#drunk dazed was number 1!!!!

[rikiconne]

hi, everyone! i'm finally back home now :)

i'm feeling a lot better! thank you to everyone who sent nice messages to my inbox 🫶

i'll be posting hee's fic either tomorrow or friday! :)

thank you for being patient with me! 🖤🖤

also..........

enha was my top artist this year :D i'm ngl.... i listened to drunk dazed sm this year 😭 it carried me thru exams and even scored me my job (i'm a choreographer 🥰)

bite me and moonstruck were in my top 5 as well :)

[gutsby]

Halftime

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: A chance meeting a week before Thanksgiving leaves you and your dad’s best friend to handle your feelings the only way you know how: fucking on the couch when your dad falls asleep during the game.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Age gap. Soft dom!Joel. Daddy kink. Praise kink (!) Makeup sex. Pussy pronouns.

Note: ‘Or maybe on a fifty yard line watchin’ Bama beat the hell out of Tennessee’ is a line from Riley Green’s ‘Hell of a Way to Go.’ I was in Knoxville when we played this year, but in my fic, Alabama wins. If you’re a Vols fan, I’m sorry. And RMFT.

Word count: 10.5k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Guilt brought you home, and liquor helped you stay.

These were two of the shittiest things a daughter could admit, but the fact was that you simply wouldn’t be here if your dad hadn’t broken his leg at work last week. That you wanted to help, but your patience was thin, and the only way you knew how to reconcile the two was to drink. A lot. Friday you came home, and by midday Saturday, sometime around eleven or twelve, you were plastered.

Staggering up the front steps of your childhood home with Theresa Servopoulos—newfound friend from camp and the heaviest drinker you’d met in a long, long time—hot on your heels. You’d just had brunch, and the meal was mostly liquid. Bottomless mimosas had been Frank’s idea, and when his husband Bill had offered to be the DD after the fact, you’d had no choice but to accept, really. You drank your weight in citrus and champagne and spent the whole morning getting to know Tess’s friends. As your state of intoxication progressed, you’d told them your troubles and all that had been plaguing you lately.

Now, hours later, you didn’t want to think at all.

You wanted to sit your ass down on the couch, turn the TV on to Disney+, and spend the next three to thirteen more binging Star Wars spin-offs and discussing with Tess at length whether Katee Sackhoff or Timothy Olyphant was the more fuckable supporting actor.

“Honestly…I’d let Jabba the Hutt hit,” you confessed, slurring your words a little as you fumbled for your key.

“You’re fucking lying,” Tess half-groaned, half-laughed.

She watched you try and jam metal into metal and fail twice before steeling herself against a rocking chair and reaching out her hand. You waved it away. At a distance, you heard the hum of an engine and another voice, loud:

“You ladies need a little help over there or wha-at?”

That was Frank. He was arguably the most drunk out of the three of you and hanging his handsome, greying head out of the passenger side of Bill’s Chevy S-10. He’d seen you try and fail with the key, too, and seemed more eager than ever to lend a hand, while his husband was likely kicking himself for ever offering to drive you back.

Tess gripped the porch chair harder and gestured, dazed.

“Give her a minute, she’s—” She hiccuped once. “—intelligent and entirely capable. She’s got this, OK?”

You didn’t. You really didn’t. And by the way you were finessing this key you didn’t feel too fucking smart either. You crammed your key against the tight, rigid slot in the front door of your home, missed it completely, and then wondered, dimly, how men were able to aim their dicks.

How Joel ever managed to fit that massive, throbbing—

“Fuck!” you cursed, kicking the doorframe with a huff.

The periphery of your vision was spinning and swimming a little now, and before you knew it, Tess had snatched your keychain from out of your hand. She got to work.

And while she did, you turned back to Bill and Frank, whose truck was still idling quietly in your driveway.

Frank had an eyebrow raised. His chin was in his palm, and his elbow was planted in the car’s open window. With that look alone, you knew what he wanted to say.

“Fine…fine,” you capitulated in a loud, droning shout. Head spinning, “You can give him my fucking number.”

Frank grinned at that.

“No shit?” he yelled back.

“Yeah. I really am that horny.”

From somewhere in the car, Bill groaned his disapproval. Frank’s smile only widened. It’d been his idea to set you up with one of their neighbors after you’d divulged all of your dating life turmoils over eggs benedict and grits that morning—how fucking your dad’s best friend had, in fact, not been the wisest decision and you needed something new to get your mind off the man for a little while. Frank had been all too happy to offer supplying your number to the so-called ‘dreamboat’ next door to them. Initially, you’d brushed it off, but the longer you stood on this porch contemplating the hellish few days you’d be spending at home for Thanksgiving, the more you drunkenly reasoned a dick might do you some good.

And if it wasn’t from Joel Miller, even better. You leaned against the nearest porch column and pointed at Frank.

Then at Bill, squinting dumbly and faux-accusingly.

“I’m desperate, but I’m trusting y’all, too, alright?”

You wanted to get fucked, not fucked over, again. Frank seemed to understand right away and nodded his head.

“I’ll give him your number, tell him you’re hot—which you are—and you two can work something out. It’ll be fine.”

He pointed back at you, still smiling, and you hoped it would be. Behind you, Tess had solved the puzzle of the chrome-plated house key, and had thrust the door open. She stumbled inside, and your feet started to follow hers.

“Tell Tess to text us your number!” Frank had to cup his hands saying it, as Bill was already starting to pull away.

You nodded and waved. Watched the world veer sideways and your kind, considerate, hammered new friend-of-a-friend repeat how great this was going to be—this guy’ll do you so good you’ll forget Joel exists—while you backed into the house. A gust of warm air from inside pricked at your skin, and along with that touch came the tiniest trace of hope. A sanguine sort of warmth that twisted low in your gut and made you smile.

And cup your hands, as Frank had, while calling to him:

“How old is Mr. Dreamboat, anyway?!”

The truck was crunching its ways down the gravel drive. Its path was slow, though, and Frank’s voice was clear.

“FORTY-ONE!”

It was as though you were hearing those words in a dream. You almost couldn’t help what you said next.

Fanning yourself, you yelled back, “I lo-o-o-ve that!”

“What?!”

Frank hadn’t heard you. They were farther away now.

You had to practically scream it now, but you were drunk enough that you didn’t really care. Tess was entertained, half-hunched on the floor and trying to work off her shoes while she laughed at this stupid exchange.

In truth, it didn’t matter how loud you yelled, because you lived on several dozen acres of land, and your dad wasn’t home. He’d told you that he was hitching a ride with Tommy to their usual weekend haunt to watch the Alabama-Tennessee game, and it started an hour ago. The house was empty, and you were free to screech.

“I said, ‘I love that’!”

“Yeah? Love what?!”

Frank was hanging halfway out of the passenger window by now, and his face was flushed with moronic humor.

Bill was probably grinding his teeth together as he drove.

“O-O-O-OLD MEN!” you shrilled, as loud as you could.

Next thing you knew, Tess was on the floor. Wheezing.

It didn’t matter whether Frank could hear you now; evidently, he’d gotten the message. Their truck was crawling down your drive with a low, rumbling crackle, and the eyes that were still glued to yours were shining.

Before they turned out of sight, Frank waved again and blew you a kiss, as you and Tess had done to him at some point earlier that day. He slipped back into the car, and your sides were nearly aching from how hard you were giggling—nothing was even that particularly funny, but with a nice noontime buzz and Tess’s relentless cackling from across the foyer, you couldn’t help it. You shut the door, staggered over, and were about to drop.

Right when you were about to collapse, though, Tess wobbled up. You saw her raise two hands in front of her.

“I’m— I’m gonna pee…or puke…possibly,” she warned.

That wasn’t good.

You pointed up.

“First door on your left. Do you need any—”

But Tess was already staggering off. You might’ve laughed again, and trailed after her with a plea to try not to projectile vomit all over those nice festive towels your dad had bought, but the moment came and went quick. In fact, it wasn’t even brought to an end by your friend’s departure but rather the screech of her feet on the floor.

Nearly tripping over herself to leave, then crashing into something else before she could. You heard a thwack.

Then her huff, ‘Fuck. Sorry!’ And you turned.

You looked up and cursed.

Again, you felt like you might be in a dream. Only this time, the sight had more of a nightmarish hue, and you had only to grip the edge of a chair—no, a table, a side table—beside you in the hall to keep yourself upright.

Your sweet, sloppy-drunk friend had run straight into Joel. She was raising her hands again and saying sorry.

You could tell she meant it, too. She was just shaking her head, appearing to try and rid herself of the stunned, dumbfounded feelings, when she tilted her chin up.

Then, somehow even brighter, she smiled in recognition.

“Lucien Flores!”

Not missing a beat, like you knew she wouldn’t:

“You fucking prick.”

Of course she was sober enough to remember his face. The time she’d mistaken him for an uptight FEDRA counselor back at camp. How you’d fucked him on her bunk. All the shit-talking you’d been doing about him since, too. You knew she wasn’t a woman to mince words, so it didn’t surprise you in the slightest when next she placed a hand on his pec, patted it lightly and added:

“You’re an asshole. A spineless, slimy, sad sack of shit.”

Joel blinked as she walked past him, toward the stairs.

“Good to see you, too, Tess.”

“Eat shit and die.”

“Theresa.”

You hadn’t even meant to say the last aloud; it just came out. Tess was holding the rail, going slow but determined to get upstairs without losing her food all over the floor.

The next thing you heard was the slam of the bathroom door. You winced and thought of your dad’s decorative towels a moment. That thought was then supplanted by another, though you pretended not to feel it, at least outwardly. You brushed past Joel to go to the kitchen.

Why was he here? He surely wouldn’t have come unless your father was there, and your dad was supposed to be watching the Vols take the ass-beating of a lifetime from the Tide. Or maybe vice-versa. You weren’t sure how the latter was doing since Saban retired. You rubbed one temple as you opened a cabinet and looked for a glass.

Reconsidering, you opted for a plastic cup instead.

Your head was throbbing as you walked to the sink.

You sensed you likely weren’t of a mind to be holding anything fragile, and the second that followed only proved it. A footfall sounded by the kitchen island, and you flinched, dropping your cup like a fucking idiot.

“Where’s my dad?” you blurted out, not thinking.

You didn’t want his voice to be the first to fill the silence. You picked your cup off the floor and turned on the tap.

More silence followed. You couldn’t be sure if it was your own drunken paranoia or a genuine feeling of two eyes on your back, but your skin bristled. You were prepared to pose the question again when your answer came in the form of a new sound: not Joel’s voice, but another’s.

An announcer, apparently. You turned your head and saw ESPN on the living room TV, where the game was playing. In front of the screen, your dad was supine on his recliner. His jaw hung slack, and his eyes were shut.

So much for those morning beers with Tommy.

His leg was armored with a boot: a real, no-bullshit cast meant to protect the tibia he’d shattered, propped up in front of him while the other dangled haphazardly from the chair. You watched him, feeling an odd mix of pity, nausea, and love, and for a second, you didn’t think to move. This man was the reason you were home, after all—and why Joel was, too. You almost forgot your anger.

Your cup was full. Overflowing. You turned off the sink, then poured what excess you could as your hand shook.

You shouldn’t have been holding anything in that moment, off-kilter and unnerved as you were, but you wanted to seem occupied. You inhaled and started past Joel again, who was leaning against the counter, quiet.

He still didn’t talk, and let you stroll about half a foot in front of him before you felt the cup lift out of your hand.

“Hey—” you started.

But Joel was resuming your path before you could finish. He’d snagged the water from your grasp and made his way out of the kitchen, calmly, and you didn’t have to ask to know where he was going. You felt a pang of rekindled resentment but said nothing, knowing that was useless.

Arrogant motherfucker. Patronizing asshole. Clearly, you couldn’t be trusted to carry a cup of fucking water up the stairs in your own home, so he had had to do it for you. You went over to your father in the living room, blinking through a dozen more pissed off thoughts, when you glanced down at one of your hands again. You winced.

Stop shaking.

You needed to stay busy. Make use of those dumb, trembling hands while Joel was here and not let him see that it was all from memories of him—not the mimosas—that you couldn’t keep a steady hold to save your life.

You started to clean, mindlessly. Cleared the old coffee table of its manifold beer cans and plates of stale pizza. You walked with an unsteady gait, the room still tilting a little, but you ended up getting a decent amount cradled in your arms and into the trash or the sink shortly after.

You had just taken a bite of a slice of pepperoni and made a face when your dad shifted in his seat, letting out a grunt. Still unconscious, he rubbed at his arms. The house around him was warm, but never quite enough for a man who appeared to have been born cold-blooded. After years of this, you knew the routine; you dropped your pizza, went to the thermostat, and cranked it to 75.

Less than a minute later, it came: “Boiling us alive, huh?”

It was the first you’d heard from Joel since he spoke his curt greeting to Tess. You were over by the closet getting a blanket, and Joel was stood in the doorway, frowning.

You turned, holding up the big wool throw for him to see before you went back over to your dad in the recliner.

“He needs it,” you replied, gaze averted.

“By ‘it’ you mean his electric bill gone through the roof?”

He could be such a father sometimes. The worst kind.

“No, keeping him fucking warm, Joel.”

And the end of the last sentence you hadn’t meant to be so loud. Or mean. You didn’t really care whether it offended him, but the thought of waking your dad to hear that—being rude to your ‘Uncle Joel,’ as your dad had so innocently called the man last month—was awful. You squinted seeing him stir under the blanket, but then he turned to the side and snored even louder. You sighed.

“Doctor’s got him on some heavy painkillers. He’s been out since before the last game even ended,” Joel said.

You glanced at the TV. The game was crawling to halftime at a snail’s pace, by the looks of it. You smiled, seeing those puke-pumpkin-hued fucks getting smoked. In a second, though, the curve of your lips was fading.

“Will you stop?”

Your voice was shrill. You hurried over to Joel, who was busy dicking around with the thermostat and trying to get it down to 68 degrees—freezing, in your dad’s mind.

“It’s too hot.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You’re being—”

“This isn’t your fuckin’ house, Miller! Quit!”

“Yell a little louder, why don’t y—” Joel began to scold.

You wouldn’t let him. Of all things to get on your ass about now, volume wasn’t the hill he’d die on today. Before you even realized what you two were doing, you shoulder-checked him like you might do an annoying brother, and his arm wound swiftly around your front. It didn’t hurt, but it sure as hell made you mad to be held.

You made a jab at Joel’s ribs and ignored the grunt from him. Anger was a natural defense—your default state.

Every last semi-tranquil encounter you’d shared with someone you cared about before was always marred by rage at some point, and with Joel, it came as easy as breathing. If you weren’t tearing each other’s clothes off, you were ripping him a new one, or he was grating your nerves. You didn’t get along, and you likely never would.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t need there somewhere. You just smothered it with something hostile, constantly.

You wished it would go away. You shoved at his arm.

“You’re gonna wake him,” you hissed, strained.

“Yeah? That’s what you’re worried about?”

You wriggled against Joel’s hold and, scrunching your nose, made a pass for the dial on the wall. He caught it.

Now he was holding your hand in one of his, and your shoulder with the other as his forearm crossed your chest. Joel’s frame was looming over yours, and you glared ahead of you, where the screen still read ‘68.’

You could throttle him—Joel Miller simply refused to lose

“Is that all you’ve gotta say to me, after this whole time?”

His breaths were tight like yours, but the voice was slow.

“What else is there to say?” you snapped.

“You’ve been ignoring me all month.”

“I’m in college. I have shit to do.”

“Like block all of my calls?”

“Go fuck yourself, Joel.”

“Just tell me why.”

“Fuck. You.”

Your last two caustic words were still warm on your tongue when Joel turned you around. Again, he wasn’t forceful or harsh—your looks had enough vitriol for the two of you—but he pushed your body against the wall. Right beside the thermostat, your spine straightened, and your legs wrapped reflexively around his waist.

“Is that an invitation?” he hummed, voice palpably lower.

Un-fucking-believable, you thought. Of course, it was.

Silently, you prided yourself in wearing a dress that day. It wasn’t the short, red-and-white gingham thing you’d worn to the fair with Joel last month, but it was loose. Flowing. Easy enough for him to hike up your legs, sliding a coarse, warm palm up your thigh while the other held you tight to the wall. His hips pinned yours, and with that gesture, you felt him hard and desperate in denim.

“Need me to fuck you now or what? Is that the only way I’m getting a word out of this mouth?” he pressed again.

Honestly, it was. You nodded once to say as much.

Then he pushed you harder against the wall. He wrestled with his jeans just enough for you to hear a belt, and a button, and a short, sharp zip come down, and your mind was swimming with filthy ideas when he grunted.

Joel nosed your cheek, and a hand made its way to your mouth. You sucked in a breath right before you felt three fingertips graze the seam of your lips. Prying them open.

“If I’m fucking you here, I need more than a nod, kid.”

You really, really hated him now. This felt like a game. His index curled into your bottom teeth and pulled your mouth open wider, while his own was smiling, faintly. It was hard to talk with his fingers skirting your tongue—his warm, bare member springing out and grazing your folds through your panties down below—but you tried.

Your words were muffled as you spoke, “Please fuck me.”

Clearly, that was all Joel needed. With an easy nudge from the head of his cock, he pushed your underwear to the side, and his grin got bigger when he felt you soaked.

You were drooling down his length, and he hadn’t so much as touched you before he pushed you up against his body. It felt almost shameful as he slid himself inside.

Then, in the next moment, your brain went blank. Your bodies were joined completely, and Joel had you seated all the way down to the base of his cock, where a tuft of salt-and-pepper hair tickled your skin. His fingers hung limply from your lips while he nestled in; when you groaned, he used his middle and index to stifle the noise.

“Shh, hey—” he started, as if suddenly remembering where he was, and whose daughter he was fucking, “You’re okay. You’re good…I know that feels good.”

You despised him even more when he was right. He pressed the heft of his belly into you, and with the friction, you couldn’t help but whimper against his hand.

“Fuck you,” you bit again, this time through fingers.

“I am.”

Then he pushed them in further, and he made you suck. Joel started fucking you gently against the wall, and with the first few strokes, you knew you’d be putty soon enough. You focused on feeling and trying not to whine.

“I’ve been texting,” Joel continued, breath labored, sounding half-crazed, “Calling every chance I got—”

He paused to jerk his hips harder. Make you bounce on his cock or maybe just hold him closer from the force of it. And you did, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and reluctantly burying your face into the side.

He was familiar, that was for sure. You tensed seeing something else familiar—your dad in the next room—and preemptively swallowed a moan while Joel kept going.

Fucking you stupid and talking to you, per usual.

“—to make sure you were OK,” he finished, panting.

Pulling his fingers from your lips so you could answer:

“I’m fine.”

“Are we?”

“You lied to me!”

And no sooner had he retracted his hand that he needed to clamp his palm over your mouth. You’d said that loud.

In the next room over, through the open space between the kitchen and the den, you heard your dad snore softly. When your gaze flitted back to Joel’s, it was like you were chiding the other at once—whose idea was this, anyway? Slowly, he moved his hand down, but his gaze was stern.

“Didn’t mean to lie,” Joel answered, now lower than ever.

“But you did. Dad’s been fucking his old sidepiece, my mom’s best friend, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was my place—”

“Your place?!” You made sure to keep your indignation hushed this time, but your eyes went wide. Incredulous.

You would’ve shoved Joel off if he hadn’t moved first. Neither one of you had had a fraction of the presence of mind to be thinking straight here, obviously, so when he carried you closer to a table in an adjoining room, all you were thinking was how not to lose your cool completely. When Joel tried to set you down on the wooden surface, you slipped away. You moved to the couch; you weren’t even considering where you were going, just that you wanted more of him, and you needed to be done quick.

If that meant fucking on the sofa behind your dad’s recliner, so be it. Joel balked a second before following.

“Are you…?” he started, voice no louder than a whisper.

“What? Not your ‘place’ here, either?” you shot back.

Admittedly, you were both insane. No matter how far away your dad’s sleeping form happened to be, or how thoroughly knocked out he appeared from the drugs, this was batshit, objectively. Joel’s eyes narrowed at you.

Then he moved some more. Casting a sidelong glance at the recliner less than ten feet away, he gripped himself and gave you a look as if to say, ‘Are we crazy now, or…?’

You nodded to confirm that you were.

By moving again, apparently, Joel was saying the same.

Except now it wasn’t with words but with a look—eyeing you hungrily and setting all rational, sane thought aside to climb over the couch to you. Your legs were spread.

