I'm a relatively new writer here! (I also repost absolute ramdom things *cough* peter capaldi *cough*, so my blog is a bit cluttered lol) I would love anyone to request fics or at least help me with the ropes! I have never published any writing before so comments are appreciated!
PLEASE READ: All fics that are requested i have recieved and I am working on them! I publish the fic directly with the ask so that way it is easy to find. I promise I recieved them. Edit: It takes me a long time and i am still recovering from major sickness (Also I love all the requests <3)
I write for the following characters so far (character list below the cut), however I am not opposed to maybe adding a few more!
Masterlist here!
AO3 Here!
Doctor who:
9th doctor
10th doctor
11th doctor
12th doctor
Harry Potter:
Sirius Black
Remus Lupin
Severus Snape
George Weasley
Fred Weasley
Open to others by request
Marvel:
Loki
Stephen Strange
Tony Stark
Open to others by request
Random:
John Wick
Ian Malcolm
TED LASSO.
Din Djarin
Five Hargreeves
Sherlock
OC's!!! (New!) - each name will have a link to their character description
Elise Shepard
Please Please Please help me out here! Can’t wait to see the amazing things created here. I will write 18+ content and many warnings will be provided. I mostly write one-shots, drabbles, quite a few reader inserts (Y/n). Not a fan of multi-chapter fics but may write if persuaded. Thank you!
Summary: While attempting to get rations for the journey ahead of you, the Mandalorian and you get caught in a bad part of the market. Din needs your help dealing with some injuries earned from the little dust up.
Word Count: 2.8k
Warnings: Violence, threats, creepy men, attempted kidnapping, sex, p in v, blindfold, helmet stays on (partly), unprotected (seriously guys, wrap it before you tap it), light choking, bondage if you squint.
A/N: Heyyyyyyy luvs! I’m back! Using this little Drabble as an a transition back into writing when I can in my free time. Let me know how I did :)
The razor crest hummed with the slight rattle of hyperspace as you waited idly in your bunk. The Mandalorian had left to deal with another bounty while you took care of the green child you’ve begun to know and love.
Over time, you’ve noticed how the supposedly hard hearted Mandalorian has grown to become a gentle parent to the little one. Every time Mando holds the child in his lap like a patient father, your heart warms toward the beskar clad man. More recently though, Mando has been slowly showing you some of the same warmth.
Little fleeting touches as you navigate the narrow halls of the razor crest, lingering glances at your smile as you play with the kid, the expanse of his skin as he reluctantly lets you help him sew up a wound, and even rough chuckles after dry jokes that you would’ve never expected. His voice dark and low even through the modulator in his steely helmet. Though recently one moment above all keeps your imagination wandering back behind closed eyelids.
Yesterday, a trip brought the both of you to the sprawling city market of Coruscant. You had been desperate for an outing not related to taking care of the child after your previous station as a fellow hunter had come temporarily to rest. Mando had picked you up after escaping capture of the empire, and returning your services to help protect the child was the least you could do. In some twisted way, this little routine haven of domesticity formed between the three of you.
~~~~~
The market winded and roared with life as negotiations and bargain deal could be heard transpiring around you in all directions.
“Let’s cut through so we can get the rations”
Mando spoke up over the bustle of the crowd to guide you, his gloved hand raising to point as a path cut through the crowd behind the market stands. You nod and forge the path by winding between people using your smaller stature to your advantage. His presence was felt as he worked his way behind you, the people parting at his intimidating demeanor. Finally you both get to the back alley of the market he had suggested and begin to move through the maze in an attempt to find a shortcut to the rations booths.
As you walk along, the dark corners and shadows are occupied by shady men slinking along in the darkness. You tense, and the Mandalorian notices your gaze. In an instant, you feel a grounding sensation of a gloved hand raising to guide you from the small of your back.
The feeling sent sparks down your spine, almost as if he was claiming his protection of you in front of all the men who lurked and looked a little too long at the expanse of your skin. Your breath hitches, but you play it off as best you can and walk with his guidance through the alleys.
