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writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 10 months

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Character: Indiana Jones

Warnings/Important info: Fem reader, implied English or at least has been to Oxford University. Angsty, miscommunication.

Notes: I watched Indiana Jones the other day and obviously my first crush never leaves because young Harrison Ford as an archaeologist adventurer is just *chefs kisses*

It's bizarre really, potentially concerning, worrying to a degree, that after 5 years you know the back of his head from a glance. Suffice to say you try not to draw attention to yourself when you recognise who stands mere meters away from you talking to two of his students about antiquarianism.

Maybe you should have expected it, after all Henry Jones seemed to have a way of haunting you. Maybe you should have been prepared to see him, despite assuming that the United States was so vast that your move from the University of Oxford to Marshall College as a newly qualified Doctor of History would certainly not guarantee seeing him. Perhaps, it was the Moirai, the fates, trying to test your resolve or simply coincidence.

But, after five years without a single letter, a single telephone call or telegram, you certainly weren't keen to stick around and have a conversation with the man. Besides, you had lectures to teach, students to help, papers to grade (okay, maybe not the last one considering it was in fact the very first day of the academic year).

It is with a sharp back peddle that has you careering into a pair of students behind you with a clipped apology that you make your daring escape and it is a surprised call of your given name that has you freezing, turning about face and responding with a strangled "It's actually Dr. Y/L/N now."

"What? I'm not allowed to call you by your name anymore? Guess you've already recinded the right to call you Honey Bee too." There are students stopping to watch, what feels like the entire student body eager to watch the new History professor and the most loved Archaeology professor at each other's throats. A mystery arising from their familiarity and a curiosity at what history lay between the two. You certainly weren't eager to put on a show.

With a flick of the wrist you smooth down your skirt, turning on your heels and walk away calling out to him, "It was a pleasure to see you again, Dr Jones." It leaves Indiana gaping in the centre of the quad, watching the sway of your hips and the click of your shoes on the pavement as you leave him behind.

You choose to ignore the bubble of anxiety it puts in the pit of your stomach all day. Your lectures help to distract you at least somewhat from the reality that your former...you're not even sure what to call him...something, is present and working at the same university as you and you briefly wonder if it isn't too late to go back to your job at Oxford. You're sure Professor Haylett would let you come back, you might need to grovel a bit but...perhaps that was preferable to the potential mess that was being in close proximity to Henry again.

The last time you'd see each other, he'd been a 27 year old Archaeology professor. Young, dashing, charming, with every student at the University of London eager to please him and hoping the American would give them extra attention. You had been a 23 year old History PhD student, one of the few women allowed to do so, after much hard graft and determination. You had refused to let anything or anyone distract you from your studies, from your goal...and then you'd been told that he could help you with your PhD, that he had some specific knowledge on the Battle of Syracuse that you could use and...you'd found yourself suitably distracted. You would be being bitter and unfair if you didn't admit that in the year you'd known him he'd helped you with your thesis immensely...but he'd also put your reptuation at risk, broken your heart and made promises that he never would fulfil. Your mother was right...romance was certainly a tricky business.

You're so frazzled at the end of the day that you don't even recognise that your office has the lights on, if you had, you would have stopped before entering, instead you bulldozer your way in and stumble at the sight of him sat in a chair waiting paitently as if he wasn't phased one bit by your reappearance in his life.

"So, Honey Bee, you gonna tell me why I get such a frosty reception?"

"Yo-The absolute...I cannot...ugh!" You find yourself unable to stutter out a complete sentence as you slam the door shut, it reverberating on its hinges. "You have some nerve, Henry Jones! As if you don't bloody know!" You storm around him, putting the hard wood desk between the two of you and shuffling papers to keep from looking at him knowing he'd melt your anger in a second just with a smile.

He always had the most ridiculous ability to placate you and you wanted to feel angry today, not soothed like a skittish horse or malcontent cat.

"Sweetheart, if I knew I wouldn't have asked!" It's the silky smoothness giving away to frustration that causes you to look up, your bottom lip shuddering under the weight of the sadness that sits in your chest, old feelings that you thought you'd processed and put to bed coming to the surface.

"You promised..." He's silent, confusion deepening as you take a deep breath and begin to pace back and forth behind your desk, agitation growing with each movement. "You promised to write me, to call or send a telegram and you never did. I...I waited to hear from you and I heard nothing. So I am dreadfully sorry, Henry, if I do not feel particularly like pleasentries or intimiate nicknames in front of an entire cohort of students! I have had to earn my place and I am still fighting for respect and no man, one who doesn't even honor his promises, is going to ruin this for me!"

You are breathing heavily, body warm, shoulders rising and falling with every agitated movement of your lungs as he looks down at his lap. Silence falls between you for so long that you turn to look out the window of your office, at the street lamps with their warm glow, the last few students wandering across campus as evening sets in.

"I did...I wrote you." His voice is low, quiet, the sort of quiet that Henry Jones never was, so quiet in fact that you turn to check he actually spoke.

"I wrote every day for three months...half of it was stupid, five lines about my day or a single sentence to say hello. I wrote for three months, sweetheart."

"Three months?"

"Three."

"But, I never...how...if you wrote for three months then how on earth did I not receive a single one!" You're unsure if you believe him, at the same time you never knew Henry to be a liar and it...it boggles your mind. There's an impending sense of your world teetering on it's axis, emotional whiplash as you feel a soaring sense of hope, yet a feeling of disbelief, fear, all rolled into one.

"I don't know, honey, but I wrote for three months to 21 Hanover Street and you never wrote me back so I assumed...I assumed you'd moved on, found yourself a nice, sensible husband and gotten married!" There's an anger that you'd never noticed til now, a sense that he'd been hurt to, that he'd felt like you'd abandoned him. So far removed from the debonair, rakish persona he so often displayed.

"21 Hanover Street? You wrote to 21 Hanover Street?"

"Yes, goddamn it!"

"Henry...I lived at 12 Hanover Street."

"What?"

"I lived at number 12, one two, not two one. 12!" It is so absolutely absurd that you can't help but start laugh rather hysterically. That you felt abanonded all these years, angry, resentful, heartbroken and he'd simply gotten the wrong house number, a stupid, ridiculous mistake that had broken your heart into pieces, only to reforge it again.

"You're telling me that for three months I was writing to the wrong address...?" Henry is out of his chair, rounding the table and closing the distance between you so fast that it makes your head spin...or perhaps that is the effect of the emotional journey you're currently experiencing.

"I'm afraid so..."

"Goddamn it...well, shit, honey..." There's a pregnant pause as your eyes scan his profile, the frustrated set of his brow, the clench of his jaw, the familiar bend of his nose. He's not changed, not really. He's older, more lines around his eyes than last you remember, and a few more grey hairs, but then you're older too. Your first grey hairs finally settling in, the soft baby fat of your face having melted away somewhat over the years. But, he's still Henry and you're still the busy Honey Bee he used to chase around the library to the chagrin of the librarian. Things haven't really changed, you realise. With the removal of the one point of hurt between you, you can acknowledge that you still love him without the weight of anger or heartbreak pushing it down.

