rapidly fall down Anne’s cheeks.

“Your brother.”