Two Professors And A Student (Part 3)

Two professors and a student (Part 3)

Word count: 2700

Warnings: phone sex (kinda?), smut, masturbation, sex

It’s the first Monday of your winter break, and you’re back on campus. Rio had sent out an email to everyone in the course saying that if anyone wanted, she would be in her office all day so you could look at your graded exams. She hadn’t put the grades into your student portal yet, so your heart is pounding as you climb up the stairs to the science building.

From nerves, yes, but also at the prospect of seeing Rio again.

You hadn’t heard from her since the text Saturday morning, and yet, you had been able to think of little else. Thoughts of her and Agatha had plagued your mind all weekend and now you weren’t sure how to interact with Rio in an educational setting.

Should you bring up the dinner tomorrow night? Or just pretend that you were her student and nothing more?

What if there were other students from your class in her office right now? You sort of hope that’s the case and then you won’t have to stress about it.

But of course, when you knock on her office door and then push it open, it’s only Rio.

She’s sitting at her desk, looking expectantly at you, like she knew you would be coming.

“Hey,” you say, voice sounding more shaky than you intended.

“Y/n, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She asks, tone silky and suggestive. You gulp and take a few more steps in the office, not missing the way the door clicks shut behind you.

“I wanted to see my exam?” It comes out as a question instead of a statement. God, it’s almost embarrassing how much this woman affects you, especially after the other night.

“Of course you did,” Rio says smugly and stands up. She moves some papers around on her desk. Once she finds it, she holds it out to you so you’re forced to close the distance and take it from her.

Inhaling deeply, you chance a peek at the top and are pleasantly surprised to find a 97% scribbled on the paper. You exhale slowly and you can almost feel the tension seeping out of your body. All the effort you had put in had paid off.

You flip through the pages of the exam to see where you messed up. You’re so focused on reading her feedback that you don’t notice Rio has moved right behind you until you feel her hot breath on your neck.

You stiffen and you can feel goosebumps creep up your body.

“You did so well,” she says, practically whispering it into your ear. “Your attention to detail, the amount of care you put into your work, it’s impressive.”

“Thank you,” you manage to squeak, hands wrinkling the paper from how tight you’re holding onto it. Her fingers come up to lightly play with your hair and you’re having trouble reading the words on the paper. All you can think about is Rio.

“What do you think about going to Herb’s tomorrow night?” She murmurs. Herb’s is probably the fanciest steakhouse in town. You whirl around, startling when you realize just how close she actually is to you. Her lips (not that you’re looking) are probably three inches from yours. You can see the little specks of gold in her dark eyes.

“I couldn’t, that’s too much,” you protest, but she puts a finger to your mouth. You freeze.

“Agatha and I want to reward you for being such a good girl for us,” she says and a thrill runs through you. “That’s who you are, right?”

You think you’ve forgotten how to breathe. You nod ever so slightly, afraid to move too much since her finger still hasn’t left your mouth.

And then she grabs your chin with her hand, causing you to gasp at the sudden roughness, her thumb coming to stroke lightly at your bottom lip. You part your lips reflexively and she smirks, delighting in the obvious effect she has on you.

“Say it,” she urges.

“I’m your good girl,” you rasp, heat now flaring in your stomach. Her eyes are locked on yours and you can see desire clouding in them. You’re positive yours look the exact same. Her thumb swipes against your lip again, and this time, you flick your tongue out to brush against it. Her eyes flash and she opens her mouth to say something but there’s a knock on the door and you jump back from her.

Rio chuckles sardonically, tongue pushing against her inner cheek, and calls out, “Come in!”

A kid you’ve only seen once or twice in the entire semester pushes open the door and walks in.

“Um, well, thanks for this,” you say, flustered more than you’ve ever been in your life, and hand the test back to Rio.

“Professor Harkness is in her office, if you want to stop by and say hi,” she says casually and you don’t know how she is so composed. Is she telling you to go see her? Did Agatha ask to see you?

You wouldn’t be surprised now if they were counting on you coming to see Rio to see your test. If this whole thing had been planned.

But if anything, you feel like this is confirmation that they want you too.

“Okay,” you say, still a little breathless.

You take a moment to collect yourself once in the hallway again and then in almost a daze, walk to Agatha’s office.

You had spent so much time there in the semester earlier that you could map it with your eyes closed. And even now, when you haven’t been there in months, it still looks the exact same when you finally arrive and go inside.

