#well it's only 1 stop so i have to take a bus to get to there but it takes like half an hour

[mycological-mariner]

“Nobody told me I’d be seeing UV breasts when I signed up for this shift” — sentences I didn’t think I’d be saying yet here we are

[roaringroa]

so grateful that i managed to restrain myself from properly falling in love with my friend and contained my feelings to a common crush

[ladymortimer]

this is so not my week not so my anything this has been going on for 2 weeks when shall the Lord be merciful upon my soul again

[runa-falls]

my turn

part 1 | part 2

pairing: marc spector x reader (a bit of steven grant x reader)

summary: marc has had enough of watching you take advantage of steven and not him...

cw: smut (18+), voyeurism, masturbation, rough sex, dirty talk, degrading words, pining omg so much pining, angst, creampie, fluff?, ft. steven

wc: 3.4k

a/n: long time coming (cumming) -- i just realized i barely have marc fics so hopefully this holds up to expectations!

masterlist

----

You know Marc. But you wouldn't necessarily say that you're friends. And even if you were, you're definitely not 'friendly' with him the way you are with Steven.

If you were to ask him though, it wasn't for the lack of trying.

Since you've met Steven, Marc has merely been a shadow behind him, stopping in to check on Steven's personal life every so often before disappearing again.

What you aren't aware of, though, is that the only time he trifles in Steven's life is when he gets to see you.

Usually, Marc is uninterested in the daily life of his other half.

Steven wakes up, catches (or misses) the bus, gets to work, grabs some food on the way home, then calls it a day. It's a bland routine that Marc set up specifically to make sure that Steven is safe and sane. So, of course, when there's a change, Marc starts to pay attention.

Suddenly, out of the blue, you're everywhere.

A smile in the background of Steven's phone, a sticky note on the fridge reminding him to get more blueberries, and the oversized sweater you leave on the armchair one day that Steven steals whenever you're away.

He has no idea how you came into the picture, how he's never noticed you, or how Steven of all people captured your attention.

All he knows is that Steven is fumbling. Hard.

Marc had no idea what the nature of your relationship was until he had a front row ticket to one of your friendly favors.

---

Steven isn't subtle about his feelings. Anytime he's exceptionally scared or excited, Marc is called forward by his subconscious mind just in case he's in danger.

Usually, Marc is forced to front when Steven is about to burn his flat down from his nth attempt at cooking, or when he nearly walks into a busy intersection because he has his nose stuck in a book. But he never expected this.

He knew you liked to baby Steven. Take care of him because he had no one else to turn to (except Gus of course), but he just assumed you were being friendly, a kind soul willing to take Steven under your wing.

Nothing could have prepared him for when he woke up to the sight of you on your knees in front of him. It's odd being in the back seat of his body while Steven is getting all of your attention. He can feel everything, from the way your soft lips brush so sweetly against his cock to the hot suction of your mouth, but there's something that's holding him back from taking what he wants.

He wants so badly to bury his hand in your hair and push you down onto him until you're making a mess of yourself, eyes welling with pretty tears and drool dripping down your chin. He needs to tell you what a good girl you're being for him, so desperate for his cock in your throat. He wants to pick you up and carry you over to the bed to show you just how beautiful you are.

He wants you to look up and know it's him.

But he can't. Because who knows when this development started.

You acted platonically just the other day, and now, you're begging for Steven to cum on your tits.

What are you to each other?

If interferes now and messes this up for Steven, you might leave their lives altogether. Damn, how have you lured him into your clutches without even talking to him?

For all he knows, it could be a one-off thing...

---

It's decidedly not a one-off thing.

Marc has barely had the chance to front since the first time you made a move on Steven. You're always coming over, whether it's a spontaneous movie night or an offer to cook Steven some dinner, you always find a way to slither your way back into his bed. Not that Steven minds.

But Marc does.

With each fumbling move that Steven makes, Marc gets pushed closer to the edge. He could do it so much better. Make it clear that you're wanted. Give you the pleasure you deserve.

He cringes inside with every wary arm that gets thrown over your shoulder during a movie (one of Steven's signature moves to get you to cuddle -- somehow it works, every time). With the messy, unpracticed kisses that Steven haphazardly presses against your sweet lips.

He physically holds himself back from taking control of the body whenever you fall asleep in Steven's arms. He wants to hold you, feel your body molded against his, even if you have no idea it's him.

It's painful watching the two of you walk circles around the truth.

"I'm always thinking about you." Just tell her that you like her, you idiot! What is there to be afraid of? She looks at you like you painted the stars and hung the moon!

At this point, he doesn't even know why he tries.

Whenever you're around, Steven has total tunnel vision. He practically follows you around like some lost puppy. He lets sweet words spill from his lips without even thinking first and you lap up any type of affection he'll give you.

It's a vicious cycle of obliviousness.

Steven is a lost cause. But he isn't.

He can't take it anymore. He can't take waking up with a lingering taste of you on his tongue, or seeing your lovesick smile directed at someone else. He can't take the way you treat him like a stranger, like someone to avoid.

He wants you. So he's going to show you.

---

It's been a long day.

Marc's been out, jumping on top of roofs and kicking ass, all while Steven's 'sweetheart' blows up his phone.

Marc narrows his eyes, shuffling through all the smiley faces and hearts that litter your messages (and the thumbs up messages from Steven).

This book made me think of you <3

A cute little picture of you holding a book next to your face stares back at him, painting his face in a soft glow as he stands in the darkness of the night. He wants to crush the device in his hand.