"Henry?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Kiss me." It makes you laugh against his mouth how quickly he follows your request, the scrape of his stubble against your skin an old, familiar sensation that you'd all but forgot. It was like coming home, so familiar that it sent a sharp stabbing sense of yearning into your chest even as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you to him.

The woodsy smell of his cologne surrounds you, the familiar tweed of his suit jacket scratches your arms, the soft strands of his hair through your fingers, the press of his nose against your cheek. It's like there hasn't been five years since you last kissed, like you hadn't been so angry with him up until five minutes ago that it hurt.

God, and to think, you'd nearly gone your entire life thinking he'd never cared. All because he'd mixed up two simple numbers.

#indiana jones x reader #indiana jones #indiana jones/reader #drabble #reader insert #readerinsert

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harrisonbrainrot · 8 months

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Indiana Jones NSFW Alphabet

18+ MDI

Teehee, content for my POOKIE. God, I love him, I'm feral, a horny monster, I have thots.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Indy is alright at aftercare, but it really depends on the setting you've been in. A slow, romantic night home from a life threatening excursion for an ancient relic? He's taking care of you, treasuring you. He wants to make sure he takes his time with you, so you know how important you are to him. If it's a quickie in the heat of the moment because you might never get another chance to ever fuck again? Forget it, you're getting a soft kiss on the forehead, he's pulling your pants back up for you, and you're back to running for your life. Mess and all, you get enough attention to know he loves you but he's not stopping long enough to be all lovey dovey.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I genuinely think his favorite is his brain, he thinks he's so smart, and it makes him all smug and arrogant half the time. Which isn't untrue, he's very smart, but God does it make him insufferable sometimes.

That being said, he loves curves, feeling your waist tuck in and holding your hips, feeling your ass. It's hard to pick a singular feature, but he appreciates your figure.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves to hit it from the back and cum all over your ass. He loves seeing it run down off your cheeks and down the back of your thighs. It makes him feral.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He told you the door to his classroom was locked, he really thought it was locked, and in the end it wasn't. It's a simple dirty secret, it added to the moment after. He had you bent over his desk, your backs to the door, and anyone could've walked in. He'd never tell you, he hates being wrong, but the thrill of being caught added to his experience.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Good lord, he's so sickeningly skilled, it's just unfair. He's so well versed, it's almost embarrassing because he's so much more experienced than you. He knows exactly what to do to leave you a crumbling, drooling mess and absolutely relishes in this fact.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl, or missionary, but your legs are on his shoulders and he's folding you in half. He loves cowgirl when he's sore and battered from an adventure and he wants to be taken care of. He wants you to set the pace, he wants to hold your hips. He'll sit up and nuzzle your tits, sighing against them. His scruff drives you crazy and he loves how it combined with his warm breath makes you clench around him. If he's feeling himself and he's really wanting a good time, he's nearly pinning your thighs to your chest, just absolutely wrecking your pussy. The man bruises your cervix almost everytime in the most delicious, mind blowing way. You'll feel him for days after and it makes you just want it all over again.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He can be a total goober. If he's had a few drinks and you're home and he gets frisky, he's using bad lines to get you in bed and he's giggling and flushed. He's happy, he's safe, he's in love. So rarely does he feel this comfortable and content in his life, he can't help but feel giddy.

That being said, he's usually very down to business with sex. He wants to make love or fuck and he wants to do it right. Which requires his full attention if you both want to get off.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Trimmed enough to be polite. Sometimes a bit too hairy when he gets back from being gone, but will return to his grooming habits promptly if you prefer it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Wildly intimate. I'm talking eye contact, soft praises, slow and deep thrusts. He wants to feel and chart everything to memory. How tight you are, how you flutter around him when he places open mouth kisses just under your ear. He loves it all. He wants you to feel absolutely loved. He might be a smart ass but that doesn't mean he isn't one to slack in the romance department.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

If he's desperate and you're not around, other than that he doesn't really ever jerk it. He's usually always with you and you two are always down to be horny monsters wherever you can be.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Call him sir or professor and see how fast he's making you moan in the nearest dark closet at the college.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In no particular order; outside in some jungle with you pressed against a tree, his office at the college with your legs spread on the desk, an old temple, palace, ancient ruins.. he's the first person there in hundreds, maybe thousands of years, and he's probably the first to cum there.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Flirty banter, subtle touches, neck kisses. Bite his ear. He's a sensitive man, just breathe a certain way and he wants you mewling under him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He's not super into anything extremely taboo or rough, he likes rough sex but he's not into inflicting pain or anything.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers to receive, loves to cum down your throat, holding your head steady and close while you gag around him. Is extremely skilled at giving though and will never, ever hesitate to go down on you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

The man is fast and rough and hard, he knocks the air out of you. But that's not to say it isn't sensual. He's very strong, very skilled, he's not clumsy. He's not sloppy, unless he's drunk and you're both in a fever trying to get each other naked. He'll bend you over the nearest surface, rutting into you until sweat drips down him. His grip on your hips is harsh, but his thumb traces soft circles against your skin. He's relentless but he leans over you, kissing your neck, whispering soft praises against your skin.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He's a quickie master. Fucks in-between classes, lectures, and running for your lives. There's really never a time he'd say no to you. He'll pin your back against the wall, holding your thighs tight around his waist while he fucks you desperately. Your mouth silenced by his, as you moan into the kiss. "Sweetheart, your pretty little noises are gunna get us caught." He'd whisper into your skin, punctuating each word with a hard thrust, just to make you suffer and try to keep quiet.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Let's be real, it's Indy. He's always taking risks. Quick fucks after surviving some traps in a tomb to celebratory sex, some idol found and he wants his other reward, you. And that's just on his adventures. He'd fuck you in cars, in his office, in his classroom, the library? Pinned up against the bookshelves, trying to be slow and gentle but it drives you both crazy, anything other than that and you'd get caught. Can't have that.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Safely say two rounds, maybe three if you're lucky. But he lasts a while, almost too long, he's a master at edging, both himself and you. He won't come unless it's the perfect moment and he won't come first.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Probably not tbh.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's 100% the biggest tease on the face of the planet. Little touches he knows drive you crazy while you're in public. Fuck, he'll finger you while you're at the bar ordering drinks in some foreign country where no one knows you, and once you're completely hot and bothered and basically dripping wet for him, he'll ignore you until his drink is finished. Just soft glances out of the corner of his eye while you wiggle and squirm and beg for even a modicum of his attention.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Oh, he's fucking PRIMAL. When he can be vocal, he's swearing, grunting through gritted teeth, making these whiny little moans when you're on top. A bit of a shout with his head thrown back as he cums when he's fucking you. He's a vocal man.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Kisses like a man starved. Open mouth kisses everywhere, his hands gripping you close. He kisses like every one is his last with you, because to be fair, it very well could be. His tongue against yours, against your throat, teeth against your soft skin. Forget it. He can ruin you with his kisses alone.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

