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blairsanne · 1 year

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Boonies - 2 - Domestic

For the @deanobingo 2023 event!

Part 1 here

Prompts: Will Johnson - Masturbation, Chest fur - Dimples, Cleaning up a mess.

Wanted - Will Johnson x female Reader 3562 words

Summary: Will spends the day tearing out your old fence despite still having some questions about what kind of person you are. Things get a little hot and heavy, and Will ends the night unsure once again.

CW: 18+ Alcohol consumption, discussion of potential acts of violence, masturbation.

Will woke slowly, the scent of hot coffee mixing with the slightly dusty, soapy aroma of the sheets. He looked around the small room and remembered where he was; an unintentional guest to a strange foreign woman he couldn’t suss out.

You hadn’t murdered him in his sleep, which was promising, though his brain immediately began running through hypothetical scenarios that weren’t likely to come to pass.

He cleaned up in the ensuite, giving himself a good look in the mirror. It had been a rough few days before landing on your property, and a strange and confusing day once he had. He felt stronger after some solid meals and plenty of rest, and he was less on edge now, despite your uneasy parting the night before.

He smacked his cheeks, psyching himself up to face you again, then got dressed and followed the smell that promised a welcome dose of caffeine down the hallway.

While he made his way, limping just slightly as he favored his uninjured leg, he saw you walk into the dining area carrying a thick book in front of you in a strange way, eyes cast down ahead of you.

He slowed his approach to see what you were doing. Hiding in the doorway, he watched as you carefully positioned the book before letting it fall to the floor with a thud. You yelped, but stepped on top of it, smooshing it back and forth on the floor.

“Not a good read?” he quipped, trying not to laugh.

You turned, face contorted and eyes wet. “I really hate spiders.” You picked up the book and presented the guts-smeared cover of the dictionary to him.

He laughed then. “That’s disgusting.” “I know, they’re so gross,” you whined.

He shook his head, thinking that wasn’t what he meant, but let it go as you went about cleaning off your book.

“Bad luck living out here, then.” “I’m working on it! I barely freaked out this time,” you argued defensively as you went to put the book back on the shelf.

You stepped into the kitchen proper to pour yourself some coffee, automatically pulling out two mugs.

“Did you sleep alright?” you asked lightly, trying to put the awkwardness of your last conversation in the past, though you felt the tension undercutting your interaction.

He stepped into the room and made his way to the counter to lean against it, facing you. He ran his tongue over his teeth, nodding.

“Yeah, ta. Much better than the coop.”

You couldn’t look him in the eye, remembering how you’d hurt him. “Good. Rest is important when you’re healing.”

You prepared his coffee the same way he’d requested the day before and passed it to him without ceremony before preparing your own.

Will watched you quietly, finding this side of you in stark contrast to the threatening, fearless tone you’d held the night before.

“Right. Need to heal quickly so I can get out of your hair.” You frowned. “That’s not what I’m getting at.”

He winced, realizing you’d taken offense. “I didn’t mean to- Sorry. I appreciate the help.”

“I’m sorry too.” You glanced over at him as you took a tentative sip of your drink. “About last night. I shouldn’t have hurt you like that, but-” You huffed. “Well I let you into my home and then you sort of threatened me.”

Will nodded. “No, I deserved it,” he agreed, voice soft and low with regret. “You’ve been awfully generous, and I shouldn’t be rude like that-” “It’s fine,” you interrupted. “I get what you were trying to say. It’s good to be careful. Thanks for worrying over me.”

There was a tense moment as you both assessed the other to see if there was any threat left between you. Will knew he had the advantage in size and weight, so he forced himself to relax his shoulders.

“Seems like maybe I don’t need to.” There was a twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes as he smiled. “Spider killer.”

You snorted and shook your head, then took a long drink of your coffee.

“So…” You shifted, and Will picked up on your nerves. “Since you’re staying-” You glanced at his expression briefly, hoping he wouldn’t argue. “I should let you know that I’ll be out at the market tomorrow. You’re welcome to come. Or not. Whatever you like.”

He sucked in a breath, narrowing his eyes at you teasingly. “You’ll leave me all alone? What if I make off with your chickens while you’re out?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you understood that he was once again chiding you for trusting him. “I’ll send Pete after you. Figure with your bum leg, you won’t get too far. Plus the chickens are unruly.”

Will nodded, grinning as he played along. “Fair dues.” He sipped his coffee. “So you’re going shopping?”

“No, no. I have a table. To sell preserves and eggs and whatever-” you waved your hand dismissively, though his brows raised in interest. “It’s just a weekly farmer’s market, so it’s a few hours in the morning and then I’ll be back. But I thought it would be rude to just go without telling you, or inviting you, so… yeah.”

So yeah, Will thought, amused by your behaviour once more, though confused how you were the same person who’d stared him down after grabbing at his infected wound.

“Can I ask you something?” he hedged, narrowing his eyes.

You swallowed, once again noticing how handsome he was, his scrutiny making you squirm. “Mm, shoot.”

“When you grabbed my leg… What were you planning on doing if I attacked you in return?”

You held his gaze as you took a sip of coffee. “If I told you that, I’d lose the element of surprise. You’d know how to counter me.”

“I could do that anyway.” “Oh?”

It was almost alarming how casually he replied, voice soft despite the topic at hand.

“Sure, I could have pushed you to the floor; pinned you down. I’ve got rope and knives in my pack. I could have gone into your room while you were sleeping; you wouldn’t have even seen it coming.”

He shrugged, as if to imply those were just a few examples off the top of his head; and in truth they were. He’d ruminated for hours on how to take you out if he needed too.

You nodded slowly, never looking away as he spoke. “Sure.”

His brow furrowed at your cool demeanor.

“But, you know, Will… There’s a difference between things you could do and things you would do.”

He licked his lips and shifted, gripping the counter behind with one hand. “You don’t think I would hurt you.”

“Do you?” “Sort of depends?” “On?” “If you gave me a reason?”

He swore the smile you flashed him then was flirtatious. “Better not give you a reason then.”

“Or you might drop a book on me?”

You snorted, then turned to your cupboard, pulling out various supplies. “Nah, I only kill unwanted houseguests.”

“You’re saying you want me?”

You were happy not to be facing him, sure that an honest answer would be inappropriate. It was really unfair how handsome and charming you found him, considering that he didn’t actually live around here. Might be nice, though.

He caught the smile you gave at his question, but you didn’t reply, instead focusing on whatever internal recipe you were putting together.

Your body language was relaxed now, your back to him as you worked, and he supposed you felt like the conflict had been resolved - though Will wasn’t as sure.

You were hard to read and self-confident, and he wondered if you really could be as dangerous as you’d made yourself out to be; in that moment, you sure didn’t look it. You looked like a harmless housewife measuring flour into a bowl.

He let his eyes wander your form while you weren’t looking. Well, maybe a bit fitter than a housewife.

“I’m making waffles,” you announced. You turned to look at him over your shoulder. “You hungry?”

A slow smile brought out his dimples before he nodded. “Starved.”

Soon you were sitting across from him once again at the dining table, stealing glances at him while you ate and spoke. He was telling you about Dunedin, but you were distracted by thoughts of running your hand through his scruffy beard that he kept scratching at.

“And then there’s the tours, of course. Could take you hunting.” He looked up from his nearly-cleaned plate and winked.

You let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Not sure how fruitful that would be. I’m useless with guns.”

He smirked. “So are most tourists. That’s what the guide’s for.”

You could imagine it easily; some haughty suit going out on a hunting trip to brag about to the boys back home, only to have Will do the actual hunting. Or him wrapping his arms around you to help you aim the gun, his warm body pressing against your back…

“Hm. Sounds like fun.” “Can be,” he nodded, putting his fork down after finishing his meal. “Plus it pays the bills.”

You nodded. His lack of a nine-to-five explained why he wasn’t in a bind to get back to Dunedin by any particular day, and how he was able to go trekking in the wops without concern until he was injured.

Maybe he could just stay here and be eye candy…

Will brushed his hands off against each other and looked at you expectantly. “So, where do you want me?”

You choked a bit, then looked at him with confusion. “Sorry?”

He smiled, guessing internally at what you thought he’d meant. He would have been happy to indulge any prurient suggestions, but was trying to be respectful.

“I’m eating you out of house and home, figure you should put me to work.”

“Right.” He can’t sit still.

“Your fence needs heaps of repairs. And there’s still loads of wood to chop in that shed.”

“Honestly, Will, whatever you feel like doing. Help yourself to tools and supplies and have at ‘er. Just don’t mess up your leg, deal?”

“You’re just giving me free reign? That’s risky.” “Why? You gonna make the fence worse? That might actually be impressive.”

He laughed. “What if I hurt myself again, eh? For all you know I’m very clumsy.”

You doubted that. His fitness level and the intensity in his eyes at times definitely indicated otherwise, as did his supposed hunting prowess.

“You strike me as pretty careful, actually.”

He gestured at his injured leg. “And yet here we are.”

“Hey, I’m perfectly happy to loaf around on the couch with you. You’re the one who wants to be put to work.”

He squinted, tilting his head as he stared at you, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“What?” “You’re an odd chick.”

You laughed brightly, then nodded as you got up. “You have no idea.”

Later that day, you stepped out your back door to see Will a ways off, digging a rotten fence post out of the ground.

Despite the mild weather, he was topless, the afternoon sun glistening off his warm skin and in the soft flaxen curls that decorated it. You watched his muscles ripple with the effort as he finally freed the grey wood from the soil.

He tossed it into a pile, noticing your approach in his peripheral as he did so. He wiped his brow and gave you a short upward nod in greeting.

“Take a break?” you suggested, holding up the tray you were carrying.

“Mean as.”

He followed you to the picnic table nearby, sitting down with a grunt, chest still heaving slightly as he caught his breath.

He grinned as you passed him a cold beer, already open, barely pausing to thank you before taking a long sip from the bottle. It was some foreign brand he’d never seen before, but it tasted perfect.

“You don’t need to work so hard,” you chided him softly, not ungrateful despite your concern that he was overdoing it.

He waved off your comment. “Nah, this is good.”

“If you say so.”

You passed him a bowl of the lunch you’d prepared, then sat down opposite him to dig in to your own.

“What’s this?” he asked, licking his lips at the smell of the strange dish.

“Cheddar and potato pierogies, pan-fried sausage, sauteed onions, and fresh herbs. I like mine with sour cream, but I put yours on the side just in case.”

Will was vaguely aware what a pierogi was, but couldn’t think of a time he’d ever eaten one. He glanced your way to see you putting together a forkful with a bit of everything. “You made pierogies. For lunch.”

“Well, I made them a while ago and froze them. I just cooked them up for lunch.” You looked over to him with a slight pout. “Too heavy? I could whip up a salad if you-”

“No, I just-” He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “I think maybe you’re feeding me too well, considering.” He took a bite of the pierogi and was pleasantly surprised by how comforting it was.

“Considering you’re redoing my fence for fun on a bum leg?” You winked at him before turning your attention back to your meal. “I think we’re square. Besides, you need energy to heal.”

“Or you’re just trying to make me fat so I’ll lay up like you suggested.”

When you laughed, he joined you, relaxing into his seat at the table.

He looked off over the expanse of your land idly as he continued to eat, chest light as he pictured your summers here, picking fruit and chasing the chickens.

You watched him subtly, noting how at ease he looked for once, the sun behind him creating a halo effect around the edges of his unruly, raked-back hair. The stray tips that curled away shone gold in the light, reminding you of warmer weather along with his bared torso. You imagined him on the beach in the hot weather, coming out of the surf in only trunks and smiling at you with those piercing blue eyes and disarming dimples.

He’ll be gone by then.

After dinner, Will excused himself to take a shower.

He’d managed to dig out a large section of the rotting fence, which had gotten him covered in a layer of sweat and dirt. As the water ran over his pleasantly tired muscles, he let out a content sigh. The work had assuaged some of his guilt over staying with you, and taken his mind off of gun and knife fights for a few hours, but alone and naked, other ideas were coming back.

He’d been trying not to be obvious about it, but he’d been taking every opportunity to look at you today; at first out of caution, then increasingly out of carnal interest.

It wasn’t just that you were the only woman around, or that it had been a few weeks since he’d indulged in a quick root to ease his frustrations. There was something about you that drew him in like a flytrap; sweet and enticing, yet dangerous somehow.

He had every faith that you really believed you could handle him if he tried something; and every faith that you were incorrect. Still, that tenacity was attractive in its own way, and he thought back to your charming smile as you’d joked that you shouldn’t give him a reason to hurt you.

But it wasn’t hurting you that he had in mind now. As he imagined his hands on you, it was to peel you out of your clothes; pin your wrists above your head; lift you up against a wall to have his way with you.

He wondered what you’d feel like. Were you the sort to sigh and melt under a man’s touch; soft and weak to the pleasure? Were you ardent? Would you grip at his hair and dig your nails into his skin as he fucked you? Would you scream his name and beg for more?

He gripped his hard dick and pressed his other hand to the shower wall, letting the water cascade over his head as he pumped. It wasn’t as good as being inside someone, but as he imagined your mouth there instead, he still felt the usual build of pleasure, panting heavily as he tried to keep quiet.

He hissed as he felt his need growing, the mental images of having his way with you in various positions all overlapping as his hand moved faster.

“Fuck…” he growled under his breath.

He shut his eyes and pursed his lips to stifle his groan as he found his release, his hot seed painting the shower wall.

Not long later, Will paused in the kitchen doorway, watching as you kneaded dough by hand on the countertop.

You had a tote half-full of various items on the dining table that he assumed was for the market.

“No dessert today?” he teased, stepping toward you.

You turned to see him smiling at you with his hands in the pockets of the robe he had on, your eyes drawn to the fresh bandage he’d put on his leg.

You were starting to get the distinct impression that the man didn’t like wearing clothes. Not that I mind you walking around mostly-naked. You had half a mind to suggest that he didn’t need the robe, but you remembered your manners.

“What do you want for dessert?”

He laughed. “I was just taking the piss.”

You went back to kneading. “I do take requests.”

He walked around to the other side of the counter to face you as you worked. “No need, really.”

“Oh, you don’t like my cooking?”

“God, it’s awful!” he agreed jokingly.

You laughed, and looked up from the dough to see him grinning back at you with his beautifully dimpled cheeks.

“What’s your favourite baked good?” “You don’t have to-” “I can’t ask a question?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, but relaxed, his hands tapping on the edge of the countertop as he thought about it.

“Maybe cinnamon rolls?”

You nodded appreciatively.

“Ah, a classic. Those are pretty simple.”

“So what’s your favourite, then?”

You scrunched your mouth to one side. “Mm… Almond croissant? Anything with marzipan, I’m there. I’m not great with that kind of pastry though.”

Will was surprised that you wouldn’t be excellent at making something you liked, since you seemed to know your way around the kitchen so well. “Practice makes perfect?” he offered.

“True…” You cut the dough in half and placed it into bowls you had prepared. “My dad used to say that anything worth doing was worth doing poorly.”

Will laughed. “That’s an interesting outlook.”

You shrugged and smiled. “He said all sorts of shit, like, ‘If anyone can do it, so can you.’”

Will laughed again.

“Quite the family.”

“Dad was the normal one.” “I think I’m starting to understand you a bit better.”

You laughed.

When you put the dough in the fridge to rise, you dusted your hands off with a tea towel. “Well, I should call ‘er. Early morning.”

Will nodded. “Right.”

Not long later, you laid in your bed in the dark, pulling your duvet tightly around you.

You were cold and tired, and you imagined what it might be like to have Will sharing the bed with you. You were pretty sure that the man slept in the nude, something you didn’t mind the idea of at all. You pictured his strong arms wrapped around you as you used his furry chest as a pillow; how welcoming they’d be on a cold night to keep you warm and cozy.

You sighed and winced.

He has a life in Dunedin.

Meanwhile, Will had gotten up for a glass of water.

He wandered into the dark kitchen and filled his glass at the sink before moving to stand near the back door. He stared out the glass to look over the property in the din. He was proud of the progress he’d made in ripping out the old fence, and his eyes followed the path of where it was meant to be.

Toward the back of the yard, he thought he saw movement.

He rubbed at his eyes, then blinked and squinted at it again.

He felt his heart race as he saw the movement again. A figure weaving through the trees, slow and low.

Will grabbed a knife from the block on the counter, then quietly opened the back door. He flicked on the back porchlight, bathing the yard in light.

The indistinct figure at the edge of the yard darted upright, then turned and ran in the opposite direction.

Will blinked, watching as the figure disappeared into the dark edges of the yard, lost in the black of the rest of your undeveloped property. He fought to keep his breathing calm as he turned off the light and shut the door, locking it immediately.

He debated telling you, but as he peered out into the dark night again, he questioned if he’d actually seen someone out there or if he’d hallucinated it.

He tightened the belt on his robe, and decided to check all the doors and windows before going back to bed.

Part 3 here

A/N: The shower scene was a request ;) Finally posting a continuation of this fic, lol. I do have other chapters partially written already, so please look forward to more of this in the future!

Tags: @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @the-poldarkian @the-butterfly-blues @fortheloveofdurin @spngingerbread21 @feeweeeee @ichoosechoasandbeingqueer @missihart23

As always, please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from a taglist (for everything, for specific characters, etc.)

#deanobingo2023 #will johnson #will johnson fanfic #wanted (2016)#will johnson x reader #will johnson smut

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nolanhollogay · 10 months

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“ everyone else can see it but you. ” + choiwen!

hehe ricky n evie worstieism is something that can be sooo personal <3

also i think this can be seen as a sister piece to this

Having a study period in the library usually worked in Evie's favor. It gave her time to get ahead on her homework, and sketch out possible art pieces. (And play Candy Crush on her phone.) Most importantly, it gave her a chance to terrorize Ricky when his English class had their weekly visit.

Standing over where he sat against a stack of non fiction books, she asked, "When are you going to stop moping and talk to Achilles again?"

Ricky looked up from the book he was reading and frowned immediately. Evie almost smiled at the comical switch in his mood. It was nice to know that he disliked her as much as she disliked him.

"Don't look so excited to me, Bowen," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest."I'm trying to help you here."

He turned back to his book. "I'm trying to learn about food scarcity during the World War here, so if you could stop bothering me that'd be nice."

She snorted. "We both know you're watching Achilles and Auggie like a creep."

The two of them were curled together at a table, whispering conspiratorially about something. Evie could see Auggie's golden hand resting on Achilles jean covered knee under the table. It felt weird - wrong even.

Which was a bit unfair, really. She liked Auggie. He was funny, and goofy, and he always shared his snacks with her in their AP Physics class. But he wasn't Achilles' person, and they all knew that. Even he probably knew that.

Ricky followed her gaze, eyes scanning Achilles' giggling face and the pleased color of Auggie's smile. His eyes shone with hurt, and he bit the inside of his cheek, forcing his gaze back to his book. "I'm not watching them. I'm reading. Whatever they do is not my business."

Evie scoffed. She hated that he was trying to be mature. He should've been fighting harder. "You're acting like such a loser. You're Ricky Bowen, the most annoyingly persistent person in the world. You can't just let some pretty boy steal Achilles from you!"

"Are you.." He was surprised enough to close his book, giving her his full attention. "Are you trying to give me a pep talk?"

She rolled her eyes, squirming under his gaze. His stare was just like Achilles' - wide eyed and intense, entirely too open and easy to read. "Don't make it weird. I just think you shouldn't let Auggie sneak his hot boy fangs into Achilles' neck," - Achilles' was hyperfixated on vampires and it was starting to seep into her brain - "You two have something.. special, and you shouldn't just try to force yourself to move on."

Ricky frowned. "He doesn't want anything to do with me. And I shouldn't ruin whatever he has going on with Auggie. That's unfair to both of them."

"God, you're so - " She cut herself off with a groan. He was annoying. "Everyone else can see it but you. Achilles is so into you that it's a little unbearable at times. You're all he talks about. He had the biggest crush on you for months! No offense to Auggie, but he doesn't hold a candle to what Achilles feels for you." She kicked him in the knee, to offset the sort of fond look he was giving her. Freak. "So get off your ass and talk to him. Got it?"

She walked away as he groaned in pain over his knee, ignoring the way passion was making her chest feel like it was about to explode. Stupid Ricky Bowen, making her feel good things for him.

#evangaline martinez #evie & ricky #evie asks #my writing #leaf tag 🌿#evie number one choiwen warrior whouda thunk?#nhghsmtmtsu

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whatisthismandoinghere · 1 year

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4, 6, 15 for book ask :)

Thanks for the ask!

4. What sections of a bookstore do you browse?

I usually go for the ww2/history section first and then I just wander around and browse a little bit of everything. Sometimes it depends if I'm looking for something specific or if I'm just looking for fun

6. What books have you read in the past month?

From the Holocaust to Hogan's Heroes: The Autobiography of Robert Clary

Voices From the Dark Years: The Truth About Occupied France 1940-1945

Emergency! Behind the Scene

15. Recommend and review a book

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak!! Oh my gosh this book is so freaking good and nobody ever talks about it. For those of you that don't know it's historical fiction and set in nazi Germany during ww2. Without giving too much away, it follows the story of Liesel who has been adopted and is now living in the fictional town of Molching, Germany. It's so cleverly written and everything from the plot to the characters is just flawless. Does it rip my heart to shreds every single time? Yes. Will I still continue to read it? Absolutely. I cannot give enough praise for this book. It handles the subject of war so well and gives such a different view. Do yourself a favor and go read it.

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somethingqueerisgoingonhere · 2 years

Text

A short hp drabble about Harry’s upbringing

The fire crackles lowly where its embers glow orange through the cracks of the logs. Harry pulls the blanket around him tighter against his chin. There’s a bit of a chill tonight, even with the fire, even with the knowledge that he’s safe, bundled up in the Weasley’s with his friends feet away. Ron’s lost in a game of wizard’s chess against his own set. He knows the chances of him winning are near impossible and yet he hollers with triumph every time he is in a favorable position over his jinxed board. Hermione watches on as he tries to think of his next move. She occasionally offers advice and input much to Ron’s annoyance.

Maybe it’s the cozy atmosphere but Ron suddenly musses out of nowhere, “Dad taught me Wizard’s chess.”

“Did he?” Harry asks.

“Yeah,” Ron says smiling happily, then he barks loudly with laughter, “he actually taught me on a muggle chess board.”

“You’re kidding!” Hermione gasps in delight.

“All my young years I learned on a muggle chess set, Dad reckons it’s why I’m so good at the game.”

“And you’re so humble too!” Hermione says, voice brimming with sarcasm.

Harry laughs at his friends.

“Who taught you chess Harry?” Ron asks, both of them turning their attention to him.

Harry’s caught off guard. “No one taught me, wizard’s chess was the first time I’d ever played chess. Well, any game really.” Harry says quietly.

“What do you mean?” Hermione asks softly.

Harry shakes his head, why would he say that, “the muggles weren’t really into board games.”

“Oh,” Hermione says, though the way she stares at him, Harry knows she sees right through him.

“What’re bort games?”

“Board,” Hemrione says slowly, “it’s just a category to describe certain muggle games.”

Ron looks like Hermione just made it more confusing, his face screwed up.

Harry laughs but it dies in his throat when Ron asks, “What was it like when you were growing up Harry?”

Hermione glances sharply from Ron to Harry, worrying her lip between her teeth.

Harry thinks of the small cupboard, corners cobwebbed and crawling with spiders. The way the dust would swirl and the light pull would tremble as his cousin stomped down the stairs. Harry thinks of long nights in the cupboard sent to bed without supper. Lying awake as his stomach growled and trying desperately to fall asleep to bring his next meal sooner.

He thinks of bony aunt petunia, how she'd scrub the floors raw on her hands and knees. How sometimes he’d catch her staring with such a look of disgust on her face, that it struck him more than an actual hit might. I was the only one to see her for what she was… a freak!

How she’d take sewing scissors to his hair, sawing off chunks with the dull rusted blades. How it felt watching her gather Dudley up in her arms and hold him with all the love she held.

“Harry?” Hermione asks, frowning.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry mate, guess that was a dumb question, the muggles being what they are.”

