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xerotiny · 11 months ago

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Antiserum D // Loving Professor Jeong #1

Antiserum D (Loving Professor Jeong series #1) Professor/College au.

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x (f) Reader [ft. Choi San & Song Mingi]

Warning: smut, prof!yunho, dom!yunho, sub!reader, student!reader, age gap, teasing and suggestive actions, size kink, big dick Yunho, dirty talk and pet names (master and pup), blowjob/throat fucking, spanking, rough sex, unprotected sex, edging, creampie and dacryphilia.

Note: do not proceed if you're uncomfortable or triggered by the mentioned tags. Also note the age gap tag, here the reader is 21 and Yunho is 32, which makes it 11 years of gap.

Side Note: this series will contain 'hyung line' as the professors and the 'maknae line' as minor characters; except for Choi San and Song Mingi, these men are cheeky so look out for them. Again, as my other series, 'the reader' does have a name, i.e, Lee Sherri. Nicknames are bound to follow, so don't worry. I only write names in my oneshots because it's too annoying to write [y/n] everywhere and it ruins my flow of writing. Anyway, enjoy!

Gist: you had a rival in college, yes you did. It wasn't a student, rather the person you hold your grudges against is one of your professors. Now, you're in your senior year of bachelor's degree, running late for a morning class—knowing well he takes this class, what do you think the consequences would be?

Word Count: 12,164

'My dog died.'

No, you don't have a pet!

'My bus was late.'

You live on-campus.

'The coffee shop was crowded.'

You don't freaking have a cup in your hand!

'Umm, I overslept.'

Well, he doesn't need to know the truth.

He really doesn't need to know the truth to why you were running late to his morning class. As time would have it, you did oversleep; lethargic from last night's meaningless meandering from bar to bar, in search of your sober soul, you surely had forgotten about your morning class the next day. Weekends are supposed to be lax and diverting. They're your only shot at having a good time with your friends. You weren't going to let your fear of being reprimanded by your 'favourite' professor stop you from having the fun you deserved. The weekdays were long, tedious and dull with all the lectures and practical sessions to attend.

You're sprinting up the stairs to get to your department; the science building is supposedly long and encompasses all other departments falling into it. Your department (zoology), moreover, your class was situated on the second level of the building. Meeting with the long hallway on your way, which apparently was the physics department, you turn a corner and are merged with another long hallway leading to yours. The grotesque stench of formaldehyde hits your nose the moment you walk past the junior laboratories of your department; that's where they were trying to preserve biological specimens, the 'tingle-your-spine' kind. There are lecture halls and laboratories on one side of the long hallway, while the other side was an open space with concrete railings and pillars; this space opened into the botanical garden the botany department had been tending to, so it housed large trees, a decent number of shrubs and flowering plants, including a variety of cactus and other succulents.

Rushing in your steps, holding your tote bag close to you, your eyes scramble past the open space and the garden onto the walking street of your campus; it was borne with trees on both sides, and amidst the thicket of greenery you find the main building of psychology department. You almost heave out a laugh, reminiscing of the last night when your best friend (who studies psychology) was drunk out of his mind and had been making out with a lamppost. You pull yourself out of that daze, increasing the pace of your sprint to get to your laboratory.

First red flag of your day, the doors to your lab were open wide. Second, your supposedly 'favourite' professor was midway through an explanation about the experiment you were going to perform today. And third, you were technically thirty minutes late to the lab.

Quiet on your feet, you try to sneak inside; the structure of your lab was a little different, with sitting desks on one side of it, and workbenches on the other. In retrospect, this was your senior year's class where apparent lectures took place, and the workbenches were designated for less involved experiments. At the very front of your class/lab is a podium, a chalky black board, and a desk for professor. You glance at the front after realising all students had occupied the workbenches, you catch up on the glimpse of Professor Jeong carrying on with his explanation till his eyes meet yours.

"Miss Lee," he grumbles, amidst his explanation, "sneaking in—" mumbling he checks the time on his wristwatch, the sleeve of his coat riding up, "—a total of thirty minutes late. You better have a good reason."

He folds his arms over his chest, and stares down at you. While you halt midstep into the class, standing straighter you clear your throat and feel your mind stutter looking at him. Why did he have to dress so provocatively? And the outfit in concern was his beige coat and matching pants, a white long sleeved turtleneck underneath; you didn't quite like how your heart was palpitating watching him, keenly grazing your thirst-filled eyes across his face, noticing the shine on his black rimmed glasses and the plumpness of his pink lips.

"Miss Lee?" he repeats, only to get you squeaking, "yes, professor—uh yeah, I was late because my alarm did not go off in the morning..."

He hums in contemplation, eyes narrowing on you before he sighs and shakes his head, "occupy one of the workbenches and do not touch anything before I tell you to."

You nod, pressing your lips tighter to prevent any sound from escaping your throat; you were certainly anxious and embarrassed to be late, but more precisely you were humiliated in front of your class for coming up with such a lame excuse. Sighing, you stuff your tote bag in your locker at the back. You quickly slip on a lab coat over your outfit, bubbling with disappointment as it was hiding your nubile outfit. Knowing you were running late, you still made extreme efforts to dress yourself up—the reason was quite overt, because you wanted to dress up for yourself—you wore a white blouse under a pastel blue sweater vest and paired it with grey skirt which rode up till your mid-thighs. The lacy thigh-high socks were just an added accessory to make yourself seem cute considering you also had a blue ribbon in your hair, holding it in a high ponytail.

The only workbench unoccupied is the one situated at the very end and far from either the professor's desk at the back near the lockers and the podium from where Professor Jeong was reading every movement of yours. When you get to your designated place, you glance at the workstation to take note of the apparatus, before glancing next to you, finding the most obnoxious person you could. Choi San, Choi freaking San was offering you a guileful smile, one whose intentions did not appear to be right, or even ethical.

Bastard.

"So, Miss Lee is late because she couldn't hear her alarm go off? Pathetic," he rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his chest, his own lab coat creasing by the elbows with his plaid shirt peeking from beneath. "I don't believe you—oh well, but I wonder what your favourite professor would think about you when he knows you were getting pissed drunk last night with your friends."

You weigh his words in your mind for a second before furling back a reply. "Aww, Sannie. If you're so desperate to get in my inner circle, just say so. I didn't know you would be so jealous of us..."

San's smile turns into a curve of amusement, "jealous of you? Me? Jealous?" he scoffs, "darling, you're dreaming. If I wanted to be in your inner circle, I would've just slept my way through it."

"Really now?" you retort, smiling softly, "slept with whom?"

"An easy prey to seduce would be you—" he clicks his tongue, "—if you can be so impressed by that..." he nods his head toward Professor Jeong, "...then I believe you'd be swept off your feet if I genuinely try to."

"You put yourself on such a high pedestal, Sannie," you muse, shaking your head lightly, "do you really think my standards are set so low to be dazzled by you?"

"Oh, only time would tell, Miss Lee," he rolls his eyes, keeping his sly smile on. "Maybe, you would get infatuated with me or give into your temptations."

"Ahh, such a dedicated wishful thinker you are," you snide, heaving a low chuckle, "the only thing I'm tempted to do is throw a chair in your fucking face—"

"Miss Lee!" you flinch in your skin, body spasming to the deep and coarse voice of the professor. Hesitant in yourself, you peek up to face him, finding him glaring at you without a twitch on his face. "You certainly are not going to pay attention to my class, then why waste my time? You're free to leave. I don't hold my students captive; the ones passionate about learning find a way to attend my class in any way they could."

Your cheeks heat up, turning a shade of faint cherry red; embarrassment licks your spine and head lowers itself, you won't forget this moment ever. San is busy staring at you, feeling a little guilty but of course he won't let you know that. Shortly after, you glance back at the professor, noticing him staring at you with his lips in a scowl and his eyes piercing through you. That alone, that look alone was enough for you to quiver in your shoes; his persona had always been the intimidating kind, the kind who is self-possessed and doesn't really bother himself with the rest of the world.

Professor Jeong wasn't fazed by anything, not even by the number of female students crushing on him in your department, rather in your class alone. He didn't acknowledge their stupefyingly sexual or overly sensual approaches, turned them down if he thought they were invading his privacy. You took that as a challenge; maybe, maybe not. Your rivalry with him wasn't because he was unapproachable or a forbidden fruit to taste, it was because he always found a way to rattle your senses and make you the fool.

You remember it as clear as a day, at the beginning of your senior year, the very first semester—attending his class on genetics, you were simply taken off by him and his way of speaking. His personality was homely, strict where it should be, however. Amidst his lecture, he caught you talking and joking around with your bench-mate and questioned you about the topic he was teaching.

"If you can yap useless things, then why don't you enlighten me with the working of gel electrophoresis, hmmm...?"

It stung. But not more than him adding, "I'm even surprised you could answer. Maybe you should focus yourself more on your academics than other things."

Other things? You realised he was making comments on your appearance, the way you were dressed, the way you had streaks of gold stitched in your hair, the way you always had playful make up on—he judged you based on that, and thus the profound feud between him and you began. After that, you would intentionally skip his classes and not make an effort to attend them; even the practical sessions, except for the mandatory ones where you would bite your tongue and listen to him demeaning your entire existence for not setting the microscope right.

"Alright, now that I'm done explaining the principle and bits of the procedure, you may follow the same with your partners; if you're muddled with any concern then heed my name." He announces out loud, stepping down from the podium.

You raise your head, further listening to his footsteps dither across the floor to the back of where another table had been put up for teachers' comfort. Though, that's what you thought. The mellow sound of his boots takes an unassuming turn to your row of workbenches, taking you off guard. You're trying to find the meaning behind his detour. Also, you had been oblivious from the start that this practical is supposed to be performed in pairs. And you had no one. Because you were late. Even the slow-witted and stolid transfer student, Reagan Keith had a partner; and her partner was San himself, something you definitely did not see coming.

"Miss Lee," Professor Jeong clears his throat, standing next to you, "I suppose you do not have a partner because of your tardiness, and I happened to pair all my students prior to you, which leaves me no choice but to perform this particular experiment with you. So now, take a brief look at the blackboard and what I've etched on it, try to understand it. Once done, we can surely proceed."

You nod, contemplating, biting your cheek, unable to comprehend the proximity between you two. The dense musk of his scent is wafting all your senses—the redolent scent of vanilla and cinnamon is a deadly concoction to drive you wild. His warmth is superficial, yet the kind which melts your mind with stupefying possibilities, just how he could be—you need to keep your thoughts clean and chaste. Still, you suppress your mind to a corner and peek at the blackboard, studying his neat hand etched on it. The title gave you the rough idea of what you're supposed to do.

'Determination of blood groups.'

Ahh, the title itself foretells the coming inevitable mishap is going to involve blood and blood lancets; you aren't so fond of the needles—no, it wasn't a phobia, you weren't fond of pricking yourself with the help of those lancets. The blue rounded capsules which compassed a sterile needle underneath was beyond torturous to you.

You heave out a deep breath, understanding the further procedure he had inscribed on the blackboard. Familiar with few terms, such as the usage of antiserums, and principle behind the entire procedure, you were relieved. Way more than relieved to know this wasn't something out of your expertise. The nurturing thought of you actually explaining it to him however was too heavy to bear. You clear your throat, fumbling in your words as you dart your eyes anywhere else but at him.

"Yes, Miss Lee, are you done gandering at the procedure?" he gawks, bewildered as if and continues, "now, please enlighten me with the steps so as to we can proceed with the experiment."

"We—we are determining the blood—blood groups," you stutter, not knowing where that came from, you turn your attention onto him, stifling a gasp upon noticing him leaning close to you.

"Go on, Miss Lee," he prompts you with a soft nudge of his head. "I'm sure having to palaver about for the entire day, you could at least narrate the steps to me. All I need is your guidance."

He's playing you again.

"Alright, I will—" your breath hitches in your throat—you witness him effortlessly shrug his coat off, revealing nothing of his skin but the long-sleeved turtleneck he wore under.

"Hmhm, yes...?" he instigates, putting his coat off to a side while he rolls the sleeves of shirt over till his elbows. "What's the first step?"

"Sterilisation." you mutter under your breath.

"Sterilisation of what, Miss Lee?" he teases, keeping a straight; his pushes his glasses further up his nose, which had apparently slipped off a bit.

"Sterilisation of the subject area."

"Okay, tell me which area is most suitable for this test?"

You nod, swallowing thickly as your eyes never leave his. "The tip of the middle finger."

You weren't going to waver, not even when his soft brown eyes were speaking the unbearable at the moment; how can he do that? How can he momentarily torment you with a sly curve of his lips or by the detrimental facade of his eyes?

"And why is that?"

"Tendon sheath—uh, the middle finger has tendon sheath which only limits it to the fingers; as for the thumb and pinky finger, the sheath extends a little further to radial bursae and ulnar bursae—so in case any infection occurs it'll be restricted to the middle finger unlike the thumb or pinky which can lead to the heart." You try your best to explain, forgetting how to breathe in the process.

"You know your stuff," he murmurs, his voice low and cold, "do you see any sterilisation pads on your table?"

Looking around your desk, almost immediately, your eyes lurk on a beaker full of 70% ethanol and cotton swabs. You bring the beaker close to you and reach out for the forceps placed next to it; extending the beaker toward to him, you clear your throat, hoping he'd get on the cue.

"Miss Lee, I'd very much appreciate if you were to perform all the steps involving this practical."

"Right—okay, so..."

You drag your words into a whisper, holding the palm of his hand in yours, while other picks out a cotton swab with the forceps. The piece of cotton rolls to and fro on his skin, rubbing gently. Hearing him wince at the cooling sensation of ethanol against his skin, you stifle a chuckle and let out a sigh; once you were done with sterilising, you reach out for the blood lancets. Picking out one, you rip the cap off to reveal a sterling needle shining with a sharp point.

"Have you done this before, Miss Lee?" he questions as he watches you hesitate with the blood lancet. "Pricking yourself is quite different from pricking others, isn't it?"

You nod because you knew how different it was. In actuality, you're scared. You always were terrified to prick yourself with the needle whenever you were required to and it was mostly during your practical classes involving forensics. The high possibility of piercing your professor's skin, past the point till where it's necessary, was an untold fear you couldn't overcome. But, as you glance up at his docile face adorning an encouraging smile, in addition to the haughty glint in his eyes, you are much more prepared for the consequences.

"I am absolutely terrified when it comes to pricking myself—what if I..." your glance at his hand, then dart your eyes to his, feeling a breath hitch in your throat.

"You won't hurt me," he reassures you, later on compelling you with his words, "any day now, Miss Lee."

The racking nerve in your head forces you to take a deep breath and you're hauling the pointed tip of the lancet close to his finger. You know it takes one sudden nick to break the skin, and you also know you're supposed to be careful and swift with it. Hesitation breaks your conscience, you're still in two minds, still wondering if this was a good idea. Regardless of your abrupt cold feet, you let the lancet pierce through his skin, drawing out a ceaseless stream of blood; Professor Jeong is heedful of his bleeding finger and proceeds to make three blobs of blood on a microscope slide.

He puts the slide back, the glass clinks against the table but it melts into your thoughts—you were ogling him. You notice his veiny hand trembling softly to the unbridled tremors from the cut on his finger, it was attractive. You wouldn't mind admitting it, he has great hands—and sadly, you had a fetish. Trapping your lower lip between your teeth, you admire the little things about him; the proximity faltered to nothing, gave away how spotless his skin was, how sublimely luscious his lips were, and how the tiny specks of green in his eyes were far too evident in the sea of umber. Though, his hands were all you could think about; his porcelain skin, the bulging veins wrapped around his knuckles while they branched further down his hand—uff.

"Miss Lee?" he calls out, snapping his other finger, "please pass me a cotton swab, I need to clean myself."

You were brought back to the reality, seamless kind, a little vapid where you were impelled to keep a safe and healthy 'professor-student' relationship with him.

Hold up!

Where in the world did that come from?

The thought of having something more than 'professor-student' relationship with him.

You and him?

That's a little...

Far-fetched.

Unless...

There was...

There was a way to vex him.