8", cut, girthy enough to make you stretch delightfully, thick vein on the top that you love to trace to tease him, which gets him all huffy and puffy.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Stupid high. He wants to fuck to wake up and he wants to fuck to go to bed and maybe have a quickie for brunch.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depending on the setting and time, he could be chipper after. If it's a desperate "I almost lost you, this, us" type fuck, he's almost asleep before he pulls out. He's dozing while still inside of you, all snuggled into your neck, his arms wrapped around you. (He loves that the most, he won't say that but he doesn't have to, you know your Indy)

#indiana jones imagines #indiana jones #indiana jones x reader #indiana jones/reader #indiana jones imagine #indiana jones smut #pookie posting

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callie-the-creator · 10 months

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nsfw alphabet with…

cw. mdni.

a - aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

like any man after sex, he’s going to become incredibly tired and is bound to fall asleep a few minutes after you two are done. he needs it, especially after the hell he goes through whenever he goes on his archeological adventures. but in the small window of time before he goes to bed, he spends that time pampering you with love. he’ll shower your neck, shoulders, and chest in kisses while he has his strong arms wrapped around your body.

b - body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

it’s no secret that indy is a bit of a womanizer and in his years of experience, he has grown incredibly confident in his own skin. with that being said, i think to say that his favorite attribute of his has to be either his hair or…y’know…the schlong.

yours though? i think it’s safe to say that he’s a sucker for your beautiful eyes and thighs…hey, that rhymed!

c - cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

indiana would 100% respect your boundaries. you don’t want him to cum inside? that’s perfectly fine— is your chest a suitable substitute?

d - dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

n/a. sorry! i can’t really think of anything for him. i feel like he’d be an open book to you when it comes to all things sexual and wouldn’t want to hide anything from you.

e - experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

of course! indiana has lots of experience, so there is no need to worry when he’s taking care of you.

f - favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary or doggy. i will not elaborate further.

g - goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

if he hasn’t been able to see or touch you in weeks or months because he’s out somewhere in the world on another one his adventures, by the time he gets back home he is not a force to be reckoned with. he would be deadly serious and a touch from you would calm him down in a heartbeat. of course, he has a goofy side to him. he is not afraid to be a bit corny.

h - hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

realistically, i think he’d try to keep it trimmed. he has a well amount of body hair, but nothing too overwhelming. if you don’t believe me, just look at his beautiful chest hair. awooga!

i - intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

it truly depends on his mood. indiana could praise and cherish you as if you were some sort of ancient deity one night and treat you the complete opposite the next.

j - jack off (masturbation headcanon)

yes, he does jerk off, not a lot, just when you’re not around to help. he mainly does it on his expeditions since you’re safe at home and he can rest easy knowing that you’re not about to get yourself hurt trying to retrieve whatever artifact he’s searching for. but the truth is that his hand pales in comparison to you…

k - kink (one or more of their kinks)

something tells me he has a ‘daddy’ kink. he’s fond of any name that gives him a sense of power and he also loves being called other things whether that is ‘sir’, ‘doctor’, or even ‘professor’.

l - location (favorite places to do the do)

strictly the bedroom, but if you’re nice and persuade him long enough, then maybe he’ll have some fun with you in his office.

m - motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

nothing folds his man quicker than seeing you in a skirt or even a nice dress. though…he will admit that he just loves seeing you get all coy and shy around him. you not to mention the noises you make when he fucks you get him even more hard than he already is, especially little high pitched squeaks you struggle to hold in but they escape past your lips nonetheless.

n - no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

no blindfolds, handcuffs, fearplay, or anything like that. indiana has been captured times countless times and evaded many foes. going into the things listed before would throw this man for a major loop.

o - oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

indiana finds oral a little weird at first, but you were able to change his mind real quick. he usually prefers to receive but always makes sure you’re satisfied, whether you cum on his tongue, his fingers, or his cock. but he’ll have you have free range when you’re going down on him, but when it’s his turn? he’ll make sure to be gentle with you…unless you prefer him to be a bit rough with you. he is at your very command.

p - praise (are they complementary toward their partner?)

oh, absolutely! you already know this man is going to call you every pet name in the book when you two are making love. honey, sweetheart, you name it.

q - quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

i am a firm believer that indiana would take his time with you. so, no funny business! while he doesn’t necessarily support the idea, he definitely won’t reject the idea if you were to offer.

r - risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

no. nope. absolutely not. he’s a professor, for goodness sake! he has a reputation to uphold. of course, if you were abroad on a vacation, trip, or adventure…then that’s another story entirely.

s - stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

in a row? indiana usually go one or two before he passes out, but he makes it for in stamina. he’ll probably fuck you until the break of dawn if you were to give him the proper chance.

t - toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

n/a. i am not knowledgeable in sex toys from this time, so i don’t think i can really answer this part. sorry!

u - unfair (do they like to tease their partner?)

hohoho, you’re in a wild ride. indiana can be a huge tease when he wants to be, he enjoys how dependent you are on him for pleasure and sometimes he’ll leave you on the edge just to hear you whine and beg for him. he’s a master at knowing when you’re just about to finish and he’ll pull back while you shake, so close it hurts.

v - volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

i don’t think he’s all that loud. in fact, i think mainly narrows down to grunts and lots of praises (bonus points if his voice cracks or is raspy in the moment).

w - wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

n/a. i got nothing…

x - x-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture, or words)

in terms of length, i would say that indiana is slightly above average.

y - yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

about average, but with all those expeditions away from you? it might as well have increased his sex drive because he can’t stop thinking about you. he needs to focus! those artifacts aren’t going to find themselves, after all.

z - zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

as i said before, it doesn’t take long…i’ll give it abouuuut…5 minutes tops.

#indiana jones #henry jones jr #harrison ford #indiana jones x reader #indiana jones imagine #indiana jones smut #indiana jones x you #smut #indiana jones fic #indiana jones/reader #raiders of the lost ark #the temple of doom #the last crusade #the crystal skull #the dial of destiny #classic

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mr-inkslinger · 1 month

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Indiana Jones.

Indiana "Always Right." Jones.

Indiana "Uh-huh, tell me all about it." (when you pound on his chest while he fucks you in the mattress) Jones.

Indiana "Comin' already, doll?" Jones.

Indiana "Give it to me baby, I'll take it if you don't." Jones.

DOCTOR HENRY WALTON "WATCH YOUR MOUTH." JONES JUNIOR !!!

#indiana jones #indiana jones imagine #indiana jones imagines #indiana jones/reader #indiana jones x reader #indiana jones smut #c: indiana jones #bex gets after it

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lunarsaturn88 · 2 months

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Are You Crazy?

Pairing; Indiana Jones X Reader

Imagine Indiana taking care of you after you get hurt protecting him.

Warning: Getting shot, wound care

@thefandomimagine

Words: 364

A loud gunshot was the last thing that you could remember before your world went up into darkness. You had been on a case with Indiana, and you had gotten in the way of a gun that was aimed at him. You had grown to care for him as you worked on many cases in the past. You weren’t about to have him be shot.