Harry stays quiet for a long moment, “Sometimes I feel like being there. At Hogwarts. It’s like the first time I’m really getting to be a kid.”

Hermone smiles at him, a little sad, a little bittersweet. She knows a bit, but not the extent of it. He thinks maybe he should tell her, at least more, when it comes up, instead of keeping it under lock and key like he’s used to.

Hermione’s voice is excited when she asks, “What was it like for you the first time you walked through those doors?”

“Well what was it like for you? You’d also never experienced anything like it.”

Hermione thinks for a moment. “I’d never seen anything so grand. I’d read all about it but reading it in a book and experiencing it for yourself are worlds apart.”

“Hm,” Harry hums.

“And when you first found out you were a wizard?” Ron asks, eyes alight with curiosity.

Harry stills. Hagrid entered in the loudest most startling way possible and brought Harry the biggest most life changing news. “I thought, ‘so that’s why you always felt something was missing.’”

Hermione nods, “it’s quite a shock isn’t it?”

Ron groans, “I bet that was exciting, I always knew I was a wizard, I didn’t think anything special of it.”

Harry feels anger burst red hot in his veins and is shocked by the venomous sound of his own words, “because you lucked out enough to grow up loved and happy in a wizarding family.”

The silence is deafening. Harry throws off the blanket, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

He doesn’t, he walks down the hall and out onto one of the small, lopsided balconies of the burrow. Feeling the tightness in his shoulders relax marginally at the rush of cold air that curls around him, he leans on the railing which probably isn’t the best idea considering how it creaks under his weight, and looks out onto the sprawling fields that stretch far beyond the patchwork burrow.

He turns his head when the door he’d come through creaks open and isn’t surprised to find it’s Hermione.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asks, pulling her blanket up tighter around her shoulders and rubbing her hands together under the fabric.

“I’m not, if you’re cold go back inside.”

“Harry,” she sighs, she comes to stand next to him and leans her head on his shoulder, her bushy hair tickling his nose.

“It’s just not easy to hear him complain about what he was given.”

“He doesn’t understand how different it was for you.”

“I would have given anything. Anything. To grow up like him in the wizarding world, always knowing who I was.”

Hermione sighs, “I know. It’s not fair.”

Harry feels tears sting at his eyes at the bitter feeling of how truly unfair it is.

Hermione picks up her head, sliding a hand around Harry’s arm, her small hands are warm, her eyes are lost on the horizon too. “Don’t you think…it made you who you are though?”

“Why couldn’t I have been me and grow up in the wizarding world?”

“What I mean Harry, is it made you strong, even if it hurts, even if it cuts so deeply, you wouldn’t be who you are if you hadn’t grown up how you had.”

Harry frowns.

“You’re stronger because you had to be. Because nobody was going to be strong for you.”

Harry stares at Hermione’s profile, maybe she does know he thinks, without him even having to tell her. She shakes his head at himself.

“It doesn’t change the fact that so much is lost. So much I can’t even mourn because I don’t know what could have been.”

“I don’t think dwelling on that is a good thing,” she says, frowning. “Think of instead what you get to experience now because you’ve never experienced it before.”

Harry gives her a puzzled look.

“Do you remember the feeling of seeing your first chocolate frog move? The first time you walked the grand entrance of Gringotts bank. The endless bewitched sky of the great hall, the first time you rode a broom…” She fixes him with a serious look, “none of that would have meant as much to you had it all already been commonplace.”

Harry feels tension leave his shoulders and he lets his head fall onto Hermione’s. “Thanks Hermione.”

They walk back to the room together, and Harry asks Ron if he can play him next at wizarding chess when he’s finished playing the board. Ron promises him the next game, “as soon as I win.”

“You’re not going to beat an enchanted chess board Ron! Its entire purpose is to beat you!”

“Ye of little faith!”

And Harry will never forget how loud they screamed when Ron roared “check mate!”.

#hp #HarryPotter #Harry Potter #the wizarding world of harry potter #ron weasley #hermione granger #hpfic #hpfanfic

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iguessweallcrazyithinktho · 3 years

Text

𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆𝒏 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒆.....

𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑹𝒀: 𝑩𝑨𝑺𝑬𝑫 𝑶𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑺𝑶𝑵𝑮

𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕:

I want to sit on the kitchen floor eating pizza at 3am with you and talk about our hopes and dreams

𝑮𝑬𝑵𝑹𝑬: 𝑭𝑳𝑼𝑭𝑭

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮: 𝒏𝒖𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈

𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮: 𝑪𝑯𝑹𝑰𝑺 𝑬𝑽𝑨𝑵𝑺 𝑿 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

𝑫𝑶𝑵𝑻 𝑷𝑶𝑺𝑻 𝑨𝑵𝒀 𝑶𝑭 𝑴𝒀 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑨𝑵𝒀𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬 𝑬𝑳𝑺𝑬. 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑶𝑵 𝑾𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑷𝑨𝑫, 𝑨𝑶3, 𝑵𝑶𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬!

𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑹𝑬𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑮𝑺 𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬

-----------

You could feel his eyes on you From across the room. A small smile creeped up on your face as you peered up at Chris from your book. He quickly snapped his eyes from you acting as if he wasn't looking at you. You chuckled. "I saw you."

You shut your book, sitting it beside you. You walked over to him; he was sitting on the couch across from you so it wasn't that far of a walk.

You straddled his waist, the first thing you did was kiss him, your fingers running through his hair. Chris Chuckled softly running his finger over your cheek. "I'm so in love with you." Chris whispered. He looked into your eyes with his blue eyes. His eyes were scrunched from the smile that was on his face. Chris wasn't lying when he said he was in love with you. He's been in love with you for years and he honestly didn't remember a time when he didn't.

To him, you were an angel. He's been waiting years to find you and when he did, god he was on cloud 9. Everything about you was flawless. Your smile, your laugh, your humor, your beauty, everything.

Just like Chris was there for you, you were there for him. Panic attacks, need help with something like killing a spider, cuddles, you both had each other's backs. It was like you both were meant for each other

Chris, He couldn't comprehend a world with you, but he didn't have to worry because a world without you wasn't going to happen any time soon.

"I'm so in love you too." You kissed him again before pulling away with with a chuckle. "So what do you want to do today?" You ran your finger up and down through his hair as you waited for an answer.

Chris sucked in his breath, "um I was thinking we can stay at home, go get in the pool, look up at the stars, and later come in and watch a movie while eating pizza. What do you think love?"

You smiled at him. "I think that's a good idea." You gave him one more kiss before getting off of his lap. "I'll finish reading until later when the sun has settled behind the mountains." You sat back down on the other couch, grabbing your book.

"sounds great babe."

Those few hours flew by in a heartbeat. Before you knew it, you and Chris were in your swimwear and on your ways to the pool.

As you walked outside the cool night air hit you. You shivered as you tiptoed the pool. Chris was right behind you as you waddled into the pool. Just as you imagined the pool way cold too. You weren't planning on staying in it for long though.

Chris got in with you, quickly wrapping his arms around your you. "It's a little cold, but it's very nice." Chris looked up at the sky. "The stars are twinkling, the moon is high in the sky, and I'm with my best gal. Nothing is more perfect." He looked back at you before kissing you.

You pulled away smiling. "I feel a lot warmer when I'm in your arms." You said pressing your head into his shoulder. Chris rubbed his hands up and down your bare back. "Same."

You both stayed like that for a little whil, no words being spoken until you pulled away. You looked up at Chris, he had his eyes closed. "What are you doing Chris?"

Chris opened his eyes, "making a wish." You laughed, "what did you wish for?"

"can't tell you, if I do it won't come true." You raised your eyebrows, "okay." You snuck in a chuckle before you pulled away from him fully, "well I'm going to go back in, it's getting really cold." You turned around climbing up the little ladder.

You wrapped yourself in the towel on the lounge chair and walked inside leaving Chris by himself.

You went straight into the bathroom, discarding your clothes so you can take a shower. Opening the glass door, you turned on the water, wait till it was hot before you got in.

As the fresh warm water ran down your body, you sighed. Your head was empty, you just allowed the water to fall over your body.

Your peace didn't last long; Chris opened the shower door a few minutes later. He was shivering,"is there room for two in here?"

You laughed, moving back so he could join you. He quickly got in under the warm water. "Ahh, that's much better."

You shook your head, a smile on your face. Chris turned to you, "so you want me to lather you up or not?" Chris asked. "Sure, just don't do anything weird."

You picked up your towel and handed it to him. Chris began covering you in soap. He managed to make it none sexual which was nice. Showers with him always ended with doing it.

When he was finished, you returned the favor and soaped him up. Once everything was rinsed off you and Chris got out.

The both of you put on some warm clothes. Chris some sweats and you put on some panties and one of his oversized shirts.

Now you were sitting on the couch, dodgers head in your lap as he slept and Chris who was on the phone with his favorite pizza place.

You watched as he made the phone call in the kitchen. You remembered thinking to yourself he was so handsome pacing back and forth as he talked to the man on the other side of the phone. You thought he wouldn't notice your eyes but he did, and when he looked your way you stared into space like you weren't looking.

"I saw you." He said as he walked over to you. "You saw nothing." You said giving him an angry looked which to Chris was freaking adorable. "Okay fine, I saw nothing." He sat down beside you and gave dodger some pets.

"pizza Will be here in about 30 minutes so we can watch a movie until then." Chris leaned over a grabbed the romote control off the coffee table. "Whatcha wanna watch babe?" Chris asked as he turned on disney plus. "Hmmm, Lilo & stitch."

Chris laughed, "okay." He turned on the film and you both began to watch it.

That lasted for 30 minutes before the doorbell rung. "I got it." Chris got up and went to answer the door.

Dodger lifted his head and looked up at you. "Pizzas here buddy." You said, getting up. Dodger followed you to the kitchen where you pulled out two plates for you and Chris. Chris returned this time with the pizza. He sat it on the counter and opened the box. The amazing smell of pizza filled your nostrils causing you to moan. "It smells so good. I don't think I'm going to make it to the couch."

You sinked down on the floor. Chris looked down at you confused, "what are you doing?" "I'm eating on the floor. Join me, it's great down here." Chris shook his head but joined anyways.

"you're right, it is nice down here." He took a bite of his pizza with a raised eyebrows. You both sat on the floor until you were full. The small conversation you were both having quickly blossomed into a conversation about both of your futures together.

"I would like to live on a farm." You said as you hugged your knees. Chris nodded, "yeah, I always wanted one too." There was a brief silence before Chris spoke again. "Maybe we can have that farm one day. You know when we have kids."

Chris was nervous as he said that. You both talked about kids before but never really went into depts.

"I mean yeah. We can have 3 or 4 kids on a farm with a few chickens, and maybe a goat or cow. But we're just living our best life; I want that." You smiled at Chris. He smiled back at you. "Yeah, I want that too."

You both stayed quiet again before Chris blurted out a few words. "Marry me."

You turned to him shocked but confused. "I'm sorry?" Chris exhaled softly, fully turning to you. "Marry me. I don't have the ring with me now, it's a ma's house, but I really want to spend the rest of my life with you." He reached out and grabbed your hands, "so marry me."

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest, you weren't expecting this at all. "Yes, I'll marry you!"

You chuckled before hugging Chris. Chris felt relived, he thought that was going to be hard but nope, it was simple and he was happy with the outcome.

You pulled away looking at him, "I love you Chris."

"I love you too." Chris took your face and gave you a kiss on the lips. he couldn't wait to make you his.

------------------

Hope you enjoyed, feedback welcome!

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palbabor-writes · 3 years

Text

Practicum

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT/18+ only, unbalanced/unhealthy relationships, student/teacher sex, tw.dubcon, tw.sub/dom dynamics, brat taming, fingering, masturbation, a table is pretty roughed up in this, so pls hold a brief moment of silence for it

Words: 12,857

“So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And...answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Notes: the title was selected because it’s got the word cum in it. ahhh, the things that crack me up. anyhow.

this is part of the BNHA Degeneracy server’s 9 to 5 collaboration! i had a ton of fun participating in this and thank you guys for making this so freaking awesome! special shoutout & thanks to @albinoburrito & @kugutsuu for their beta edits! this was a departure from what i usually write about and i appreciate all of your notes and help!

Practicum prac·ti·cum /ˈpraktəkəm/ noun a practical section of a course of study

It’s your senior year, they said. Live a little, they advised. Stop and take a breather, you’re practically home free! Take some easier classes. Focus on what’s in front of you, it’ll be over before you know it! On and on and on.

Spring semester is almost here. You’ve applied for graduation, the cap and gown ordered, and you have a shiny class ring sitting on your pinky. It’s in the bag. Just breeze through four more classes and you’re out. Well, it would be an easy shot, if you hadn’t put off this one class.

It always popped up, so it’s not like you could plead ignorance. Your advisor warned you, each quarterly meeting, that you needed to get it out of the way. Take it seriously, he cautioned, clacking out his notes, typing down that you’d failed to heed his sage advice, again. If you wait too long, you’re not going to get the professor that you want.

That was the other problem. You’re a procrastination superstar. If there was some kinda award for putting off assignments, you’d have won it ten times over. You liked the heart pounding race to the deadline, the sleepy boasts that you’d tackled the project within hours of its due date.

It’s a stupid habit. Every semester you promise yourself that you’ll do better. You won’t wait, you’ll tackle things one assignment at a time and turn them before the hard cut off at 11:59 pm. Who the fuck did you think you were kidding? Certainly not your friends, or your advisor. He could read you like a book. Hell, he’d even sent warnings.

‘Don’t forget about the deadline for senior registration!’

‘You don’t want to be on a waitlist. You especially don’t want to take one of the harder professors. These are freshman level classes, they’re designed to flunk undergrads. Don’t forget (Y/N), chew them up and spit them out tactics are employed.’

But you had. You’d set an alarm on your phone, then neglected to give it a title, so you’d only chuckled and smacked the chirping into silence that morning, snoozing the all important deadline away.

Fuck.

Most of the classes for biology are wait-listed. No, scratch that, all the classes for Intro to Genetic Biology are wait-listed. You opt into the waitlist for all of them, just in case, and a week later your phone alerts you that one has an open seat. Actually, it has several open seats, too many open seats to be natural. However, you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so for now, you’re enrolled in BIO 1208: Principles of Cell and Organismal Physiology - For Non-Science majors.

Perfect.

Yeah, no. You’d looked up the professor, since the whole open seat thing was still giving you the heebie-jeebies, and your heart dropped. You’ve heard of him, most of the student body has. His classes are notoriously small. Not because the university limited them, or planned for smaller class sizes. No, his classes are tiny because he is infamous for failing students.

Most, when they realize they’re scheduled for his bio classes, frantically drop, taking the withdrawal and praying for better luck next semester. Others, brave souls who think they can come out unscathed, attempt to grit their teeth and push through. But, by midterms, they’re war torn and haggard, shaking their heads and praying for a ‘C’, at best. Fewer still, pass.

This pedagogy isn’t a sign of good teaching; quite the opposite, in fact. You don’t want your student body failing. Yet, year after year, Professor Tomura Shigaraki keeps teaching the same Intro to Bio class. It boggles the mind, but you’ve never had to worry about it. Well, until now.

When you’d received the notification that you’re enrolled in the B section and spied the name Shigaraki under the professor listing, you’d scarfed down your suddenly flavorless lunch and dashed up the steps to the student advising hall, praying there was some way you could wiggle your way out of this growing disaster.

“I’m pretty sure I told you to take it earlier and to take it in the fall when there are more freshman level classes available. I swear I said that to you. And, AND, I even sent you emails, several times if my sent inbox is to be believed, to NOT forget when senior registration ends.”

Your advisor is peeved. You don’t blame him. He’s right, this is your fault, but there’s gotta be some kinda loophole. Something, fuck, anything, that can pull you from this mess.

“I know, I know! I’m so sorry. You’re right. But, I mean, can’t I just hold off for another week? See if the waitlist clears?”

The man that you’ve known for four years, that’s seen you progress from freshman to senior, steeples his long fingers and purses his lips, likely debating on a tactful scolding, or a firm rebuttal. He takes a deep breath and you can’t help but sink into the soft cushioning of the chair, your nose wrinkled and brow furrowed, mentally preparing yourself for the worst.

“Do you know how many students we require to take BIO 1208?”

“No,” you gulp, nibbling on your lower lip nervously.

“Over 7,000. Do you want to hear the statistics that would need to shake out in your favor for you to miraculously avoid taking this specific class? Nothing is going to open for you, it is this class, or no class.”

You sigh, and your advisor nods, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Well then, I suggest you brush up on your study skills. Find a classmate that you can compare notes with, join a study group, go to the student union and ask for a tutor. I would hate to see you back here for the summer semester. You’re scheduled to walk the stage this spring and you’ve worked hard for this, so don’t fuck it up, okay?”

You’ve attended this university for four years, but the first day of term always gives you the jitters. It doesn’t matter that you know your way around, or that you know ten professors by name, and bump into several friends on the way to your next building, you’re always buried in your phone, checking and double checking the next class’ room number.

Despite all that caution, you’re lost.

In your defense, it’s your first time stepping foot in the Graduate & Research building and the whole concrete block is a fucking maze. There must be a basement because the numbers don’t match up with the floors and they seem to jumble further every time you round a corner. Like what the hell? How can this next room be GR 3.03.05 when this is clearly only the second floor and GR 2.03.11 was right down that other hallway?

Exasperated, you lean against the nearest wall and tug your phone out again. Shit. Class started ten minutes ago.

Part of you wants to call it a day, end the search here and try again on Wednesday. Maybe take a few extra minutes to scout out the building next time and have some idea of where you’re going before the start of class.

Ugh, why is this so stressful?

It’s the first day of classes. Surely Professor Shigaraki won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late; besides, if you’re lost, others must be too.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and resume the hunt. Two hallway turns later, you find your mark.

Your hand pauses beside the heavy wood, and you take a steadying breath. Again, why are you so nervous? Just go in and take a seat, it’s easy, stop freaking out over nothing.

The door groans open, hinges protesting the sharp push, and you stumble into a darkened room. The low glow of the projector doesn’t help your blurry vision. Ah, shit, it’s one of those older rooms, so it’s built like a bad movie theater. Oh well, better get to a seat before he spots you.

Swiftly, you make your way toward the raised steps of the aisle and the second row of chairs, plopping into the first one you reach that’s empty. You’re too busy fiddling with the zipper of your backpack to notice that the speaker has stopped his rasping preamble, but as you pull your laptop out the ominous weight of that heavy silence hits you and you toss a hooded stare toward the front of the lecture hall.

Immediately, your eyes land on the professor’s and you feel a low shiver shake up your spine.

He’s watching you.

The gleam of the overhead projector makes his red eyes flash, and he openly scowls at your gaping expression, his lips curling into a dark sneer.

“Well, thank you for joining us, Miss…?”

He’s waiting for your response and you squeak out your last name, mindlessly rubbing your moistening palms against your thin skirt.

“Ah, Ms. (L/N). Now that you’ve graced the class with your belated presence, may I continue?”

“Uh,” you gasp out, your mouth dry, tongue sticking to your teeth, “I’m sorry. I got–”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation, or in your case, an excuse. Or are you now attempting to disrupt this class purposefully?”

“Wha– I-I’m–” your words stumble to a halt, voice failing under the intense glare that he’s giving you. “No,” you finish lamely, ducking your head, nails digging into your sweaty palms.

“Thank you. Do me a favor, stay after class.” His voice is gravel, threatening and low. You don’t like the edge in his tone. It makes your skin prickle and your knees knock. He sounds like the kind of guy that you don’t want to run into in a dark alleyway, or a classroom, for that matter. Even so, it’s not your fault, and despite your feelings of unease, you can’t tamp down your need to protest his unreasonableness.

“But, professor, I didn’t mean to–”

“If I need to repeat my insistence for silence, I’ll make things easier on both of us and fail you now.”

Stunned and fuming, you bite your tongue and lean back into your chair, crossing your arms and blinking back mounting tears of frustration. Great, just great. It’s the first fucking day of class and it looks like you’re already on his shit list. And for what? For being late on fucking syllabus day! What an ass.

You look over at him as you defiantly finish setting up your computer, hoping each pull of a zipper or screen reboot will grate under his stuck up skin. He’s not inordinately tall, or old. In fact, he looks like he might only be in early 30s. He has long white hair that’s pulled back into a low ponytail and, from what you can make out in the dim lighting, some kinda skin condition on his forehead. That, or he’s prematurely wrinkled, and let’s be honest, if he’s gone through life with that big of a stick up his ass, he deserves each and every pull on that mottled skin of his.

You linger in your seat when class is over, lips pulled into a thin line and legs crossed. Finally, when the last student has left the room, professor Shigaraki flips a switch beside his elevated podium, filling the lecture hall with a sharp, fluorescent light. He pauses by his raised computer system and clicks off the overhead projector, blanketing the massive room in an uncomfortable silence.

“Since you missed the part of class where I go over the syllabus, I’ll give you a brief rundown. Under no circumstances will I tolerate tardiness. If you do it once more I’ll mark you absent and three absences knock you down a full letter grade.”

Glumly, you cross your arms and peer up at him, finally able to get a good look at his face. Your first observation was correct. His skin is sharper around his forehead, but his wavy white hair does a pretty decent job of covering up the imperfections. He has two scars: one nicks across his right eye and the other splits down his rough lips, parting the skin and granting him an even more foreboding appearance than his already gruff demeanor does. He’s dressed in a dark pair of jeans and he’s wearing a low slung v neck shirt. It’s a brilliant red and it brings out that otherworldly glint of his red eyes. Shit, you think bitterly, while he’s not conventionally handsome, he’s not exactly hard on the eyes either.

You shake your head against these unproductive musings and curtly snap out a clipped, ok.

“What was that?” Shigaraki scoffs, tilting his head at your sullen figure. “Speak up.”

“I said,” you bristle, eyes narrowing and chin lifting, “Okay, I apologize for interrupting your lecture, it won’t happen again. But, in my defense, if I’m allowed to do that in this class, I’ve never been in this building before, and it’s not like–”

“You’re a senior, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Then you’ve had four years to figure out the layout of this university. The excuse of ‘being lost,’ isn’t an option for you. You know the buildings and you’re fully capable of turning up early to sort out the rooms.”

You let out a long sigh and look away, mumbling vague protests. This guy is ridiculous. You’re not a science major and it’s not your job to know the ins and outs of each building. How fucking stupid. Who does he think he–

“Speak up. I won’t ask you again.”

You bite your lip and look back at him but he’s moved in that distracted moment, silently stepping down from his raised platform and is now leaning over the first row of chairs, looming over you. You can’t help your sudden flinch as you sink further into your chair, away from him.

“If you’re gonna complain, Ms. (L/N), I’d much rather hear it. Don’t you think It’s rude for you to mutter under your breath about me? You don’t see me doing that to you.”

“Fine,” you blurt out, turning away from his insistent, and all too close, gaze. “I was saying that I’m not a science major. I get that I’m a senior, but you can’t seriously expect me to know every nook and cranny of this campus.”

“No, but I can ask for you to be a little more thoughtful. I put time and effort into my lessons and I won’t have you undermining them by bouncing in here with those legs and that flouncy little skirt.”

You’re about to counter his little haughty speech on politeness when you finally process that final comment he’d breathed out. Flabbergasted, you raise your head back to his, but he’s already moving away, snatching up his shoulder bag and waving you a curt goodbye as he presses open the squeaky door. “Next class is at 10 am sharp, so be on time Ms. (L/N).”

You’re still slumped in your seat when the door glides shut again, your eyes wide and jaw no doubt comically unhinged.

Wait. Did…did he really just say that?

Obviously, for the next class, you’re early. You’re so early that you’re the first one in the lecture hall. You select a seat toward the back and fiddle with your computer, checking your messages, adjusting your brightness, replying to old emails, anything to keep your head down and attention occupied.

The door opens and, despite your best efforts, your head flies up, expectant and tense, ready to meet those red eyes of his head on, to show him you’re here and he better… oh. It’s not him. It’s two chattering freshmen. One of them gives you a quick smile, but they both quickly take their seats, a few rows over, and continue their soft conversation, leaving you to fall back onto your earlier distraction tactics. You twiddle with your phone and shoot off a few texts, change your wallpaper, accidentally close an app you meant to leave open, and then the lecture hall door reopens.