The farther you both go, the more lost you seem. Scantily dressed women now lurk among the shadows with the men, some even on display behind panes of transparisteel. Clearly, this was not the place you two were meant to be.
In the blink of an eye you feel a rough hand on your wrist pulling you and your other hand reaches for your blaster sheathed at your thigh and aim it at the assailant.
”Feisty…” a slimy voice says from the shadows “let’s see what we can do about that”
Before you can counter your blaster is ripped from your hand and you feel the handle of it come across your cheek with a sharp Crack!
Your head whips to the side as you register the pain in your face and see Mando equally occupied with a man behind you. Blood drips down your cheek and you manage to grab a blade hidden in your boots, blinding slicing until you feel it connect with the man’s skin. Despite your best efforts, the knife is quickly twisted out of your hold while the man pins your wrist with your other arm and kicks your knees out so you buckle into him.
A rough hand slides up into your hair and yanks back, exposing your throat.
”Let’s see what you will sell for… pretty girl”
The cool edge of your familiar knife presses against your throat and you squirm backward, helpless in the almost hog tie the man put you in. Suddenly a sharp sound of a blaster erupts and the man wails out in pain. The knife is dropped from your throat as you register the hole now put in his arm. A strong figure approaches behind you and a blaster is raised now to the man’s temple. The last words this man will ever hear come from the deep crackle of the modulator.
”Not. For. Sale.”
The trigger is pulled and the man goes limp, taking your body down with him. You are quickly hoisted up by the waist with a pair of strong arms and brought gently to your feet.
“Are you alright?” The voice is low, but frantic.
“Y-yes”
It’s an involuntary stutter, but the shock is catching up with your now aching body. You quickly scan him with your eyes for any immediate injuries, but see none. The blood is running down your face now the the swelling is reaching your eye but the blocked vision is not your priority at the moment.
”We need to leave. Now.”
You nod. The order is swift, so you grab my blaster and knife with shaking hands and sheath them while you move further into the winding alley. This time, the Mandalorian forges ahead of you with your hand in his while dragging you out of the alley avoiding the gaze of all the other dwellers of the night.
On the Razor Crest, you sit on your bunk in the makeshift bedroom while you refrain from flinching as Mando sprays on the bactospray. Blood is wiped up from a surprisingly gentle hand with a cloth. The bruise now covers a good portion of your eyesight, but you can see the glint of your injury in the reflection of the pure steel of the helmet in front of you. The small line of where the knife rested on your throat appears faintly as well.
“Are you okay?”
The voice is soft, almost imperceptible through the modulator.
”Other than this shiner, my knight in beskar armor saved me”
The joke is meant to be a dry, self-deprecating one but the movement makes you hiss in air through your teeth as your cheek flexes. He chuckles too, but the air Is thin.
“Knight in Beskar armor, huh?” The voice is soft. “I’m not so sure, you got him pretty well on your own except for a few snags”
”Yeah, like him pinning me and having a knife to my throat” You roll your eyes.
You both stay like that, chatting idly about the events of the day and discussing what other planets you can go to to get rations for the foreseeable future.
~~~~~
That was yesterday, and the pleasant domesticity apprised you. You breathed in deep as your hand wandered down your stomach and below your waistband at the thought of his care and protection over you.
Suddenly, the sound of depressurizing can be heard and the ramp lowers for entry to the crest. A bounty is dragged in unconscious and almost immediately incased in carbonite. You scramble to your feet and go to see your Mandalorian as he comes in, weary from the hunt. The bruise on your cheek and eye has reduced swelling a bit, but still remains enough to be annoying the everyday activities such as just trying to check him over for simple injuries or anything you can see.
There is stiffness in his movements when your eyes land on him. He’s hurt, and your heart drops to the floor.
“Are you okay?”
The question comes out softly before you even realize it left your lips. He strides clumsily toward you, then takes your chin between his forefinger and thumb before raising it to meet the dark line of his visor. A shaky breath leaves your lips as your core melts into liquid at his touch.
”I’m okay, just took some nasty hits.”