Joel slotted himself quickly between them, then inside you, without another word. His body crowded yours. The scent you knew was also the fragrance you hated most: the smell of his American Spirits. He tried to kiss you with those lips, and you dodged them, choosing instead to hold the coarse greyish hairs at the nape of his neck and pull them. Draw him closer to your body without letting him get too close to you. Joel let out a grunt.

His hips rutted in short, quick, shallow motions again, like he was desperate to feel anything. When you wouldn’t accept his lips on yours, they fell to the side of your face. He held your sides while he dragged his cock in and out of your pulsing heat, and his breaths fanned heavy on your cheek. His stubble was sharp on your skin.

“Anything you want,” he huffed shortly.

His mouth was right by your ear, and his words were spoken in a breath. And another. And another. Still panting and dragging his old, weary hips back and forth in an effort to pleasure you. He felt indescribably good.

“Want…what?” you murmured back.

You clawed at his torso and locked your legs around his waist. You glanced over at the recliner, turned away from the couch, thankfully, and hoped it wouldn’t move again. Your dad’s breaths were deep, and so was Joel inside you

Sliding a hand under your head and cradling your body to his, and still maintaining a bruising pace with his cock—you almost couldn’t take it. You wanted to come undone.

And there Joel went, murmuring in your ear. Battling the urge not to get too loud with your father there, but still:

“I’ll do anything…anything you want.”

“W-Why? For what?”

“To say I’m sorry.”

“You don’t—”

But your words were cut short. For a second, your heart leapt into your throat thinking the sound was coming from your dad’s old chair, and then you realized that it wasn’t. Just the same, your terror spiked again when you sensed it was somewhere inside—coming from the back.

“Can I get a…ROLL TIDE?!” someone yelled.

Tommy Miller wasn’t even an Alabama fan.

Still, it seemed he was here to celebrate like one anyway. You froze momentarily, taking in the shout, then the steps, then the linoleum floor of the mud room being shuffled across before the boots were kicked off quick.

His brother was quicker. Joel climbed off of you in a blink, jeans and boxers trailing just as fast. Then his hands were dropping to you, gripping your arms, and heaving you up. You stumbled. You shoved your skirt down, fast, and barely had the time to breathe while you skittered after Joel, still in his hold. The two of you ran like hell: quiet, but like your asses might’ve been on fire. You made it out to the foyer, and from there, you could hear Tommy making a fuss in the kitchen. Joel strode three steps at a time going up the stairs, and behind him, you nearly face-planted. He tugged you up then, swiftly.

Silent as death at the top of the stairs and trying to usher you into a room, not saying a word. You dug in your heels

“Wait. Wait—Tess?”

“Napping in the tub.”

Of course. You cast one last pensive look at the bathroom door before you let Joel nudge you away.

You were pushed into a room; you knew it was yours. Steeped as you were in fear, shame, and lingering inebriation, you couldn’t waste a second getting in—and neither could Joel. His frame followed close while Tommy’s old, familiar sounds grew louder downstairs. He ushered you further, walked you forward, pushed you in an inch or two too far, and before you knew it, your knees were bumping along the front of your bed. You tripped.

Your hands flew out to break your fall. Unfortunately, the limbs that were meant to stay straight were weaker than you’d hoped, and instead of holding you up, they crumpled beneath your weight. You fell on your face.

The spot where you landed was soft, though.

You let out a muffled grunt into cotton sheets.

Across from where you lay, Joel’s steps were slow—painstakingly so—and when you’d propped yourself up and blinked again and again to adjust your eyes to the dim half-light of the room, you could see him there. Pacing. Skating a look to the doorknob, as if checking to make sure he’d locked the thing properly, then running a hand through his hair. From your perch, you saw a wince.

Then his face turned to you. Again—guilty.

What the fuck am I doing here with you?

That was what you thought you saw in his expression, anyway. You felt compelled to ask him the very same.

“Why are you here? Why is Tommy here?” As if to punctuate your question, more footfalls followed, loud, “I thought he was taking my dad to the bar. And you—”

“I know. He was supposed to. Then he texted and said your dad crashed before the Notre Dame game even ended, so he figured he’d head over to the bar himself.”

You were about to speak, but Joel continued.

“I said he was an idiot to leave your dad home alone, since the man can hardly walk on his own. So I came.”

You swallowed. While some momentary swell of gratitude threatened to constrict your throat, you forced out a frown and scooted back. The room swayed a little.

“That the only reason?” you asked, clipped.

At the foot of the bed, Joel held your gaze. It was stern. Your own vacillating look was no match for the man who, in spite of the two or ten beers he’d likely guzzled that morning, could stand firm. Prop his hands on his hips.

Look every bit the displeased fatherly figure while he watched you crawl across the plush, pink bed at length.

It wasn’t right. You saw it in his eyes: the want painted there, however burdened by shame they might’ve been. No doubt seeing your childhood bedroom had kicked the guilt into overdrive, reminding him, plainly, that he was his age, and you were yours. And his best friend’s kid. The irises that shone in the glow of warm white fairy lights overhead flitted to the canopy where they hung. Joel sized up the mesh overtaking most of your bed, all flowing and girlish and juvenile as it cascaded from the four wooden posters, and he had to shake his head. He blinked faster, as if trying to rid himself of some thought.

“I’ll go,” he choked out.

“Alright.”

You unzipped your dress and let it fall to the bed the second Joel had started to turn. He stopped. Got himself an eyeful and probably could’ve bruised every fingertip from how hard he tightened his grip along his belt loops.

He watched you slip out of the fabric, then brush it aside. Clothed in just your bra and panties, you went to the nightstand and opened a drawer. You leaned down.

And, while you kneeled and bent over to reach, Joel was afforded a too-perfect view of the wet patch in the fabric between your legs. You could’ve sworn you heard a groan before you crawled back over to the place where you’d been—American Spirits and a lighter now in your hand.

“Where’d you…” Joel started, only to lose his train of thought the moment you sat and unclasped your bra.

You lit up, comfortably. Nodding to the window.

“Mind opening that?” you asked him.

Joel stood back and stared. He squared his shoulders, seeming poised to say ‘no,’ when his gaze dropped lower.

“Those’ll kill you.” But he was just looking at your breasts

Reluctantly, he moved from where he’d fixed himself at the center of your room and walked over to the window. He slid the pane up, but he didn’t let his gaze stray from you too long. As soon as the smoke found a place to go, he turned. He shook his head again. You smiled, then.

“These are yours,” you replied. You bared your teeth at him with the cigarette in between them, teasing a little.

After, you closed your lips and inhaled once. You blew a breath through your nose and let the smoke trail out. Joel scowled as he took a step closer to your bed.

Somewhere downstairs Tommy had cranked the game up louder. You could hear the blare of fanfare and a booming, cheery voice announcing a first down.

Meanwhile, Joel’s jaw hadn’t flinched. His lips were still curled in that sour, unsightly grimace. He had to have gotten a good deal of practice doing that while you were away, with every text, call, and FaceTime you’d declined over the past month, you imagined. Now it wasn’t so much a matter of being ignored as it was getting smoke blown into his face that made him irritated. Galled, even.

Joel made a pass for your mouth as if to take the cigarette away, but you were too quick. You slid back.

“Finders keepers,” you chided, trying not to giggle.

“Give it.”

“Make me.”

“Kid, don’t start.”

Joel’s face was turning pink as he leaned in again. In no more than a second, though, you’d made it safely out of his reach. He had to plant a knee on your bedspread, grit his teeth even tighter, and stretch his frame further in, and just when he’d gotten within half a foot from where you sat perched at the head of the bed, you felt a snap.

Or perhaps heard a groan and surmised the rest. Joel cursed, ‘Fuck!’ then fell to his elbow, hissing with pain.

He gripped his side, and he winced. Your eyes went wide.

“Joel?”

The cigarette fell from your lips; as soon as it did, Joel swept a brusque, graceless touch in your direction. He held tight to his side while he swatted the thing away. The second the still-lit stick hit the covers, Joel had it brushed to the side, sending it flying off of your bed.

His nostrils flared when he stood again. He crushed the cigarette underfoot. He looked pleased—then pained.

“Joel!” you hissed. This time reaching for him, and catching him narrowly before he lurched into your bed.

“‘M’alright. Stop, stop. It’s okay.”

Joel grunted, low. He held one bedpost. He clutched somewhere on his body close to the small of his back, and you could tell he felt a strain. He noticeably tensed.

“I’m fine.” And then he was starting to wave you off, too, “Lifetime of smoking’ll do that to you. And turning forty.”

You believed him. What you wouldn’t accept was how fast he tried to bend down and retrieve the cigarette from the floor. His cheeks flushed red with the effort.

And just when he’d started to tilt, you tugged him back.

You gripped his shirt and yanked him onto the bed.

Maybe that wasn’t the best for the muscle he’d pulled. At any rate, though, it was better than straining another by trying to pick up a cigarette butt, you reasoned. You hadn’t even jerked him that hard, and your bed was soft. Joel fell with a thud amidst a sea of satin, plush faux fur, a half-dozen pillows, and a mound of stuffed animals. His lips frowned as if annoyed, but the eyes betrayed relief. He breathed out a shallow puff of air once he’d settled.

“You need to stop smoking.” Grumbling now, of course.

You wanted to pinch the pout clean off his mouth.

“Yeah, really, Joel? You first,” you shot back.

“I’m old.”

“No shit.”

“Watch it.”

For someone who’d practically thrown out his back just bending at the waist, Joel Miller loved to wax poetic on the dangers of Big Tobacco. And getting old. By the time he groaned and laid flat, you decided you’d had enough of this sexless intermission, and you straddled his hips.

“Wh—” Joel huffed in protest, pushing at hands all too eager to act on his belt, “You still haven’t answered me.”

“What was the question?” you returned, careless.

But you knew it clear as day: Are we alright?

The old man didn’t stop the path of your hands, but he certainly made a show to try and pretend to stall their speed. He watched, curiosity piqued and shame still roiling in his gut, and he let you unbuckle, unzip, and finally free him from the confines of his briefs. He sighed.

It was then that you felt him hard against your palm, firm as he was before. Your mouth watered even more. When your eyes flitted up to his for permission, you didn’t expect to find resistance there, so the subsequent grip around your wrist took you back. Joel seized hold of your hand in his, and, rather than stopping you completely, he paused it in place. Sank your touch into his groin, as though tempting you with the outline of his bare length.

That was cruel. He knew what feeling him did to you.

“You know exactly what question I meant.”

What such a move would do to any girl in your position—freshly fucked and eager for more—and in your bed, no less. You didn’t care for the guilt Joel harbored today; he didn’t get to demand answers you weren’t ready to give.

“What? Feeling bad for boning your friend’s kid all of a sudden?” You smiled, voice devoid of any humor as you tried to pivot subjects, “Didn’t look like that downstairs.”

Shame flared in Joel’s eyes. Two could play at this game.

His grip tightened around your wrist, and he kept it still. In spite of this hold, you were able to flex your fingers the tiniest bit and take him snugly in your hand. He held you, and you held him, and for the next few excruciating moments, that was all either of you could do. Until:

“I would do it again.”

And then Joel’s touch was moving yours. Rubbing him. Seizing your hip with his free hand and rocking you back.

Making you hold his gaze while his dick swelled bigger.

“I don’t care if that’s wrong,” he added through his teeth.

“Wrong,” you mumbled absently. Touching him more.

It was as though you both were rooted in place by warring feelings—Joel by guilt, and you by knowing. Needing each other, and being unable to break apart. Words flowed like molasses; their end was no less sweet.

“I’d fuck you anywhere you asked if you would just—” Joel broke off suddenly, taking a breath, “Forgive me.”

Please.

The eyes beneath yours were pained with remorse.

You squeezed him tighter, and you stared more carefully.

“Here?” It left you more like a breath.

“Here.”

Your skull still buzzed. Your vision still wavered some. You could scarcely hope to know what it was that made this man a worse intoxicant than every drink you’d guzzled that morning, but the way he reached for your body and slid you back in the bed made answers pointless anyway. All you needed to know was that he wanted you, too. You could sort out the rest of it later; you let him lie you down

Joel was out of place here, that much was obvious. Clearly, no man skating through middle age belonged in the bedroom of a girl as young as you—and that was overlooking the paternal connection altogether—but all the same, he guided you back. Trailed your body with his. If it weren’t for the greys and the striations on his face and the legions of freckles bred from decades spent baking under the sun, he might’ve struck you as a much younger man. His every move now seemed to show it.

His hands shook like yours had earlier.

He watched you slide under the covers, then swallowed.

“Still cold?”

“Yeah.”

He gave you a long look, as though considering what to say. You beckoned him over and decided to talk for him.

“Like father, like daughter, I guess,” you added. Teasing.

You could hear the groan start to bubble in his throat, but Joel let you pull him in. He climbed under the sheets.

Like a much younger, doubly nervous teen around his date past curfew, he slotted between your legs with a moment’s indecision. He shed his clothes but was slow. Your gaze flitted to his torso, then his legs, and watching him gingerly undress, you couldn’t help but grin a little.

Both of you were naked in under a minute. Joel’s body was like a furnace searing hot between your thighs.

And while you smiled at him, he frowned down at you.

You might’ve expected anything next, except hearing:

“We aren’t gonna be parents anytime soon, right?”

You choked.

“What?”

Joel blinked.

“The Plan B, I mean,” he went on, color crawling up to his cheeks. He blinked harder, like he’d been dreading this, “Wasn’t sure if you ever got your…yeah. Just wonderin’.”

Just wondering.

After Joel’s Cenozoic-era condom had broken the first time you two had ever fucked, you realized you hadn’t bothered to tell him if you ended up getting your period. He’d probably been trying to ask that over the course of several dozen unanswered texts and calls the last month, but you’d been radio silent. Your drinking today had to have given the truth away, but you still felt a pang of guilt

You admired his sincerity. You didn’t want to mock it.

But when your lips twitched the tiniest bit, Joel’s did too. He’d heaved a sigh of relief before you’d even answered him in words, and for a moment, things were easy again.

“I’m sorry, Miller. That probably had you scared shitless.”

“It did.”

And, under most other circumstances, you probably would’ve expected him to chastise you for it a little. Chide you for your immaturity and shake his head, because this was always how it went. But he didn’t.

Joel smiled back instead, and he kissed your forehead.

You blinked, shortly summoning words to try and deflect.

“I mean, like…can you even imagine us having a kid?”

“I can’t. I think I’d be…” Joel trailed off, at a loss.

“Pissed to be changing diapers in your fifties, I bet,” you finished for him, and that made him laugh. You joined in, grinning, and for a second you almost forgot he was still between your legs. His cock softened against your belly.

“You’d be a hot mom. I’d be an old dad,” he countered, suddenly lowering his face to kiss and nuzzle your neck. When the ebbs of your laughter were renewed in a fit of giggles, and your feet kicked helplessly under the covers as he used his mouth and hands to tickle you then, you had to choke through your words—‘Joel, stop, I mean it.’

“Ticklish and hot, I forgot.”

His fingers were relentless on your ribs. You kicked again.

“Don’t fucking test me. I—I will kick you out,” you warned

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Go on, then.”

Evidently, the thought of ordering him back downstairs with your dad and Tommy seemed like the least likely outcome at the moment, so Joel kept tickling you. He moved his lips to your ear, about to whisper something stupid and teasing, most likely, when you jerked yourself the other way. You slid just far enough to reach off the bed. While you clawed at your nightstand, Joel simply draped his body over yours and went on kissing and touching and relishing the sounds you were making—even while you were cursing his name under your breath.

“Go. Go. Enough of this shit, Miller,” you finally told him, nudging Joel back and waving something in his face.

“Wh—”

“Since getting knocked up is the last thing either of us wants, and we’ve been terrible about playing it safe…”

It didn’t take long for Joel to recognize what it was. As soon as he’d lifted his head to ogle it, you didn’t let him stare at the box of condoms for more than a second or two before tearing it open. Its seal had still been intact.

“New stash for someone special?” Joel hummed, low.

“Nope. Just you.”

Your old friend didn’t seem to appreciate that remark, returning your smirk with a roll of his eyes, but he took the metallic-wrapped rubber when you offered him one anyway. He tore off the top. He probably would’ve liked to put the thing on, but with all the time and brainless banter that had passed, he had to get himself hard again. He eyed you once, and, wrapping a hand around himself semi-erect, he seemed to want to say something more.

You wouldn’t let him. You kissed him, and he kissed back, and with your legs sliding around the backs of his own underneath the soft, warm sheets, he probably forgot what he was going to say. Your lips and tongues intertwined without needing those words to be spoken, and before long, Joel was growing harder. He sucked in a breath when your hand reached down to touch him, soft.

Joel grunted when your touch replaced his. While you stroked his length, you could see the muscles tense in his stomach. The heft of his belly was smooth, and firm, and protruding with little patches of black and grey hairs, and the man looked so undone already with just your fingers curling over his shaft. You would’ve held him that way for as long as he asked. Would’ve relished the warmth of him in your hand, the way his breaths grew more ragged as he kissed you and let you pump him gently between your body and his. You might’ve mistaken it for something romantic when he reached up and brushed the hair out of your face, before pulling away and mumbling, ‘That’s it. That feels real good, sweetheart. You’re doin’ so good.’ But being the way you were, you couldn’t accept such intimacy without wanting to shy away. You pushed his words aside and reached for the condom in his hand, swallowing thickly as you did.

The latex went on quickly. Joel hardly seemed of a mind to try and slow things down with his body just as taut, on edge, and desperate as yours. He planted an arm beside your head, and you guided his length between your legs. It felt cozy. Tender. Nervous like this could’ve been your first. A little strange seeing how you’d done this multiple times before—had started it just downstairs, against a wall and on the couch—and somehow, felt different now.

Joel sank in, and both of you groaned.

“I missed you, baby.”

It came from him all in the same breath. Your walls clenched, and he said it again. You peered up at the man, half-expecting to see his eyes shut and the feeling of you guiding his words more than anything else—he hadn’t meant you, but what was between your legs. But when you looked, you met his gaze. Joel was earnest, clearly.

“Did you miss me?” he panted, hips dragging back.

With the head of his cock drawn all the way up to your entrance, tip stretching that soft, sticky flesh, you could scarcely do more than whimper. You laced your fingers together behind his neck, felt him push in again, and suddenly, the sensations churning low in your gut got warmer. Stronger. They made you want to hold on longer

He felt so big inside you. Overwhelming you with his size and his scent and the way his lips trailed over yours while he fucked you; it all seemed too much to give a response.

Joel kissed you again, and your bodies fell into a rhythm. You squeezed his neck, let out a breathy whine when his cock grazed something soft and sensitive between your walls, and then pulled away fully to look down and watch.

He did too. He kissed the crown of your head, mumbling:

“See how good we fit?”

Those words could’ve sent you over the edge. Your body shuddered at the next thrust, feeling the warmth of his breath still fanning across your face, and you nodded.

Your eyes all but glazed over as you watched Joel’s big, glistening cock disappear and reappear from inside your body, coated with your arousal and the rubber and looking every bit as dizzyingly good as it had before. The wet noises only increased in volume the more he sped up, and with the need blossoming in your stomach, you had no choice but to moan. Joel plunged even deeper.

“Did she miss me, at least? Did she miss her daddy?”

Your walls clenched at those words—‘she,’ ‘daddy.’

Still, you couldn’t speak. You just nodded back.

Joel’s motions grew stronger, and with every stroke inside you, his cock hit something plush and sweet. You had to bite your lip to keep the sounds from coming out too loud, but the effort was almost wholly in vain. The harder he went, the more your throat came to betray you. The more Joel seemed keen on getting you to speak.

“Feels like she does, hon,” he said, tone dulcet and low, “Pussy’s been squeezin’ like she needed daddy here.”

That was true. Your heels dug deeper in his ass, and you felt something tender swell up inside, almost painfully.

Joel was moving your whole frame with the weight of his thrusts—your body bouncing beneath him, the bed creaking under the force, your old childhood room being filled with the sounds of your blooming pleasure and his. Your cunt stretched even more; it begged to be fucked deeper. Though your mouth couldn’t form the words, it seemed Joel was more than able to make out the rest.

He brought his thumb to your clit. He rubbed it, then caught your lips in a hot, steady kiss when a whimper from yours was just about to threaten to tremble out.

“Atta girl,” he grunted against your mouth, “That’s it.”

His hips worked faster. His thumb moved with even more precision, more persistence, as though begging your pleasure to come. You could feel the sweat bead on your skin and his; your bodies seemed to blend together. Your legs tightened around his sides, and while he fucked you and kissed you more fervidly then, you could feel your resolve start to slip. You broke from the kiss, panting.

