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slutforln4 · 9 months

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libertine — joel miller.

synopsis. you've been having sexual fantasies about the substitute professor at your college. when the opportunity to get a better mark on a shitty essay you wrote arises, you take it. quite literally take it.

pairing. professor!joel x student!reader/fem!reader

warnings. smut, a smidge of fluff at the end, masturbation in a public bathroom, joel's got a southern accent that i tried to make obvious in the fic (if it's crappy, 'm sorry), oral (m receiving), unprotected piv, inexperienced and virgin reader, age gap (reader is in their early 20s and joel's in his late 40s), dom/sub dynamics praise kink, dirty talk. idk what else there is...

goes without saying but this is 18+, MDNI. i'm not responsible for what typa media you consume, but beware for your own good.

word count. 2.6k

author's note. i haven't written smut before so here's my shot at the self-indulgent professor!joel hc that i have... hope you enjoy ❤️ part two in the makings if this does well!!

Classic literature didn't come easy to you, but fucking your professor did.

It started off as every normal day at college did— you flow through your entire schedule, some free time here and there, during which you manage to take a nap or catch up on missing assignments, and at the end of almost every day, you were met with the class you hated, but also loved, the most… Classic literature.

The class itself is fairly easy. All you had to do was read some novels, write essays based on topics from said novels and also write a thorough analysis of it. Easy stuff. But you struggled with the essay writing, it just wasn't your thing.

However, you can't say that you didn't enjoy the class. The most interesting part of it being that substitute professor, Mr. Miller, that just transferred in. Him and that Texan accent of his, those deep, brown eyes, that salt-and-pepper hair trailing down his jaw, those luscious thighs and whatever's hiding behind the zipper of his jeans… You can't stop thinking about it.

It’s been occupying your mind for however long he's been working at your college, and you can't help but have those thoughts when it comes to him. From the way he looks, down to the way he talks about love, he’s attractive inside and out. The way he talks about women, though, was the thing that caught your attention the most. He speaks so highly of them that it almost seems like he worships them, which makes you want to fuck him all the more.

The day you decided to put your mind to rest and have your body do the work, Mr. Miller had put up another assignment.

You dreadfully open up your email at the beginning of class, and groan when the body of it reads “Essay about the importance of expressing love in current youth based on your analysis of Romeo and Juliet due next week Thursday, midnight.”

Turning off your phone, you assert your attention back to your professor. He stood there, in his suit and all, looking more delicious than ever as he reminded your class to check their emails. The stern tone in his voice made your insides flutter, and the way he held onto his waist… God, you can't help but rub your thighs together to hide the throbbing between your legs, already feeling the wetness in your panties.

“Alright, pull out ya laptops and open up that website I told y’all about,” Mr. Miller says, and you’re the first one to obey his order. He gives you a look and when your eyes lock with his, he smiles at you. “As I already mentioned in the emails, we’ll be readin’ and analysin’ Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.”

The more he spoke, the less you could pay attention. Your eyes travelled all over his face, his chest, down to his crotch. Even without a hard-on, there was an imprint in his dress pants. Mr. Miller was the type to speak with his hands, resulting in you ogling at the way his fingers move in the air.

Mr. Miller begins talking about how love is portrayed in the tragedy, his tone changing with each point he makes. You stare at his lips, silently wishing they were on your body, somewhere. Anywhere would be fine as long as all his attention was on you. On all the parts that long for his touch.

You try your best to focus on what he’s saying, writing down what you need to remember. Your thighs are clenching together again when Mr.Miller scratches the back of his head, his bicep visible through the sleeve of his jacket. That’s about as much as you can take.

You hesitantly get up from your seat, mumbling a quiet “excuse me” as you walk out through the doors. It must've looked weird, since you ran out the door in such a rush, but you didn't care. Your main concern was finding a bathroom before all the thoughts about your professor fucking you into oblivion could make you cum on the spot.

You hurry past all the staff that are scattered across the halls and barge into the women’s bathroom. It's quiet and you’re sure you're alone, but you still check. “Hello?” No response. You hurry yourself into a stall and lock the door.

You don't even lift the toilet seat when you sit down on it, your skirt and panties on the floor. You spread your legs and put your fingers into a V shape, spreading your lips open. Using your other hand, you gather some of the arousal that’s been leaking out of you for the past twenty minutes and use it to coat your clit as your finger slowly rubs circles on it.

"That’s it,” you can almost hear Mr. Miller talking in your ear. “That’s my girl.”

“Fuck,” you mumble to yourself, feeling yourself getting more horny with the flood of thoughts that won't stop. Your finger rubs circles on your clit, increasing the pressure from time to time. Subconsciously, your hand unbuttons the shirt you’re wearing to reveal your bare chest and begins twirling your hard nipple. You imagine it's his hands, that he’s the one pleasuring you. Your finger’s now working at a pace you can't keep up with, quietly moaning out your professors last name when you use the hand that was rubbing your clit to finger yourself.

One finger in and you’re already gasping at the image on the back of your eyelids. You’re imagining it's his fingers in you, his cock in his other hand as he jerks himself off. You put a second finger in and start thrusting it in and out, when the image changes to his hips clashing into yours as his dick hits spots your fingers could only dream of. Your hips jolt against your fingers at the image of his veiny cock so vividly throbbing in your imagination.

You bring your other hand down to your clit, rubbing the throbbing nub once again. “Fuck,” you whimper as you feel your climax nearing. Your fingers curl inside you, and you’re about to let go.

“Attagirl,” the voice in the back of your head says and that’s the last push for you to cum all over your own fingers, your juices leaking out onto the toilet seat. You continue rubbing your clit until your climax wears off.

When you’re back in the classroom, everyone's already left, only Mr. Miller’s sat at his desk, typing away. His eyes look up at you when you enter through the door. “Oh, hey. I kept your stuff safe, since ya left in such a rush.” A comforting smile decorates his face. He’s so considerate it makes your clit throb again.

“Uh, thank you, sir.” You mumble shyly, packing your stuff into your bag and getting ready to leave. Mr. Miller’s eyes are on you when you turn back towards him.

He clears his throat. “I also wanted to speak to ya ‘bout somethin’.”

“Oh,” you nod. “Alright, what is it?”

“Listen, sweetheart. Y’know the last essay I assigned you to write?” He asks, eyebrows raised in question. You bite your bottom lip as you think back on what the last assignment was. When you remember, you nod. “Alright, well… You didn't do too good on it.”

“I know,” you laugh awkwardly, trying to hide the shame you feel. “It wasn't my finest work.”

“Yeah.” He laughs with you in an attempt to ease the situation. “But, uh. You can rewrite it and I’ll raise your mark. Whaddya say?”

You think it over for a moment, before shaking your head. “I think I could…” You’re not sure where this confidence is coming from, but you’re suddenly approaching him. “Get my mark up another way…” Your eyes glance down at his crotch and you bite your lip. When Mr. Miller realises what you’re insinuating, he shakes his head, but his eyes say different.

“Honey, it goes against teacher-student policy, you know that.” He reminds you, but you’re already on your knees in front of him and under his desk, batting your long eyelashes at him to get your way. His bulge grows right in front of your face and you don't think anymore, you just do. Your fingers are unclasping his belt, unzipping his pants and pulling them down. “Sweetheart-” he gets cut off by his dick springing up after you pull his boxers down, precum already leaking out of it. “Fuck.”

You look at him, not sure of what to do. You’ve never sucked a dick before, and the one in front of you would surely end up somehow fucking up your throat. You contemplate just sitting down on it, riding it like you did to your pillow when you woke up from a wet dream about him. That is, until he speaks. “You gonna stare at it or suck it like you wanted to?”

The tone in his voice changed from formal and sweet to deep and dominant, and you’re wet again from just the sound of it. “I’ve never, uh… done this before.”

Mr. Miller nods his head towards you. “Put your lips on the tip,” you do as told, your lips wrapping around the tip of his cock. “Just like that,” he says, his voice wavering. “Now put it in your mouth,” you hesitate to do so, instead wrapping your fingers around the base of his large cock. “Don't be shy, you want your mark up, don't ya?”

You nod, slowly opening your mouth to put more of his cock in. When it hits the back of your throat, you gag a bit. “Breathe through your nose, babygirl.” You do as told and the gagging goes away. “Now, slowly bob your head up and down. Yeah, just- just like that, fuck.” You're bobbing your head up and down on his dick, your fingers working at the base of it. His hips buckle and his dick thrusts deeper in your throat. A moan rumbles in your throat and vibrates on Mr. Miller’s dick, and he has to refrain himself from shoving his whole dick down your throat.

“Fuck, just like that,” he moans. “Good girl.” The praise makes you that much more wet, and you moan against his dick again.

Suddenly, the door swings open and Mr. Miller sits up, looking at whoever entered his classroom. Your mouth doesn't leave his cock, you simply thrust it in your mouth harder, using your tongue to caress his shaft. “Good evening,” he greets the janitor who came in to clean the classroom. “I, uh, I still got some,” Mr. Miller balls his fingers into a fist as he holds back a moan, trying his best to focus on the conversation with your mouth still sucking him off. “I’m still workin’, gimme thirty more minutes.”

The door closes behind the janitor and Mr. Miller leans back against his chair, his eyes half-lidded and looking down at you. He feels his orgasm nearing when you begin pumping the base of his cock again, along with thrusting his dick into your mouth. “I’ll be cummin’ in your mouth if you don't pull away right now, sweetheart.”

Your mouth leaves his cock, but your fingers still jerk him off. A deep moan leaves his lips as a string of hot cum shoots out in loads onto your clothed chest and neck. You’re still pumping his dick when he motions for you to get up. You stand up from under his desk and he’s immediately pulling you closer to himself. You're sat on his lap, dick still hard and rubbing on your belly as his lips connect with yours. He can still taste himself in your mouth and he smirks at that.

His hands are on your knees, but with each kiss, they inch closer and closer to where you need him the most. When he reaches the wet spot on your panties, he grins against your mouth. “So ready for me, hm?”

You nod, whimpering at the soft contact of his finger to your clothed clit. “Yes, Mr. Miller, please-”

“Call me Joel,” he mumbles as his fingers wrap around the waistband of your panties and tug them off of you. He slowly grabs you by the waist and aligns his cock with your dripping cunt.

“Wait-” you pause kissing him when you feel the tip brushing up against your folds. “I haven't- Y’know…”

Joel smirks. “You a virgin, baby?” You nod, slowly. “I’ll take care of ya, I promise.” You feel his finger rub over your hole, gathering some of your slick to rub it on his dick.

His hands slowly lower your waist down, his cock slipping past your folds with ease and you gasp at the feeling of him filling you up. It’s everything you’ve been dreaming of. He’s so big that it feels like you’re being split open. “You okay?” He asks you with a kiss to your collarbone. You nod, your bottom lip between your teeth and hands tightly gripping onto his shoulders. “Good, ‘cause this ain't all of it yet,” he says, voice low and taunting, before lowering you all the way down. You whimper as you feel his cock brush against your cervix.

“Fuck,” you whisper, leaning up to kiss his lips as you adjust to the size of him. Joel just holds you there, not moving you until you’re ready. His fingers find your throbbing clit and start rubbing it, your lips still connected. “Mmh,” you moan, your hips jolting towards his fingers and moving his dick deeper inside of you.

You begin pushing yourself up and slipping back down, a string of moans leaving your lips. “Attagirl.”

You’re riding his cock, feeling each and every inch of him filling up your insides. You can feel every throb of his veins pulsing inside of you and you catch all his moans with your lips. His hands are gripping your hips, pulling you down with more force. The classroom is filled with sounds of skin clashing on skin. You’re moaning and whimpering, his cock threatening to tip you over the edge. “I’m… I-” you can't even speak.

“You what, baby?” He asks, his thumbs digging into your hips with the intensity of your thrusts. “You gonna cum for me? You gon’ be a good girl and cum all on my dick?” You can't manage to speak so you nod, tears spilling from your eyes as you feel your climax approaching.

He’s thrusting up at you, now, his climax approaching him again. You're a moaning and whimpering mess, begging him to make you cum with the broken words you’re mumbling. “Ple- Please… Fu-uck, Joel…”

“Let go for me,” he coaxes, his lips right by your ear. “I got you, pretty girl.”

With a loud moan, you’re cumming all over his dick and you feel his hot liquid fill up your insides with a couple more thrusts of his hips. Joel kisses you again. Like a starving man that hasn't eaten for days on end. He kisses you with passion, with more than just lust behind those eyes.

When you both pull away, he makes sure to clean you up. “You were so good for me, sweetheart.” He praises. “So good.”

You’re not sure what to say, so you just kiss him again. And again. And one more time. Until he’s kissing on your neck again, but he inevitably stops and leans into your ear. “I gotta get to work, baby.”

“Okay,” you say with a sigh. “Thanks for helping me with the essay,” your lips pull into a small smirk as you open the door to his classroom.

“All thanks to you.” He returns the same smile. “Couldn’t have finished it without you.”

You shake your head with a laugh. “You’re so unfunny,” and close the door behind yourself.

#joel miller #the last of us #pedro is daddy #joel x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #professor!joel #student!reader #pedro pascal fic #joel miller x you #praise

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savannahsdeath · 9 months

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TEACHER!ELLIE WILLIAMS X STUDENT!READER

PART 1ONE

part 2two

mdni please<3

summary: you stay with your teacher - ellie because youre sure she didnt grade your exam correctly. she turns out to be easy to spend time with, even though youre her student

warnings: 18+ please!!

writers note: calling ellie 'miss williams' kinda cringes me but ig thats how it is.. before yall attack me or smthn reader is not a minor so its all legal also i imagine this is like the last grade of highschool?? i dont know what age it is in usa since im polish and yeah it would be legal for us but maybe not in america so idk😭😭

Ellie Williams was a teacher in your college, most students' favourite. She wasn't boring or too strict although she was serious about her lessons and she always made sure everyone listens. The point is, everyone wanted to listen.