The soft voice and gentle touch he uses with you is clearly meant to be reassuring after hearing the worry in your voice. You reach a hand to cover his with a soft smile of relief.
“Let me help you”
Taking his hand, you lead him down to his bedroom and help him remove his armor. The weight of the chest plate comes off first, then shortly after the pauldrons and so on until he remains in just his clothes underneath the armor.
“Where?”
He points to his side, grunting while lowering himself onto the small bed that resides in his chambers. You reach to pull up his shirt and reveal swirling black and blue bruises up the side of his ribs.
“Dank Ferrik, Din…” You sigh deeply “What happened?”
This type of injury is very uncharacteristic for such a skilled fighter. You doubt heavily that this would’ve happened if he was at his best.
”He got the jump on me I guess, must’ve been distracted”
A grunt resounds from him and you lower his waistband slightly, revealing more bruising on his hip. The helmet tracks your movements as you delicately trace the line of discoloring with your finger, careful not to prod.
While leaving to get the bacta spray, the Mandalorian lets his gaze run up and down your body as you walk away. When you disappear behind the wall of his room into the refresher, the helmet hits the pillow on his bed with a soft thud as his head falls back. He runs a hand over the curve of his helmet in an attempt to ground himself, but gods he hasn’t been able to get his mind off you.
Coming back into the room, your breath catches at the sight of Din with his hand roaming his helmet, head tilted back, and the expanse of his skin where his waistband was lowered. The sight takes the breath right out of your lungs, leaving you scrambling to gain composure as you step closer to him. You step beside the bed and lower yourself down closer to his injuries.
“Is there more anywhere else?”
Din nods slowly, reaching down to tug on the hem of his thin shirt. More black and blue reaches up just barely below his navel, though other much older silver scars catch your eye. Before understanding what you’re doing, you feel your fingers tracing the thin lines of raised skin across the skin under his ribs. You could feel his muscles tense under your touch, and almost recoiled before Din caught your hand with his.
“What are you doing Mesh’la?”
His voice sounded rougher, maybe even strained, through the modulator. You lowered your eyes, heat flooding your cheeks as you reach for the bacta spray with your available hand and start to dress his wounds, muttering a small nearly inaudible apology.
The air felt dense with the deafening silence. Carrying on, you smoothed the spray onto the wounds with one hand while painfully aware of the loose grip he had your other wrist held in.
“Mesh’la… look at me”
Your hands stilled. It took what felt like an eternity to meet his gaze through the visor. His head tilted at you in question.
”What are you thinking?”
A newfound confidence overtook your thoughts as your realized that he was not pulling away from your touch, but in fact inching toward it. Your free hand roamed over his torso before pulling his shirt further up his body. Heavy breathing crackled through the modulator as his grip on your wrist tightened over so slightly.
“Tell me to stop”
A heartbeat passed between you, then two. His silence was the only answer you needed as he let your wrist drop through his fingers.
Quickly realizing that the shirt would have to stay on because of his helmet, your attention turned to the rapidly dissipating bruises spreading underneath his waistband. You hooked your fingers in on either side of his hips, and slowly slid the material down his legs as Din himself kicked off his boots to the floor.
Now that Din was left in only his boxers, you rose from the edge of the bed and swung a leg over his body so you straddled his hips and seated your clothed lower half on his thighs, careful to avoid the still healing bruises. A groan crackled through the monitor at the contact, and your head rises to meet his gaze before leaning over and pressing kisses to his jaw just beneath his helmet. You pull back to meet his gaze through the visor.
”I never said thank you”
”What?” Din’s confusion comes out hoarse and a little breathless.
”For what you did for me in the market” You shift your hips to hover over the bulge in his boxers and he sighs.
”If you’re doing this as a thank y-“
”I’m not” You interrupt abruptly, pressing a hand against his bare chest under his shirt, lowering yourself on him slowly and feeling the hard outline of his cock. ”I just wanted you to know”
His hips involuntarily buck up slightly to make contact with your body. A hand comes up to knead at the soft flesh of your hip through your pants. Quickly after, another hand settles on your waist, toying with the hem of your shirt.