Sitting at her desk, Agatha looks positively ecstatic that you’re there.

“Rio said–” you begin, but trail off because you’re not sure how to explain what just happened. You’re not sure if Agatha will be jealous. You awkwardly walk over and sit on the couch where you spent so many afternoons.

“How’d you do on her exam?” She asks, but from her grin, she clearly already knows.

“Really good,” you say. “I think better than I did on your final.”

Agatha pouts mockingly. “Trying harder to impress her more than me?”

“No! I don’t – no – that’s not –”

She laughs. “Sweetheart, I’m teasing.” She stands up and comes around to sit next to you on the couch. Her body is tilted towards you and her legs come up so her thigh is against yours. You bite back a gasp at the contact. “Did Rio talk to you about dinner tomorrow?”

You nod and try to contain the blush that is surely spreading on your face, but the memory of Rio calling you a good girl and tasting her thumb on your tongue makes that impossible. “Herb’s?”

“Have you been?” She perches her elbow on the side of the couch and rests her head in her hand, leaning in closer.

“No. It’s too fancy for a broke college student like me,” you answer in a lame attempt at a joke. “You guys really don’t have to take me there.”

Agatha’s other hand comes up to cup your cheek and rub her thumb against it. “Hon, you are so much more than that. And yes, we do. We want to. It’s been awhile since someone has caught our attention like this.”

Your breath hitches. “Like what?” You dare to whisper. You find yourself also leaning in closer and can’t help from glancing down at her lips.

She smirks. “Like this.”

And then she closes the gap and your eyes close in anticipation. But her lips stop when they’re a breath away from yours, maybe just to make sure you want this too. You want this more than life at this point, so you’re the one who makes the first real move and you kiss her. It’s featherlight, just a ghost of a kiss lasting mere seconds, but when you pull back, her normally-blue eyes are dark and hooded.

Her hand on your cheek tangles itself in your hair and she pulls you in to crash your mouths together in a bruising kiss.

You moan into her open mouth when her tongue parts your lips and licks against yours. Her fingers move to scrapple at your hips and you figure out what she wants so you maneuver yourself into her lap without breaking the kiss. Her hands slide under your shirt and just rest against your skin, but you have to pull away to throw your head back and moan at the hot contact. Agatha doesn’t hesitate before kissing down the side of your face and then down your neck. She sucks a bite into the juncture of your neck and shoulder and your hips cant in her lap.

“Fuck,” you gasp and her nails dig into your back. You drag her mouth back to yours, panting into the kiss. You can feel her losing composure as well when her teeth nip aggressively at your lower lip. It turns you on beyond words that you’re having this kind of effect on her.

“Well, would you look at this?” A voice says from the doorway and you jerk back so hard that you topple off Agatha’s lap and onto the couch. Fear spikes through your body as you look and–

–it’s Rio.

Part of you is relieved that it wasn’t anyone else, but then again, you were just caught making out with her girlfriend. Agatha doesn’t look worried at all, though. If anything, she looks proud of herself.

“I didn’t realize when I told you to come here I was giving you permission to whore yourself out,” Rio says cooly as she walks over to the couch.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and you scramble off the couch, smoothing your shirt down from where it had ridden up. Agatha rolls her eyes amusedly. “I’ll, um, see you guys tomorrow night?”

“Six pm, don’t be late,” Rio says, eyes burning into you as you scurry out of the office.

Your plan is to get to your dorm as fast as possible so you can touch yourself to the memory of the kiss, desperately needing to relieve the ache that has built up in you.

You haven’t even left the building though when your phone rings. You pull it out of your pocket and, much to your surprise, it’s Rio. Is she calling you to tell you to come back? To scold you?

You swipe to answer it and hesitantly lift your phone to your ear. “Hello?”

At first, you don’t hear anything specific, just some muffled sounds. You say something again, but you don’t hear either of them. Did Rio butt-dial you?

You’re about to hang up when you finally hear Rio. But she’s not talking to you.

“How was it?” She says. Her voice sounds far away. Is she asking about you?

“Fuck, Rio, it was so hot,” Agatha says. Your entire body tenses. They’re talking about you.

Your head starts to spin and you frantically look around for somewhere you can go.

“Yeah? It looked hot. She looked so good with her tongue in your mouth, Aggie.”