“I can feel her, honey. Keep goin’,” Joel urged.

You weren’t sure if you could. It felt good.

It felt safe. You hadn’t felt that in a while.

Or maybe just since you’d been away.

You thought of the last, vulnerable state you’d been forced to endure—feeling hurt and betrayed after Joel had lied trying to keep you ‘safe’—and your body tensed. You held tighter, but you also couldn’t lose that feeling completely. You were so close, and there was still something else you couldn’t yet define, or explain.

“Cum for me, baby,” Joel kissed the side of your mouth, knowing the feeling coursing through your body too well, “Take what you need. Just let her feel good. It’s all okay.”

All okay.

Your walls fluttered again; your moans grew breathy and faint as Joel’s cock wedged deeper and deeper and his kisses grew softer along your face. It was evident you were there—you knew you were there—but then, the way you felt was like no place you’d ever experienced before.

You wanted to tell him something.

You met Joel’s gaze, and you almost did. Then he withdrew and fucked back in, and all words were lost.

The headboard thumped against the wall; you didn’t hear it. Joel’s one free hand was cradling your cheek, and his face drew closer, and right when you sensed the man was about to drop another kiss, you felt release, at last.

A snap.

A dizzying blow.

Your climax struck with all the force of a seismic wave, and, at the same time, you could feel Joel groaning, pulsing, spurting thick ropes of cum into rubber while his gaze stayed locked on yours and your body came apart. The look from him was sickeningly soft, even at his peak.

Intimate, again.

You couldn’t help it.

With your legs trembling, cunt spasming, and eyes still plastered to Joel’s, you felt that something resurface. This time, you didn’t have a hope of keeping it inside.

“I— I— I love you, Joel. I love you,” you stuttered out.

Your voice was tight. Your eyes burned with tears you hadn’t even sensed might threaten to appear with it.

You broke down and felt the sudden urge to sob.

And, just as quickly as you did, you shoved him off.

Regret flooded your chest. You shouldn’t have said that.

Joel was slow to move, no matter how much you tried getting him away. He was still in your bed, crowding your space—and worse yet, he was staring at you, eyes wide.

“Baby—”

“Don’t.” Your gaze was still wider. Wild. And remorseful, “I didn’t— I’m sorry, I just— I didn’t mean to say that.”

Joel had pulled out, but he was still between your legs. You slid backward in the bed, cheeks flaming with heat.

He followed.

He reached out.

“Please don’t,” you begged, shaking your head before his touch could find you. Your pulse thundered in your skull.

The sound almost drowned all other noises out.

At the next, you wished it would deafen you completely.

“I love you, too, baby,” Joel said.

No sooner had his palms come to rest on your face when you were shoving them away. Standing up from the bed.

“You don’t mean that. I didn’t mean it. Just— just stop.”

“I—”

“Need to go.”

You hardly realized it, but you were pointing to the door.

Joel was just getting the condom off, about to stand up from where he was, when a new sound startled you both.

The garage door was closing. Tommy shouted your name saying he needed help bringing something in, and for a second, you both froze. It was happening all over again.

You knew you couldn’t risk getting caught another time. Not with your father in the house, unconscious or not. Silently, you thanked your lucky stars for the opportunity afforded by this moment—getting Joel out—and bent to grab his clothes off the floor and throw them, one by one. He dressed, albeit reluctantly. He opened his mouth to speak again, but you were busy racing to throw on your own clothes, thinking of ways to get him out unnoticed. You heard the door to the garage slam shut downstairs.

“He’s gonna be back any minute. You need to go, Joel.”

“Come with me. We have to talk—”

“I have nothing else to say.”

“But you—”

“I lied. And so did you. Just like before,” you gritted out, “You can spare my feelings—I didn’t fucking mean it.”

He felt bad, that was all. You could see it in his eyes.

The pity, the self-loathing, the guilt; it was all there.

The sight made your stomach turn, and though your legs weren’t steady or sure underneath you in the slightest, you knew you had to go. If Joel didn’t intend on making things easier, you would have to leave first. You felt him reach for you, saw the plea in his eyes and knew how wrong this really was—that you had both fucked up—and couldn’t stay there. Again, you wrenched yourself away.

You didn’t give him the chance to protest. You heard words, dimly, but barely had the sense or self-possession to process one syllable of it, so you left. You bounded down steps, pulse hammering even louder than before, and you didn’t think to turn around or let Joel follow or even remotely allow yourself to stop feeling embarrassed

Leaving was for the best anyway.

If Joel had lied once, he’d lie again.

Downstairs, you cleaned. You folded laundry.

Joel had snuck out a while ago, having slipped from your room, down to the kitchen, and out the back door while Tommy was busy retrieving beer out of the garage. You’d gone down there to distract the younger Miller brother while Joel packed his shit up and left. Like he was meant to do. Luckily, Joel’s departure was quiet, and Tommy was all too happy to have some help toting cases of Budweiser inside. Your dad and Tess were still fast asleep

And now, nearly half an hour later, you had only to sweep the hardwood floor, fold your clothes, and busy yourself as best you could—or else grit your teeth so hard you could’ve broken your jaw. You were so fucking dumb.

“Almost done?” Tommy poked his head inside the room.

You’d told Joel you hated him last month. One measly fuck and you’re spewing, ‘I love you’? What the fuck?

“Just about,” you replied, dropping an old shirt of your dad’s into the nearest, neatest pile, “You heading out?”

Tommy jingled his car keys in his hand and hummed to say that he was. He had a happy, Alabama-just-beat-the-shit-out-of-Tennessee smile on his face as he stood there

“Yeah, I’m going back to Mando’s now to celebrate and watch another game. Was wondering if you wanted to come along,” he said, leaning against the door frame.

“I would, I’ve just got so much shit to do around here—” Gesturing indistinctly to the mountains of clothing stacked high all about the laundry room, “—cleaning.”

Beating yourself over the head, mentally, for ever telling his older brother that you liked him in the first place. Wishing you could crawl in a hole and wallow alone.

“Aww, that can wait. You’re here the whole week—”

“I know. But I gotta keep an eye on my old man, too.”

You rubbed at your face and pretended to get re-invested in a pair of socks with two gaping holes. Your father wouldn’t discard old, ratty clothes to save his life.

Then Tommy was at your side. Pressing against the washing machine and watching you work. Smirking.

“By ‘your old man’ do you mean your dad…or Joel?”

For the second time that day, you almost choked. You tried not to let it show but were sure you failed miserably.

“I— I— what?” you huffed, all terse, feigned incredulity.

“Don’t play stupid. Only suits my dumbass brother,” Tommy returned coolly, turning to face you head-on, “You sound just like him whenever I ask about you.”

“Whatever he’s said—” you started again.

“I heard his truck hightailing it out of here while you came down to distract me. Heard his footsteps, too.”

While your cheeks warmed, Tommy’s smile only grew.

“Aaaaand the headboard was bangin’ pretty loud—”

“Alright!” You threw your hands up, “Fine. OK. Enough.”

Your surrender was fast, far too grossed out to fight it.

You closed your eyes and wanted to die. From next to you, you could hear Tommy’s amusement morph into laughter. It didn’t take much to wring the truth out of you, and for a man who knew you as well as he did, there was really no telling where this would end. Once Tommy Miller called bullshit, there was rarely ever room to argue.

The last time that had happened, he’d sent you and Joel packing to abstinence camp and had never looked back.

Why he was finding humor in this now was beyond you.

You dropped the socks you were holding. You shot him a look as if to ask him just that, and the man shrugged.

“I know y’all skipped out on camp. Could’ve guessed there was some sort of fight between you two after that, because I’ve never seen Joel so goddamn grumpy for—”

“Yeah, well,” you cut in, not wanting to hear the rest, “That’s over now. Seriously. Today was just a fluke.”

Before he could even try to voice his disbelief, you added:

“Just don’t tell my dad about this. Please.”

By the look in his eyes, you could tell that was probably the furthest thing from his mind, but you asked it all the same. Tommy scoffed, and then he shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest like he couldn’t believe a word you were saying now. Like a smug big brother who didn’t know how else to say that you made a terrible liar.

Because that was what he’d been to you before you ever got with Joel in the first place: a good, no-bullshit friend. The recognition of this made you feel even worse inside.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said at length, much to your surprise.

His arms constricted even tighter against his chest and his eyes scanned yours thoughtfully before continuing.

“I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in y’all’s business. What you and Joel do is up to you—I just hated the thought of things, uh…going south. Making it weird between you.”

“Like now,” you said quietly.

A beat.

Tommy scratched his neck.

“Yeah, a little like that,” he replied, breathing out a laugh, “But that’s alright. Joel’s my brother, and I love him, but the man can’t navigate a relationship to save his life. Much less with a girl your age. So just…keep that in mind. I don’t wanna see either of you getting hurt.”

In other words: don’t be stupid and get attached.

‘You’re right,’ was all you knew to say. All you felt capable of telling him now, after what had come to pass that day.

Frankly, you didn’t need to speak another word to get the gist of what he meant, and like he’d said, it wasn’t on him to dictate how you handled things with Joel. The message was clear enough, and the truth was all there.

You couldn’t make this work.

Joel wouldn’t make this work with a girl as young as you.

He’d only said what he said today out of habit—a knee-jerk reaction. He didn’t know what the fuck else to say when his best friend’s kid he’d been banging spilled out ‘I love you.’ And you didn’t blame him for it. But you also couldn’t expect him to be something he wasn’t when all this was ever supposed to be was a casual fuck here and there. You’d been confused and needing to feel safe. He had wanted access to something he shouldn’t have, and now that the thrill of that was wearing off, he felt trapped and cornered into saying what he had, for your sake. The best thing for the two of you now was a clean break, before any more feelings got muddled and misspoken and brought to anything worse than they already were.

It would suck for a while. You knew it would. The next second had you leaning in unconsciously, watching Tommy uncross his arms and pull you in for a hug.

This would really suck.

You buried your face in his chest.

There wasn’t much to say; still, Tommy said it best:

“Whatever happens, you’ll be fine. I know you will.”

[joy-laufeyson]

Bakugo Katsuki fic recommendations

(Reader inserts) Recommendations of my favorite headcanons/imagines/fics/scenarios (I don’t own any)

・・・・・・

@ a11eya's masterlist @ adoringmha's masterlist @ andypantsx's masterlist @ angelshimaa's masterlist @ bkgml's masterlist @ cinnamonreccs' masterlist @ moominsuki's masterlist

・・・・・・

fluff / fever talk

sfw / the jealousy type

sfw / lucid dreaming

fluff / freckles

sfw / number neighbor (smau, masterlist)

sfw / “shut up and heal me”

fluff / apologizing

fluff / be my (fake) girlfriend

angst fluff / mean it

sfw fluff / truth or dare

fluff / falling in love with you

fluff / he hasn’t told his friends about you

angst fluff / petting his hair

fluff/ you fell asleep on him

fluff / helping him with his tie

nsfw ish / lends you a shirt

angst fluff / seeing you cry

angst fluff / he wakes up

fluff / childhood sweethearts

fluff / accidentally sleeping together

time-skip (aged up)

sfw / drunk-dazed

fluff / as the sun goes down

fluff / permanent ink

angst fluff / kiss me!

fluff / runaway party

fluff nsfw / birthday

fluff / valentines day (part 1, part 2)

fluff / ...but I don't like a gold rush

angst fluff / “do you think i’m a good person?”

fluff / Hero Awards

sfw / going to bed upset

fluff / most beautiful woman

fluff / late night confessions

fluff / anyone would be silly not to love you

angst fluff / tears

fluff / interviews (masterlist)

fluff / skincare

fluff / he only likes real kisses

fluff / hot cocoa

fluff / scars

fluff / 4:29

fluff / secret santa

angst fluff / you remind him that he is a person

fluff / baby

fluff / "go back to sleep"

fluff / a lot better now

fluff / can’t sleep until you’re home

fluff / the stages of me and you

sfw / you get dumped twenty seconds before meeting your boss

angst fluff / emotionally constipated

fluff/ he doesn't want to go

fluff / eating your leftovers

sfw / drunk

angst fluff / when you have a bad day

nsfw ish / victoria secret set

nsfw ish / nails

angst fluff / charred dreams

fluff / au beauty mark

angst fluff / stay

fluff / physically unable to find you unattractive

sfw / "that's my wife"

sfw / it's you

sfw / cologne

sfw / don't let your guard down

fluff / denying him a kiss

fluff / worried about you

fluff / florist

angst fluff / clumsy love

fluff / kiss it all off

fluff / better than a blanket

fluff / coming home

fluff / scars

fluff / vibrations of your body

fluff / tender moments

fluff / i just got a crush

sfw / a softie for sentimentality

・・・・・・

Updated:23-December-2024

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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."

[kysslasher]

KINKTOBER DAY 1:: scream— gojo satoru

WARNING:: ghostface!Gojo x fem!reader, choking, blowjob, facial, unprotected sex, taking pictures.

SUMMARY:: Halloween night alone can be scary, but when a phone call comes in on your land line, you can feel the chills in your bones when a raspy voice on the other line meets your ears.

When your parents tasked you to stay home and watch the house you were fine with that, deciding that a Friday the 13th marathon would be a good way to settle. Although it might sound miserable staying home on Halloween but you just couldn't muster up the energy to get sloshed at a random house party dressed up in a costume you had bought at party city.

A fresh bowl of popcorn sits in your lap the smell of butter wafts through the air as the warmth of the bowl against your bare legs, your eyes latch onto the screen as the opening scene starts your brought out of your daze as the old landline your dad refuses to get taken out rings on the wall. The bright cherry red phone illuminating under the TV's glare.

Putting the bowl down on the cushion beside you, you walk over to the phone holding the cold plastic to your hear. "Hello?" your voice the first to speak as your finger absentmindedly began to twirl around the long curly cord on the end of the phone. "Hello?" The voice eerily crackles through the other side. "Who is this?" You ask politely, the off putting tone the voice on the other end makes your face slightly scrunch.

"I think I called the wrong number" he says making you perk up a bit. "oh! was there someone you were looking for that might live here?" you respond as you walk over to your couch grabbing the remote pausing it. "no" he says flatly making you smile.

“well have a good night” you slightly pull the phone away from your ear hanging up the phone before returning to your movie, the phone rings again before you can even unpause it. Picking it up again “hello?” You say picking at nail polish that seemed to have gotten on your skin around your nail. “I must’ve dialed the wrong number” the man on the other line says making your face scrunch with a slight smile.

“So why’d you redial and call again?” You ask, you’ve never had anyone call you twice by mistake. “To apologize” he says his voice becoming softer yet not losing the edge it has. “Your forgiven bye now” you barely pull the phone away before he demands attention once more “what?” You ask your voice filled with amusement; maybe it’s one of those frat pledges calling around, yet you entertain him anyways.

“I wanna talk to you for a second” he replied making you scoff a bit. “They have hotlines for that, see ya” you hang up the phone and start up the movie once more, you get up from the couch walking to the kitchen and opening the large cabinet deciding to make a bowl of popcorn you heat up the bag as you hear the slight sizzle and popping, your phone rings again before once more making you scoff again.

Picking up the phone again “why don’t you want to talk to me?” He asks making you shake your head “who is this?” You ask as you walk around the kitchen island back to the popcorn sizzling away in the microwave. “You tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine” he says his voice dripping with amusement as if it were some kind of game. “I don’t think so” you say as you watch the bag grow bigger and the muffled sound of popping fights your attention.

“What’s that noise?” He says making you laugh a bit “it’s popcorn” you say excitedly, your house is empty and you know that you’re supposed to be looking out for any of your sisters coming back drunk and helping them to bed but it wasn’t that late yet. “You’re making popcorn? I only make popcorn when I’m watching movies” he says you grin “well I was just starting movie, but I want to eat something while I watch it” you say opening the microwave and shaking the bag.

“Oh really? What?” He sounded more excited at the mention of a movie “oh just a scary movie” you say absentmindedly as you move over to the stool at the island your hands reach to toy with the handles of the knife block. “You like scary movies?” He asks making you shake your head “yeah” you caved, you’d entertain him “what’s your favorite scary movie?” His voice coming out very ominous.

“Well I don’t know…” you trail off trying to think before he cute through your thoughts “you have to have a favorite, what comes to mind?” He asks making you smile “um…Halloween” you smile at your answer. “The one with the guy in the white mask, he goes around town stalking babysitters” you say as you pull one of the knife handles from the wooden block watching it glimmer under the kitchen light. “What’s yours?” You ask as you walk around your small kitchen “guess” he says amused by your answer making you hum as you think “nightmare on elm street?” You walk through the halls of your sorority.

“The one where the guy has knives for fingers?” He asks making you chuckle at his response “yeah Freddy Kruger” you respond as you walk past the back patio door locking it. “That movie was scary” he drawls out making you hum “the first one was but the rest sucked” you say as you continue your mindless trudging through the grand halls decorated in pictures of classes and sisters who stayed before.

“So..you got a boyfriend?” He asks and in return gets a small giggle out of you “why? You wanna ask me out on a date?” You ask as you make it back to the living room “maybe, do you have a boyfriend?” He says as you sit down on your couch rewinding the movie just a bit. “No.” You respond and realize this really was getting entertaining. “You never told me your name” he says as you turn down the tv a bit you watch from where you last watched. “Why do you want to know my name?” You ask as you keep your eyes on the screen seeing the little girl tucked in her bed as the killer stood above her.

“Because I wanna know who I’m looking at” he says sending a chill right through you, a beat of silence follows through before you shakily answered “what did you say?” You look at the windows and doors around you cautiously, almost jumping out of your skin at the sound of a dog near by barking “I want to know who I’m talking to” he says as if he repeated what he said before making your face scrunch. “That’s not what you said” you shake your head standing up from the couch heading to your back door with a clear view. “What do you think I said?” He asks yet you don’t answer looking out of the large glass door into your backyard “what?” He asks as your met with the emptiness of your pool and a small table with chairs.

“Hello?” He asks making you snap out of your frightened haze “look…I need to go” you say turning on the light to your backyard. “Wait- I thought we were gonna go out” he says with a faux hint of desperation in his tone. “No…I don’t think so” you pipe up locking the door content with the full clicking sound to solidify your safety. “Don’t hang up on me” he says more aggressive. You do anyways, you’ve never been the kind of girl to be frightened into doing something you don’t want to.

Stomping off back into the kitchen forgetting all about your popcorn that seems to have doubled in size for how long you’ve kept it in the microwave, you make a round the house making it to the next door before another chilling ring of your phone cuts through the silence of your dinning room. You pick up feeling more annoyed now “yes?” Your voice more loud “I told you not to hang up on me” his voice more ominous now. “What do you want?” You ask your voice filled with disapproval. “I just wanna talk to you” he says as if he’s teasing you.

“Well they have numbers for that” you almost hesitate to pull the phone away from your ear, this time you put your phone on speaker, pulling it away from your face shooting a text to one of your sisters asking if she’d be back soon, but no reply. “They do, but I just wanna hear your voice” he says his voice becoming more steady and less agitated. But once you finish locking all the doors and make it back to the living room the channel has changed to the news.

You watch in curiosity as the woman with grown hair and a blue pantsuit begins to speak, you turn up the volume for a moment. “Reporting live at local college jujutsu tech university where it seems another local serology sister has fallen to her death. Detectives say that her phone fell along with her and the last thing she had done was picked up a call from a random number before falling to her death, though there will be more updates from the lead detective tomorrow morning” the woman says making your heart fall to your ass you turn the TV off.

“you hear that?” He pipes up his voice had a vile hint of amusement in it “it was you?” Your voice shakes. “If you don’t want to end up like that poor girl your going to do something for me” he says “she didn’t have a chance like you but I’m feeling generous tonight” he says you can hear him shuffling around his voice becoming more husky. “What?” You ask you can feel the bile in your stomach ready to crawl up the back of your throat yet you fight it seeing as you want to survive.

“We’re gonna play a game of hot and cold” he says making you feel a sheer shock rock your body. “You’re inside” you say not questioning it for a second you know he is. “Well aren’t you smart” he says and you can tell he’s smiling on the other line somewhere in your house. You roll your eyes as you stand from the couch and head straight to the kitchen stopping the microwave before looking at the knife block to see the once filled block had none in them. “You’re cold. But you also didn’t think I would have an advantage did you?” He asks mocking you as you stare at the empty block. “Fuck you” you spat at him as you continue through the house and up to the next floor. “You’re getting warm” he says as if he’s excited making you shake your head as you slowly walk through the halls.