You loved how passionate she is about her job. You could tell sharing her knowledge with next generations makes her proud. The rest of the students mostly liked her for her looks. She was attractive, even for you, especially when she was looking at you from under her glasses. Oh, god, her glasses... And the way she adjusts them with her slim fingers... Yes, she was definitely attractive. And pretty young, as for a teacher. But the way all of those stupid frat boys made clearly sexual comments about her was making you want to throw up.

You never missed her lessons and you were her best student. You could tell she appreciates the way you look honestly interested in her lessons. That's why you were surprised when you suddenly got a D from an assignment.

You stayed after class to talk with her about it. Something was off. You stayed the whole night to do it, with blood, sweat and tears.

You found her in her office, reading some papers. After saying simple 'good afternoon' you sat in a chair in front of her desk. She dropped the papers that turned out to be your assignment.

"I was just about to talk to you." She sternly said, not looking in your direction. "Why are you helping him?"

You had no idea what she's talking about, so you stayed quiet, letting her talk.

"You've always been so responsible - straight A's, making the presentations in time. Did he pay you? Be honest, I won't report it anywhere. Luke wouldn't do that himself."

You frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't understand. What does Luke has to do with this?"

Luke was your talking stage. You weren't interested in him but he was in you and that's it. Your opinion didn't matter. He was popular and you wanted to have good reputation so you allowed him to do... whatever.

Miss Williams showed you two papers. One was yours, the other... based on the handwriting - Luke's.

"Look at the signatures." She ordered. "How did it happen? No bullshit."

They were swapped. Luke's work, graded for a D, had your name on it.

"That's an interesting word to use for a teacher. Umm... Yeah, I don't..." You started stuttering, not knowing what to say. You often helped him out but not this time.

"Just admit you helped him and I'll give you your A. Easy as that." She finally looked up at you. Her glasses reflected the light in a way that made it hard to look her in the eyes, so you wasn't able to tell what she's thinking. Was she judging you or are you just paranoid?

"I told him to give you my assignment since he was staying in your class longer, I swear, I didn't-" You sighed. "He had to... How could he..." You continued mumbling.

"Sh, shh... I can tell it's your handwriting. I just thought you did it on purpose." She said in a reassuring voice.

"Will he have any problems? It's not a big deal, so if we could just..." You looked at her with your doe eyes, nervously biting your bottom lip. The way she was looking at you made you understand why were the other students all over her. You took a deep breath, trying to gather your mind, embarrased you even thought about her in a... romantic... way.

"Okay, my dear. Here's your well earned A." She showed you a new copy of the assignment with an A grade written at the top. You also notice her fingers slightly grazing your hand as she does so. the same fingers you used to imagine touching you in such an intimate way "Now, if it's not a big secret, why are you even worried about Luke? For him, a better grade is more important than you. But if you really like him, I may group you both together in the next presentation."

"No, I don't, it's not that..." You quickly explained. "It's just... I don't even know. He's just everywhere I go."

You could tell something was off when Miss Williams mentioned Luke. She never did speak poorly about any of your classmates, not even once - it's simply unprofessional. But, this time, she seemed irritated, perhaps even annoyed.

"I'm glad to hear that, he's no good for you. He obviously wants more than an assignment swap." She put all of the papers back into her file. Suddenly, she leaned in towards you. Not too close, but way closer than she was before. "You look nervous."

"I am." You admitted quietly. Your heart starts beating fast. She's never been this close before. You both met after classes before and she was friendly, sure, but never this... interested. She made it to the point you didn't saw her as a professor anymore, just a woman, maybe even potential... girlfriend.

"I can help you with that stress if you'd like." She says, her voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn't resist her. She leans in closer, until your faces are so close together that your breaths become one and if it wasn't for the desk, your bodies would be pressed together. The moment she touches your cheek, you can't resist anymore and kiss her back. She takes your hands and presses them against the back of her head, pulling you closer as she deepen the kiss.

You never felt this way before. This doesn't feel wrong, it's... exciting. She's exciting.

You hear a faint sound from outside. Someone trying to open the door.

Miss Williams quickly straightens up: she straightens her clothes, fixes her hair, and picks up her papers. Then, with a deep breath, she answers the knock.

"Hello... Can I help you?" She opens the door.

It's Luke, standing there with a wide smile on his face.

"Luke? What are you doing here?" Your eyes flicked from Luke to the teacher and back again, not understanding what's happening.

"I just realized I forgot my bag at class today, so I dropped by to pick it up. But I see you have company." He looks at you and gives you a subtle wink.

"Oh, don't worry. I was just giving her assignment back an A. The A she deserves." She says with a nervous laugh.

"Yeah, exactly, Luke. I know you swapped our assignments." Your eyes lingered at him for longer this time, as you saw he knows something so you tried changing the topic to more formal one.

"I... uhh... no, I didn't do that." He replies nervously, his tone and body language giving him away.

Miss Williams looks at you with an expression that conveys "I can't believe this is happening."

You continue; "Look, Miss Williams found our assignments mixed up. Mine... with your D grade on it... and yours, with my A on it."

Luke shifts uncomfortably, realizing he's been found out. "Oh... well... I guess I'll just be on my way then." He says awkwardly.

"Just take your bag and go before I change my mind and not be so nice." Your teacher said, making eye contact with you instead of him.

Luke quickly grabs his bag and scurries away.

Miss Williams sighs and closes the door. "What a little... trouble maker." She says with a smile. She walks towards you and stands in front of you, facing you directly. "I hope he didn't bother you too much." She says softly, her tone carrying a slight flirty vibe.

You smile and shake your head, even though the truth is he did.

"You should go now, I don't want your parents worrying. Visit me here from time to time though, 'kay?" She smirks, stroking your hair.

"Yes, ma'am." You reply, trying to be playful but failing in your nervousness. "I will... umm... see you at class tomorrow."

"I'll be looking forward to it." She replies, a grin on her face as she stares deep into your eyes.

As you leave, you try to remain composed, but you're melting inside.

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youkissedareaderinthedark · 9 months

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Do it All

Synopsis: You are a Formula 1 driver trying to graduate from college. It’s hard to do it all, but the grid helps you do some of it

young female mercedes driver reader x 2033 F1 grid

(george is at williams with alex, logan is the reserve)

Education has always been something important to you. Your parents raised you to be a good student and that’s what you turned out to be. You were always one of the “smart kids” and didn’t mind going to school day after day, year after year. People usually get confused when you tell them this because you don’t meet many scholarly Formula 1 drivers, but here you are.

Your life was always split between racing and school; You remember doing homework sheets at karting tracks, writing essays between media duties in F2, and rushing through assigned readings in airports. It was stressful, but the work for each always paid off.

You’ve made your way through the Mercedes Junior Program, Formula 3, Formula 2, and was recruited in 2022 by Toto Wolff to race in Formula 1. You were 18 at the time, but too good an opportunity to pass up, so he offered you a three-year racing contract at Mercedes, starting in the 2023 season. You were over-the-moon excited about the opportunity, but it didn’t stop you from wondering about college.

You knew it wasn’t necessary, very few drivers went to university, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to attend. College had been in your vision for ages, you couldn’t just not go. The real problem was that Toto had approached you in August to race for Mercedes, and you had already gotten into your first-choice school and was days away from traveling there to set up your dorm.

You thought about your options. There was no way you could turn down Toto’s offer to join his F1 team, but there was also no way you go away to college and drive for Mercedes. One of your passions had to be pushed aside, and it wasn’t going to be racing.

So instead of traveling to your chosen college to settle into your dorm, you were traveling there to have various meetings about your future at that school.

After talking with the head of the university and a few professors, you compromised with the idea of online education. You would use online textbooks and the resources your professors posted onto the class’s website to complete all your assignments and participate in the lessons. You would be held to all the same expectations as the other students and would get your degree and diploma at the end of all of it, just not traditionally.

You agree that your schedule will be asynchronous (completely independent, you’ll make up your own schedule and do the work on your own time) to match your incoming lifestyle and discuss some other minor details. You leave what would’ve been your campus saddened and already a bit stressed, but nonetheless prepared.

You spent the rest of 2022 getting used to online school again and training on the sim to prepare for the day you leave for England. Because the Mercedes headquarters was in the UK, you were renting an apartment to call “home base” there with one of your friends that was attending a university in England.

You probably should’ve been more nervous on your first day at the office, but you weren’t. You’ve been in the junior program since you were 13, you’ve met Toto multiple times, and Lewis had been named your mentor long ago. Whenever you two were in the same country, he always made an effort to watch your races and help you improve in whatever ways he could.

You also were familiar with a couple of the drivers on the grid already. Despite the age gap, you had raced alongside Lando, George, Alex for years and had encountered Charles, Pierre, and Esteban a few times as well. You were in F2 with Oscar and Logan for a bit and formed a quick friendship with both of them. Because of these connections, by the Spanish Grand Prix, you were quite friendly with almost all 19 drivers.

And by the Spanish Grand Prix, almost all 19 drivers also knew that you were completely stressed about your schoolwork. They all knew you were a college student and had a lot of respect for you for it, especially during exam season. Even though you were majoring in mechanical engineering and were around cars almost every day, you were overwhelmed with anxiety.

It was impossible to ignore; if you walked into the Mercedes hospitality or garage, it wouldn’t be uncommon to see you sitting at a table, on a couch, or sitting in an empty hallway with your laptop in front of you and your focus captured. Your state of mind didn’t majorly affect your racing, you made sure of it, but it did affect your personality, and because they were your friends, the drivers decided to help you as much as possible.

Because Lewis is around you the most, he makes sure you’re taking proper care of yourself. When he finds you studying in your driver’s room or working in the hospitalty in between duties, he makes sure you’ve eaten and have a water bottle by your side. If you haven’t, he’ll run to buy your favorite snack and beverage for you and drop them off with a few words of encouragement.

Lando, George, and Alex make sure you don’t drown yourself with work. If everyone’s at home and they’re aware you’ve been working for a few hours, they’ll text you asking to join them in a video game as a stress reliever. They keep you occupied for a few hours and fill the time with updates about their own lives and their own friendly banter.

They worry about you when they have breaks from racing and don’t hear from you for days at a time, then return with tired eyes and a quiet persona. Sometimes they’ll facetime you and don’t hang up for hours to make sure you cook yourself a fresh meal and fall asleep at a decent time.

Oscar and Logan are the most common visitors to your driver’s room and hotel rooms, and they make sure you actually see the countries you travel to. They’ve showed up to your hotel room randomly a few times and just told you to hurry up and get ready.

These visits always end up with the three of you in a cool, new place where you’re free to talk as much as you want and laugh as loudly as you’d like. They don’t live in the UK with you but the three of you are together so often you barely even notice.

Charles, Pierre, and Esteban make sure you enjoy everything you’re doing. They know how stressful being a young rookie can be, and they can only imagine what you’re going through as a university student, and the three of them don’t want your young adult years to be filled with just work and stress.

They try to help you study; Charles quizzes you on different subjects, if you chose French as your language, Esteban would give you answers, and if you need a distraction, Pierre is by your side trying to make you laugh.

You’re a little more laid-back when you finally submit your exams, but you don’t completely relax until you know your scores. You get good marks on all of your tests and are relieved when you discover all your hard work has pulled off.

Lewis is the first person you tell, and he matches your excitement completely. When you burst into his driver’s room and tell him your results, he brings you into a hug and leaves a kiss on the top of your head. “I knew you could do it, Y/n, I’m so proud of you” Lewis is one of the few Formula 1 drivers that did attend college so he knows first-hand how difficult it can be.

George, Alex, and Lando are almost as relieved as you are when you tell them your grades. The three of them are glad to have their friend back and hope the year until your next final exams comes slowly.

Oscar and Logan take you out to celebrate the night you tell them. You guys walk around town with ice cream as a reward and go to an amusement park with the bright idea for you to “scream out your frustrations from the last few weeks” Surprisingly, it works and by the end of the night, you feel lighter than you have all semester.

The bottom-line is, the drivers care about you and can’t wait to see your smile again after every exam season.

a short little student reader fic because I love the concept, I’m just not too sure how to write it

hope you love it tho 🫶

#formula 1 #reader insert #driver reader #f1 grid x reader #student!reader #student!driver!reader #mercedes driver reader #f1 2023 grid x y/n #platonic f1 grid

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boiohboii · 10 months

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Comfort drabble (Charles Leclerc x university student! Reader)

N.B: this is a self indulging, short fic based on the news I had received today. WARNING: failing classes, crying, sobbing and not that well written fic. Charles could be a bit out of character i think? Not proof read.... it's just a hurt-comfort fic for my own sake tbh cause I just got my grades and I failed so yeah.... hope you like it

Entering his girlfriend's apartment, Charles called her name softly, hoping for a reply. Upon the silence he walked further into her home, reaching for her bedroom door.

Now he was aware that sometimes she just wants time to herself, he's aware that there comes moments where someone just doesn't have the energy to reply to someone. But this morning he felt knots in his stomach upon seeing no reply from her on his texts from the night before and when he called and received her voice mail he decided to go to hers.