“Cyar’ika… I need this off of you”
The same hand tugs upward on the fabric, lifting it to below your breasts before your hand help his bring the shirt up and over your torso. While you toss the shirt somewhere in the abyss of his room, gloved hands unhook the clasps on the back of your bra, freeing your breasts at the straps slide delicately down your shoulders. Din’s breath hitching at the sight of you is audible through the modulator. While his gaze rakes over your scarred torso and plush figure and your own hands slide down to unbutton your pants.
Swinging one leg off to shimmy the material off along with your boots, you quickly resume your position clad in only your soaked underwear. The heat between your bodies is palpable, and the air feels thick with tension. You could feel Din holding back, his infamous control at its wits end. Leaving in, you start to trail kisses and little nips along his jaw and collar bone where his shirt exposes his skin.
You hear the sound of Velcro coming apart and the dull thud of his gloves hitting the ground before his hand threads through your hair. A hand rests at your hip, pinning you in place as he shifts his weight to feel your heat through his boxers. Your kisses start trailing down his shoulder and waist as you reach down further to palm him over his boxers, feeling the massive weight of him. A tug on your hair forces you to meet his gaze again.
”Mesh’la, I need you to tell me if you don’t want this, because once we start I’m not sure if I can stop”
The concern in his voice is comforting, but you assure him with a nod of your head and a kiss to his stomach that you’re more than fine with this.
You free his length from his boxers and begin stroking languidly up and down his length. His grip on your hair and hip tightens and you see his head hit the pillow. A hand travels from your hair down your the soft skin of your stomach, going lower to stroke over your underwear. You bite your lip, using every bit of strength to not buck your hips and reveal to him just down desperate you are. He slides your panties to the side and drags two fingers through your folds, feeling how wet you are.
”So wet for me… think you could take me just like this?”
You nod, the thought bringing even more heat your core. Maneuvering to sit over his length, Din parts your thighs and slides the fabric of your underwear to the side before running the head of his cock over your drenched cunt. A whine escapes your lips as you feel him start to circle your entrance before teasing himself inside you. Slowly, his length starts to fill you up and you sink down on his cock, adjusting to the size of him. There is a slight burn but it’s masked by the delicious stretch. Once your fully seated on him to the hilt, you take a second to adjust before raising your hips and lowering them again. His tips spears so deep into you it hits a spot you didn’t know you could feel.
Hands fly to your hips as Din guides you up and down on his cock. Speeding up, you find a steady rhythm that has you holding back moans. Thrusting up into you, you feel his rhythm start to get to an erratic pace. You clench around him, seeing stars with how tightly your eyes are shut before cumming around him with a near shout of a moan muffled by your hand flying up to your mouth. With little strength, Din pulls your hand away from your mouth before moaning himself while filling you up as he fucks you through your pleasure.
You remain like that for a moment, both of you spent and breathless. He pulls himself out of you and you straddle his thighs. Before you understand what’s going on, your on the bed on your back, Din hovering above you with his arms caging you in on either side of your head.
“Do you trust me?”
His voice is deep and gravely, but full of sincerity.
“With my life”
Din reaches down and takes a section of his shirt before ripping it apart at the hem. Your eyes blow wide and he removes it and folds the fabric over a few times over before motioning you to lift your head. You do, the the fabric is set over your eyes and tied at the base you your neck. The world is black, and you hear a depressurizing sound and the clank of metal. Surely he’s not removing his helmet, you think. Much to the contrary, you feel his lips crash into yours. You hands flail around in the dark to find purchase on his head to keep him there and kissing you. Coarse, curly hair is under your fingertips and you grip on and pull him impossibly closer.