The many doors that lead to your sister’s room you head farther down the halls “warmer” he trails off making you perk up as you realize where he is. “I know where you’re at” you say sternly. Making him chuckle lowly “nice pink panties…I didn’t take you for the lace and bows kind of girl” his words cut through you like a knife. “You’re a perv” you say as you stomp towards your bedroom swiftly opening the door.

You’re met with an empty room making you feel sick, sweat gathered at the edge of your eyebrow as you look around. “Don’t be shy, it’s your bedroom after all” he says making you frown as you step inside, the pink carpet under your feet making you sigh of relief. “Take a look around, see if you can find me” his voice almost taunting you now. “I did what you asked- I figured out where you were why can’t you just leave?” You ask your voice coming out in a higher pitch, you know he’s in there and it worries you that you won’t make it out alive. “Come on pretty, you know I can’t let you off the hook that easy, now look.” He demands making you shut your eyes real tight before caving and doing what he says.

Walking towards your bed you bend down feeling your skirt ride up a big; lifting the sheets that drape over your frame you quickly look under it to be met with darkness, nothing. “Come on now, you gotta be smarter than that” he replied. You know for sure he’s watching now and the only place he could be hiding is one of the two closets in your shared bedroom. You move over to the closet pulling it open, and yet again…nothing. “Oh you are so hot, I think you know where to look next” he says as you turn around slowly, looking at your roommates side of the room her closet light flickering on making you gasp.

The shadow of a pair of shoes makes your heart race, you walk slowly, “warmer” he says he was teasing you so much it made you want to cry like a kid again. “Warmer” he’d say once more; and as you finally make it to the door the cold metal of the doorknob makes you shiver as you slowly twist it; the door swings open making you quickly fall back tripping over your own feet in fear. A burly tall figure walks out the closet.

You drag yourself away standing up you push yourself against your wall. The mask covering his face was ghostly, the black gaping eyes and mouth as if eternally screaming, your eyes widen as he walks towards you. Your hands shaking and your body is in shock as if refusing to move, you hated yourself for not running. “Red hot” the voice pipes muffled but matching the one of the man on your phone.

He presses against you, a shinning glimmer catches the corner of your eye making you look down seeing a knife that curved slightly at the tip; it presses to your naked leg making you gasp, looking at the masked man. Your arms press against the wall showing him that you don’t plan to touch him, your hands ball into fists your mouth hangs open slightly your breathing heavy, you shut eyes tightly tensing up against wall waiting the sharp dull pain of his knife to hit you but it never does; instead you feel a gloved hand touch your face making you jump as you open your eyes your eyebrows bunch together, his fingers brushed a few stray hair on your face away tucking them behind your ear.

Confusion flashes through your eyes before you brought out of your thought by his voice. “Let’s play another game hm?” He lifts the knife waving it threateningly making you press yourself against the wall harder as if you would suddenly be able to phase through out and escape. “It called Simon says, except you just do whatever I say” he says his voice was filled with delight, it was almost as if he was getting off to the sight of you frightened and wide eyes.

You nod not putting in trust into your voice knowing it would come out cracking and garbled. “Take off your shirt” he says pulling away slightly, the warmth of his body getting lost almost makes you upset. You push off the wall your face not hiding its disgust. “Oh come on pretty, I’ve been toying with you all night, tell me you don’t feel the sexual tension” he sounded overbearing, his mere presence overwhelmed you.

“I’ve already saw your panties sweetheart, no need to be shy” he laughs as the moonlight pours through the window a glimpse of his blue eyes shows through the black fabric covering his eyes, they twinkled different shades of blue, and glimmer of lust. Your arms reach the hem of your shirt slowly pulling it up over your head and tossing it on the bed. You hang your head in embarrassment, your arms cover your chest as your skin feels as if it’s on fire.

The gloved hand reaches for your chin gripping it tight within his grasp to make you look at him. You are the cutest little thing” he says matter of factly as he turns your head side to side “I just want to ruin your pretty face” he says deeply making your stomach churn “please don’t kill me” you whisper “I promise I’ll do what you want and I won’t complain I swear” your lip quivers. “Poor thing, I’m not going to kill you; you’re too pretty for that” he mumbled back as his thumb pressed against your bottom lip. “Get on your knees” he says his blue eyes clashing with yours making your stomach flip.

Slowly but surely you get on your knees, looking up at him as your eyelashes slightly block your view. “Show me how much you want to live” he says making you realize what he truly wants making a smirk grow on your lips. “For a killer you really are a perv” you say under your breath shaking your head, you pull the black robe up over his belt buckle before he holds it up for you, you remove his belt before unbuttoning and unzipping his pants.

Then you saw it. The bulge ticking out through his boxers you pull his boxers and pants down in one swoop he was big, and thick making your mouth almost water at the sight. Taking him in your palm you felt him twitch within your grasp. “Go on, show me” his condescending tone makes you look up at him with a glare “don’t rush me” you gripe before flattening your tongue against the underside of his cock you dragged up against the vein running up to the tip— he let out a rich moan that ended with a groan "shit". His head was thrown back as breathing becomes labored.

You let his tip fall past your lips you swirl your tongue around him as you slowly push yourself down farther until he reached the back of your throat making your eyes water. Tears fall past your waterline as you let your moans mix with his with the incessant sounds of gargling and wet sounds ring out. His free hand reaches the back of your head resting there as you pick up speed, spit drips down your chin, you look up at him with wet eyelashes.

“Fuck, that’s it pretty” he groans as his hand grips your hair tight keeping you still as he thrusts into your throat like your his own personal toy, you grip his thighs as you fight the urge to gag, he pulls out with a wet pop making you cough as your eyes turn red fighting more tears you gasp. “You can keep going right? I mean after all you want to show me how much you want to live” he says his hand leaving your head to jerk himself off; he rubs the tip against your plump lips before laughs.

“Your makeup is getting messed up baby, but it’s okay; after all I just wanna ruin you” his words made you feel lightheaded, the ache in your panties as they stick to you makes you shift. You nod your head humming pressing your head to his thigh “please let me make you cum” you whisper almost coming out as a moan. “Fuck” he groans you can’t see through the mouth of his mask but you can only assume he’s butting his lip from how disgruntled he sounds.

You press a kiss to the small mole on his hip before fisting around him perfectly, the wet sound of his cock makes you moan, gripping him tighter he thrusts into you “fuck- put it in your mouth” he whispered; and you do immediately taking him in your throat, you could, feeling the tip nudge the back of your throat while your nose was nestled tightly against his pubic bone. While your eyes were closed tight to focus on relaxing your gag reflex to not ruin the tight feeling for him.

He began to pull out slowly, just enough to keep his head inside before pushing back in. A groan escaped his throat at how good it felt “that’s it baby, there you go” he moaned more desperate as if he could cum at any moment. The feeling of you moaning around him makes him groan louder his hips continue to thrust into you.

His thighs quivered as his shaky as a moan as his hand presses against against the wall, his muffled moans make your thighs squish together. His forehead presses against the wall. The wet sounds falling past your lips as strings of saliva attach to his cock and down your chin, you couldn’t think of anything as his breathing turned into panting “you’re gonna make me cum” groaned it was on the borderline of a whimper, he pulls out swiftly jerking himself off again you watch with wide eyes opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue as the stringy white ropes of his cum splash your tongue and cheek making you squeal.

“Fuck” he huffs out as he throbs. “I’m not done yet” he chokes out as he watches you collect his cum on your finger with a smirk on your lips you suck it off with a wet pop, he bunches your hair up pulling you to your feet, “no I need you to take your clothes off and get on the bed” he demands pushing you towards the bed. You unclip your bra and strip down to nothing as you watch him do the same. Bending over the bed you can feel a breeze wash over you.

The feeling of his big rough palms on your hips he uses his knee to spread your legs wider. You feel his thumb press against your pussy swirling around your wetness making your thighs quiver in response to the feeling, you can hear him laughing through his mask, though you say nothing as he presses your upper back deeper into an arch your face presses into the blanket that you grip in your fist. “Gonna make you cum on my cock alright pretty” his voice sounded so lustful your head was spinning as you moaned in response.

The feeling of him pressing into you made you hold back a scream that was desperate to rip through your throat at how deep he was and how full you felt. His pace rough and slow, the sound of your bed frame clashing against the wall as the sharp sound of skin on skin fills the room, his rough groans turns you on too much not to moan in response.

His hips change the angle hitting a spot that makes you reach back for his wrist only for him to grab your arm and pressing it to your lower back he picks up pace throwing his knife completely discarding it he reaches over your hand intertwining his hand with yours you press your face to the sheets to hide your moans but he doesn’t let that slide at all. Pulling out he pulls your back to his chest “don’t hide from me pretty, go ahead and ride me, I wanna see you on top of me” he says his breath is heavy.

“fuck- yes” you moaned looking over your shoulder you press a kiss to the mask regardless of if he could kiss you or not; you didn’t care all you wanted was for him to fuck you. He pulls away sitting on the bed, now getting the view you missed his pale skin warm to the touch, the happy trail of white hair below his abs making you bite your lip eyeing him as if you were just presented a feast you straddle him, trying to find the same angle his hips were at you sink down on him making the both of you moan, you grind your hips against him as you begin to set the pace your face presses into the crook of his neck as you bounce on his cock at an unmatched pace.

His hands hold the back of your thighs giving you leverage “god you’re so tight” he whispers into your ear as you rake your fingers against the skin of his back, your moans become louder. “Harder” he demands as his hand sharply smacks you on the ass making you cry out at the stinging feeling you go harder, pulling back from his neck your eyes roll back as you press your forehead to the mask “you’re gonna make me cum” you whimper needing something to push you over the edge.

His hips meet yours matching your pace his hand falls between your thighs his thumb presses against your clit as you roll your hips into him, the white creamy strings that stick to both of your thighs and a ring around the base of his cock makes you dizzy, the tight feeling in your stomach becoming tighter your moans bounce off the walls as his arms wrap around your waist tightly he thrusts are harsh bouncing you in his lap; your head falls back as the euphoric feeling washes over you he slams into you for a final time as warmth cascades over you the feeling of him cumming inside you his thrusts come to a stop.

You both sit in silence coming down from your high your body’s covered in a sleek sheen of sweat you peel yourself back from him you pull his mask off tossing it to the side before coloring your lips with his. Your tongues clashing, sucking and licking at each other needy enough to keep going until your lungs is begging for air you pull back nipping at his lips you smile.

“You asshole, I’m on sister duty tonight” you shove his shoulder and satoru just grins “you deserve to have fun too tonight” he shrugs as he chases your lips “if I get in trouble because of this I promise you I will get even” you replied pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Now get out before someone comes back and catches us” you mumbled as he slowly pulled out.

“Oh please, it’s Halloween night they won’t be back until 4AM” he replies shaking his head.

[velvetkisscs]

✩°𓏲⋆🍓#fanfic_favs. ⋆⸜ 📌✮˚

reg color = sfw, red = nsfw MDNI [hopefully didn't miss any]

[still updating !! ikkkk there's a lot of sunghoon ffs...]

✿ (희승) heeseung !!

stan twitter @okwonyo

✿ (제이) jay !!

[more to be added soon]

✿ (제이크) jake !!

off and on @rikigai

✿ (성훈) sunghoon !!

cold hearts (completed) @onlyjaeyun

twisted ties (ongoing) @021894s i'll love you forever @zreamy cherry pits @asahicore

spf 23 @zreamy

say my name @yeonzzzn under the web @acciojaeyun watching me, watching you @ikeuhoonverse hoodie @jlheon so it's gonna be forever @diorsyun look good for you @okwonyo bros before hoes (ongoing) @yangkitties wrong number @pprodsuga f1 racer @slutofpsh marriage discount @heeracha door dash @enluv night-shift (pt.1) day- shift (pt. 2) @simpjaes ex bf texts @jlheon boyfriend sunghoon texts @dioll but you stuck around @leaderwonim boyfriend texts @enhastolemyheart

paint me like one of your pretty girls @enwifen

broken love (pt. 1) try again (pt. 2) @pshcomforts

spring snow @pshcomforts

sunghoon's hands thoughts @heelust the hot dad next door (to be published) @wonryllis

✿ (선우) sunoo !!

[more to be added soon]

✿ (정원) jungwon !!

first date @jlheon boyfriend texts @021894s love grows where jungwon goes @soobnny baked with love @demusewriter language of flowers @soobnny

love news @hanniluvi

nice to meet you, boyfriend @delcakoo

start now (pt. 1) always be here (pt. 2) @loveywon

super shy @en-dazed

✿ (니키) ni-ki !!

[more to be added soon]

✿ OT7

to be loved by them @en-gelic

places they love to kiss @atrirose

i'll be your boyfriend @chaconnenha

sharing is caring (hyung line) (maknae line) @imaluckygirl

drunk texts @boydepartment

kiss kiss @rikstar

anyeonghaseyo? @ikeuluvr

another man paying for your nails (hyung line) @joysbaereal

enhypen as a bridgerton story (to be published) @candysunoo

[pretend-theres-a-name-here]

Hide Your Heart pt.4

Part four of the Steve Harrington has bad parents au. I would’ve posted this last night but I past out right after finishing the chapter in an daze of insomnia

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Steve had been up for hours, waiting for his parents to come back. Maybe he was right and they were never coming back. What if they had just packed up and taken off without a goodbye? It wouldn’t be the first time they’d done that, making excuses about flight times and scheduling errors. 

He decided to clean the kitchen, like he always did when he was stressed. It was three in the morning, he was standing on top of the counter to dust the overly complicated light fixture in the kitchen, when the front door banged open. He heard a shrill cackle and the sound of furniture being jostled around. They were drunk, of course they were fucking drunk. He was just about to hop down off the counter when his mother stumbled into the kitchen.

“Wha-h-what’re you doin’ on the cowter, Steven?” She snorted, falling against the table and slouching her head down to lay on it.

“Nothing, mother. You should get to bed.” He got down, taking her arm to guide her up the stairs. His father was passed out on the couch, he would have to keep his call with Eddie quiet.

“Oh, Stevie, you would’ve loved the dessert!”

 Steve’s stomach dropped, he tried to pay attention to her rambling but he couldn’t listen to her gush about the chocolate cake because his mother hadn’t called him Stevie since the first trip they took. He was 8 years old, she had wrapped him in her arms and whispered how much she would miss him and how it would be over before he knew it into his hair. She had held his hand until she had to get in the car and the nanny had to pull him back. She was losing consciousness, words slurring as she drifted and her head hit the pillow with a snore.

Steve sat a cup of water on her bedside, alongside tylenol for when she woke up, he pressed his lips to her forehead on his way out, “Goodnight, mother.” He whispered before closing the door.

He dragged a kitchen chair over to where the phone hung on the wall, slumping into it as he put in Eddie’s number. It wasn’t until he was listening to the faint click on the receiving end that he remembered his father snoring on the couch. It was too late to hang up, so he resigned himself to whispering and praying that his father didn’t wake up in a drunken stupor.

“Mh’ello?” Eddie’s voice mumbled sleepily.

Steve breathed out, a sigh of guilt, “Hi, I can call later if—”

“Stevie,” Eddie’s voice filled with warmth and Steve bit back a grin, there were no bittersweet memories that plagued his mind when Eddie said the name, “always up to talk to you, sweetheart.”

“Are you sure?” He whispered, already preparing to make himself hang up.

“I promise.” Eddie said it so sincerely, sounding genuinely happy that he called, who was Steve to argue?

“Ok,” It was so quiet, barely a word, Steve wasn’t sure if he spoke it or if it was his breath that formed the word of its own accord.

“Is there a reason we’re whispering?” Eddie asked, playing along anyway. Steve could hear the playful smirk in his voice. What he wouldn’t give to see it in person.

“My father’s asleep on the couch.” Steve told him.

Eddie hummed, “Trouble in paradise?”

“Try too drunk to make it through the front door.”

“Yeesh,” Eddie mumbled, “you gonna be okay over there?”

“I’ll be fine, s’long as he doesn’t wake up.”

He hears Eddie’s big, dramatic gasp, “Risking it for little ole me, Harrington?” And it sounds joking but Steve knows, he knows that Eddie knows it’s not a joke.

“The things I do for you,” he shoots back anyway, because he’s delusional. Because maybe he wishes it could be just a joke. Because he’ll take the humor when he can.

Eddie’s tone changes then, more concerned, “It’s almost one am, Stevie, you planning on sleeping tonight?”

“You know I can’t.” He sighs.

“You should at least try. It’ll be easier to get through the week if you’re not falling asleep at the wheel.”

“I don’t even know if they’re going to be here for a week.” He paused, falling quiet, “Is it messed up that I don’t want them to stay?”

He heard Eddie sigh, “I can’t pretend to know what that’s like but you’re allowed to feel however you want about them. You’re the one who has to live with this, that means you decide how you feel about them.”

“What if he’s right, though?” Steve mumbled. What if everything my father says about me is true and I’m a no good freeloader? 

“He’s not right about you.” Eddie told him, understanding immediately, speaking again when Steve started to protest, “He’s not right about you, Steve. I know you and I know you don’t deserve this. So you know what, live in his house and spend his money and do whatever the hell you want because if he can’t pretend to care about you then fuck him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“You’re crazy, you know?” Steve said because he wasn’t going to start tearing up again.

“So I’ve been told. You don’t get accused of devil worship and witchcraft for nothing, my love.”

“Can you witchcraft my routine back?” Steve asked around a yawn.

“Oh yeah, all you gotta do is go to sleep.”

Steve groaned, “No. I miss you.”

“See me in your dreams, sweetheart.”

 Steve rolled his eyes because he could feel the exaggerated wink in Eddie’s voice, “That was terrible. Like, astoundingly awful.”

“I’d say I miss you too but I’m not sure I miss the attitude. Your inner mean girl is surfacing, Stevie.”

“You’re horrible, I’m just trying to go to sleep and my own boyfriend is bullying me.” He muttered with no real conviction.

Eddie gasped, “I knew you were tired!”

“Shhhh, let me sleep.” He didn’t hang up though, just settled into the kitchen chair and propped himself up against the wall next to the phone.

“It’s almost like that’s what I was trying to do, weird.” The sound of blankets rustling drifted from the other end of the line and Steve guessed Eddie was getting back in bed.

“Can you—” Steve hesitated, “Will you keep talking? Just until I can sleep?” 

He hadn’t asked anyone this in a long time, not since his father had lectured him on independence and being a man. Maybe Eddie would finally see him as the loser he was, too much of a baby to handle one night alone.

 But Eddie just hummed, “Nerdy snoozefest or something interesting?”

I love him. Steve would tell him later but now wasn’t the time, “Whatever you want.”

“Anything? Even the newest campaign I’m helping Dustin plan?”

Steve pushed back a sigh and agreed, pulling his legs up onto the chair as Eddie started his ramble with a gleeful ‘You’ve been warned’.

He talked and talked about creatures and myths. He went on a whole tangent about how Dustin was dead set on adding some thing that sounded like some weird dessert Steve’s great aunt Marge used to bring to Christmas dinner, a gelatinous cube he called it. Steve couldn’t keep up if he tried, and he had tried but even though he surrounded himself with a whole gaggle of nerds their mile-a-minute words were still lost on him. So instead he closed his eyes and let Eddie’s voice wash over him until he felt himself nodding off.

When Steve woke up again he was still in the chair—thank God he’d grabbed one with arms or he would have been on the floor. The first thing he registered was the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window, so it was still nighttime. The second thing he noticed was the phone still wedged between his shoulder and ear, soft breathing so close he could almost feel it puffing through the speaker. He sat up, grabbing the phone and popping his neck, only to wince at the sharp pain that shot through his spine. The wooden back of the chair dug into his own back.

“Eds?” He whispered, voice strained.

“Mh-wha?” Eddie’s disoriented mumbling would never not bring a smile to Steve’s face.

“You fell asleep, we both did.”

“Oh. What time is it?”

Steve craned his neck to check the clock, “Two a.m.” 

Eddie yawned and then groaned, “Way too early to be awake.”

Steve agreed, “I’m going to hang up and go to bed, okay? Remind me to never sleep upright again.” 

“Okay. Night, babe.” Eddie whispered, “I love you.” He added, like it was the easiest thing to say in the world.

Steve realized it was when he said it back, feeling a soft smile spread across his face, “I love you too.”

He was about to hang up, hand already reaching for the wall, when a shadow stumbled into the room. 