There’s a bathroom a few yards away. You duck into it and lock yourself in a stall. You’re not sure you could hold the phone any closer to your ear.

“I thought you were going to kiss her, too,” Agatha admits. “I wanted to watch.” Someone scoffs and you think it might be Rio.

“I would’ve earlier if one of my idiot students hadn’t interrupted. You should’ve seen her, so desperate for it.”

“Oh, I think I know what desperation looks like on her.” You can practically hear the smirk in Agatha’s voice and you blush. “And I know what it looks like on you, too.”

Another huff. There’s silence for a moment and you strain your ears so you don’t miss anything. And then there’s the faintest of sounds, almost like a smacking noise. Your eyes widen. Are they kissing?

“Can you taste her on me?” You hear Agatha mutter between breaths and you think you’re about to combust on the spot. You can’t resist from sliding a hand down your shorts and you gasp at how wet you are.

The sounds continue and you hear soft moaning, but you’re unable to distinguish who they’re coming from.

And then: “Get on the desk,” Agatha orders roughly. “I never thanked you properly for Saturday morning.” Rio chuckles breathlessly and you can hear things being cleared off the space.

You are completely overwhelmed now, by the knowledge that Rio had fucked her the morning after you had seen them (was the dinner invitation before or after?) and now Agatha’s about to return the favor.

And you are listening.

“Are you going to tell her about your dream?” Rio asks. You hear the sound of a belt buckle and a zipper.

“Should I?” Agatha retorts. “Do you think she could handle knowing I had such a good dream about the three of us that you had to take care of me in my sleep?”

You moan involuntarily and clamp a hand over your mouth. If they catch you listening there’s a chance they’ll hang up and you cannot take that risk.

“I think she could,” Rio says, words turning into a groan at the end of the sentence. You wonder if Agatha is touching her now. “I saw how much she needed you just now. I think she’d be a good girl and let us do whatever we wanted to her.”

You nod enthusiastically like they can see you.

“Fuck, Agatha,” Rio gasps and you think if you listen closely enough, you can hear her wetness. You slide a finger into yourself and mirror what you’re imagining Agatha doing.

“She is our good girl, isn’t she,” Agatha muses conversationally. You have to bite down your lip so you don’t make any other noises. “Can you picture her doing this to you? Making you feel good with her fingers?”

Your ring finger joins your middle finger to thrust into you and your thumb rubs at your clit. You are embarrassingly close after making out with Agatha and now this.

It seems like Rio is, too. “Yes, fuck, I want you both.” You can hear her breaths coming out short and fast and Agatha laughs.

“You both are so desperate. What am I going to do with you? I have some ideas.”

You almost beg to hear them. But Rio has that covered for you.

“Oh yeah?” She whimpers.

“I’m going to teach her how you like to be eaten out. How you like to be fucked. And then we’ll see if she’s as good of a learner in bed as she is in the classroom.” Rio’s moan is so loud it cuts out the next thing Agatha says. You can’t be mad though because her sounds are just as hot as Agatha’s words. “And then we’ll fuck her. She’ll look so pretty stretched around your fingers. With my tongue in her pussy.”

You taste blood from how hard you bite your lip after she says that. Your hips stutter and you are so close.

“Fuck, Agatha,” Rio swears. “I’m going to cum.”

“Yeah? Cum for me, Rio. And you too, sweetheart.” You can’t stop the gasp that falls from your lips when you register that Agatha is talking to you and hearing her say that sends you over the edge. Rio as well, from the sounds of it. Your orgasm is explosive, even though you’re fucking yourself in a college bathroom stall. You pant and rest your head against the wall, thoroughly ruined.

Your cheeks are flushed at being played like a fool. Of course they didn’t accidentally call you right before they just happened to have sex.

There’s movement from Rio and Agatha’s side and then Agatha’s voice close to the speaker. “You okay, honey?”

You cough to clear your throat. “Yeah,” you say weakly and they both chuckle.

“We’ll see you tomorrow night,” Rio says. “Wear something pretty for us.” And the call disconnects.

You laugh in disbelief. Fuck.