He steps in slowly, completely ignoring you and the other scattered students, opting to sort out a few papers and set up his login on the school computer. The minutes tick by and you can’t seem to jerk your eyes away from him, suddenly fascinated by his languid movements. He looks more relaxed than he did on Monday, looser and fluid, completely in his element. True to his word, at ten am on the dot he begins class.

Professor Shigaraki has an interesting voice. It’s low, calculated, bordering on a rasp. It’s one of those tones that makes you want to lean forward and listen up, even though he’s only discussing cellular biology. Which isn’t exactly the sexiest topic for that shockingly dulcet timbre of his.

Wait. Sexy?

Your pen falters against your notebook, and your eyes drift up to his frame. He’s switched the lights off again and the shine of the overhead projector is the only illumination in the hall. His white hair gleams in the dim lighting and his long hands animatedly illustrate his points, elegant fingers opening and closing, gesticulating about the intricate nature of the human genome. You’re so focused on watching his movements that your elbow partner has to push the slip of paper onto your collapsible desktop. You blink at the sheet, your pen nearly clattering from your hand, and you twist to peer at the unfamiliar student beside you.

“It’s the attendance sheet and, um, I think you’re the last one,” they whisper, careful to lean away after they finish their explanation, not wanting to draw professor Shigaraki’s ire. You maneuver the paper under your pen and scribble down your name, biting your lip and silently berating yourself for your poor selection in seating. Great, now you’ll have to take the paper down to him after class. What if he talks with you again? Shit.

At 11:25, class ends. You collect your things and plod down the steps, the attendance sheet clutched between your fingers. He’s just snapping the projector light off when you reach his podium.

“I, uhh, have the attendance. You want me to just leave it here, or…”

“I’ll take it,” his hand is extended toward you and those red eyes are fixed on you now. It’s not the same disgruntled stare he’d given you on Monday. No, this look is a little more curious. Again, you’re taken aback by your reaction to him. He’s not even saying anything, just patiently waiting for you to deposit the sheet into his open palm, but there’s something about him that’s making your heart race.

Maybe it’s those eyes of his.

They are an unusual color and they have a strange intensity to them. Right as they narrow, the vermillion shining under the sharp lights; you press the paper to him and he pulls it from you, studying the names that are listed.

You want to say something. Maybe toss him a quick, friendly, goodbye. Or apologize for the other day? Ugh. What can you even say? ‘Gosh, so glad I was on time today! All that fascinating information about the genetic code! So glad to be here!’ No, that sounds stupid and a little patronizing. Besides, why do you want to talk with him at all? He’s an ass, remember?

“Did you need something?”

His question snaps you out of your stupor and you numbly shake your head at him, already lowering your gaze, but his exhaled chuckle makes you pause, your fingers curling around your backpack straps.

“I know I upset you the other day, but I appreciate you taking the effort to correct your mistake.”

“Oh,” you breathe, your eyes finding their way back to his. “Yeah, well, like you said, I’m a senior. Gotta take responsibility for myself someday.”

“Ah,” he smirks, that long scar on his lip quirking upward. “Seems like you’ve got some determination after all. You might be more interesting than I gave you credit for.”

“God,” you scoff, popping out a hip and crossing your arms at the bemused leer on his face. “Just come right out and say you think I’m a bad student, why don’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” he amends, tucking the attendance sheet into his shoulder bag and snapping the clasps closed. “There’s plenty of time for you to end up right back at square one with me.”

He’s already halfway out the door by the time you right yourself from the shock of his last comment and you follow him, a string of low curses falling from your lips.

The spring semester always flies by, and before you realize it, a full month has bled away. You’ve kept that same seat in Shigaraki’s class and at the end of each session you head down to his little platform, attendance sheet outstretched. Each day of class has a different ebb and flow. Sometimes he chats with you and it’s gotten easier to talk with him, both of your eyes holding and lingering, lips raised into calculating smiles. Sometimes it almost feels like he’s flirting with you. Other days he only spares you a curt nod, his white hair curtaining his expression from your curious gaze. You’re not bothered by these silences, not when you’ve got your secret weapon.

The days that you like best, the ones that you plan, sorting through your closet until you’ve found the perfect choice, are the days when you wear one of your skirts. You’d even gone on some skirt shopping sprees as of late. On those days he doesn’t just make some sort of fleeting eye contact with you, no, on those days he stares.

At first, you’d tested out your theory, staggering your outfits, careful to not screw up your suspicions with a hasty miscalculation, but as they say, the third time’s the charm. How did he expect you not to notice? He never bothers to hide those sharp ogles and recently you’ve made a point of dramatically gathering your things when you wear these cute little ensembles, bopping down the steps so his eyes have to work to follow the line of your hips and the long paths of your bare legs. One rainy afternoon you’d worn over the knee stockings, that came to an abrupt halt over the plush skin of your upper thigh, under your mini skirt and he’d practically leapt over the podium to grab the sheet from you, his eyes hooded and dark, almost wild.

“Test, on Friday,” he warns, eyes finally rising to meet your bemused expression. “Don’t stay out too late tonight.”

“What makes you say that?” you ask, brushing at a rogue fold in your skirt, luring him back to your legs.

He scoffs at you, that jagged scar arching into a smirk. “Humph. You’re dressed up. Most of the students just wear the sweats, or pjs, and call it a day.”

“I like to put a little effort in all that I do,” you retort, grinning up at his vermillion stare.

“Yes, so I’ve noticed. You certainly look the part…and you’re keeping up with the workload of this course.”

“Ahhh,” you crow, clapping your hands excitedly. “Are you saying I might get an ‘A’ in this class? Be the first time someone’s done that in a while, from what I’ve heard around campus.”

Shigaraki sneers and tuts out an inaudible reply, leaning a little closer to you, making you inadvertently fall back a step. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Awe,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m doing ok on all the quizzes and the classwork.”

“So far,” he taunts, his pearlescent hair falling over his broad shoulder.

“Tch. Don’t be like that. I’ve been studying.”

“Sometimes it takes more than that.”

“Oh?” you smile, raising your chin. “What else should I be doing, professor?”

“We’ll know that after Friday, won’t we?”

God.

You’d felt so confident when you’d turned in your test and that stupid, horrible, sexy little quirk of his lip scar that he sends you, when you’d handed him your papers, carries you on some strange, half aroused cloud all weekend. Maybe, just maybe, this class won’t be so bad after all.

The tests are handed back the following Friday, passed from row to row so everyone can fish out their papers and marked Scantrons. Yours, since you still occupy that final seat on the back row, is the last. Biting back a grin, you flip it over, so ready to see that A, that grade that you worked so fucking hard for, that… wait.

The gross flash of red across the top of your paper leaves you reeling, your breath catching against the back of your throat. It’s not a terrible grade, well, it wouldn’t be, but there are only three tests in this class, so it’s going to plummet you down to a B. One more fuck up will leave you with a C, or worse, an automatic failing grade.

No. No, no, no, no.

You can’t afford a bad grade, you honestly can’t even let yourself slip to a B. Your fucking cap and gown have just come in and with them that cord that you can wear around your neck at graduation. The one that marks you as honors cum laude. Fuck. You’re already pulling one B, in one of your other classes, because you’ve been focusing so much time and effort on this one. Another B will strip that cord from you, leaving you barren, with a less than ideal GPA.

God fucking damn it.

You glare up at Shigaraki, who’s busy taking the rest of the class through a review of genetic mutations, but you can’t hear him anymore, too incensed, too overwhelmed to even care about what he’s saying. The test crumples under your fingertips, the paper shaking in your hands, and you seethe, your teeth biting your lower lip to pieces.

It’s not fair. You’d paid attention. You’ve taken all the notes. Read all the chapters. Drilled and studied till your eyes had drooped, heavy with exhaustion. You’ve done it all right. Plus, he’d been so fucking flirty, so open with you. You’ve never chatted with a professor this way, never gone out of your way to wear clothes they like, that make them watch you, their eyes hungry pinpricks as you walk to them, mindful of the luscious sway of your hips.

No. Fuck him. Fuck this class.

Before your elbow classmate can leave, you ask for them to hand in the attendance sheet. You barely hear their response, too busy slamming your laptop into your backpack. As you storm past the podium, you can feel his eyes on you. The distant sensation of his gaze makes your flesh prickle, but you ignore your involuntary reaction and shove your way out the door.

“(Y/N), you can’t switch classes this late. It’s almost midterms. Besides, I don’t think anything has opened up and if you’re going to drop it, you’ve gotta get the signature of the professor,” your advisor tells you, blinking at your stony expression over his thick glasses. “I don’t get it. Why do you want to drop it? Your grades are alright and it’s just one test. You can always try–”

“Gimme the paperwork.”

Shigaraki’s office is on the top floor of the research building, tucked away down another winding and weaving hallway that once again requires your careful inspection to navigate. When you finally hit the right set of doors, you slowly make your way forward, counting the numbers up as you pass. His door is wide open, a yawning cavern that’s filled with the distant light of a lamp. You brush a hand down your skirt, smoothing away any wrinkles and steadying your nerves.

You’d tossed on the skirt this morning, before you’d gotten the grade, and you hadn’t thought to go home and change, too consumed by that simmering rage bubbling within you. And now, like this fucking class, this skirt felt like a mistake, something stupid and vapid that you wished you had time to change out of. He’d told you he liked your attire, liked that you put effort into your outfits. At the time, you’d been so thrilled and excited that he’d complimented you, but now you wish you were confronting him in baggy jeans or lazy sweats, anything that would turn that avid gaze of his away from you.

Lost in thought, you waver beside his open door, nibbling on your lips and tugging at your clothes. It’s now or never. No point in putting it off. What’s the worst that can happen? What can he do now? Or, a darker side of you whispers, what do you want him to do to you? What? That’s a stupid thought, you scold yourself, lifting a hand to the wall and rapping against the beige paint, announcing your presence.

When the sound fades away, swallowed up by the empty and darkened hallway, you poke your head around the corner, searching for him. His head is tilted quizzically, and he blinks twice when he spots you, that all too familiar smirk lifting his lips.

“Ah, Ms. (L/N), what can I do for you?”

His voice is softer than usual and your name sounds like honey, his tone resting on the syllables and consonants for a beat, almost as if he’s savoring their lift, their sound. You can’t help but swallow heavily at his appraisal. Suddenly this may be a terrible idea.

Ugh. Get a grip (Y/N).

“I-I need you to sign this withdrawal paperwork,” you finally reply, digging in your bag and tugging out the thin leaflet, holding it out to him. He’s silent after your demand, meditatively threading his fingers and peering up at you, his red eyes bright.

“Step inside and shut the door behind you,” he instructs, his gaze never falling from yours. Despite the simplicity of his request, you can’t help but bristle at his imperious tone. Why does he always have to sound like that? Like he’s seconds away from taking control of the situation, or of you? He’s always one stupid step ahead, and no doubt he’s going to try and talk you down. Or, he’ll sign it and say that he always knew you were a screw up, someone who only did things halfway, who could never match up to his lofty expectations. Humph, the sooner you’re outta here and out of his class, the better. So, you obey, closing the door and petulantly flopping into the unsteady chair that sits in front of his low desk.

He maintains that uneasy quiet, his red eyes whisking over your disgruntled face, waiting, watching. Unable to take this strange standoff, you push the university paperwork toward him, sliding it as close as you dare to his bent elbows. “I would like to withdraw from your class,” you repeat, lips setting into a thin line.

“Why?” he asks, cocking his head so his loose white hair falls a little further down his rough brow.

“Something came up.”

“Hmm, I can try to work with a new schedule, if it’s your job, or home life,” he counters, eyes narrowing as he sharpens his observations of your brittle expression.

“It’s not that,” you smart, crossing your arms. Great, he’s going to make this difficult.

“Then I suggest you tell me what’s on your mind,” Shigaraki replies, mirroring your movements and leaning back in his chair.

“I don’t think this class is working out for me.”

He exhales a soft laugh at your lie, and you watch that tiny mole at the edge of his chin lift in his quiet mirth. “This is a freshman level course and you’re a senior. You’re in my class because it’s likely the last pre-rec that you need to take before you graduate.”

“Um, yeah. But–”

“And now, you’re wanting to drop it because of one poor grade.”

You grind your teeth and fix him with a stark glower. “I–”

“There will be two other tests. If you read your syllabus, you’d know this.”

“I read the syllabus. Your tests are worth a stupid amount of points and it only takes one of them to tank my grade.”

“Frankly, you did better than most of the class. You only need to work on practical application. I said that the written portion would be a major component of the exam. I also provided you with a review and a rubric. So I’m not sure–”

“Your grade drops me to a ‘B’, and that ‘B’ pulls me from the honors list. And… well… I thought that…”

“Oh? What did you think?” he presses, his voice suddenly dropping to that lower octave it had drifted into when he said your last name.

“I thought I’d get a better grade,” you spit out, turning your head and biting at your lip again.

“Why?” he counters simply. His obtuseness is making your blood boil.

“What do you mean, why?” It takes all of your will to not slip a ‘jackass’ into that question.

“It’s not a hard thing to answer. I graded you fairly and according to my rubric. Why exactly do you feel you merit a different grade than the one you earned?”

You fall into a frustrated silence. You can hear your heart pounding against your ribs and you want to scream at him, to leap over his desk and shake him until his teeth fucking rattle. Your shoulders are rising and lowering disjointedly and his vermillion eyes are honed in on your face, shifting over your pinched expression with a distant interest. You can feel tears pricking at your eyes and you hastily rub a fist over them, brushing away any rogue drops of moisture.

“How can you ask me that? You think I didn’t notice you staring at my legs? Or that you always had something to say to me when I was wearing a skirt? What was I supposed to think, huh? I fucking thought shit like that was gonna help, ok? God, I’m so stupid. I can’t… fuck.”

Shigaraki arches forward when you finish, a deep sigh leaching through his parted lips. His teeth snap together when you look up at him, your eyes gaining back some of that earlier defiance, and he gives you a quick grin, clearly pleased by your shift in attitude and pushes your paper aside, fixing you with a dark look. “Here’s a thought, since you feel you’re so different, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a chance to make up the score.”

“I don’t care about the score anymore. I wanna drop your class,” you snap, but it’s a halfhearted barb. Something has changed in his demeanor. He’s dropped the concerned professor act and is leaning so close you can hear his steady intakes of air. He’s only a few inches away; if you want, you could touch him.

“I doubt you want to attend a class in the summer. Besides, they won’t let you walk if you haven’t finished your freshman level courses. And you can’t tell me you don’t want to graduate, to earn that cord that lets you into the honor cum laude. So stop pouting and hear me out. I think you’ll like what I have in mind.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever like anything about you,” your voice is sharper than you mean it to be, but the challenge makes Shigaraki smile. As it crosses his cracked lips, it pulls that scar up and it makes those eyes of his glow. He looks like the cat that’s got the cream and you’re not sure how to respond, so you cross your legs and wait for him to make the next move.

“You sure about that? Well, I’ll have to change your tune then, won’t I? But that can wait, lemme tell you what my requirements are. I’ve got a copy of the textbook in here. I’ll have you review some of the major concepts, you’ll read the passages aloud so I’m sure you’re on the right track, you’ll hand the book back to me, and then I’ll verbally quiz you over the material. If you answer them correctly, I’ll bump you to an ‘A’ on your test.”

You have to actively work to keep your mouth closed. “So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And… answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Your eyes boggle and you have to clench your thighs tighter, your stomach churning, you feel light-headed and you can feel your core fluttering with your sudden arousal. “Wh-what did you just say?”

“Stop gaping at me like that, you’ll make me blush. Now come on.”

Your jaw snaps closed and you shake your head, trying to clear your mind from your whirling emotions. He takes this reaction as a surrender and stands, stepping toward a marred table that rests a little ways away from his desk. He licks his thumb pad and flips through a few pages before finally settling on an appealing section. Once he places it on the table, he twists back to you and crooks a finger your way. “Come here,” he orders, his voice deep and languid. Obediently, you rise on unsteady feet, hands tugging at the length of your skirt, careful to keep it pressed down as you walk toward him.

He makes space for you to stand in front of the book and shifts back, one hand resting on the table, propping him close to your bent figure. You look up at him, but he only nods his head toward the table, a wicked smile curling the corners of his lips. Blink a few times but finally, the words clear and you can see the block of text that’s in front of you. It’s passages on DNA encodes and RNA proteins, hefty stuff, things that you had to make flash cards for. This isn’t going to be easy. If anything, he’s picked some of the harder concepts, the ones that take steady knowledge in the foundations. Flustered, you look back to him, but he’s moved. He’s leaning against the wide window beside the table, a dark mark against the glass.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a laugh bubbling in his tone.

“There’s no way…” you stammer, shaking your head at him.

“Want me to throw a curve in?”

“I should ask what kinda curve, but knowing you, it’s likely gonna be something terrible.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he rumbles, stepping away from the window and leaning close to your stiff form. “It just takes an open mind and some enthusiasm on your part.”

“Enthusiasm?” you question, trying your best to withstand his closeness. You can feel the heat radiating off of his broad shoulder and if you tilt a little nearer, you could graze against him, or feel his breath on your skin.

“You’re right,” he amends, his forearm contacting your side. You startle at the touch, a gasp falling from your lips, but you don’t pull away and you can’t stop staring up at him, your eyes wide. “Obedience is a better word. From here on out, whatever I tell you to do, I expect you to obey it, although it’s not exactly, ah, school approved.”

“You want me to suck you off or something?” you sneer, hoping to stumble him off his guard, even if it’s only for an instant. Too bad he’s always one step ahead.

“Don’t be vulgar. Think outside of the box, (Y/N). Do you think I’m going to go for something so short sighted when I could have you bending to my will? Obeying every little demand that I make? I’d much rather see if that skin of yours tastes as good as it looks, then simply have you on your knees. No, I want you to fucking scream for me while I stuff you full of my cock. But first, you need to put in some work. You should know that by now.”

Oxygen is suddenly very hard to come by and you can feel your mind hazing over as you stammer up at him, your mind flitting from word to word disjointedly. Shigaraki grants you a wolfish grin, and he dips his lips beside your ear, whispering over those tiny hairs that rest against your tender skin. “I’ll make this part easy. Nod and I’ll give you the first set of instructions.”

What did he say? Nod? What happens when you nod? Fuck, why are you letting him do this? Is your grade really worth it? Are you that desperate that… that…

Shigaraki is whispering other promises over you as you war with yourself, speaking his words gently, slowly, his breath hot as it fans over your neck. It’s like you’ve fallen under some kinda spell and before you realize it, your traitorous head is bobbing up and down, letting him know you want him to keep going.

“Perfect,” he sighs, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear, jerking a shiver from you. “Now, lean forward and put your hands against the table.”

You do as he says, but he’s not satisfied with your positioning, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and yanking you forward, jutting your ass out and pressing your chest down, maneuvering you until your nose is right above the pages of the textbook. “There we go,” he rasps, pulling away so he can admire your splayed form. “Hmm, your legs are too close together. Spread them.” Knees trembling, you obey, gasping when he runs a palm against the curve of your thighs.

“You’ve got such nice legs (Y/N), so let’s put them on display, shall we?” His fingers search against the top of your skirt and they still when he reaches his prize: the zipper. When he pulls it down, you let out a sharp squeak of protestation but he silences you with a swift pinch to your side.

“Now, now, don’t be like that. You nodded, remember? Besides, you could have left when I told you I’d give you a curve but you couldn’t help yourself could you? You want me to keep going and to do that, I need you to take this skirt off. No, don’t move. I’ll get rid of it for you. Why don’t you focus on the task at hand, hmm? Aren’t you supposed to be reading for me?”

You arch away from his fingers and he chuckles at your impudence, one large hand hooking under your chin and pulling you toward his face. His red eyes blaze as they find yours, the dark pupils threatening to swallow up that deep vermillion. “Let’s start with the second paragraph. If you do well, I might grant you a reprieve.”

Jerking your face from his grip, you twist back to the text, trying, and failing, to ignore his inquisitive fingers, unable to resist sighing as he works one up your inner thigh. He pauses when no words fall from your lips and you grumble out a few low curses before acquiescing to his silent demand.

“The flow of genetic information in cells from DNA to mRNA to protein is described by the Central Dogma, which states that genes specify the sequence of mRNAs, which specify the sequence of proteins. The decoding of one molecule… the… the… molecule… by spec-specific…”

He’s slipped your skirt down over the swell of your ass, but he’s taking his time, flexing out the front of the material and dipping his fingers over the bump of your lower stomach, kneading into the delicate flesh that’s stretched out for him. You can’t help the twitch of your spine and you involuntarily wiggle, palms slipping forward, dragging you further along the tabletop. Shigaraki chuckles above you, running his rough lips over the back of your neck.

“You’re so sensitive. I’ve barely touched you.”

He circles his hands back to your skirt and edges it along, lowering it sharply on one side and then giving the same treatment to the other. You’re doing your best to keep up with your stammering readings, but it’s difficult when he keeps sighing and running his long nails across your newly bared skin. Finally, he works the skirt down and it thumps against your bare ankles; the fabric tickling your skin.

Meanwhile, his other fingers skitter against the elastic band of your rapidly dampening panties. Once he hooks the lace under his hand, he yanks them along your legs, trailing them sinfully slowly, ensuring that they glide down the billow of your thighs. His teeth nip at your ear when you stumble to a halt in your recitation and your hands tense over the grains of wood beneath them, your nails pinching into your palms. “If you stop, I stop,” he warns, his head bumping against yours, his sharp nose pressing against your pulse.

“You’re not exactly making this easy,” you grumble, doing your best to ignore his renewed pets and strokes.

“Stop complaining,” he smirks, leaning away from your head to peer at your newly exposed flesh. “You better pay attention to what you’re reading or you’re not going to pass the questions I’ll be asking you.”

“Yeah, yeah, ow!” you squawk, whipping your head around to glare up at him. He fucking pinched you again! This time, he’d slipped his hand between your spread legs and tweaked your inner thigh, painfully.

“Read,” he repeats, running those guilty fingers upward, lingering beside the heat of your cunt, careful to not get too close. When you start on the next sentence, one of his hands tugs up the fabric of your shirt, snaking upward until he’s thumbing against the wire of your bra. Once again, you falter to a halt and exhale a wavering breath.

Goddamn it. This review is no review. You’ll be lucky if you can even recall what a cell is if he keeps this up. You hear his ominous intake of air and quickly resume your recitation, mumbling something about RNA and mRNA differences.

Wait. Didn’t you just…

“Looks like you’re having trouble listening to me. I told you to read aloud, not to repeat the same passages over and over.”

“Hey, at least I’ll have a firm grasp on those. You should ask me something about that s-section… ah–”

The hand that was resting under the cup of your bra has made its way underneath the lightly padded material, and his thumb and index fingers have trapped your peaked nipple between them. As soon as your snarky comment left your mouth, he’d twisted the bud, squeezing it until it throbbed.

“Pay attention,” he commands, shoving your bra upward, freeing the globes of your breasts and cupping both of his broad hands under them. Your abused nipple stings and the mixture of sharp pain and jarring arousal goes right through you, stoking that coil that pulsed within your core, and sending a tacky flush of your essence down your spread thighs.

The next few words are a struggle. The text keeps blurring and your breaths are coming in fast and heavy. Shigaraki is still feeling you up, keeping his lips close to your ears, rasping sharp commands to you and dealing out lightning fast rounds of pinches and squeezes each time you falter.

“I–I can’t… I don’t even know what I’m reading anymore,” you bemoan, your hips pressing against the edge of the table, legs trembling as you attempt to keep them apart. He’s deliberately ignoring your throbbing clit and a desperate edge is creeping into your voice.

“Are you always this whiny? Fine. I’ll give you a moment to read without any distractions.”

Thank God.

True to his word, he slips away from your back and you’re left shivering against his sudden absence. Despite your quaking, you’re determined to make the most of this chance and you quickly read out the paragraphs that are on the second page. As you ramble down to the last bit of text, you realize you can’t hear him anymore and when you finish the last sentence; you start to really wonder where he’s drifted off to. A tense silence follows your completion of the material and you arch up on the tips of your toes, jutting your ass out and stretching the stiffened muscles of your lower back.