“Father—” He stood lightning fast, dropping the phone and feeling the cord stretch before coiling back together.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Fun fact: I Struggled writing their call because I had No Ideas. You can probably tell but I Can Not be bothered to rewrite it, it’s mostly filler anyway

Part 5

[ttalgi]

aperture [ ◉¯] ✧˖°

scaramouche x f!reader smau

3 - WHERE'S [NAME]?!

cw: cursing, the word piss, drunk people, i won't lie im new to this and don't rlly know when somethings cw tag worthy

smau + 0.3k written

as much as scaramouche hates himself for agreeing to this whole situation in the first place, he feels that he needs to see the whole thing through in order to keep his pride. so even when he starts to hear drunk rambling outside the room he feels like rapunzel in, he ignores it, trying to keep the last of his sanity intact.

until his curiosity got the best of him.

"why the fuck does this big ass place, mansion, house thing have to be so huge. i feel like im going to piss myself any second now." *BANG* "ow fuck...how the hell did that door get there."

his own lips start to upturn into a smirk, 'how amusing. swearing like a sailor.' 

scara ponders momentarily before getting up from the sofa to open the door. he grabs a face mask on the way there, and mumbles under his breath before unlocking the door, “better not regret this.”

scaramouche swings the door outwards, only to be met with another *THUD* halfway.

"ᵒʷ"

he steps through the opening to find someone crouching and holding their hands to their forehead. though this sight makes them look sad and pathetic, he doesn’t find a need in himself to coddle them.

after a couple of seconds of him staring and them still whining, he decides to speak up. 

“hey you.”

scara sees them snap out of their apparent daze and look up towards the voice, leading their sight to his face. the longer they keep staring, the more scaramouche starts to worry that he’s been recognized and tha- “oh.”

‘oh? shit. they know who i am, don’t they-’

“oh,” they said as if they remembered something. “hey, is there a bathroom in your room? i really have to take a piss right now.”

‘of course they don’t recognize me, they’re drunk out of their goddam mind.’ scaramouche lets out an exasperated sigh before leading them inside the room.

“yeah, i do. hurry up and get in the bathroom before you piss outside the door like a fucking dog.”

previous [ ◉¯] masterlist [ ◉¯] next

synopsis: inazuma entertainment's number 1 model seemingly dissappears after a family scandal and isn't really seen for months...until a tweet picturing him goes viral

otherwise known as how [name] tries to make amends with scara for putting him in the spotlight again

note: DD = designated driver, also, is there a specific time of day that u guys prefer uploads? like morning vs afternoon vs night

taglist (open!): @k1an4a @veekoko @raewrz @evsolostheuniverse @feiherp @meigalaxy @bananasquash @barbatosfavouritenun @featuredtofu @tartagliascumdumpp @freshlaundry @beriiov @itzblazekun @lyzisbitchingagain @nnasv @vanishes-into-gold @seternic @cieluna

[starglitterz]

THE STARGLITTERZ GALA !

— a milestone event !

one fine day, you receive an embossed letter in the mail. on the envelope, your name is written in grand gilded letters, swooping cursive gleaming gold against the parchment. upon breaking open the teal wax seal, the contents slip out: it's an invitation?!

☆ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 : you are hereby invited to ‘ THE STARGLITTERZ GALA ’ , a monumental masquerade designed for our attendees to find love. for one night and one night only, you shall dance and make merry alongside others on our exclusive guestlist. we pride ourselves on making some of the most historic matches at our soirée, and we eagerly await more blossoming romance this year. do rsvp for a night to remember under the glittering stars – we hope to see you there ♡ 

☆ 𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 : this is a request event to celebrate reaching 5k followers! i will be taking 15 requests in total, one for each of the prompts below on a first-come first-serve basis. do send in the number of the prompt you want + the character, as well as two back-up prompts in case the first one is already claimed. you can also send in any extra details that you wish to be added into the fic, though their inclusion is up to my discretion. ( my inbox can be found here. ) requests will be closed once all the prompts are taken. all the prompts will be set within the fictional event of the starglitterz gala. the pronouns in the prompts below are interchangeable ( as in it could be either the reader or the character in either position ). this event is strictly sfw but may have suggestive content. mutual requests will be prioritised. i will fulfill the requests at my own pace. do feel free to send in an ask if you’re confused about anything. hope you have fun at our soirée ♡

☆ 𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐒 : tis i, lady quill herself ! HAHAHA okay naur i can’t take myself seriously TT but anyways yes!! thank you all so much for 5k, i say this every time but this blog quite literally would be nowhere without my followers. i appreciate you all sm, thank you for being with me as i developed my writing and hopefully also grew a lot as a person :’) i hope you enjoy this event, i had a lot of fun putting it together :]

☆ 𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘

#1 — meet me at midnight : your partner has to find you before the clock ticks twelve in order to kiss you at the stroke of midnight. -> WRIOTHESLEY

#2 — walk but in a garden : strolling through the lush gardens of the mansion, you bump into another attendee who also stepped out for some fresh air. -> NEUVILLETTE

#3 — drunk-dazed : someone’s had a little bit too much to drink and is a lot clingier than they were before. -> CHILDE

#4 — from the start : even with the mask amidst the sea of faces, they’d recognise you anywhere. -> NEUVILLETTE

#5 — slow dancing in the dark : though you may not be the most talented dancer, all eyes are on the two of you as you waltz through the ballroom. -> WRIOTHESLEY

#6 — one kiss : stolen kisses in the grand corridors of the mansion, hidden away from prying eyes. -> LYNEY

#7 — moonlight sunrise : the sky is beautiful tonight, but in their eyes you’ll always be prettier. -> GA MING

#8 — greedy : they want one too many dances with you, and only you, refusing to dance with anyone else. -> KAVEH

#9 — let’s skip to the wedding : love at first sight ends up with a ring on your finger by the end of the night and the promise of your dream wedding to come. -> AYATO

#10 — daydreaming : despite being in an arranged marriage, the two of you have attended this event together in the hopes that it will bring you closer. -> DILUC

#11 — something about you : you’re not really hoping for much at this dinner, but after flirting with almost everyone, it seems like you’ve caught this one person’s eye… -> XIAO

#12 — could this be love? : you’ve never had a relationship before, but you’re pretty sure the butterflies in your stomach as they whirl you across the dance floor is exactly what love is meant to be. -> GA MING

#13 — partners in crime : you and your ‘partner’ decide to crash the ball for no reason, but end up getting swept away by the festivities. -> HEIZOU

#14 — save your tears : when you bump into your ex at the gala, it spells trouble [ at least until a new partner steps in to save the day. ] -> SCARAMOUCHE

#15 — heaven sent : the soiree seems to be a blessing in disguise (not!), for you were able to bump into your greatest enemy and even share a dance. -> SCARAMOUCHE

© starglitterz 2024. do not repost or modify in any way.

[ot7stan4life]

“Drunk-Dazed”

Yoohyeon (Dreamcatcher) x Female Reader

(1 part - completed ✅)

Word Count: 8265

Summary: Being a member in the debut lineup for HFE/Dreamcatcher Company’s new girl group is stressful for a number of reasons, but your increasingly complicated feelings for a certain tall brunette from your senior group rapidly becomes the main one when you’re shoved into a dark room to find her unbuttoning her shirt…

Warnings: angst, cursing, alcohol use, mild sexual content

This story features appearances of idols: Yujin (IVE), Yeji (Itzy), Heejin (ARTMS), & Yves/Sooyoung (soloist - formerly LOONA)

"C'mon, unnie," a voice whined, breaking my focus on the lyrics in front of me. "Give it a rest. You've been writing all day." From my peripheral I could see a pout on the brunette's face.

"I have not been writing all day," I countered, putting my pen back over my notebook page in the hopes that a line would magically come out of it. I had admittedly been working for a few hours and managed to write an entire song already. But this one still felt like it was missing something. That last finishing touch. And I couldn't leave until I figured it out. I didn't like splitting my writing sessions up; my songs have to be completed in one sitting, because I feared I'd be in a different mindset when I picked it up again and wouldn't be able to do it justice.

"Right, like eight hours isn't 'all day,'" the younger member mocked and I could practically hear her eye roll from her spot in the doorway. Her words caused me to let go of my pen and turn around in my chair to narrow my eyes at her. "Okay, maybe I was exaggerating a little..."

“‘A little,'" I muttered, spinning back around.

She rushed over, sitting on the bed next to the desk and grabbing my knee before I could pick my pen back up. "But I really think you should take a break." I paused to look at her for a moment, trying hard to resist. "You've been working a lot lately, even after practice hours... especially after practice hours." I forced a smile and shook my head, turning to the side to fight back a sarcastic laugh. "I'm serious, unnie," she said, bringing my eyes back to hers, "We're all worried about you."

I blinked as she stared back, completely serious. Had it really gotten that bad? I mean, our debut was nearing, so of course I'd been working harder these days. I often took time out of my breaks to work on writing and producing: perfecting the songs we planned to put on the album. But, that's what everyone does, right? That's what I was expected to do as an idol.

I sighed. Maybe I was going a little overboard. Shaking my head once more, I replied, "I'm sorry, Yujin." Taking a deep breath, I rubbed my hands over my face as I exhaled. "I didn't mean to make you guys worry." My lips turned down when my eyes met hers again. Sometimes I wondered what I did to deserve such caring members.

Yujin's warm, brown eyes shined in the lamp light as a smile slowly spread across her lips, exposing her dimples. "It's okay, unnie," she said, and suddenly launched forward, jumping on me and wrapping her arms around my shoulders. I laughed, still somewhat unused to her physical affection. She really did suit the role of maknae perfectly, always acting clingy and cute towards me like a puppy. "I know you're doing it for us," she whispered, making my chest feel warm.

There was a brief moment of silence where I allowed myself to appreciate the support and love I felt from the young singer on my lap. She probably had a million things on her mind being so young, away from home, and having pressures and expectations put on her that nobody her age should ever have to deal with. Yet, she still chose to prioritize me over all of it. The funny thing is, I was the oldest member, so I should've been the one taking care of her, not the other way around.

"This does mean you're gonna take a break now, right?" Yujin mumbled into my shoulder before backing away.

I laughed. "Yes, that's what it means." She giggled and stood up, pulling me up with her like she thought I might've been lying, still planning to stay planted in that chair for the rest of the night.

"Good, because your girlfriend invited you to a party." A voice from outside the room cut in, directing my eyes to the open doorway. There stood a muscular girl with golden hair pulled back in a half-up half-down hairstyle.

"Who, you?" Yujin replied, raising her eyebrows in disbelief, "Because last time I checked she was my-"

"I don't remember inviting Y/N to a party." Yet another voice interrupted the youngest member, appearing behind the blonde. She nonchalantly popped what I assumed was a peanut in her mouth, making her short, dark red hair flop to one side before she smirked and sent me a wink.

"Sooyoung unnie~" Yujin dragged out, whining at the red-haired member, "you ruined my line." I just stood there with pink cheeks as I watched the all-too-familiar scene play out in front of me.

"Blame Heejin, she's the one who said my name." Sooyoung shrugged, leaning one of her hands near the top of the door frame.

"She said 'Y/N's girlfriend,'" Yujin grumbled, clearly annoyed.

"Exactly," Sooyoung said, sending the maknae a tight-lipped smile.

"Uh, clearly I was referring to myself," Heejin butted in before the youngest member could get a word in. And, just like that, the room erupted into chaos, all three members yelling and arguing over each other.

If you had told me a few years ago that three of my future group members would be fighting over me, I would've laughed in your face, even if they were joking. And, yet, here I stand.

"Guys, guys please," I raised my voice loud enough to be heard over the bickering. Luckily they started to quiet down after getting their last remarks in and sneering at each other. "Enough with the joking-"

"Oh, you think we're joking." Sooyoung deadpanned, then looked me up and down in a way that made me feel weak in the knees.

"So is Y/N coming to Minji's party?" A fourth voice asked, completely oblivious to what just went down (or, maybe just so used to it that she had tuned the bickering out). All eyes landed on the brown and pink haired member like she had just exposed their secret.

"Yeji..." Heejin said disappointedly.

"Wait, I thought you were talking about Yoohyeon," Yujin furrowed her eyebrows.

"I thought you were talking about me." Sooyoung added, feigning cluelessness.

"Be quiet!" The other two members said in unison, only making the red-haired woman smile proudly.

"I was talking about Yoohyeon," Heejin explained. "It's Minji's party, but Yoohyeon's the one who invited us."

It took a moment to process, but once everything clicked, I shouted, "Yah! Yoohyeon's not my girlfriend."

"Right, and Sooyoung's not attracted to women." Heejin muttered, making the maknae bust out laughing.

"Yah, watch it, hypocrite." Sooyoung raised her chin towards the youngest.

"She's the hypocrite." Yujin giggled, pointing at Heejin. "And she's not wrong."

"You're all missing the point here," the blonde took over, turning back towards me, "Y/N is the hypocrite."

"I-"

"Nope. You get no say in this." Heejin pointed a finger at me and then quickly put it down. "We all know you like her."

"Yep," Yujin confirmed.

Sooyoung coughed before muttering, "Simp," then looked around like nothing happened.

Even Yeji was nodding in agreement and I knew, at this point, arguing was useless.

"So, about that party..." I smiled sheepishly.

"Ayyyy," a couple of them yelled and Sooyoung ran over to put her arm around my shoulders and drag me out of the room. Before I could regret my decision, we were all packing into a van on our way to our company building.

~

When we got to HappyFace, the members of Dreamcatcher had prepared more for their little impromptu party than we had initially anticipated. I honestly thought we'd just be sitting, talking, and maybe eating, but Sua had apparently insisted on making the practice room into a dance floor/party room. We could hear the music blaring the second we stepped out of the van. We all ended up laughing, expecting no less from a group just as chaotic as ours.

Soon after we went inside, the girls split up, going to eat or dance. I ended up staying in the main room, eating snacks and making small talk with Handong. I hadn't seen Yoohyeon yet and I wondered if she even came or decided to stay back in the dorm. I figured, since she invited us, she would at least make an appearance at some point.

My wandering eyes must've given me away, because Dongie suddenly said, "She's in one of the vocal practice rooms."

I played innocent, "What?"

"Yoohyeon," the pink-haired woman explained, "I know that's who you're looking for." The knowing grin on her face sent heat rushing to my cheeks.

"That's not what I-"

"She insisted on staying in there," she continued, ignoring my protests, "I think something's making her nervous," she drew out with a smirk, causing my face to darken a shade. "Maybe you should go talk to her."

"Uh..." I stared dumbly.

"It's okay, I know you want to," Handong smiled what seemed like an actual genuine, comforting smile before shooing me away, "now go."

I sighed, getting up and walking towards the practice rooms reluctantly. I didn't want to admit that Handong was right, but I did want to talk to Yoohyeon. Although, the thought of being in a room with her alone made me nervous. Even just making eye contact was enough to make me completely forget any language known to man, so this encounter was sure to end with me making a fool out of myself.

As I neared the rooms, I heard quiet humming leaving one of them and figured it must be her since the other members were elsewhere and no one would be using these right now. The humming stopped abruptly when I knocked quietly on the door.

"Come in," that voice I had grown addicted to said gently.

I opened the door slowly, seeing that her back was turned to me and her hand was holding a pencil as she wrote in her notebook. The scene reminded me of earlier today and I wondered if she would overwork herself when she got anxious like I did. She was wearing a loose, multicolored flannel, tight, black adidas pants, and her usual converse shoes. Her brown hair was freshly cut into a bob style and time seemed to stop for a second when she looked back at me. I hadn't seen her in person since she changed her hair and suddenly I understood why everyone was talking about it. She was breathtaking.

"Hi?" She smiled shyly, probably not expecting me. I stood there staring at her, still struck by her beauty... so long that she ended up giggling.

"Sorry," I shook my head, looking at the ground and internally cursing myself for the blush I knew was on my cheeks. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I can leave if you-"

"No!" She shouted, making my eyes widen and dart back to her. "I mean, no, it's okay." She looked away, but I noticed her jaw clench. "I was just finishing up anyways."

I nodded with a smile, endeared that she didn't seem to want me to leave. Though, I realized, she couldn't see it, so I replied, "okay."

A few seconds of awkward silence passed between us. We used to be able talk hours on end without ever running out of things to say. But, lately, there was a strange tension between us and it made me wonder what changed. I mean, I know what changed for me... I developed feelings for her. But what changed for her? Or was I just the one making it awkward?

"Did you happen to watch that scary movie I told you about?" I asked randomly, resisting the urge to facepalm for picking that, out of everything, as the topic of conversation.

Yoohyeon laughed, turning her head to meet my eyes again, showing off her smile that always gave me butterflies. "Yeah, I did, actually."

I returned the smile, touched that she cared enough to follow through with my recommendations. "And?"

"It was good," she shrugged, "I liked it."

"I-is that it?"

"Well, you were kinda hyping it up a lot so maybe I was expecting more from it?" Yoohyeon drug the words out like she was asking a question, probably too afraid to outright say she didn't like it because she didn't want to ruin it for me.

"Yah. It was so good though," I argued.

"Was it really good or do you just have a crush on the hot Japanese lesbian character in it?" She blurted out, making my jaw drop. How was I supposed to respond to that? "Mhm, that's what I thought. You totally have a thing for Japanese girls."

"No, I really don't," I defended, but she wasn't even listening.

"What's with that by the way?" She kept going, "It's like you don't even like Korean girls."

I couldn't help but laugh. Ironic that she was the one saying that. "You have no idea." I muttered.

"Oh really?" She perked up. Why did I say that out loud? "So you do like Korean girls?" She asked and then all-too-eagerly gestured for me to come sit next to her. Why was she so interested in this?

I sighed, wiping my sweaty hands on my pants before walking over. "Yeah." I sat down. Yoohyeon stared at me for a second like she was checking to make sure I wasn't lying. The way her eyes were carefully scrutinizing my face started getting to me. I couldn't take when she looked at me like that. "What?" I said shyly, pushing her shoulder so that she'd stop staring.

"What?" She repeated with a laugh. "I can't look at you?" A teasing smile made its way onto her lips. This wasn't a new occurrence. Although, it was normally me intentionally making her panic. Now it was more often the other way around. The more times I noticed I couldn't keep eye contact with her the more I started to realized I liked her more than just a friend.

"You know that's not it," I blushed, still looking away.

"Then what?" Yoohyeon giggled, shoving my shoulder back.

"It's just-"

"It's just what?" She leaned forward, wanting me to look at her.

I smiled in my embarrassment. "Nothing. It's stupid anyways." I glanced at her a second to see her watching my expressions closely.

"Well now you have to tell me." She grinned, using the phrase we always used to when one of us wouldn't tell the other something.

I turned my head to her. "It's just..." She was perched on the edge of her seat, so eager for what I had to say. And God, I wanted so badly to tell her. Maybe she was hoping I'd admit my feelings. But how could I know? Maybe I could just go the safe route and compliment her. After what we were talking about earlier, maybe she'd get the hint. "You look..." pretty? No, she hates being called pretty. Beautiful? Is that even any different? I can't just say 'good' and 'handsome' seems a little weird right now. Maybe 'attractive'... no that sounds douchey-

"What, I look ugly?"

"No! No, of course not," I rushed out and we both ended up laughing.

"You look beautiful," I said, causing her to stop laughing and look at me.

When she realized I was being serious, she was the one to break eye contact. "Really?" She chuckled, her voice shaky. "I just got out of practice though," she brushed it off. "I think you're lying." She joked. I noticed she tended to do that any time we got serious like this.

"Really? I would've never guessed," I replied honestly. She seriously was completely and utterly clueless about how beautiful she was.

She met my eyes again, timid. "You're just saying that-"

"No, I mean, you look good in anything. Even your practice clothes." Her cheeks turned red and she laughed nervously while punching my shoulder.

"Shut up."

"Yah, I'm being serious." I laughed, pushing her hands away from me. "And I get why everyone likes your new hairstyle." She finally stopped attacking me and looked back at me. We just stared at each other for a moment and, as much as I hoped she realized I was being genuine, the sudden silence made me nervous again. "Really though. You look like a badass Black Widow or something," I finally broke the silence.

"Ooookay." She laughed and stood up. "Marvel nerd." She shoved me for the eightieth time tonight. "That's my cue to leave."

"Noooo," I cried dramatically, "don't leave me, unnie."

"Unnie?" She exclaimed with a laugh. "When have you ever called me that?" Before I could respond, she was walking out the door and turning off the light with me still inside. "That person's weird," she yelled back and I just imagined her pointing her finger back at the door.