A soft groan left your lips as you slowly came to. Your eyes fluttered open to see Indiana at your side working on your wound rebandaging it up.

“Take it easy.” He said softly looking at you with a concerned gaze on his face. Something that shouldn’t ever be on his face. It was like he was trying to figure out why you had gotten in the line of fire.

“I’m okay.” You lied softly knowing that the wound hurt like a bitch but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that it hurt.

Indiana gently pushed you back in the bed to make sure that you didn’t try to sit up. “You shouldn’t have taken that bullet for me.”

You let out a soft chuckle before letting out a hiss. Shit even laughing hurt. You would have to be more careful with that.

“See that hurt didn’t it.” He said shaking his head softly as he leaned back in his chair rubbing his face softly.

“Better me than you don’t you think?” You asked softly.

“No…”

“It’s because I’m a woman isn’t it?”

“That’s not it Y/N.” He pointed out rather gruffly as he got the glass of water for you to drink after carefully sitting you up against your pillows.

“I’ll be right as rain soon enough.” You pointed out softly to him offering him a small smile as you went and carefully grabbed the water that he held in his hand.

“You’re lucky you know that?”

“How so?”

“You could’ve had a lot more damage.” He pointed out as you took a few sips of water. “But Y/N promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“Never do something like that again. I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you.”

#Indiana Jones #Indiana Jones/Reader #thefandomimagine #Oneshot #imagine

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veryliteralsin · 1 month

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Theories (Indiana Jones x f!Reader)

In the heart of academia, Dr. Jones and his former star student find themselves locked in a battle of wits and wills...but beneath the academic facade lies a deeper tension, one that threatens to unravel years of carefully-maintained professionalism.

This has been sitting in my docs for about a year thanks to a friend. One of three chapters posted; expect the other two within the week. Enjoy.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54874945/chapters/139099447

#mine #indiana jones #indiana jones x reader #indiana jones x female reader #indiana jones/reader #indiana jones/female reader #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #indiana jones x you #indiana jones/you

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221bshrlocked · 10 months

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By any chance, would anyone be interested in an Indiana Jones fic? More specifically, one that's based in the Harry Potter universe? And as you may have guessed, it's a Teacher/Student trope...

P.S. Idea came from this story on AO3 (thank God it's back) which I love.

#Indiana Jones #harry potter au #fanfiction #indiana jones/reader

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ddejavvu · 9 months

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That last Indy blurb you reblogged, and oh boy.. oh boy… all I could think of is Indy making you ride the end of his whip. making you rub your wet little pussy all over the handle of it for him.

salivating... foaming at the mouth... creaming my pants

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Indiana is nothing if not a massive tease. He knows you're desperate for him, knows he couldn't lose you out in the jungle if he tried, so when you rest your chin over his shoulder, he doesn't give in.

"Not now, sweetheart," He drawls, thumbing through the pages of his notebook like it's more important than your aching pussy, "I'm busy."

"Indy," You whimper, sounding all too bratty as you scoff at his work, "Come on, all we've seen today is dirt. Aren't I a little more important?"

His brows raise, and he fixes you with a look that's part amusement, part incredulity.

"More important? These are historic archaeological discoveries, princess, you don't think that takes precedence over a quick fuck?"

"If it's gonna be quick you won't mind putting the journal away for a bit," You decide, throwing a leg over his thigh. You're purposefully naked beneath your nightgown, the safety of your tent the perfect place to prepare for your night. Despite the lustful call of your hot cunt against his leg, he pushes further, trying to see just how far he can go before you'll beg for it.

"Hey- hey," He gripes, one hand on your hip to hold you from getting any further, "I said I was busy, you little minx. You can wait."

"I don't want to wait," You huff, "Just- fuck me, Indy!"

You've done it. You've said the magic words, you've laid all of your cards on the table, you've guessed the password correctly.

"Well," He pretends to consider, "I could use my fingers. But I really need to work on this."

You know damn well he'll abandon his scholarly facade the second your legs spread. You're playing each other like tense snakes, not sure who'll sink their fangs into the other first.

"I need more than your fingers," You brace your hands on his upper thigh, squeezing more than you need to, "I want your cock, Indy."

"No can do, sweetheart," He grins lazily, all too proud of himself for his restraint. Truthfully, he's already hardening in his pants, the fabric stretching tight over a bulge you're both pretending like you can't see. It's better that way, if you pretend he's not chubbing up and you're not already hot against his thigh. It's better to pretend you don't care, to build the frustration inside until you snap and it floods you both.

"I'm busy. If you want something thicker than my fingers, you'll have to use my whip."

It's a throwaway suggestion, an absurd way of telling you you're in for a long night of teasing. That you're going to have to work for what you want. But you're more than intrigued by it, eyeing the thick leather handle that's mounted on his belt.

"Okay." You catch him off guard with your sense of adventure, and something flickers in his eyes. He muscles it down from his face, though, keeping his smirk tight over his cheeks.

"Okay? That's it? You're gonna fuck it?"

"I'm not waiting around all day," You scoff, taking the leather handle from his belt and sticking it in his non-dominant hand as you settle between his thighs. You've got your back against his chest, and you drag his hand between your legs.

"I'll hold the journal," You brace your hand against its pages, keeping is steady, "You can still write, Indy."

He's a little slow to process the situation, so you groan, "Well come on, fuck me! I thought you were busy, now you're just wasting- time!"

Without warning, Indiana drives the thick, leather girth of his whip into your cunt. It's abrupt, and if you hadn't been steadily producing slick at the condescending tone of his voice the entire time, it would hurt. But it's nothing more than an initial sting, and he laughs in that same cocky tone.

"You brat," He spits, like it's a curse word, "You pitch a big fit about getting fucked like I'm not taking care of you. You're greedy, y'know that? Can't handle a day without a dick in you, y'gotta fuck yourself all over whatever you can get. Is this what you wanted?" He drags the whip in and out of your cunt, marveling at the slick smeared over it, "You wanted to fuck my whip? You're a nasty little thing."

"Oh, shut up," You huff, face turned against his tanned neck. You nip at a spot beneath the hinge of his jaw and you feel his chest swell as he draws a heaving breath in, "You can talk as much shit as you want, Indy, I- ah!" You writhe back against him as he steadily fucks the handle of his whip into your soaked cunt, "I feel you getting hard. I know you like it."

"You're pathetic," He manages to spit through clenched teeth as you suck bruises into his neck. He's right, you're desperate for whatever you can get inside of you and he loves it, he loves watching your cunt suck his whip in like it's his cock.

"And you're not working anymore," You point out that his pen has been long-since discarded, his fist now clenched atop the pages of his journal, "So why don't you cut the bullshit and just fuck me, Indiana."

"Well," He pants, a wry grin taking his features by storm as he wrestles to both lay you down and maneuver himself on top of you. Once he's hovering above you, hairline already gathering glistening sweat as he tries controlling his lust-fueled movements, he smirks down at you, cherishing the feeling of your hands prying at his belt to release his achingly-hard cock, "Since you asked so nicely, sweetheart."