You look back to all the times he's devalued your existence during his classes. The haughty remarks which rolled off his tongue with so much ease to belittle your short-lived efforts in any of his class, or perhaps, in any of the activities your department would plan. A spark in your mind strikes you in a way you couldn't quite explain, but you know you're finding yourself tighten your grip on his wrist. It's oddly satisfying, it's benign in your mind—though, the tiny bulb of tease was going on and off every second you spent staring at him.

There goes nothing.

Without hesitating you bring his hand close to your mouth, your tongue darts out the minute his bleeding finger finds its way in your sight, and you lick up a stripe to clean the blood off his finger. You hear him gasp, a sharp intake of breath which already told you he was bothered by your actions. Continuing to the rhythm of your heart, you wrap your lips around the tip of his finger and give it a soft suckle. Soon, a metallic copper taste slides on your tongue. Such an eerie sight to witness, by your professors and the others too. Especially the spawn of devil who was too busy charming the ditzy transfer student off her feet; if San catches you being this 'type' of friendly with the professor you 'slightly' resent then you probably could never show your face to anyone on the surface of earth. Luckily, San wasn't even sparing a glance at you.

"Miss—Miss Lee?" his voice breaks when he calls out to you again, prompting you to loosen your grip on his hand before you're letting it drop to his side.

"You were supposed to add antiserums to the slide, drop by drop. Now..." he takes a deep breath, noticing your glossy eyes and your plump lips parted; he's definitely resisting his urges. "The blood on the slide is almost..." He glances down at the table. "...it's almost dry. Miss Lee—" he leans in close to your ear, a coarse whisper sending a shiver down your spine, "—I'd like to see you after class."

"Maybe you can justify your actions then."

He leans back and takes a short gander around. Curling his lips up in a riveting smile, he nudges you with a nod. "Add the antiserums now, Miss Lee. All the others have finished performing the experiment."

You're out of your daze, rummaging your eyes around to find many of your classmates are done with their work and had gone to the other side of the lab, where the desks were.

"I'll be checking your practical sheets before you leave, so make sure you complete them all now." he announces out loud in the class, earning muffled groans from his students. "And no excuses."

"You too, Miss Lee," he turns to you, "now, if you will, you have to tell me my blood group. So, go on."

Again, pulling yourself out of the stupor, you nod profusely and proceed to the next step before the blood on your slide is completely dry. You add a drop of each antiserum on the three droplets of blood; waiting for a second, you watch the drop with antisera D and antisera A added begin to clot. To your conclusion, Professor Jeong's blood group is A+ve. All while you did the experiment, his eyes were fixed on you, fixated on your quivering hands and lips every time you tried to do something. In some instances of his mind, he was admiring you and your dedication, and how badly he had rocked your boat into capsizing.

"Good," he muses, his words turning bitter soon, "you sure can do a few things right. Well, all that's left to do is—" he grunts softly as he pulls the sleeves of his shirt back down, while he shrugs on his coat, "—cleaning and writing. Chop chop, Miss Lee. And do not forget you have to wait after class."

With those spine-chilling words he leaves you stranded to your spot; unfortunately, this time San had overheard your conversation. He slides next to you, eyeing your workstation before glancing over at you.

His lips push themselves out into a pout, and he grumbles, "fucked up something?"

"None of your business," you grit your teeth, "get away before I chop your balls off."

"Oh, I'm shivering," he deadpans, nudging his elbow with your ribs, "come on, Lee. Tell me. What did you do for him to ask you to wait after class? We both know he's never done it—in fact he hates it when someone waits after class to 'talk' to him." he emphasises with finger quotes, rolling his eyes at you. "You fucked up big time then."

You heave out a long sigh, "I—just, shut up, San. You're the most annoying person in my life."

Grumbling, you glance at Professor Jeong, he was sitting on his desk at the back of the class, by the lockers. His stare was on you. It was on you from the moment he sat down. And even though you may not know what he was thinking, or wondering about, the glimpse of him having his teeth scratching on his lower lip was enough to let you know what exactly he intended on doing with you.

"Don't drag it out on me," he mumbles, his pout still intact on his face, "although, you're denying the truth, which means you two had an anomalous interaction..."

As he trails off, you roll your eyes at him. Finding the courage to break your eye contact with Professor Jeong, you glare at San and bite your lip. "Yeah, he made me wait after class. It's pertaining to me being late. Now off you go, make yourself useful elsewhere. Maybe, help Reagan find the remaining of her skirt, pretty sure she left it back at her dorms."

San muses for a second before leaning over to stare at the said girl's skirt; she was standing by the lockers chattering with someone. His face twitches smugly, his brows creasing as he checks her out.

"Oh, no no! That does seem more important than dealing with you, Lee." he smirks, biting his lower lip, "see you around, try not to get too infatuated with your favourite professor."

Sauntering away from you, he loses his lab coat and then engages himself with Reagan. You project your frustrations into a sigh and begin cleaning your workbench before heading to the lockers to retrieve your bag and other items. Walking past the professor was a challenge in itself because you were too fazed in your mind by everything he did. Though, you could really say you were fuddled over his decision to make you wait after class. Anyone could tell you exactly how much he despised his students waiting after class, 'cause most of the times it would be the absurd number of female students trying to confess their feelings for him. You could sympathise with him, understand where he was coming from because you would find yourself in a similar situation; you were well sought to in your department, endless confessions, profuse gestures of affection, what not.

Regardless, you realised what you wanted in a man. It was the professor himself.

"Miss Lee, I need your practical journal completed." he speaks up as you're walking past his desk with your tote bag on your shoulder and your lab coat neatly folded in your hands. "You know what, I'll go through it after class. Till then, get your write-ups done."

Offering you a redolent smile, he tears his eyes off you. You swallow thickly, knowing well how ineptly stuck you were with him, after class too. And one more fact, your practical journal was incomplete—blank at the most, which was a catastrophe in the waiting. As the fear creeps up your spine, you bite your cheek and stumble onto an empty desk, settling yourself down to catch a breath.

Time passes in a haste, without bounds, and soon the moment you dreaded arrives with a tinkering bell on it. The class is empty, except for you and Professor Jeong. You could listen to him breathe, placidly whistle out a grumble a few times since he was busy with something you didn't feel the need to pay attention to. The clock on the wall ticks again and you're gathering your stuff before 'sneaking' out of the class. If his attention is solely saturated over something useless to you, then he probably won't even notice you gone.

At least that's what you thought.

"Miss Lee, I must remind you of our little parley where I asked you to wait after class." He doesn't even peek from the file he was reading, and continues, "don't think I can't see you sneaking away."

You stop in your steps, right in front of the open door with a few students lurking behind in the corridor. Stifling a groan, you roll your eyes and turn around on your feet. The man is sat poised in his chair, his lips curved in a smirk as he's staring right through you. Your heart skips a beat, yes too cliche, but you felt its arrhythmic vibrations ring your ears.

"Are there any students loitering in the corridor?" he questions and you nod to it, pressing your lips together. "Wait for them to leave and then lock the doors."

Why?

Lock the doors?

Why lock the doors?

Now your heart was pounding in that bony little cage of yours. Sooner or later, you would find it either in your throat or your guts that is if he continues to stare at you with the intensity of sun. Quite lost in the trance of his melancholic yet concupiscent eyes, you start nibbling on your lower lip, wanting to squeeze your thighs together to rid yourself of the tension you felt in your cunt. The chatters start dithering outside, ascending to the wind of nothing and it brings peace to your mind; not that it wasn't peaceful before, but now, it's just you and him caught in a void of infatuation.

"Do not take my intentions in the wrong way, Miss Lee. I am not so fond of disturbances during one-on-one student session..." he explains, going back to reading his file. Though, after a while he clears his throat and prompts you, "any moment now, Miss Lee."

"Yea—yeah," you stutter, sensing your throat close up.

Taking a step forward you close the latches on the door. The exhilaration of you being alone with him is sort of distorted in your head when you make your way towards his desk. What does he have in his mind? What does he want from you? Is this one of his many ways to make you feel small and little? Like all the times he does when you're attending his classes or so.

The look in his eyes has a spark of joy, just humming across the field of brown containing his pep. Those same eyes follow you around, till you're in front of him; his face shows no emotion, except for that straight line of his lips.

"Would you need an invitation, Miss Lee? Your binder, please." he asks, peeking up at through his long lashes and the black rimmed glasses. The glare on them makes it hard for you to read his eyes this time.

You clear your throat, and fumble with your bag to take the thick binder out. Pages furled out of it, a few flying off to fall on the ground, while a few remained stuck in amidst the others; you could tell Professor Jeong wasn't too happy with the condition of your binder. To be fair, this binder was your repository for all performed experiments so far. Nonetheless, your binder was...incomplete. Biting your lip, you place your binder on the table in front of him.

He eyes it for a moment before grabbing it in his hands and flipping the pages. You couldn't resist holding him on a high regard; his sleek fingers pinching the edges of the pages, turning them, eyes rummaging along the lines, and his parted lips which could tell he was contemplating.

"I certainly did not expect this from you, Miss Lee." he clicks his tongue, "now that I see it for myself, I can't help but agree with my initial remark about you. I would suggest you focus more on your academics rather than wasting your time with your friends and ambling through your life."

He sighs in defeat, mostly disappointment and slides your binder towards you across the table. Pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, he takes a deep breath and turns his head to you, his face expressing nothing at all.

"Life's not all about strolling through one club then to another. And while you do that, I can't sit back and watch you ruin your potential, Miss Lee," he sucks his teeth, as he continues to berate you with his words, "you're in the running for most proficient student in our department, alongside Mr. Choi. Now, would you be delighted to bear a consequence where he holds the trophy and not you? All because of what...? Some fiddling people you call your friends whose only job is to drag you out to buzzing clubs and what not."

Listening to him hound your existence, your heart suddenly weighs down in your chest, it grows heavy till it touches your gut. Oh no, you were letting it affect your state of mind. On the verge of tears, you look away from him and fixate your blurry vision on the floor; it was overbearing to hold his eyes, to wallow in the disappointment he held in them. Moreover, you didn't want him to see you cry, or shed a tear for that matter because you know you were close. Very close.

You sniffle softly, lowering your head furthermore to avoid to his gaze.

"Miss Lee?"

Silence.

You don't care for the concern his voice shows and continue to toil yourself on the contrasting hue of morning sun and the grey tiles. Blurry vision captures the indefinite shadows of lockers, some bookshelves—the sun was crawling overhead, witnessing your derision with your professor. You don't try to pay him any mind, not that you could even if you wanted to. There's a possible reason to why you don't want to, maybe the answer lies in your uncertain infatuation with him, or maybe it does prove your outlandish feelings for him. Which one of it was genuine?

A small moment passes between you two, roiling in tranquil haze before he clicks his tongue and drawls on a breath. "And to speak on your furtive behaviour—"

"Why do you hate me?"

A beat of serenity yanks his attention.

"What do you mean, Miss Lee?"

"I asked, why do you hate me so much?"

You glance up at him, preparing your unfazed mind for his reaction to your reddened cheeks and nose, and the obvious streaks of tears down your cheeks. The muscles on his face twitch even if it was indiscernible to the moment, you study him; he reveals a speck of pity in his eyes, so pathetic for you to think he'd pity you.

"Sherri?"

His lips quiver so delicately, calling out your name in a sleek yet coarse voice. It was the first time he'd ever called out your name, enunciated each syllable in his utmost trepidation as if he really cared for you. That alone was enough to cause a havoc in your heart, dwindling it further down to your...maybe it was the way he spoke your name out, but you were definitely feeling a spark strike in your pussy.

"I do not despise you, Sherri," he softly murmurs, looking away from you for a long minute before trailing his pitiful eyes back on you. "If my actions have made you—"

"—you always belittle me, humiliate me in front of the class and pretend to act as if you do it all because you care." you ramble, "you don't care about my feelings! All you can think is how to make me fall from my grace. Isn't it?"

You shake your head and bring your hands up to wipe your tears off, which had uncontrollably gushed out of your eyes while you had your meltdown. Your tote bag falls onto the floor with a soft thud, and you pay no mind to it. The hyperventilation soon kicks in, suffocating your lungs with a want to break free from your chest, and your stomach littered with unwanted butterflies fluttering along. More tears slide out of your eyes, and you lose your capability to see clearer.

The dainty streaks of torment on your cheeks, your tears, and your flushed face was a huge turn on for him; he could not probably free himself from his fetish, but his philia for tears or anything remotely close to it, always excited his cock. He shifts in his seat, spreading his legs apart under the desk to free himself from the strain in his pants. Oh how badly he had been aroused, by just watching you cry.

"Sherri, you're mistaking my concern for bullying; fuck! Why would I want to torment or humiliate you in front of the class?" he questions, such dainty voice breaking your heart and making you feel pathetic to sob in front of him.

"Come here."

He lures you in with his soft voice, and a frail tug of his lips; his smile had already proved to be devastating to you and even the slightest of it can make you, his puppet. Without realising it, you're taking short strides around the table to be by his side. He has his hand extended in front of you, something you didn't quite understand until you hold it in hesitation, and he pulls you down on his lap.

You gasp, and then yelp when you land on his lap; at first you find yourself uncomfortable in his embrace but giving it a little time, you relax and settle down, still with a bit of unease. His arms wrap themselves around your waist and he leans close to rest his chin on your shoulder as you sit sideways on his lap. Ambiguous swirls of darkness cover his eyes, and your breath hitches trying to unravel his true intentions. Instead, you were starting to get comfortable with him.

"I do not resent you for who you are, Sherri," he begins with a whispery breath, rubbing your back as he does. "I resent myself for being so helplessly bound under your spell."

Your lips part open, your chest heaves up and down erratically to constrain your wildly pounding heart. Oh, you were gone, you most definitely were.

"Projecting my bitter disposition on you was a mechanism I sought to cope my untamed desire—the ugly desire to taste this forbidden fruit." Mumbling, he turns his head and traces his lips along your neck, kissing and sucking. "Holy fuck, this body of yours...those lips, you don't know how much I crave them."

His hands tighten around your waist, and you gasp for air, "Professor Jeong, this isn't ethical. You're violating the university policy...ah!"

He bites down on your neck, grabbing enough flesh in between his teeth to suck on it. That's going to leave a pretty purple bruise behind, all in its glory, on your neck—so fucking attractive to you. Pressing down on a moan, you drag your hands to his shoulders, hoping to shove him off to disturb his grip on you. Though you thought. It wasn't easy to make him budge, he wasn't letting you go, and you were gradually falling into that realisation.

"I could lose my job," he whispers, chuckling softly, "I can fucking lose my job if I engage with you, if I make my vile thoughts a reality but I can't control myself any longer, I need you, I need to ruin you—I know you feel the same way about me. Don't you, Sherri?" he nibbles on your earlobe, his hot breath fanning your ear. "Aren't your intentions the same as me, huh?"

"No." you mumble.

"No?"

You shake your head.

He doesn't believe you.

"Sherri, oh you beautiful liar," he sighs, his lips now curling into a smirk, "didn't you think of something else when you were sucking my finger off, hmm?"

You pout, not wanting to answer or have him the satisfaction of being right; instead, you start shuffling on his lap to get out of his hold. Squirming in his lap, you press your butt against his crotch, accidentally touching his hardened cock. It continues to poke your ass, and his fingers dig into your skin when his hold tightens on your waist. You were making it worse, it was visible on his face in the form of quivering lips and shut eyes.

"Don't move...!" he warns you, pressing your lower body against his lap, keeping you fixed in one place. "You'll make me...fuck. You do this on purpose, don't you?"

You stop moving—well you had no choice but to when his brute strength was holding you down against him. "I don't. I haven't done anything on purpose."

Lying is so easy. But him believing it has to be easy too. Though at this point you knew you were teasing him.

"Sherri, don't lie." He peels his eyes open and takes a sharp breath in, "get on your knees."

You gulp. Knees? He wants you on your knees...? That's...really fucking hot.

Eagerly, you crawl out of his lap as he gives you the chance to, keeping his hands to his side. He repositions his chair in a way to face you, as you're kneeling down in front of him, by the side of the table. There's not much distance between you, and the dithered proximity makes your heart palpitate with anticipation.

What was he going to do?