Well, guess it's safe to say the compliment route didn't work...

~

About an hour passed and I hadn't talked to Yoohyeon any more. Some of my younger members had headed back to the dorm to rest and a couple others I had lost track of. Most of the older members started drinking and, with the majority of them being lightweights, let's just say... they were intoxicated. And Dreamcatcher + alcohol did not equal a pleasant mix.

I would find this out sooner rather than later when Sua came out of nowhere and started dragging me down the hall. I didn't have time to ask where she was taking me before she was pushing me through a doorway. The room it led to was dark with nothing but moving colored lights illuminating the surroundings and music blaring, similar to the practice room.

"Alright, we can start now," Sua shouted after closing the door behind me and running to the center of the room where a table was set up. Crowded around the table, I noticed Minji, Siyeon, Yoohyeon, Dami, Sooyoung, and Heejin, along with Sua.

Sooyoung saw me and made her way over, pulling me further in the room. "There you are. We've been waiting for you." Her words came out slow and a little slurred.

"What's going on?" I asked. "And are you drunk?" Just as I tried to scold her for setting a bad example as our leader, Sua's loud voice cut in.

"Alriiiight, ladies," she clapped her hands together once, "first up is... drumroll please..." The girls around me started making drumroll noises with their mouths or tapped on the table with their fingers. It was pretty dark, so it was hard to make out their faces, but they all seemed to be smiling like they were doing something they shouldn't be. Sua tapped on the device in her hand and then smirked. "Yoohyeon!" she said, making the room erupt into cheers.

I looked over just as the tall member put her hands over her face in embarrassment. Clearly she was dreading being picked and I wondered what could be so bad that she didn't want to do. Sua nudged the brunette forward a little towards the table. "The party Gods have chosen you," a slap sounded, making Yoohyeon flinch. From my time around this group, I had a good feeling it came from the dancer spanking Yoohyeon's butt, "start stripping." I nearly choked on my own spit. Stripping??

Smacking Sooyoung next to me, I gave her a look that showed her how insane I thought this all was. "What did you drag me into?" I whisper-yelled, glad the music was loud enough and the room was dark enough to mask my panic.

"Just watch." She replied, much too calm for my liking.

Calm is the furthest thing away from what I was right now, and it only seemed to drift further and further out of reach as I watched Yoohyeon's shaky hands slowly start unbuttoning her flannel. One by one, from the bottom up, the buttons were let loose by her slim fingers, exposing a few more inches of her tan skin every time. Even with it being dark, the occasional flashing party lights danced across her torso, highlighting how taut the muscles were underneath her smooth skin. She wore only a tight, grey Calvin Klein bra underneath, making all the blood rush to my head.

Ignoring the hollering from her members and mine, she tugged on the sleeves and finally pulled the shirt all the way off. Dami grabbed it from her hands, but I barely even paid attention. I was too focused on her. My heart pounded in my chest as my eyes took in every inch of her skin: her strong neck, exposed collarbones, defined biceps, long torso, tiny waist. I nearly had to stop myself from stepping forward and tracing my fingers over the lines between her abs, it was so tempting. What I would give to just touch-

"You're staring," a low voice whispered to my side. I turned suddenly, growing embarrassed when I realized it was Siyeon who had caught me.

"And blushing," Sooyoung added, to which I responded with another slap on her shoulder.

"Am not," I defended, making Siyeon laugh.

"Wait 'til you see what comes next," the blue-haired vocalist teased, directing my eyes back to the shirtless girl.

My mouth went dry when she climbed onto the table and laid on her back as Sua stood over her. This couldn't possibly be leading anywhere good. Minji came from the other side of the room with a bottle of tequila and a few other items in her hands that I couldn't quite make out. Yep, this definitely wasn’t good.

"While Minji's getting everything ready, let's see who tonight's lucky participant is." Sua tapped on her device once more as the crowd started yelling again.

Yoohyeon looked anxiously around the room and I subconsciously scooted over so that Sooyoung was blocking her view of me. Meanwhile, Dami was helping pour a shot while Minji handed Yoohyeon a lime and started shaking something into her hand over the younger member's torso. When she was satisfied, she turned her hand over onto Yoohyeon's stomach and started spreading the white grains into a line down the middle, from the top of her bellybutton to the white band on her bra. Salt? Or sugar? Everyone else seemed to know what was happening, but I was growing more confused by the second.

"And, the lucky winner is..." the drumming noises picked up again and Sua seemed to drag it out longer this time. Her eyes glanced up from her phone to meet mine and a devilish grin took over her lips. Oh no. "Congratulations Y/NN," she mocked victoriously and somehow I knew from that look on her face that this wouldn't end well for me.

I froze, sure I was hearing things. I didn't even notice how Yoohyeon's cheeks had turned pink or that Sooyoung had walked behind me until I was being shoved towards the table. The girls in the room cheered, but I was hardly focused on them. Sua grabbed my arm, pulling me to the edge of the table and handed me something.

"What do I-"

"Drink this," she instructed, gesturing to the shot glass now in my left hand, "then all you have to do is finish it off with some salt and lime. It's that easy." Her calm voice nearly convinced me, but the hint of mischief in her eyes made me rethink. The laughter coming from the short silver-haired rapper confirmed my suspicions.

There's no way that's all I had to do.

Then, my eyes caught sight of the white line trailing down the center of Yoohyeon's abs. Salt. Her hand hesitantly reached up to her mouth to bite down on the fruit Minji had given her. Lime.

Well, fuck.

I looked over at Sua in utter disbelief. All she did was wink and say, "Go get her, tiger." She smacked me on the butt, sending me forward and forcing me to catch myself on either sides of the table next to Yoohyeon's ankles. I was positioned right between her legs, giving me a sickeningly attractive view of her body. Suddenly my head started spinning and my gut twisted. Now I was sure I'd pass out.

I didn't have time for that though when the whole room started chanting, "One-shot! One-shot! One-shot!" Sua had turned her phone flashlight on as an impromptu spotlight, so that everyone could see what was happening. Looking down at the liquor in my hand, I tried to convince myself that it wouldn't be that bad. The alcohol would help, right? Isn't that why they called it liquid courage?

I felt a bead of sweat drip down the back of my neck as I looked back at Yoohyeon. She didn't dare look up at me and it made my fingers numb. What was she thinking? Did she want this? Would it make her uncomfortable? It definitely felt like it was crossing a line. What if it made things weird between us? But, then again, things between us are already weird...

Screw it.

The girls cheered even louder when I put the shot glass to my lips and tilted my head back, downing the entire thing. Not even a second later I started feeling the effects of the liquor. It was like lightning traveling through my veins, electrifying my senses and making my mind go numb. I wasn't at all prepared for the adrenaline rush it would give me and suddenly doing this didn't seem like a bad idea at all. I wanted it, after all.

Jumping up to plant my knees on the table, I nearly toppled over onto the girl now below me before I caught myself. The alcohol certainly wasn't helping with coordination, but it did make me feel a million times more intensely as I looked down at Yoohyeon. The image of her from this angle was so overwhelming that chills ran across my skin. When she finally met my eyes, her own looked nervous and unsure. In that split second, I raised my eyebrow at her in a silent request for consent that I hoped she would understand. When she raised her own back and looked down at her stomach, I swallowed thickly. She was challenging me.

My hand instinctively brushed my hair back as I lowered myself over her body, causing the overdramatic idols surrounding us let out a few pterodactyl screeches. I grabbed her hips over her black athletic pants, noticing how her hands gripped the side of the table in anticipation, and looked down at the trail of salt starting just above her bellybutton, watching as her stomach moved up and down with her lungs. Her heart must've been beating as fast as mine, she was breathing so heavily. The taste of alcohol still stung the back of my throat, begging me to replace it with something different.

Here goes nothing.

I took a massive breath in before placing the tip of my tongue on her skin. I was glad I had chosen to hold her for support because she instinctively bucked her hips at the contact. This reaction went straight to my head and I flattened my tongue on the way up her smooth stomach in the hopes that she'd do it again. The salty taste quickly became too much, but I kept going, not ready to chicken out just yet. And I was thankful I didn't when she inhaled sharply and arched her back off the table, forcing my nose to brush against her skin. My hands had moved higher on her waist to push her back against the table, allowing me to feel the goosebumps I had left in my wake. Once I finally managed to make it all the way to her bra, her muscles tighten underneath me because of what she knew was coming next and I could've swore I heard her whine when I pulled back.

Raising my head to get a look at her, I had to clench my teeth to stop an ungodly sound from leaving my mouth. Her neck was strained as she tilted her head back with her eyes closed and her teeth clenched around the lime slice between her lips for likely the same reason I was forcing mine closed. Or maybe that was wishful thinking and her body language was really alluding to her discomfort. The thought made me embarrassed for being so aroused by what had just happened. How could I be sure that she was enjoying this too?

By now, I had completely blocked out the people around us, only able to hear the blood pounding in my ears. Just being this close to her and feeling her chest rise and fall against mine made me feel like I was burning alive in the best way possible. So when she finally opened her eyes to let me see that they had now turned a shade darker, that fire burned even hotter. Maybe she was enjoying this. Her chin tilted upwards while she stared intensely into my eyes. It seemed obvious she was offering me the lime between her teeth, but something in her stare felt like she was daring me to do more.

I stayed there for a moment, just looking down at her, frozen. The nerves and doubts started to creep back in as I glanced back and forth between her eyes, almost forcing me off that table. Almost. But then Yoohyeon glanced down at my lips and cocked her eyebrow just like I had done earlier. The simple action felt like she was confirming that she was feeling everything I had been feeling and wanted me to keep going.

So, I slowly leaned down, feeling her eyes on me every second. When I reached the lime, my bottom lip brushed against hers, making her inhale through her nose and bite down harder. One of her hands darted to my jaw as I tilted my head to grab the lime from her with my teeth. She let me take it into my own mouth, watching as I bit down into the fruit, licking her own lips. The sour taste topped off my heightened senses, and now, all I wanted to taste was her.

With her bottom lip now caught between her teeth, she moved her hand to take the lime from my mouth. I allowed her to throw it on the ground and licked the rest of the juice from my own lips. Her eyes followed my tongue and stayed on my lips. After a few seconds that felt like hours, she put her hand on the back of my neck to pull me down and there was no doubt in my mind that she was going to kiss me. She didn't even care that other people were looking, it was only me and her ... except, it wasn't.

"Okay, enough fun lovebirds." Sua's voice rudely interrupted, bringing the rapidly escalating moment to a full stop. "Go get a room or something." She shoved me off of Yoohyeon and I would've fallen off the table had Sooyoung not been there to catch me.

I had been so invested in that moment that it felt like sensory overload when my hearing tuned back in to everything around me. Sooyoung held me up straight and shook my shoulders, trying to bring me back down to planet Earth. "Uhm, what the fuck just happened?!" She nearly yelled, pulling me to the side of the room, away from the table.

I looked over my shoulder to see Yoohyeon glancing back at me while Dami put her shirt back on her. The shiny line on her abdomen made me bite the side of my tongue, remembering the taste of salt and the feeling of her warm, soft skin underneath it. "You tell me," I replied, unable to pull my eyes away from the brunette. She was going to kiss me. The pit of my stomach tingled at the thought.

"Dude," Sooyoung turned me so that I was finally looking at her, "you're fucking crazy." I tried to ignore her, the last thing I needed right now was a lecture. Instead I tried looking for Yoohyeon, who, in the split second I had turned away, had vanished. "I don't think they were actually expecting you to do it," Sooyoung admitted.

"What?" I immediately turned back to her, now angry. "You mean they set this up as a... as a joke?"

"No it's-"

"And you let me do it?" I yelled, ripping my arm out of her hold and glaring at her.

"To be fair, I didn't think you would," Sooyoung tried to reason, but it was too late. Now I was overthinking everything. What if she wasn't really trying to kiss me?

"I gotta go," I said and walked to the door, not waiting for a reply.

"Wait, Y/N!" Sooyoung yelled after me, but I was already gone.

~

Feeling overwhelmed by embarrassment, I rushed through the company halls, hoping to escape this place before anyone could stop me. I was so sure of the fact that I had made Yoohyeon uncomfortable that I felt ashamed and disgusted with myself. She was my friend, why would I think that was a good idea? I should've known doing something that foolish would have repercussions. I was just so wrapped up in the idea that she might've actually liked me as much as I liked her. When, in reality, that was probably farthest from the truth.

Now I was sure things between us could never be the same again. How could I ever face her knowing how I made her feel? Maybe it would be best if I tried to avoid her all together. It might be tricky being forced to use the same tiny company building, but maybe I could manage it. I had to.

Ironically, as I paced down the hallway in my trek to the exit, the door to a vocal practice room opened to reveal the very girl I was desperately trying to evade. When she noticed it was me, her gaze was so intense that I felt the need to start spewing apologies as I tried to leave.

"I'm really sorry and I know you probably hate me now, so I'll just go before I make things wo-" She stepped forward and grabbed my arm, yanking me into the practice room with her. I could only assume she was angry when she slammed the door and turned to forcefully shove me back against the wall.

"Yooh-" I tried to apologize again, but suddenly her lips were pressing roughly into mine, catching me completely off guard. There was no time to react when she reached up to hold onto my neck tightly, whether for support or to stop me from pushing her off, I wasn't sure. All air left my lungs at the sensation and the desperation in her kisses convinced me it was the latter. She wanted this. Badly. And she wasn't going to let me be the one to stop her. Not that I wanted to anyways, even with how utterly confused this was making me.

The way her lips relentlessly attacked me, capturing my bottom lip, only to release it, push further into me, tilt her head a little in the other direction, and trade it for my top lip—like she was starved for a taste of me and couldn't get as much as she wanted quick enough—made my brain foggy. The veil of lust overtaking my mind only got worse when I started running out of air and it seemed apparent that Yoohyeon wasn't planning on letting me go anytime soon. I had no idea my earlier actions had managed to stoke the long-burning flame she had inside of her for me and now it engulfed her into a fire too hot to be put out.

As much as I would've gladly continued providing fuel—because the feeling of its irresistible flames now catching fire inside my own chest and spreading throughout my body was torturously addicting—my lungs burned painfully, begging for the oxygen she had stolen from them, and my tongue stung with the bitter taste of alcohol coming from her own lips. These bold actions struck me as uncharacteristic for the usually polite and occasionally shy woman and I started to realize she was likely acting under the influence, her intuition clouded by intoxication. This thought gave me the final ounce of willpower I needed to raise my own hands to her cheeks and push my thumbs against her chin to separate our lips.

"What are you doing?" I asked with a huff as my lungs made a violent effort to refill themselves, hindered by the strain my beating heart had on the amount of air they allowed in.

My eyes were blown wide while hers slowly fluttered open, hooded with lust once they met mine. Our lips were still just centimeters apart and somehow looking at her now had me more panicked than when she was practically on top of me, making out with me. Seeing her features up close and knowing that it really was her who initiated this (and I wasn't in some sort of lucid dream) was almost too much to handle.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," Yoohyeon whispered, biting her bottom lip as if to savor the taste I left on it and leaning impossibly further into me so that our noses were touching as she stared into my eyes. It was definitely too much to handle.

Even with just one sentence, I started doubting everything. She's wanted to do this for a long time. Meaning she's thought about it multiple times in the past, but never acted on it. Meaning she might actually like me more than a friend. Except the faint smell of alcohol on her breath still itched at the back of my mind, unwilling to be ignored. People do plenty of things they'd never do sober once intoxicated. It clouds your judgement, blurring the line between what's right and wrong. So, what if it was just the alcohol talking? What if she didn't really mean it? If anything, she was probably just drunk and horny and I happened to be in the right place at the right time, making her feel feelings that weren't actually there before she started drinking.

Yoohyeon seemed to grow impatient as I stood there, frozen in my internal battle, unsure of how to proceed. She didn't need my go-ahead anyways, she was going to decide for the both of us. And that decision manifested itself in her fingers trailing up the length of my neck, weaving themselves into my hair at the base of my skull, and her tongue taking advantage of my parted lips from the gasp her actions had elicited, swiping across my own without warning.

Feeling helpless and mildly pitiful from how much of a mess she had managed to make me within the span of a few seconds, all I could do was blindly reach down to clutch her slim waist for support. Though she seemed to take it to mean something completely different when she hummed and pressed herself against my right thigh. With her legs on either side of mine, I nearly lost balance, forcing me to pull her waist further into me. My thigh consequently put pressure against the spot between her legs, causing her to let out a high-pitched noise into my mouth.

Oh my god.

Was she really this turned on? Had I made her this turned on? No, I couldn't handle the thought. It was too much. Even if everything she said was true and she felt all these things for me, it was wrong to let her go on in this state.

"Wait," I mumbled when she pulled back for a second, but she ignored me, kissing my bottom lip with such force that she might as well have been biting it. At that thought, images of the lime clenched between her teeth from before flashed through my mind and I caught myself wondering what my lip might've felt like there instead.

Her steady rhythm of swiping her tongue into my mouth and finishing by closing her mouth and capturing my lips before pulling away to do the same again was slowly driving me crazy and had my brain picturing scenarios between us much worse than her simply biting my lip. With the way her hands started dragging down over my collarbones on a clear mission to get a feel for what was hiding under my clothes, I knew she was likely imagining the same. I needed to stop her before this got too far out of control.

I took advantage of the fact that her fingers were no longer holding onto anything to use my own to push her shoulders back. Luckily she didn't immediately crash back into me this time since she had finally run out of air completely. We both inhaled and exhaled heavily and her nose found it's way to bump against mine like she still couldn't stand not touching me. I allowed her a second to open her eyes and when I saw them dart back to my mouth, I rushed to put my thumb over her lips. Her gaze flitted back up to my own and, despite my attempt to calm her down, she seemed to like it a little too much.

I moved my thumb down so it was resting on her chin instead and whispered, "we shouldn't be doing this."

Yoohyeon grabbed my hand that was holding her face, wrapping her thumb around my own. "Why not?" She whispered back, raising her eyebrow and sending me a look that I knew was dangerous.

"You're drunk," I answered, my voice a little louder this time. It became clear to me that nearly everything I had been doing and saying she took as me trying to turn her on. But this wasn't some game I was playing. Not anymore.

"I'm not drunk," she stood up straight and, as if on cue, wobbled backwards as she lost her balance. I was able to pull her in by her waist before she could topple over. "Okay, maybe a little," she giggled, making herself comfortable again with her arms wrapping securely around my neck.

I glared back at her as a warning, but the smile brought on by her laughter remained on her face, showing off her dimples. My attempts to make logical decisions continued to dwindle and fail. The more I tried to think everything through, the realer it became. And the realer it became, the more I realized that this might be the only time I'd ever get what I truly wanted. Her. That thought alone was enough to make me give up any attempts of stopping her. Of course, it didn't help that she was also playing the part incredibly well.

In that moment of internal debate, while I was busy convincing myself to stop her, she was busy getting lost in my eyes. "I like you," she admitted so quietly that I almost didn't hear it, making my heart stop all together.

Damn you, Kim Yoohyeon, for being so convincing. For these feelings spilling out of me like a hopeless romantic who can't help but hang onto your every word, even in your drunken state. For stealing my heart and holding it right out in front of me, reminding me who’s really in control of it. And for doing it all so easily, acting like you're totally oblivious to the hold you have on me.

But, then again, maybe you were, and that was the problem.

"You don't really mean that," I stated, practically begging that she'd just agree and drop it right there so I could stop holding onto hope. I was so tired of questioning every single thing she did and said. Couldn't she just bury it for good?

But, no. "I do," she insisted. Like her kisses before, she seemed desperate to prove it to me. It had me wondering for a moment if she was as dependent on me to validate her feelings as I was on her. But I quickly shook the ridiculous thought away.

"No," I sighed, "Yoohyeon-"

"What's that saying?..." she trailed off, ignoring me again, "drunken thoughts are sober words." Her eyebrows furrowed, "wait no. Sober thoughts-"

"The fact that you can't even form a coherent sentence right now is really not helping your case." I tried to sound serious, but I couldn't stop the hint of a smile gracing my lips. One more thing to add to that list: damn you for being such a cute drunk.

The brunette pouted, and her brown eyes shined in the hallway light peeking through the door, making her resemble a puppy dog. Case in point.

"I want to believe you," I told her, no need whatsoever to fake the honesty in my voice, "but you're obviously not in your right mind." I couldn't be sure she was really listening intently like she appeared to be, but I was just glad she had given up on her attempt to quiet me with more kisses (well, not entirely glad, but, you know). "I don't want to feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

When I was finished, Yoohyeon whined and buried her nose in my neck. "I hate that you're such a good person sometimes." I squeezed her sides, pulling her closer so that her chest was flush against mine. I could feel her heartbeat, just as unstable as mine from earlier.