#indiana jones x reader #indiana jones blurb #indiana jones imagine #indiana jones fluff #indiana jones oneshot #indiana jones one-shot #indiana jones one shot #indiana jones headcanons #indiana jones headcanon #indiana jones hc #indiana jones hcs #indiana jones fanfiction #indiana jones drabble #indiana jones dialogue #indiana jones fanfic #indiana jones fic #indiana jones smut #indiana jones au

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 16

Day Fifteen | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Seventeen

Pairing: Indiana Jones x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked

Warnings: Role reversal; period-typical attitudes toward sex; vaginal sex; riding unsafe sex; creampie

He starts to turn up to your classes midway through October. You’ve seen his picture in the paper, heard the conspiratorial whispers of the enamored co-eds across campus, but you’ve never met the man.

You notice him right off the bat—it’s impossible not to. If it hadn’t been for the way most of the female students were twisting in their seats to get a look at him, his countenance would’ve given him away. He was dressed far more professionally than your students, and watching you far more closely than any of them were as well. The afternoon sun glinted off of his glasses as he tracked your movement, from walking into the lecture hall, to setting down your briefcase as you greeted your students.

You’ve nearly forgotten him by the lecture’s end, as your students pack up their things and file out. You focus on getting your scattered notes and attendance sheets together, certain that Jones will trail out with the rest of them. You feel someone watching you as you tuck your notes and attendance into a folder. You glance up, expecting one of your students, but finding him standing there instead.

“Dr. Jones,” You greet, turning your attention back to your bag. “Is there something that I can help you with?”

“Brody told me that he’d hired someone else in the history department, but I haven’t had the time to come and get acquainted.”

“Well, that probably had something to do with your recent excursion to Guatemala.”

He chuckles softly. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

“It certainly does.”

“I just wanted to stop by, say hello…Get a look at the professor that’s been poaching my students.”

“They probably wouldn’t be so easy to poach if you turned up to more than a third of your lectures during a given semester.”

You close your satchel, lifting the strap onto your shoulder and straightening up. He searches your face, eyes narrowing slightly behind his frames.

“Are you headed back to your office?” He asked. “I’d be happy to walk you.”

“Home, actually. I’m done for the day.”

“Could I drive you?”

“That’s quite alright, I drove myself here this morning.”

Jones nods slowly, gaze sweeping curiously over you.

“Perhaps I could drop by one of your lectures again.”

“What for?”

“Fun. I enjoyed it.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. Maybe I could teach you a thing or two about a thing or two.”

Jones’ lips curled with a smile as he nodded.

“We’ll see about that.”

“What was that crack about me missing classes?”

You throw a surly glare over your shoulder at Indiana as he grins up at you. This was not the plan.

After a week, Dr. Jones had made it a point to visit at least one of your classes. After a month, you were planning a lecture series together over dinners and drinks. After two months, Jones had managed to talk you into taking a little weekend trip with him—for the sake of the lecture series, of course.

“I'll go on one condition,” You’d warned, pointing firmly at him.

“I’m listening.”

“I need to be back by noon on Monday at the latest. I have a lecture at three and I despise missing classes.”

“...I will do my best.”

“Jones.”

“Cross my heart, honey.”

He’d raised his hand and crossed his heart, then raised his right hand and gestured, “Scout’s honor.”

You’d wanted to be grated by all of it—the smile, the crossing of his heart, his scout’s honor, the way he’d called you honey. But you’d gone into the weekend with a curious new feeling. You didn’t think that Indiana really wanted to get together for lecture notes, you thought that he wanted to, well…

Well, you’d gotten the impression that Indiana may be interested in you—romantically. It was rare that a man like that asked you to drinks just to talk about the legacy of Alexander the Great, or insisted on walking you to your door afterward.

A weekend away had seemed perfectly in order to kick off the far-less-than-professional side of your relationship. You’d packed your cutest clothes—you'd been excited.

And now rather than snuggling up, you’re following an artifact fencer into a cave in the middle of the Grand Canyon at 3pm on a Monday, dirtying your second favorite outfit, and fighting the urge to sock the grinning fool squarely in the jaw.

“Stifle it, Jones.”

You throw the door to your hotel room open, stomping irritatedly inside and reaching back to shove the door shut again. You don’t hear it close, but you do hear the thud of Indiana’s feet behind you.

“What’s the matter with you?” He asks, shutting the door behind himself.

“You promised, Jones. Crossed your damn heart, if you even have one.”

“Wouldya quit pouting? We did a good thing,” Jones argues. “So you missed a class, so what?”

“It’s the principle of the thing!” You argue, whirling around on him. He’s stunningly close, his brows raised as he watches you. You scowl as he grins amusedly.

“Why did you invite me out here, anyway, Jones?” You add. Something flickers in his gaze just enough for you to seize on.

“For the lecture series,” He insists. “Obviously.”

“Obviously?” You narrow your eyes, stepping toe-to-toe with him. “That’s all?”

“Why else would I have invited you?”

“For something like this, perhaps?” You reach out, grasping his cheeks and draw him in. He flails a bit for balance as your lips crash together. He steadies himself as he rests his hands on your hips, sighing softly against them as he uses his grasp to pull you closer. You let him steer you back toward the bed, but before he can push you down, you turn and give Indiana a push. He bounces back onto the mattresses, eyes wide as he peers up at you, his kiss-plumped lips parted in surprise. You smile, straddling his lap as he propped himself up on his elbows.

“What do you think you’re doing, huh?” He asks, sliding his hands over your thighs.

“You’ve been giving me orders all afternoon, Jones. It’s time to let me steer.”

You watched Indiana’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly. He’d hardly taken his eyes off of you as you’d undressed, hardly been able to keep still as you’d climbed onto his lap. Now, his eyelids lowered as you slowly rolled your hips, sliding down onto his cock.

“C’mon,” He groans.

“Shut up.”

“You wanted to steer, but don't know how to drive.”

“We don’t need to floor it. Besides,” You give your hips a little swivel. “I’ve already got the key in the ignition.”

Indiana growls low in his chest, his head falling back against the pillows as you cast him a wicked grin. You brace your hands on either side of his head, bowing down over him.

“You’re really not used to this, are you?” You murmurs.

“Don’t get a big head, honey. I’m so used to this it’d make a Parisian courtesan blush.”

“Not this,” You chuckled, tightening up around him, and grinning as he grips your hips more tightly. “I meant not being in charge.”

Indiana glares up at you with muted wrath, a deep breath drawing in through his nose. You giggle, leaning back and giving a showy bite to your lip as your hips meet Indiana’s.

“You aren’t,” You insist as you set a punishingly slow pace. “It’s driving you crazy. Look at that little tick jumping in your jaw.”

Indiana’s hands raise to grasp your breasts, but you catch hold of his hands, intertwining your fingers and using your full force to pin them up over his head. His arms flex as he presses up against your grip, and you know that Indiana could easily throw you over. You brush your lips against his, then dip closer for a deeper kiss as you begin to grind your hips unhurriedly. Indiana’s lips part beneath yours, his tongue swiping out to brush and tease against yours.