Kisses travel down your jaw, over your shoulders, your collarbone, and resting at the valley of your breasts. Hands knead at the flesh before taking a nipple in pinching it between his forefinger and thumb. The sensation is sharp and makes your back arch off the bed in pleasure. The other breasts is then quickly taken into his mouth, his tongue swirling at the hard bud causing you to cry out in surprise and pleasure. After some time, the positions are switched and your breath is taken from your lungs. His kisses move downward, sliding the ruined fabric of your panties completely down and discarding them, before pushing your knees apart and your feet back toward you on the bed.
Arms hook under your thighs and pull you onto his awaiting tongue. The sudden onslaught of sensation causes your legs to attempt to squeeze shut around his head. His shoulders press your thighs apart as he flicks your clit with his tongue, groaning at your taste and the sounds you’re letting free. One arm snakes its way around your bottom half holding you in place while the other arm comes up to press a middle finger into your entrance, earning a pathetic sounding whine. The fingers curls into spots that makes you see stars while slowly pumping in and out of you, then adding another. His tongue circles your entrance then enters to add pleasure with his fingers. Your back arches off the bed and you can’t help but moan out his name. White-hot pleasure bursts behind your eyelids as you come from his mouth.
He fucks you through your high before kissing up your body. When he finally kisses your lips, the taste of you on him is the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced. You reach your hands around to rest in his hair before they are taken by the wrist and pinned above your head.
“Oh mesh’la… I’m not done with you yet”
Din’s unfiltered voice and hot breath in the shell of your ear makes your eyes roll back beneath the blindfold with an audible sigh from the breath you were holding.
Without much warning, his cock is at your entrance. Din sets a cruelly slow pace, sliding in inch by delicious inch. He can’t seem but to help praising you with little comments.
”Gods, your so wet for me”
”Just like that, don’t stop”
”You’re killing me, cyar’ika”
His hands roam your body as he rocks deep within your core, leaving you breathless and begging for more. A hand snakes up toward the column of your throat, slowly wrapping his slender fingers around it. Movement stills for a moment, as if he is silently questioning whether or not this is okay. You nod quickly, the sensation between your pinned hands and the soft presence of his hand on your throat going straight toward the tights coil your core is winding into.
This appears to spur on Din as his pace increases and the bed rocks under the weight of your bodies. Your whines and moans become higher pitched as your orgasm approaches rapidly. Thrusts become more erratic and you know that he is close as well when your back arches off the bed to meet his above you as the coil snaps. Your quickly feel Din cum inside with the fervor of a much younger man.
Hands release your throat and wrists and you feel Din remove himself and lay down next to you. You hear him start to pick up the helmet to put it back on before you protest.
“Please don’t just yet, let me keep this on for you”
Silence stretches through the room before a hand rests on the side of your face and his lips press to yours.
“Stay here tonight?”
The question comes as a shock to you from the normally stoic Mandalorian. A small smirk fell on your lips.
thank you ao3 for being an archive and not an algorithm. thank you for letting me like things without consequences, thank you for being free with no ads, thank you for having lawyers to defend our freedom of speech. thank you tag wranglers. thank you to all authors and thank you ao3
you asked to send in any 12 requests i had so… got anything for professor!12 and student!reader. i’m so down bad for him and the fact he can lecture makes him 100x hotter. anything with that man in an academic setting really lol <3
I absolutely love this idea! This is such a hot concept lol. I also think if you like this and this kind of prompt you should go check out the Teacher’s pet series on @anteroom-of-death ‘s blog. :)
After Hours - 12th Doctor x Reader
Professor!12th doctor x Fem!Student!Reader
Summary: You are late for class and the doctor ushers you into the office for a proper discussion about your behavior. His consequences aren’t exactly what you expected ;)
Warnings: Smut, minor DNI, degrading, rough, hair pulling, dominance, inappropriate student/teacher relationship, all characters of legal age, light choking (if you squint), unprotected sex
Author Note: Holy god I’m so sorry this took forever and a half, I went from final exams to being in the hospital to having a family member in the hospital. Trying my best and writing is good for the soul. Hope you like it after waiting so long!
The bell rings as you frantically run down the corridor and B-line for your next class. This was always your favorite lecture of the day. The professor was a mysterious older man who only went by ‘The Doctor’. You don’t even remember what the class was supposed to be about, but whatever tangent he went on you always hung onto every word.