The sight before him broke his heart, tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes were enough for someone to guess what y/n had been doing before falling asleep, but the trash can beside her bed on the floor and the box of tissues in her hold only confirmed that something is majorly wrong.

"Love."

With a low voice and soft tone, Charles slowly climed onto the bed beside her, moving her slowly till she was safely in his arms. With no response, he decided to investigate what was wrong.

Unlocking her phone Charles was met with her university's email inbox, scrolling down he finally saw what the issue was.

"Charles?" Her voice sounded hoarse and dry

"Hey love," locking her phone and tightening his hold on her "it's okay."

And with those four gentle words, Y/N felt her eyes burn with tears that quickly escaped onto her cheeks with sobs coming out of her tired throat.

"No, no," a tender hand in her hair "you're alright darling, you're alright."

"I'm sorry" her whimpers filled the room as she curled into herself

"It's okay my angle," soft lips on her forehead as the rough material of a tissue wipped her tears "take as much time as you want, I'm here"

An hour later, Y/N's cries had finally dies down to soft sobs and an occasional sniff with Charles' fingers massaging her scalp while the other hand holds her tightly to his chest.

"I know that words won't help and they won't make you feel any better, but I know how hard you have studied throughout the year, I saw you writing notes and listening over and over again to your lectures, I saw how you always explain things to your friends and you always send your notes to everyone," he whispered into her ear, kissing the crown on her head "failing 2 classes isn't the end of the world, it won't make you any less of a great person. I am not trying to make light of the situation or dismiss your feelings, but as a person who cares about you I am thanking the stars that you are alright, that you are safe and sound in my arms. And just as you had passes your other 8 classes this year, you will retake your finals and pass them as well. I know you will, cause you are you and no grade is going to define you.

I know it won't be easy to study everything again in the span of 2 months, but you can do it, I believe that you can cause I have seen what you constantly do everyday and someone who does half of what you do is always willing to try again and again," burying his face into her neck, his lips left a trail of butterfly kisses over her shoulder grounding her like a weighted blanked "I am so proud of you my darling, I always will be."

A warm hug, a kiss on the back of her hand and fingers running smoothly through her hair, YN felt safe and content surrounded by the warmth of her boyfriend. Maybe she had failed 2 of her 10 classes this year but she still had a second chance and she won't waste it.

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vagabond-umlaut · 1 year

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you: gojo senpai's chapstick tastes nice geto: you two finally kissed?! you: what? no! i respect senpai's personal bubble gojo, dejectedly: she ate it

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 8 months

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Can I request a story where larissa is working at in her office and hears someone stumbling around in the hallway only to come and find out it's one of her *18* students drunkenly stumbling around. She quickly goes over making sure shes ok and getting her back to her dorm. Y/n tells larissa that she wants to get her feelings out now because she knows she wont have the courage to do it sober, she tells larissa how beautiful she is and how she wishes to be hers. Larissa gets y/n into her dorm and puts her to bed. Y/n wakes up with a massive hangover but still remembers what happened the night before....

Please 😬❤🤗

Heyyy anon!! Thank you for your request! I would love to write this for you 💞 Hope you Enjoy ♥️

Drunken Courage ~Larissa Weems xFem Student!Reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: fluff, drinking, age gap (all legal), confessions of feelings, happy endings, etc.

Enjoy (;

You stumbled through the corridors, your vision blurry and your mind lost. You were trying to make it back to your dorm but every turned seemed to take you back to the same corridor from whence you came.

As you turned the next corner, you suddenly clashed into someone. You yelped and went falling. But delicate hands caught you, stopping you from your fall. You blinked and looked up, only to find Principal Weems to be holing you in her arms. Your throat went dry at the stunning sight above you.

“What are you doing out so late, Darling…?” The principal concerningly asked.

“I… um… principal…” you drunkenly stammered, trying to get a clear thought out.

“I could hear you all the way down the hall, love…” Ms Weems softly chided, “Come on, let’s get you to bed…”

The tall blonde led you to your dorm. You stumbled down the halls and Principal Weems was there to help you. She got you to your dorm and into bed. She tucked you in, but as she was about to leave you grabbed her wrist.

“Wait… Ms Weems…” you whispered.

Principal Weems turned her attention back to you.

“Darling…?”

“I… I won’t… I have to tell you… Or.. or…”

“What do you have to tell me?” She softly asked.

Your drinker eyes met her caring ones.

“You’re beautiful… And… I wish I was yours…” you whispered.

“Shhh, Darling, time to get some sleep…” Ms Weems cooed.

~~~

You woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and a massive hangover. You noticed that on your bedside table, there were two tablets of advil and a note, which read,

Please meet me in my office when you wake up, Darling.

-Larissa Weems

You gulped. You tried to remember what happened the night before. You remembered drinking far too much, even for a Friday night. And you remembered wandering the halls. And someone helping you…? But after that, everything went blank.

You sighed and got dressed. You made your way to the Principal’s office, knocked and entered. You sat down at the woman’s word. For some reason, you were extra anxious and couldn’t make eye contact with the blonde.

“Miss L/N, I’d like to talk to you about last night.”

You gulped and went red.

“I know, I’m sorry. I should have had that much to drink, I shouldn’t have been drinking at all. I apologize, and I understand if I need to be reprimanded.” You breathed out.

“That’s not what I wanted to discuss…” she gently spoke.

At This, you finally looked up at the blonde and met her gaze.

Now it all rushed back to you… Shit.

“Oh…” you whispered.

You immediately avoided her gaze again in embarrassment.

“Look at me, Love.”

You looked back up at the blonde principal.

“I’m humbled by your confession. But I do not think it wise to pursue anything as you are my student and I am your principal.” She explained.

“I understand…” you whispered.

“However… you graduate this year…”

Your eyes widened lightly at the woman’s hopeful tone.

“And if you’d be interested, I wouldn’t mind pursuing something once you are no longer a student here. Would you like that?”

You nodded vigorously.

“Very much so.”

“Excellent.” Larissa hummed.

~~~

Larissa Weems Masterlist

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa weems x you #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x female reader #larissa weems fluff #larissa weems fanfic #student reader #student!reader #wednsday addams #wednesday #wednesday smut #wednesday netflix #wednesday x reader

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iamgroot98 · 2 months

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That one student

!!!NOT MY GIF!!!

Paring: Professor!Spencer Reid x Student!Reader

Y/N had just gotten ready for the day. Grabbing her books and bag, she walks out with Amanda, talking about their professor, Reid. "Oh my god! How could you not think he's hot!?" Amanda asked very loudly.

"Because that would be gross. He's like 30, maybe 40. That is a big age gap." Y/N couldn't help but think that big age gaps are gross. "Uh! You are just being a nerd!" Amanda yelled; Y/N didn't pay any attention to her, though.

Y/N sat down and took her note books out when Professor Reid came in. "Okay! Let's take a moment now to discuss the difference between a trigger and a stressor." Professor Reid said this while walking around on the stage. While every girl (Minus Y/N) was smiling and twisting their hair with their hands, "A trigger is a sensory event experienced by an offender that precipitates subsequent behavior, whereas a stressors is a longer-term pattern of behavior or circumstances that push a person into behaving differently than they would normally." Y/N said because she knew this information.

Professor Reid just looked impressed, then looked at everyone else. To see they weren't writing it down. "You're probably going to want to write this down. I shouldn't be telling you guys this, but I'm definitely putting this on the final." Professor Reid said, while moving his hands to his hips, "I'm only auditing this class." Amanda said so very bluntly. "Is anyone else auditing this class?" he asked, and then every girl (except Y/N) raised their hands.

"Okay, unfortunately, that is all the time we have for today. Thank you, guys." While everyone else was getting up and leaving, Y/N was distracted with writing down her notes. About 5 minutes later, Y/N jumped when she heard a voice. "Y/n? Hey, what are you still doing here? I dismissed class about—" Professor Reid looked at his watch, then back to Y/N. "—Five minutes ago." Y/N sighed, "I'm so, so sorry, Professor Reid. I was writing down the notes, and I guess I got distracted. I'm really sorry, and now I'm rambling." Y/N said it at the end with a little laugh.

Then she started putting her stuff away while Professor Reid walked up to her. "So, are you really taking my class? Or are you just auditing this class?" This made Y/N look up with confusion on her face. "I'm taking this class; did Amanda say something? I swear to God I'm going to" Y/N was cut off, with Reid chuckling.

"No, no. It's just that almost every girl raised their hand when I asked if they were taking this class or auditing this class." Y/N sighed in relief and laughed a little. "I'm really sorry about all of this. Um, I should go. I have other classes. But I'll see you later today if the other classes aren't dismissed." "No, the classes aren't dismissed; I just need a moment. But thank you for asking. I'll see you later. Mrs Y/L/N." "Please call me Y/N. It feels weird being called that." Professor Reid nodded his head and moved out of Y/N's way.

When she got to the door, she turned around one last time and waved. He waved back, and Y/N walked out. What Y/N didn't know was that Spencer had a smile on his face, happy that someone was actually taking his class.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #fluff #student!reader #NO SMUTT

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tanith-rhea · 1 year

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Hey! i have a smuty request hehe

you're Larissa's roommate and one day when she entered your shared room she finds you masturbating moaning her name... and well I leave it in your hand how this develops

if you're not comfortable writing this or simply don't want to is absolutely okey!

Unexpected Finds

Author's note: I'm horrendously sorry for the amount of time this took me. If you stook around, you'll see your request is the first thing I wrote in a loooooong while. Word count: 2.9k

“You are horrible at this,” Riss murmured with a teasing smile.

“To be fair, I told you I was, and you doubted it,” her nails were longer than yours; it wasn’t difficult to keep yours manicured but Larissa had long, nicely shaped nails and you had no practice with those. “Why are you complaining anyway? You can simply make them look however you want!”

“Did I complain? I think I simply made a remark on your disastrous attempt at painting them, that’s all.”

“Ok, shush!” her rumbling chuckle quickly had you both laughing even though you tried your very best to look pissed and not charmed.

Larissa had the ability to make everything she did look incredibly alluring or adorable. Not just textbook hot things or her cute nose scrunches and fond smiles. But hearing her yawn at eleven pm while studying for an exam you knew she could give a lecture about; her rambling and muttering under her breath at how insufferable some people were; her rare fits of anger which she would try not to show but would turn her knuckles white and make her respond to every comment pissily. It was all endearing when it was her who did it.

“I’m just trying to support you in learning new skills,” she shrugged like it was the simplest of truths, and she wasn’t at all very amused by the entire situation.

“Thank you so much for sponsoring my personal growth,” you rolled your eyes but smiled. Her own smiling features turned softer, the slight mocking turning fond like it so often did lately. She had no idea the effect it had on you.

“Sadly, although I appreciate your interest in my learnings, I think we should sleep. I know you’ll blame me if you wake up late tomorrow and it’s almost midnight.”

Despite your tender feelings towards Larissa, you couldn’t help but be a little annoyed at the changes she helped you mature into. Two months ago, you’d have kept her awake and laughing until three AM, trying to make her forget tomorrow you had class and spend more time with you. Now, you knew how important Larissa’s routine was for her and just wanted to be good for her, even if it meant giving up on pitiful attempts at doing her make-up or being teased for looking “so cute” with puppy-eye eyeliner.

She hummed, moving the notebooks, nail polish and other miscellaneous mess from the bed to the floor.

“If you say so,” she smiled again, still fond, but there was something in her eyes like puzzlement and you had no idea what it meant. “Care to make space?”

You bit your lip to avoid smiling too much, before putting your hair over one shoulder and laying down so Larissa could make herself comfortable on your chest. It had become a habit ever since your first “girl’s night” when you woke up like this and found you both liked it well enough.

Of course, you had the suspicion you liked it far more than she did, being so hopelessly attracted to her, but that hardly changed anything. If she didn’t mind waking up nuzzling your neck, with her limbs all over you like an octopus, you wouldn’t be the one to complain.

“Sweet dreams, Riss,” you whispered, subconsciously turning off the light.

“Will have,” was all she mumbled, knowing not to wish you any dreams at all, and your heart skipped a beat at that like it always did.

You woke up feeling warm. The pleasant smell of the shared covers blossomed comfort and familiarity in your chest as you inhaled deeply.

Larissa’s warm soft skin was all around you. Her nose was buried in your neck, her parted lips ghosting over where it met your shoulder and breathing heat softly against it.

As usual, her limbs encased you in a trap you didn’t mind not escaping from. Her arm was slung over you, hand so close to your face that a turn of your head would have your cheek pressed on her elegant fingers. But one thing was different.

You didn’t sleep together often. In the trimester you’d been roommates, you had only five slumber parties, and only on the last four of them did you share a bed on purpose. And, as you weren’t one to move a lot while sleeping, the likelihood of you cuddling her was relatively small compared to the other way around. But this time, it appeared your body wanted closer proximity, and your leg had welcomed hers between yours, as your hand rested on the exposed skin of her lower back. Larissa seemed to be blessedly content to continue sleeping, but you couldn’t know if she’d wake up when you tried to disentangle yourself. You partially didn’t want to, but it would be horribly awkward if she came to feeling warm wetness on her knee.

You were robbed of a choice by her stirring awake with a long, content intake of breath. Panic ran through your veins while her muscles tensed in that particular way while she stretched, leg going stiff and tortuously pressing against you while she hummed in your neck.

“G’mornin,” she grumbled, laying on her stomach almost completely on top of you.

“Good morning, person who’s trying to turn me into a pancake,” you joked to diverge her attention. Did she not notice? Was this the universe having mercy on you?

Her rumbling laugh immediately against your chest hurt as if your lungs were filled with more air than they were capable of managing and you wished you could hug her, press her onto the bed and drown her in kisses.