He loses himself in your kisses, letting his straining muscles go slack against the mattress as you screw your hips down against his. You finally draw back from the kiss, shivering as Indiana leans up, swiping his tongue against your peaked nipple. You sigh, pressing your hips back against his and arching your back to push your breasts into his face. He turns his head, nuzzling the valley of breasts before sucking your other breast between his lips. You reach down, playing with your tingling clit and brushing against the slick base of Indiana’s shaft.

Your pace begins to falter as your attention is torn between the press of Indiana’s cock and the practiced swipe of your fingers against your own flesh. You gasp softly as the familiar sensation of your orgasm begins sneaking up on you. You let go of Indiana’s other hand and push yourself up, resting your hand on his chest as you pick up your pace. You look down at Indiana and find him watching you closely as you use him for your own pleasure. You curl your fingers, nails digging into Indiana’s chest. He groans, grasping your hips and using the grip to take control of the pace.

You don’t bother to stop him. You just tip your head back and thumb one of your nipples, cursing as you finally cum. Indiana pushes himself up against you, his chest pressed against yours. His arm hooks around your waist, pulling you closer. You can hear the grunts and groans beneath his breath, feel the harsh pants as he grows closer and closer beneath you. Indiana draws you down on top of him again, using his grip on your hips to fuck you through your orgasm. You watch his eyes roll back into his head, his groan choked out as he fills you. your cunt still twitching around him. You sigh softly, snuggling against Indiana’s chest as he calms. You smile as Indiana’s arms curl around your back, keeping you close.

“...Tell you what,” He mumbles after a moment. “You’re not such a bad driver.”

You chuckle, rolling off of Indiana and onto your back.

“I’m flattered.”

You gaze up at the ceiling as you feel Indiana roll onto your side, watching you closely. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

“How long can I convince you to stay here?” He murmurs.

“In bed?”

“In Arizona.”

You scoff, turning to look at indiana.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“I’ve got classes tomorrow, Jones.”

“Skip ‘em.”

You roll your eyes, looking up at the ceiling again.

“Ridiculous.”

Indiana reaches out, stroking gently along your arm.

“You really give a damn,” He comments. His voice is soft, almost stunned.

“Making fun of me?”

“No,” Indiana insists. “Hell, I like it.”

"Maybe I could teach you a thing or two about it."

"Giving a damn?"

"Mhm. Teach you how to keep your promises, next."

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#Indiana Jones x Reader #Indiana Jones x You #Indiana Jones/Reader #Indiana Jones/You #Indiana Jones fic #Indiana Jones imagine #Kinktober #Kinktober 2023

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hanasnx · 7 months

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MINORS DNI 18+

INDIANA JONES has that effortless brat-taming way about him. When he tells you to “Sit down.” because you’re getting too uppity, you’ll sit down. When you’re acting fussy because he’s spending too much time away from home, he’ll call you out on it before finding a satisfactory solution for you. For the most part, he’s highly logical when presented with problems. So logical sometimes it’s hard to argue with him because he doesn’t wanna see the emotional side of things. Oh, but when you give him the silent treatment... it's an entirely different story.

His boots thunder after you as you walk away from him with your nose stuck up in the air. "You ignorin' me?" he questions. He knows the answer, but he's incredulous. You've noted how when he's angry, he's looser with proper pronunciation. So at least you're getting somewhere.

"Hey." he warns, his large hand clamping onto your upper arm to whip you around and face him. "Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you."

You glare up at him, jerking your limb from his hold. "Oh, were you? I didn't notice, Pa." As you speak you cross your arms, closing your eyes to pivot your head in the opposite direction. The nickname you call him so affectionately is now used to pierce him. Instead, it backfires. You see it in the way he sets his jaw.

"I'll show you why you call me that."

With all the rage a father can have, and all the passion a lover is capable of, he makes sure to teach you not to address your Pa so informally. Your poor ass a mess of a sloppy, red welt when he's done.

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harrisonbrainrot · 5 months

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An anon requested this, I accidentally deleted the ask. But! I did it.

Indy NSFW alphabet - Q, U, Z

18+ minors dni

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

I like to think Indy is the master of quickies. Like, if there's one thing he's mastered with sex, it's fucking and fucking fast. He lives a busy life, he doesn't always have time for a nice, long dickdown. I imagine he'll be down to have a quick fuck between moments of peril when he knows you're as safe as you're gunna be for a while. Who knows if it's your last time together? Shit can go south quick in his line of work.

On the flip side; the second things go right, without a hitch (it happens sometimes, he's not always dodging Nazis), he'll fuck you, artifact in hand. Face pressed against the dirty, dusty temple wall. Each breath you take makes little puffs of dust, exposing more of the intricate carvings you're witnessing in a very intimate way. He'll knock your feet apart with his boot, hand on your hip as he fumbles the prize into his bag. Immediately he's pulling his cock out, he fucks you with exuberance, with this elation you only see when he has these breakthroughs. It strokes his ego, he knows he's the best in these moments. He wants you clawing that wall, keeping that mantra of "Indy, you- you're the best. No one does it like you, fuck, no one." He wants those temple walls to remember your names.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

C'mon. It's Indiana. He's a massive tease. He likes to take moments to whisper in your ear how ravishing you look, how delicious, how beautiful. He he can't wait to get you out of that outfit later. He'll give you little touches, lifting your chin with barely a finger, a gentle thumb on the apple of your cheek. Little things he knows you'll remember because they're ghosts of how he really, truly fucks you. He'll do it all night, anywhere. If he's got more of a private moment with you, it's light kisses on your neck, nibbles to your ear, his nose nuzzled behind your ear. He'll tease you until his dick is hard and he can't handle it anymore.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

This man (unless it's a quickie) is out like a fucking light. He rolls over, chest sweaty and heaving. He'll trace the length of your spine like it's the most delicate parchment holding key secrets. His lips gracing your shoulder as his breathing settles. Then he's tugging you close, almost rough, keeping you wedged almost under him. His arm acting as a delightful pillow and his other hand over your hip, his hand splayed half on the small of your back and the top of your ass. Before you know it, he's snoring in your ear, curling into you, legs tangled, fingers buried in your hair. He's a sweet guy, mumbling incoherent things you can't make out. Sometimes it's a different language. Occasionally it's your name. He eventually rolls over, but takes your arm with him, keeping it draped over his waist. He likes being the little spoon sometimes, but he's not going to ever admit that, he's too fucking proud.

#indiana jones #indiana jones imagines #indiana jones x reader #indiana jones/reader #indiana jones imagine #indiana jones smut

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ave09 · 10 months

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marriage

indiana jones x reader

“indy?”

“doll?”

“where do you draw the line when it comes to grading?” the man glanced up at you, pushing his round spectacles up the bridge of his nose, “what do you mean?”

you slid the test you were grading across the table, “her answer is correct technically speaking, but he added a lot of unnecessary information that i had to pick the paragraph apart to find the right answer.”

his hazel eyes skimmed the overly large paragraph, chuckling, “mark it as wrong.” you arched your brows in surprise, “really?” indiana nodded, “she’s adding in the extra information in order to try and score points with me, i’ve seen it too many times before.”