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Neuman’s Guard Dog (3/3)

summary: no better way to unwind after committing murder than getting absolutely destroyed by your morally grey girlfriend <3 god i wish that were me (minus the murder)

warnings: SMUT, fingering(r receiving), blood play (one small instance), fully clothed(victoria) x completely nude(r), fingering from behind, top Vic, alcohol ment. (red wine), proposal ment. , overstim, ment. of suicide (nothing serious), you could consider it angst if you feel so inclined, GENERAL ‘THE BOYS’ disclaimer

before you read: Reader is aware of Vic's blood powers. NOT aware of Vic's head explosions (ex. congress attack), relationship to Stan Edgar, The Boys (especially Hughie being involved). Sameer and Zoe do not exist in any of my AUs. Reader has been in life-threatening situations before, not a fan of them, but has been in at least two before.

A storm rages outside, its howling wind puts you on edge — something deep inside you stirs. Victoria senses your newly tensed state and rubs your shoulders.

“Why don’t I go get us some celebratory wine?” she chimes.

She takes your grin back at her as a ‘yes’ and starts downstairs. You stand and strip, the nightwear Victoria provided you is comfortable but it isn’t yours. The garments carry the weight of your temporary prison, a place you long to forget. You fold and set them on the dresser. Your girlfriend returns before you can open your pajama drawer.

Victoria stalks into the room, eyeing your nude body. She slinks up behind you and places an empty wine glass into your hand, you let out a sigh of satisfaction and lean back into her.

“Well now this is unfair,” you tease, “This is the second time today I’ve been completely naked while you’ve been in that damn suit.”

Victoria wraps her arms around your waist, one hand holds her own empty glass while the other holds the bottle of wine. She coos a fake apology into your ear. The scent of red wine lingers on her breath, you scoff and tap your empty cup.

“Double unfair!” you taunt.

Victoria laughs and raises the bottle to pour, you can’t see the roguish grin she wears behind you. She jerks her arm and the bottle tips, a stream of red wine splashes onto your chest and drizzles its way down your body. You gasp out and push her back jokingly.

“Oh! You so did that on purpose!” you accuse.

She laughs and sets the glass and bottle of the dresser before guiding you back against it.

“I did—“ she purrs, “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up.”

Victoria trails kisses from your collarbone to chest. She drags her tongue down the trail of wine. She kneels and places soft kisses at your stomach, leaving a smattering of lip prints as she makes her way down to your thighs. Vic laps at the wine droplets that have pooled on your inner thigh. Her licks and suckles are planned and precise, she’s toying with you. You bite down on your index finger, trying to compose yourself against her incessant teasing. Though, you’ve forgotten about your newly sharpened canines; a fang pricks the tip of your finger and a small droplet of blood starts to form.

“Ah-“ you wince and retreat back to your beside table to grab a tissue.

Victoria studies you curiously, she watches as a few drops dribble onto your palm. Slowly, she lurks beside you; practically purring in your ear as she raises your hand up to her lips. She licks across your palm before encasing your finger into her mouth, sucking on the wounded digit.

You gasp and an exhilarated chill runs through you. Her deep brown eyes meet yours as she pulls away. The corners of your mouth furl upward in astonishment.

“Fuck, Vicky….” you whimper.

“You know what’s unfair? Every part of you tastes so fucking good,” Victoria coos as she bends you down against the bed.

Her fingers rub in between your slightly spread legs. She mumbles praises under her breath as she watches how your body reacts. A moan of approval falls from her mouth when she pulls her fingers away, a sticky trail connects them to your core. Firm slaps against your ass causes pathetic sobs to spill from you. This display causes Victoria to purse her lips together in attempt to stifle a whimper. You feel her start to rub furiously at your clit. She slides two slender fingers into your sopping cunt and pumps with the same fervor from before.

You grab fistfuls of the bedsheet and bite down softly on your hand as Victoria fingers you from behind. Your attempts to self-control don’t go unnoticed.

“Awh, I don’t think so baby, don’t hide those pretty sounds — Hands behind your back” Victoria orders.

You obey and instantly Victoria locks your wrist together with her free hand. This position leaves you lying head first into the bed, your face is wet with your own tears and drool — Victoria wishes she could frame this view in her mind.

“Fuck-“ Victoria lays against you, pinning you down onto the bed. “You’re such a good girl,” she pants, “All mine.”