“Hardly my fault when you’re more comfortable than the bed.”

“I sincerely doubt that.”

She chuckled, “You’ll have to trust my impeccable taste, I guess,” her still hoarse voice felt almost like velvet as she half-whispered, and you could feel the warmth of her breath on your neck, lingering for a second.

With her there, in that fraction of a moment, still, as if waiting, you wondered if you should do something. Was she expecting you to? You wanted to feel the warm skin underneath her pyjamas, hold her against you with purpose, splay your palm and fist her hair, and bring her up to you. You wanted to press your leg between hers as well, see if she’d have the same reaction, if she’d make a sound-

With a sharp inhale, Larissa got up on her elbow, looking at the pillow beside your head instead of your face and smiled sheepishly.

“Unfortunately, some of us chose lycanthrope history over vampiric, so I’ll have to leave my personal mattress and get ready,” she tilted her eyebrow, but still avoided eye contact, and you couldn’t help but frown.

“Not my fault they like to wake up early, maybe next semester you should consider joining me in night classes,” you winked, deciding to let it go and at least make Larissa laugh a little before leaving.

“I don’t think I’d be able to concentrate,” she smiled, though, and put some books in her backpack without really looking at them, “But I’ll consider astronomy for the sake of staying in bed longer.”

You could see her in astronomy class. For all Larissa’s attempts to look practical and cynical, you’ve learned just how much of a dreamer she was, an idealist, she’d fit right in with the precise wonder of it.

“…with me?” you half-joked, trying your best at an impish, non-expectant, smile.

“You wish,” was all she said, and disappeared behind her folding screen to change into her uniform. You watched as her pyjamas were draped over the division, the rattling of fabric gentle and allusive, making your mind wander until you almost didn’t notice her saying bye.

Being her roommate was the best thing to happen to you in Nevermore. It was also the most tortuous experience one could put you through. You were still aching from moments ago, the memory of Larissa’s clothes coming off behind the screen, the pressure of her body on yours. She must have known, it was near impossible she wouldn’t notice your dilated pupils and flushed skin. Maybe that was why she left without even doing her hair.

Fuck, her hair. She was out there with long waves down, possibly for the first time in her three years at Nevermore. How would it look in the wind? You knew how it looked over her shoulders, whiter than her skin but just as soft.

Your thigh muscles tightened. You could feel an all too incriminating pulsing between them. She wasn’t here to see… it wouldn’t hurt her. You had done it before with her in your mind, but never after moments like this, they felt so familiar that all you could feel when she left was the heartache of not having her. Today was different. Today she left and you felt the ache of not having her against you, not having trapped her underneath you and sought what you needed.

Your pathetic moan when you finally slid your fingers into your panties could have made you laugh, however, all you could feel were tears of relief running down your temple. Your fingers were immediately soaked, you couldn’t remember being this slick in a long time and would be impressed if it wasn’t so maddeningly frustrating.

You pictured her on top of you, her fingers instead of yours massaging your clit and teasing you under her breath. Planting kisses on your shoulders and neck, skirting around your breasts with a sharp smile and making you squirm in anticipation.

It hadn’t been five minutes and you could already feel your orgasm building. Hell if she’d stayed just a few seconds longer, if she had pressed just a little more, you were certain it would have happened then; with her breath on your neck and her warmth and her smell. You were so close just thinking about it- Larissa…

“Oh my-” The loud sound of your bedroom door being shut should have been an ice bucket, instead it only triggered desperation. You knew her voice, even in that high pitch you seldom heard. If she ran out or stayed in you had no idea, but you needed to finish.

The adrenaline of fear only pushing you through more insistently.

You were panting, whining, arching on your back and squirming as new tears escaped your closed eyelids. It was over, she’d never look at your face again and it made you desperate.

A sob almost choked you as you finally came with Larissa’s name pleadingly on your lips. Though what really did make you choke was a soft hand on your shaking knee.

You opened your eyes to see her standing right beside the bed. She had an unreadable expression on her face, but her firm touch was grounding while you came down from your high. She sat close to your waist, moving her hand to rest on your stomach while she examined you with a purposefully controlled demeanour.

“Larissa…” you whispered, squeezing your legs together as if you could hide what you’d been doing, what she saw you do.

Her eyes shot up to yours, gleaming but not bright as they normally were. You hovered your hand atop hers, wondering if she’d let you hold it; she reached up and interwove your fingers without a word, bringing them to her lips ad kissing each knuckle.

You squeezed your legs harder, torn between fear and hope. Why wasn’t she saying anything?

“Why are you back?”

That, at least, got a small huff and a smile out of her, “I packed your books instead of mine,” she said with a voice hoarser than when she woke up. “That’s what you get for leaving in a hurry,” her eyes travelled down from yours, taking in your rattled state once more.

With your hand still in hers, she pressed it on the side of your head and gracefully straddled your stomach.

What was she doing? It didn’t make any sense. You would have known if… if she-

"You tied your hair,” was all your short-circuiting brain could come up with.

You got the pleasure of hearing her chuckle with fond amusement in her eyes, which was unfair and ridiculous on many levels considering the warm spot currently pressed against your underbelly.

“Is this relevant?”

”It could be-” you gasped as Larissa let out a small whimpering sound, eyes closed while grinding down on your hip bone.

Your free hand grabbed her thigh in an instant, the uniform’s skirt being a practical clothing item for the first time, and moved your hip to help her along. She let out a strangled noise and you could see her belly coil under her shirt. That was unacceptable; here you were, in thin pyjamas, dishevelled and undone while she got to look like a school prefect.

You sat up, Larissa settling on your left thigh as you did so, and let go of her hand to grab her collar.

“Are you sure of what you’re doing?” you looked her seriously in the eyes, hoping you were masking your plea well enough.

“Does it look like I’m not?” she breathed.

You had to breathe deeply and close your eyes to avoid her smug smile. You bit your lip to conceal your own tugging at the corners of your mouth, then it occurred to you, there are other ways one can hide. Larissa’s half-choked surprise at your lips and teeth on her neck made not smiling quite difficult.

While you helped Larissa ride your thigh with a steady hand on her hip, your other hand unbuttoned her shirt. She had a death grip on your right shoulder while her other arm rested around them, trapping you close to her. When you dealt with all the buttons, her unhappy whine from having to let you go made your heart race. Did she have any idea what she was doing to you?

“Shh, love, you’ll like it better like this,” you whispered, taking off your own top as she held your knees for support.

You made quick work of her bra, but once it came off you had to take a moment to appreciate how astonishingly beautiful she was. White, creamy skin, so hot it could melt all your thoughts away, beautiful full breasts with the rosiest, most charming nipples you’d ever seen. You wanted to look at her for the rest of your life.

Fuck, she’s gonna kill me.

Your hands splayed on her back and shoulder blades as you buried your face in her chest, kissing and sucking a bruise at the base of her sternum. You could feel her goosebumps under your tongue as you kissed your way to her left nipple, warm soft skin smelling of fancy lotion.

Larissa’s fingers wove into your hair and closed into a fist, locking your right where she wanted you to be.

The sounds she was making were becoming more and more breathless as her grinding grew erratic against you. She pulled you up into a searing and messy kiss that should have felt horrible but only made you burn with need, and when she gasped, muscles incredibly tight under your palms, you wanted nothing but to swallow every broken little guff of air as your pyjamas got impossibly wetter.

When her shoulders slumped and her weight fell on you, you could only hug her.

Pyjamas be damned, you could deal with it later. She breathed slowly and deeply on the crook of your neck as you traced soothingly up and down her back.

“I know you have class soon but I just want to stay in bed,” her voice had the quality of midnight half-sleepy rants and you hugged her tight.

“You also have class.”

She stayed silent for a beat, ”We have thirty minutes til the next one.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “I take longer to look presentable, not everyone is magically perfect-”

“Not magic,” she interrupted, “…and you pull off the ‘I didn’t even try’ look annoyingly well.”

”Oh, do I?” she left your shoulder as you laughed lightly.

She looked exasperated — almost hurt, not looking at your face — and you wanted to change that immediately “If you don’t want to stay, fine-”

“I was just teasing you,” you hushed to say and tentatively touched her chin, making her face you, “I want nothing more than to stay the entire day in this bed with you. I could spend a week if we lived in a perfect world,” you kissed her chastely, hand cupping her cheek, and as you parted her eyebrow were knit together.

“So this isn’t just a…” she paused, looking down between you and back up, eyes gleaming with the stubborn determination you loved so much, “This isn’t just a product of decisions took in ‘the heat of the moment’?”

You gave pause for a second as well. If she was asking, maybe… “Is it to you?”

“No,” she said emphatically.

“Then no. I’d like to be your girlfriend if you’d like that. She only nodded and gave you a timid half-smile, you smiled back and laid down, dragging her with you. You could spend some more minutes like this.

I guess this one turned out ok, I'm sorry if it didn't, just very sparse minded lately <3

#larissa weems #student!larissa #student!reader #larissa weems x reader #female reader #fluff #fluff and smut #smutty smut #caught masterbating #answered request

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loveliestlovelygirl · 1 month

Text

tangle of strings

pianoteacher!anakin x student!reader

synopsis: mr. skywalker has been your piano instructor since you were fourteen years old. from the moment you met, you knew he was the one. he never expressed his feelings for you vocally, despite all the time you spent together. but after you turn eighteen and prepare to leave for college, he changes his tune.

w.c: 6.9k

warnings!! {minors dni}, dark content, grooming heavily featured, sexual content occurs after the reader is 18, p in v, fingering, oral, fem!reader, gentle dom!anakin, sub!reader, "loss" of virginity, jealousy, religious themes

the content you consume is your responsibility ♡

The piano is the only thing Mr. Skywalker told you that he loved.

He was never spotted with a girl or anyone for that matter in a romantic sense. He was always single, which never made sense to anyone in your small town because he is handsome. He’s always been handsome. His yearbook pictures from high school proved it.

When you would go over to his house for piano lessons, he would show you many things from his life, like his award cabinet, filled with every trophy and certificate he’s won from piano competitions or his yearbook photos. Those photos were one of the first things he showed you. It was one of your first memories of just you and him.

Mr. Skywalker takes a big stack of books off the shelf in his library all at once. Using his strength to balance the dusty books on his arms, he brings them to the reading table where you sit. He takes off the top one and opens it up before you.

Eventually, you find his picture. You cover your mouth as you giggle. He had thick glasses making him look like a nerd. But he was cute. So, undeniably cute to you. You wish he could be the same age. You would want to be his friend. You would want to kiss him.

If you were the same age, he could be yours.

“I wasn’t always like this,” he muses, his large body looming behind you as he looks over your head to gaze at the picture. “I used to be the kid everyone picked on. When I’d get home, I would write a song about how I was feeling. Some of those songs inspired the ones I play at my shows.”

When he talks, you gush. His warm voice is safe. He’s the kind of person you could tell all your secrets to.

And you did tell him everything you couldn’t tell your parents. You’d tell him your deepest secrets. Like the boys you crushed on. Or your new feelings of lust towards them that caught you off-guard as a teen. He understood you like no one else in the whole world. He was the first to know about your first kiss when you were sixteen. And he seemed… jealous when you told him.

“I don’t know how it happened,” you say. “One moment, we were talking and laughing. And the next thing I know, Drew is pushing me down on the bed to kiss me!” you squeal. “But don’t tell my parents. They’ll think I’m a whore.”

Mr. Skywalker pats your shoulder. “Don’t worry. I always keep your secrets. Drew is the boy in your history class, correct?”

You nod, amazed that he would remember. The last time you spoke of Drew had been several months ago. But he always pays attention to even the smallest details. That’s how you know he cares.

“I don’t know if he’s good for you,” he mutters, noticeably bitter about something. “Does he really know you? I think… he doesn’t. He’s probably just trying to use you.”

Mr. Skywalker is much older than you. And wiser. So you take his advice to heart. Maybe you shouldn’t see Drew tonight after all.

“How many times have you been kissed?” you ask him, your voice all innocent. Although your motives were anything but pure. While you might have just shared a kiss with Drew, there is one man who is truly the object of your greatest desires. You just haven’t found a way to tell him.

He shakes his head. “You know I’d rather talk about you.” That’s what he says when you pry too deeply into his private life, which only adds to your secret obsession

Anakin has always been the one thing that rivals your obsession with your instrument of choice. And it’s the only secret you kept from him all through high school because you knew he couldn’t possibly feel the same way about you.

Even if the small touches, the secret looks, and long hugs seemed to indicate otherwise. You were too afraid to ask him what it all meant. He never gave that kind of attention to anyone else.

And as an awkward teen, you were furious that you couldn’t express your love to him directly. You kept telling yourself that you would when you’re older. When you turned eighteen, you would confess to him.

Since you couldn’t tell anyone, even him, about this secret, you’d use the piano to share your soul, to put your feelings out into the atmosphere. When you play, no matter where you are, you feel him sitting on the bench beside you, watching over you.

He taught you everything you know now. He’s the reason you chose to major in Piano Performance in college to the great horror of your parents. But what did they expect? They watched you sacrifice your youth for excellence in your craft. The nights were filled with pools of tears, cries, and screams as you played until you got the part, section, or note just right.

When your fingers rest on the ivory keys, you feel him and nothing else. He’s your muse in every song you write.

The piece that won you a full scholarship to your dream university, you wrote it while thinking of Anakin. Your beloved piano teacher. Your closest friend. Your secret love.

He’d been in your life for so long, giving you lessons when you first showed an interest in music. How could you not love him?