“Didn’t say you could stop reading, and judging from all of your complaints, I don’t think you got some of those earlier concepts, so I’d suggest doing a quick review,” he taunts, the sudden rasp of his voice startling a low gasp from your lips.

He’s close; somewhere behind you and to the left from the sound of it. You try to twist around, your chest lifting from the table, and when he notices, his hands return, creating a rough pressure against your neck as he forces your body back down. His weight plasters you to the surface, scraping your partially exposed stomach and tender breasts over the nicked wood. Shigaraki is merciless in his swift correction, his breath puffing out angrily behind you. “Didn’t say you could move, either.”

Stunned, you freeze. Your arms are arched awkwardly, but he keeps his weight against you, flattening your breasts and forcing your back to arch into an awkward bend. Fuck, you think, how are you supposed to stay like this? Your legs are already aching and if he shifts away again, he’s likely going to expect you to maintain this absurd pose.

“Yes,” he groans, his voice catching against the word, “Good girl. Now, stay just like that.”

Damn it.

“Go on, read the first part again,” he instructs.

“The entire genetic content of a cell is known as its genome and the study of genomes is gen-genomics. In eukaryotic cells, but… but not in p-prokaryotes, DNA forms a complex with histone proteins… with histone proteins… sub-substance… of…”

His teeth have latched onto your neck, and he’s sucking bruises into your tender skin. He’s still pinning you to the table, but his hands are widening their explorations. He’s started dragging a fingernail across the puffy folds of your cunt, teasing against the dripping and swollen flesh, chuckling when you buck against his hold.

“You always seem to lose it when you get to cellular modulations.”

“I–I–It’s not… I can’t help that you keep…” you whimper, your fingers curling under your palms, head shaking back and forth. You can’t think. He’s not being fucking fair, and you can’t even string your goddamn words together. Shit. “Y-you’re not being fair,” you accuse, falling on the only thing that keeps running through your mind, your splayed feet shifting uncomfortably under you.

“Not fair? Not once did I say fairness would come into this arrangement,” he lifts himself off of your back and leans beside you, one arm planted beside your crooked elbow. His fingers trace over the curve of your ass, cupping at the thickest part of you and squeezing.

“But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get a little satisfaction out of this arrangement. I bet you look good when you cum. And you’ve been working so hard to get my attention these last few months. So careful to do what I tell you. Looking at me with those big eyes of yours, all wide eyed every time I catch you looking at me. And don’t even get me started on your lips. You’re lucky I didn’t fucking bend you over after class, especially when you started wearing all of those cute little skirts for me. Ahhh, don’t moan like that, I won’t be able to help myself if you do. Let’s see how you’re doing, shall we?”

Without warning, he slips his longest digit into your cunt, groaning loudly when he’s sucked into your welcoming heat. Your pussy, hungry for any kind of scrap, ripples around his intrusion, clamping and pulling, desperate for more.

“Fuck,” he groans, his weight falling against your shoulder. “You’re soaking.” His elegant digit pushes deeper and you roll your hips under him, urging him closer, sighing when he sinks to the last knuckle. As he pulls his finger back, he adds another, swiftly v-ing the two before curving them together as they slip back out, dragging a steady line of pleasure from your quivering cunt. Shigaraki whispers another round of awed praise against your ear, his voice dark and breathless.

A third digit is added on another trip out, and it creates a ragged sensation within you. It’s close to what you like, but he’s stretching you too far and it’s starting to hurt. He either needs to speed up, or give you a little more pressure. If you can hump your clit against the edge of the table, maybe it’ll give you the friction that you need. When you mindlessly buck your hips, your thighs threatening to lose that spread, he stops, holding his fingers inside you, laughing as you agitatedly try to shift him back into his earlier rhythm.

“So eager. I’d say you’re ready for my questions.”

“W-what?” you gasp, wholly focused on making him restart the push and pull of his fingers inside you.

“I’ll start you off with something easy. What’s the cell membrane?”

“W-what? The cell… ah–”

“Answer me. Now,” he grunts, leaning forward, re-steadying you as his fingers pull outward, dragging against your sensitive folds and schlicking through your arousal lewdly, loudly. You moan and your eyes roll back, completely ignoring his demand as you fall into the haze of pleasure that comes after his movements.

His free hand travels up your neck and he tangles his fingers into the tendrils of your hair, yanking and jerking at the strands, demanding your attention.

“I said, answer me.”

“Shigaraki–I–fuck. I can’t even… ugh… think right now!”

“Do you want the grade, or not?” he questions, his voice tense. “Answer correctly and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I–I don’t think I can,” you whine, pressing your hips back as he thrusts his fingers forward again, curving them upward, searching for the spongy pad of nerves that rest against the front of your pelvis.

“Oh? What happened to wanting that A? What about your graduation? You gonna let me fuck up your entire college career? I can do it, you know. I’ve done it to so many simpering freshmen. I fail kids left and right and you’re no different, (Y/N).

The university lets me ahh–there it is! God, you’re so fucking wet.

Where was I? The university can’t say no to me; they let me do what I want. I bring in too much money, too many tempting grants, and that’s all they really care about. So what’s it gonna be? Let me see that you can answer this basic crap and I’ll pass you. Or would you like for me to tie you down and force it outta you another way?”

He’s picked up the pace of his fingers as he rambles over you and a swift press against that newly discovered spot inside you has you falling to pieces in his hands, popping up onto your tiptoes and rutting yourself against the surface of the table. “O-ok, God, ok! Just–fucking repeat the goddamn question,” you pant, head slumping forward, forcing his fingers to tighten against your hair to hold you upright.

“What is the cell membrane?”

You wince your eyes closed, trying to rack your brain to focus on something other than the heavy pressure of the three fingers that are teasing their way across your dribbling pussy. He’s moving his presses with a lackadaisical, inconsistent rhythm now and it’s hard to fucking think. You can’t tell if his next thrust will be hard, or soft, or so rough that it’s bordering on that bittersweet line of pain.

You shake your head, doing your best to ignore the mounting pressure that he’s building inside you and the ache of your neck and legs. Finally, after another sharp tap against that secret bunch of nerves at the front of your cunt, you latch onto a vague remembrance.

“It… it’s a double layer of–of phospholipids that make a boundary between the cell and t-the surrounding… ugh… it controls the passage of materials.”

“Very good. Elaborate on the cellular wall.”

He’s unrelenting in his domineering treatment, twisting and frigging his fingers each time your breath hitches, and your arousal is leaking down your legs, making your skin stick and pull. It’s too much, you can’t! How can he even ask this? Words are falling from your lips incoherently, and all too soon you’re gasping out his name rather than reciting the answer.

“Cellular–oh, fuck, Shi–Shigaraki–Please, keep–don’t stop! S-Shigaraki, God that… feels… ah–keep going!”

He ignores your request and pulls his fingers away, robbing you of that sweet pressure that he’s so carefully mounted within you.

“I’ll count that one as incorrect. Your ‘A’ is swiftly becoming an ‘A’ minus, (Y/N)” he snarls, his teeth gritted, hands falling to the swell of your hips, wet fingers digging into your soft skin.

“What? No! You didn’t give me enough… e-enough time! How can–can you expect me to answer that qui-quickly!”

“Let’s try another.”

It hurts. That ache that he’s drawn out of you is starting to sting and throb and he’s being such a dick about it! You twist and grind under him, and he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“I don’t–” you protest weakly, your legs trembling and chest heaving under his weight.

“Do you want this? Wouldn’t you like to pass this class? To graduate with honors?” he growls, leaning closer, his hands braced against you, his fingers no doubt leaving bruises on the supple crest of your hips.

“You’re such an ass! Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then answer another question. What’s diffusion?”

“D-diffu-diffusion is the process by which molecules move from an a-area of… of… fuck- of high concentration, to low concentration. Shigaraki!”

“I should count that as another miss, but you got the major concept correct.” He removes his fingers from your waist and yanks your ass toward him, keeping your overeager hips away from the fleeting relief of the sturdy table. “Pop your legs together,” he commands, one hand wrapping around your arched throat, squeezing until you obey. His other hand drops to that thatch of curls that rest between your quivering thighs and he gathers up your gossamer strands, rubbing against your clit for one hazy instant, sending a flash of spots across your vision.

“Mmm, now that’s a pretty sight. Good girl, don’t move,” he reminds you and you want to scream at him. Right before you can spit some frustrated vitriol out, he’s releasing your neck, his hands dropping from your skin and letting you fall back to the uneven surface below. Just before your chin contacts the wood, his hand is back in your hair, tugging you upward, holding you a few inches above the table. The sharp pain makes your scalp tingle and you unconsciously rut against the tempting heat that’s now plastered to your ass. He’s hard. You can feel the stiff bulge of his cock straining against the front of his dark jeans, pressing into the cleft of your posterior.

“T-that’ can’t be comfortable,” you pant, twisting your head so you can look up at him from the curve of your shoulder.

“Oh? You worried about my cock?” he asks, his red eyes flashing down at you challengingly. You don’t bother giving him a verbal response, opting instead to grind your ass up, catching against the jut of his length, earning yourself a low groan. His lips curl when you repeat the motion and you realize you love watching that smug face of his drift into a look of tense pleasure. It makes his scar on his lip flush and those red eyes of his fall to a lazy half mast. He spies your arched brow and pleased grin and pushes himself off of you, leaving you alone and open on the table.

“Keep pushing your luck. I’m more than happy to drop you back to a B.”

“What?” you scoff, teeth clinking together as you clench your jaw. “I didn’t move!”

“No, but you’re trying to take control of this and we can’t have that can we?” Shigaraki sneers. “Now, how shall I punish you?”

“P-punish me?” you stammer, a chill racing down your spine.

“Ah, I know. This’ll really piss you off,” he twists from your strained gaze and walks back toward his desk. What? What the fuck does he mean? You can’t see him from this angle, not with the way your legs are stretched and back is lowered, but it doesn’t stop you from trying, your chin lifting upwards as you do your best to keep him in focus.

Ugh. It’s no use. He’s slipped past your field of vision.

Hearing is likely your best bet, so you shift your forehead back to the table and listen, straining your ears to pick up any morsel. Something opens and closes and you catch the sound of the wheels of his chair as they shift, squeaking across the floor, and the groaning of the springs when his weight is applied to the cheap leather.

Okay, so he’s in his chair. Is he just gonna look at you? That’s not… wait…

There’s a faint clicking sound.

It’s both familiar and unfamiliar to your ears, but once the teeth slide over the last pull, you realize. It’s a zipper.

Oh fuck. Is he going to jerk himself off? With a gasp, your head whips back around. He’s still positioned himself away from you, and you can only just make out the sounds that are accompanying the undoubted rise and fall of his fist. All you can see is a tiny sliver of his body, but you catch sight of the coiling muscles on his neck and you notice that his head is dipped forward, pearl white hair settling across the cut of his collarbone. The one red eye that meets yours is blazing and hungry, it makes every hair on the back of your neck stand up.

God, he’s staring at you, watching you, getting himself off as you’re half naked and bent over a desk in his office, fully subjugating yourself to his whims and fancies for the sake of your grade.

Damn it, (Y/N). This should not be a fucking turn on. You should be disgusted, but the flush of slick that drips down your thigh says otherwise.

He lets out a choked moan, picking up the pace of his hand, letting you hear the click and slip of his palm as it strokes up and down his cock. A shiver echoes up your spine and your hips seem to have a mind of their own, grinding your clenched thighs over the dip of the table, easing the clenching pulsations that your cunt is shuddering through you.

“Look at you, so desperate for my touch that you’re humping the fucking table. Such a dirty girl, and so disobedient. You’ve only answered a few of my questions correctly and yet your slutty little mouth and body keep pushing at me. Making me put you in your place. Let me ask you something, why should I go out of my way to fix your grade when you can’t even prove to me you understand the simplest concepts?

Ah, here’s a thought. What if I told you I’ll wave the other requirements; no more readings, no more quizzes, but I won’t let you cum? What if I just get myself off? You’re putting on a such a good show for me! Why should I bother with seeing that you’re satisfied when that table seems to do the job for you? Sound good? Or would you like for me to come back over there and make you cum?”

“I–I don’t… I don’t want…” You can’t get the words out, your tongue feels leaden between your lips and you can’t think of anything but the steady itch that’s spreading from your clit.

“Speak up,” Shigaraki demands, slowing his jerking fingers. The chair he’s sitting in groans as he leans forward, and his eyes wide as they take in the delicious sight that’s propped before him. “You don’t want to cum? Is that it? You’d like for me to get myself off and leave you there?”

“No!” you cry out, your fingers digging into the scuffed wood of the table. “I-I want you to make me cum.”

There’s a sharp clatter and you jump at the abrupt noise. It must be the chair you think, your heart pounding against your chest, waiting for Shigaraki’s next move. He only lets a few seconds drift by before he presses himself back to you. He leans his broad chest over your back, the front of his legs pushing against the back of yours. His exposed length is wedged firmly against the cleft of your ass and its tempting hardness makes you squirm under him, but he’s propelling you forward, pinning you against the rough wood, and you can only flail uselessly under his control. His lips skim over your neck and he bites into your skin, sucking and licking bruises as he inches closer to your pulse.

You say his name pitifully, wantonly, and he lets out a shaky gasp. Something about your tone has shifted something within him and you can feel his cock swelling, dripping a rope of wet pre-cum down your shaking leg.

He leans away, removing his sticky hardness from your ass. “Seems your priorities have shifted. You’re a little preoccupied right now, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice gravel scraping against your overwhelmed senses. You let out a weak moan and he snaps into action, his fingers pushing under your flattened stomach and tugging against the fabric that he finds. He yanks you upward, pulling your shirt up as he goes. His palms dip under your half lifted bra, and he cups at your breasts, massaging the rounded bulbs and plucking at your peaked nipples. Your head lolls back, and he sucks at your earlobe again, his breath warm and rasping as it passes by.

“Hold still,” he commands.

It’s not an easy position, this stretched upward arch that he’s forced you into, but it’s worth it when you feel his cock pushing between your tensed legs. He doesn’t thrust into you, opting to run his weeping tip against your slippery folds, pressing until his bulbous head is twitching against your pulsing clit.

Goddamn it, you think as he stills, his lips smacking open-mouthed kisses over your shoulder, it’s not enough. You wiggle your hips back and forth and he abruptly exerts a firm pressure against your windpipe, leaving you sputtering and gasping. “What’s wrong? Not happy with this? Do you think you deserve something more? Do you think you’ve earned that?” He shoves you back against the surface of the table, his broad chest following the plane of your back, trapping you under his heavy form.

You’d replied, you know you must have, but you can’t hear yourself anymore, your attention attuned to the warm length that’s pressed against your shuddering folds. You’d likely thrown in a please for good measure because Shigaraki rewards you with a quick peck to your shivering neck and his thumb, swirling it around your clit, creating a cresting ache that leaves you mumbling incoherently, a thin line of drool slipping from your parted lips. As he keeps that faint osculation up, your fingernails scrape over the wood of the table, your feet lifting you onto your toes, curving your back, and shoving your leaking pussy into his open palm.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” Shigaraki says, a breathy desperation lingering around the edges of his rasping voice. “But it’s just not enough, right?”

You nod, licking up some of the excess saliva that’s built under your heavy tongue and crane your head back at him. His eyes are the first thing you see. They’re wild, ravenous and glinting with a roughness that makes you whisper out a soft whine. Fuck. It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to want him this badly. Goddamn it. Now that he’s caught your gaze, he won’t let you look away, and he presses himself closer, his cock twitching and warm, the tip rubbing back and forth, keeping time with his circling thumb.

“You gonna fuck me, or not?” you finally ask, unsticking your lips and smirking up at his hardened face.

“Tch. Don’t rush me,” he grumbles, removing his hand and teasing cock from your cunt, watching as your body convulses under him, your pussy quivering against the excess stimulation that he’s wrought over you. Your thighs burn, aching to break free from his control, to rub against that throb, that tingling that keeps shuddering outward.

“One more question,” he tells you, lifting his dripping thumb to his lips and sucking off the traces of your arousal. The sight of him licking his pink tongue over his gleaming knuckles almost makes you lose your balance, your arms shaking precariously under you.

“A-another? Come on,” you pout, your eyes following the curve of his wicked lips, watching as his scar quirks upward, amused by your useless defiance.

“Make you a deal, answer it correctly and I’ll give you my cock. Sound fair?”

“Ugh, whatever, just hurry up,” you snap, so impatient and turned on that you can hardly think.

The tip of his cock presses against your sopping entrance, pushing forward just enough to part your dripping folds but stopping before he clears that first, tight ring of flesh. The promise of his dribbling tip makes you lose any semblance of self-control. You thrash under him, but he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“No! Don’t stop! Come on Sh-Shigaraki–Don’t be such a fucking–ah–”

“Do you want this? Do you want my cock?” he growls, leaning over you, his fingers squeezing down, no doubt leaving bruises in the supple crest of your hips.

“Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then you better answer. What are cytosines?”

“They… they’re n-nitrogenous base… fuck… base that pair… that pair with guanine during D-DNA replication… I–please, please, Shigaraki! Fuck me! I want your cock! Fuck me, fuck me!”

Thankfully, he either takes pity on you, or can’t control himself anymore, his hips surging forward, gliding his thick length into your cunt and snarling at the mind numbing heat that waits for him. He keeps driving upward until he bottoms out, sharp hipbones grinding against the plushness of your ass.

He’s not gentle with you, no he’s animalistic and raw, his thrusts papping into you with a terrifying strength. You would have liked something slower, something that lets you enjoy each imperfection and dip that raced along his cock, but this, oh, this is an exception because this is perfect. It’s not what you want, but it is what you need.

The heavy fullness that he’s stuffing you with leaves you breathless, but you somehow manage to gasp out a string of nonsensical praises each time he drives back into you, overwrought by his roughness.

This coupling isn’t kind, isn’t right, and is not healthy, for either of you. No, not with the way he’s using your shivering body, distracted with slacking that euphoric thrum that’s making his cock pulse and swell inside you.

But fuck it feels good and you can’t help but tremble with delight. These intoxicating thrusts of his ram him up against something that’s buried deep inside you, and each time he hits it another star of bright pleasure races through you. The familiar coiling of release is steadily mounting with each rapid fire rut he gives you and if he could just, ah, there’s something that’s… no, fuck, it’s, it’s not going to work. It feels good, but it’s missing one vital ingredient, one thing that he’s neglected to pay attention to, to notice.

Your clit needs to be tweaked and rolled, and right now it’s pulsing away against the table, beating a sad tattoo into the grainy wood. Oh well, you think, head fuzzy, lost in the euphoria of his powerful cants, grinding your ass into his hips as he digs into another teeth chattering thrust. He’ll likely finish soon, and you’ll probably need to get yourself off later. It’s not something new, and it’s not like he’s going to care enough to focus on that, on you. This whole thing has been about control, so there’s likely no room for your own pleasure.

“What’s wrong,” he gasps out, his fingers lifting from your hips to curl beside your turned head.

“What? N-nothing–I–” you pant, eyes rolling back as he hits that spongy patch of nerves again.

“Tch. Hold on,” he interrupts, his voice rasping and breathy. He pulls himself out of you with a grunt and yanks you upward, hauling you onto the tabletop and flipping you on your back, bending your stiffened legs and bracing your knees against his lean forearms.

He holds you apart, spreading you open with his powerful hands. You can see him properly now, and the sight makes your breath catch against the back of your throat. Fuck, he looks good.

His long white hair is draped across his bare shoulders and his eyes are blazing pits of hunger, devouring the sight of you with those red irises. His jaw is clenched, and he glares down at you from his imperious height, his nostrils flaring as he drags in a quick intake of air. To your shock, he gives you a little time to acclimate to this new position, opting to languidly step forward, letting his slippery cock head press and tease at the dip of your opening. But right when you think he’ll move again, he stops, his eyes roving over the lines of your face.

His sudden stillness makes you peer quizzically up at him and you scoot closer, your feet lifting from the table. The movement snaps him out of his stupor and he grabs your ankles, roughly pinning you back down.

“Keep still,” he snarls through clenched teeth, that scar of his lifting.

You nod mutely and he rewards your unquestioning obedience with another powerful thrust, sinking his swollen cock back into your waiting cunt. He lets out a sharp groan and grabs at your hips, jerking you forward, already drifting back into that all-consuming rhythm he’d started earlier. His ruts are a little slower from this angle but, in no time at all, that familiar ache pools in your core, stoking and building at an alarming rate. The driving force of his hips soon has you blinking back spots and distant stars, and this time he adds the all important pressure of his thumb, circling the finger pad over your clit and dragging a broken moan from your quivering lips.

“So that’s what you needed. You close?” he grits out, his lips set in a curled scowl. He’s lost some of that early control, his hips stuttering as they connect with yours, his power lessening, cooling, as he looks for your release.

“I–I think–oh fuck, do that again. Yes! Just–ah!”

He angles your hips upward and gives your clit another quick oscillation, pressing down until you’re gasping. “There you go. That felt good. You’re getting tighter,” he laughs, looming over you, shoving your heaving chest downward as he jerks your hips into him, forcing your body to do most of the motion, making your shoulder blades scrape across the uneven wood. “Cum for me. Fucking cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum and I’ll give you your A, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

Your spine arches as you break around him, your cunt greedily pulling him deeper, slipping him past the barrier of your tender cervix and earning you a weak shout of praise from Shigaraki. Seconds later, he’s pulsing and twitching against your walls, the warm pooling of his cum filling you up and spilling down your spread thighs.

His head drops to your shoulder and the rough skin of his forehead sticks to your sweat dampened flesh. For a long moment you’re both still, each of you struggling to catch your breath, luxuriating in the tingling sensation of release.

“I fucking hate you, you know,” you gasp out, your arms circling his back, fingertips etching vague patterns over his neck and shoulders.

“Ha,” he snorts, “I’ll have to remember that. Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll pay you back for that little remark next time.”

“Oh? Next time?” you chuckle, moaning as he twists out of your hold and pulls his softening length out of you.

“I’ll fail you on every assignment if you try to keep away,” he threatens, his eyes falling to the gaping mess that he’s left behind. You cross your legs, denying him the satisfaction of leering at your dripping pussy.

“Fine. But next time, fuck me on something softer than a damn table.”

tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @libiraki <--- i’m coming for you. you’re gonna have to read for this, lady. so, uh, i’m officially noneconing you here.

notes: you made it! this thing is a monster & i’m so sorry i can never stfu

#shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #reader insert #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #bnha smut #9 to 5 collab #bnha degeneracy server #collaboration #tw: unhealthy relationship #tw: teacher/student #tw: dubcon #tw: bribery

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baecvlt · 3 years

Text

Stalker Nagito Komaeda x Milf!Reader

this was requested via my twitter:

“Hey! i’ve seen your works and I’m in love. Can I request smut where a stalker Nagito Komaeda becomes obsessed with a milf reader who moves into the neighborhood who’s like a dom in bed and ya know just large bust and taller than him. Thank youuu🤍”

a/n: ofc. but I have my own idea of a dom which i’ll use involving certain things (heed warnings)

warnings: he is so obviously a virgin in this, degradation, slight masochism, asphyxiation, spit, also Nagito calls the reader mommy (side note: nagito is in his early 20s in this, he lives alone. age of reader isn’t specified BUT I say she’s in her late 20s/early 30s)

• • •

It was a bright day...which Nagito despised. It was summer. He hated the sun, hated the mosquitoes, and the unnecessary humidity. It was days like these he wishes he was back at his university dorm. The A/C, the tall tree covering his window and blocking the sun...it was perfect. Hell, he didn’t even hate classes. Yet, he couldn’t live in the dorms forever. When it came time to buy a home, he stupidly did so in fall, moved in during the winter.

Well, no shit the home seemed perfect then. It wasn’t fucking summer. His A/C decided to break, his windows has a great view of the sun, and most of his friends were out of town (all except Hajime, but Hajime is fucking boring and a bummer). Nagito sat on his couch, watching reruns of old tv shows. He took a sip from his nearby glass (cold water), suddenly hearing sounds of what appeared to be a loading van. He looked outside his window.