“Y-yes, yours… A-All yours! ” you stammer, “H-Hah… Fuck…”

Your brain feels fuzzy, like the static buzzing off of an old tv. Your body tremors, you’re about to reach your limit and all you can do is mewl and listen to Victoria’s moans flood your mind. She presses a sloppy kiss against your cheek and slides her free hand against your throat. She urges you to let go. You cry and spill into her palm, coating her fingers.

She rides out your high, relishing every twitch and whimper you produce. She smacks your cunt a few times, the wet slaps leave you in a trembling heap. The pathetic noises you make turn into choked croaks and she finally relents. You try to steady yourself, but your legs aren’t quite ready to support you yet. Victoria sprawls out on the bed, pulling you close to her, she has a thin layer of sweat on her forehead but the rest of her remains pristine. You’re a mess — Victoria strokes your hair and kisses your forehead anyways.

“You’re perfect,” she hums. “My perfect girl.”

Her fingers trail up and down your body. She takes in your figure and drowns in your half-lidded eyes. You look so fragile, sickeningly sweet.

“I really mean it,” she affirms, “If anyone hurts you, I’ll fucking kill them.” Her grip on you tightens slightly.

The statement reminds you of the incident at the hotel room. Your stomach stirs uncomfortably and you play with the hem of Victoria’s suit. You try and muster up the courage to speak your next words aloud.

“Hughie knows…” you trail off, “He saw me.” An imaginary news article flashes in your mind.

‘CIA Affiliate, Hughie Campbell, Found Dead

Suicide by two gunshots in the back of the head…’

The thought of your old friend being murdered by your girlfriend makes the hair on the back of your neck stand. Victoria still hasn’t responded.

“He helped me,” you blurt.

Anger boils in Victoria’s chest, she should have been the one to save you. She imagines the state he might have found you in and seethes. Would he use you against her? Expose your new power to the world to get back at her? He wouldn’t. Right?

“Vicky?” you whisper.

“He’s a good guy.” She states, “He wouldn’t do anything to harm you.”

“What about you?” you ask.

“You worry about me too much,” she teases.

She kisses you, mostly to get your mind off the topic at hand. She feels you start to melt into her, then she feels you fight against it. Her nails dig a little too hard into the flesh of your hips and you pull away from the kiss. She doesn’t acknowledge her roughness, instead she rises and pulls you up.

“We should really go to sleep,” she chides. “I’d like to get some sleep before the insanity of tomorrow…”

You nod and yawn, seemingly reminded of how tired you really are.

You grab a set of silk pajamas and head to the bathroom to do your nightly routine. Victoria follows suit. She opens her dresser drawer and grabs a nightgown; a small, sleek box stares back at her. It holds the engagement ring she’s bought for you, the black velvet void of the box calls to her — Do it, before it’s too late. She closes the drawer quickly and takes a deep breath before joining you in the bathroom.

Victoria will propose. She’ll tell the world about you; you deserve that. There are so many dirty secrets and she doesn’t want you to be one of them.

You fall asleep spooning her, your soft breath tickles her neck and lures her closer to slumber. But, there is an unrelenting, festering feeling in her stomach that won’t let her sleep. Her web of lies is caving in on itself and you’re tangled up in the middle. She reminds herself you are not hopeless prey curled up next to its killer; she will protect you.

The bloodied hotel room flashes in her mind — a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Her hand rests upon yours and she strokes the bare ring finger. Do it, before it’s too late.

<- previous page

authors note: omg it’s 5am and i finished this.. one very sleepy read through later… i’ll do a more focused clean up when i awaken. anyways i will be writing a sappy proposal fic me thinks… but im on a queen maeve kick rn so that’ll come later… PLS SUGGEST THINGS FOR ME TO WRITE in my ask box!! <3

fuel my writing -> tips or reblog,like,comment!

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whenlifegivesyoulemonsmake

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concept

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- on top of a hill - grinds their own coffee - sells pot brownies

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Watercolor Art And Prints By Jess Weymouth On Etsy

Watercolor Art and Prints by Jess Weymouth on Etsy

lgbt podcasts that deserve more attention in my gay opinion

please let me know if you want details about the lgbt+ representation in these, and feel free to add on :D