He went to the same church that your family attended every Sunday. He played piano sometimes during worship service if the music minister was out on vacation or fell ill. Church was how your father met him, and they became good friends. He often came to your Sunday lunches.

Your mom always cooked fried catfish or fried chicken because that’s what your dad wanted. Mr. Skywalker, as you called him back in your high school years, would eat two plates of food. He’d say things like “I haven’t had a home cooked meal in years,” even if he was at your house just last week. You would laugh the loudest at his jokes. As you think about them now, you realize they weren’t funny, but you’re in love with him so it doesn’t matter.

After lunch, your parents would take care of the food and dishes, giving alone time with him. Like a young pup, you’d follow him outside on the back porch where you’d sit side by side on the creaky old swing.

“Do you cook or bake?” he asks you.

You haven’t the slightest idea of why he’d ask such a thing. You still lived with your parents. Your mom does most of the cooking. Your dad grills sometimes. “No. I get scared that I’ll burn myself.”

Suddenly, he reaches over for your left hand, the closest one to him, from your lap and holds it between his great palms. “Cold,” he whispers. He massages your fingers to revive them. “I wouldn’t want you to burn your hands. They’re so perfect… for playing.”

Anakin looks down at what he’s doing to you and his expression sours. At the time, you don’t know why. You wonder if you said or did something he doesn’t like because the mood changes instantly. He drops your hand and pats your thigh.

“You have piano hands, remember?” he reminds you. He smiles at you, and you feel secure again.

That’s exactly the thing that you always tell him. His hands spread out further than a whole octave, while you struggle to hit the two octave notes simultaneously without pulling a muscle. His fingers are long, and his palms are wide. You can’t compete with that.

You wonder what other things he’s good at with hands like those.

For the entirety of your high school existence, you pined and pined after him. He was always on your thoughts every minute of every day. You never grew sick of daydreaming about him. And on occasion that was reflected in your grades though you maintained a high GPA regardless. Every week was just your going through the motions of life mindlessly, only waiting for two short hours out of the week on Friday which was when you took lessons with him.

You lived solely for those two hours in which he gave you piano lessons free of charge. He said it was because you had such potential, but still to this day, you like to think he reciprocated some of your feelings even before he actually made a move on you.

For those two hours, you would sit right up against him on the leather cushion of the piano bench and play for him whatever pieces you were working on or things he assigned you from the previous week. He was never harsh with you even when you weren’t getting something.

You throw your hands on the keys, striking a dissonant chord that makes you both wince. Mr. Skywalker instantly pulls your hands away.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he said with concern. “I promise you’ll get this. It just takes time. I know you practice too much as it is.”

“I want to be good! I want to be a star!” With that, you break down instantly and cry. He never minds when you cry in front of him.

“One day, you will be. I believe in you,” he soothes you, rubbing your back and kissing the top of your head as if you belong to him. He hugs you. “We can try again when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” you say, leaning against him to hear the echo of his heart. His heartbeat is sensual to you, even at sixteen. You can’t explain it. These stupid hormonal feelings you have for him are so wrong. But when you look up into his passionate eyes, you see the man you want to spend the rest of your life with. You have to marry him. You have to.

From the time you were five, you were afraid of thunder and lightning. Terrified by it actually. The fear is still with you today. But it was so much worse in middle school and high school. You started taking lessons from Anakin when you were fourteen years old. And you were still such a child then. You remembered the time it stormed so hard during your lesson that you had to spend the night at his house because it was too dangerous for your mother to come pick you up. But that also meant you couldn’t hide your abnormal fear of a thunderstorm from Anakin.

He had this giant plush rug under the piano. When you asked him about it, he said that it caught the sound. At the tail end of your lesson, the night you had to stay over, lightning struck close to his house and spooked you so much that you shrieked and slipped under the piano, curling up on that soft rug like a scared puppy.

Anakin was such a sweetheart because he followed you there.

“Hey,” he whispers, rubbing your back, “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

You cry into your arms, hiding your face. “I know! I know it’s stupid of me. I just—”

“It’s not stupid. We all have different fears.” After he says that, he lies on his back beside you. “But I won’t let the storm hurt you, okay. We can stay here all night.”

And that you did. You cowered under the grand piano in his parlor all night long. That was the first time you ever cuddled with a boy, only he was a man almost twice your age. But that didn’t bother you. And it seemed not to bother him. He let you hold onto him through the night and squeeze him a little harder when you heard thunder. It has been one of your most precious memories of your piano teacher.

You had always known Anakin could be a little jealous. Any time you would mention your school friends the air would get tense, as if he didn’t want you to have anyone else in your life but him. He never said that, but he didn’t have to. There was always rage somewhere beneath the still blueness of his eyes, but his rage was never directed towards you until you told him that Drew wanted you to be his girlfriend.

You were seventeen. And you were so excited to have your first boyfriend even if you weren’t in love with him. At least people might not tease you for still being a virgin because it wouldn’t be so obvious. Anakin never did make fun of you for your innocence. He always said that it’s okay to wait until you’re ready or for the right person.

Immediately after you share the news of your official relationship with Drew, he freezes and closes the lid to the piano keys.

His jaw is tight. His voice is tense. “Maybe... we should be done for today.” He doesn’t even acknowledge what you said, as if he’s afraid to.

But you have no one else to celebrate with. Drew is a secret you keep from them because he’s not involved in church. “Did you hear me?” you press.

He grinds his teeth hard, and you hear bone against bone. Anakin nods. “I did.”

You nudge his arm. “Well?”

“Well what?” he snaps bitterly. He turns slightly to glare at you. “You know how I feel ab—about him.”

You roll your eyes. Anakin is a dramatic guy sometimes. “Drew isn’t that bad. He can be sweet. And he’s going to take me to prom!”

Anakin rises off the piano bench and pats down his black slacks. “So, you don’t care what I think then?” He’s staring down upon you with overwhelming disapproval. The muscles of his arms bulge when he crosses them over his chest.

Palms against the leather cushion, you hold yourself up. You notice yourself trembling when you realize that he’s not teasing you. He’s very upset... with you. Why would he be—does this mean—does he feel something after all?

“Of course, I do, Mr. Skywalker.”

“I told you not to get close with him!” he shouts. You’ve never heard him raise his voice at you. “He has bad intentions. He’s just a dumb kid. What does he know about loving you?”

You start to sob. “I’m sorry. I thought you might be... happy for me?”

He scoffs. And it sounds like you disgust him right now. “I don’t want to hear about him ever again. I don’t want to know anything about your little boyfriend. Do. You. Understand?”

Having him speak to you that way made you feel like a little girl. And you hated that feeling more than anything else. You knew that you were innocent, and you hated yourself for it because it made you feel inadequate to love the man you really wanted.

But now you’d do anything to have that innocence again. You didn’t realize at the time how free you once were. Growing up was harder than you thought it would be. It almost broke you.

You were lucky to have someone like Anakin to build you back up again, even if he was the one that tore you down that time.

After he yelled at you, you rushed out of his home as quickly as you could. The silence lasted a day. And then he drove to your house and knocked on your door. He held in his hands a bouquet of white roses and on his lips was the apology you were waiting for.

Nothing changed between you after that. Until your next birthday came around.

Up to your eighteenth birthday, your interactions were mostly harmless. But when you turned eighteen, an official adult, the tension between you had changed. The energies you both entertained shifted and became... dare you say... sexual to a degree. Anakin seemed to treat you a little differently now that you were fair game.

To celebrate your eighteenth birthday, he was there. In fact, he was the only one you insisted that mother invite. Not Drew or any of your school friends. Just Anakin. And he had to be there because he really was your one true friend. You couldn’t imagine celebrating your birthday without him. He was always a guest at your birthday parties, but he gave you a special gift this year, one so unforgettable that sometimes you hear it clear as day.

Anakin wrote you a piano solo. One that was simple, sweet, and addicting. You told him to play it again and again. After cake and presents, you made him teach you how to play it. You were very proficient now, and often could play things just by hearing them once. But the chords he chose for your song were unique and shouldn’t have meshed so well together. But they did. Just like you and him. Unlikely friends. Star-crossed lovers in your head.

The two of you stayed at the piano all evening, messing around with the song. By the end, you both had figured out how to layer the notes and chords in an even more perfect duet. Playing piano with him was almost the best birthday gift in the world to you. But it was not what you wished for.

You wished for a kiss.

But that would mean you’d have to tell him how you felt. And you were terrified. As an adult, now you could. It was more empowering than you thought it could be.

But you never did find a chance to tell me on your birthday. You were too afraid to ruin your night with a love confession. You know he would do the right thing and reject you, but that didn’t stop you from dreaming for the impossible.

When you walked him outside to his car—you insisted—your secret birthday wish came true. Not in the way you expected. But a kiss did happen. Your piano teacher kissed you on the cheek. Your face burned the whole night through. You couldn’t sleep because you wanted to know what it meant. He had never used his lips to touch any part of you before.

Physical contact had always been an important part of your bond with Anakin since the beginning. There were always the hugs that lasted just a little too long. And he seemed to always find an excuse to hold your hand. But he was your piano teacher, and the hand-to-hand contact always felt necessary and never strange.

But following your very special birthday, you found him staring at you a little longer, a little more deeply, and he seemed to always find an excuse to touch you, not in a sexual way but in a way that led you to believe the attraction wasn’t one sided.

He’d tuck your hair behind your ears, brush the side of your arm, and sit impossibly close to you that you swore you could almost hear his heartbeat. Anakin had never been hesitant to touch you before, but if there were any boundaries before, they were forgotten by him. And you enjoyed it. His new attention made you feel special and wanted. And that was all you ever wanted.

You began to touch him too. And seek physical attention from him. You would nuzzle his arm. Slip your fingers between his. Tap your shoes against his. He’d always notice, and he always hugged you or kissed your cheek in response.

You two were getting closer than ever before. Sometimes... you would barely touch the keys, getting lost in conversation. At this point, Drew and any other boy you were interested in before might as well have been dead. There was only room in your heart for Anakin.

And you had discovered a way to tell him without using your fragile words.

You sit on the bench waiting for him to get off the phone with his mother. She called him shortly after he let you in. About ten minutes later, he comes back.

“Sorry. I was worried she was in trouble,” he says, taking his spot beside you. “Now, where were we last week?”

“We... didn’t really go over anything.”

He bites into his full lower lip with a mischievous look in his eyes. “What are you paying me for then?”

You laugh because you’ve never once paid him for his time. You nudge his thigh with yours. “Honestly, I don’t really think there’s much more you could teach me.”

He raises a brow. “Oh really?”

You nod. “Actually, I’ve been writing something for you.”

His jaw lowers, and his mouth hangs open slightly. “How long have you kept this secret?”

“Since my birthday.”

He slips his arm around your back and rests his hand on your hip. “I’m impressed. Show me?”

You gulp heavily. That had been the plan today. It is ready for him. He’d never judge you even if it were bad. But you know that it’s not. You know that he’ll know what this piece means. He knows you too well. He’s too perceptive of everything. You wrote it in his favorite key, C minor.

With your hands a little shaky, your fingers glide softly across the piano and press down powerfully in chords. Through music, you profess your love. Anakin sits beside you and waits for you to finish. When you do, he’s waiting, staring with tears thickening his dark eyelashes. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t say anything, but you know... he knows how you feel.

You tug on his shirt, drawing him closer. A war of heart and mind reflects on his face. He’s doubting what he wants. His resistance is half-hearted. It isn’t long before he scoops you up in his arms and kisses you. This time his mouth is on your lips, wetting them, and tugging them apart to fill you with his tongue.

Drew was never this good. His mouth was sloppy and tight. Anakin kisses like he’s done this a thousand times before. And he kisses like he wants you. Like he’s wanted you for such a long time, despite how wrong you both know that is.

He holds you down in his lap, and you hug him tightly, carding your fingers through his dreamy hair. You start to feel lightheaded because you haven’t been able to breathe, but you don’t want to stop him. If you stop him, he might think and realize that he doesn’t want you anymore.

But you’re dying. Turning blue. You tap his shoulder. And he stops devouring you. His lips sparkle when he smiles. “Too much for you, baby?”

You sharply inhale, finally catching your breath. You shake your head. You want more. You need it. More isn’t even enough.

You spend the whole lesson entangled with one another until your mother comes to pick you up.

For the next month, that’s all you did. Kiss and kiss and kiss. Breathe and breathe and breathe. And kiss some more. You wondered why he was waiting to take you to his bed. You wanted that with him, but he never asked you to go that far. He seemed afraid. Even when his affection was overflowing in passion as you always knew it would be, it was clear that he was holding himself back. Did he need you to tell him what to do?

Your make out sessions extended beyond just your lesson time. Whenever he would come over to your house, he would go upstairs with you to your bedroom, and you’d end up tangled in the sheets. Though with every item of clothing on. Your parents never suspected anything was happening to their young, virtuous daughter. They trusted him completely. And so did you. You would have done anything he asked of you no matter the risks.

Even at church, he’d find a way to get you alone. In the girl’s bathroom. During the preacher’s sermon.

Anakin lifts you onto the sink and spreads your legs out so that he can fit between them and get close to you. Thumb under your chin, he tilts your face up to his. He grins before going in for a kiss.

Your lavender baby doll dress rides up your thighs as he inches closer. He presses up against the crotch of your panties. The dampness is cold against your tender flesh. His erection only grows as the friction between you builds, your bodies rubbing against each other in a clothed attempt to satisfy yourselves sexually.