Your mind raced with the possibilities. Was he going to shove his 'obvious' boner down your throat? Was he going to make you ride him? What was his hauntingly beautiful mind thinking about?

"An obedient teacher's pet, how adorable," he coos, stroking his hand over your head as if to pet you.

"Professor..."

"Shush...!" he leans over, closely watching you with his fervent eyes. Out of nowhere the warmth of his thumb engulfs of your cheek. "Not a sound."

Brushing his thumb across, he collects a drop of your tear and brings it close to his mouth. He wraps his lips around his thumb and gives it a good suck; his eyes intently fixed on yours, delineating his intentions. You nod your head and watch him straighten his back to relax against the chair. His eyes glance over at the door for a minor second before he fixes them back on you; with a lilting smirk, he grabs the wooden pointer stick from his table and slaps its tip on the palm of his other hand. The same hand rubs along the length of it until his forefinger traces the tip before holding it in his one hand.

You couldn't help but gulp again, feeling aroused by his hand, and the way it was pumping the stick to and fro. Lowering yourself on your calves, you try to squeeze your thighs together. You wanted to ease your muscles, wanted to rid yourself of the tightness in your cunt because you were beyond wet for him.

"Hands behind your back," he commands, and you oblige without hesitation. "I asked you to be on your knees for me..." he softly mutters, tapping the stick twice on the floor to get you back on your knees.

You do that too; completely unaware of his next move. He drags the stick from the ground to you, to the hem of your skirt and lifts it up—exposing your ruined panties to him.

"Tsk, wet already?" he heaves out a breath, "do I really affect you that much?"

"Yes," you swallow and mumble, "you do."

"Hmm," he muses, humming his words along later, "that makes me want you even more."

With his other hand he takes his glasses off and flings them on the table. He pushes the stick further up till your waist to completely expose your dripping wet panties and your cunt; he licks his lips at the sight, his instincts running wild in his mind. Your hands were perfectly slotted in the small of your back, tightly wound together to appease the tension.

"Ah..fuck," you groan when you feel the wooden stick rub your cunt; he had angled it in such a way that it kept your skirt from falling down and it also gave him enough access to drag it along your slit. "Please, professor, I want you."

Listening to you mewl, his smirk widens, and he slurs his words, "now you want me, Miss Lee? Un-fucking-believable."

He picks up his pace, letting the stick rub itself perfectly against your slit; your cunt clenches around nothing, aching to have something in between, something to fill you up. You writhe in desperation, shifting your weight from one leg to another. Unable to contain yourself, you start grinding yourself against the stick, upon noticing it, he halts his movements and watches you with amusement. Casing his lips into a pout, he traces his forefinger on his lower lip; he's contemplating, mirthfully watching you pleasure yourself on the stick. You bring both of your hands to the front, holding the stick to stabilise it before you increase the pace of hips grinding down.

"Aww, is my little brat getting excited?" he scoffs, shaking his head lightly.

You press your lips together and nod your head, closing your eyes shut to the budding pleasure crawling up your body. Second by second, your sanity shrinks to nothing, making you loosen your grip on the stick. From the corner of your half-lidded eye, you watch him offer you a conceited smile, clearing his intentions out when he pulls the stick from between your legs and slides it up to your chin. Tapping its tip twice to your chin, he gets your attention on him with your eyes wide in anticipation.

He spreads his legs wider in front of you, putting his cock on a glorious display as it tightens in his pants; the outline of his cock figuratively makes you swallow a thick gulp of air. Keeping your head high with the stick, he uses his other hand to palm his crotch, gently wrapping his fingers around his cock to give it a few half-hearted pumps through his pants. With a nudge of his head, he drops the stick to a side and gestures you to come close. Biting your tongue, you crawl towards him, your heart in your throat now. Maybe it was the anticipation, the eagerness to see him bare and under the griming influence of your pleasure, but you were slightly alarmed to find yourself slotted in between his legs.

"Let's get my brat what she wants," he whispers further shifting comfortably in his hair. "Such hungry eyes gawking at the sight of my cock," he grabs your jaw lightly and strokes his thumb under your chin. He tuts, "I get these looks a lot but there's something about you— something about the way you're drooling over my cock."

You let your teeth sink deep in your lower lip, while your lips twitch into a soft smile of amusement. "Am I turning you on, professor?"

You release your lip from your teeth's grip, and he watches it wobble in a daze while you lean close and place your hands on either of his thighs. Rubbing circles with your fingertips on his thighs, you take a deep breath to calm your nerves.

"If that wasn't the case you wouldn't be here, Miss Lee. Kneeling between my legs, ready to take my cock in your mouth, hmm?" he suggestively murmurs, dragging his thumb to your lips till he forces it in your mouth. "Now, open wide."

Using his other hand, he fumbles with the buckle of his belt. While he does manage to get it undone, you decide to suck on his thumb which was still fixed in your mouth; you lick around, blatantly ignoring his rugged skin. You hear him grunt ever so gently to your mouth wrapped around his thumb, tingling with excitement to know what it would be like to have this same warmth around his cock. Everything passes in a haze when he restlessly tugs down on his pants and briefs at the same time; you notice him take his thumb out of his mouth and instead he replaces it with his cock.

The reddened tip of his cock nudges against your lips and you open wide, lowering yourself down on his cock—though, only halfway considering his length would take you long to adjust to while the thick girth already made the corners of your mouth sting. He holds your neck, his fingers delicately splayed on the nape as he pushes you down, however he's mindful of you and how much you can take in. You start stroking the remaining of his shaft—which you would eventually have to swallow deep in your mouth.

"Fuck, you're driving me insane with your mouth, I might..." he trails his words off into a low groan, beginning to thrust himself into your mouth. "I'm not going to last long, am I?"

He taunts, digging his fingers into your skin as he pushes your head further down on his cock; his thrusts become too sloppy, and you don't pay much mind to it. You are too focused on widening your mouth around his cock to fit him fully inside. Feeling the tip of his cock brush against your throat, you almost gag; your throat tightens, and the suffocation starts sneaking up on you, but you push yourself through and sink lower on his cock.

"Fuck, such a good brat, taking me in so well," he whimpers coarsely, "but this little brat needs to be punished for making me break my rules."

You gaze up at him with your teary eyes, softening them as he looks down at you too. Nodding your head, you hollow your cheeks and bop your head up and down after adjusting to his size. Your fingers dig into his fleshy thighs, constraining your moans with his cock stuffed in your mouth, you keep staring up at him till a few drops of tears cascade down your cheeks. He brings his other hand to caress your cheeks, thumb stroking off the tears as he doesn't let go of your head. You're on the verge of gagging on his cock, choking even, but disregarding your gag reflex, he bucks his hips into your face and his cock slides further down your throat. Unable to hold onto your moans and whimpers, you try to make a sound—the vibrations send him reeling from pleasure, he throws his head back and tightens his hold on your neck.

"Can't make a sound because my cock is—your mouth is stuffed with my cock, isn't it?" he teases, closing his eyes shut to relish the wetness and warmth of your mouth. "Don't worry—I won't—I won't cum too soon. My brat deserves a little—a little bit of fun even if she's being pun—punished."

His stutter was absolutely beautiful, it showed how much of a mess he was with your mouth wrapped around his cock, engulfed in the devious warmth of it. Somehow, it gave you a sense of victory, a sense of peace to know you had gotten him on his edge with only your mouth and nothing else. The saltiness of his precum floods your mouth—it makes you retch a bit regardless of that, you continue sucking him off while his thrusts are slow and steady. In the meantime, he pulls his untucked shirt above till his chest and holds it there; he pushes your head further down on his cock, till your nose is pressed against his pubic bone and your skin feels ticklish from his trimmed pubic hair.

His chest is rising and falling at an alarming rate; he surely was a mess, and you liked seeing it. When you peek up at him with your still-teary eyes, you notice sweat covering his forehead, making his hair stick to his skin while his cheeks are flushed with a shade of red. How adorable. How fucking adorable. The ever so haughty and stoic professor was writhing under your touches, with how you lapped your tongue under his shaft and purposely sucked your cheeks in to make it tight.

In actuality, you were really driving him wild; his grip on your neck loosens a bit for a hot second and he uses that time to let his hand entangle in your hair. You didn't realise when you groped his thighs for support, even so, your nails had dug deep enough to leave behind crescent marks on his skin, the kind which would fluster with a brutal purple tint tomorrow. Grasping a proper hold on your hair, he pulls you back and frees his cock from his mouth; a vile 'pop' sound resounds in the room while he does so.

The moment his cock is out of your mouth, you gasp for air, you swallow huge lugs of air through your mouth and glance at him with dazed eyes. His thick and veiny cock was slick with your spit, shining softly under the lights while a few strings of your saliva still connected your lips and his shaft. Your drool had covered every inch of his cock and had also slithered down your chin. The sensation in your mouth was a little sticky and salty from his precum. You keep your mouth wide open and wipe off the drool using the back of your hand; he smugly chuckles, eyes on you like a predator.

"Need to take a break?" he taunts you, belittling your presence and you shake your head to a no. Leaning over, he cups your face in both of his hands and grazes his eyes along your chest and exposed thighs.

"Get up."

Again, his domineering voice forces you to oblige, and you get on your wobbly feet—feeling your throat sore and tight from his cock hitting constantly, you swallow enough amount of spit and try to wash the sting down. He notices it but doesn't say much. His hands slide down from your face and hold your waist as you stand in front him; without any doubt, he pushes your front against the desk and makes you bend over. One hand on the collar of your blouse, and other on the small of your back; he keeps you in that position while he takes his time to shimmy his pants and briefs down till his knees. He positions himself behind you, managing to push your skirt up on your back to expose your dripping wet panties and your cunt. Your wet panties were driving him wild; his breathing becomes even more ragged when he snaps at the waistband and pulls them down to your knees. He swallows thickly when his thirsty eyes lurk over your glistening wet cunt, clenching around nothing for the time being.

"This wet cunt is going to take in every inch of me...fuck," he curses his under his breath while he smoothens his hand on one of your buttcheeks. "But we can't forget about your punishment, can we?"

He flattens his palm against your ass, keeping you pressed against the desk with his hand on your neck; you whimper in anticipation and hold onto the edge of the desk till your knuckles turn while. Anticipation makes you wiggle your ass slightly, as you're on your tippy toes and perfectly bent over the desk.

"No, we can't," you heave out a shaky sigh, not able to control your excitement anymore. "How are you going to punish me, professor?"

You sneer in your seductive voice, slurring your words against your rounded lips to get a reaction out of him. Having your vision limited to the empty classroom and the workbenches, the exhilaration of not knowing what he was going to do, makes you even wetter.

Yunho knows how vile your mind is, he knows the wet patch on your panties continues to grow the more he teases you and honestly, he wasn't complaining. He liked it as much as you did, but he hid it well in his composed speech and relaxed movements.

"There's only one way to punish a brat like you," he grunts, slapping one of your buttcheeks, "count them."

So, you were getting spanked. Such a fitting punishment for a brat like you, by a professor too—why did it feel like you were trapped in a low-budget student-professor porn movie? You can't complain anyway, you were absolutely absorbed in the trance of your pleasure and his hands caressing your butt.

You nod and thus begins the punishment.

Slap!

"One," you mewl, feeling his hand burn on your skin.

Slap!

"Two," your breath hitches when you go to say it out loud, your skin stinging from his hand.

Slap!

"Thr—three!" you groan out loudly, the impact jolting your body against the top of the desk.

This one stung like a bitch.

Slap!

Without any warning, he adds one more spank to the same buttcheek before moving onto the other. He offers it a soft squeeze first, and then pulls his hand back and flattens his palm over it.

Slap!

"How many were those, huh?" he asks your mind fiddles with the remaining brain cells—how many were those? Really. How many?

"Si—six," you somehow manage to sputter, your spit falling on the desk in front of you.

"Good girl," he praises, rubbing his hand on your buttcheek before tracing it down to your folds. His fingers press and nudge against your folds until he rams one finger along your slit. Pushing down, wedging his finger deep inside, he watches your juices coat the length of his finger before he brings it to his nose to give it a good sniff. "I wonder if you're enjoying this punishment, pup. Are you? Are you enjoying this punishment...?"

First, your mind goes haywire when he teases you with that nickname. Pup. Well, you were turning out to be his pet, you might as well roll along with it.

Second, you were certainly enjoying the punishment, liking the way his hands were able to engulf your entire buttcheek at once.

Third, you're forced to slip out of your sanity when he aligns his cock with your hole and slowly sinks in. Your aroused juices proved helpful for him to slip right in. You suddenly start feeling full, the stretch of your walls subsiding into a soothing ache and then it sublimes completely into pleasure. Your desires were getting quenched; inch by inch your cunt swallows him whole, the burn on your walls now pacified by him. He doesn't move when he bottoms out, he keeps his cock sucked deep in you. Keeping one hand on the small of his back, he pushes your nimble body further against the desk—your back arches inwards and prodding your ass out for his easy access.

"Fuck, such a tight cunt. Got no one to loosen it out, Miss Lee?" he smirks, grunting at the way your walls clenched around him and remains unmoving. "Don't worry, I'll fuck it loose—fuck," you tighten around him listening to his wispy words, "do you want me to, huh, pup? Do you want me to fuck you loose?"

"Yeah—yeah, yeah I'd like that," you murmur, your brain turned into a mush and your body shuddering as he slowly, very slowly, starts moving. He doesn't pull out completely, he keeps his cock buried deep in you and slides in and out at a leisure pace.

"Of course, my pup would like to get fucked senseless," he mumbles, slapping one of your buttcheeks again.

You were fully sure his hand was now printed on your skin in a bright red shade; the soreness didn't matter because the thrill was eating you up and turning it into bliss. Biting back a moan, you keep your breathing steady. Though, you feel your chest shatter entirely when he picks up his pace. Your fingernails start scratching at the varnish on the table, a bit of it getting stuck in them.

"Yes, prof—professor..." you groan, stuttering with his thrusts.

"Nuh-huh, for an obedient puppy like you, I'm your master," he slides his cock out, and rams back into you, letting it plunge deep, "what should you—should you call me, pup?"

"Master," you breathe out, exasperated. "Master, please go faster, fuck! Fuck me harder please, breed your little pup." You cry, genuinely letting tears streak down your cheeks; you were weak already, holding out till he would increase the rhythm of his merciless thrusts.

Something goes off in his head, his hips start snapping at an animalistic pace with your body thrashing against the wooden desk; his hands are all over you, touching you, caressing you, leaving his marks on you. Though, at a point he brings one of his hands to the curve of your back, while his other hand winds itself around your thigh. Seeming seconds drag on with his thrusts curt and sharp, his cock reaching deep in your cunt till you could feel it tauten in the pit of your stomach. Yunho could sense your walls clench around his cock, not liking it one bit—his thrusts start faltering, gradually coming to a halt.

Still buried deep in you, he leans over your back—inching close to your neck, he bites down harshly before whispering, "does my pup want to cum?"

You could discern the slyness in his voice, and you nod your head with your mouth agape, drool glistening down your lower lip and staining your chin. Bearing his size, tuning with his blunt thrusts, and the way his tip was abusing your sweet spot, it was all too much, sending you into a sensory overdrive. At this point, you had zero comprehensible thoughts in your mind except for the heinous acts you were weaving into your body: all of them being about your professor and his huge dick.

"Well, then my pup has to wait a little longer," he grunts close to your ear and then straightens himself up, "master isn't done with his pup yet."

"Can my pup wait a little longer?" he presses his hand down on your back, reluctantly making your walls clench around him.

You're left with no choice but to nod your head again, and it satisfies him; his gradually starts moving again, keeping his thrusts steady and slow. He lets you adjust to him again, and eventually increases his pace. Pulling and shoving himself into you, he starts bucking his hips into your thighs, his grip tightening till his knuckles turn white while you hold onto the edge of the table like your life depended on it. Your body oscillates to and fro, colliding and thumping with the wooden table with his every thrust. The sound of clothes crumpling, and the rattling of his belt buckle, makes your heart race harder in your chest.