It was still proving incredibly difficult not to let go of reason completely and allow her to continue doing whatever she wanted to me when she was being like this. So many times in the past we had only joked about anything to do with relationships, always tiptoeing around the dangerous waters of our feelings for each other, but, this was the first rare moment where she was finally bold enough to dive headfirst into them. And, with her next words, she pulled off her last final trick to drag me down under the surface with her.

"Cause all I can think about is you on top of me on that table and the way your tongue felt against my skin," she whispered in my ear as her lips teasingly brushed across the sensitive skin just beneath my jawline.

Oh my god, I thought, except this time it left my mouth and had Yoohyeon giggling before her lips began claiming their territory on my neck. Though, it was less a cute giggle and more an evil one, like she enjoyed saying such explicit things because of the reactions she could get out of me. So much for being a cute drunk.

The sensation of her plump, velvety lips sucking down on my skin was slowly overriding all the thoughts in my mind. "I really need to take you home," I said, more to remind myself than to tell her. She hummed and I felt her smile against my neck. "Not like that," I tried to explain, but it was obvious she wasn't really listening. "Hey," pulling her away from me, I tilted her chin up so that we stood face to face once again. She gulped, looking up at me like she was completely innocent. "You're probably not even gonna remember this," I said under my breath and shook my head.

Still, I took a deep breath and looked back at her. "I like you, too, okay? And, God," I leaned into her, resisting the urge to feel her intoxicating lips against mine just one last time, "I want this more than you could possibly know." The obvious desperation in my tone made Yoohyeon smile proudly. "But I don't want this to just be a drunken mistake that you regret in the morning." Her lips turned down into a frown at that.

Really, knowing her regretting this was a distinct possibility hurt. A lot. And now I was thinking maybe it would be better off if she did forget this whole thing ever happened. "So you're gonna let me take you home, and if you still feel the same way in the morning, then maybe we can talk." For once, I could finally tell the sentimental look in her eyes was genuine and not another one of her deceiving tricks. "Deal?"

Yoohyeon pressed her lips together. "Deal.”

**This imagine was transferred over from my Wattpad account @ OT5Stan4Life**

[theroseceleste]

Pilot Miguel - Part 3 - Te Necesito

It's your first full day in Acapulco and you wake up to a rather... interesting surprise...

Buy me a coffee! (And gain access to my discord)

Word count - 3740

Contains : Mentions of smut (steamy moment and mention of masturbation

This fic will have smut, but not in this chapter. Minors DNI

Enjoy! xx

Part 1 Part 2

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks xx

You wake the next morning. Your room is almost pitch black apart from the slight glow around the blackout curtains. The gentle hum of air conditioning has been a constant noise all night, keeping you comfortable as you sleep peacefully.

The plans for today consist of eating, relaxing and sunbathing. Maybe throw in a dash of swimming in the hotel’s large, curvy pool, complete with its own waterfall feature.

Your phone buzzes as your Do Not Disturb disables itself. Picking it up, you check to see what notifications you have missed. Some are from Instagram - bound to be some late responses to your snaps of the beach you took yesterday. Oh… hang on… you also have several massages from… Miguel?

Your heart pounds as you wonder what his messages contained. Looking at the number of notifications, it seems odd that a quiet and reserved character suddenly had a lot to say to send ten texts.

The Messages app loads and you tap on your conversation with him and your jaw drops. You start reading the first text from him. And the next - and the next…

“I think I like you.”

“No. I know I like you.”

“Actually, I want u.”

“I neeed youu.”

“Fuk texting is hard when ur drunk, hanng om”

Your mind races even more when you see the next messages aren’t texts - they’re voice notes!

A shaky manicured finger presses play on the first one and you’re instantly met with a loud moan.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry for being a dick this morning. Just wanted to get that off my chest— mhmm…” he pauses for a second to take a heavy, shaky breath.

There are certain indistinguishable noises in the background, giving you a sneaking suspicion he’s in the middle of something…

“You smell so good by the way. I want to sniff that pretty neck of yours before I kiss it, bite it— mhmmm… suck on it.”

Those words, those moans… they go straight to your core. And you're certain by now he was playing with himself as he sent that voice note.

You press play on the next one.

“(Y/N), I want to hear your pretty little voice call out my name. I’ve not heard you bless me with that gift yet and I’m dying to hear it. Mhhhmmfuuuck…”

You don’t know what’s sexier, the desperate words of his desire, or his lusty moans. A series of strong, delicious pulses radiate from your core.

You press play on the next one.

“Chiquita, por favor. Escuchame. Mhmm… sí… sí…” (Little one, please. Listen to me. Yes… yes)

His voice breaks as he clearly put more effort into what he was doing. You can hear the jangling of the metallic links in his watch strap with every aggressive stroke.

The level of sexy turns up a notch too as he introduces speaking Spanish to you.

“Mi bonita, Parker’s right - don’t tell him I said that though. I need a damn good fuck and I want it with you so fucking bad-! Mierda! Por favor - mi chiquita - por fav-“

The message ends abruptly, and you see why, because the next and final communication from him is an actual video.

Pressing play, you see a bleary eyed, slightly dazed Miguel, lips parted as he moans exquisitely.

“Bonita…” he pants heavily, “you did this, bonita…”

He turns the camera to span down his defined chest, toned abs and then to his hips as he lays flat on his bed. You can’t stop yourself from squealing in absolute shock as you see his massive, hard cock twitching and dripping with his cum. Then the camera returns to his face.

“Te necesito…” (I need you)

The video ends. You stare at the final image, the cell phone screen glaring back into your face. His words circling your mind like a sexy carousel, making you press your thighs together.

This is outrageously insane. You’re certain that he’s going to wake up this morning and regret the whole thing. He’ll never be able to look you in the eye again. Fuck, you won’t ever see him in the same light either…

You have heard, and seen him in an extremely vulnerable and intimate moment. A feeling of guilt flashes through you as you know you kept listening and watching when you didn’t have to. But you were curious, not to mention you’re now left feeling incredibly turned on by it all.

After showering, you pick up your favourite bikini from your case and put it on. Then you grab an almost see through dress that is supposed to be worn over the top of your swimsuit. The smooth material caresses your skin as you walk, leaving your room.

Your eyes flit over to Miguel’s door as you feel tempted to knock. But he’s probably nursing a hangover and won’t thank you for the disturbance.

The sound of your flip flops slapping the underside of your feet with every step echoes down the corridor before you stop to summon the lift.

Miguel lays on his front, sprawled out on the bed, head buried in his pillow. His massive biceps flex as his arms support the underside of the soft bag of feathers, cradling him as he sleeps. The clean, white bed sheet drapes over his perfectly shaped ass, leaving his broad shoulders and back exposed to the conditioned air.

Eventually the repetitive sound of his phone buzzing finally disturbs his slumber. A deep, muffled groan comes out from somewhere within the pillow.

His head pounds. Five beers might have been too much for someone who doesn’t really drink all that often. He was desperate last night to forget. Forget about the crappy divorce stuff, forget about his disappointing life. Now, he regrets being so stupid thinking that beer will solve his problems.

The phone buzzes again and a swift hand swipes it from the table before he rolls onto his back, making the room spin.

He unlocks his phone after picking it up. Big mistake. The bright glare went directly into his brain.

“Shit…” he grumbles as he squints.

Then he feels his blood drain from his face. If he wasn’t lying down he might have passed out.

Before him, on his phone are ten messages sent from him to you the night before. Ten highly embarrassing and downright shocking revelations sent your way and he hardly remembers doing it.

He squirms as he sees he actually sent a video. This can’t be good… A large index finger clumsily prods the play button and he watches himself back, almost dropping his phone when the video shows his spent cock. He locks the device instantly and presses it facedown against the mattress.

“SHIT!”

Panic rises within him as his large hands cover his face, to hide himself from the shame.

Maybe you haven’t seen it yet… Grabbing the phone once more, he unlocks it, swears at how bright his screen is again and sees that you left the messages on read almost two hours ago.

“FUCK!”

What an absolute mess. What the hell is he going to do? He half expects an email from HR after you, quite understandably so, report him for being highly inappropriate.

One day. One fucking day into his new job and he’s done something totally fucking stupid like this. Could this be a new fastest record for getting fired?

He has to think of damage control, and quickly. But how can he come back from this? He has shared his beer fuelled, explicit desires and bared all - quite literally to you.

He plays his voice notes back, to know exactly what he said to you. The level of cringe he feels is so awful, he wishes the mattress of his bed will open up and swallow him whole.

The fact you left it on read too, he worries you might have passed out in shock. But then again, what could you possibly say in return to make him feel better? Maybe that you want him too…?

Miguel shakes his head - and instantly regrets it as a large painful throb pulsed within his skull. No! He was drunk last night. That’s all it was. That was the beer talking. It was only yesterday that he stopped being someone else’s husband. It is far too soon. But it's no good telling himself that. He’s got to find you and put things right.

Ten minutes later, he leaves his room, stuffing his phone and keycard in his pockets and straightens his light blue button up t-shirt.

As he stands in the descending lift, he nervously thinks about what he’s going to say. That’s if he can find you. You said you were intending on doing nothing. Perhaps he should have checked your room first, but there might not be anything stopping him from retreating back into his room again like a coward.

He tries the bar first but it’s empty. Next, he goes to the first floor and walks out of the lobby to search the pool area. Ahead of him is a bridge that spans across the pool, leading to the beach. As he walks, his head turns left and right, looking at the few sun lounger occupants.

Panic sets in as he eventually spots you to his left, his heart beating wildly in his chest and his stomach twisting into knots.

You look different, almost unrecognisable with your hair down, no makeup and… wearing a sexy bikini that barely covers your body.

His panic and hesitation overrides his brain. He keeps walking, hoping you don’t see him and he can pretend to go for a walk on the beach. Meanwhile, his gaze remains on you. Partially watching to see if you do look up at him but also checking you out.

He knows he should be approaching the bridge by now, but it never comes. His dumb ass veers slightly to the left of it and steps out over nothing but water.

Every muscle jars as he can’t feel the floor beneath his striding foot but it’s too late, his momentum has carried him too far forward to pull back.

Your eyes suddenly snap open when you hear a short yelp and a large splash right after. Sitting up, the book you had been reading falls off your chest and into your lap.

The water rocks violently at the epicentre of the splash, waves ripple outwards to calmer parts of the pool. Suddenly an absolutely drenched man stands up gasping for breath as his soaked clothes cling tightly to his body, particularly around his chest, waist and hips.

You clasp your hands over your mouth when you see that it’s Miguel. Rising from the sun lounger, you begin to make your way to the poolside.

As you approach, you hear the uttering of bad language, both in English and Spanish coming from him as he wipes his sopping wet hair from his face.

“Oh my goodness, are you okay?” you ask, the shock of the moment temporarily replacing the memory of what you saw this morning.

Kneeling on the side of the pool, you reach out for him so you can help him out. But he doesn’t take your hand. You know for yourself that he’s not going to drown, the water he stands in only comes up to the top of his legs, which would be the height of your waist.

“I’m fine…” he splutters as he places his hands on the side of the pool next to you and in one swift movement, he’s out and standing - something only shorties like yourself can only dream of doing.

As you stand up again, he pats his drenched shorts to check his pockets for his phone and key. They’re still there. He pulls out the smart device and inspects it.

“Oh God, is your phone ruined?”

His thumb presses the lock button to wake it up. The screen comes on just fine.

“Looks to be okay, it’s waterproof so it better be…”

His voice trails off. As he suspected, he can’t look you in the eye. How come you haven’t come up to him and slapped him? You’re being so sweet and caring. He feels you’d be easier to deal with if you were mad.

“Let’s get you back to your room so you can change,” you suggest as you feel water dripping from his clothes and splashing against the slabs beside the pool.

“I’m - I’m fine…” Miguel replies trying to step away but you catch his lower arm.

“Don’t be silly, look at the state of you! You’re soaked. Come on. I insist.”

He groans with reluctance but he lets you quickly grab your things from your sun lounger and return to him.

As the both of you walk side by side back into the hotel, there’s an embarrassing squelch with every one of his footsteps in his flip flops. Observing him as he enters the lift, you see him flinch at the bright lights.

“Hungover?” you ask as your eyes wander over his soaked frame, taking in every curve of his muscles and beads of pool water resting amongst the fine hairs on his firm, soft skin.

“Hmm…” he hums in response with a gentle nod, still not looking at you.

“I’ll get you some painkillers,” you reply as you both step out of lift after it arrives on your floor.

“(Y/N), we need to talk,” Miguel suddenly blurts out as you’re about to press your keycard into your door.

You knew this was coming and you pause before opening the door to your room.

“I know, but let’s get you dry first.”

After grabbing some painkillers for his headache, you enter his open room. He’s already pottering about in his bathroom as you close the door behind you. Two capsules sit next to a bottle of water on his bedside table ready for him to take when he comes out.

As you wait for him, you look around his room. A small collection of Corona bottles sits on the table in front of his bed and some of his clothes lay strewn across the floor

Without thinking, you pick up his pilot shirt, smooth down the creases and hang it up in his little wardrobe space. Next, you pick up his trousers and hang them up neatly too. The purple tie catches your eye, still done up, but loose, also discarded on the floor.

The sound of bare feet padding along the tiled hotel room floor emerges from the ensuite. Miguel, who’s now fully dressed and dry, stops as he watches you pick up his tie, then, his eyes wander to the hangers, holding up his clothes.

“(Y/N), you didn’t need to do that,” he mumbles as he then spots the painkillers you left out for him.

“But, thanks,” he adds, he doesn’t want to sound ungrateful for your help.

The mattress of his bed dips low as he takes a seat, puts both tablets in his mouth and downs them with a large gulp of water.

“You’re welcome,” you reply as you take a seat at the table in his room.

“I’m glad you’re here actually,” he pauses as he moves himself to the end of his bed so he can see you, but keep a good distance between the both of you.

You sit in silence and watch him intently, trying to push the image of the video out of your mind. But with your well practised, approachable demeanour, you keep him calm.

Placing both his huge hands together, as if he’s pleading, he begins to talk.

“First and foremost, I want to apologise for the way I conducted myself last night. It was highly inappropriate of me and I wouldn’t be mad if you have already reported me to HR…” he begins but his hands remain flatly pressed against one another.

“If you haven’t done so already, then I simply ask that you don’t? I know - I have no right to. There is no excuse and it was wrong. I had too much to drink - a rare occurrence for me, I swear.”

He takes a heavy, shaky breath.

“Life has been very sucky lately and I guess I forgot myself…” he pauses as he realises he’s jabbering about his personal life.

“As I said, there’s no excuse. Delete my number, block me, or whatever. It’s one hundred percent justified and I’ll never bother you again.”

Silence falls between the both of you as you take in his apology. You remember seeing that mark on his left ring finger, as if he used to wear a band but has recently taken it off.

“I haven’t gone to HR,” you simply reply, “don’t worry.”

His body practically dissolves at your words of reassurance, the tension within him melts away. He’s not losing his job at least, yet… However he still feels major embarrassment.

“Have you recently gone through a divorce or something?” you ask, his tension returns with a vengeance.

“How did you…?”

“Your ring finger…” you answer his question before he’s even asked it.

Miguel glances down at his left hand. Sure enough, the ghost of his wedding band, clear as day. A visible reminder of his failure. He just simply nods but keeps his gaze off of you.

While you can see he’s clearly feeling bad about his separation, you feel slightly relieved. He’s technically back on the market, if he wishes to be. And maybe when he’s in a better headspace, there may be a chance for you? That’s a nice thought, but something to consider later on. The guy is clearly going through a tough time.

“Is that why you were in a mood during the flight yesterday?”

He thinks for a moment, pondering your question. Taking a deep breath he begins to answer.

“Yes and no. I’m normally like this to be honest. Serious - no messing around, boring I can imagine Parker describing me…”

“Pfft!” you suddenly erupt with laughter.

The Captain is not wrong, that is what Peter would say. A slightly crooked smile breaks across his lips as he hears you laugh. Things can’t be that bad between the both of you and you clearly don’t hate him.

“You and Peter seem pretty close… Are you um…” he starts to ask, but wusses out at the last second, however you realise what he means.

“Oh, God no! He’s funny, yes, charming too, but he’s married and has a kid. We just get on well.”

You said the ‘M word’. His gaze drops again.

“Married huh? Lucky him,” he mumbles, but you’re not sure whether he actually means that or if he’s being sarcastic.

A sympathetic smile spreads across your face.

“I’m sorry that you’re having a terrible time. If you ever need to vent, just text me-”

Miguel suddenly raises his hands to his face and flops against his bed. The image of that video pops into his mind when you mention texting you.

“Ahhh fuck! I can’t believe I did that. I’m such a fucking idiot!”

You stand and approach the foot of his double bed.

“Hey! Hey! It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

You reach and grab his arm to pull him back up, but he’s heavier than you realise.

“I said, it’s fine.”

“But you saw-”

“I know what I saw and it’s fine.”

His head lifts up from the bed as you insist on pulling him up. Parts of him wishes that you were complimenting the part of him that he drunkenly dared to show you last night in his video, but deep down he knows you’re just saying that what happened is water under the bridge.

Finally, the Captain relents and sits back up. The embarrassment still remains, but you have taken the edge off of it.

“So, what are you planning to do tonight then?” you ask as you take a seat next to him on the bed.

“Hmmm…” he hums pensively, “not drinking.”

Another sweet giggle fills the air as you find his response funny.

“You seem more talkative with some beer in you though.”

“Ha! Don’t tempt me,” he replies with a slight chortle.

“No, tonight will be alcohol free. I’m not making that mistake again…”

Miguel falls silent again, his thoughts running away with him.

“Thanks - by the way.”

“For what?”

“Offering to be someone to vent to. I’m not really one to vent and cry on people’s shoulders, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

You give him a gentle nudge with your elbow, making him turn to face you.

“Well, maybe you can try it. New life, new job, new you?”

He huffs as he smiles, showing off his white but slightly crooked teeth. You find his smile cute and makes you feel warm inside, even if it is brief.

“I like that,” he pauses as he thinks about your suggestion.

“Maybe I’ll give it a shot. I’m just not really good at… talking.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try.”

“I suppose it doesn’t…”

The back and forth continues between the both of you until you finally fix up plans for the evening. Miguel seems open for another night of quiet dining and socialising with just you, or maybe Peter, at a push.

You decide to give Miguel a break and close the curtains for him so he can take a nap to sleep off his hangover. Before you leave, you give him a gentle pat on the back that partially turns into a soothing rub over his shoulder.

“I’ll see you later…” you whisper to him with a sweet smile and he watches you leave his room.

Now completely alone, his hand goes to his shoulder, tracing his fingers along where you stroked him, trying to replicate that sensation. Eventually he shakes his head, strips off and crawls into bed to take a much needed nap.

Closing your door behind you, you decide to take your phone out and unlock it. Biting your lip, you quietly play the video back again and listen to his voice notes. The desperation and need in his voice does things to you.

It’s not fair that he had all the fun, just thinking about you, and you didn’t get to join in. But your quiet time alone now is going to fix that, as you play those sound files and that video over and over… and over until you come undone to your skillful fingers…

I hope you enjoyed Part 3!

Buy me a coffee! (And gain access to my discord)

Next Chapter >

If you're interested in commissioning me, please click on the link below to find out more.

[maximura]

Can you make a post of the boy group music you're listening to at the moment? Like your girl group post.