And now you’re glad you waited and didn’t mess around with Drew like he wanted when you were together. Because that means Anakin could be your very first.

He freezes up when you try to unbuckle his big belt. Anakin looks at you strangely, almost disturbed by your actions.

You lean to his ear and whisper, “I. Want. It.” You had thought your seductive voice would be enough to cast him off the edge of all hesitation, that he’d bend to your will and give you what you want.

But all you did was kill the fire.

Head shaking, he backs away. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

And you didn’t see him for nearly a month after that. But you don’t regret what you said. You were tired of just endless make out sessions. It seemed so immature, and you knew you were ready for something real.

All of those memories, those beautiful capsules of your favorite times with Anakin, are the reason you find yourself on his doorstep, a quarter till midnight in the pouring rain.

Complete desperation.

You took your moms car without permission just to drive over despite the threat of a storm. And you’re still deathly afraid of them. But you came anyway. Because tomorrow, you’re leaving for college. You might not get another chance to fix things. Death would be better than living another moment without him.

��You haven’t been answering my texts or my calls, Anakin.”

The door is barely cracked open, just enough that you can see his pale face. Dark circles surround his rainy eyes.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, not even making eye contact.

Thunder echoes behind you. The wind blows your hair around. Leaves rustle, filling the silence between you both. It’s going to storm soon. You had been stupid enough to drive to his house just before a storm. But you couldn’t take not knowing what had happened to him and why he was dodging your calls.

The eyes that used to linger a little too long won’t acknowledge you even as you stand in front of him.

“Why are you being like this? This isn’t you!” you nearly scream. You’re so afraid that he’s not only pushing you away but also ejecting you from his life completely, as if the memories you share can be erased. He’s engrained in almost every memory you have.

“It can’t happen. Go away.”

He tries to close the door on you, but you stick the toe of your right shoe in the crack before it shuts.

“Please… please don’t do this.”

Anakin’s eyes are bloodshot as if he’s been crying. “What I want isn’t right. I can’t do it. I don’t know if I could live with myself after.”

Does he really hate me so much? Is that the truth? Perhaps it’s your naivety, but you won’t let him go so easily. You have suffered in silence for nearly a decade, pining after him, waiting for him to reciprocate the depth of your feelings. Your hands shake as you reach out to him. If he would just… hold your hand like he used to, then maybe everything would be alright.

Your fingertips brush against each other. You feel the spark instantly, and it travels down your spine, leaving you wanting to touch him more.

“What about what I want?”

Anakin blinks several times before he speaks. It’s as if he didn’t consider your feelings in this decision. “You’re… not in a position to see things clearly. You’re—”

“Don’t say it!” you exclaim, squeezing your fists. “I’m not a child. I’m all grown up. And you know it. You see it.”

Anakin sighs a long time, his eyes scanning down your body. “Of course, I see it. But that doesn’t make it okay.”

Though you can never overpower him, you still try to force the door open. “Just let me in. We can talk. Just let me talk to you.”

Anakin’s frown is firm, and his stillness enforces that he’s not backing down. “I don’t know. If I let you in… if you cry… I’ll want to hold you. Then things might happen. I don’t know if I can control myself around you.”

Hugging yourself, you gaze upwards, into eyes that finally meet yours. His eyes reveal his mourning, his grief, his lust. It’s the latter that sends shivers through your body. The knowing that he wants you is more than you can take.

“I don’t want you to.”

There.

You said it.

You have told him exactly what you want. And if you hadn’t made it painfully obvious before, he knows now that you’re no longer thinking like a little girl.

Following a sigh of defeat, he backs away from the door, and you move in.

All the lights are off in his home. He must have been sitting in the dark like a vampire. The piano lid is open. He never left it open unless he was actively playing.

Anakin strides across the room to seat himself on the piano bench. He taps the spot next to him. “You’re right.... We should talk. Talk. Nothing more.”

Sitting beside him here feels like the most natural thing in the world. Here, you’re not afraid to speak from the heart. He’d never judge you even if he disagrees. But you’re not so sure he disagrees this time.

He wants you too.

“I couldn’t let you go back. I can’t believe you drove in the rain.”

You shrug. “It’s just rain. The storm hasn’t—”

The windows flash like they would in a horror flick, and thunder comes after. With a whimper, you grab onto his arm.

“I can drive you back home once we talk,” he says emotionlessly, gently pulling you off him.

But you double down and grab his arm, tugging him back again. “Don’t push me away.”

He doesn’t do it again. He stills. And sighs. “That’s the last thing that I want to do.”

With your chin resting on his sleeve, you look up at him, wide-eyed. “Just kiss me like you always do. And don’t think about it.” You stretch your arm out and fiddle with the top button of his dress shirt. “I’m not thinking.”

His chest rises and falls with his breaths. He doesn’t stop you as you unbutton his shirt.

When you rise on your knees, you’re at eye level. He’s so much bigger than you even now. He makes you feel so small. Holding onto his arm, you lean close and peck his clean-shaven cheek. He winces as if you pricked him with a needle.

“Angel, I shouldn’t.”

You kiss him again, closer to his lips, almost tasting him. “It’s me. Don’t you want me?”

Finally, he turns and looks in your eyes. Then at your mouth. “Don’t tell anyone. You... understand how this might look. What they might say about—”

“I’m good at keeping secrets,” you whisper. “What’s one more?”

You finish unbuttoning his shirt for him. Taking care of him feels good. You run your fingertips down his chest and his abdomen. His bare skin. It’s soft and warm. Suddenly, he grabs your wrist.

“Cold hands,” he murmurs. He takes your hands between them. He rubs his hands over your fast to warm them with friction.

“Sorry.”

Still rubbing your hands, he stands and leads you to the back of his grand piano near the flashing window.

Any other time, you would be trembling in fear because of the loud storm, but tonight you’re trembling because of the new feelings bubbling inside you. You’ve never been so aroused before.

“Can I hold you?” he says as pulls you into his embrace.

You can hear his steady heartbeat and feel it pumping right against your sensitive ear. Your piano teacher holds you against him and tangles his talented fingers in your hair. He sniffs your neck before taking a bite. His teeth pinch your flesh, and his tongue soothes you. The pain he leaves in several spots along your neck means that he’s marked you as his.

Your own heart is racing at lightning speed. You can’t think. In his arms, you’re helpless to his whims. You need him to tell you what to do. All you want is to please him.

“I’ll do anything,” you whisper to him so weakly you question if he hears you.

Anakin slowly unzips the back of your dress. “Consider this a teaching moment.” His voice doesn’t sound like it usually does. The undertones are sultry and possessive. “I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to—” He stops to pull down your dress, and his eyes wander over your pretty body. You wore transparent lace underwear and a matching bralette. He can see everything you hide from the rest of the world.

And he tells you, “You’re perfection.”

That makes you want to kiss him so badly. You try to lift yourself to reach his lips, but he’s too tall.

“Be patient,” he chides. “I want you to lay down first.” He guides you under the piano.

You lie down on your back atop the giant rug. Instantly, relaxation takes over as you remember all the times you used to lie here with him, hiding from the storm. Never did you think this would be the place where you’d give yourself to him. This must be meant to be.

He follows you after fully undressing. His body is every inch a man’s. His size makes you feel so small. He runs the risk of crushing you with his weight.

Lying on his side, he looks down at you, watching his own fingers running under the elastic of your lacy panties. “Take these off and spread your legs.” He whispers kisses to your cheek. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

Nodding, you do as you’re told and wiggle out of your underwear. He snatches them from you and crunches them in his hands before throwing them over his shoulder. You proceed with fanning your legs open. The air is frigid as it touches you.

Anakin is looking where no one else has. “I’m so proud of you for waiting. Saving yourself just for me.”

You gasp as he kisses you between your legs. He kisses you there for a long time. It feels strange and wonderful. The feeling building inside you makes you moan and your toes curl. You feel so good your body aches. You hear your own heartbeat. You breathe but can’t find relief. Nothing soothes the need inside you but his mouth, his lips, his tongue. And before long you hit the breaking point, pleasure storming through your body from your place beneath him. Your cries are dampened by the thunderous sounds outside, but he hears you. He stops to look at your face. Making eye contact with him heightens the vulnerability of the situation. The intense way he looks at you burns. He notices every little change in your expression.

Anakin knows he made you feel good, but he still asks, “Did you like that?” He brushes the wild strands of hair away from your face. You know you’re precious to him. He sweetly kisses your forehead. “I like your taste.”

Your cheeks are seared by that comment. You cover your eyes, not wanting to let him see how he’s affecting you. “I did like it.”

“Do you want to do more?” He kisses your lips this time, and you taste yourself. “I don’t want to push you if you’re not ready.”

“I am ready!” you lift your head up and cup his cheek. “Don’t make me wait longer. I’m leaving tomorrow.” You bite your lip, knowing how dangerous what you’re about to say is because of who you’re saying it to. “Do you really want some college guy to be the one who gets me first?”

As if trying to reject the image you gave his mind, he closes his eyes and tightens his jaw. “No,” is his short answer. From the way his lips are pressed together, you know he wants to say more, but he’s saving you from his own selfish anger.

“Me either.” You rub his cheek with your thumb. “Anakin,” it feels right to call him by his first name instead of Mr. Skywalker, “I’ve waited for you. I always knew this would happen.”

He chuckles lightly. “I never gave you permission to use my name. Don’t forget—” he grunts as he slides two of his fingers between your slick folds and pushes them inside, “your manners, young one.”

These same fingers were the ones that rested atop yours when you were first learning to play piano. They pointed to the right key when you played the wrong note. They pointed to the sheet music to guide you along for all these years. They held your hands when they were cold.

And now he’s using them to teach you something new. But he’s just as skilled at fingering you as he is with music. You’re like his new instrument. He’s plucking all the right strings in just the right way to make you cry out for him. With your body pliant, he controls when you come. He doesn’t make you wait for it. He uses his thumb too and nudges until you come. It’s wetter than the last. And he instructs you to lick his fingers off when he’s done.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks again. “Don’t hate me for asking.” He hangs his head a little.

What he doesn’t understand is how insatiable he’s caused you to be. There were so many times you thought you might explode from how desperately you wanted him. But now it’s okay if that does happen.

“Keep going. Please,” you beg. You’re not ready to stop. You’ve waited for this moment since you were fourteen years old. If it were up to you, you’d live here forever.

“If that’s what you really want,” Anakin moves from lying at your side to settling himself between your legs.

“It is,” you reassure him. Holding onto his neck, you pull yourself up a bit. “Can you kiss me too?”

He grins before pushing you down, his large hand spread out over your soft stomach, and he chases your lips as you fall. You’re partially distracted by his mouth as his cock slides inside you. You had expected it to be more of a challenge, all things considered. Throughout high school, your friends always complained about how much it hurt their first time. Some girls bled too. And that had scared you, which is one of the reasons you never took Drew up on his many offers of a “good time.” Deep down you knew he wouldn’t treat you right. But Anakin clearly is experienced with having sex. Maybe he wasn’t as alone as you thought he had been all those years.

This being your very first time, it does sting when he fills you completely, his bony hips pressed against yours. You feel the tightness and the stretch. But you enjoy how it feels. You’re so close to passing out just because this is as close as you can get to someone.

Anakin rocks in and out slowly. Maybe he can feel that you’re tired. He’s being gentle with you despite how much he wants to rail your cunt to shreds. You can tell when he’s holding himself back. He has that weary, pained look in his rainy eyes. A part of you wants to tell him that it’s okay. Let go. But you both know that you couldn’t handle the full extent of his lust.

“Can I come inside you?” he asks before sinking his teeth into a bruise along your neck.

Short of breath, you answer, “I said... anything.”

“Okay,” his shaky voice whispers. He buries his face into the curve of your neck and moans your name into your skin. He pulls your hair gently as he finishes, his heat spreading through your core. It’s so much that you feel it leaking out.

After, he holds you there all night long. He doesn’t let you leave. And you wouldn’t want to escape.

The three words he says to you as you leave his house the morning after, you realize that he’s lied to you all the years you’ve known him.

The piano isn’t his only love or his only obsession.

It’s an outlet, and yet a mask for his sin nature which you understand more deeply than any other girl ever will.

He’s kept his real obsession hidden from everyone but you.

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@universallypiratecolor

inbox me if you want to be removed from the taglist. ty

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purplekiwis · 1 year

Text

You've got a new professor, and an obsession with his hands...

Genre: Sculptor!Harry | Professor!Harry x Student!Y/N

Warnings: +18 (smut... but not yet)

Wordcount: 3.7k

A/N: i'm not the best at photomontages so please don't roast me, I tried 😅

THIS IS A MULTI-PART SERIES. YOU CAN CHECK THE SERIES MASTERPOST : HERE AND PART 2 HERE

•·················•·················•

Hands.

His were artful,

Perhaps even an art form in and of themselves: smooth, veiny, with steady joints and capable and patient fingertips.

The hands of a craftsman - suitable for creating planets, galaxies, and even entire universes if they so desired. Both harsh and gentle, they tore, kneaded, and poked… only to stroke softly in the end.

The hands of a lover,

Those were my ceramics professor’s hands.

I bit the hidden part of my lip as I watched them move with conviction. Across the slickness, bare and sticky as they pried deeper and deeper, widening as they went and doing as they pleased.

I felt the urge to push my thighs together as I seemingly always did whenever my professor came closer, but I couldn’t because of the potter's wheel blocking my way - the one where he was fixing the crooked clay pot I had tried to make. “Next time, try using a little less water, okay? Your clay has gotten too soft… that’s why you're having trouble getting it even.”