You had never imagined you'd be caught in this situation; not that you didn't imagine or fantasise it, you didn't think it'd become a reality. Yeah, it's true that you had countless fantasises about your professor, one of them being fucked while you're bent over his desk—but the probability of him actually fucking you was one in a twenty, considering there were twenty female students in your class. Skin slapping against skin, his cock thrashing balls deep in your tight cunt, you were still mewling in your mind for more. The sensation was diabolical in a way, clustering your brain with unwanted thoughts—hell, you had lost it.

A known tightness tangles itself in your gut, your stomach cherishing the last bit of butterflies it felt before knowing you would flood down on his cock soon. Your senses drop, your stomach twists and knots, your heart runs a miles per hour because his thrusts were helping you chase your high. You were so sure he was going to let you take a break, let you ease out the tightness in your stomach; but to your unbridled surprise, he doesn't. His movements dither, slowing down till he comes to a stop again; he's still buried deep in you, and somehow that caused you more pain than his actual thrusts.

"Aww, my pup is too eager to get off," he mumbles, throwing his head back in pure bliss from your walls still clenched around him, but then he feels you loosen, and he starts pounding into you with a gentle tempo. "Not so soon. You're still getting punished."

He drags on for an hour or so, his thrusts stopping completely sometimes, his cock buried deep in your warmth—eventually he would pick up his pace and ram into your tight little cunt as if it was the last thing he wanted. You had been denied your orgasm a few times, counting it, you had been denied three times so far. Though that pleasure was turning into pain, your belly ached with every inch of strain his cock put on your cunt. Your stomach knots itself for the fourth time, your legs trembling and your yearning crossing your threshold to hold your orgasm in.

The familiarity only grows in your gut, your walls puckering around his cock to milk out his own orgasm; but he knows how to play it off well, he wasn't going to cum before you did. Pressing back into your thighs, he remains unmoving for a second before picking up his pace again, his cock plunges into the deeper void of your cunt, almost protruding the walls to your gut. You have lost your voice to make a sound, one thing—but the other thing was you weren't supposed to make a lot of noise. Swallowing your moans and grunts, you feel your high washing over; your walls tighten around his cock one last time before they're coming undone—releasing you juices all over his cock. Some of it squirts around as his cock still keeps plunging deep into you, a few drops stain his abdomen and get absorbed in his clothes, but he doesn't seem too bothered by it.

"My pup made a mess on my cock," he grumbles, closing his eyes shut as he helps you ease your cunt with a few of his concise and brief thrust. His thighs collide with yours, heat growing between your bodies and your skin slick from sweat and your orgasm. "Such a pretty pup, such a beautiful little baby..." he rambles on his own, incoherent and inaudible, but mostly it was him losing his mind over the trickling warmth of your arousal.

His thrusts become sloppy once he knows he's reaching his high; but he doesn't give out just yet. With a couple more longing and concise thrusts, he lets himself drive his cock deep into your warmth—he counts down the minutes with his ambling pokes till it becomes unbearable for him to hold out. Taking a deep breath and arching his back to let his cock plunge deep, he slides one of his hands on your lower back—pressing, pushing, digging his fingers and palm in your flesh, he releases himself in deep in you. With every thrust, he keeps pulling out till he completely slides out of you. He smirks at the sight his eyes behold, twinkling with a yearning no one knows, not even you; his load dribbles down your pussy, staining your skin in stark white shade, as some of it spurts on your inner thighs.

You're breathless, too fucked to understand anything and thus you couldn't register your surroundings quite well when he flips you over. Grabbing your shoulders, he pushes you down on the ground, having you kneel before him with his cock near your mouth. The veins on his cock were less bulged than before, but his shaft was coated in a thin layer of his cum and glints a bit with your juices.

"Clean me up, pup."

His order doesn't go unheard by you, and as the loyal little puppy you are to him, you hold on to the sides of his thighs and lean in to lick his cock off. At first, it's a weird concoction of saltiness and a little bit of sweetness, soon it fades to nothing. You lap your tongue around his shaft, over and under his tip till you've cleared everything off from his cock—you pull back, smiling dizzily because you were delighted to help him out. Half-lidded eyes trace a line up and you find him staring at down at you, his hand in the process to grab your jaw. Caressing your chin, he pulls you up on your feet and helps you sit on the desk before wrapping his arms around your waist to pull himself closer to you.

"Miss Lee," he whispers, "I'm sure the post-orgasm clarity is now sinking in both of our minds, but we certainly need to address the elephant in the room."

You lean forward to rest your head on his chest, closing your eyes shut for a moment, you take a deep breath in and relax your tensed muscles. "Professor Jeong...I've wanted this to happen for a long time."

"So, you have no regard for me losing my job, do you?" he teases, rubbing circles on your back to soothe you, "Lee Sherri, you really are a brat. Making me break my rules."

"What rules?" you grin, peeking up at him as your wrap your arms around his broad chest.

"I don't date my students," he murmurs, pecking your forehead.

"Who's suggesting you date me?" you chuckle, shaking your head, "we can be fuck buddies."

"Is that what you call it nowadays?" he laughs, heartily, pouting down at you as he continues, "we'll have to be really careful, Sherri. Can't have anyone knowing about us—"

Knock knock!

Your eyes go wide, your heart thumps in your chest and your lips start quivering in fear. On the other hand, Yunho is pretty tame, and he only offers you a reassuring smile.

"Straighten out your clothes and relax. It's no stranger, I've been expecting him actually," he mumbles, breaking apart from your embrace to pull his pants and briefs up.

Whilst he is buttoning his pants and buckling the belt, you too tug your panties up and hop off the desk. You try to smoothen out the creases on your skirt and blouse—your white lacy socks were stained with dust at the knees, but you didn't care about it. The clutter of papers on the desk remains as it is, neither of you bothered to organise it. Professor Jeong smiles at you warmly before heading to the door of the classroom, he unlocks the latch and pulls the doors inside to reveal another man with tall silhouette standing there.

Professor Song.

"Since when have you been locking your doors, Yun?" the latter teasingly mutters and chortles, stepping past his friend and entering the classroom which reeks of sweat and sex. He sniffs the air and along the lines his eyes land on you, "ah. So, you were having "one-on-one" with your student."

Professor Song wasn't a professor from your department, he was the heartthrob of the physics department, seemingly the kind who would definitely not have any sentiments towards his students or anyone younger to him for that matter. Clad in a plaid shirt and khakis, he too had a body worth breaking the laws for; his toned biceps bulged out of the sleeves he had rolled over to his elbows, his thick thighs (which you've fantasied riding on) were defined by his tight khakis, and hazel eyes were piercing through you with curiosity.

"Miss Lee and I were just discussing, weren't we, Miss Lee?" Yunho calls out from behind him, tugging down on the crotch of his pants for some apparent reason.

"Discussing what?"

You shift your weight on your feet, standing an inch away from the desk (where you were just railed by your professor) and you pull down on your skirt, not knowing why you felt the need to. You eye your tote bag fallen down on the floor, then at the mess of your binder on the table, and one thing becomes clear which is you and Professor Jeong did fuck on the table.

"I was chiding her for not completing her experimental write-ups, Min," Yunho adds, scratching the back of his neck as he comes to stand next to him. "Miss Lee, we'll have a proper discussion about your careless behaviour next time, perhaps tomorrow. Now, you may leave."

You nod, "ye—yes professor."

Hastily, you sprint out of the classroom after gathering your things and stuffing them in your bag in a haphazard way; meanwhile Mingi rolls his eyes at his friend and scoffs.

"Lie to someone else, Yun."

"Fuck you," he grumbles before a conceited smirk takes over his face.

"If you keep your trap shut, maybe we can share."

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #jeong yunho x reader #atz #jeong yunho smut #smut #yunho #yunho ateez #yunho smut #choi san #song mingi #choi san x reader #jeong yunho x you

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thehauntedetheral · 7 months ago

Note

That, “After all I am just a girl 🎀”, sent me! LOL! It’s such a fat fucking mood I have 24/7

So follow up request, how about a Hyper/Extreme Masculine Man x Hyper/Extreme Feminine Woman Reader

Give me someone who is wholesomely sexist that is so damn fine that the red flags start to look green

Hello! Thank you for your love. Glad that you liked my work. I hope you like my writing. This is my first time writing something like this so please be kind. I hope you love this. Enjoy!

Yandere Sexist X Reader

Requests are open!

• You and yan dated throughout the college and after graduation he proposed you. You were madly, irrevocably and passionately in love with him.

• Yan Husband who is a toxic sexist who is a excellent manipulator. He tells you after marriage how his parents were a traditional gender role household meaning husband being the bread winner and leader of house while wife being a good pretty house wife. He wants to try it. You were reluctant at first but after enough manipulation and sugar coating you agreed. After all this man is an excellent manipulator.

"Baby please just try it for me. If you don't feel good after doing this for a month we will stop it. You had been working so hard throughout the college. You can relax a bit by this and can also take a break and get the time to do all those hobbies and stuff you were interested in doing but couldn't due to college work. We have just got married why so eager for a job? Settle down have some rest. I have a very good paying job to provide for both baby. Please try this for me love?" He would say while holding your face delicately in his hand and looking at you with his gorgeous hazel eyes.

• You slowly started to delve into it. Baking, cooking meals, taking care of him and house and decorating, doing household chores, gardening vegetables, beautiful flowers and loving it.

• He was slowly brainwashing you into his little pretty house wife without you knowing.

"Baby you don't have to think about anything I will take care of everything. Hmm? You know I love you and will take care of you."

• You were a definition of hyper feminine now. Long forgotten your old ambitious about your career self in college.

• Pretty Ribbons in your long hairs, delicate cute dresses, High heels, make up on, hosting parties for his colleagues, shopping, baking, reading, trying new recipes, doing house chores while waiting for your husband to come home were now part of your daily routine.

• Yan and you you would go out for dinners and if somebody looked at you a little long he would break their bones. After all you were his wife and wouldn't allow a weird creep to stare at you.

• He was the provider and you were his pink pretty princess housewife whom he loves to dead.

• Will shower you with gifts like vacations, jewellery, dresses.

• Yan Husband who is dominant in your married life and in bed.

• Yan Husband who is a toxic manipulator sexist who will make you totally dependent on you to make sure you don't run away from him ever.

"You need me baby as much as I need you. I am your husband I know what is best for us."

"You contribute to the household by taking care of me so good which helps me to do my job properly and soon you will be the mother of our beautiful children, darling."

• Looking at his handsome face with beautiful eyes oozing masculine energy always made you forget everything.

• You know your husband is always right and will take care of you.

Requests are open!

For more yandere reading:

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hb-writes · 2 months ago

Text

The Storyteller

Summary: Following the family's difficulties with James, Victoria, and Laurent, Mia starts having nightmares. Carlisle gives them both the gift of comfort and familiarity.

Characters: Carlisle Cullen & Mia Cullen (OC)

Twilight (Mia Cullen) Masterlist

Comfy-vember 2024 Masterlist

—

Mia woke tucked into her father’s side while he read, the house around them still and quiet.

“What time is it?” Mia asked as she stretched. The clouded morning light filtered through the windows, and had her father been human it would have been too dim to read without turning on the light on her bedside table.

“8:13,” Carlisle answered as he finished reading a sentence and glanced at Mia. “You can go back to sleep. Get some more rest.”

Mia should have been in her homeroom class, but she wasn’t surprised that her parents let her stay home after back to back nights of next to no sleep, her evenings riddled with far too many nightmares and far too little REM.

“Where’s mom?” she asked, remembering that it had been her mother who she had fallen asleep beside in the first place, Home and Garden Television on in the background as they lounged on the couch.

“At the store…and your siblings are at school,” he continued, knowing that her next inquiry would be after them, her brothers and sisters.

The hint of a smile tugged at her lips as she imagined who had fought against that particular declaration—Edward, she assumed and maybe Emmett as well, but they didn’t want to raise any flags. The Cullen family missed enough school as it was. No need for them to stay home when the forecast called for rain today and sun later in the week.

“I thought you had to work today,” she said, because his working a day shift this week had been a topic of conversation. It wasn’t often he did it, but a few times a month when the weather permitted, Carlisle worked at the ER during the day.

Carlisle took a performative breath. He had hoped his daughter would simply fall asleep. She needed the rest more than she needed the answers to these questions, but it seemed she was intent on staying awake for now as she shifted to sit up in bed.

“I thought we could spend the day together instead.”

“Doing what?”

“This,” he answered. “Resting.”

Carlisle noted the slight disappointment that clouded over her features.

“But I’m not tired.”

Carlisle raised an eyebrow. He knew his daughter was tired, but he also knew she was stubborn. And he knew that alone time was sometimes a novelty for the two of them. A precious gift that they both cherished. Carlisle was rather certain that was the reason why his wife had gone out shopping despite having as full of cupboards as they needed.

“I’m not very tired,” she amended. “I slept.”

“For” —Carlisle glanced at his watch— “three hours, Mia. You need to rest. We both need to.”

“You aren’t resting,” she argued, nodding toward the bound pages open in his lap. “You’re reading.”

“For fun,” Carlisle answered. “For you. It’s a gift.”

Mia’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the “book” he was holding. It wasn’t a traditional book—neither soft or hardcover—but a hefty pile or 8 x 11 pages bound together with a plastic ring binding.

She lifted the pages to see the cover.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

by J.K. Rowling

FINAL DRAFT - NOT FOR DISTRIBUTION

Mia let out a squeak as she dropped the cover onto her father’s lap. “This isn’t even out yet. How did you—How did you get this?”

Carlisle shrugged. “A friend.”

The next book in the installment wasn’t expected out for another month or so. Finding an early copy had been a recent endeavor, something he had been working on as a gift for Mia. He had asked around to his contacts, knowing that eventually he would find someone with the proper access or influence to obtain a copy. After the trouble with James, Victoria, and Laurent, and with the stress of the end of the school year, Mia had been stressed. She had been having nightmares for weeks, but they had become more prominent over the last few days. It had been luck more than anything that the manuscript had arrived when it had.

They had read all of the books together—Carlisle and Mia—and Mia had practically grown up alongside Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

“How far have you gotten?” she asked.

“I’ve just finished chapter 6.”

It wasn’t very far, but it was far enough that Mia knew what her father had been doing—reading ahead so he could tell her the story himself as he had always done with she was little. Mia readjusted suddenly, settling her head against the pillows, and facing her father as she pulled the blankets up over her shoulder.

“Would you like to hear it?” Carlisle asked.

Mia nodded as he set the manuscript aside and shifted to turn toward his daughter, the smooth cadence of Carlisle’s voice a comfort as he told her the story from memory.

Because Carlisle worked overnights, it was usually the others who tended to Mia’s nightmares—Edward and Esme, most often—so it was a rare gift for Carlisle to have this chance. A rare opportunity for them to spend the day together. Carlisle knew a day of rest with a shared book wouldn’t solve all of his daughter’s problems. It wouldn’t make finals any easier or erase the memories of the vampires who had caused their family and Bella so much strife, but he hoped it would help. He hoped the familiar routine and familiar characters would be a comfort for her as much as it was for him.

—

Twilight (Mia Cullen) Masterlist

Comfy-vember 2024 Masterlist

#twilight fanfiction #the twilight saga #twilight #carlisle cullen #carlisle cullen fanfiction #mia cullen #we intertwined

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bloodin-themoonlight · 1 year ago

Text

This took 6,000 years to put together.

I need to talk about some things — things that are afoot — before I pop. On my (pick a card, any card, shhh) rewatch, I've picked up on lots of potential Clues and Foreshadowing. Shouts like David Tennant, "I want to be heard!" and waves hands like Detective Azirapalalala.

It starts, as it will end, with a garden. Season 1 indeed began with a Garden. The Garden of Eden. I'm going to leave this here for now, but I'm going to come back to it. Neil never does anything by accident. Everything we saw in Good Omens season 1 and season 2 had a purpose. Have you got your turtlenecks on? Right. Let's go. While season 2 had a heartbreaking ending, their story is not over because —

It starts, as it will end, with a garden. Foreshadowing. There was a lot of it. I'll start with two important lines that were said by Crowley and Maggie. Maggie mirrors Crowley. "I'm coming back. I won't leave you on your own." Crowley had to leave Aziraphale in order to save the humans, but then we got, "I'm not leaving him to face them on his own." Parallels. Similar lines, and, in that moment, Maggie took Crowley's place as Aziraphale's protector. “Would I lie to you?”