Right now, I'm listening to:

NCT Cinematic Universe And All Adjacent Subsidiaries: HRH Limitless, ISTJ, 90s Love , Love Talk, Domino

Ateez: Silver Light, Cyberpunk, Halazia, HRH Answer

TXT: Chasing That Feeling (Eng), Loser=Lover, Lovesong (pH-1 version), Ring, sorry the new songs can't beat my favourites

Big Bang: Monster, Bae Bae, Crooked

Enhypen: TFW, Drunk-Dazed

TBZ: Maverick

Ghost (Non Kpop): Mary On A Cross (live)

Jungkook: 3D (Alt), Standing Next To You

Monsta X: Rush Hour, One Day, Got My Number

HRH Taemin: Guilty, Advice, Under My Skin

DPR IAN: So Beautiful

Mino: Fear, Runaway, Body, Shoot

EXO: HRH Overdose, Monster, Obsession

Day6: Congratulations (Eng), Shoot Me, Sweet Chaos, The Greatest

IKON: HRH Just Go, I'm Ok, Goodbye Road

SuperM: Tiger Inside

Shinee: Don't Call Me, Hard

VIXX: HRH Error, Light Up The Darkness, Beautiful Liar

Sik-K: HRH Fire

Changmo: Maestro

[akiraak4]

Champagne, Cocaïne,Gasoline

A/N: This is my first time posting on this website, but I thought, why not? It is inspired by Don't Threaten Me with a Good Time by Panic! at the Disco. I do not own the character Cú Chulainn, yada, yada, yada, English is not my first language and all. CW: self-destructive behaviour,(slight) addiction, misuse of drugs and alcohol, drunk driving, self-harming behaviour, depression Wordcount: 2500 Underlying Cú Chulainn x Reader PART 1| PART 2

You jolted awake, a haze before your eyes, a siren whaling in your ears. Your throat leaves a groaning sound of pain as your eyes try to focus on something - anything at all if you will. Nothing seems to be in your reach, as you try to grab something as you work your way to stand, but falter and end up on the ground again. Your knees are like pudding and your fingers have no feeling to them. Your brain is pounding in your skull and you shakily exhale - letting the exhaustion get a grip on you again.

But this is not the beginning of this story. This is rather the end of it - if we would have followed a common structure.

And you weren't the one to tell either.

.

.

.

He has unusually taken form as a Berserker. Some factors of his summoning also caused all of his equipment to change and reversed his temperament. His expressions become cold, and the crimson demonic spear that is his Noble Phantasm has been mixed with darkness, overflowing with a foreboding aura.

.

.

.

Cú Chulainn Alter was your servant long enough by now to have a grasp on your behaviour - even though, you rather should have had a sight over his madness. After all, it seems like he is the one who has to have an eye on you most of the time. You have surrounded yourself with some of the most absurd servants, he could have imagined. Mostly because they are so engulfed in their own worlds - and their ideals - that it sickens him to even watch them. You always look a bit exhausted, but even if asked (by one of the few kind souls your summons have answered), you just dismiss the call by ignoring them or just saying that your mana was drained. But this was not the case at all. Your resources of mana were hilariously huge and no one really needed that much energy to sustain themself. 

The mad king was by your side - like most of the time (probably because he was your go-to servant). His crimson eyes follow your every move. You've pulled out your phone and texted someone. The profile picture was the same as the days before and he had concluded, that you have been texting with someone - very regularly and mostly frantic, jabbing texts into your phone like a maniac. But this time, your moves were a lot more controlled as you let your phone fall. He did not bother trying to catch it and watched as the screen broke, diagonally through the middle. 

Your message cannot be delivered. You have been blocked by this number. 

.

.

You were chugging your who-knows-how many shots, in some derelict bar you'd found on the way to who-knows-where. The berserker was still next to you - in a tight-fitting black suit he got a while ago. Most of his more macabre features had vanished - mostly his tail, which would hinder him from following you. But the crimson tattoos were still under his eyes and on his arms, as he rolled up his sleeves. His muscular features got rid of most of the crazy humans that were trying to hit on you in your current state of drunken daze - and those who even dared to walk in your direction went away faster than a flash after he snarled his canines towards them.

You have had enough of being betrayed by the ones you liked, your allies. You felt like a wounded animal, but instead of licking your wound, you turned towards the things, you yearned for most of your life after pain was inflicted onto you - the rush of alcohol, the numbness of everything and the happiness that comes with a little help of a line or two. 

A happy grin was stretched wide over your face as you took another shot, but as you pointed at your empty shot glass, the barkeep just shook his head, denying you your next drink. A snort of annoyance escaped you. You turn on your heel, the world twisting a bit too much as you walk straight to the door - or what you thought of as a straight line - your servant (of course) right behind you, following your every step.

The engine of the sports car roared as you speeded down the street, not really caring about the thought that you could cause an accident or die while driving in this state. The berserker next to you also seems to not give a single fuck about the way you drove the streamlined car. After a short while of driving you found the next best thing - a high-society nightclub, you have visited maybe once or twice in your life. You passed by the line of peasants and right into the club - the bodyguard just watched you puzzled as he was pushed aside by the mad king, who followed you into the club. The club was busted with people, dancing skin-on-skin and some sketchy guy was passing on little sachets in exchange for fat roles of cash.  You walk towards the bartender, pointing out a bottle of absinthe and try your best to negotiate a price, but in the end, you just paid a whole bunch more than you could imagine. Take a sip from the high-percentage alcohol, letting it burn down your throat as you walk to the sketchy guy, offering him a bundle of cash. The man slowly fumbled in his jacket: "Babe, if you go on, you might pass out in a drain pipe", he mumbled, taking the cash in exchange for the little bag, while you just grinned, taking another big sip.

"Oh yeah, don't threaten me with a good time"

The mad king was very much not amused as you stumbled out of your car, into the bar and basically threw your money at the barkeep as you took the booze. You were high and drunk - and you still wanted more, it seems like this, as you were taking a strange bag from this peasant. He snorts in annoyance. What were you thinking? The absinthe in your hand and the drugs, in the neckline of your dress, are hidden from sight as you walk into a corner of the club, scaring away the people that sat and letting yourself fall onto the couch as your servant took his place next to you. He was very unpleased with your behaviour. But alas, he could not change your mind right now as you start to chug down the burning liquor. You cross your legs, one hanging in the air as your eyes cloud even more, getting dull by the minute as you put down the booze. An exhausted sigh leaves your mouth as he inhales your liquor-stained breath. It was really disgusting. You slowly close your eyes, exhaustion seems to take over your body and he is ready to get you back home. His eyes wander over the crowd, but stop as he hears the sound of you opening the little bag and inhaling it content before taking another big sip. The crimson of his eyes was on you as you stood up, headed toward the dance floor.

You were thrown out of the club again - not really sure why - as you stumbled towards your car, opening the side of the driver, falling halfway in, as you thought you'd throw up into your own lap, but pulled yourself together as you watched Cú Chulainn get into the passenger seat, still smooth and with a stoic, calm face, watching you pull out of the parking lot and onto the empty street. You drove like a mad lad through the streets and stopped at a gas station after you noticed the low of your tank. You grabbed the fuel faucet and started to pump gas, after missing the tank the first time (you really wanted to throw up at the smell of gasoline on your dress, but you didn't). But you got it after some trying - much to the displeasure of the man behind the counter. He yelled at you, something about wasting precious resources but he was silent after you smacked some hundred dollar bills onto the counter and left, the clacking sound of your small heels followed you as you sat back into the car. Your eyes wander towards your servant - or were there two of them? Since when did you have two Cú Chulainns in your front seat? "Ah, fuck it", your voice sounded strange to yourself, a troubled mumble while you start the car - starting off with too much speed, making the car jump forwards before you got to the right speed. Your fingers just loose over the steering wheel, letting it slip from your grip as you drift off the empty road. Luckily for you, you were out of town and Alter pulled the wheel straight, grunting slightly. You're letting fully go off the steering wheel as you push the gas pedal down to the ground. Your servant seems a bit in distress or confused as he steers the wheel to drive. You start laughing - you never thought he would do that (you really believed, he would have let you drive into your death, but to be honest with yourself, you forgot he was her for a while). After some time, your laughter died off and as you arrived in the new city you let go of the gas pedal, bringing the car to an unpleasant halt as it died off, stuttering and in the middle of the road.

Cù Chulainn Alter was kinda exhausted as he was technically forced to drive for you at this high speed until you just - stopped. He was confused as to why you suddenly were so eager to get out of the car but followed you after turning off the car and taking the key (just in case). You've stumbled towards a guy in a chiffon skirt, muttering some words of exchange, he could not hear as he stepped up, being next to you again, as you started to empty a beer bottle. He would have been impressed with the speed you tried to do it, but it took not too long, before you nearly suffocated yourself, as the beverage poured all over your chest as you tried to breathe for a short while. The stranger smiled wide as he handed you a pair of hot pink high heels. You on the other hand were not that happy as you slipped off your original shoes and put on the heels. You were a bit wobbly at first, trying not to fall, as you started laughing with the stranger, leaving the mad king very confused, you turned around and waved your goodbyes, walking away wobbly, trying not to break your ankles while walking. Still laughing, you started twirling. It was probably far past midnight and it was way too cold, even though it was summer, the nights were still freezing. And you only got a dress on. Cú Chulainn sighted, as he changed into his ordinary outfit - seemingly out of nowhere his armour was back in place, the big fur coat hung in bright crimson red over his shoulders and his tail slowly swung from the right to the left. Glancing over at you he clicked his tongue as he threw his coat over you. You stumbled and nearly tipped over from the sudden weight added to your small frame, as you threw the coat off your shoulders. 

A grunt escaped you, captured by surprise as Alter threw his coat over you, leading you to stumble and nearly fall over with the heels. You tossed the coat back to your servant, grunting in annoyance. "Leave me the fuck alone", you hissed. Stomping away, your servant still on your heel. Your mind was misted by the rush of the alcohol and the drugs you took. Gripping harder onto the bottle of beer you still got from the stranger. You've had enough of the play of sympathy and fake affection people try to throw in your direction to lure you in. Only to break you and throw you away, after they got tired of you. "I said fuck off!", you yelled, throwing the bottle at the berserker, who dodged it smoothly. "If I would 'fuck off' you would die", he said - probably the first words he said the whole night. "And if so. I don't fucking care, okay? Just - just let me die then", you hissed, ending in an exhausting sight, turning your back to the servant, starting to move forward again. Tears started to pool in your eyes as you slowly dragged one foot in front of the other. Slightly sniffing as you wipe away the wetness of your eyes. "As if anybody would care", you mumble. Clearly, your up was over and you've hit rock bottom - or it feels like this as you keep walking, ignoring the servant behind you. 

After a while, you found yourself back in another bar, but it was not too long and the barkeeper told you they would soon close. After a short discussion, you've got a bottle of booze to take with you as you left the bar behind you. Again stumbling through the streets of a strange city you didn't know. You were exhausted and really just wanted to lay down, or sit down or something like that...  Another big sip emptied the bottle in your hand. You shook the bottle, disappointed from the sudden loss of your last joy as your eyes started to wander over the place. No one was there. No one. Not even your servant. Strange. He really just went away after all. He probably was tired of taking care of such a useless master, who could not even take proper care of herself and turned to drugs and alcohol to wash away the problems that towered over her. A sad sight escaped your mouth as you turned to walk again, but you stopped.

"Take a seat, master"

The berserker stood next to a shopping cart, the chain that normally holds the carts together was ripped apart. His huge coat laid out in the cart as his crimson eyes wandered over your sad figure. You were not moving, just holding back miserable tears. He stepped into action, picking you up and laying you down into the cart, carefully warping the crimson coat over your shivering figure. Your eyes were matt and dull, exhausted from the small bit of world you've got to see. But that small part of the world was not really kind towards you and it just ate you up and spat you out again. He pitied you, as your eyes moved to hover over his huge frame, which seemingly took over your whole vision. 

"The world is no kind place for such a soul as yours.

 But no worry, master. 

My spear will never fail you."

[frau-rainyfox]

DAY 4: FAVORITE MOMENT!

May others forgive me, but my Top 4 is purely Charlesse Series.

I was still able to more or less form the top 5, but it will be difficult for me further because there is no clear numbering.

So, top.. some episodes that I love and that I like (I’ll probably rank like this)

Number 1: Impawster Syndrome (S4E9)

Number 2: The Rex Files (S1E13)

Number 3: Blind Justice (S2E3)

Number 4: School Daze (S1E4)

Number 5: One For The Road (S5E20)

Number 6: The Miranda Act (S5E13)

Number 7: Murder, She Thought (S1E6) (Let's go, Aunt Miranda)

Number 8: Punch Drunk Glove (S5E2) (Hello, Jack Hudson)

Number 9: Dan Of The Snakes (S5E6)

Number 10: Art Of Darkness (S1E10)

Number 11: Secret Life Of Levi (S3E14)

Number 12: In Pod We Trust (S2E13)

Number 13: Sudden Death (S4E8)

Number 14: Rexpect Witnesses (S5E9)

Number 15: Bury The Lead (S5E8) (Happy Birthday, Jesse!)

Number 16: Roll The Bones (S4E14)

Number 17: Nightmare On Water. St. (S4E15)

Number 18: The Pet Sitter (S1E5)

Number 19: Fast Eddie's Show (S1E8)

Number 20: A Man Of Consequence (S2E1)

[frostbite-yinny]

hey. top 3 funniest things that happened at the shelter? 👀

Well hello there fellow equally-as-sick-of-serving-customers person, thanks for the ask and I hope your definition of funny is someone being miserable cuz I love telling these stories when I'm near blackout drunk :D I'm gonna try to keep this short (I failed.)

Number 3; The time when a herding yamper herded a whole herd of herd Pokemon inside the fucking shelter!

> It's a beautiful night, where I have not lost to the temptations of the internet and am actually sleeping for once.

I woke up to a phone call, a newbie trainee that only says 'I fucked up. I fucked big time.' so what do I do? Of course I haul my ass there as fast as possible.

There, I see a VERY proud old yamper, asking for treats. And the inside of the shelter, filled with VERY confused mareep, wooloo, Taurus, and many more heard animals.

Yeah. I didn't got any sleep that night.

Number 2; The time I got decked out by a kangaskhan joey!

> A little info since it seems like it's not common knowledge: kangaskhan don't hatch out of the egg with a baby in their pouch. They hatch as the blue baby. The Pokemon Kangaskhan is one of the few Pokemon that change while growing up without evolving. They are herd animals and they take care of every joey instead of just their own. If a baby kangaskhan has a smaller baby in their pouch, it's probably belongs to someone else and it's babysitting till the mother comes back.

Now back to the story. It's my vacation day so I'm just chilling at home. My liepard sleeping and purring on my lap as I'm watching some cartoons (don't judge me) and eating a fruit salad drizzled in honey. Then, I get a call from some volunteers asking me to come because a baby kangaskhan just hatched and it doesn't look right.

Well, now my fruit salad is left to my Pokemon as I go to the shelter. Hoping it's just a shiny instead of disfigurement. I made my way there and there is absolutely nothing wrong with the baby, they just didn't know that's how kangaskhan looked freshly hatched. Well, I can't get angry at a bunch of teenagers for not knowing shit.

Something you need to know about baby kangaskhan is they don't handle being alone/not being in a pouch very well, especially when they are REALLY young. It triggers their fight-or-flight instinct. But, well, it just hatched moments ago so I'm not worried as I pull out the mock pouch from the closet.

Well, I SHOULD have been worried because the moment I crouched down next to it, the joey decked me in the face.

I don't remember much of the moment since I was dazed and laying on the ground. I just remember someone screaming, my froslass freaking out, and even more yelling from the baby kangaskhan cuz it was panicking with all the chaos around.

So, yeah, the rest of the 4 days she spent in the shelter before we could send her to an another shelter that had an adult without a baby, she didn't leave my side. I had to bring her home and I couldn't even remove my apron with the mock pouch attached to it cuz she would get really sad and give me big wet baby eyes until I picked her up again.

So lucky she had an easy time parting with me when we introduced her to an adult lol

Number 1; the time I ACTUALLY got to punch a customer!

>This is my favorite ^w^

As always, the story starts with me being called in by an inexperienced employee while I'm on my lunch break and he nervously says they have a customer problem. Well, that's what managers are for so I abandon my lunch to my Sceptile and get back to the shelter.

I go in and the first thing I notice is the smell of alcohol in the air. That's never a good sign. I hear some commotion near the nursery (we have 2, one for eggs/newly hatched Pokemon and one for baby Pokemon) with the eggs/newly hatched Pokemon in. That nursery that is looked over by Undertaker the Chandelure (who I mentioned before)

I walk there with my Sceptile, and lo and behold, a grown-ass man is throwing a tantrum. I mean the kind that where they hit the walls and screech on top of their lungs kinda shit. A teenage girl which just started volunteering 2 days ago is sobbing near the door.

The other volunteer fills me up on the situation as I checked up on the teenager. Apparently, he was angry that we didn't let him adopt Undertaker the Chandelure who is an employee that stays full-time. I calm the girl down and send her away then turn to the man.

I try to calm him down and tell him that if he doesn't calm down we are going to have to escort him out of here which is just a kinder way of saying we are gonna kick him out.

He doesn't calm down, at all. Hell, me saying he needs to calm down just makes him angrier so like a responsible and sensible adult, he punches the nursery window and that starts a ruckus inside, and send the poor Undertaker darting left and right, trying to calm the newborns down.

So, right now I'm dealing with an immature 50-year-old drunk man that has the personality of an entitled toddler. Then, the cherry on top; he tries to grab me.

So, with both the cameras and witnesses on my side, I punch him down <3 Sure, fight or flight kicked in but I didn't even get a ticket for attacking someone so that's good <3

After that my Sceptile pins him to the ground, the cops are called, etc. Etc. But the best part is I got to punch down a customer so focus on that I put years of frustrating customer service into that right hook <3 <3 <3 was that a bad example to the other? Yes. Could I have handled it better? Yes but I didn't ^w^

Thanks for the ask again! This was so fun to tell :D

[crushsblogstories]

★Prompts - Fluff★

I only write reader x male (Maybe NB) characters but the reader can be any gender!

|| ‘Italics’ - ‘Thoughts’ || Bold - Loud || ____ - Name ||

PLEASE NOTE: I used ‘she’ and ‘he’ pronouns but when requesting you can change them!

Please keep in mind I am a girl so my male analogies may not be the best!

Please give credit if you use these!

#1: “MMMMMUAH.” He smushed his face into mine giving me a big, overly-long kiss on my cheek. “____!” I laughed.

#2: “Can we cuddle?”

#3: “I’ll grant you (Number) wishes since that’s what you officially are! Happy birthday!”

#4: “You were too broke to buy anything huh?” “I was too broke to buy anything...”

#5: “Are you jealous?” I asked, “No…” He replied. I shifed my weight to one leg and put my hand on my hip. “Maybe…” He said.

#6: “Do you love me?” “Wow. You really are dumb... Of course you big dummy!”

#7: “He’s so perfect.” I said to ____ (<---not love interest).

#8: “She’s so perfect” ____ (<---Love interest) said to ____(<---not love interest).

#9: I walked through the airport lugging around my suitcases and bags looking for ____.

#10: “____!” I ran to him as fast as I could and jumped into his arms as he caught me.

#11: “____!” I ran to him as fast as I could and jumped into his arms causing both of us to topple over

#12: “You’re hot as fuck.” (<--- Out of nowhere)

#13: “Hey” “Hi.” “Hi.”(dazed manner) “Did you need something?..” “Oh! Um. Right!”

#14: “Can we stay like this forever?” “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

#15: “You’re so cute.”

#16: “Oh yes my dear princess, I do apologise.” He said as he got down on one knee and kissed my hand. (<--- Suggested for modern)

#17: “I want to dance with you right now.”

#18: “Pinky promise?” ____ laughs, “Yes my love. Pinky promise.”

#19: “You’re prettyyyy” “Are you drunk?” “Maybeeee?..” 

#20: “If forever falls apart, I’m glad I get to spend my last forevers with you.”

#21: “Boo!” “AHHHH” “...” “Oh fuck you” “HAHAHA!”

#22: “We’ll be together forever.”

#23: “You know I love you” He said, on both of his knees whilst he wrapped his arms around my torso and buried his head in my stomach. “Yeah, yeah” I replied.

#24: “Don’t let go.” “Never in a million years.”

#25: “I’d wait for you even if you didn’t ask me to.”

#26: “There are over 6,500 languages the world uses today, and if I could, I’d tell you I love you in all of them.”

#27: “You’re gorgeous.” “And?..” “And smart, and independent, and smart, and amazing.” "You said smart twice." "That's why you're smart"

#28: “Even in death.”

#29: “Kiss me.” I whispered.

#30: “I’d give you the sun if you asked me. You could have all of the time. You could have the stars and the trees. When dividing up the universe — you could have mine.” (Song ref)

[j's lullaby Song by Delaney Bailey]

#31: And there we layed, watching the sitting stars in a field of flowing grass.

#32: “When I say fuck you I mean I love you. So, fuck you.”

#33: “Roses are red, Violets are blue, I’m bad at rhymes, but I want to go out with you”

#34: (____’s POV) I heard her humming softly as she studied.

#35: “Am I dumb?” “Yes.” “…” “But you're my dumb.” *Smiles thinking it made sense*