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spines podcast- horror/mystery about a woman who has scary dangerous powers and only remembers a fucked up ritual and information about her “friends” and who tries to figure out what she is and what happened to her and whats going on with certain sketchy orginizations

inkwyrm- scifi/romcom that is basically gays in space fashion magazine version. also includes a lot of cliche gay relationship drama that i live for

freed- soft apocolypse is the best way i can describe it. its a really sweet podcast about a badass lady who makes broadcasts about her progress fixing a mountain town. later on she makes friends that help her out and theres conspiracys and a lot gets revealed about the world. also my fave

junction series- drama/romance about 4 high school girls who try and start a podcast to find a girl who went missing but get really off track because they are all really gay for each other and have a lot of relationship drama

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oakpodcast- scifi/interactive podcast about an autistic jewish spy who gets stranded and becomes homeless and is forced to uncover the truth behind the bioweapon that she was exposed to

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whenlifegivesyoulemonsmake

7 months ago

lost in your fire | camille l'espanaye

Navigation | More Camille L'Espanaye | AO3

synopsis: When you survived the entire selection process to be Camille L'espanaye's new assistant, you certainly didn't expect to find this type of employment contract. You could bet your life that the worst thing that could happen to you would be a Miranda-Andrea type of employement. Good thing you didn't.

warnings: smut. strip tease. oral. fingering. degradation. praise. pussy slap. age gap. dom/sub. s&m. co workers. tw: use of 'needy pretty slut'. sugar mommy? that can tagged as abuse of power? prostituition? female!reader. gif: @azrphales

You never thought that graduating in journalism would be the answer to all your problems. It isn't an easy profession, nor is it respected or pays that much. You didn't expect your life to be perfect once you got your diploma.

But damn.

Horrible bosses, jobs that added nothing to your life, laughable salaries. Little free time, little rest, little leisure. Little of everything, except work and stress. Those were always a lot.

And all because you didn't have money. If you had been born into a wealthy family everything would be so different. So much better. Because you know you have talent and determination, what you lack is chance. Is luck. And anyone alive knows that luck is just another name for money.

So when you went to the job interview to be Camille L'espanaye's assistant, you weren't surprised that you did it well. You for sure were surprised to be chosen over someone with an established surname. Or that had a least already finished college. Someone older, experienced. But what surprised you more were the terms of contract.

You didn't know for sure if Camille L'espanaye had too much courage or just lacked the shame, but she was the one to give you the contract. Not someone from HR, not a group of lawyers that would speak for her, but the woman herself.

She did like it was just another thursday for her. Maybe for Camille it was.

You dropped the contract on her desk. "So you want a whore?"

Before that you were so polite. Even thought Camille barely looked into your face, you kept on that thankful-employer act. You said it would be a honor to work for her. But after reading that, nothing mattered anymore.

"I need an assistant," Camille didn't look up from her notebook. She was writing something, the way her fingers moved showed concern while her voice was uterly disinterest. She didn't look up from it since you entered her office. "Someone that I can trust to gather information, follow my orders, know when to speak up and when to shut up. But I also require certain things from my assistants."

"Do I look like a whore?"

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe it wasn't the lack of money or a renowed surname. Maybe all your rich colleagues got into great jobs while you rot was because... they are better for you. Maybe that's the only thing you are capable of: work on horrible places because others wouldn't be stupid enough to hire you.

Camille chose you because she wants to fuck you. Not because you are talented, competent, competitive. Not because of your writing, your morals, your desire to become something more. Camille saw you as a fuckable body with a pretty face and nothing more.

"It's not my problem to give a shit about your..."

"That was the reason I made till the finish line?" Camille was the one surprised now. Not only you interrupted her, but there was something on your voice. It sounded almost dissapointed. "Because you wanted to fuck me?"

Camille looked at you for the first time.

Her platinum hair moved along when she bent over the table, her face founding a support on her open hands. Camille was something. There was a fire on her eyes, a flame that just couldn't die.

When Camille L'espanaye looked at you, it burned.

She was more than the daughter of someone important. Camille was the very next best thing.

"I read your thesis. The gatekeep theory and it's changes during the last decade," Camille didn't look bored. Not anymore. "And I read your articles. Your blog. But you know what surprised me the most?"

You found difficult to open your mouth. "What?"

"Your empty curriculum," she laughed. You would have feel ofended, but she kept on talking. "You have talent, that's for sure, but no one noticed it yet. I know you're starving for a opportunity. Now all you need to do is chose: will you grab it, or will you spend the rest of your life hating whoever made the right decision?"

You glared at the paper. "That's not safe for me," you didn't realize you're were gaving in until you opened your mouth. That shocked you. To know that just a few words from Camille turned your no into a almost.