Crowley does lie, but he promised Aziraphale that he’d come back to him, and he did. I’ll come to you is something Crowley will never lie about. More on that specific detail later. WAIT AND SEE! Season 1, Episode 5: The Doomsday Option "Look, wherever you are, I'll come to you. Where are you?" Season 2, Episode 5: The Ball "I'm coming back. I won't leave you on your own." There are parallels here too. Both lines are similar, both were spoken by Crowley and both were in the fifth episodes. It might not mean anything, but it could be a Clue, and I've still got my eye on Neil ... and his ominous lighter. Season 2, Episode 6: Every Day "Angels are like bees. Fiercely protective of their hive." This line shouted at me. Anthony "Ji'mNotNice" Crowley, while no longer an angel, has the protective tendencies of a Guardian Angel. He is the bee. Aziraphale is the hive.

In the fifth episode of season one, Crowley had been stuck in a traffic jam and then decided he was going to go 100% feral and drive his Bentley through fire. Nothing was going to stop him from getting to Aziraphale.

In episode 1 of season 2, The Arrival, Crowley losing his temper, I believe, foreshadows his threat to Jimmm “ShortForJammmes” Gabriel —

— which took place in the fifth episode of the second season.

“But I was there, and I do remember very clearly the look on your face, Archangel Gabriel, when you told my only friend to shut his stupid mouth and die.”

Right — ready? I threw these in as well because I have a hunch that they could also count as potential foreshadowing. Let's look at three very specific lines. Season 2, Episode 2: The Clue

I need to talk about that line because it appears to heavily foreshadow the end of season 2 episode 6. Aziraphale went with the Metatron to Heaven despite his bookshop. His love for food. Coffee. The kiss. Crowley. Despite everything he holds dear.

He is going along with Heaven as far as he can. I'm going to talk about the Coffee Shop Theory first, which is going to lead right into the Body Swap Theory, and why I don't stand by them. The Coffee Shop Theory We don't know a lot about the Metatron because we've hardly seen him as anything other than a floating head and his claim to be the Voice of God — at least right up until the end of season 2. There were a lot of red flags floating around just like his head. This conversation to start with... The Metatron: Do people ever ask for death? Nina: What? The Metatron: Well, the name of your establishment. Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death. I assume they always ask for coffee. Nina: They don't ever ask for death, no. The Metatron: No, I don't suppose they do. So predicatable. So predictable.

There was a sinister edge to it, and I didn’t like it. Crowley has asked about the name of the coffee shop, too, but it’s Crowley. He’s harmless. Something about the Metatron doesn’t sit right with me.

1) None of the angels in the bookshop seemed to recognize the Metatron, but at least several of them should have. They did see him as a floating head, so why didn’t they know him while Crowley did?

2) Where exactly has God been?

3) There was definitely something evil about that look the Metatron gave to Crowley in the bookshop. Why didn’t he seem to react to it?

The Metatron appeared to use manipulation tactics and mimicked Aziraphale’s speech patterns as a way of convincing him to accept his proposal. He brought him a coffee — it’s no secret that Aziraphale enjoys coffee and nice meals — complimented him — an angel of your talents — used the phrase jolly good — something Aziraphale has said before — and threw this in.

“As Supreme Archangel, you would get to decide who to work with.”

He’s using Crowley as another manipulative tactic because he knows how deeply Aziraphale cares for him, but —

1) He knows Crowley will not agree to return to Heaven.

2) He wants them separated because they are too powerful together. And nothing will be able to stand in their way if they are not separated.

Performs a wibbly wobbly timey wimey miracle

The Body Swap Theory

Aziraphale is a master of his face. He’s bubbly almost all the time, but when he’s not, it shows. I can’t bring myself to stand by the body swap theory because of two things.

Aziraphale made this face when he had Hell convinced that he was Crowley. This smile —

— closely resembles this smile.

This is Aziraphale, but he’s not the Aziraphale we know. This is an angel who has already put his armor on and is ready for battle. This is an angel who is going to fight for everything he holds dear.

The Metatron may have successfully separated them, but he clearly hasn’t been paying close attention to Crowley or Muriel. He apparently didn’t notice how feral Crowley became when Aziraphale was threatened in any way.

You don’t separate the bee from the hive.

Muriel willingly took our favorite murder hornet bee into Heaven. It’s clear they like Crowley, and he likes them as well. There were no signs that Muriel lost their angelic powers, and that could result in them getting Crowley into Heaven again. I believe they are going to play a key role in season 3.

Performs another wibbly wobbly timey wimey miracle…

“You’re just an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can.”

“Oh, I am, but rescuing me makes him so happy.”

“You came back.”

My point is … m’point is …

Aziraphale will always go along with Heaven as far as he can … until he doesn’t, and I believe we will get to see that in season three. As soon as he was told of the Second Coming, it was clear that he was not pleased.

“You’re so clever. How can somebody as clever as you be so stupid?”

Aziraphale is clever, and dangerously so.

And that set Armageddon his plan into motion.

To wrap things up, here’s the thing regarding more on that specific detail later — Crowley will always be the bee, and he will always be fiercely protective of his hive Aziraphale, and he will either always be waiting for him or always come back to him.

It starts, as it will end, with a garden.

Their Nightingale will sing once more.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #david tennant #aziracrow #michael sheen #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #good omens 1 #good omens 2 #good omens meta #ineffable idiots #muriel #the metatron #nina #maggie #ineffable fandom

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sunraies · 4 months ago

Text

This will contain spoilers for OBX4 Part 1. Ep4 used the most. Other plot lines missed out.

She's so gone

Pogue Reader. Hints of Rafe Cameron.

Warnings- Violence, animal cruelty, blood, mentions of drugs.

JJ Maybank's sister isn't the quite, sweet girl she was 18 months ago.

Just a little background as hard to explain/cover in a one-shot :

Y/N Maybank nicknamed May, MayB or MB

JJ Maybank's sister. (Obx 4 spoiler, you can chose if biological, Luke's or someone else's)

Naturally shy, kind and caring. Loves to read and enjoys nature and the beach. Quietest out of the Pogues.

Changed during the 18 months JJ and the Pogues were away, treasure hunting and fighting for their lives.

I may chose to do more with this nicknamed Y/N character if people enjoy her. Sorry if I'm rusty and seems rushed had this idea after finishing part 1.

*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*

The last 18 months had been hell on earth to put it lightly. While your brother and his friends were off finding treasure and as you found out from all the details later, fighting to survive, you were left behind. Left with no father, brother and friends to try and keep the only home you knew. You literally worked until your fingers and feet bled. Taking cleaning jobs around the Cut and Figure Eight, working as many hours as possible at the Country Club taking any shift they had going from lifeguarding and golf carting to bartending and waiting. Anything to keep your roof over your head, hoping the people you loved would be home soon.

Things turned darker when you got so desperate you used some of Luke's contacts to make money. It started small selling a few stolen pills to dealing using many cleaning jobs as a cover. You were almost caught by Shoupe a few times but he seemed to go easy on you, thinking you were still the grade A student, polar opposite sister of JJ Maybank. Before things got too serious the person to help pull you out was the last person anyone would expect, Rafe Cameron. Why he helped you was unclear but after many months of denying his help, you finally accepted having received a busted lip on a deal gone wrong. The money he loaned you save your home for a little while.

An odd friendship formed between the pair of you but never went any further as before it could the Pogues returned home, with life changing treasure and the news of Ward Cameron and Big John Routledge's death.

Rafe closed himself off to you and you had to go on like nothing happened.

Life got easier and so good with your family's return. They brought your home and land. Poguelandia was re-created and you got a taste of the paradise they had created on the island they told you all about.

After building the paradise. You helped run the shop, organised JJ's charters, helped Kie in the garden and kept the bills and books in check with Pope. You got to be your old self again, spending days relaxing, reading in the sun and enjoying the company of your loved ones.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

It had happened a few times over that summer, a storm over the Atlantic hundreds of miles away sent ripples right over the pond. Having grown up on the Outerbanks you told tell, you could hear it the moment you woke up. The flags on the roof and in the yard sung a perfect sympathy with the gulls flying over head.

"We're going to the beach!" You heard JJ yelled through your open window, the tell tell sounds of John B slapping him out of happiness confirmed the feeling in your bones. "Wakey-wakey everybody!"

It didn't matter what you had planned that day, it changed to hitting the brake. No matter what, everyone would stop. It was one time the whole island came together. That perfect summer swell.

"Yeah, baby, now that's the perfect swell. It's probably the best of the year" JJ howled as he checked his phone, tracking the swell making sure the broads were ready and prepared in time to hit the best waves.

Everyone woke with the tingle in their bodies and happy buzz of that beach day. You happily lounged in the hammock while the others prepped their boards. Planning to read on the beach as the others surfed.

Pope had decided not to join causing outrage. Sarah sat up quickly in the swinging chair and you almost toppled out of the hammock. "There'll be other swells. Someone's gotta keep the shop open"

"Pope. That's like saying there's other pizza to eat all right?" JJ exclaimed "like come on, now. You serious?"

"Wow" Kie sighed "Listen to your earth mother, Pope. She's like begging you to surf."

"I think my earth mother is telling me to maximise our intel" Pope wasn't having any of it. "The shop needs running as someone bet our tax fund" He glared at JJ who ignored him.

"Mines tell me to maximise the swell" Kie argued, looking for support.

"Wanna maximise this beach day?" John B looked at Sarah who agreed.

"I wanna maximise this tan" Sarah smiled before turning to you "May? Maximise beach day?"

"I'm gonna maximise this book" you waved your book bag having stood closer to Kie who hummed. They knew you wouldn't get in the surf but never missed beach day.

"Okay, everyone have fun maximising" Pope shrugged. "Cleo texted to say she's collecting bait, someone's gotta sale it"

"Lame. Tell her we're closed" Kie frowned

"Pope, hey, hey, rule number one, Pope, is no working on a swell day." JJ said, desperately trying to stop him as John B wrapped an arm over his shoulder.

"Rule number one" You echoed as Pope looked your way. Having worked the books with him, you knew the shop was sinking but didn't have the heart to tell the others yet. Pope still deserved a day off through but you understood why he was so adamant.

"Someone's gotta do this. If we want to keep business going" Pope shrugged "catch a nasty one for me" He smiled at a broken hearted looking JJ.

"I can stay, I can read while on the till" You offered but Pope shock his head.

"Go enjoy the sand, MayB" He smiled wrapping an arm over your shoulders before kissing your temple.

They all knew how much you worked while they were away but not the dealing side of things. You deserve a beach day, they'd seen a slight change in you but didn't talk to you about it. Taking whatever details of your time alone you'd give them.

Being in the Twinkie, cruising along the coastal road with the music blaring felt like home. Kie smiling happily while an excitable JJ disturbed John B and Sarah in the front.

"Look, John B" JJ grinned pointing over him "Look out there"

You laughed with Kie and Sarah as John B covered his eyes and pushed him backwards, causing JJ to flop over you and Kie.

"May, did you see!? The waves were huge" He grinned boyishly up at you as he held his arms wide, the size of the waves.

"Yeah J, I saw" you smiled softly down at him.

As soon as the Twinkle hit the sand, JJ slide the door open and happily ran his hands in sand while John B let her roll to a stop. Everyone laughed as they soaked up the sun. You laughed as John B almost hit JJ over the head with the umbrella.

"Half-baked Poguelandia" John B sighed as Sarah chuckled "its gonna be great"

Once everything was set, you happily flopped into a chair identical to JJ's, a matching set you had since he was 3.

Kie adjusted the umbrella for you before wrapping you in a back hug "all set, MayB. We'll miss you out there"

"Hey, beach bag guard has always been my duty" You leaned back into her, laughing as the chair wobbled you both "you guys catch the waves while I stay on dry land"

"Let's get those boards off!" JJ hurried over to the van while the roars of jeeps took over the peaceful sounds of the beach.

"Oh boy" John B sighed

"What?" JJ asked distracted by the boards.

The mood suddenly dropped as Kook jeeps rolled closer in a convoy.

"You're joking" Sarah muttered clearly annoyed

"Don't stop" JJ sighed while Kie shook her head "anywhere but here"

You all watched as Topper cruised by at the front. They clearly spotted your group as a random Kook called out look. Stopping a small distance away.

"Oh, you're joking. Of course, they stop here" Kie sighed, her thoughts out loud."Why wouldn't they? When there's a whole beach"

"We were here first," Sarah pouted. "So lame" she walked back towards Twinkie, unable to look at them as John B stared at Topper, unloading his fancy board.

"Let's go, Baby," you heard Rafe yell as he jumped out the back of Top's truck. You hadn't seen him in months. Your heart jumped a little before plummeting as Sofia cuddled into his side. You'd hear rumors but hadn't seen them together yet.

"Oh, great, my brothers here" Sarah sighed as Rafes eyes scanned the beach and your group before they locked in on you.

"Kie, don't worry, he's not getting near you" JJ confirmed her as you all knew about the boat incident. "I can guarantee that"

You wished the promise of protection was to you too but they didn't know, you hadn't told them of your betrayal. The life line you took from Rafe. The reason the house and land was still there to buy in the first place.

"Hey, ya'll. John B" JJ called from the top of the Twinkie "Sunshines coming"

You broke eye contact with Rafe, adjusting your shades, placing the book in your lap to watch Topper approach. You watched as Sarah whispered warnings to John B, most likely telling him not to bite if Topper provoked him.

They seemed tense but ended civilly as John B walked back to your group. You rolled your eyes as some dumb Kook yelled, "Go home Pogues" like they owned the beach.

Things seemed to go smoothly after that. The Pogues happily caught the waves. You jumped up cheering as Sarah successfully rode a big swell in. "YEAH GIRL!" You cheered, picking up her towel while she was briefly stop by Kelce and Topper.

As she walked over you noticed Sofia saying something to Rafe, but he swigged his beer and shook his head.

"You ok?" You asked Sarah as she thanked you for her towel and flopped next to you.

"I'm good" She breathed before looking away from the Kooks "I just wished he'd stop staring over here"

You nodded as you noticed Rafe watching you two. Was he looking at you or Sarah?

"Hey, forget it" You hummed handing her a can out the cooler "he probably doesn't know....." You stopped as Sarah raised an eyebrow. 'How to talk to you after everything' you wanted to finish but instead said "he's probably plotting. You know crazy Kook shit"

Sarah let out breathy laugh "you sound like JJ. Kook conspiracy!"

Sarah dozed next to you as you read but you found it hard to focus, re reading the same line as Rafe kept looking over. You were reading a sentence for the 5th time when you heard yelling from the water. Sarah sat up just in time for you both to witness JJ poach Topper, sending him toppling into the waves as JJ rode to the swallows.

The Kooks yelled at him, including Rafe, before he flipped him the bird, and JJ shrugged, making you and Sarah, even though it clearly broke whatever peace had been created. "Well, that didn't last long" you sighed

The peace seemed to stay for the rest of the afternoon. A few pity poaching and pushing out of the waves happened but it didn't amount to anything. You helped Sarah and John B load the Twinkie as JJ and Kie got the last of the boards on the top.

"Guys! There's a turtle hatch!" Kie gasped, rushing over to the moving sand. You all hurried after her.

"Holy shit! Look at these little nuggets!" John B smiled as baby turtles emerged.

"They're so little!" Sarah made little movements with her hands

"Adorable!" You smiled

"Wait, guys, give them some space. Don't touch them" Kie warned after her excitement.

"Wait, we gotta make a path, right?" John B asked

"Yeah, clear the way" JJ exclaimed before starting to make a part towards the shoreline.

"We gotta clear these footprints" Kie instructed. "Sarah, MayB, keep the gulls off"

"I don't see any!" Sarah spread her arms wide, looking up before wobbling. You caught her laughing before helping shield the baby turtles.

"A turtle highway!" JJ exclaimed.