“So less water than this time, but more than last time?” My struggle to get it right made me feel a little embarrassed, but I wanted him to know that I was listening and trying my best. He nodded in response to my question. “Okay, um- I'll try to do it correctly next time. Thanks for resurrecting my project and making it right again.”

My professor smiled warmly at me, noticing I was becoming discouraged by making so many mistakes. “No worries, I’m happy to help.” I watched him as he stood up, washed his hands in my water bowl and dried them on the rag he kept in his pottery apron. “Don't be afraid to muck around with what I've made. You're supposed to take it apart and rebuild it.”

“If I touch it, I'll ruin it and you'll need to come back for assistance again.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he shook his head. “I don't want you worrying about that. That’s why I’m here, to fix up your messes.” He sat on the stool next to me again for a moment, and when he spoke, he kept his voice low. “I want you to take it less seriously. Have fun with it — work it ‘til your wreck it. Don’t beat yourself up about it. That’s common blunder for someone who’s starting. We’ve all been there.”

“Thanks,” I smiled a little more assuredly. “I'll try to keep that in mind.”

He smiled back as he stood up from the stool. “No problem, just ask if you need anything.”

While I wasn’t sure how I got into the habit of fantasizing about my professor's hands, I did know how I ended up in his class.

I was a Product Design student.

Frankly, only because I didn’t have the grades to enroll in Interior Design like I’d always aspired to. Product Design was the second-best option that would still give me a chance of breaking into the field if I chose my classes wisely.

In order to achieve that goal, I had been planning to take a class on inclusive design this year. However, as I was about to submit my application, my computer crashed, forcing me to reenter all of my information again. Because of this, by the time I made it back to the page, most of the students had already chosen, leaving only statistical literacy and ceramics as open options.

None of those options had even the slightest appeal to me, which naturally made me incredibly frustrated at the time but, at least the choice was clear between them. Anything with the word statistics in it sounded absolutely dreadful and combining it with the word literacy somehow made it sound even worse… so I chose ceramics, despite the fact that I had never tried my hand at it.

That was why I was now behind all of my classmates, which didn't make me feel great, even though no one had made me feel inferior about my lack of skill yet… not even our professor. He was very sweet and attentive, without always being on top of me, which I appreciated. He gave me the freedom to try things on my own, but as soon as he noticed my eyes searching for him, he'd come over to check things out and lend a helping hand.

This wasn't always a positive thing because sometimes the only reason I was looking was because I couldn’t take my eyes off him. It wasn't just his hands that I kept staring at; I found him captivating in all aspects.

His hair was cool. I liked how he kept it in a messy bun and tucked flyaways behind his ears when they landed on his face. He dressed really cute too, I thought — creative yet casual, and the stubble he occasionally sported when he neglected to shave was sexy as hell.

I wasn’t fully aware of his age, but he couldn't have been much older than me when he had finished his Ph.D. in Fine Arts the previous year. In the rumor mill, he had been invited to teach shortly after earning his degree due to his extraordinary talent for clay sculpting, that had made him stand out at our university ever since he started studying there.

He hadn't shown much of his personal work outside of what he did during his school years, but I had heard through the grapevine that erotic themes were his specialty. Another thing I had heard was that because he made art under a pseudonym that he kept as a secret from most people, his work was very difficult to find online.

That bothered me a little because I was interested and wanted to see it, especially after learning that pleasure was the subject he enjoyed exploring the most. Among my classmates, I knew some made jokes about him being a pervert who had only wanted to come teach to score with the female students. My gut told me that wasn't the case, and I was miffed by those people who couldn’t comprehend that someone could find sex fascinating enough to want to depict it in most of their art without being sleazy. Fortunately, I wasn't one of them. I found sex to be an intriguing topic as well… I enjoyed having it, looking at it, and having thoughtful conversations about it.

“Professor,” I called as we finished class. I was still sat by my wheel, while everyone was cleaning and washing up. Being completely honest, I wanted to leave as well… but I made myself stay so I could make my pot look more presentable. “If you're leaving, could you please leave the room key with me? I was planning to stay a little longer.”

He seemed surprised that I wanted to stay.

I noticed his gaze fall on the collapsing walls of my pot as he handed me the key, but he was merciful enough not to comment. “Feel free to stay as long as you like. I'm taking a coffee break, but I'll be back as well.”

Finding that my professor was coming back made the prospect of staying more enticing. I wasn't expecting a lot of interaction with him, though… I didn't want to be a bother, so I would avoid requesting his assistance. It was already embarrassing enough to ask for it in class, even if he kept assuring me it was perfectly okay to do so…

Professor Harry returned to the classroom after about 10 minutes, seeming happy to find me still there. As he walked inside, he cracked a lighthearted joke about how surprised he was that I hadn't destroyed anything yet. I snorted a laugh and said that I was surprised too.

I observed him carefully as he re-tied his apron around his waist. It seemed like everything the man did attracted me. The way his triceps flexed with movement, the contours of his back, the ease with which his fingers tied the knot. None of these things escaped my attention.

“Would it be okay if I turned on some music?” Due to my dry mouth, it took me longer than it should have to answer his question. “I'm not a big fan of working in silence, but it’s okay if you are…”

“Oh, please, go ahead.” I was finally able to react, but my voice came out weird. “I don't particularly enjoy working in silence either...”

My professor smiled, then walked over to his desk and sat down at his laptop. “Have you got any special requests?”

I pretended to contemplate for a moment, but I didn't want to be the one picking the music. I wanted him to choose because I was nervous about accidentally having him listen to something he didn't like… and I was also curious about his musical tastes. “Not really, no. I'm not picky. I like most music.” That part was true, but he seemed skeptical. “Just pretend I'm not here and play whatever music you normally listen to.”

The look on his face was still skeptical, but he agreed. “Okay, I will. Just let me know if you don't like it so I can switch to something you like best.”

He put on Woodkid's Warm Core album and looked at me to see if I was keen on the choice. “This is cool. I like it.” It was the kind of alternative music I anticipated he would listen to, being an artist and all, and it made me happy because I also liked it.

“Alright, good. If at any point you decide that you no longer like it, feel free to request a change.” I was getting a little hot over how much he was focusing on making sure I liked his music. I’d always had this conviction that one of the ways to tell if a guy is good in bed is to look for signs that he is considerate and eager to please – and already, my professor was scoring points in that department. I glanced at him, and I believe he noticed because he asked, “Is there anything you need help with, or should I just let you do your thing and keep to myself?”

“Um…” I stammered, returning my attention to the horrible looking pot I was working on. I had been right the first time. I shouldn't have touched it after he fixed it for me. “I'm holding up for now. Thanks, professor.”

He smiled at me. “You can leave out the “professor” when we're outside of class. That term is still settling in for me… it's a bit off-putting to be addressed that way when I was also a student here just a year ago - especially when I can't be that much older than you, right?”

I joined him in his smile. “Yeah, I get what you mean. I suppose it's not weird for me because I don't remember seeing you at school last year. How old are you, though, just out of curiosity?”

“I’m 27, you?”

“Wow, you’re really old...” He wasn’t, really… especially since I had assumed he would be in his thirties, given that he was a professor and all. I snorted when he side-eyed me from across the room, where he’d been tidying up and organizing the equipment the students had left behind. “I was just kidding. I'm 22, so...”

His brows furrowed slightly in response to my reveal. “So you're a little older than the rest of the class. Makes sense, you seem a bit more grown-up in comparison to them.” I took that as a compliment because, while my classmates weren't much younger than me – they had to be around 19 – some still acted like teenagers in many ways. “Also, since you mentioned not seeing me at school last year… that’s because I went abroad for a few months to study, and then I had to wrap up my thesis, so I didn't come very often.”

“Oh, that's cool. Where did you go?”

“Norway, to Oslo more specifically. It's a city I think everyone should visit if they ever get the chance to. I had a wonderful time there.” He turned his head away from what he was doing to look at me. “Have you ever thought about going abroad for school?”

“I've thought about it, but I don’t know. It doesn't really call to me right now, to be honest... maybe next year.” I was really interested in hearing more about Harry's experience in Norway, so I shifted the focus of the conversation back to that. “What was the best part of it for you?”

I could tell he was excited to talk about it, as evidenced by the sparkle in his eye. “A difficult question, that. I loved the landscapes and food there, as well as the people. Oslo’s a beautiful city, and it has an amazing art scene that's definitely worth exploring.” He paused for a moment, laughed, and then spoke again, “But I guess I should say that meeting Astrid, my girlfriend, was probably the best part.”

“Wow, that's... something.” Something I'd rather he didn't have, I thought to myself despite my amenable expression. “Has she traveled all the way here with you?”

“Oh no, she stayed in Oslo. We've been doing long-distance and stuff… it isn't always easy, but we make it work.” I could tell by the look on his face that he had somewhat regretted sharing that with me. “Anyway, you should give the studying abroad thing some more thought... you seem like someone who would enjoy that kind of thing. You give off a good vibe.”

“Ha, thanks... so do you. I really like your style.”

I saw his cheeks flush at my compliment. “I don’t put a lot of thought into my clothes, to be honest. Most of the time, I just throw on whatever.”

“Well, it works, so...” Seeing me shrug, he smiled, but said nothing further. I figured the conversation was over and got back to my work. Harry did the same thing; except he was no longer cleaning up and was instead using his laptop. Even though I stayed another hour, he didn't leave until I did, which made me feel bad because it made me wonder if he had stayed on purpose to be there in case I needed anything. “Do you usually stay here until this late?” I inquired as he closed the classroom door.

“Um… it depends, sometimes I do, but if you weren't here I would’ve probably left earlier.”

His confession caused a small contraction in my heart. I now regretted staying for so long, especially since I had spent some of that time merely acting as though I was working. “Oh, I'm so sorry. You didn’t have to do that. I would have been fine by myself. I just wanted to practice.”

“Oh no, don't get me wrong. I stayed longer because I wanted to. I live alone, so… I am by myself a lot. It was nice to have company for a change.”

“Ah, I see...” That was something I hadn’t considered before, but it made sense. Most of Harry’s university friends were probably no longer around, or if they were, perhaps he'd lost touch with them after going away for so many months. That had happened to me with my high school friends, so I knew how it felt. “I was actually planning on doing this more frequently to see if I could improve my pottery skills, so… you're welcome to keep me company if that's something you'd like to do.”

He acknowledged my invitation with a courteous smile. “Ah, thanks. I appreciate that.” When he didn't respond right away, I assumed he wasn't interested, which made me feel stupid for having suggested it. Why would he want to spend time with a student five years his junior? He was probably cringing at the thought. That was what I was assuming, until he started speaking again after a pause. “I reckon as long as you really don't mind me being around, that could be something that works for me.”

•·················•·················•

Over the course of a couple of weeks, it became a habit for me and Harry to spend time together after class. Most times, more than once a week. The days when I didn’t have class until late, I would wander to the atelier after his class and spend the next few hours there. It was really easy to get along despite our slight age difference.

I didn't know Harry well enough to say that we had a lot in common, but we just clicked really well. Having a conversation with him was easy, and his presence was warm and reassuring.

We would sometimes work separately, but Harry had taken it upon himself to teach me the things I had been falling behind on. He taught me how to use a kiln to fire and glaze pottery, as well as a bunch of different building and decorating techniques. I liked the last one most because he got to sit next to me and help me paint and texturize. I was really proud of a mug we had made together. Harry had commented that the wavy handle I had made for it looked like the tail of a fish when we put it in, so we went on to decorate the rest of the mug to fit that concept.

“You’re a good painter…” He complimented me as I painted the fish’s fins. I wrinkled my nose at him. Painting had always been a fun activity for me, but I had never considered myself good at it. Harry, on the other hand, was a true artist, thanks to his Fine Arts training and skillful hands…

I looked at the fin I'd drawn and noticed that it was unmistakably more unsightly than the one on the picture I was taking inspiration from. Harry couldn't possibly believe I was talented as a painter. He was just trying to say something nice.

“What? I'm serious…” He assured me, appearing a little surprised by my doubtful demeanor. “And you have a great eye for color too.”

“Hmm, I find that last one is a little more believable; I'll take it.” I said before returning to straightening out my wonkiest brush strokes. I'd spent enough time designing pretty rooms in Intericad Lite to feel reasonably confident on my ability to mix and match colors so, accepting that compliment wasn't too difficult. Besides that isn’t really a talent, is it? It's something a lot of people have.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice drew my attention back to him. “I meant both of the things I said. I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t.”

The seriousness I was met with when I looked into Harry's eyes made me feel emotional and flustered at the same time. “Thanks,” I smiled a little before looking down at my mug. “I think I haven't gotten a compliment on my painting skills since I was a little kid…”

“You used to get compliments on it when you were little?”

“Sometimes, yeah… mainly from teachers because I always colored inside the lines.”

“I think it's really unfortunate that we stop getting compliments as we get older… I can't really complain because I've been lucky to grow up in a supportive environment, but I know that after a certain point in most people’s lives criticism becomes the norm, while praise for rightdoing is never given.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” I grabbed another brush and continued to color my mug because the topic we were discussing was now making me feel like I might actually start crying if I didn't keep my emotions under control, and I didn’t want Harry to see that. “My parents were never particularly supportive of me or my interests, so I haven’t felt much of a difference as I grew older… I think that’s why I find it a bit difficult to accept people’s compliments nowadays, though. I tend to doubt myself and others a lot.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I had a hunch that was the case with you.” Harry’s statement surprised me a bit. I knew professors could usually read their students well, but I wasn't aware of how see-through I was. “When we first started class, I was a little nervous because I could tell that you were lost at times and could use some help, but I wasn't sure of how to approach you. I was afraid that if I made it known that I could tell you were struggling, you would withdraw even further. I didn’t want that. I wanted you to feel comfortable and know that I wouldn't judge you.”