Camille noticed that too. "Item IX."

You thought she would say something more, but at the end you had to open the document again. Item IX was about... limits. Safewords, six different spreadsheets to be filled with your answers about anything related to sex, Camille's own boundaries, NDAs that protect the both of you.

You spend a few minutes in silence. Just thinking to yourself, trying to find a answer. Yes or no? You looked at Camille, and it startled you to see that she was glaring at you. She was so blasé, but her burning eyes showed you interest, curiosity.

Hunger.

You grabbed the pen in front of Camille's smartphone and signed where it was needed. You left the contract on her table, grabbed your purse and didn't looked back.

And what a shame. Because if you had, you would've see how Camille L'espanaye observed every step you gave.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Most of your time is spend with you running from one place to another, gathering information about anything that Camille think is troublesome. Making the right questions, tooking the right photos, knowing when to get out before people get upset.

If Camille senses that something stink, your job is to show her how much of shit is involved on it.

Except by your first day of work. That was unusual. It included getting measured for your uniform and an appointment with her hairdresser. You also run a few blood tests, consulted a gynecologist and signed documents in front of a scary lawyer.

But today was a calm day, and your feet were so grateful for it. It was the first time in two weeks that you could just sit still. Organizing Camille's agenda, confirming her presence on a few events and denying any request for a interview, you took your heels off.

That's the thing about news channels and saturdays: everyone that makes things interesting are too busy enjoying their day off. Normally you are one of those people, but Camille needed you here today.

The phone rang, and she didn't even gave you the time to answer. "My office. Now."

Your heels announced your presence. White dresses, gold earrings and black heels: that was your uniform meanwhile the real one was being made.

Camille was paying attention to her phone, tipping as fast as humanly possible, when you entered her office. Everything was black and white, just like your clothes. "Open it," Camille murmured gesturing towards a golden box on her table.

You got near it, leaving your table beside the box, and opened. Inside it you found the reason why you're working today. Your uniform was there.

Camille clearly can have anything she want, all she needs to do is open her mouth. But there is no way she could speed up a sewing process. Not without getting bad clothes.

You took it from inside the box and notice how it looked just like those school's uniforms that appear on series about rich people. It was soft, warm, and beautiful. There was also a pair of new, black shoes.

She really wanted you to look young.

"And... done," Camille closed her eyes, and passed her fingers throught her hair. It must have been a really stressing conversation. "Now put it on."

"Alright," you put everything inside the box ans took it on your arms, going to the bathroom at the end of the corridor. But before you could made to the door, Camille's voice stopped you.

"Do it here."

Camille demanding you to get dresses in front of her should have make you want to vomit. You shouldn't want that, or her, or that fucking job.

But you do. Fuck, you want that.

Camille told you to grab the opportunity. She show you that it wouldn't wait for you. And it was the right choice. Not only your payment is really good, but she is also paying your college debt as a act of encoragment — her words. Working for Camille will open so many doors for you, and those that won't you can open with her money.

And all she's asking is for you to fuck her.

You fucked girls for free, and none of them were directly responsible for you buying a new car. Why not put a price on your body? Camille is willing to pay it.

It helps that she's hot as fuck.

So you put the box on a couch and gave her the show she wanted. You started just taking off your earrings and necklace. Then you opened the ziper of your dress, slow enough to make her sigh. You let it slid of your body, revealing that you wore nothing bellow it.

You twirl the dress on your fingers, then throw it at her. It feel right beside Camille's phone. Once more her facade broke a bit, her smile way closer to a laugh then to a smirk.

As you put on your new clothes, you gave her a little spin. "Come here," was all Camille said.

You licked your lips and walked towards her. Right in front of Camille, you felt her eyes analizing every single detail of you. She gave you smirk.

"Kneel for me," she ordered. You did as she wanted, your heels digging on the skin of your feet. "Now use your mouth. Prove me your worth."

Camille opened her legs, the dress went up her tights and revealed her black thong. You touched her skin, your fingertips just brushing against her knees and thights. You slid them across her covered pussy, a touch so delicate it felt like a ghost.

Looking into Camille's burning eyes, you put her thong aside and revealed herself to you.

From then on, you were nothing but a starving woman.