"Follow the turtle highway. Come kids" Sarah happily called out to them, and John B joked he was their human daddy leading them to the ocean-ocean

"Go on, babies." you smiled before looking at Kie, who was smiling widely, over the moon to see a hatch and that you were all helping her. The turtles and saving the ocean was her dream, and this was a part of it. If this hatch made it, all of them with your help they had a 50% better chance.

Just as you looked back down at them, something fast moving along the beach caught your eye "guys" you muttered before the revving got louder "guys!"

"Hey!" Kie jumped up quickly waving her arms as she saw the jeep too. You both desperately waved your arms to stop whoever it was. All of you started waving and yelling

"Hey stop!"

"Stop!"

"There's a hatch!"

"Yo Stop"

"Go around!"

They didn't stop. If anything, whoever was behind the wheel accelerated more. You and Kie stood your ground till the last second, diving and tumbling out of the way before you could be hit. JJ desperately looked around, seeing Sarah had Kie, he helped you up, checking you over for any injuries. "Shit, you good?"

You hummed and nodded before he ran over to Kie checking on her.

"Fucking Assholes" Kie frowned, looking at the babies. The revving started again "Oh hell no!"

She stood in the path of the jeep again this time, all five of you stood together, yelling from them to stop. Again, they didn't, making you all jump out of the way. Kie got hit with a drink as the Kook you recognised as Ruthie drove by.

As the others checked on Kie, you looked over that the Kooks hollering and cheering. Noticing Rafe and Sofia not joining in. If anything, Sofia looked disgusted. Did they feel bad for watching you almost get run over? You hadn't spoken to Sofia much, but she always seemed kind. She clearly didn't belong in a good way.

Kie's gasp and cry of "no no no no" broke you out of your thoughts. Looking down at her kneeling in the sand, you noticed a murdered baby turtle in her hands. The tiny broken shell. Kie whimpered and remained for a moment before suddenly standing up and heading for the overly happy group.

"Stay here" she said before walking away. JJ ran after her as John B held Sarah back before calling out to you, but you didn't listen.

"Kie, I know I'm the last to say this. But not today" JJ tried to stop her.

"I don't care" Kie bluntly responded

"Kie, we need to be smart about this" you said softly.

"I don't care" she repeated

"No. All right" JJ sighed "Just we are little outnumber in this situation. Let's jus-"

"I don't care!" She snapped at him, looked at the both of you.

"Here she comes!" Topper called out "on a warpath. Get ready!" Ruthie smugly stood beside him as everyone watched Kie with you and JJ behind her to see what would happen.

"Look what you did" Kie held out the baby turtle. "Is this OK?" Ruthie smug ass look dropped suddenly glancing at the baby before looking away.

"No, look at it!" Kie urged."You drove right over it! there was a turtle hatch, you idiots!" Everyone looked uncomfortable.

"I understand your upset, Kiara." Topper tried some conflict resolution bullshit.

"No, I'm more than upset, Topper" Kie snapped at him.

"All right but it was only one" Ruthie sighed pointing back towards John B and Sarah "I mean look there's so many more of them" she shrugged like it was nothing "what a hatch is like 100 turtles? Most of them don't make it anyway"

"Yeah, it's like 1 in 1000" Topper added, like stating the facts Kie knew would help.

"Hey, you know what? You should so throw that to the seagulls. " Ruthie taunted "cycle of life, right?"

"Cycle of life!" Kie pushed her back, causing her to cry out in shock, and Topper jumped in to protect her "getting flatten by a truck is not the cycle of life!"

JJ got between Topper and Kie holding him away from her as some Kook held up her phone. Ruthie got close to Kie, "Your move, Kie." She clearly felt protected by her friend recording. "What you gonna do?"

"I would just walk away. We are not going this today" Topper warned JJ and Kie. No one was really paying attention to you. You were JJ's quite, sweet sister.

"There is something seriously wrong with you people!" Kie yelled at them before turning around and pushing a speaker over.

"Come on, Kie" You said softly, putting an arm around her, which she shrugged off.

"Yeah, that's right! Get back to your side, Kie!" Ruthie yelled. You glared back at them, pausing between Kie walking away and JJ staying.

"If you touch her, or any of us ever again. I'll come back and kill every single one of you" JJ threatened.

"Was that a threat?" Ruthie gasped as someone called out they had JJ on video.

"Come on" He said softly to you as you continued to watch Ruthie, blood bubbling away under the surface.

"Always knew he'd end up like his daddy" Ruthie muttered, clinging to Topper like some poor victim. You caught what she said and saw red.

Before anyone knew what was happening, your fist connected with Ruthies' nose. A horrific crack broke the stunned silence. Blood poured from her nose as she cried out. You shook your hand out, not sure if the crack was your knuckles, her nose, or both.

"You dare speak of my family again" You seethed "and it will be more than just your nose. TURTLE MURDERING BITCH"

Chaos broke out as Topper went for you, JJ pushed him away as he broke out of his shock. John B sprinted over as Kelce took as swing for JJ. Shockingly, Rafe got between the four of them.

"Get the fuck out of here!" He yelled at JJ and John B "get her and go!"

JJ scribbled over to you, grabbing you arm and pulling you away "Holy shit, holy shit" He muttered "what the fuck? How the-" He was stunned just as much as everyone else.

"We have that on video?! Right?!" Ruthie cried, holding a towel to her nose, but her friend shook her head, having stopped when JJ and you started to walk away. She'd only caught the aftermath.

Back the Twinkle, Sarah held your hand, checking the bruising and broken knuckles. "You got a serious swing there, May"

"Well, J taught me" you shrugged.

"I taught you for emergency situations!" He ran a hand through his hair."That was not an emergency!"

"She looked too smug" You said sighing softly.

"Yeah, now we gotta deal with Shoupe" JJ sighed, knowing he'd probably already been called. The death threat was bad enough.

"May, hasn't got a record. She'll be fine" Kie said "but girl, you did what I wanted to do!"

"Plus Shoupe hasn't had to deal with MayB before. She's normally covering your messes. " John B pointed out calming JJ a bit.

"Um, yeah. Kinda not the first time" you muttered.

"WHAT?!" JJ and John B yelled, John B slammed the breaks in shock, bringing the Twinkie to a sudden stop just outside Poguelandia where blue lights flushed.

#rafe cameron #outer banks rafe #outerbanks #rafe cameron imagine #the pogues #obx pogues #jj maybank

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ihearthes · 2 years ago

Text

Winner

Author: @ihearthes

Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (2nd person)

Rating: Smut (NSFW, 18+ Only)

Word Count: 2627

“Okay, so Mum will be the guard, right?” Gemma nudges you, nodding towards Anne. “You and I will go after the boys’ flag.”

“Why do I have to be the guard?” Anne pouts.

“Duh,” Gemma laughs, “Harry and Michal wouldn’t dare hurt you, and Darren can be bribed.”

“True,” you concur, ready to get on with the game. “I vote we hide our flag in the painted mailbox.”

“Oh, good plan!” Anne claps her hands excitedly. While the boys wait inside with Gemma as a watchperson, you and Anne place the green flag in one of Anne’s art creations – an old mailbox she’s painted in multiple bright colours and set out for the birds to build nests in spring.

As the boys, their flag already hidden, swoop from the house, Harry grabs you around the waist, pressing a light-hearted kiss to your nose. “You’re going down, darling!”

“Not a chance!” You laugh, pushing him away. Moving to neutral ground, the teams square up. Anne, considered the most fair, blows a whistle to start the game, and everyone moves in seemingly random directions. Catching a glimpse of the purple flag under one of Anne’s sculptures, you race towards that side of the garden, but in a zigzag pattern so Michal and Darren might not know where you’re going. Harry is clearly hanging back as the guard. Behind you, you can hear Anne and Gemma trying to keep their respective boyfriends from the flag, using whatever means necessary.

You know that’s the case for you too. Winning this competition is everything, so as you approach and get close to the flag, you get blocked by Harry who moves side to side, waving you away from the hiding place.

“Love! It’s not this way. It’s over there,” Harry calls to you while pointing in a different section of the garden. “Look near the gnome.”

But you are well aware of his falsehood, knowing exactly where the flag is, but he continues to block you.

“Come on, H. I’m just trying to take a little stroll over by Dotty.” You point to the cat lounging nearby. “She looks thirsty, and I want to make sure she knows where her water dish is.”

Meanwhile, the yelling behind you continues.

“They’re getting closer!” Gemma yells at you. “Do something!”

Oh well. Nothing to lose but the game, right? It’s all about winning. Without warning, you grab the hem of your shirt and flash your covered tits at Harry. He freezes, mouth dropping open, which gives you just enough time to dart past him and grab the flag, holding it over your head.

“WINNER!” You scream. Anne and Gemma squeal, and you meet them in the neutral ground as the three of you celebrate your victory with an enthusiastic hug.

==========

Tesco. Your least favourite chore, especially on an evening when you simply want to cuddle up with your guy after a long day at work. In the car, your pout is apparent as you sit in the passenger seat with your arms crossed.

“Don’t wanna shop,” you scowl. “Just wanna watch the ‘Succession’ finale with you.”

“We don’t have any food,” Harry points out logically, making you want to punch him. So you do. “Ouch!” Pulling into the parking lot, Harry playfully pokes you. “How about a little competition?”

Intrigued but not willing to give in just yet, you twist to him. He holds up the shopping list from the magnetic refrigerator pad, ripping it in half before handing one side to you.

“First person back to the car with all of the items on the list wins.”

Narrowing your eyes, you examine your list. “What if something is out of stock?”

“You must replace it with a suitable substitute.”

Mulling over the idea, you reach for the door handle. “Competition starts when we open the car doors or when we get to the store door?”

“Store,” he grins, and you both exit the car.

Warily, you keep an eye on him to ensure he doesn’t run to the door to get there before you. Instead, he maintains that silly grin that doesn’t show his teeth, but keeps his dimple on display. At your feet jointly cross the threshold, you grab a basket and race to the dairy, picking up milk and butter at the top of your list. Recognizing that you’ve got to cross to the other side of the store for fish while most of Harry’s items are in the produce area, you smile at a teen girl with her friend as they look over the magazines. Passing them quickly, you mutter loudly enough for them to hear, “I cannot believe Harry Styles is in the produce section at my Tesco.”

Giggling, you hear the girls gasp before their footsteps rapidly move in Harry’s direction. It’s not long before you’ve grabbed the last items on your list and raced to check out. A few minutes later when your dishevelled boyfriend approaches, he finds you leaning on the bumper.

“WINNER!” You laugh, twirling in your victory, and he swats you on the arse as you get into the car.

==========

“Come on, H,” Brad encourages, watching his client carefully, “one more wind sprint.”

“Lighten up, mate,” Harry complains, having surpassed his usual workout time, his chest heaving with exertion.

“Hmmm…” you pop your hip and put your finger on your chin, “I bet I can beat you this time around.”

“Baby…” Harry starts, “No offence, but there’s no way you could keep up with me.”

“Really? Put your money where your mouth is, pretty boy.” You glance at the trainer. “Will you start us?”

“Absolutely,” Brad grins, and you’re confident he thinks you have zero chance. “Ready…”

You line up next to Harry, toes on the same line.

“Steady…” Brad’s voice floats across to you.

“Did I tell you I bought new lingerie?” You whisper just as Brad shouts the final word, and you take off in a sprint, knowing Harry hasn’t even left the starting spot as his mind churns with thoughts of you in whatever you might have bought.

At the finish line, you turn around just in time to spy him crossing the line behind you.

“WINNER!” You jump up and down. “I beat you again, H! Sorry. Didn’t know I was dating such a loser.”

Hands on his knees, Harry flashes his toothiest smile. “You sure you want to go there, love?”

In reply, you smile and walk away, shaking your hips more than usual.

==========

Turning off the telly, Harry twists to face you in bed. “Up for a friendly battle?” He asks, and you don’t even hesitate.

“Yes!” Bouncing to a seated position, you excitedly settle your legs underneath you. “What will it be? Chess? Scrabble? Cribbage?”

“Oh, I was thinking of something a little more…interesting.” His eyebrow quirks as his dimple appears alongside his smirk.

It never occurs to you that you’ll lose. After all, you’ve always found a way to beat him whatever the game. This will be no different. “Bring it!” You grin.

“Okay. The rules are simple. We create challenges for each other. But they can only be challenges that can be done here in bed with what’s available within arms’ reach. First person who can’t complete the challenge loses.”

Shit. You glance around the room where you had done a pretty damn good job of cleaning up earlier in the day. Nothing to be found. The nightstands include a glass of ice left over, some toys, lubricant, and little else.

“Deal,” you declare.

“Cool. I’ll give the first challenge. Ready?”

Your body is already tingling in anticipation. What will he choose? There’s no doubt in your brain that it will be sexy as hell. Whatever it is.

“Whistle with your fingers.”

Hmmm…not at all sexy, but whatever. You can do that easily, and you prove it, sticking two fingers in your mouth and releasing a shrill whistle just like your father had taught you to do at footie games.

Covering his ears, Harry nods. “Your turn.”

“Fart with your armpit,” you challenge.

“Easy peasy,” he laughs, sliding his hand under his shirt and producing a pathetic slapping sound.

“Lame!” you call.

“Close enough.”

Deciding to let it slide, you await his next challenge.

“Take off your bra without taking off your shirt.”

You scoff. “Really? That’s no challenge. I do that all the time.” Reaching behind your back, you release the bra hooks before reaching in each armhole and pulling out a strap. Within seconds, you feel your nipples brushing on the material of your shirt. Oh. Why does that feel so sexy suddenly when you’ve done it hundreds of times before, always feeling perfunctory? But you know it’s because Harry has watched the manoeuvre.

Fuck. Be careful, you remind yourself.

He tilts his head, indicating that it’s your turn to propose a challenge, and you try to think of something that will be deceptively sexy and still challenging. Your eyes roam the space, finally landing on the glass of ice.

“Put a piece of ice into my mouth without touching the ice with your hands.”

That damn eyebrow raises again, and he reaches for the glass. “My hands can touch the glass, right?”

“Yes,” you agree, “Just not the ice itself.”

“Easy,” he mocks, tipping a single piece of ice into his mouth. Leaning towards you, he kisses you, and you maintain a tight seal on your lips to prevent him from sliding the frozen water onto your tongue. This is where he’s going to lose, and then you’ll have your wicked way with him right here in the same bed where he’s lost the game.

The sneak slides his hand under the hem of your shirt, wrapping his chilled hand around your breast which naturally causes you to gasp. Taking advantage, he slides his tongue inside and passes off the ice.

Shit. He’s playing dirty. Bamboozling is your tactic! How dare he?

But now the wheels are turning in your head. The cold from the ice juxtaposed with the heat of your mouth had created a zing in other parts of your body. How might that feel elsewhere? You keep the ice in your mouth, swirling it around.

At your prompting, Harry scans you. “Strip without changing positions.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” But as you ask the question aloud, you picture the best way in your mind. Removing your shirt is the easy part so you do that first, leaving your breasts unfettered. Still kneeling, you unbutton your shorts. Bouncing on the bed, you finagle the material, including your knickers, down your thighs and over your knees where it takes a few more bounces to get completely naked. Your inner workings are as wet as your knees are sore, and you’re slightly out of breath, but you’ve done it. You smile at him proudly, continuing to shift the ice around on your tongue, knowing that he’s just watched your breasts bounce as you performed the tricky act of undressing.

“Lie down and close your eyes.”

Your challenge is simple, and he complies without question. Making short work of his zipper, you withdraw his cock from its hiding place, stroking it a few times before bending over him and applying your icy cold mouth to his most prized body part.

“HOLY FUCK!” Harry cries. “FOUL! FOUL!”

As your mouth slides on him, you notice that he’s enjoying the treatment despite his words of protest. Popping off him, you smile at where he’s looking at you.

“Foul? Okay, I’ll stop. But when did you open your eyes?”

“No fair! You didn’t say to keep them closed.” He looks decidedly unhappy, and you wonder if it’s because he thinks he lost or because your mouth is no longer enticing him.

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “Sorry I wasn’t specific. Won’t happen again.”

Lying on his back still, Harry lifts his shirt. “Mhm. I think I’ve got the winning challenge. Nose on the butterfly and tongue on my belly button.”