“You never made me feel uncomfortable… I just felt embarrassed to ask for help because everyone in your class comes from an arts background and knows more than me. I didn't want you to think I was dumb or that I was wasting your time with questions that I should have known the answers to.”

“You could never waste my time. I like teaching you a lot… you always listen and all the questions you ask are perfectly normal.” He gave me a reassuring smile and I felt my insecurities melt away with the rest of my body. “And on top of that, it's easier for me to teach you since you are a blank slate, as opposed to some of the art students who come with stubborn vices they won't get rid of. Experience isn’t always an advantage.”

“You're a really good professor, Harry.” I said truthfully. “I'm really glad I ended up in your class, even if it wasn’t my first choice.”

“It wasn't your first choice?” His face pretended to be shocked, but I knew he wasn't. Given that I had told him about my goal to pursue a career in Interior Design, I knew he had to have known by that point that there was no reason for me to be in his class other than by chance. “Okay, now I'm offended, and no amount of ego-puffing will help you remedy that…”

I shook my head and smiled at his antics as I dipped my brush back into the paint palette. “Not even if I admit you're really cool to talk to and have great musical taste?”

Following my brush dip, Harry dipped his as well. “Give me a little more detail on that and I might re-consider.”

•·················•·················•

I hope you guys liked this first part 💜

PART 2

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gatitties · 1 year

Note

Hi! I wanted to ask if you’d consider doing a continuation of “Not in my world” specifically with the kid pirates?

─Kid Pirates x isekaed!student!reader

─Summary: one of many battles where you didn't want to get involved but end up saving the day

─Warnings: none

Part one / Part two

Yeah maybe I have something more for them (it's not because they're my favorite crew… no 😶)

You sighed letting your body settle into the chair, letting the warm rays of the sun give your skin a satisfying tingle, if you ignored the constant threats to your life and a whole ship full of sweaty men of dubious hygiene, you could have this like a vacation in the Caribbean, you know, a post-graduation vacation.

Only you didn't finish your studies and the only thing that seemed like a vacation was that you didn't have homework, exams or schedules to keep an eye on. The rest was just stressful, but at least you had a lot of control with this type of situation, something useful you had learned in all your years as a student and that is to manage and cope with anxiety attacks, a bit sad though.

"We are under attack!"

You closed your eyes biting your inner cheek, the worst thing about being here is that Kid seemed to pick a fight with every pirate he saw, resulting in many attacks towards them, and inevitably towards you, you were a bit calmer since you started training in self defense but that wouldn't make you go on the attack.

"Are you going inside?"

"No, I just go to the bathroom and right away I'll smash someone's head, yeah, of course I'll go inside."

Killer shrugged, you were always hiding inside so he didn't really care about that, neither did the others as they seemed much more focused on the fight, however you would always get a disappointed look from the captain, did you care? No, your life was not made for fighting and if you could avoid it you would.

You spent most of it inside the doctor's room where you thought you would be safe because no one would think to hide any kind of loot here, unluckily one of the enemies was looking for some medical supplies to heal.

You just remained silent looking at each other, you took advantage of the moment of strange silence to grab a chair and throw it at his legs, unfortunately he kicked it to pieces, but you managed to move in time to dodge the sword that flew towards your shoulder.

You muttered a lot of curses while dodging every possible blow, you got a few cuts but nothing that could kill you, you decided to go outside as it would probably be easier to lose that guy in a crowd, even if it meant going headlong into the lion's den.

Luckily your lack of presence did the job on its own and the guy who started attacking you inside got lost in another battle on his way outside, you sighed in relief, standing on the sidelines as you watched everyone beat each other to near death. You shuddered at the sight of so much violence that you never seemed to adjust to.

A little problem about you in this world is that the whole thing about devil fruits and powers had you fascinated, you could see anyone using their power and your brain would just go off, just looking at how surreal it looks, which happened to you right now as you watched Kid play with metal in the air like it was nothing.

"Watch your surroundings! You can't get distracted in the middle of a battlefield."

Wire used his trident to parry a stray arrow heading straight for your head, you sweated nervously at this, giving the tall man a tight smile who sighed in relief that he had arrived on time. Even though the main four had an eye on you ever since you came dodging that guy, they eventually got used to your weird (for them) pacifist behavior and appreciated the help you sometimes gave them.

"At this pace of life I'm going to go bald…"

You muttered biting your nails, impatient for all this altercation to end once and for all, it was taking longer than usual to finish off those pirates, apparently the enemy's cannons were the biggest problem that no one seemed to be able to take care of.

"Damn… I always have to find the solutions myself."

You ran dodging most of them, reaching the ropes that joined both boats to go towards the opposite, Heat seemed to notice your actions and helped you by removing some men that you couldn't shoot down, the other boat was practically deserted, only the gunners firing, luckily too focused on their task that you were able to knock them unconscious with a blow to the neck.

You had never seen much less work with cannons in your old life but… if before most of the things you touched broke you just have to use your power of stupidity to break this, not even two minutes later you were just trying to understand how turning it on because it didn't have a fuse and you accidentally broke them, job done successfully, being a walking disaster was your greatest achievement in life, at least being clumsy helped you.

The problem was that when you wanted to go back all the enemies seemed defeated and of course going back to their ship to run away after the beating, the ropes were cut and they cornered you on the edge of the rail, your best option would be to jump, maybe with some luckily no sea monster would be found around here although with some corpses and blood in the sea… you weren't so sure.

"Do you trust me?!"

You didn't need to turn your head to know whose voice it was, Kid yelled from afar, without being able to see him you knew he was enjoying your internal struggle about what the hell to do when you seemed to be between a rock and a hard place, you swallowed, breathed deep, you took a step back climbing on the rail and before any of that crew could touch you a single hair your body plunged into the ocean in a dizzying way, if it were another less stressful situation, maybe you would have enjoyed the feeling, but not now that your heart was in your throat.

After your leap of faith (little though it was) you felt a tug at your waist, your body began to move towards Kid's outstretched hand, you quickly connected the dots and understood why they were so insistent that you wear the metal belt you wear now.

"Looks like we're going to have a big celebration today, don't you think?"

Kid released you once he was able to grab you in his arms, smiling cheekily to see how you were completely disheveled, with a completely exhausted look, you gave him the middle finger, getting out of there to your makeshift room, but not before answering him.

"Fuck off, I need a vacation from my vacation to get over this trauma."

"You're just being dramatic."

"Yeah… whatever, don't talk to me for a week, I need peace of mind and a lot of incense."

Killer chuckled quietly as he watched you slam the door shut, the others seemed just as amused by your attitude, deciding to leave you alone as they toasted to you for not chickening out and helping for once in one of their battles, you just hope they don't think that this will happen more often.

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savannahsdeath · 9 months

Text

TEACHER!ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

PART 2TWO

part 1one

mdni please<3

summary: you visit miss williams after class again

warnings: 18+!! smut

writers note: this was so hard to write for no reason at all omg..😓😓also sorry i fucked up the tenses or whatever but hush i think i fixed it

you arrived to class, eager to learn but also eager to see her, hoping to catch her attention. miss williams greeted you pleasantly at the door, then walked to the front to begin teaching the lesson for the day. throughout the hour, you found it difficult to focus on the subject matter, as she catched your attention every now and then with a quick glance or a friendly smile.

after class, she stayed behind a few minutes to help a couple students that had questions. you remained, wanting to be one of the students to spend more time with her.

she finished helping the students, and you were the last one remaining. she started to clean up her desk. suddenly, she stopped and looked up at you. a sly smile appeared on her face. she walked towards you, reaching out to brush your hair aside with her fingers.

"how's my best student doing this afternoon?" she asked. her flirtatious tone sent your heart racing and your whole body becomed flushed.

you felt your cheeks heating up as you replied to her question. "i'm... doing well, miss..." you couldn't finish your sentence as her fingers lingered in your hair for a bit too long.

she leaned in close to your face and whispered; "i was wondering if you'd be interested in... some extra credit." the smile on her face and the tone of her voice told you exactly what she means.

your heart was beating faster than ever as you felt her breath on your face. "i would actually..." you smiled, trying to sound calm and unbothered.

she slowly leaned forward even more, until your faces were so close that you could feel her breath on your lips. she paused for a second, to build up anticipation, then closed the distance in one swift movement, and pressed her lips to yours.

your whole body burnt up, as all your thoughts and troubles disappeared and were replaced by pure excitement. you kissed her deeply and passionately, her hands slowly made their way up your body.

you broke apart for a moment to catch your breath. your heart was racing, your breath heavy.

she smiled at you, then looked around the room before whispering. "my office is just across the hall. would you like to join me?"

another rush of excitement fills your whole body. it was flushed and you felt like your heart might explode any second.

"yes, miss..." was all you managed to answer.

you eagerly followed her across the hall, the excitement of the moment building up as you both walk. she opened the door to her office and gestured for you to enter. as you did, she closed the door behind you and locked it, a quiet clicking sound following.

"you know," she started, with a hint of mischief in her voice. "this is against code, inviting a student in for personal reasons. but i'm not sure i mind the risk. here, sit down."

she pointed at the chair next to her desk. you took a seat, your heart skipping a beat, or more.

you weren't sure how a teacher-student relationship should work in this situation, but the way she was acting and talking to you... it feels wrong, in the best way possible.

she kneeled in front of you, caressing your thigh.

without any warning, her soft lips touched your neck in a series of tender kisses, while her hand slowly moved up your leg.

you leaned back in the chair and let her continue. only excitement and desire filled your mind.

she moved her head up and looked into your eyes. the look in her gaze was primal, like she has desired you for a long, long time. you feel her hair on your cheeks as she leans down to kiss your neck again.

this is going so... surprisingly well. you felt yourself becoming more and more comfortable with what was happening. your body was giving into a hard-to-control urge, and you finally let go of all your worries.

as her lips touched your neck again, you felt the heat of her skin against yours. you felt her breathing become heavy and felt her hands move upwards through your clothes, towards your body. you felt everything in the most unforgotten way. she started unbuttoning your jeans, quietly, gently, as she didn't want to ruin the moment.

she carefully removed your jeans from your legs, leaving them around your ankles while she put her hands on your thighs again. your body trembles again, as excitement, desire and fear fill you up.

"relax your body" she whispered, noticing your slight nervousness and soaked underwear. you tried to listen to her, but it's too difficult as you felt your whole body tense.

she slowly rubbed her hands up your thighs, her touch sending a wave of pleasure throughout the entire lower half of your body. she took off her glasses, resting them at the edge of the table.

you tried to take a few deep breaths. her hands kept running over your thighs, sending signals to your brain and making you feel more and more excited. suddenly, she looked down and saw the evidence... your soaked underwear. she looked back up at you with a grin on her face. "aw, that's cute."

you felt your face flush and you were completely speechless at that point. you tried to move your legs a bit to cover up the mess, but her hands were slowly separating your thighs.

she was teasing you over and over as you sunk onto the armchair. her tongue was sliding up and down, her saliva replacing the wet spot that was on your underwear. but she wasn't exactly doing her best. i mean, she did her best at missing your clit every. single. time. on purpose, too. of course she didn't completely leave it out, but she wasn't paying too much attention to the place you needed her to.

you were, honestly, fed up with that little antic. it was like pure torture and you had to do something.

"ellie-" you started but before you could plead, beg and cry about how much she ruins you, she cut you off.

"getting informal with me already?" she smirked, replacing her tongue with her fingers for the time she was speaking.

you instantly shook your head, hoping this little accident of oblivion won't cause you too much trouble.

"m' sorry- i didn't want to..." you started whining, seeming truly scared.

"don't worry, love. what did you want to say?" she reassured, clearly amused by the fact you were already starting to lose your mind.

you squeezed you eyes shut and started stuttering out; "i need... can you-" when she suddenly pressed her lips against your clit. you moaned out some curses, knowing that in any other circumstances, you'd get severely punished by swearing in front of a teacher. now, your language made her simply chuckle. but she did what you wanted to, after all, and that wasn't a reason to complain. quite the opposite, you had no reason to complain anymore, so you didn't bother to end your sentence.

she kept going for what felt like ages but you loved every second of it as she wasn't just teasing anymore. she could tell you're close to your release, again, as your whimpers became louder and more high-pitched. sometimes, in between the moans (god, how lucky you were everyone already left school), you'd call out her name, not bothered by getting 'informal' anymore. in the last second she pulled away, her tongue twirling around her lips. when she finished licking off anything left, she clicked the oh so precise and gentle muscle she had pressed against you just a moment ago and tilted her head with a sly smirk.

you frowned, your eyebrows knitted together as you wiped your uncontrollable tears off. "what are you doing? i was just about to-"

she patted your thigh, standing up. "dress up, it's getting late."

you looked at the clock, hung on the wall above the desk. it was about 5 p.m., not so late but you definitely should be home by now.

"shit." you hissed as you remembered you were supposed to go shopping with your mom an hour ago.

you pulled your pants back up and started straightening your clothes in a rush.

"calm down, dear. we have a whole school year ahead of us, we'll meet again."

you nodded, trying to pretend you're not bothered by her leaving you on edge with the 'it's getting late' excuse again.

sorry if someone isnt tagged baes:(

TAGS: @aouiaa @maelovescashew @gabbiecakes7 @bat-teeth @macaroni676 @simpforellie @emluvselandabs @loliambich

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