“but won’t marking it wrong benefit her? this is worth ten points, marking this wrong will bring her to an F. therefore, you will have you will have to meet with her after class, giving her exactly what she wants, which is alone time with her attractive professor.”

indiana stared blankly for a moment. he knew you were right. and yet, his answer remained the same, “mark it wrong.”

you complied, using a red pen to mark an ‘x’ over the question. “well, don’t complain to me when she starts writing ‘love you’ across her eyelids.”

suddenly, indiana rose from his seat abruptly, “maybe it’s time to show them that i already have a lovely lady.”

“they know, i’ve been to your class before, indiana.”

“no no, i mean like officially. show ‘em that i’m off the market completely.” you furrowed your brows, “indy, i’m not following.” the man rushed out of the room, toward the kitchen. you rose to follow him, only to hear, “don’t move!”

so you remained seated. you heard a rummaging sound, then a clang. your gut told you to go see what was going on, but you remained compliant to indiana’s orders.

he reentered the room, “okay,” he exhaled deeply, “i was gonna plan this out, make it nice and all, but i am known to be spontaneous..”

then he dropped to one knee. your eyes widened as he revealed a small velvet box. you couldn’t believe it.

“beautiful, we’ve been through a whole hell of a lot. from wild adventures, to almost dying, you’ve stuck with me through it all. and i’ll be honest, i never saw myself as the type of guy to settle down, but, then i met you.”

tears stung your eyes.

“you make me better, you make my life better. you’re the light in the darkness and i love you so much.”

he opened the box, revealing a beautiful diamond ring.

“will you do me and the honor, and become mrs. jones.”

you smiled tearfully, nodding rapidly, “of course i will, indy.” he grinned widely, “i had a feeling you’d say yes.” indiana then rose to his full height, you stood as well, approaching him. the man gently reached for your left hand, sliding the band onto your ring finger.

you couldn’t believe it! you were getting married!

“y’know, i think this calls for a celebration.”

“celebration?” you were thinking he met breaking out the wine, or even heading to the bedroom. but instead, indiana moseyed toward the stereo, clicking it on.

‘cheek to cheek’ by fred astaire began playing.

indiana turned around, extending a hand toward you, “dance with me?”

“of course.” you replied, taking his hand. you two danced around your dining room, completely forgetting about the pile of papers that needed to be graded.

indiana began singing along in a low voice, “when we’re off together dancing cheek to cheek.” it was always a surprise to hear him

sing. it was one of the man’s many hidden talents, and you were the only one he’d ever sing for.

he then spun you around, before pulling you close to him.

“i love you.” he whispered, leaning in to kiss you.

“i know.” you replied, only to have him

jerk back, “ i know? that’s all i get? i know?” you let out a loud laugh, “i love you too, indy. more than anything.” you then pressed your lips to his in a passionate kiss.

— — —

the next morning, indiana jones walked to his classroom with an unexplained pep in his step. the students exchanged confused looks, the professors were curious.

the man stepped into his classroom, clapping his hands as he grinned at the students, “good morning class!”

“good morning, doctor jones.” they replied. one of the girls, the very one who had added all the entire information onto her test, raised her hand.

“yes, miss fisher?”

“you seem very happy this morning, doctor jones, has something happened?” the man’s smile somehow grew bigger as he thought back to the events of the night before.

“something has happened, miss fisher, and i’ve been waiting all morning to tell you-i’m getting married.”

#indiana jones x reader #indiana jones #indiana jones and the temple of doom #indy #indiana jones and the raiders of the lost ark #harrison ford x reader #harrison ford movies #young harrison ford

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mickandmusings · 6 days

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mickandmusings masterlist

Last Updated: 5-3-24

Requests: Open!

Requesting rules here!

Supernatural:

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Castiel

Marvel:

Bucky Barnes

Thor Odinson

Loki Laufeyson

Stephen Strange

Bridgerton:

Anthony Bridgerton

Benedict Bridgerton

Colin Bridgerton

Star Wars:

Din Djarin

Poe Dameron

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Anakin Skywalker

Ben Solo

Top Gun:

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Robert 'Bob' Floyd

Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell

Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky

The Bear:

Carmy Berzatto

Stranger Things:

Steve Harrington

Eddie Munson

Other:

Joel Miller

Javier Pena

Rafe Cameron

Indiana Jones

Prince Eric (live action)

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panicpixieplaygirl · 8 months

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PRIVATE PORTFOLIO (indiana jones)

synopsis: dr. jones gets the wrong portfolio from a soon to graduate pupil. PART 2

word count: 2k warnings: smut-ish?, age gap, teacher-student

MINORS DNI! 18+

You were giddy, giggling and chatting to your friend, Marjorie. The end of spring semester was here, the weather was nice, and you were finally graduating. You had planned an exciting summer, ready to break loose and embrace the wide, open, adult world, and had already begun as you finalized the last of your exams, projects, and duties. You had crossed the very last task off your list, turning in your final portfolio to Dr. Jones, and were ready to share the daring first step of your liberation with your dear friend.

"They're really tasteful, not even as racy as I wanted them to be. I didn't even get nude. But the lingerie, Marge, oh, it's gorgeous." You spoke to her at your side as you slipped the thin, black, monogrammed portfolio from your bag.

"I always thought only brides did those sorts of portfolios. Do you think I should get some done? I mean, what if someone finds them?" Marjorie was no more a prude than you were, but they were valid questions for young women. But you were women; grown, adult women, about to embark on a new chapter of your lives. There wasn't a more perfect time.

"Just wait 'til you see them. They're artistic. You'd look amazing, when you see what they did for me, you won't be able to resist. Besides, this sort of thing is about us. Better fit for graduation than a wedding anyway. Oh, just wait until you see!" You both squeal and knock into each other excitedly as you close the gap between your shoulders, shielding the portfolio from any lingering eyes that may appear, despite your backs to the wall in the university library.

But when you finally opened the portfolio, the heat from the thrill drained from your cheeks, replaced with a quick, anxious pattering of your heart.

"Oh, shit!" You exclaimed loudly, enough to echo and get a few glares from others nearby finishing their studies. You turn to Marjorie, whose eyes are as wide as yours, and let out a panicked whisper.

"I put the wrong goddamn portfolio in Dr. Jones' office!"

You rush out of the library as quickly as you can without causing a scene, and head straight for Dr. Jones' office, praying he wouldn't be there. It had been less than 15 minutes since you dropped it off. Hopefully he was busy enough around this time that he wouldn't have seen it yet, you could just switch them. Hopefully.

Unfortunately for you, your signature monogrammed folder at the top of his stack was a delight for Dr. Jones. You were a star student all throughout your time in the program, and a competent, thorough display of knowledge and skill would be a perfect break in the half-assed mediocrity he'd been trudging through. He wasted no time opening the portfolio.

And of course, the display he stumbled upon was far from what he expected.