“Are you sure you want my tongue there? It’s still cold.”

Harry slings his arm over his face. “Oh my god! You’re going to kill me!”

“Probably one day,” you giggle.

“Fine,” he acquiesces, “How about you ride me without lube?”

“That’s your challenge?” Does he have any idea how wet you are? If you used lube now, you’d ricochet right off him and hurt your head in the process.

As you prepare to straddle him by yanking his bottoms over his feet, he groans.

“Who started this game?” He grumbles.

“I believe that was you.”

“Stupid me. Okay. Here’s my final challenge. Ride me for five minutes and don’t come.”

Tilting your head, you gaze at him from your perch astride his thighs. “I see,” you murmur. “So if I come first, you win.”

“Exactly.” His eyes twinkle, and you process the challenge.

You can do this. You’ll have to stop on occasion to control the build-up, but it’s possible. Biting your lip, you nod.

“Deal. Siri, set a timer for 5 minutes.”

The voice on your phone responds, “Five minutes. Counting down.”

With that, you slide onto Harry, placing your hands on his ferns to get traction. Slowly, you raise yourself off his cock before taking your time inching back down, spreading your legs as wide as you can manage.

Harry sucks in air through his teeth, which sets you wondering if he’ll come first. Will that make you the winner? Pleased at the thought that you could win that way, you renew your efforts, gliding up and down like you’re riding a – well, a Harry. Watching his face, you spy the lip bite that reveals he’s affected by the movement. Shifting your pace to be a little faster, you watch his hands clutch the duvet on either side of him. Hmmm… could you make him come first?

It’s an academic question, and you tackle it like a scientist. If you adjust your pace, moving quickly and then slower, what effect does that have? Oh! Nice! If you rise to the tip of his cock and then slam back down onto him, does his jaw twitch?

“Siri, how much time is left on the timer?” Harry inquires, clearly fighting his impending orgasm.

“There is one minute and 42 seconds left on your five minute timer.”

Whew. You’ve almost made – What? Wait. No!

Harry has grasped your hips, holding you still while he drives into you from below. It suddenly occurs to you that he’s been playing the game well all along. When his thumb shifts to your clit, you grit your teeth, determined to make it through the final minute.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you pant.

“Exactly,” Harry replies just before he stops completely.

Your insides are dripping and quivering, and you’re grateful that he’s stopped before the timer has gone off, but then he withdraws almost completely before slamming upwards into you.

That’s your move! What the fuck?

He repeats the gesture, moving slowly and deliberately each time while his thumb continues to wreak havoc on your clit. Holy –

Every muscle in your body clenches, starting from your vagina and moving outwards as your orgasm overtakes you. Your eyes roll back into your head, and as you tilt your chin to the heavens, you faintly hear the sound of Siri’s alarm ringing again and again.

Just when the convulsions within you are starting to ease, Harry resumes his motions, and you’re back on a high within seconds, screaming his name just before you feel him shooting inside you, coating your walls.

Collapsing on him, your sweaty chest pressed to his, you struggle to catch your breath just as Harry whispers, “Winner,” and you can hear his smile in the single word.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs are love.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles reader insert #my writing #original writing #harry styles fan fiction

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creepycrawliesanonymous · 2 years ago

Text

To All The Boys I've Written About Before - Beige Flags

In my never-ending quest to make things that appeal only to me, here's a little exercise for all the boys in my arsenal.

Angel Torres will always help you out around the house, no question about that, but boy will he act like he's a hero for simply loading the dishwasher. I'm talking wiping his brow every time you walk into the kitchen, grunting when he puts a plate on the drying rack. You offer to help but he flat out refuses, and will probably say some shit like "My hands look like this [soapy] so yours can look like that [slightly dirty from repotting your plants]."

Jesse Pinkman will call you "dude" until the end of time. It doesn't matter what stage of your relationship you are currently in, you will always and forever be "dude" to him. "Yo dude, do you want to grab Wendy's on the way home?""Dude, you look pretty today." You could be at the alter and it would be a "Dude, I do." He also 100% buys in to the "glasses make you smarter" myth.

Lemon bought himself a label-maker, and that man LOVES makin' labels. All the drawers in your flat are labeled, so are the spices (even if they already have labels), he labels which food belongs to who, all the wires/cables have a label for what kind of wire/cable they are and what they're for. You told him that you could probably remember which clear jar holds the salt and which holds the ginger-snaps, so he made the label "fuck off" and stuck it to your forehead.

Tangerine refuses to call menu items by their proper names, especially if they're stupid. A matcha latte is "green foamy shit, you know." If the dish is named after someone, this chicken shop you frequent has an Ike's Famous Wings Bowl, he will call it "that bloke's chicken thing, the one with all the spices and shit on it." The worst was when he wanted to order the Foxx on the Roxx Boxx from TGI Fridays (yes that's the spelling, I looked it up), he straight up would not say its name, he just kept pointing at the menu and saying "fucking- this one."

Harvey SDV, sweet man that he is, will always sign off his text messages. It doesn't matter how long or short the message is. There's the standard "darling, I'm running a little bit late, would you like me to pick up something for dinner? Dr H" but there's also the "okay honey (: Dr H" or the "[insert picture of flower] Dr H". You've tried to explain to him that you know that it's him, that he doesn't need to sign off every time he messages you, but it's no use.

Andrew Neiman loves to collect random bits of niche trivia, but will straight up forget incredibly basic things. You two were out at a live music venue, sipping on your tasty little beverages, and he'll just bust out something about the similarities between jazz and Indian music, and while he's expanding on the influence of Ravi Shankar on Coltrane, he'll flip through the menu in front of him and ask you what margarine is.

Carmen Berzatto, common knowledge at this point, always keeps a book on him, which on its own is a very good thing. It keeps him from getting bored, you think it makes him look smart, it's a win by all accounts. But, save for when he's at work, he will whip that book out whenever there's any sort of lull in a conversation or if he's not physically doing something. You were talking to him about weekend plans, and he'll be listening intently because he's a good boyfriend who cares about your thoughts, but as soon as you go quiet to turn around to grab something he's flipping open his copy of The Reivers to quickly read a sentence.

Randal Graves loves to fake propose at restaurants for free shit. He makes a big thing out of it, will pull you aside before you enter Olive Garden and show you the tiny plastic ring he's used about three times already and whisper about the ruse he's about to pull, and all you can do is nod along with him. He's gotten more elaborate each time, from the basic garden-variety proposal, to putting it in your water, to asking to have it put in your Chipotle burrito (you had nearly swallowed it that time), managing to score a few free desserts and, at one point, a bottle of cheapo champagne that he got so incredibly slurshed on at home.

Warren Rojas has this game he likes to play whenever you two go to bars or nightclubs where he will pretend like you two don't know each other just so he can hit on you in the most cheesy ways known to man. Asking to buy you a drink, dumb pick-up lines, saying shit like "My name is Warren, but you can call me anytime." It's so incredibly dumb and he gets the biggest kick out of it. One time when you and Eddie were having a conversation at a party he totally pulled out the "Is this guy bothering you, babe?" He thinks he's so funny.

Jimmy Bartlett, whenever you two are cuddling, will set a timer so he knows when to switch from big spoon to little spoon. He'll bring up the egg timer from the kitchen and set it to 20 minutes before he joins you on his bed. You'll be half asleep after a long shift from work with his head buried in the back of your neck, and the next thing you know he's shuffling around while tiny beeps are sounding and he's somehow got your arms around him before you even realize what's happening, before drifting off again. He says it's only fair.

Miguel O'Hara is like a big dog with the temperament of a house cat; thinks he takes up less space than he does and always at least slightly grumpy. He'll get confused when he goes to put on a sweater that was originally yours (the communal wardrobe holds no prisoners) and finds it tight around his biceps. He knocks his forehead on low doorways constantly, you've taken to shouting 'duck' whenever you see him about to go through one. Watching movies on the couch with him, during a rare moment of peace, can be an ordeal because he always wants to lie down on top of you and you don't have the heart to tell him that he's crushing your lungs.

#angel torres x reader #jesse pinkman x reader #lemon x reader #tangerine x reader #harvey sdv x reader #andrew neiman x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #randal graves x reader #warren rojas x reader #jimmy bartlett x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #the gang's all here #multifandom preferences

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moderndaycassandra · 1 year ago

Text

We're both on the sidewalk, walking opposite directions, about to pass each other.

I look at your hair, gently flowing behind as you walk. I try to turn my gaze away, desperate to not seem like I'm staring, but it's too late. You've already noticed, and as you look me over you spot the lesbian flag pin on my purse. You smile to yourself and slow your pace so our pass takes longer. "I like your pin." you say with a hint of playfulness, pointing to my purse. I follow your finger to the flag and blush "Oh, uh, th-thanks. I like your hair." I stutter, face glowing red. You offer a cheeky smile as we walk by, and I turn my gaze to the sidewalk to hide my rosy cheeks.

The next day, we're at the same place again walking opposite directions. We offer another round of simple greetings and compliments. "Good morning!" "It's a cold one today." "Nice shirt, love that band." "New shoes?" This proceeds every day until the seventh. This time, you come to a full stop. "So, where are you headed?" you ask, taking a couple of steps backwards to stay next to me as I slow my pace and look up, meeting your eyes. They shine with sincerity. "Oh, uh, just getting coffee. There's a little cafe just up the road." Taking the unspoken invitation, you turn on your heel and begin to walk with me. "Yeah? Let me guess, Rose's Garden?" "Uh-huh. The one with the cat." "Mind if I tag along?" My brain bursts into flame as my face erupts a beautiful shade of red. I pull my scarf up nonchalantly to try and cover up. "S-sure." We walk in silence for a couple of steps before you grow bored of it. "So. You go to school here?" "N-no. My friend does and they needed a roommate, so I moved in with them. What about you?" "Yeah. Not quite sure what I want though. Just taking gen-ed for a year or two while I figure it out. I think I want to do something with biology maybe." "Heheh, I'm sure you'll....figure it out." My heart is beating so hard I'm surprised you haven't commented on the noise.

We arrive at the coffee shop and order our drinks. We take a table by the window and talk for twenty minutes or so between sips. We talk about our interests, make jokes, and slowly realize we have a lot in common. This becomes our new daily routine. We walk to the cafe, get coffee, and chat for a while, every day. At some point, we trade phone numbers and begin texting during our free time. Every time I see that little (1) pop up on my phone, the flame of passion ignites; I've just gotten a bit more used to it. After a couple of weeks, we start hanging out. You come to my apartment and I introduce you to my roommate, the next week I come to your house and meet your cat. At some point, we start going out. We never say the word date, but you don't go to roller rinks, mini-golf, cinema, attend weddings, and go to fancy dinners if you're just friends. At least, not this frequently, right?

A year or so later, we're lying on our backs on a grassy hill. The ground is chilled from the autumn air, but that doesn't dissuade us. Our laughter dies down from the last joke you told as we stare at the clouds. I point one out that looks like a giraffe, your favorite animal. I turn my head to see if you're looking. And you are, but not at the cloud, you're looking at me. That same sparkle in your eyes and joy in your smile. "I love you." you say quietly. We've both said it before, plenty of times. But always as friends, purely platonic. This time, it's different. Something about those three words feels different. You mean it. "I-" my throat goes dry, the flame in my brain erupts into an inferno and my arm goes limp, dropping into the grass. The edges of my vision fade away as I stare into your eyes. My face grows redder than it ever has before, only this time I don't try to hide it. "I love you too." You reach an arm behind my head and I reach behind your back as we pull each other close. Time loses all meaning as our lips meet and we kiss for the first time. The singular moment feels like it lasted an eternity, yet it wasn't nearly long enough. You pull away, leaving our lipsticks smeared and mixed.

The next year goes by fairly slowly, not too different from the first. Only now, we're not just friends, we're partners. You're my girlfriend, and I'm yours. The passion and excitement still hasn't died down. Years go by, you graduate college and get a job. I go back to school and get my degree. We have two kids and we watch as they grow up and go through school and find themselves partners, just as we found each other. Decades later, one of us dies, leaving the other alone. Which one is which? It doesn't really matter. By this point, our selves are so ingrained into each other that we're incomplete, merely two parts of a whole, but one part is missing. It isn't long before the other passes, and we rejoin in eternity, a loving embrace that lasts forever.

Then, I blink. We're back on the sidewalk that first day and I'm staring at your hair. You notice, then look at my purse. You open your mouth as if to say something, but decide against it.

We pass each other in silence.

#lgbtqia #lesbian #wlw #sapphic #pride #queer #lesbian yearning #sapphic yearning #wlw yearning

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fantasyinallforms · 2 years ago