Camille held on by your hair. She wasn't delicate. She just grabbed you, almost like you would run away. How could you ever do that? Not with her being so sweet. Not with her lips so warm against your lips.

"Fuck," she whispered. Her incoerent words showed that you were doing a good job. "Just like that."

You looked up, and then you saw Camille looking deep into your eyes. It made you go even harder on her, totally focused on making Camille reach heaven.

"What a pretty thing you are," Camille moaned. Her hand, before pulling your hair with no regards, now carressed your cheeks. "You're such a needy pretty slut, aren't you? My fucktoy."

You moaned against her dripping pussy, drunk on her arousal, and felt Camille shaking bellow you. She's so blasé, so colected, but now you saw her breaking bit by bit.

More confident, you grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer to you. Your tongue brushed against her sensitive clit, your fingers spread her pussy from inside. The sounds she made were the prettiest song you ever heard.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Camille couldn't stop screaming. That all put together bussinesswoman you meet were long gone. She was just a woman in need of a helping hand. "I'm 'bout to, oh god..."

Your felt her melting against you, her legs trembling against your arms. You stopped when her body collapsed against her armchair.

"Get up," she murmured. This time not out of disinterest, but because she was lost on her own pleasure.

Standing, you turned your back to her so you could get your things and leave. But before you could walk away, two hands grabbed you by your waist.

Camille, standing before you, caressed your skin. "Where are you going?" She bit your shoulder, and her teeths dig on your skin. It wasn't delicate, but it was good. "Already running away from me?"

"I thought you were done," you whispered. Her taste was still on your mouth. So sweet it could give you toothaches.

Camille kept on bitting your neck, licking it right after, until she made to your ear. "I'm not done with you," she whispered, and you didn't knew if she was mocking you.

"Sit on my table," she slapped your ass when you moved. "Open your legs." She once slapped you, but this time on your pussy.

The moan that escaped you made Camille force herself against your mouth. She tasted herself on you, but she also felt the taste of your lipstick. Camille licked your lips, trying to get more of you, then went back to explore your mouth.

Her fingers played with your lips, so wet for her, and entered on your tight pussy. So warm, so made for her. Camille curved her fingers, and you held into her. "Just like that," you moaned. "Please, just..."

Camille went harder, so hard you knew that it would hurt the other day, but you didn't care. Camille could hurt you however she wants, as long as she keep on making you feel like that.

"Be a good bitch and cum on my fingers," Camille grabbed you by the chin. That made you open your mouth, and Camille noticed the way your lips covered on her saliva shone. "Show me your tongue."

Camille spat on it, and you gadly took it. You blinked to her.

"Fuck," Camille fingered you as she pinched your clit. You were so close. "You really have a talent for that, don't you? Thinking about making you mine. Chain you to my bed so I can use you whenever I want."

"Do it," you whimpered against her lips.

She spread her fingers inside you. You gasped, your body chocking against her. You couldn't think, you couldn't see, all you did was moan as you came.

Camille continued until you were too sensitive to take it. She licked her lips, now addicted to your taste, and stepped away from you.

She took off her thong and thrown it at you. Camille moved your body, taking her phone right behind you, and sat on her armchair. You breath as you watched her go back to work, but you also smiled when you noticed her trembling feet.

"Cover yourself," Camille started. "Clean my agenda for tomorrow, scheduled a meeting Pym and find someone that make a coffee that doesn't suck like yours."

"But you swallow," you murmured as you put on her thong. It was wet from her arousal and your spit.

"What did you just said?"

"You heard me," you took your tablet and didn't gave her time before you walked away.

Camille L'espanaye observed every step you gave. When you were gone, she throw her phone away and closed her eyes.

"I am so fucked," Camille whispered to herself.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

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whenlifegivesyoulemonsmake

7 years ago

my parents aren’t teaching me life lessons.

#i need some adults to TEACH ME SHIT ABOUT LIFE

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whenlifegivesyoulemonsmake

7 years ago

OTP Prompt 242

“Look, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“I just asked if you’ve ever played monopoly..?”

“You can’t just bring up my repressed war memories, that’s rude.”

“….. it’s….. a board…. game?”

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whenlifegivesyoulemonsmake

7 years ago

I am following the gay agenda to the letter then 😀

The gay agenda is coming out and 5 years later randomly getting put into a dnd group with your queer friends and becoming unexpectedly invested into the fantasy genre at the age of 22

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