A moving van?

Right, that one old man who lived there passed away. Freak accident, by the way. Oh well, may he rest in peace. Meanwhile, Nagito was being himself and trying to see who it was. Pretty much, the dude was being nosy. He saw another car pull up. That must’ve been the family’s car. Out jumped 3 kids, what appeared to be 2 girls and 1 boy. An adult stepped out. Nagito decided he’d get a better look at the situation. He put on his shirt, black jeans, and his green hood.

He was “going for a walk”.

Without being noticed, he made his way to the other side of the street. It was a woman, she was taking boxes out of the truck. The minute Nagito saw her it was if he was stricken by Cupid’s arrow. She was tall and beautiful. Her skin complimented her hair and her legs, he couldn’t take his eyes off them. Her breasts...he needed to stop—

“Hi!”

She was in front of him, a warm and inviting smile on her face. “H-Hi,” he muttered. She didn’t hear him well, so it helped that he waved. “I’m new in the neighborhood. We just moved in,” she added, putting the box down. She stuck her hand out, going for a handshake. He shook her hand, her warm hand against his cold ones. Why are his hands always cold? “I see,” he responded, getting his shit together,“I’m Nagito Komaeda. I live across the street”. She introduced herself and complimented his house.

“What a lovely home. I hope the neighborhood is just as lovely”

“It should be. It’s pretty quiet. There’s not many families here. Say, can I help you pack?”

“You’re too sweet! I’d really appreciate it”

He helped take all the boxes in her home, helping load a couch too, and help with other large objects. They finished in 9 hours, taking a majority of the day. “Thanks for helping out, Nagito”. She made a lemonade, handing him a glass.

“Don’t mention it! Also, thank you”

One of the kids ran in the living room where they sat on the couch. He gasped when he saw Nagito. “Mommy! That man looks dead!!!”. Nagito smiled, but his mom was not amused. “Michael! Apologize..”. The kid kept smiling and said,“Sorry!”. He ran to another room. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered. Nagito shook his head.

“Hey, I’m rather malnourished”

“Ha. On an unrelated topic, are you hungry? I could make us something”

“Oh, I shouldn’t linger any longer. I wouldn’t want to disturb your husband”

She laughed. “I know you mean no harm, but I’m not married,” she added. “Oh,” Nagito muttered,“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean it in any way”. She shook her head and reassured him it was fine. “Sit, Nagito,” she pulled out a chair,“I’m not letting you refuse having dinner with us. Especially since you were such help”. She rubbed his back before heading back into the kitchen to begin cooking.

She made him a bowl of pasta, adding chicken on the side. Nagito was quite happy. He hadn’t eaten a good meal in so long. Her kids didn’t eat at the table, but on the counter. Meanwhile, she ate with Nagito. Just as Nagito thought he couldn’t grow fonder of her, he did just that. All she did was let him talk about himself.

“Jesus, I’m sorry about your parents? How are you keeping yourself afloat with university and expenses?”

“Academic scholarships”

“Wow, you’re such a smart boy”

The way she phrased it made him flustered. “Thank you for the meal, ma’am,” he muttered,“I haven’t eaten like this in who knows how long”. She smiled tenderly, picking up his empty plate. “Seconds?”. He shook his head.

“No, thank you. I’m already so full”

“I’m glad. You know, there’s always a meal for you in store if you can do me a favor”

“What’s that?”

“My oldest daughter has her final test this week. You think you can help her study? I’ll make you a nice, warm meal every time you come over”

Nagito thought about it. He would also have time around her. Plus, she wasn’t a bad cook. “Of course, I look forward to it,” he told her. “Lovely”. He got up and excused himself to go home. “It was nice having you over, Nagito,” she said softly. He could tell she was getting sleepy. When people are tired, Nagito has noticed that their tone is rather sheepish. She walked him to the door, ruffling his hair playfully and he blushed. “Goodnight, neighbor”.

“Goodnight, you”

Before he left, she stopped him and handed him a paper: (xxx) xxx-xxxx ♡

“Call me when you get home so I have your number saved. Then, I can call you when my daughter, Vanessa, needs help. Take care, okay?”

He nodded.

She closed the door, his thoughts racing on his way home. He picked up some things about her, things she didn’t even tell him. He went home and opened a notebook, writing all of it down. He called her and she answered, her voice as sweet as when he left (only sleepier). “Hello?”. His breath was heavy without realizing it as he spoke. “H-Hey, you told me to call you,” he breathed,“It’s Nagito...Komaeda”

“Oh, hey, angel! I’m not interrupting anything am I?”

“What? No, it’s all good— why’d you think so?”

“You sound like you need to catch your breath, but anyway, thanks for calling me. I’ve saved your number now”

“Oh, great! Well, if that’s all, I’ll let you go to bed now”

“It was. Goodnight, Nagito”

“G-Goodnight”

He hung up, flustered more than ever as he continued to jot down his thoughts on paper. The next day, he woke up at 6am to wait in his car. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. At around 7:41am, his front neighbor and kids headed for their car. Nagito, who had taken a light nap in the driver’s seat, was awoken by the car starting. He waited for the car to drive away just slightly past his house to start his own car, slowly tailing behind her.

He dropped her kids off at the nearby elementary. She got off, kissed them on their forehead (all minus the eldest, who walked swiftly through the gates). Seeing how she cared for them made Nagito feel bad, but all he did was brush that feeling off. Next, he followed her through her daily. As he did, his notes from last night echoed through his mind, adding new detail.

“She works at an office not everyday She doesn’t have allergies but is sensitive to dust Red seems to be her favorite color but always in a darker shade Her daughter is around 10 years old She isn’t vegan but enjoys almond milk Maybe has an issues with abandonment but I can’t assume that either She buys many apples but not the same amount of bananas at the store so maybe she only eats the bananas—”

Just more to add to his notebook.

He got home before she did, writing down what he had learned. His phone rang about an hour later of him getting home. He picked it up,“Hello?”. “Nagito, hi!”. It was her. He started having a mini-panic attack, because why would she be calling him? “H-Hey, how are you?”

“I’m doing alright. I was wondering if you could come over and tutor Vanessa”

Oh, thank god.

“Yes, of course. I’ll be down there right now”

“Great. See you then!”

He was relieved, heading to her home happily. He knocked on the door. When she opened it, she did so with the same warm smile as yesterday. “Thank you for coming over,” she said,“She’s in her room”. Nagito nodded, freezing when she grabbed his hand and took him to the room. Her touch was so soft, noted. They got to the room, where a girl was reading a book on a desk. “Nessa?”. The girl turned around.

“Nagito is going to be here for a few hours to help you out with homework and studying. He’s really smart, so pay attention and be respectful”

“Okay, mom”

She nodded, squeezing Nagito’s shoulder before leaving. Nagito approached the girl, she took her things out. Before he could speak, she stopped him. “Please don’t call me ‘Nessa’,” she whispered,“It’s bad enough my mom does, but not you, Please”.

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on referring to you at all”

“Bastard”

“Nessa”

“I guess I walked right into that one”

Nagito laughed, grabbing a chair and sitting next to her. Her work wasn’t what he expected. Is this what they’re teaching kids now? He could’ve sworn he hadn’t seen this type of stuff until he hit middle school. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t do, but damn. All in all, tutoring went well. Vanessa actually learned something today. “Good job!,” he said. “Thank you,” she smiled and hugged him,“I felt so stupid”.

“Hey, its okay not to understand things”

Her mom walked in. “Dinner’s ready”. Vanessa got up and went to the kitchen. “How’d it go?,” she asked Nagito. “Went well, she gets the math now,” he answered. She smiled, thanking him for his help and asking him to join them for dinner. He’d be foolish not to, so he accepted the invite.

Fish tacos were served tonight with rice and beans, another lemonade made. It was different than anything Nagito had ever had, but that doesn’t equate to bad. He actually enjoyed the meal. The kids sat at the main table today, much more respectful than yesterday. “Michael how was school?”. He put a thumbs up, getting back to eating. “And Adrianna?”. She looked up from her meal and shrugged. “What’s wrong?”.

“I’m tired, but class was okay”

“Oh, okay. When you’re done, just take a quick shower and get to bed”

“Thanks”

Nagito thought it was endearing. Seeing how understanding and loving she was, it was refreshing. The kids all eventually left, Nagito finishing his meal. “Did you like it?”. He looked at her, nodding. “Great! Seconds?”.

“Full again. I don’t usually eat, but your food is always so good”

“Oh, you’re just saying things...”

“No, really! Thank you”

He said his goodbyes to the family, walking back home. It was as if he was falling for this woman more and more everyday. He went to sleep, this time dreaming of her. He never dreams, but this time he dreamt she was on her knees for him. Then, nothing else. It was as if his dream teased him.

The next morning, he woke up to some knocking on the door. He looked at the time. 8:23am. He put on a pair of jeans and his shirt, walking to his door. He opened it and there she stood, wearing a black dress and red heels. He assumed she had work and needed a favor before going. “Good morning,” he said.

“Were you following me yesterday?”

Shit.

“I, uh...,” he didn’t know what to answer. He was indeed following her yesterday. He also liked her, so if he straight up said that he was to following her, it’d ruin things. His face was glowing a shade of pink to a slight red as he thought of the right answer. He was still stumbling over his words. “I think it’s kinda cute,” she added. The fuck? “Huh?”. She pushed him inside the house, closing and locking the door behind him. “When a boy follows someone around, it’s because he wants something,” she added, but her tone was so sultry,“Well, Nagito—”. She pushed him onto the couch, leaning in front of him with her hands on his chest.

“—What do you want?”

None of what was happening felt real. Nagito couldn’t find the words to express what exactly he wanted. This was the first time he’d ever been in a situation like this, it wasn’t a bad one either. He began to panic when she straddled him. “Could it be that you wanted me?,” she asked. He frantically nodded and she laughed as she locked her lips with his. He gasped against her lips, kissing back. She slowly trailed her kisses down to his neck, cupping his jaw while grinding on his lap. Nagito moaned, his shaky hands grabbing her ass. She grabbed his hands and put them away from her. “It’s cute that you’re getting this carried away”.

“I’m sorry”

“No time to apologize. Get on your knees for mommy”

Nagito was about to lose his mind when she said that, but he obeyed. Her presence was domineering as he stood on his knees against his carpeted floor. She spread her legs, noticing Nagito desperately trying to get a look. Her red heel stopped him, stepping on his head lightly. “Am I teasing you?,” she asked,“It’s okay to be honest”.

“Y-You are, but its okay. I want to be teased by you”

“You’re adorable,” she took her heel off his head,“Let’s go to your room”.

He practically ran to his bed. He sat and waited patiently. She entered the room, heading to his bed. She began to take off his shirt, admiring his frame. She then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. He kicked them off and sat down. She sat next to him. “Give me your hands”. She held them, frowning slightly. “Boo, they’re so cold,” she teased,“I’ll warm them up for you”. Carefully, she grabbed his left hand, putting his middle and ring finger in her mouth. She licked to his fingertips, leaving him tense and speechless. She stopped and smiled at him.

“This is your first time, isn’t it?”

He nodded shyly. “Don’t be shy,” she said,“I’m going to guide you, but I’m also going to have my fun”. He gulped, nodded. She stood up and removed her dress. She wore a lacy black bra and panties. She brought his hands to her breasts, allowing him to fondle them. They were huge in his hands. “You like them, baby?”. “Y-Yes,” he muttered,“Can you, uh, take....the bra off?”. He was ashamed when asking, he felt desperate. She smiled and nodded, unhooking it and allowing the bra to fall to the ground. He gasped at the sight of her tits, grabbing them. She straddled him.

“Do you know what to do with them?”

He nodded, rubbing one and sucking the other. She moaned sweetly, grinding on his lap. He popped his mouth off them. That was when she took the opportunity to knock him onto the bed. She began to make out with him, shoving his tongue down her throat. They lay sideways. Her hand was on his neck, slightly choking him. He couldn’t resist but try to grind on her lap. She laughed. “Look at you,” she mocked,“Humping my leg like a desperate little puppy”. She didn’t let him speak, sitting up and pushing him back down. “I’m going to give you what you want,” she whispered in his ear,“Take your cock out”.

He was nervous as he did, hands shaky. She blushed a bit at his size. “It’s so big,” she said, straddling him,“I’m going to have my way with it”. “Please, do what you want to me,” he begged,“Abuse me, please”. She didn’t speak, sinking down on it. Nagito gasped, she was extremely wet. She began to bring her hips up and land straight down on it, repeatedly. She put her hands around his throat, now being rougher. Nagito gasped for air, grabbing her hands.

That was a mistake.

“Hands down,” she ordered, striking him across the face. “Sorr-”. He was slapped once again. “Only speak when you’re spoken to”. He nodded as his stomach began to cave in. His cock twitched each time she slapped him, making her moan. She leaned forward, capturing his earlobe between her teeth. He winced, his hands tangling in the sheets. He felt as though his entire body was blushing.

“You’re so sensitive there”

She teased him, kissing the skin and nibbling. His hips involuntarily snapped upward, making her whine. “You’re so desperate, baby,” she laughed,“it’s so cute”. He could feel her warmth running along his cock. He bit into his hand, trying to stop himself from cumming inside her. It worked, but she didn’t like him doing that. She grabbed his hands and kissed them.

“Don’t hurt yourself, put them right here”

She placed them on her boobs. He watched them bounce up and down, grabbing them gently. His rather large hands seemed small on her tits. He was extremely flushed. He took them off her and placed them on her hips. “Open your mouth”. He lay back more and did as he was told. She leaned forward, grabbing his jaw again as she spit into it and kissed him. He moaned when she did, his urges getting the best to him and thrusting upward. He hit her cervix every time, causing her to produce the sweetest and sluttiest of moans. Her walls tightened around him and now he was whining. “Are you gonna cum, honeybun?,” she asked.

“Y-Yes..”

“Where do you wanna cum?”

“I wanna cum...everywhere. I want it. I want it so bad. I wanna cum inside and on your tits, on your ass, y-your face..mouth. Please let me cum, mommy”

She motivated him, riding him harder. “Come on, Nagito,” she whispered,“Cum for mommy. Cum all the way inside her”. He lost his mind after that, groaning as he shot his load(s) inside her. He was still inside her as he tried catching his breath. She rubbed his chest, shushing him. “Good boy, you did so well,” she cooed,“Such a good boy.” He was covering his face, embarrassed and still hard. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?,” she asked. He shook his head, thinking,“Not rough enough”. He whined when she got off, revealing he was still erect. She noticed.

“You wanna go again, baby? Kids don’t leave school till 2:30. We have time for an extra fuck”

“C-Can I?”

“Yes, dummy”

She let Nagito choose how to fuck her. He wanted missionary, mostly because he craved intimacy and she did not disappoint. She kissed and praised him, telling him he was good. She held onto him the whole time and cuddled him afterwards. Nagito felt so special, he felt loved. “I can come over when I don’t have work,” she said,“Would you like that?”.

“I’d love that actually”

“You make me happy, Nagito. I could stay here and cuddle all day”

“I feel so lucky”

He yawned, looking at the clock. “Its 10,” he told her. She nuzzled his chest, humming. “Mmmm, let’s take a small nap,” she whispered,“Okay?”. “Okay”. He kissed the top of her head and held her to him, slowly joining her in slumber.

#danganronpa #fanfic #danganronpa goodbye despair #smut #dr nagito #sdr2 nagito #nagito headcanons #nagito smut #nagito x reader #nagito komaeda #nagito komeada x reader #x reader #danganronpa nagito

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myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants · 3 years

Note

Red lily and kirishima?

Alrighty! I am SO SORRY for taking so long but here is Red Lily (Passion) and Kirishima! And as always!

18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: oral! (fem & male receiving), use of recording equipment, "sir", drinking, Denki/Jirou and Baku/Deku, uhhhh i think thats it.

Cam!BoyKiri & Fem!Reader

W/C - 5.7K

“Ahhh ahhhh, mmfff.” Covering your mouth with your hand you try your best to muffle the sounds of your moans however, your partner does not approve.

His large calloused hand grabs your wrist and pins it to your side, slapping your thigh to get your attention. As you drag your blurry eyes to the man between your legs you are once again captivated by the sight. How could you not be, when such a gorgeous giant man is tongue fucking you dumb.

He lifts his head up for a moment, licking cum from his lips and not sounding the least bit winded even though he has been shoving his face in your pussy for what feels like an hour.

“I told you princess,” he slowly dips three fingers into your cunt “how can anyone learn when you aren’t telling them what feels good?” he raises a scarred eyebrow and winks at you before dropping his head back down and resuming his feast.

“Mmmm o-okay Red Ri- Riot.”

*****

When you hear the front door to your apartment slam you know your time has come.

“Y/N! Get your ass out here now!”

As much as you want to avoid this fight you know that if you ignore your roommate Jirou she will just use that ridiculously expensive sound system she has and point it right at your door. You groan as you get up and trudge to your door, easing it open and peeking around it to see her standing at the edge of the hallway. “Nice to see you back babes.” You pull the door open all the way and step out of your room but not any closer “How was your night?”

“How was my night? HOW WAS MY NIGHT?!”

You flinch at the sheer volume of her voice and slide a wry smile on your face. “Was Denki not as good as you thought he would be?”

Jirou throws her hands up and scoffs. “Ya know, I would be a lot less upset if I didn’t have to wake up at THREE IN THE MORNING when Mineta came back to their apartment SOBBING!”

You try to hold in your laugh, unsuccessfully, so while you clutch your chest to try and calm the wheezing Jirous face gets red with anger. “I’m - I’m sorry but he fucking cried? Please tell me you got a picture, or a video.”

“Of course I fucking did but that is beside the point!” You see a hint of a smile on her face but it quickly disappears. “I thought you were gonna handle him for me until today?”

“Did you not get your nut? I gave you five hours ya prude.”

“Of course we had sex you inconsiderate butt munch. But it was quickly overshadowed when Mineta busted into the room without knocking and got a bloody nose when he saw me in bed with Denki.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes. “It was disgusting, the little freak couldn’t decide whether to drool over me or cry over what you said to him, so he did both.”

You’re hunched over laughing with your hands on your knees but one look at your friend's face sobers you up and you walk over to hug her. “I’m sorry, that must have been really uncomfortable.”

She wraps her arms around you and nods. “It really fuckin was, but Denki got up and threw him out of the room so that was satisfying to watch.”

“Was Denki satisfying to fuck?”

Jirou tenses up and pulls away from you. “Changing the subject isn’t gonna make me forgive you.”

“I know, but telling me about the amazing sex you had will make you forget about it.” She glares at the shit eating grin on your face then huffs out a laugh.

“Fine, but you're buying breakfast.”

“Deal! Now,” you wrap an arm around her shoulder and lead her to the living room, “please tell me he started out with foreplay.”

*****

“The idiot got a fuckin nosebleed?”

Denki nods his head, wincing as a large hand claps his back.

“That’s such a bummer dude!” Kirishima looks at him in pity, “but at least you finally got together with Jirou right? You guys gonna hang out again?”

“I wouldn’t want to.” Bakugou laughs over his very large glass of orange juice.

Denki drops his head on the table in defeat while Kirishima looks over at Bakugou with disappointment. “Dude, if you're not gonna say anything nice then don’t say anything at all.”

Bakugou slams his cup back on the table, the juice sloshing in the cup but not spilling over the edge. “When have I ever said anything nice?!”

Kirishima sighs heavily and shakes his head before turning back to his sullen friend. “Why was Mineta crying in the first place?”

Denki's voice is muffled by the table. “Apparently Jirous' friend Y/N said something really mean to him.”

Bakugou laughs, “Wish I could have been there to see it.”

*****

You had been at the club for almost an hour already, still sipping on the same drink and watching Jirou from the corner of your eye. You knew this was a good place to suggest a casual meet up with the guy she liked.

A two story building with a bar on the first floor and a lounge on the second. The second floor lounge was sparsely decorated and boasted a large open fireplace in the middle and various couches and chairs scattered throughout the rest of the space.

As you sit with your back to the bar you radiate a sense of aloof boredom, just enough of a resting bitch face to keep people from being too chummy but not enough for people to outright avoid you.

She looks like she's having fun, that’s all that matters.

“So how long have you and Jirou known each other?”

Shit, I forgot he was next to me.

You put on your customer service smile and turn to the man next to you, Denki’s friend Mineta. “We’ve known each other since grade school, our parents both work in the music industry.”

“So you’ve known each other through like, high school and stuff?” You try your best to ignore the creepy glint in his eyes and cover your cup with your hand.

“Like I said, we’ve known each other since grade school so yes. We went to high school together.”

“So have you like…. Seen each other naked?”

You cringe when the creepy little brat looks up at you. “Excuse me?”

“Well you know, I’ve heard that umm statistically speaking women have seen other women naked more times than men.”

“Mhm, yeah we did.” You down the rest of your drink and before you set the glass on the bar top another one is being slid over to you by the bartender. You roll your eyes at the pity on their face and tip them. “Thanks Midoriya.”

“Anything for my favorite patron.”

“Only cause I tip well.”

He laughs, his emerald eyes shining. “That and your invigorating conversational skills.” Before you can throw a witty retort back Mineta is asking another thinly veiled offensive question and you are back to entertaining him.

Jirou and Denki leave the bar around ten thirty so he can show her his ‘book collection’ . You laugh, telling Jirou to use protection when reading.

For the next couple of hours you take Mineta to a couple of more bars downtown, ones where you know all the bartenders. He continued asking inappropriate questions that were always followed by an excuse as to why they were actually harmless.

You had just arrived at your favorite billiard bar when you decided to ask your own.

“So you’ve had sex right?”

Mineta chokes on his vodka and redbull, “Fuck yeah I have, lots of sex. You look like you have too.” You ignore the last comment and casually sip your water.

“What do you do for foreplay?”

He laughs and you raise an eyebrow. “Foreplay? I just put it in, pussys get wet eventually and if not, that’s what lube’s for.”

You’re silent for a minute, not fully believing that he just actually said that. “I’m sorry?”

“Foreplay takes too long, I satisfy plenty without it.” He smirks at you, placing one of his hands on your thigh. Taking a deep breath you slap his hand off you and put your chin in your hand, glaring at him.

“Have you asked your partners if they were satisfied?” You hold one hand up, signaling air quotations around the word partners.

“No?”

Taking a minute to have another drink of water you turn to him fully. “Then I doubt you have satisfied them at all. Foreplay takes too long? This is why people need to take a class on how to please their partner. You don’t look like you could satisfy yourself with your own hand much less satisfy another human being.” You wave goodbye to the bartender, and grab your purse. “The only satisfying thing about you is that you are as stupid as you look. Don’t worry about your drink, I put it on my tab. Do me a favor and search ‘how to sexually please a woman’ on wikihow, maybe you’ll learn something.”

*****

Somehow you are invited to hangout when Jirou meets up with Denki again.

They are meeting at the same lounge but he is bringing two of his friends so you are tagging along. You made Jirou swear on her sound board that Mineta was not one of those friends.

You both get to the bar first, grabbing a spot with two couches. Midoriya brings your usual and takes Jirous' order, winking when you hand him your card to start a tab.

You’re drinking and chatting when Denki walks in, excitedly waving to you both and walking over to give Jirou a hug. “Hey ladies! These are my buddies,” He turns to the side to introduce them and you choke.

“Looks like someone already knows me.” The tall beefy redhead has a sideways smile and your face goes red. “I go by Kirishima when I’m not working,” he holds out a hand to Jirou to shake and leans down to kiss the back of yours. “But feel free to call me Red if it pleases you.”

The other friend scoffs at you both and walks off to the bar, a sadistic smile on his face when Midoriya looks at him with wide eyes. “The angry one is Bakugo, don’t mind him.”

Denki is trying his best to hold in his laughter while whispering to Jirou, you can guess what he is telling her by the way her mouth drops open and she whips her head over to you.

The guys head to the bar and you try your best to be one with the couch when your friend sits next to you with a smile on her face. “So that’s what you're doing on Saturday nights.”

“Please just kill me now.”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this one babe.”

“I’m fucking lonely okay?”