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Hello! I figured it was about time I put together a masterlist as I have a growing number of WIP's and stories! Most of what I write is Bagginshield, but you will find a few Good Omens or Our Flag Means Death fics peppered in.

~~~

✨Current ongoing fics/ Multi-chapter completed stories.��

Sparks & Gardens 7/? chapters {M} Bagginshield

The Burden Of Choice-12/12 Chapters {E}-Bagginshield 56K

The Heart Remembers What The Mind Forgets- 4/4 chapters {E}- Bagginshield 34k

You Should Be Safe With Me 8/8 Chapters {E} Bagginshield 35k

A Most Unlikely Dance Partner 7/7 Chapters {T} Bagginshield 25k

✨Series ✨

Happy Accidents 3 parts {G-E} Bagginshield

Dis has dragged Thorin to a plant and sip outing with her and the boys for their birthday. Thorin isn't any good with plants but reluctantly goes anyway and finds himself pleasantly enchanted by the shop's owner. His black thumb and wandering mind cause him to make a fool of himself, and it might just be the best thing that has ever happened to him.

Tales on the Road to Erebor {T} Bagginshield

These are 1k-3k drabbles that take place on the road to Erebor. They are episodic stories that take place in the same universe. Chapter Chapter 1-Questionable Decisions Chapter 2-Wild Thoughts In The Dead Of Night Chapter 3- Better on your lips

✨One-Shots✨

Bagginshield One-Shot series {G-E}

A series of Bagginshield one-shots that can be enjoyed completely separately from each other. The series is just a way to organize my growing collection of stories so they are easier to find.

Remembrance {T} Bagginshield (Sad Fic)

Bilbo visits Erebor after 30 long years. While there, he visits Thorin's tomb and speaks to his grave.

🌶️ PWP One-Shot series {E}🌶️

A series of porn without plot one shots which can all be enjoyed entirely independently of each other.

Jealous Burning Desire {E} Aziracrow

Do You Want To Live Forever? {T} Jayvik

✨Compilations✨

2023 SFW drabbles

2023 Kinktober Drabbles

💫Search the tag FIAF(me) fics here on my Tumblr to find some Tumblr-exclusive drabbles as well!💫

#bagginshield #the hobbit #thilbo #bilbo x thorin #aziracrow #FIAF(me) fics #jayvik

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forthegothicheroine · 5 months ago

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Congratulations on your turn as Iris! I'm so happy to hear you're treading the boards again!

I might get the chance to visit San Francisco early in next year, and I was wondering if you might have any suggestions of fun things to do, off the beaten path a bit, in the colder months in that fair city?

I greatly apologize for taking so long to answer this! While many of my favorite things are gone (I still weep for steampunk stores and revival movie houses,) there are still cool, unique things to do on a trip. Here are some of them which were open as of a year ago.

Japantown Mall: The best place to be, hands down. The mall itself has amazing authentic Japanese food, a giant half-Japanese and half-English bookstore with a whole level devoted to manga and light novels, and lots of small stalls of crepes and boba tea. Across the street you'll find the Crown and Crumpet, a cute tea room with an upper floor that sells EGL brands. Even if you don't buy anything, just walking around is a great day!

Golden Gate Park: Take a walk and see the beauty of nature! Have a snack at the Japanese Tea Garden while admiring the koi pond! If the tickets aren't too expensive, go to the Academy of Sciences aquarium and say hi to the albino alligator for me! Admire the Shakespeare garden if it's in season! Another fun place to be for a whole afternoon.

Lupa Trattoria: The best Italian food I've ever had in the United States.

Haight-Ashbury: While not the goth and hippie paradise it used to be, this is still a cool couple streets. There's a science fiction bookstore called Borderlands, another cool indie bookstore called Booksmith, a huge vintage clothing store called Relic Vintage, and some pretty good thrift stores as well.

City Lights: Not done book shopping? Go to the place that published beat generation writings back in the day, which now sells an eclectic collection of intellectual, classic and offbeat titles. When I would get a book and go read it at the nearbye Cafe Zoetrope, I felt like the coolest person in the world.

Pier 39 Sea Lions: Sea lions!!! An earthquake sent them here, and they've stayed here ever since. They sit on a bunch of large rafts wrestling, showing off, or sleeping in the sun. They always cheered me up.

Exploratorium: A totally unique science museum that encourages you to touch and interact with the exhibits. They have special presentations as well, so check the website to see what's going on

Musée Mécanique: Do you want to take a headlong plunge into the uncanny valley? Of course you do! This free mini-museum has animations and carnival games from yesteryear, and the huge and terrifying Laughing Sally. It's in walking distance of Pier 39, too.

Lovejoy's Tea Room: They catered my wedding!!! Great tea and pastries, and a super cozy atmosphere, plus you sometimes get to see egl friends have meetups in gorgeous attire.

The Castro: As gentrified as it's gotten, there's still something wonderful about a neighborhood with rainbow crosswalks and pride flags waving everywhere. Sob outside of the late lamented Castro Theater (now a concert venue,) go to a souvenir store, walk down to Bi-Rite Creamery for ice cream if the line isn't too long.

Bourbon and Branch, Smuggler's Cove: If you like vintage cocktails, have a night out at Bourbon and Branch, a retro speakeasy, or Smuggler's Cove, an amazing tiki bar. Call ahead for B&B, since you need reservations and the password.

Folsom Street Fair: If you ever go again in summer and are not squicked by kink, check out this fetish festival! (And no, scaremongers, children can not actually get in and be traumatized by this, as they check your ID.) Buy a corset, have experts tie you up, get sex ed from guys who've been teaching it for fifty years, see everybody in their awesome outfits. (It is somehow always on the hottest day of the year, though, so stay hydrated, especially if you're in head to toe leather.)

The Alamo Drafthouse: While not unique to San Francisco, I'm always happy to be in a city that has one of these. This movie theater shows new films, classics and cult favorites, and you can order food while you watch (try the milkshakes!) One of my best moviegoing experiences was when they showed The Lost Boys, and all the goths in the lobby looked at each other and nodded, like yeah, we all know why we're here.

#san francisco

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cottoncandy-cult · 2 years ago

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Babification Octavinelle

INTRO/Dorm Selection Includes: Azul, Floyd, Jade

@azulashengrottospiano I finally did it! Now just 5 more dorms and 18 characters to go XD

Remember this is a fem reader insert with she/her pronouns

Azul had been in the Octavinelle dorm lounge with Floyd and Jade discussing work, it was one of their few days off and they were talking about some new renovations Azul planned to do to the monstro lounge. Floyd believed they needed some kind of gift shop, while Jade believed they needed a garden cafe. Azul had planned to consult with his sweet (Y/n), she had been lending him a hand in the creativity department for a while now. It helped that she seemed to know so many people, but given how deeply involved she has been in each dorm it isn't much of a surprise. As Azul was checking his phone had was also attempting to tune out the rambles of the tweels, Floyd trying to correct something that Jade said involving fashion as usual. Azul often tried to tune those conversations out, he couldn't understand a word Floyd said when he was talking about fashion. Though this chaotic peace had been interupted when Lilia just seemed to drop out of the sky infront of them, the twins near jumping behind the couch from the sudden and silent appearance. It took every ounce of muscle control in Azul not to do the same thing, he had an image he had to uphold and getting scared behind the couch was not something that helped said image. "Hello Lilia, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He had spoken to Lilia on occasion, especially since he often showed up to events in Malleus's place, but he never expected to see the short male in the Octavinelle dorm. The monstro lounge maybe, he did come in every now and then for a treat, but the fact that he was in the dorm lounge caused a few pink flags to pop up. Though those pink flags were soon crimson read as he spotted the child cradled against the male's chest, especially since the child was swaddled in an oversized ramshackle dorm uniform jacket. The fae male chuckled as he noticed the vague way the merman paled, tilting his head with a closed eye smile. "(Y/n) actually, is the reason I'm here. You see, this sweet little girl was the victim of small potionology accident." Azul quirked an eyebrow as the tweels were peaking down at the sleeping prefect in Lilia's arms, he himself was trying not to swear as he already knew where this was going when Lilia started retelling the events in class.

At the end of it Azul was squeezing the bridge of his nose, what God did she piss off to be in the middle of the most chaotic accidents EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. "Don't worry though, Professor Crewel is working with the headmage to fix this. He should be by soon with what he called a 'Baby bag' so that she can be taken care of in the meantime." Lilia carefully passed the sleeping girl to Azul, helping the tense male hold the small girl when he realized that he didn't know how to hold a baby. He then sat her school bag by Floyd, her other clothing articles were hidden inside because Lilia was a gentleman like that. "My number is in her phone; I've raised a few babies in my day so if you need some help just call."

It had been a few hours since then, the professor having come by to drop off the baby bag with a book borrowed from the college library about unplanned parenting for young adults. A book he never in his life thought he would EVER be reading; she has been the first of many things for him and at this point he was curious how she managed to create such a chaotic balance of experiences. He had relaxed a bit after getting used to holding her for a while and soon enough he found himself staring at her, he never thought about what she may have looked like as a baby even after she had seen some of his childhood photos. Currently he sat in the pool that was built into his dorm leader room, he was leaning back against the wall of the pool as he watched (Y/n). She had been awake for a while; he had thought that maybe she was aware of the situation because she had been fairly quiet and wasn't very fussy. Currently he was in his merform, something he had grown comfortable with her being around after their many trips to the beach. His sleek black tentacles held her in the water, she was in a little (F/c) swim dress and sat comfortably on his curled tentacles. Her tiny hands gently grabbing at the other tentacles that would poke her nose or tickle her sides or cheeks, he hadn't had any prior experience with human children, so he had found himself quite distracted by her reactions to him. He especially loved how her nose crinkled when she giggled, something he noticed before in her regular age but was much more obvious now in this form. "It isn't fair angel fish; how can you be so cute after causing so much trouble." He chuckled as he brought her closer, rubbing his cheek on hers as he rested her against his chest. It was a quiet night and all things considered he was in a content mood. He watched her tiny hands move against his pale grey skin, tiny eyes marveling at the odd texture. He felt so proud of himself, adoring just how curious she was about HIM. It was definitely an ego boost, he knew she cared for him and found him interesting but as an infant it was such innocent and blatant curiosity. And since she was a baby, he didn't have to feel embarrassed about anything! I mean who are you going to tell? The stuffed dalmatian toy professor Crewel had put in the baby bag? His eyes widened a bit when he felt her tiny hands grab his cheeks, laughing away at something he had no clue about. He didn't know how long it would be till she was turned back, but these moments would certainly make any hassle or stress until that point worth it. He went back to using his tentacles to help her play and swim in the water, buying him some time to think of the future. He found himself hoping, now more than ever, that his future would involve her for many years to come.

Floyd had been running laps at the start of gym class when Coach Vargas had called him over to his office, he noticed Lilia was sitting in front of the coach's desk and he could tell the male was holding something but didn't quite know what. "What's goin on? Why is Mendako here?" (Yes, I'm using the Japanese nicknames cause calling Lilia a flapjack octopus in English just feels insulting. LMFAO) Floyd put his hands on his hips, tilting his head slightly as Lilia stood from his seat. "Well, young Lilia said there was some sort of accident in potionology involving the ramshackle prefect. I'll let him explain, I got stretches to demonstrate!" With that Vargas had left the room, as if he didn't just stir something in the merman. Lilia seemed to sense Floyd's shift in behavior, approaching him with a jacket swaddled infant. "Don't worry (Y/n)'s just fine, she just a little…little." He chuckled as he motioned to the infant, watching Floyd squat to be able to look at her better. Lilia took the chance to show him how to hold her while he explained the situation, chuckling to himself at the end as he saw how Floyd had the small girl resting perfectly on his large forearm. "So, I'm just supposed to take care of shrimpy til Ishidai finds a way to turn her back?" Floyd's heterochromic eyes gazed down at the child in his arm, tilting his head. His shrimpy was already pretty small, but now she was TINY. He couldn't help but chuckle, her cheeks were just so chubby he couldn't help but poke them. Are all human babies so warm and squishy? Or was his cute little shrimpy just extra special like that? "Yep, that sums it up. Professor Crewel should be by to drop off a bag of supplies for her soon. For now, he just asked I bring this to you since he knows you would probably need your hands free." Lilia held up a black and teal harness, a little gold charm dangling from the zipper on the back. "Huh, I didn't know they made functional harnesses." The male was aware that they were sometimes worn simply as decoration for an outfit, but he didn't know humans had harnesses just for baby carrying. "Mhm, let me hold her while you put it on. Once we get her settled, I need to get back to Diasomnia before my own kids stir up trouble." He chuckled at Floyd's confused look, but true to his word once the sleeping child was comfortably snug to Floyd's chest the batty male had left for his dorm. Floyd had left the office and took his lover's stuff to where his own was, looking down at the small girl and wondering how long it would take to have his normal shrimpy back. He had already tried to talk to her 3 times, each time forgetting she couldn't talk back, and he really missed his shrimpy's voice.

Because he had the prefect in his care, he didn't have to do the daily exercises, instead being told to just walk around the basketball court until free time started. He could feel eyes on him as he walked around, he didn't really care because if they were smart, he knew they'd keep their mouths shut about him with his baby shrimpy. He slowly came to a stop when she started squirming, he rested his hand on her back as he watched her closely. Observing how her tiny (E/c) eyes opened with a whiny yawn as she soon began watching him back, tiny head tilting as she looked at him curiously. He chuckled a little at how her tiny hands reached up and padded at the bottom of his cheek, making him lean down as best he could so she could do her thing. He quietly observed with a lazy smirk as she tugged gently on his bangs and patted his cheeks, he didn't know if she was trying to communicate or was just being a curious baby, but he found it quite amusing in an adorable way. Though his moment was interrupted when professor Crewel approached him with a large bag on his arm, cartoon fish covering the outside of it. "Glad to see you aren't breaking down yet, surprising given how most of the students in this school would probably react in your situation." Floyd looked up to Crewel, chuckling some as he scratched the back of his head. "Well, she did just wake up, hopefully shrimpy will be a good girl until we can get back to the dorm." He followed Crewel after the professor motioned him to follow, watching as they made their way to the lockeroom. "Well, we hope to have her sorted out by the end of the week, till then I need to at least make sure you're prepared for childcare. Tell me, what do you know about diapers?" Crewel couldn't help but chuckle at the male's confusion, this was going to be an adventure. Thankfully Floyd was a quick learner, especially when it came to something he cares about. So, it wasn't long before he was returning to class, his shrimpy in a cute little mermaid jumper and the baby bag resting on his shoulder as he filled a bottle with some juice. Free time had started and those that weren't gathering things to take outside were now gawking at the tall male, especially those like Jamil and Riddle who were quite familiar with the male.

Riddle had been the very first to approach him at that, his curiosity getting the best of him. "So Floyd, who's baby is that?" Riddle tilted his head as he observed the child, something about her feeling oddly familiar. Floyd looked down at the little red head, chuckling as he held the bottle for her so she could have a drink. "My shrimpy had a little accident in potionology, so I've gotta watch her until Ishidai can turn her back." That made Riddle's eyes widen, he seemed so calm despite the fact his significant other had been turned into an infant. "That's certainly interesting, never a boring day with the prefect around huh?" This had been Jamil; he was standing nearby as he looked for a volleyball in the ball cart. When he finally found one, he stood up straight and approached the two as he looked at the little girl. The innocent look in her eyes reminded him of when Kalim was still real young, he was actually pretty cute back then in Jamil's opinion but that could have been because there wasn't much Kalim could do. "Wait if you're watching (Y/n)… Who's watching Grim?" This thought had Riddle freezing a bit, the group going silent before Floyd shrugged. "Idunno, not my problem though." And with a chuckle he walked away, the two male's making eye contact and agreeing to go see Crowley since they knew it wasn't wise to leave the fiery cat unsupervised.

The calmer leech twin smiled as he sat in the vip room of the monstro lounge, Lilia had brought (Y/n) to him earlier and professor Crewel had just left after dropping off the baby bag and teaching him a few things about human babies. He had the small girl cradled to his chest as he fed her, it felt oddly domestic to the male as he was usually helping Floyd deal with problematic people or trying to balance a busy schedule. He had always had a tendency to try and be much lighter handed and gentle since coming on land, it wasn't until now that he realized just how essential that was. She weighed practically nothing to him; he was almost concerned but trusted Crewel when he had said she was just fine aside from being babyfied. "What am I going to do with you darling? How is it you manage to end up in these situations even without Grim?" He chuckled as he poked her cheek, his smile widening as she grabbed his finger with a huff while still drinking from the bottle. He hadn't had much experience with babies before, especially not with human babies, so he was fascinated by everything she did. Trying to see what she does differently compared to when she is her regular self, as well as just enjoying her reactions to the things he has done and showed her. He had just brought her back from the giant fish tank in the lounge to feed her, the way her eyes lit up and her tiny hands gently touching the glass as she watched all the colorful fish had made him delighted. He knew no matter what he'd be even more attached to his sweet angel fish, for once she was completely reliant on him. He could spoil and care for her the way he wanted, and she couldn't stop him and didn't seem aware enough to feel guilty as she usually does when he tries to tend to her. Granted there were some things he wasn't looking forward too, but he understood the naturalness of it all and was more than capable of overlooking and forgetting about anything that may make her selfconscious. His goal was just to keep her healthy, safe and loved until she could return to her normal self. He reached over for his phone with a grin, quick to turn on the camera. He decided to make the best of the situation, and that included getting plenty of pictures of her cute pudgy face. He couldn't wait to show the pictures back to her, so he was careful and picky about the selfies he took with her and of the pictures he took of her as a whole. He wanted the absolute cutest ones to show her, and possibly any other poor soul who might be curious. Though he was quick to put his phone away when she pushed the mostly empty bottle away, which he moved to sit on the coffee table as he placed his legs together and rested her along his thighs. Crewel had showed him this video he claimed would be better for her than burping her like they do on tv shows, in which he was slightly moving her body and somewhat rubbing her stomach. This was supposed to reduce the chances of her spitting up and help her digest better so the milk isn't just setting in place in her stomach. It was a somewhat complicated explanation, but he understood that it was meant to be the better method and that was what he was going to do. Her little giggles made him chuckle, and the slight surprised face she made at her little burp had him slumping over a little as he laughed. Being an infant, she didn't have much conscious control over her actions or expressions, and he was absolutely loving it. "Always so interesting my little angle fish, you always manage to make my day so fun." He was careful as he lifted her to rest on his chest, leaning back some as he moved a small cover over her back. He rested a large hand over her body, observing how it covered the small space and taking note just how tiny she was compared to him.

"Come on (Y/n) it's nap time, you've been awake for a while now. When we get back to the dorm, I'll set up some toys for you to play with on the bed." He moved his other hand to gently cup the back of her head, smiling down at her half-lidded gaze as her tiny hands crumpled his shirt. Since it was her first day as a baby, he figured she may be pretty low energy, at least for a while after the transformation. Because of this he knew things may be a bit more hectic tomorrow, but Crewel promised to make the other teachers aware of the situation so he should be able to step out of class when she gets fussy or maybe even just pick up some notes and class work until she is back to normal. He'd make it work either way, after all she was turned on school property and in class, so they were technically responsible for this transformation. He knew Crowley wouldn't push his luck with the octo-trio, it would be bad for business as they say. Afterall Octavinelle does a lot in means of helping with school funding and events, and Azul was smart enough to find a way to get what he wants without jeopardizing himself. But that was nuclear level thinking, right now he just needed to worry about not falling asleep himself.

#twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech #Jade leech #x reader #x fem reader #reader insert #sfw #babyfication event #candy cult vault

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