You come to the door of the room and hear his thick Scottish accent on the other side of it as you try to slip into the back of the class. You usually sit right at the front so you can be as close to the knowledge as you can get, but you really didn’t want to be noticed being late.
He suddenly stops speaking and looks up in the direction you were sitting. Your heart drops to your stomach as you looks straight in your direction.
“What’s the excuse?”
You freeze. You can’t tell if he is talking to you or if this is an extension of his rant, but from the way his eyes bore into yours, you think the former is probably correct.
“Overslept? Alarm didn’t go off? Dog ate your homework?”
His voice carries to the back of the room as the other classmates giggle a little at his last example.
“I’m sorry, sir” You say, barely loud enough for your voice to carry back down to him.
“Or better yet, can’t even come up with an excuse!”
The class starts to giggle again.
“Come sit where you usually do, Ms. L/n.” He says, gesturing to the empty seat you sit in daily. “And don’t let this happen again”
The tone in his voice is calm, but serious. A far cry from the wonder and lightheartedness he uses in his daily lectures. The command emanating from him takes you by surprise, but another feeling arises as well. One you push far down and ignore with every ounce of control you have.
You grab your book bag and do the walk of shame down the stairs of the big auditorium-like classroom and sit in your usual, much closer seat. This gives him ample oppurtunity to glare at you throughout the following afternoon’s lectures. Let’s just hope the flush on your cheeks from the embarrassment of the situation will be the worst part of this.
~~~
The rest of the lecture seemed to go off without a hitch. Attempting to hang on to his every word as you usually did resulted in your mind wandering and ending up on the embarrassing events of the morning. A blush creeps over your neck and cheeks as you reminisce on the utter humiliation you felt. You never wanted your favorite professor to see you as not competent enough and it burned in your memory.
You were entranced by the lecture, ignoring his pointed glances and finally getting past your internal reenactment of the moment when the bell rang out, breaking the spell of The Doctor’s words.
“Ms. L/n” You hear ring out from the front of the room.
Your heart drops.
“Meet me in my office.” He says. It sounds like he meant it lightheartedly, but something in your gut tells you there is something else to it.
You grab your book bag and your water bottle and make your way up the auditorium stairs and down the hall to his office as quick as your legs could take you.
The large mahogany door seemed heavier than usually as you forced it open to enter the office. The doctor walks behind the large desk in the corner and drops his belonging next to it. Leaning on the desk, he slides his hands over his face with a heavy sigh.
“Come up with an excuse yet, Ms. L/n?” The Scottish voice had a low timbre and dripped like honey when he said your name.
“No sir, I just didn’t quite-“
“Enough.”
The pure command in his voice made you freeze in your tracks. Walls of the office felt like they were closing in on you. Despite the anxiousness, your heart hammered against your chest with intrigue at his change in demeanor. His eyes had a different glint thanhis normal curiosity and seemed as if a storm was brewing behind them. You’ve gotten to know your professor quite well over the semester, with many debates over topics you found fascinating outside of class, but this seems more consequential. Darker. Powerful. Calculated, but almost holding back.
“Come here”
Breath died where it laid in your lungs as you watch him gesture to where he is standing behind the desk. You walk slowly, your heeled boots clacking on the hard floor as you approach the desk. He leads you by the wrist to look at what is on his desk, a copy of the syllabus open to the attendance policy.
“Read it”
Shock registers, and you turn to look at him. “What?”
“Read. It.”
The doctor presses his palm to your back and pushes lightly to where your torso is flat over the desk. Suddenly aware of his presence behind you, you lay your palms on either side of the paper and begin the read.
“Regular attendance is expected for all class sessions-“
Smack
“Louder.”
His hand reaches into your hair, pulling your head back toward him. Your heart jumps in your throat and your mouth hangs agape. The only thing alerting you to what just happened is the sting on your behind. Rather in shock or out of pleasure, you continue.
“T- tardiness-“
Smack
”Don’t stutter.”