She puts her hands up. “Hey I’m not judging, it’s perfectly natural to watch camboys.”

“And like I say at the end of every stream,” Kirishima walks up and sits on the armrest of the couch next to you. “I always appreciate your patronage.”

“I have never been more embarrassed in my life.” You finish your drink and try to signal Midoriya for another but he is talking to Bakugou, a flirty smile on his face and a hand on his forearm.

“They’ve known each other for a while.” You look up at the man next to you, Denki and Jirou caught up in their own flirty banter.

“Midoriya and your friend? I’ve never seen him here though.”

“They both are convinced the other doesn’t like them.”

You look back over at the two talking. “Are they fucking blind?”

Kirishima laughs, it’s a deep rumble that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and a shiver go up your spine. “Yeah, they are. Denki and I tried to talk to Bakugou about it once but he’s a little hard headed.”

You giggle when Kirishima knocks on his head with his fist. “Yeah he looks like the stubborn type.”

Your companions have moved to the other couch so Kirishima moves to sit next to you. “Hey uh,” he looks down at his drink, a shy look on his face and a hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

You hurriedly wave your hands in front of you, “Oh no! Please don’t worry about it.” clearing your throat you fidget with the hem of your shirt. “I was just a little flustered, never imagined I would meet you in person.”

He laughs again, and you decide that the sound is more attractive than any you have heard during his streams. “Disappointed?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” You smile when he looks back at you. “Why? You worried Mr. Red Riot?”

He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth looking much more dangerous in real life, you wonder what it would take to get him to bite you. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Hours passed by in a blur, you and Kirishima talked about everything and anything. Denki and Jirou would sometimes join in on your conversation or vice versa. Even the grumpy one came back when Midoriya had to help customers. Eventually Jirou and Denki left together, Bakugou went back to the bar and stayed saying something about ‘stupid Deku’.

When you were both alone you and Kirishima sat in companionable silence for a bit before he offered to take you home. Since you both had been drinking he orders a ride service and while you both wait you check your phone. “Well that’s just rude.”

“Something wrong?”

Shoving your phone back in your purse, you sigh. “The love birds went to my apartment to avoid the pervert.”

Kirishima chuckles, “You talkin about Mineta?”

“Ugh, yeah.”

“I heard you made him cry.”

You grimace, “All I did was tell him some harsh truths, not my fault he can’t take criticism. Besides,” you put your hands on your hips and look up at the man with a scowl on your face. “He deserved it, every bit of it.”

The car arrives and he opens the door for you, “I’m gonna need to hear that story, want to go to my place? Bakugou said he was…. sleeping, somewhere else tonight.”

You hesitate to answer for a moment, not wanting him to assume anything was gonna happen but from the look on his face and the tone of his voice you knew he wasn’t expecting anything. “I would love to.”

The ride to his apartment is quiet, not wanting to inadvertently offend the driver with your story you save it for later. When you arrive Kirishima helps you out of the car and thanks the driver before placing his large hand on the small of your back, guiding you to the front door. You almost stumble, very aware of the size of his hand compared to your body.

It’s so warm

He unlocks the door and you head inside, Kirishima turning on lights while calling back to you. “Feel free to make yourself at home. If you want, I can start heating up water for tea.”

You take off your shoes and place your purse on the table next to the door, grabbing your phone and following his voice. “That sounds good to me, could you tell me where the-”

“Restroom is the second door on the right, Bakugou is a neat freak so it’s spotless, don't worry.”

You head to the restroom, controlling the urge to open the other doors on your way. After taking care of yourself you shoot a quick text to your roommate letting her know where you are and to text you when her and Denki are done ‘reading’.

You get to the kitchen and sit at the table, telling Kirishima about your interaction with Mineta. By the time you are done the tea is steeping in front of you both and he is wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

“Ya know, I was gonna make it a point to beat that idiot for what he said but your response was so perfect I would just be kicking a man while he’s down.”

You stand up, giggling and bow a couple of times. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.”

When you sit back down, Kirishima has his hand on his chin, a look of contemplation on his face. “A class on how to please their partners huh?”

“I don’t know, I’ve been with quite a few guys who had the same mentality as that idiot. Would be nice if someone could teach them what foreplay is.”

“Like a lecture? Or do you mean a live example?”

You shrug your shoulders. “What would a textbook do? Might as well have someone record a tutorial, the recipient would just need to say what feels good out loud.”

“That’s a good idea, most of those people watch porn anyway, might as well make it informative.”

You look over at Kirishima and blush at his smoldering gaze. “Umm, yeah that’s what I was thinking too.”

“Mind if I ask you a personal question?”

Your heartbeat picks up, “Go ahead.”

The smile that appears on his face is down right predatorial. “How vocal are you with your partners?”

*****

You were nervous sure, but so fucking ready. Kirishima had set all of his recording stuff up in his room, after making sure you were 100% comfortable with it, and made sure to let you know that you can stop at any point in time.

“I’m not doing this live stream. Don’t want you caring about what my viewers are thinking if you wanna stop.”

You’re standing off to the side with your arms wrapped around yourself, chewing your lips. “Thank you, that actually makes me feel a lot better.”

After moving stuff around, Kirishima looks over at you in concern. “Are you really okay with this?”

“I’m fine.” he raises a scarred eyebrow, “I promise! I think I'll be less nervous once we get started.”

Kirishima raises both eyebrows and slowly smiles. “Eager are we?”

“Are you kidding me? If you were to grab me by the throat, force my mouth open and spit in it I would say thank you sir.” your face goes red when you realize what you just said. “I-I mean you’re fuckin hot and….. Easy to talk to, and….”

He walks up to you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “It’s alright! Not like I haven't had someone tell me that before.” You huff out a laugh. “I mean not to my face but it was cute coming from you.”

You groan in embarrassment, then Kirishima grabs your hand and guides you towards a chair in view of the camera and your heartbeat picks up. He gently grabs your chin and tilts your face up, moving closer till you can feel his breath on your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please”

He closes the distance, pressing his lips softly against yours as you lay your hands on his chest. The kiss is sweet until you feel his tongue swipe against the seam of your lips and whimper. He growls, sitting down on the chair and pulling you on top of him before cupping your face and kissing you again, biting your bottom lip and thrusting his tongue into your mouth when you gasp at the sweet pain.

Pulling back Kirishima coos at the look on your face. “Did you like when I bit you?”

“Mhm” you nod your head, licking your bottom lip. “Do it more… please.”

“Of course princess.”

You shiver at the name. “Oh god please keep calling me that too.”

Placing his hands on your hips, Kirishima kisses your lips again, biting your lip then kissing down your jaw to your ear. “Anything else princess?”

“T-touch me.”

“Where would you like me to touch you?”

You moan as he kisses down your neck, biting just hard enough to not break the skin. “Anywhere… everywhere.”

He chuckles darkly, slowly dragging his hands from your hips up your sides. You squirm in his lap and drape your arms on his shoulders.

“You’re so soft.” he nips then licks your shoulder. “I would never get tired of touching you.”

Huffing with impatience you grab his wrists and bring his hands up to your breasts. He stops just shy of palming them. “You know, if you wanted me to touch you here you should have been more specific.”

You arch your back pushing your breasts out. Your nipples are hard, visible through the thin material of your top. “Don’t be gentle, I like it rough.”

Kirishima answers by grabbing your breasts softly while lowering his head to bite your nipples. Your hands drag up the back of his neck to grab his hair as you cry out in broken mewls.

He alternates between biting and sucking on your nipples rolling and pinching the other one between his fingers. When he pulls away you take your shirt off, he reaches behind you and unclasps your bra, which follows your shirt to the floor.

You sit up a bit on his lap and help him remove his shirt before you cup his face and kiss him. It’s messy and ravenous, you whimper when his teeth scrape against your lips.

When he pulls away again he goes right back to playing with your nipples.

He feels you buck in his lap and looks up at you. “You gonna cum princess? Just from me playing with your nipples?”

You nod your head. “Yes, please don’t stop. M’so close.”

Kirishima grins, pushing both of your breasts together and managing to get both nipples in his mouth. Lathing his tongue over both before nibbling on them, paying attention to your breathing and the shallow rocking of your hips. When your breathing gets quicker and your hips stutter he sucks them hard and you cum moaning loudly.

He massages your breast while you come down from your high, kissing along your collarbone.

“Can we lay down?”

“Of course. Hold on to me.” Kirishima kisses the tops of your breasts and picks you up walking over to the bed and gently laying you down atop it. “I wanna see all of you,” he grabs the waist of your pants, “I’m gonna take these off okay?”

“Only if I can see you too.” you answer with a smirk.

“You will, but I have a woman to satisfy first.” He pulls your pants off, taking your panties with them and pushes your thighs apart.

He lays down between your legs and slides them over his shoulders, you clutch the sheets in your fists. When you make eye contact you think you might cum that second, seeing a man you had touched yourself to countless times in between your legs was driving you crazy. Kirishima winks, then looks down at your already soaked pussy. “Thank you for the meal.”

He goes straight for your clit, swirling his tongue around it and moaning at the taste. When you cross your legs behind his head and press him harder against your cunt he ruts into the mattress.

“Oh - oh god….m’gonna cum.” Your eyes roll back. “I-I don’t wanna cum yet….. Please.”

Kirishima takes his mouth off your clit as soon as the words are out of your mouth. Kissing the insides of your thighs when you uncross your legs. “I’m sorry princess, was that too much?”

You struggle to get the words out, panting from trying to hold back your orgasm. “A little yeah….It felt amazing but I like….. too amazing.” You look down at him again, “Maybe a little slower? Feel free to use your fingers too.”

“Want me to tell you when you can cum?”

You groan, the heat in your core getting hotter just from his words. “Fuck….. yes please.”

He chuckles, giving one of your thighs a playful bite before moving one of his hands up and sticking one of his fingers in his mouth. You can’t help but shiver when he pulls it out and it’s glistening with spit.

He brings it to your pussy, dragging the tip through your moist folds. “I was taught to never play with my food...” he slowly pushes his thick rough finger into your hole, “but for you I can make an exception.”

“You’re gonna kill me.”

By the time he is done sucking out your soul he lets you cum only 3 times. You had gone from actively voicing your pleasure to tiredly trying to hold them in until he argued against it.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy.” Kirishima sits up, not bothering to wipe his face of your slick. When you wince while stretching your sore legs out he starts rubbing them down.

You moan at the feeling of his large warm hands working out the tense muscles. “Holy shit, I might cum just from you massaging me. Feels so goooooood.” After a few minutes of basking in the orgasmic afterglow you sit up, placing your hands on his chest and kiss him softly. “You’re turn big guy.”

“I thought this was about you princess.” He smiles at you, all teeth and shiny lips.

You push him till he steps off the bed, “This is about satisfying ‘partners’. You are also my partner so you also need to be satisfied.” You slide off the bed and get on your knees in front of him. “Would you like to give me commands?” You see his cock throb in his pants.

“As fun as that sounds, I want to see what you do without them.”

Your smile is feline, lifting your hands to his stomach and dragging them back down by your nails. He moans and throws his head back. “F-fuck.”

You lick your lips as you unbutton his pants, not one for being patient you tug them off as soon as the zipper is down. Your mouth starts watering at the sight of his cock, the sound of it hitting his stomach echoing in your brain. You cup his balls, weighing them in your hand and kissing each one.

Kirishima thinks his heart might stop in his chest. Dragging a finger from his shaft to the head, you watch mesmerized as it twitches at the small movement. You smear the drop of pre resting on the head of his dick, then lick it off. Humming at the taste you swirl your tongue around, softly squeezing his balls while you do so.

When you close your lips around him and suck, Kirishima shivers and places one of his hands on your head. You lift up with a pop and look up at him through your lashes. “Feel free to be rough with me, pull my hair or hold my head if you want.” His lashes flutter at your words. “What did you say to me earlier?” You mockingly tap his cock in contemplation. “Oh yes! Thank you for the meal.”

Sticking out your tongue you flatten it against him and lick every inch of his cock, all 7 of them. You’re gonna need every advantage to fully deep throat him and with his girth a sore jaw is the least of your worries. When you're done, saliva has coated your lips and Kirishima has an almost too tight grip on your hair.

You waste no time, going down on him little by little; giving your throat time to relax and take all of his cock. By the time you manage to get far enough to feel his groomed pubic hair on your nose both of you are breathing heavily.

You can feel his thighs tensing under your hand, his balls moving with every breath. You are tempted to touch yourself but refrain, although you can feel the slick dripping down your thighs; this is about him.

You keep your head still for a moment, enjoying the feel of him in your throat. When you hum, the vibrations caress his cock and he pushes your head impossibly closer to him until you push back. Although you were enjoying yourself, you can’t help but gag and cough a little when you pull your mouth off of him.

“As much as I enjoy this sight,” Kirishima lets go of your hair and reaches down to pick you up, pleasing you on the bed again. “I want to fuck you so bad…”

Your mouth drops open, you can’t help it. When have you ever experienced a man, a very attractive inside and out man, expressing his desire to you.

“Is that a no?” Kirishima Backs up a step, worried that he had crossed a line.

“Oh no! I’m sorry….I just..” you grab his hands and pull him closer to you. “I never imagined I’d hear someone say that without assuming I would say yes.”

You sit up, getting on your knees at the edge of the bed and grabbing his face, pulling him into a kiss. As you slowly back up he crawls on the bed to follow you, never breaking the kiss until finally you are laying down with him over you.

You whimper as you feel the head of his cock drag through your wet folds a few times before pushing into you. He goes slowly, almost cumming at the feeling of your gummy walls squeezing his cock with every inch.

You both moan when he is fully seated inside, his heavy balls resting on your ass and pelvis pressed against yours. His cock twitches inside you, the head pressing against your deepest parts and you come undone. Kirishima breaks the kiss and looks down at you with a slight smug look on his handsome face. “That good huh?”

“Oh shut up and fuck me already.” You look at him with blurry eyes and a smile on your face.”

He pulls out halfway then ruts back into you, pulling another moan out of your mouth. “Like that?” He pulls out again, this time slowly until just the head is inside before slowly pushing back in. “Or is that better?”

“Either, both just please keep going.” You drag your nails down his back and he starts moving inside you, starting out with shallow thrusts.

“Fuck, you feel so good princess.”

You mewl in pleasure, coming undone again at his words.

“That’s it baby, cum on my cock.” Kirishima picks up his pace, drunk on the face and noises you make when cumming. When he grabs one of your legs and pushes it into your chest your mouth opens in a silent scream, your body running towards that cliff one more time.

“Ah, ah, ah, hold that one in.”

Your eyes snap open, Kirishima lifts his head up from the side of your face and looks at you. “Don’t cum again till I say so.”

You whimper but nod your head, using all of your willpower to deny your orgasm. “Yes, Sir.” You said the words as a joke but Kirishima's hips stutter and he groans.

“Say it again.”

You have just enough left over energy to smirk. “I said, yes. Sir.”

He swears, changing the angle of his hips and pounding into you with reckless abandon. You're seeing stars and losing your mental grip on holding your orgasm back. Both Kirishima and you don’t know how much longer you can last. Not wanting to wait any longer you decide to make him give in first.

“Please Sir, can I cum?” tears are slowly dripping from your eyes, the pleasure building dangerously but at your words you can feel his cock twitch inside you. “I wanna cum on your cock, please sir. Cum with me, wanna feel it.”

You are both at your wits end. “Your princess wants to cum with you sir please!”

Kirishima cums first, moaning with every hot rope of cum that coats your insides. The twitching of his cock and broken moans that fall from his mouth tip you over the edge soon after.

Kirishima just barely manages to catch himself before collapsing on top of you, slowly pulling out and flopping over to the side.

You both lay there in silence, catching your breath. You finally realize that cum is leaking out and manage to sit up and walk to the bathroom. After cleaning yourself up and going back to the bedroom you see that Kirishima has put some sweatpants on and is turning off his recording equipment.

“Well shit.”

He looks up at you in confusion.

You laugh awkwardly while a slight blush dusts your cheeks. “I… kinda forgot we were recording that.”

*****

Many years later…..

“I can’t believe Scarlet is in high school already.” Eijirou, your husband, walks out of the bathroom, freshly showered.

You're sitting on a bench in front of the window, reading a book. Already dressed since you had to take your daughter to school for her first day. “I hope it's not too terrible, I hated high school.”

“Aww babe,” He walks up to you kissing the top of your head. “It can’t be that terrible.”

You huff out a laugh and look at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me? Kids are fucking terrible, teenagers are worse. They try their best to find anything to make fun of you.”

Later that day

The front door to your home opens and slams shut and the sound of someone running up the stairs follows. You walk out of the kitchen confused, looking toward where your daughter has run to her room then at the front door when your husband walks in. His face is beet red, eyes watering just slightly.

“What the hell happened?”

“I HATE BOTH OF YOU!” Scarlet screams down the stairs then slams her bedroom door shut, muffled sounds of crying worrying you further.

“Turns out teenagers are very horrible…. And so are we.” Eijirous face is filled with guilt and you walk over to cup his face.

“What happened honey?”

He turns his face away from you and sighs heavily. “Turns out some of the fathers recognized you when you dropped her off at school.”

“No.”

“And some of the moms recognized me when I picked her up.”

“Oh god.”

“One of them called me Red Riot.”

@eyebagsbutglam @doinmybesthere @patchworkpuzzle @sendhelpimstupid

#kirishima eijirou #eijirou x reader #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you #eijirou x y/n #eijirou x you #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x y/n #lillith masterlist #lillith writes #lilliths writing

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neko-rogers · 3 years

Text

But It’s Better If You Do

Trying to keep your relationship with your professor was easy enough, until you learned that someone had found out about it.

words: 7,424 tags: manipulative!peter, explicit noncon/dubcon elements, degredation, implied overstimulation, blackmailing, kidnapping, college student and professor relationship,

a/n: whew this had a lot of words compared to what i usually write. plus, since im bad at titles, i’ll just use my fav song titles lmao. (ps. erik lehnsherr aka magneto is here and im just glad i could put him in my little fictional world bc im d biggest slut for him)

A complete lie, you just did not want to deal with college fuck boys.

The man in front of the class was practically pouring his heart out into the lecture. The chalkboard was filled with white letterings from left to right, not knowing where to start as you take down notes.

“It is important to keep in mind that bimolecular structure and function are dictated by the properties of the medium in which they are dissolved,” your professor explains while continually pacing from one end to the other among the students seated at the first row.

You decided to seat around the middle to the last row, knowing it was the least obvious way for other students in the class to notice how much you fawn over your Organic Chemistry professor rather than the subject itself.

Honestly you could listen to him talk for hours. All those information he had been discussing would not actually process through your thoughts. You knew that better than anyone.

But who honestly would invalidate your reason? Everyone can probably relate to hating Chemistry, no matter what subcategory it is.

Considering that this was probably one of the most difficult courses you had in your program. You were just thankful and lucky enough you landed on one of the hottest professors amongst the campus.

“Hey what did Professor Lehnsherr say about the problems during synthesis of proteins?” Peter asks.

In spite of being fortunate about everything else about this subject, you were not quite happy about Peter Parker following you around like a lost puppy. Especially during the classes you both have alike.

The boy constantly asks so much questions as if you were the teacher already. In addition, he seemed smart enough to figure things out yet somehow he keeps on bugging you for reassurance.

You did not want to be rude. He has not done anything to completely deserve your rage, however he was definitely getting on your nerves.

Honestly you would not want to be infuriated over his consistent queries, but you were just as distracted as he was, maybe even more. With this, you were looking dumber to him each day.

To anyones pride, it was probably a kick in the stomach. You knew you were not the brightest in this class, but it was best to leave the information to yourself. No need for anyone to point out how mindless you were.

And you really were not. You had other Science subjects you totally excel at. Sadly, Chemistry was just not one of them.

“Well, uh, I don’t think I got that part either.” You look aside where he was seated and awkwardly smiled at him before mentioning an apology, “Sorry, Peter.”

In return, Peter smiled at you and dismissed the question. You were not so sure whether to forget about it or take even the least bit of offense. You felt a little mocked by how easily he did it and innocently he smiled, but maybe you were just overthinking this through.

“It’s fine,” he tells. “I just didn’t get the third bullet, but I’ll try to review it in the textbook when I get home.”

“Oh okay, sure.”

“Speaking about reviewing,” Again, Peter tries to start another discourse.

“I was wondering if you got reviewers for the upcoming text for next week? We all know how difficult Professor Lehnsherr’s exams can get, right?” He lets out a forced chuckle, assuming it could lighten the mood.

As much as he tried to make small talks with you, almost everyday, today you really feel like you did not want to return the favor. Especially after having to bring up the test next week.

“I don’t really make reviewers, I usually just scan the books I have at home.”

Lies. You probably have a box full of index cards and sticky notes in your room.

You tried to use every studying tips every corner of the Internet could give. All those study-life hacks that really did not help much but pile up to your disorganized state of mind.

You fucking tried to study Chemistry. You really did.

“What, you don’t?!” He suddenly exclaims, not realizing the loudness of his voice as it almost caught the attention from people at front. “You seem to be busy all the time though. It’s like I always catch your writing or reading something in class.”

Maybe your mood was just off but it definitely seemed weird for him to say that. Though, you did not want to make something from what he said. It was not worth your time.

“I guess people are not always what they seem to be, yeah?”

Again, Peter gives out that soft chuckle and smile, “Then I guess so. You do make a point.”

He does not argue with you any further.

“Can I at least borrow your Physics book? I only bought Chemistry and Biotech for the semester. Didn’t know they would actually utilize it for once,” he scoffs.

At first you hesitated. You were reviewing for it too, but you already felt bad for being no help whenever he asks a question and often times disregarding him when your mood if off. Plus, you did just make it look like you were not much of a study-freak.

“Okay.”

He instinctively fist pumps the air and looks at you with a wide, grateful grin. “Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver, Y/N.”

“Don’t mention it.” You grab the book he needs from your bag and hands it to him. He accepts it and places it inside his while also clearing the rest of his things.

Looking at his digital wristwatch wherein he raised his index finger up as if he figured something out of it, he says, “He’s going to dismiss the class in a few minutes. We should get ready for Cell Biology next period.

Oh how you hated it. Were you jumping to conclusions? Or was this boy really trying to be too close with you? Or was he just being nice and informing you to prepare ahead?

God, you did not give Peter Parker the right to cloud up your thoughts like this.

“Thanks,” you say, “but I need to talk to Professor Lehnsherr after class. Have to, uh, consult him about my concept paper that he made us submit last week.”

As he tidies his notebooks up and carelessly shoves it inside his backpack, he immediately looks back at you with a confused expression, “Oh, I can always wait for you–”

“It’s fine, Peter. Thank you though.” Two of your hands were instinctively waving in front of you, a meek gesture for him to stop coddling you or whatever move he had been trying to make at you.

“Are you sure? I–”

And if you were ought to be saved further from lashing out over Peter’s incessant attempts, you finally heard the words any student was longing to hear. “Class dismissed. I’ll see you all on Monday.”

“Eri–err, Professor Lensherr just dismissed the class. Better catch up to him before he heads out,” you hurriedly said. And with a loud slam from your notebook, you quickly shut him out. In addition, you practically shoved every thing in front of you into your bag without sparing a second glance.

One strap of your back was slung over your shoulder as you hurriedly flew down the aisle. Professor Lehnsherr was midway into packing his things before you interrupted and approached him.

“Professor,” you call out. “I have a question. About the paper I handed in last week.”

“Uhuh.” He faintly furrows his eyebrows, trying to hide his already obvious bewilderment. “I forgot which assignment was that, Ms. Y/L/N.”

There were students still exiting in class. So you tried your best to make your conversation with him less suspicious. He was most likely doing the same.

“It was about the Chemistry-proposal thing.” You snapped your fingers a few times as you gathered your train of thought, but realizing it was not going effectively. “Well I just wanted to confirm it since, you know, I was hoping for any feedback from you throughout this week.”

“I’m not sure if I have read it. I’ve certainly been busy this week,” he clarifies. “Nonetheless, we can talk about it later. Thank you for bringing it up. I’ll make sure to follow it up in my schedule, Ms. Y/N.”