Initially, Dr. Jones’ stomach and mouth twisted at the prospect that this was some audacious attempt to seduce him in turn for a passing final grade, but it just seemed too out of character, and unnecessary for you. He couldn't piece it together.

Worse, he couldn't bring it upon himself to close the folder, or tear his eyes from it. He scanned the first photo, your hair, your eyes, your figure, felt his heart leap at the chance to view you in a new light.

When he gained the confidence to flip through the next images, he was amazed at how artistically they were done, capturing every curve of your body in a way that made his chest and his pants grow tight. He knew he should stop, but he couldn't help himself. The photographs were captivating, and he couldn't look away.

He was ashamed of his reaction, but he couldn't help the way his body was responding to the images before him. He tried to rationalize it, to convince himself that it was just a temporary lapse in judgment, but the more he looked, the more he was convinced that it wasn't just the images that were getting to him. It was the idea of you, his unusually reserved, star student, exploring her sexuality in a way he never could've predicted.

Dr. Jones had never felt such an intense attraction towards a student before. He felt a warmth spreading throughout his body, his blood pulsing, heart racing, thoughts consumed with the images before him. He felt guilty for looking, but he couldn't resist the temptation.

Your knock on his door breaks him from his condemnable indulgence with a start. He clumsily shuffles the photos quickly back together and shuts the slim black folder, clearing his throat before calling out.

"Yeah, come in."

Your heart rate and shame mirrored his when you entered his office, and only worsened at the sight of your portfolio in his large hands.

He saw the alternative folder in your hands, and his earlier conclusions were confirmed. A mistake, not even meant for his eyes. To think, what he would have missed, the sensuality you hid behind that sweet act. He wouldn't miss any more. This could be the last meeting between you. There wasn't a more perfect time.

His silence only stressed your anxiety, your throat dry as you went to speak.

"Have you... opened it?" You ask in a hushed tone. It sends shivers up Indiana's spine, but he hides them too well.

"I have." He says, coming off dismissively to you, and you feel your stomach drop with his words.

It occurrs to you that he probably assumed you did it on purpose- one of many students desperate for the attention of their stunning, charming professor, and somehow you were filled with even more dread.

You were no different than the others; although you wouldn't ever make a move, especially one as bold as this, no one could deny he was magnetically attractive.

And now he was likely to humiliate you. Or worse.

What a way to start the summer.

“Close the door." His voice was stern, pulling you out of your spiraling. You worried your knees may just give out below you with his tone.

Dr. Jones was never especially strict, but he certainly wasn’t forgiving. You could only hope that he would spare you some mercy, understanding, discretion, enough to let you seize your freedom.

You turned to shut the door, taking your time, working up the courage to face him again. When you did he was standing, gazing down at the portfolio he’d opened once again.

"Dr. Jones," you started, doing your best to keep your voice steady. "I really didn't mean for you to see... that portfolio. I was hoping you wouldn’t be here actually."

He glanced up at you only for a brief moment, eyes slowly and deliberately scanning your figure, before returning his eyes back to the photos.

"I see that.” He replied almost humorously, referring to your obvious fright and the identical folder in your hand. “Doesn't change that I have, though."

For a brief moment, you worried about your health more than anything. Your heart pounded with an alarming force, your breath was short and ragged. As proud as you were, it was never your intention for these images to grace the eyes of anyone other than your girlfriends, really. Especially your professor. Dr. Jones, of them all; that was the worst part.

With those dreamy eyes observing your portraits so closely, your embarrassment was accompanied by a creeping arousal, dull but developing. He was studying them, ingesting them, grading them. And Dr. Jones always gave you good marks. You found delight in your dread, being on display for his judgement, wondering what he might think, say, do. The fleeting thought that he may be enjoying them. But you were nearly hyperventilating, and his silence was too biting for you to keep your mouth shut.

"Really, I'm sorry, they're..." Private? Deviant? Pornographic? You couldn't even find the words to express your humiliation.

"They're remarkable."

Your stomach drops with his admission, heat blossoming in your cheeks.

"What?"

He laughs then, deep and slow, like he should’ve expected it all along, sliding his glasses off and setting them aside. He’s still looking at the portraits, and it’s killing you, even after his unforeseen compliment. You can’t believe your ears.

And then he’s coming around his desk and slowly striding toward you, and you can’t believe your eyes either. His beauty was distracting before, but now it was plain intimidating. You rarely considered the man that existed under his professional attire, he was flawless enough, but his bare face compelled you to let your mind run. Even just the tiny, non-obstructing layer being shed has you thirsting for more.

“You’re too humble, doll. Always have been.” His voice is softer now, the pet name makes your heart skip and your cunt flutter.

He closes the gap between you quickly in his small office, now closer to you than he ever had been. Your back meets the door as he towers over you, trapping you in his imposing frame. His cologne is woodsy & sweet, like cedar, strong with the paper-thin distance between you. You’re already beyond words, nearly convinced that you had passed out from the stress and were now stuck in a dream, but the reaction from your body feels too real.

“Everything you’ve ever brought across my desk has been impressive. So don’t tell me you’re sorry.” He speaks lowly and seductively, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek. “You didn’t look very sorry in those pictures.”

You can’t help the way your eyes flutter shut and your chest heaves as you try to ignore the electric shocks dancing through your body at the feel of his hand on you. Already you’re putty in his hands, melting further into the puddle steadily forming in your panties. He’s not even punishing you, much the opposite, but still he’s managed to disastrously humiliate you with how easily you’re crumbling for him.

Indiana almost didn’t expect you to reflect his attraction. You were smarter than the rest, smart enough not to chase after a man twice to your age. But he could practically smell your arousal, sweetening your already honeyed scent. Maybe he was a fool, but he could only believe your want for him was well-informed, reasoned, real. Your reaction satisfies some unknown, haunting yearning deep within him, emboldening him to go on further, finally admit the truth to each of you.

“I’m not sorry for lookin’ at ‘em.”

Your eyes fly back open and meet his mystical ones. He sees it then, before you even know it’s there, the filth you were nearly ready to unleash on him, the new, lustful look in your eye, making him twitch. But it’s nothing compared to your next words.

“You really liked my photos, Dr. Jones?”

Indiana huffs out a breath through his nose like the question is comical. What was a genuine inquiry for you was received by him as a coy act that he was growing tired of. He’d seen the girl in the photos, he knew how wanton you could be. He lifts your chin so he can speak against your ear.

“Don’t play innocent.” His free hand reaches for yours and brings it to the front of his slacks, and you gasp in surprise to find him nearly fully hard under your palm. He lets out a soft, groaning sigh at your feather-light touch, relishes in your broken “oh” as he presses himself harder against your hand.

For all his experience, you were innocent; a virgin relative to him. What he saw in you was the potential he could bring out of you. But you were ripe and primed to learn, especially from the beautiful, brawny professor pressing you into his office door.

“You knew exactly what you were doing.”

His hand leaves yours and pins your full hand to your hips, reaching to your side to lock the door.

#dr. jonesing #indiana jones x reader smut #indiana jones x reader

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