The sting finally registered and a sound almost escaped your lips. His tone was unreadable. Neither angry nor lustful, his timber was indecipherable.
“Tardiness extending beyond 15 minutes will be counted as an unexcused absence.”
“Good Ms. L/N, keep going”
Your heart jumped into your throat and the praise was sent directly to your core, not unlike the strikes he delivered earlier. You could feel him closer behind you now, his warm body pressed against the fabric of your skirt.
“Oversleeping and lack of transportation are not valid excuses”
“Can’t use those, now can you Ms. L/N?”
The professor’s hands felt rough against the skin of your thigh as it grazed its way up to begin to lift the pleated cotton of your skirt. Breath came in quick pants as arousal flooded your senses.
“Consequences for chronic absenteeism include suspension or removal from the course in its entirety” You conclude, finishing the tardy section of the syllabus.
“So I return to my question…” Swift fingers slide across the slick fabric of your underwear, drawing an involuntary noise from your throat. “What is your excuse?”
“I don’t- I don’t have one”
“No?” The condescending tone slides over your mind as he traces your clit over thin fabric.
Suddenly a long thin finger slides into you, eliciting a full moan from your throat.
“Cat got your tongue?”
A second finger joins the first. The stretch feels absolutely delicious.
“So eager, I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into you then, love”
You barely register his deep Scottish timbre before you are flipped over and laid down, back flat on the desk. The underwear the doctor worked his way into suddenly lays torn on the floor as the skirt you wear is hiked up over your thighs. Following quickly is your shirt and bra, hurriedly hiked over your breasts. Rough palms cover your tits, pinching and pulling at your nipples. Moans pour out of your throat as pleasure arises. A hand leaves your breasts to pull down the fabric of the doctor’s dress pants, boxers following suit. He pulls his hands off you for a moment, pulling away leaving you cold from the temperature change.
“Are you sure this is alright?”
His tone seems genuinely concerned, like cold water has just been poured on his head and he’s woken up.
“Yes, professor”
“Call me that again”
His voice has some roughness back to it’s tone.
“Yes… professor”
“Oh, y/n” He practically growls, control snapping and using his hands to line himself up with your entrance. Slowly he enters you with a brutal stretch you wouldn’t trade for anything else in the world right now. Every inch of him hitting all sensitive spots within you. You see stars when he bottom out, pulsing around him with a fervor you didn’t know you possessed. He grabs your thighs and presses them back toward your torso, hitting an even more unimaginable angle and begins to thrust. His hips snap back and forth with the stamina of a much younger man. Eyes roll back into his head and he blindly reaches for you. The softness of your stomach, the feel of your tits, his rough hands grazing your nipples, one hand wrapping gently around your throat, and finally bruising kisses to your lips.
The pace he sets is brutal and his thrusts begin to falter. In a desperate attempt, his hands reach down between your bodies and frantically rub your clit. It takes little to send you over the edge, as your body gushes and squeezes his cock. The doctor and all his control slips and he spills into you with a groan and a few more thrusts to get you both through your highs.
He remains in you as you pant from your escapades. You feel a hands slide gently down your face, silently checking if you are okay after everything. Your foreheads collide together as you breathe heavily.
”Y/n?” The doctor says gently.
“Yes, Doctor?”
“Learn to make bullshit excuses”
“Not making one ended me up here, now didn’t it, professor?”
The fire lighting his eyes had you knowing you were in for it for the night.
do not trust a blog called Loki of stories. That are groomers who lie and bully on young people. Just a fair warning.
I was corrected on my interaction with them in another ask and i wish to stay out of whatever is going on there. This is not my drama and not my business. I would greatly appreciate this being the last time i have to address this. Thank you
dear lord, please take all life problems and responsibilities away from fanfic writers but also make them financially stable and happy with nothing to worry about so they can happily focus on writing and posting fanfiction. amen
Put me in your shopping cart and take me with you while you buy your groceries.. you dont have to buy me anything i'll just watch. But i wouldnt refuse a snack or a treat...