Both of you made your way out the door once there were only a minuscule amount of students left in class. You probably had been looking at your professor with gushing stares, but you doubt the other people in the room could notice it. They were farther away from where both of you stood, much less would they be able to hear what the two of your were talking about.

“Oh thank you so much, sir!” You almost cried out and jumped in joy while reaching through the threshold. Moreover, you composed yourself before mumbling out, “I’ll see you later, Eric.”

In which you were certain no one would have heard it besides him.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

“I’m sure you’ll get a good grade in the exams, Y/N,” Eric leans back to his seat with a humble smile upon his face.

“Really? I doubt so, there’s a kid in your class that keeps bugging me out to a study date, or whatever you call it,” you sneer. You lick your lips as you finish taking a sip around the wine glass, setting it down and looking back at the man you were having dinner with. “It’s getting very annoying though, he surely knows how to get on my nerves.”

“I’m sure he’s just trying to flirt with you, like any other college boys do.” He optimistically and maturely lays out the options. “It’s pretty normal for anyone to chase someone they are fond of, especially for young adults like you.”

It was a pretty obvious sign that he was trying to let his message reach you.

“Well, I apologize for my standards of men,” you say. “I just want to skip the whole heartbreak in college and character development. All that stuff you usually see in a typical teen romance movie.”

You sigh, looking down and saying, “I already found a man for me. Why would I stoop down for some guy who’s most likely wanting something from me, and dumping me once he got what he wanted.”

“Y/N, I don’t blame you for liking men that’s ten years older than you,” Eric assures. “But I want you to realize that you still have a lot to look forward after graduating

“And I look forward for you too!” You tried to not raise your voice, though having dinner in his house wouldn’t really catch anyones attention. “I can’t wait to finally graduate from second semester and be able to spend more time, publicly, with you.”

“Yes, I understand, honey.” He places his hand over yours as he tries to calm you down. “Like I said, I just want you to make sure that you’ve clearly thought this through.”

Eric adds, “There’s plenty of men out there. I don’t want to take away your opportunity of experiencing something new at such a young age.”

“I’m turning twenty-four! I promise you I’m thinking everything through.” Your voice was much weaker than a few seconds ago. The evident tone of strength fades even with one glance from the man in front of you. You felt yourself shrink in your seat. But you were sure he does not intend to frighten you into compliance.

“Sorry,” you pout. “Didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

“I understand, and I won’t pressure you any more tonight, okay?” He tries to uplift your mood, detecting quickly the shift of the room’s atmosphere. “You deserve a good dinner tonight, like I promised, sweetie.”

His smile made you calmer. It was then that you realized why you were attracted to a man like him even if he was still your teacher.

The way he handles you in any given situation so sensibly. Though it may feels intimidating at first, he consequently tries to override the tone of the conversation which cheers you up.

With one hand, he hold yours and gently draws it towards him at the same moment he leans his head down. Eric presses a kiss against the back of your hand and you butterflies immediately fill inside your stomach. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Every doubt you had entirely disappeared now. If there were hints of you hesitating to continue seeing Eric, they were certainly long gone now.

“Let me drive you home after dinner,” he offers, like the gentleman he is.

Eric always does make sure you get home safe. However, you both agreed that he drops you off at least a block away from your house. Just in case people around your neighborhood might catch you, or worse your parents.

It was not like you were ashamed of your relationship with Eric. Cautious was the term.

You were only a few months in seeing him. Fair enough, he was your second semester professor and the both of you met before that period.

You were not only risking the wrath of your parents once they hear you’re dating an older man, let alone your Chemistry teacher. But you were also putting him at risk if ever his faculty finds out.

Eventually, the two of you pack up and end your conversation. Other than talking about college, the two of you also talk more about yourselves which has progressed you into learning more about each other’s personalities and likes.

He helps you out of his house and into the passenger seat of his car. It had been more than thrice wherein he drove you home, and the familiar scent of leather and the typical Glad air fresheners has clung onto your nose. You strap on your seatbelt on just as he was getting inside the driver’s side.

The ride was not entirely dead silent. Eric made a few more small talks before finally turning a right which was where he usually drops you off. It amazes you how instantly he remembered the way to your home, as you instructed him the first time.

“Thank you for tonight, like always, Eric.”

As always, you made your way out of his car prior to giving him a kiss. You only had to walk straight ahead, glancing at your home which had one dim light illuminating through one window.

Upon entering the house, you figured your parents were already asleep and a hint of the living room lamp was present. Taking the benefit of not having to be interrogated by anyone, you rushed upstairs to your bedroom, turned on the lights, and immediately closed the door behind you with a sigh of relief. A smile was also visible after recalling your night with Eric.

As you made your way towards your bed, a piece of paper lays obvious in the middle of it. Your sheets were flattened and tidied, so you could obviously detect when something is placed on top of it. You have no memory of leaving it early in the morning before you left too.

When picking the paper up, you realized it was a piece of polaroid film. Its back was facing you, having no idea what to expect at the front.

At that point, the smile from your face turned into horror and all the color in you basically drained away.

The picture displayed you and Eric at one dinner night out from a few days ago, you still remember. It could have been anything but malicious, but the way his hand was intertwined with yours as both of you laugh away without worries. It was clear as day, the light shining perfectly at the both of you. Anyone can conclude what was happening in the picture.

You did not know this day would come. The picture was taken from Eric’s home to prevent such things like this from happening. So it puzzled you just as much at it terrified you.

This was definitely someone who had been stalking either one of you. It was not a mere instance like paparazzis who catch celebrities dating on the streets of New York.

Someone definitely have been observing the two of you.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

Days have passed, a week almost. Examinations are scheduled for tomorrow.

And you prayed that the picture you received would be the only thing terrorizing your dreams. But you were completely wrong.

From thereon, you started to receive more pictures, specifically one every morning and night, from your past hangouts with Eric. It were simple shots but had the power to completely jeopardize either one of you, mostly him at stake though.

It was obvious that the person behind this was definitely observing the two of you for a while. Probably even during the most earliest weeks when your relationship with him started.

Though it may seem unfair, you did not mention anything about it to Eric. It was enough the he was keeping with you, his job, and himself private – which clearly was not working out so well. You felt like it was your responsibility to handle this situation. You were so sure you did not try to publicize anything and kept it on the low.

Nevertheless, it was out there. Eric had not mentioned anything so you assumed he did not receive a picture like you did.

Currently, you were seated at the farthest row at the back of the room, somewhat near the corner. Physics was your last subject and you could not wait but finally leave.

In addition, you texted Eric that you would not be seeing him until after the exams. It was an easy excuse not to see him, saying that you wanted to focus on studying for it; however, you knew that you would just be busy thinking about the creepy stalker gallery you have been receiving.

“Hey.” Unsurprisingly, a familiar voice whispers next to you which disrupts your heavy train of thoughts. “You finished studying for tomorrow? I’m about to end my review with Chemistry later.”

“Cool.” Probably the one of the most basic replies in the universe. “I haven’t finished studying, I’m kind of dealing with a lot of things recently.”

You made sure to generalize your answer, but enough for him to sympathize and at least give you some space.

“Oh, sorry to hear about that.” Peter frowns. He takes his seat a few desks away from your left, leaving you to continue thinking. You were thankful for his gesture too.

Surprisingly enough the boy barely bothered you for the entire lecture. You were still engrossed on finding out whoever was stalking you, even so dating back to boys you evidently rejected during the first semester – who badmouthed you immediately afterwards. There were not a lot of names, so it was easy to remember who was who.

You traced back to each boy and remembered what they said after you told them you were not ready to enter a relationship – a complete lie, you just did not want to deal with college fuck boys.

Just as you expected from any of them, rumors have spread out about you which was mostly shaming you physically or mentally. Some were milder insults than the other yet at the end of the day you did not care.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself. “Who was that boy at Liz’s party.”

Your eyes were sealed shut, recalling a list of names while using your thumb and middle finger to massage your temples. It was getting frustrating and mentally exhausting.

After some time, you had so much word filling in and our of your brain that you were not aware that your own name was being called. Your heart practically skipped a beat after hearing it the first time, assuming that you were being called to recite an answer. But you became content after seeing that it was just Peter, who started tapping your arm to get your attention.

“Huh?” You lightly shake your head before turning your head aside.

“Oh, class was dismissed a few minutes earlier than usual–”

“Don’t forget to answer the assignment regarding thermodynamic concepts found it the book. You’ll hand it in immediately on Wednesday.” The professor addresses the class as they were already carrying their bags and themselves out the room.

You start placing your stationeries inside yours, packing your other things up until it was only a pair of earphones and your phone left in front. Peter stood near the aisle while looking at you just as you were zipping your bag shut.

“Oh shoot, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he states out of nowhere causing you to furrow your eyebrows at him. “I forgot I still haven’t returned your Physics book I borrowed last week.”

Nodding your head and standing up, you shrug it off. “It’s fine. You can return it tomorrow.”

“Sure, but how will you do your Physics assignment?”

Oh yeah. Your professor literally reminded the class a few seconds ago.

“I think I might be able to do it overnight. How many pages is the task?”

“Eight, or nine I think.” He frowns looking very guilty at you.

“Shit,” you swore. That was a lot of pages than the usual assignments given.

“Yeah, professor said it could help add points if you somehow get a bad grade at the tests.”

“Never mind,” you tried to set his mistake aside. “I’ll try to do it within overnight tomorrow. I can ask for help from my friend tomorrow morning and–”

“Wait! I realized you can stop by my apartment to get it.”

“Oh–er, Peter, I don’t think I have time to–

“It’s just nearby the campus, I promise,” he assures and adds, “it wouldn’t be a hassle, it’s probably on your way home anyway so it won’t make a difference.”

“Uhm.” You were doubtful of him.

However, you did realize that you did not have anything to do after class. You were keeping distance with Eric for the meantime which meant that your schedule was mostly vacant after this.

“Please,” he begs, “I feel so bad for keeping it the whole week. I swear it’s like a few blocks from here.”

“Would it take more than twenty minutes?” You purse your lips, convincing yourself that you would rather force yourself to study at home than spend it at someone’s apartment.

“I only take around ten minutes to walk so,” he answers. “Unless you’re a slow walker, of course.” The tone of his voice seeming to be joking.

Again, he pleads. This kid will not fucking budge.

“Fine,” you blurt out. Though, you realized your sudden-almost lash out moment at the boy that you made sure to reiterate it but slower, “I mean, sure. I can stop by your apartment to pick up my book.”

An awaited smile and sense of agreement washes over you.

Peter then leads the way as you walked behind him, maintaining a short distance so people would not throw out any suspicious looks. Like in every college, everyone knows just how fast gossips formulate and rumors spread.

If you think about it though, it might avert anyone’s suspicion – mainly pertaining to your creepy stalker – with you and your Professor. But you were not prepared for that yet, maybe some time when you can finally think about its consequences through.

True to his word, as the both of you exited the campus, it took a short time before the boy in front of you told that you were about to enter through the entrance to the building of his apartment. You were not so sure if it was really a momentary walk or because you were so focused on thinking and keeping a distance.

At some points he did often look back in case you got lost from following him. Plus, like always, he asked you simple questions either about your day or your subjects to make small talk. In which case, you were barely answering him but definitely progressed compared to when he attempted for previous times during class.

In addition, as the two of you walked down the block, the number of faces you could only assume was in college decreased. Meaning that the glares at you eased up.

“Well, here’s my location.” A loud huff follows as he uses a key to unlock the door for the entrance to the building, “It wasn’t that far, was it?”

“Yeah, I guess it wasn’t that far.” You agree as he holds the door for you and then walks right after you.

As Peter leads you upstairs onto around the fourth level, he proceeds to walk along the corridors. The array of same beige colored doors with small golden indents of unit numbers paraded along it too. Eventually he stops and inserts a key into the lock, twisting it until hearing the unlocking sound.

For a moment you hesitated to follow him. You just wanted your book and you were sure he can give it to you on a shorter span than your walk from campus to here. Was it that troublesome?

Entering his complex, you discovered how minimalistic it looked. To be fair it seemed quite small, the living room instantly greeting you through the entrance and a kitchenette at the side. But since his things were tidied up, it looked roomy.

You instinctively close the door behind you, slightly aware that it did not create a locking sound. Following Peter, you took a few more steps until you stood still at the passageway between his living room and entryway.

“Do you want a drink?” Peter asks.

“No thank you.” You were still trying to subtle. “I just want my Physics book, Peter. Please?”

He looked at you and paused for a split second. You could feel the frown behind the expressionless look. “Yeah. Okay. Sure,” he nods for a few times before turning around and proceeding to a seemingly narrow hallway. “I’ll get it in my room. Be back in a second.”

Your feet faintly paced back and forth, still where you stood a few meters between the entrance and living room. After a few more minutes, Peter emerges carrying the familiar book with one hand.

He approaches you within a few stops but stops in his tracks, leaving a distance from you. “Well uh,” he starts as his chin was tucked.

“I just want to tell you something before I hand you back your book.” He looks up at you with really pleading eyes. During other instances in university, you were definitely familiar with that look. However, this one probably ranked as one of the most downhearted ones.

You did not want to feel regretful for him. Though it definitely feels like you just kicked a puppy.

“Was is it?”

“I love you,” he blurts out as his face goes back from hiding and looking down.

It seemed awkward. You were somewhat expecting it, but you were also hoping that this day would not come – or not at least until you graduate and leave the university.

“Oh.” You honestly did not want to react.

Were you going to say sorry? How about thank you? Would it be better if you said you did not like him back? Or will the best response be that you are already taken?

“Peter, I–”

“Are you really dating Eric?” He shots up with eyes appearing almost teary.

What. The. Fuck.

“No,” you mutter. It was not much of an answer to his question. It was more on being quite horrified as your mind started jumping to conclusions.

The amount of things running around your mind right now was immeasurable.

Firstly, anyone could make two and two out of what he said, especially knowing that no one knows it even so around your circle of friends.

Secondly, you should have thought better. Your doubts with Peter should have been grater and you totally underestimated him. However, some part of you prayed that he was just an annoyingly awkward nerd who follows his friends regarding flirting tips.

Lastly, you turned around and ran.

You probably got your way with opening the door and taking two steps out. It was not long before you felt arms wrap around your waist and either side of your arms. You were then lifted and pulled behind while you tried to kick at the air as an escape. Did not work though.

Peter was surprisingly stronger than you thought. He already seemed fairly muscular at class, hiding behind those long sleeved sweaters and flannels.

Eventually the last thing you remember was the image of the door of his apartment open while you get sucked into the room further. Everything went black afterwards.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

When you felt that you were slowly restoring to consciousness, you were aware of the pounding at the back of your head and your arms.

You tried to move your hands, wanting to press against the parts of your body that were aching. But you felt incapacitated as your wriggled your wrists around and felt an unfamiliar sticky fluid enveloping around them.

“Glad you’re awake,” a voice says. “Does your head hurt?”

You tried to open your eyes, the dark lighting of the room not cooperating with your vision. A light from the window and a lamp were the only things that helped you form something out of the void.

From there you saw Peter Parker sitting closely beside you at the edge of the bed.

Hell please let this be a nightmare.

“What–” You groan, “What do you want from me.”

Your mind was building up your anger yet your body says otherwise. You felt exhausted and heavy.

Peter shushed you in a caring manner, “We’ll talk when you feel better. I’ll let you get more rest okay, sweetie?”

“Uhh.”

That was what you could remember the most. If you have awoken for other times in between your sleep, then you surely did not have an idea of it.

When you finally woke up, the level of your grogginess felt little to none already. You looked around and saw that the room was still dark and seemingly still nighttime.

As your head was twisting from side to side, you saw Peter appear from the doorway carrying a translucent cup filled with water in one hand. “Hey, you’re finally awake.”

Instead of replying to him, your wrists writhe beneath the fluid that you are still not familiar of. You could not really look up to get a good view of what it was, but it was wet, sticky, and felt like super glue.

On the other hand, both your legs, ankles, and feet were free. The back of your thighs bounced against the bed as you struggled, but it would not do much since your arms were practically stuck.

“Fuck,” you grumble.

“That won’t help. You’re pretty much stuck there,” he says, Then he takes a seat at the edge of the bed, alike where you remembered him positioned from earlier, “Might as well talk to me until I let you go.”

“Okay then, when will you let me go?” Your voice was calm hoping you could talk your way out of this mess.

“If you behave for me like a good girl, okay?”

Shivers went up your spine as you cringed at his statement.

Immediately, your mood shifts from calm to furious after hearing his disturbing bargain. Then purposely rolling your eyes for him to see. “How the hell will I behave if you’re a creepy stalker! You disgust me!”

Peter hums, displaying a look wherein he seems like he was thinking. You were not sure if it was sarcastic or not, either way it annoyed the hell out of you. “Creepy stalker sounds overstated, it was more on being curious.”

You scoff as well as exclaim, “You sent me photographs of me and Eric at his house! Fucking hell, Peter.”

“Oh yeah that part.” He slyly pouts his lips to the side as he comes to realize what he had done, “I guess it was a bit creepy–” “What do you mean a bit? That was invasion of privacy!”

Despite being trapped, both your hands balled into a fist, feeling very furious at his dense answers. “I was living my own life! I kept my relationships to myself,” you cry out.

“Yes, but you weren’t completely living your life,” he whispers while gently combing his hair through the front of your hair. “You deserve much more than someone who couldn’t proudly tell that you’re his girl. Is he even a man? Do you really enjoy that kind of life, sweetie?”

“We were happy,” you weep. The evident crack on your voice was a signal that you were about to cry though you were not sure if it was because you were held hostage or because you were worried for Eric.

No one would understand your situation with him right now. Especially Peter.

“Trust me you weren’t,” he scoffs. “You deserve so much more, and I can give you that.”

“I’d rather be alone forever than be with you, asshole!” Your voice was inconsistent, clearly affected by how fast Peter’s mood also shifts quickly.

You also figured you were not looking entirely fresh while crumbling beneath him. Drops of tears and sweat were all over your face and neck, both your eyelids felt swollen, and your nose was almost stuffed.

Peter stand from the edge of the bed and advances to his desk from the side. A harsh bang echoed throughout the room as your body twitched out of shock.

“What does that dick have that I don’t?!” He grits his teeth as the curves of his jaw intensifies. A displeased look was written all over his face.

“P-please let me go.”

“I need you to answer, sweetie. We going nowhere unless you answer!” He was never going to let you go if you were not going to cooperate.

Every step he takes closer back to the bed just increases your heart beat further. He had rolled the sleeves of his sweater up to the edge of his elbows and you felt threatened looking at how firm his arms looked.

“Peter, p-please,” you hiccup.

As Peter returns to the edge of the bed, he does not hesitate anymore to keep a distance. His hands hover to either sides over your body and sets the left side of his head on your midriff, laying while also getting a good view of your vulnerable state.

He does not even look life he was struggling to make an effort to keep you down, but you could feel how heavy he was and was barely giving you a chance to move around.

“I can give you so much more, Y/N.” The way his gaze directs at you was definitely one of the creepiest things you have experienced. He had so much emotions yet completely lacked sympathy for your state of mind.

Shutting your eyes, you only cried further. You felt a hand cup one of your cheeks as its thumb wipes away the pouring tears. Like a broken record, you only pleaded more, “Please let me go.”

“I can’t.”

“Why.” You bawled, realizing he has no plans of releasing you anytime soon despite it. “I won’t tell anyone about this, I p-promise.”

“I know that,” he says, “but you’re going to run back to Eric, probably tell him too, right?”

You did not want to answer, merely shaking your head as you resisted a cry from your lips. It was somewhat what you had planned, but now you were just scared shitless.

“You won’t tell anyone but him cause no one knows about it other than you two, right?” He corners your words.

“Eric would lose his job if someone, especially your parents find out, right?” Hell he was correct. He most likely had been stalking you for so long to find out about it.

“You love him so much, you wouldn’t want to hinde

It was terrifying that someone had been learning about you and your life for a while without your awareness.

“Please stop. What do you want... money?” you whimper.

Peter did not seem likes normal college boy; he does not think like one, too, for sure. Anyone with a right mind would not do something like what he did. No one would have the guts to do so.

“I just want you, Y/N. I want to give you what you deserve,” Peter answers as he sits up and leans his face closer to yours. His mouth leaves a small gap from your right ear as he whispers, “Let me make you feel good.”

“No–”

He cuts off your plea with a proposition, “If you let me, I might consider letting you free.”

“You want that, right? Want me to let you go...” His hand combs through the other side of your face, “just let me show you that I can do way better than him.”

Every ounce of your blood was trying not to give in. You were smart, you ought to find a way out of this. However, you realized that it will not be enough. You already struggled so much from the super glue around your wrists and you could not imagine how much more would it take now that Peter was on top of you.

Eventually you stopped struggling and let him be. There was no way out of this than to let him do what he pleases.

You feel his lips press against your ear first and then progresses over your cheek. His grip around your arms loosen after detecting that you stopped struggling beneath him. You could feel him smile on your skin, “That’s it, relax for me. Good girl.”

His hand reaches to undo your pants as his lips drifted on yours to force their way on making out with you. Another hand then presses under your jaw and throat. “P-Peter,” you choke, feeling lightheaded after being unable to breath properly though your mouth until the grip had loosen.

“Sorry, babe.”

He soon descends from your face to your neck and collar region. You were so sure he was leaving marks on you as you felt him suck and nibble against your skin. Like a controlling asshole he was, you expect to see bruises on your skin by tomorrow.

Despite having your hands fastened, he still moves your shirt upwards past your head. It halts and hands loosely around your arms as you emerge topless beneath the boy.

“Fucking beautiful,” Peter compliments your body under his breath.

Although he seemed to have time on his hands, he does not leave a second wasted. He also goes to haul your pants past your legs and ankles. The growing look of impatience on his face says it all.

Peter moves from your side and welcomes himself between your legs. He spreads them out to have enough space for his body and you could not feel more embarrassed than this.

You grit your teeth over each other as you felt him press fingers against your cunt. Instinctively, you clench around nothing as he continues to play with your entrance, making sure you get entirely soaked under his touch.

“You know you shouldn’t hold back. I know you’re loving it so far, your body says otherwise,” he teases before laying on his stomach and moving his head closer to your pussy.

Without a warning, he licks a strip of you making the back of your thighs quake lightly. Peter senses your reaction and continues to do so, using his tongue to play around and poke inside of you until you were slowly giving in without even realizing it.

Just as you thought you were getting used to his actions, he then inserts fingers inside you, feeling your warmth around it as he pushes it in and out.

“Oh,” you moan.

He continues, making sure he also does not leave your bud of nerves behind. The tip of his fingers and tongue alternate on playing against it, making you throw back your head out of pleasure.

“I bet he doesn’t please you like this,” he scoffs.

Eventually, at your vulnerable state, you could already feel yourself closing to an orgasm. Your toes curled as your temples throbbed, sealing your eyes shut as you accepted on giving in.

You bit onto your lower lip, trying to resist a moan. Somewhere inside you, you were still trying to fight back and not let Peter have the satisfaction he had been craving.

“You’re being so tight... Just let it out.” He coaxes and you hate how you did what he told you so.

The extensive grin on his face seemed priceless. He pulled back and you were aware that you seemed exhausted beneath him. You assumed he was done with whatever he wanted to do with you.

But when he started to take off his sweater and unbutton his pants, you realized it was far from over.

As he presents himself just as naked in front of you, he again welcomes himself between your legs. This time you get a better view of him and his muscles and abs. He gets a good view of your body too for sure as his hand reaches to start stroking his dick.

He places one hand on your thigh and pushes it farther to give him more room. Finally, he inserts in inside you and you automatically felt him throbbing between.

There was a growing heat between the both of you, and it only intensified as Peter started to thrust his hips forward and backwards. There was not even a rhythm from him as he moves harder after hearing you softly moan underneath.

The slapping sound echoes through the room that would eventually reek of sex and you felt ashamed that your body was enjoying all of this.

“Ah… ah… ahh… agh….”

“You’re starting to enjoy this, aren’t you?” He brags as one hand was reaching for your breasts while the other holds your thigh up. “Fucking slut.”

Your body and mind were tired and could only hold so much longer. It was not a surprise when your stomach started to churn your the muscles in your thighs were cramping up.

Peter did no help after seeing you starting to wear out. He tried leaning in to make out with you and expect to moan into his mouth. You did for a moment, a combination of both your drools were streaming down from the corner of your mouth.

“We’re making a mess, huh,” he mumbles. “But I know you’re already a dirty fucking girl.”

He proceeds to deprave you with statements, “Can’t believe you’re enjoying my cock better than that old man’s... Such a fucking whore.”

You twist your head aside, trying to hide the fact that you feel like your temperature were burning up. You were so sure he could feel the increasing warmth of your walls either way.

Your eyes were rolling back as you resist arching your back, which was not really a success as the amount of pleasure was overwhelming.

As you writhe beneath him, you felt a hand on your cheek. It pushes your head back onto looking at front and at Peter. “I want you t look at me when you’re going to cum, sweetie,” he orders and you could not do much anyways.

The second time you came was a whole other level. You never felt this with any person you slept with so far, rather not this fast and intense to say. “That’s it, fuck, you’re tighter than I could ever imagine.”

Peter continues until it was his time to cum. The bed continues to move along with his pace and your body was basically abused to his liking.

And even if you were not aware of it, the boy was practically thankful that his agency decided to agree to soundproofing his whole apartment – his motive being for personal reasons, which they did not question any time soon.

You were helpless, you knew that. All you had in mind now was rest. Your eyelids were heavy and your mind was drifting to slumber.

The last thing you remember was Peter moving over your body to come all around your chest like a painter with its paint brush creating a masterpiece from your chest to your core.

“I love you.”

a/n: ily pls leave comments <3

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6rookie-writer0110 · 3 years

Text

The stars are our safe haven

Lena Luthor x Reader

Summary - Lena and Reader for the first time in real life.

Lena is in her office and it's been a long day. She has been dealing with a lot and she is feeling stressed out. She looks at the time and it's late, Lena grabbed the Obsidian North's contact lenses and puts them on. She looks around and she is in the same location... She is at a cabin by the lake and she starts to set the chessboard.

“You are on time,” Lena said.

“It's rude to be late for our game. Should we start?” You said.

You and Lena never met in real life, you met her through Obsidian North online. You never played chess in real life because it didn't interest you. But when you met Lena that changed. She always beat you in chess and she would explain how she won.

Lena never saw your face because you have a mask on, she doesn't. Every night and on the weekends, you meet up with Lena to play chess and just talk. You never once took off the mask and she doesn't pressure you but she is curious how you look.

“You weren't online for long yesterday. Is everything okay?” You said.

Lena sighed “Too much is going on. I needed a break and I came here”

“We don't have to play chess if you don't want to. I know you would be scared to play against me” You said.

You made Lena laugh and she rolled her eyes at you.

“Y/n, you do know I beat you 59 times and you haven't won one game,” Lena said.

“That's not how I remember,” You said.

She laughed again.

“Let's start the game, y/n,” Lena said.

You only told Lena your first name. She does know that you know about her family drama, but you never once asked for a favor or blackmailed her. You and Lena feel comfortable around each other and have deep conversations with each other. Lena hasn't opened up to anyone in a long time.

You and Lena start to play chess, and she won the first game. Lena does know about your family and your life. Lena has developed feelings for you, she does wonder now and then if you would feel the same way as her. Sometimes she would doubt that you won't like her because of family and other things.

“How’s your work,” Lena said.

“They cut my hours... So I'm learning less and my rent went up” You said.

“Oh... That must be rough” Lena said.

“It’s life. It was my mom’s birthday so we bought her gifts and a cake” You said.

“Last time, I celebrated my birthday was when I six years ago when my mother passed away. The Luthors are not really into celebrating together as a family unless it's an evil plan” Lena said.

Lena won the game the second time. You and Lena play again, but this time you set the board.

“Wow, now that's rough,” You said.

“We can play one more game. So... Um dating anyone?” Lena said.

“Nope. I was interested in someone but it wouldn't have worked out. You?” You said.

You look at the board and you think about what to do.

“I am interested in someone... But I don't know” Lena said.

Lena beat you in three moves.

“How the hell did you win?” You asked.

She laughed and she starts to explain.

---

A couple of days later...

You had a rough day and you put on the contact lenses. Lena is there, she can sense something is wrong by the look of your eyes. Lena hugged you and waited for you to say something. You like Lena’s arms around you, you felt safe.

“I won't pressure you to talk about it. When you want to talk about it, I will listen” Lena said.

“Thanks. I'm not ready to talk about it but yeah, I had a rough day” You said.

She kissed your head, she isn't sure why she did it. But she thought you would get angry about it but you didn't. After the hug, you and Lena talked about something else.

“Y/n, I was thinking maybe we can meet in real life?” Lena asked.

“Are you serious?” You asked.

“Yes. But only if you want to, I don't want to force you into something that you're uncomfortable with” Lena said.

“Can I think about it?” You asked.

“Of course,” Lena said.

You nod and she gave you a small smile.

✬ ✫ ✯ ✫

You have been thinking about what Lena said about meeting in person. You start to get ready for work, put on your headphones, and left your apartment. You start to listen to a podcast on how to get better at chess. You have strong feelings for Lena, but you doubt yourself and think you're not good enough for her. You always feel comfortable around her. You are having a hard time, thinking about meeting Lena in person.

You put on the contact lenses, she smiled. You asked Lena about her day and she asked about yours.

“Lena, I think we should meet in person,” You said.

“Are you sure, y/n?” Lena asked.

“Yeah, I'm sure. We have been friends online for almost five years. Maybe... We can meet somewhere in public at a cafe shop?” You said.

Lena smiled “yes, we can meet at a cafe shop. How I will know it's you?”

“I will wear a plain blue shirt,” You said.

“Okay, we will meet at The Jolly Goat Coffee Bar, tomorrow at four?” Lena said.

“Sounds good to me, Lena,” You said.

You and Lena smiled at each other.

---

The next day...

You are at the cafe shop. You're freaking out and Lena hasn't arrived yet. You keep looking at the time on your phone over and over. A few minutes later, you felt a hand on your shoulder and you looked up.

“Y/n?” Lena asked.

“Hey L-Lena,” You said.

She sits across from you. She is feeling nervous and she bites her bottom lip.

“Sorry, I'm late the meeting went longer than expected,” Lena said.

“It's okay. I'm feeling really nervous right now” You said.

“Me too. But I'm happy that you wanted to meet and I got to see how you look” Lena said.

“I knew eventually the mystery wasn't going to last long,” You said nervously.

She nods.

“Should we order? My treat” Lena said.

“Yeah, let's order,” You said.

You and Lena are starting to feel less nervous. You love her green eyes and she can't stop smiling at you. You and Lena stayed at the cafe shop for a while, then left and walked around the park for a little bit.

✬ ✫ ✯ ✫

Since that day, you and Lena did meet up in person now and then. But other days, you meet her online. You and Lena still play chess together. Tonight changed everything

“Wow, y/n I can't believe you finally won a game,” Lena said.

You have a big smile on your face.

“To be honest, I have been reading books about chess, listening to podcasts about chess and I wanted to impress you,” You said.

“You wanted to impress me by getting better at chess? That is cute. Well, I'm glad I lost to you” Lena said.

“We will keep playing chess?” You asked.

“We would still keep playing, y/n,” Lena said.

You smiled but the next game you lost again. But you are still feeling hyped about the game you won.

----

Today is Lena’s birthday and you wanted to do something special for her. For her, it's just another normal day and she only told you when is her birthday. You bought a small cake, a cute gift and you surprise Lena at her loft.

You have been to her loft before, she gave you the code to the keypad. She didn't know that you were coming over but she is happy to see you. You follow Lena to the kitchen, she is drinking wine and working on her laptop.

“Close your eyes, Lena,” You said.

“Okay,” Lena said.

Lena closed her eyes. You take out the cake, place the candles then light the candles with a lighter.

“Okay, Lena open your eyes,” You said.

Lena is surprised by what you just did for her.

“Oh y/n, you shouldn't have,” Lena said.

“Lena happy birthday. I wanted to surprise you, hope you like it” You said.

“I love it. Nobody has ever done this for me” Lena said.

Lena hugged you tight and she can't stop smiling. She stares into your eyes and you feel her lips on yours. You kiss her back, she pulls away and she apologized.

“Y/n, I am so sorry I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Y/n, I like you as more than a friend... I have liked you for a while and if you don't feel the same, I hope we can be friends I don't want you out of my life” Lena said.

You are speechless about what she said. You try to say something but you just stutter.

“Lena... Lena, I do feel the same way I like you so much. But I feel I'm not good enough for you. I have a dead-end job, I can't take you to a expensive restaurant and I still live with my family... I can't afford to live on my own and I have two jobs” You said.

She gently grabs your hand.

“Y/n, I like you for who you are. What you did right now, I love it that you surprised me with a cake for my birthday. It doesn't bother me that you live with your family” Lena said.

You gave her a small smile.

“You should blow out the candles before the wax gets on the cake,” You said.

Lena kissed your cheek and she blows out the candles. You and Lena sit on the couch and eat cake together.

“Do you want to make it official?” Lena asked.

“Yes, I want to make it official. Like the cake?” You said.

She nods “its really good cake. Thank you, y/n”

You stay the night, later you and Lena cuddle in bed and watch Disney movies. During the movie, you and Lena start to make out but it doesn't go further. You feel her hand under your shirt on your lower back, she smiled and she keeps kissing you.

#lena luthor x reader #supergirl imagine #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor imagines #gender neutral fanfic

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ncssian · 3 years

Text

A Favor: Part Twenty-Four

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: a short update resolving where we left off last week, to be soon followed by another gwynriel bonus scene. after that i am never going off the tracks of my fic outline ever again.

***

Nesta is going to commit murder. She really is.

Gwyn is the first to hop out of bed, rapidly tugging her T-shirt down to cover her bare girl parts. “I can explain—” she starts.

“You.” Nesta points at Azriel, who’s still sitting shirtless and confused. “You. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Be more specific.” Azriel slides off the bed and picks up a pair of panties from the ground, trying to hand them to Gwyn. Gwyn smacks his hand away, but the sight enrages Nesta all the same.

She nods to herself, her thoughts whirling. “Actually, I’m really glad you’re here,” she says. “I was considering sparing you, but now my mind is made up.” She rushes at Azriel without warning.

“Whoa, whoa, wait!” Gwyn jumps in front of a wide-eyed Azriel, arms outstretched to fend Nesta off.

Nesta reaches past Gwyn’s shoulder and jumps, trying to grab Azriel, hit him, anything. “My sister and my best friend?” she seethes, batting at him. “My sister and my best friend?”

“The hell are you going on about?” Azriel snaps over Gwyn’s head.

“You really have no shame, do you?” Nesta succeeds in pushing Gwyn out of her way, and comes up chest to chest with Azriel, all fiery glares. “You think you can get away with whatever you want because you’re the cool uncaring one, and you probably can, but not with me. We’re the same person, jackass.”

Before Azriel can respond, slim arms grab Nesta around the waist and start dragging her backwards into the hallway. Gwyn lets go of Nesta and slams the door shut after them, leaving Azriel inside the room alone.

“This is way too much for me to be doing without underwear!” Gwyn yells at her. “Will you please explain yourself?”

“What do I have to explain? He should be explaining himself!” Nesta flings her arm toward the bedroom. It’s not like Azriel is any random hookup of Elain’s. He’s also Nesta’s friend, and Nesta expected better from him.

Gwyn drops her head and rubs her freckled temples in exhaustion. “It’s not like I wasn’t there, too. Are you even going to ask why we were together? Do you have any questions at all, or are you just going to break into my home and assume he took advantage of me?”

Nesta shuts her mouth. She didn’t ask any questions, did she? She hasn’t even considered Gwyn’s part in this.

She clears her throat, her voice strained from shouting. “I thought you were at work.”

“Clearly I’m not.” Gwyn crosses her arms, then immediately drops them to readjust her short T-shirt.

Nesta bites. “Why? How? Since when did you guys even talk to each other?” Even after catching Azriel flirting on their ski trip, Nesta couldn’t have predicted that he and Gwyn would end up here. It’s far too much of a leap.

“It’s really not what you think it is.” Gwyn twists a piece of ruddy hair between her fingers. “He’s just… helping me get back into the dating pool. We made an agreement, and he’s doing me a huge favor.”

Nesta’s jaw drops. “By eating you out?”

Gwyn’s teal eyes meet hers. “I can’t ever have a chance with Max if I freak out when he eventually tries to take my clothes off. Especially when I want him to take my clothes off. So I decided after the ski lodge that I needed to get comfortable with sex again, and I… recruited Az to help.” She shrugs like it’s nothing.

Nesta is left with more questions than before. “So,” she holds up a hand, “the thought of doing it with Azriel doesn’t scare you? Not even a little?”

Gwyn scoffs. “If I didn’t know him from elementary school, then it probably would. Unfortunately, I’ve firsthand seen the guy shove crayons up his nose.” She casts a glance toward the bedroom door and lowers her voice. “And I honestly don’t have any proof that he doesn’t still do it.”

That’s—unfortunately understandable. It also explains why Azriel has been comfortable with Gwyn from the start, though Nesta doesn’t know why Gwyn didn’t tell anyone about their shared history.

“Look, Nesta, I know he’s your roommate,” Gwyn continues, “but I think you overreacted a little back there.”

Right. Does Gwyn even know about Azriel and Elain? “It wasn’t because of you,” Nesta tries to explain. “It was because—”

Before she can finish, the door clicks open and Azriel comes out, thankfully clothed in his shirt and gym shorts. He slides his hands into his pockets and says, “I’m joining before any more unflattering things can be said about me.”

Nesta’s lip curls into a sneer at the sight of him. “I wouldn’t let you run away from me anyway.” She crosses her arms and faces him down. “You agreed to teach Gwyn how to get comfortable with sex?”

The hallway is crammed now with Azriel’s height taking up most of the space, but he doesn’t seem to care as he leans against the wall and answers, “Hell yeah.”

Nesta is more than suspicious and untrusting right now, but she pauses to wonder: does Azriel know why Gwyn has such trouble with intimacy in the first place?

It’s none of her business, she decides. Except now she’s even more wary. “What do you get out of this little deal, huh? Or do you just volunteer to have sex with my friends out of the goodness of your heart?”

“I’m getting guitar lessons out of it,” he says without hesitating. “But it’s also the goodness of my heart.” He smirks.

Gwyn throws a surprised look in his direction. Nesta is more than ready to smack the smirk off his face with her bare hand, but she settles for her words instead. “What would Elain say if she knew, Azriel?”

Azriel’s face goes cold. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“I wish she didn’t,” Nesta says. “Explain why I have to comfort her when she wonders why you abandoned her without even a text message while you get to play around with my friends without a care in the world?”

Azriel might as well be made of stone. “You talked to her?”

“You’re a coward,” she hisses. “Do what you want, but know that you’re a coward until you explain yourself to her.” Nesta lets out a ragged breath and drags her stare to Gwyn.

Gwyn shakes her head quickly and raises her hands in defense. “I’m just trying to get laid. Don’t bring me into this.”

Nesta pats her arm. “Of course not, babe.” The last thing she wants is Gwyn involved with either of her sisters—which is why it would be preferable if Gwyn avoided Azriel altogether.

Gwyn lets out a big “Phew,” and cuts an unreadable look toward Azriel. He avoids her gaze.

“Let me get you a drink,” Gwyn says quickly to Nesta, starting to steer her toward the kitchen. Nesta shakes her off and steps away. “It’s okay; I’ll leave now. Also, I can see your—” She waves at Gwyn’s lower half.

Gwyn chuckles awkwardly and tugs her shirt back down, her cheeks flaring red. “I’ll go get your sweater.” She rushes back inside her room, leaving Nesta and Azriel alone in the hall.

Azriel says nothing, but Nesta stares him down until Gwyn returns wearing a pair of shorts and carrying Nesta’s sweater. “Here, I already washed it for you.”

Nesta breaks her gaze with Azriel to take her sweater. “Sorry for breaking into your room,” she tells Gwyn. “I didn’t mean to ruin your…” She nearly gags trying to finish her sentence, so she doesn’t bother. Instead, she turns back to Azriel. “I’m excited to see how those guitar lessons pay off. You’ll give us all a performance when this is over, hm?”

He doesn’t bother responding, and Nesta takes her leave.

***

“I still can’t believe him,” Nesta is grumbling while she and Cassian get ready for bed. “How long is he going to stay in the reading nook like that? I can’t get to my books and he knows it.”

“He’s punishing himself since you won’t,” Cassian says as he towels off his damp hair. Water droplets speckle his bare chest. “He won’t go back to his room as long as he feels guilty about Elain.”

Once Nesta decided that getting vengeance for Elain’s broken heart would do more harm to the cabin ecosystem than good, she chose to contain her anger at Azriel by pretending that he simply didn’t exist. As for Azriel… Azriel has been sleeping on the loveseat in the upstairs reading nook for the past five days. The two of them haven’t spoken since Nesta caught him in Gwyn’s bedroom.

Cassian himself has many thoughts about the choices Azriel has been making lately, and a part of him knows it would be easier for everybody if he just forced Az’s sorry ass back to Velaris. But Nesta is involved in this, too, and she has yet to give the order to kick Azriel out. Rather, she seems content to either ignore him or to burn judgmental stares into him.

Out of love for Azriel, Cassian can’t help but be relieved.

Nesta scoffs in response to Cassian, slathering lotion onto her legs. “Bullshit. He’s punishing me by taking away my reading nook, the bastard.” Done with her legs, she searches around the bed for her glasses, squinting because she can’t see a thing.

Withholding his amusement, Cassian goes over to her and plucks her glasses from the top of her head, sliding them onto her face. She blinks and gives a rare smile up at him when she realizes she can see again, then soon frowns as she casts her gaze about the room. “Where’s my book? Did I leave it at home again?”

Cassian knows Nesta calls the apartment home out of old habit, but it still makes jealousy sting in his chest. “I’ll get you another one,” he offers. “What do you want?”

She gives him the title for something that has to do with erotic Vikings that he immediately recognizes. It’s on the top shelf in the reading nook. He promises to return with the book.

The rest of the cabin is dark by now, but Az is still wide awake and staring up at the wooden beams that criss-cross the ceiling when Cassian sneaks into the nook. Moonlight coming in through the glass door leading to the balcony illuminates both of them.

Cassian doesn’t know whether to feel exhausted or irritated, so he passes by his brother without a word to look for the book.

He already confronted Azriel earlier about what the hell was wrong with him, and got nothing out of the man. Not even an apology. At which point Cassian wanted to beat some sense into him the way they used to during their school days, but restrained himself through some godly miracle.

He’s trying—really trying—not to shove his nose into Azriel’s decisions like that. If he does, he’ll end up being just as bad as Rhys.

Finding the worn paperback boasting a shirtless Nordic god on the cover, Cassian turns to leave.

“You know Nesta can get her books herself, right?” Az’s voice sounds velvety in the darkness.

Cassian bristles. “Don’t start.”

“You mad at me too?”

Yes, Cassian is mad. Mad that he seems to be the only brother with a working brain anymore. “When do you plan on getting your shit together?” he says.

“How?” Az replies. “By apologizing to Elain or by leaving Nesta’s friend alone?”

Cassian still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that the Gwyn who used to shy away from talking to him ran straight into Azriel’s arms for sex advice. On one hand, good for her. On the other, Cassian wishes she had less messy taste. “Both,” he grits, getting frustrated.

Az shrugs, still staring up at the ceiling. “I’m keeping my promise to Gwyn. No matter what.” He sounds nonchalant, but Cassian knows he’s serious.

His grip on the paperback tightens, because that’s still not a real answer to his question. “I warned you when you moved in that you were walking a thin line, Az. I’ve been nice for the past week, but at some point you’re gonna have to tell me why I shouldn’t kick you out right now and save myself and Nesta the headache.”

Azriel finally meets Cassian’s eyes, and his gaze is unreadable. “Do it, if that’s what you want. I don’t care.”

Cassian’s face darkens with rage. “Just watch me, then.” He leaves before he can throw the book at Azriel’s head.

Back at their bedroom, Nesta takes one look at him and asks, “What happened?”

He tosses the book onto the bed and doesn’t come any closer. “I told Azriel I’d kick him out.”

Her brow furrows in concern. “Will you go through with it?”

No. And Az knows it too, the asshole.

Cassian takes in a shallow breath. “I just want to be a good brother.” It’s why he can’t stop giving Az chances, even when it inconveniences the woman he loves. “I want to be a good brother, a good partner, a good friend. I want to be all those things at once.”

Nesta’s lip quirks up. “You’re definitely better at all that than I am.” She rests her chin on one bent knee and frowns. “What else do you want to be?”

“That’s it.” His shoulders slump. “Nothing else.”

Nesta gives an amused huff. “All those things are for other people, though. Forget me and Azriel; what do you want to be for yourself, Cassian?”

What do you want? Cassian remembers her asking him a long time ago.

That… he doesn’t have an answer for. He rubs the back of his neck and stares at the ground. “I dunno,” he says, trying to sound flippant.

Looking up with a smile, he goes over to Nesta’s side of the bed and crouches at her side. “Who has time to think about all of that, anyway? I’m already happy doing exactly what I do.”

Still frowning, Nesta shifts on the bed so she can better face Cassian on the ground. “Do you really not know?” she says quietly.

Letting his smile drop, Cassian presses his lips into a wavery line.

She takes his face in her cold, thin hands, and he lowers his head onto her lap. A pounding has started up behind his eyes.

“It’s okay if you don’t know,” she says when he doesn’t speak. Her hand travels to the spot between his shoulder blades, and she pats his back in consolation. “You’ll find out. I’ll still be here when you do.”

He doesn’t lift his head, because if he does he might cry, so she keeps patting his back for a long while.

***

The next night Cassian finds himself in the kitchen, as he often does lately. The gnocchi for dinner is missing something, but he can’t tell what it is.

Swiping some pomodoro sauce from his wooden spoon with a finger, he goes over to the kitchen island and holds it out to Nesta. She licks it off his finger and says, “More cream,” before going back to her rant. “But really, does Eris want me to hurt him? Because if he keeps acting like this I’m going to physically hurt him.”

“You should do it if it makes you happy, babe,” Cassian says absentmindedly, more focused on checking the potatoes au gratin in the oven than on their conversation.

Two heavy, heart-attack worthy potato dishes on the same night, all because Nesta was in the mood for it. It sickens Cassian to think of the unhealthiness of it all, but these days it’s like he can’t stop himself from making food. It doesn’t matter whether the meal is fatty or not, as long as it tastes good enough for date nights.

By the time dinner is served and Cassian is settled in next to Nesta at the island, the topic of conversation has moved far away from Eris and law school.

“I used to be a fitness freak,” Cassian says mournfully as Nesta piles more and more cheese-covered potatoes onto his plate.

“Your abs look the same as the day I met you. You’ll be fine.”

Cassian didn’t even think about his abs. He presses a hand to his torso in worry. How long until those are gone, too?

“Eat.” Nesta shoves a fork into his hand and starts to dig into her own plate.

Cassian takes it reluctantly. “You know, this is bad for you too.” He realizes suddenly, “Have I been poisoning your health this whole time?” That’s even worse than the thought of losing his abs.

Nesta’s fork stops halfway to her mouth. The look on her face is disgusted enough to curdle milk, as if Cassian might change his mind and try to take her dinner away. She visibly swallows her feelings back and scoots closer to Cassian, spearing some of his gnocchi on her fork.

“Come on, we’ll clog our arteries together.” She pats his back the way she always does. “We’re here for a delicious time, not a long time.”

Cassian can hardly say no when he’s getting food shoved into his mouth without warning.

But despite his defeat with dinner, he’s joined by a sleepy and irritable Nesta the next morning in the home gym. She refuses to speak a word to him at such an early hour, but her compromise is loud and clear when she begins stretching and warming up. She’ll be here while he figures out whatever it is he wants to be for himself.

***

a/n: what do y’all think. is cassian overreacting, is nesta overstepping, or are they right and azriel is a menace who needs to be stopped (asking bc sometimes i cant tell when my mcs are being annoying)

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic #nessian au

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