Call me when you get home safe :)

You know exactly where Marc is right now, and what his life consists of, but you always avoid talking about him directly. You're always just waiting for Steven to come home so he can sleepily tell you he's back in bed and give you the green light to come over and snuggle your face into his chest.

Marc likes to think that he makes measured decisions, but what he does next is completely out of character:

Come over.

---

He's a little impatient, sitting on his worn couch as he waits for you to show up. You said you'd be 20 minutes, but it's been 30 since he texted you.

Sory thought the cookies would be done earlier! I'm otw now!

Your hastily typed out text blinks up from the forgotten phone that lies next to him. He read the sheepish reply when you sent it, but didn't bother to text back because of course you baked cookies for Steven.

He's starting to regret tricking you over. All he can think about is the inevitable rejection he'll get once you realize he's not Steven.

Marc leans back against the collection of overstuffed pillows and (your) gifted squish-mallows that decorate the couch, not caring that he's taking up as much space as possible. Flashes of your time with Steven override his doubts, reminding him of the softness that only you can provide.

He doesn't even realize he's unbuttoning his pants until his hand slips himself out of his briefs. Fuck, he's already so hard just thinking about you.

He doesn't want to get himself too worked up so he attempts to take it slow, stroking and squeezing himself until he's teetering at the edge, pretending that it's your hand instead of his. He quickly gets lost in the feeling, floating in a euphoric dream of you and your touch. It isn't until he hears the door click open that he returns to reality.

You're here. The thought alone nearly makes him spill over himself.

"Steven!"

-- And he's good.

"I'm here--oof," He hears you run into a kitchen stool, "why is it so dark in here?"

He should shove himself back into his pants and greet you like a normal human being, but some sick thing inside of him wants you to see what you do to him.

You place a container of freshly baked cookies on the counter with a smile, satisfied with your work and excited to see him try one. You've been working on a new vegan snickerdoodle recipe just for him.

A sweet treat for your sweet treat. You nearly giggle at your thoughts.

You take a second to smooth down any wrinkles on your dress, desperate to look nice for him. Steven has no idea how obsessed with him you are. You want him all the time. You're constantly craving to coax out soft whines and stutters from your favorite boy.

You look around the dim flat.

Where the hell is he?

Usually you'd find him in front of his makeshift desk, sprawling through various books under a harsh lamp, but tonight his spot is empty.

A soft grunt guides you to the couch, your usual movie night spot. No way he's starting without you.

"Ah, there you are." You're slightly put out that he doesn't move to greet you, but maybe Marc's mission just took a particularly harsh toll on his body.

It's only when you're standing at the side of the couch that he meets your eyes. And you meet his...hard cock, desperately throbbing in his hand. What a sight. Your eyes nearly glaze over at the sight of his mussed hair and laid back positioning.

He just looks up at you, casually. He's been expecting you. He wants you to watch him. It makes it that much more delicious.

He doesn't shy back at your presence. If anything, he sits up to give you a better view. His hand moves methodically -- controlled, stroking himself from tip to base as his half-lidded eyes stare straight back at you.

His dark look and posture nearly make him unrecognizable. It's not just the clothes he's wearing, or the 5 o'clock shadow, but the way he furrows his eyebrows and grips himself so confidently, like he does it all the time.

You shake off the odd feeling settling in your stomach and move over to him with the practiced grace that usually makes him weak in the knees for you.

"Mm...Steven...you're quite needy right now, aren't you?"

He raises a dark eyebrow, briefly squeezing himself in his hand as he unabashedly takes in your figure, draped in a soft dress. He's not backing down like you're used to. At this point, he's supposed to be begging for you to touch him, not staring you down like you're a piece of meat.

"M'not Steven, sweetheart." His voice makes you freeze in front of him and all of the confidence you once held rushes out of your body.

"M-marc?"

A cynical smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"You remember me?"

You capture your bottom lip into your mouth, holding yourself back from crawling on top of him and skipping the conversation. The dark and intense version of your lover is serving himself up on a silver platter, and all you can do is watch.

"Why wouldn't I?" He shrugs.

You can tell he's enjoying this, watching you squirm uncomfortably as he teases himself right in front of you. He touches himself like it's an afterthought, something to simply accompany the sight of you.

"W-where's Steven? I was supposed to meet him here..."

"I'm the one who texted you."

You freeze, not knowing what to do.

He wants you here?

He wants you?

"You...?"

"Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna be a good girl for me like you are with Steven?"

What would Steven think?

"I-I don't know..."

"C'mon, you're always dying to suck him off."

Your face flushes at his bluntness. Are you that obvious?

A hand comes up to hold you by the waist before you're pulled closer to him. He looks up at you, eye-level with your chest, looking as predatory as ever, despite his position under you.

"What's the difference, hm?" He slides a warm hand under the hem of your dress, gently caressing the bare skin of your outer thigh. "It's the same body on top of you. The same cock stretching you out..." You shiver when you feel his fingers tease the edge of your panties, the deep red lace you picked out specially for Steven. "...even the same cum filling you up."

You look down, mesmerized by the way his hand moves under the thin fabric of your dress. You watch his shrouded arm pull at the fabric until it barely brushes at your upper thigh as his hand slides up over the softness of your stomach and the dips of your ribs, before stopping at the curve of your breast.

"You want this."

It's not a question, it's a statement. And he's right.

He watches your eyes flutter close as he cups you in his hand. Despite the heat in his eyes, he handles you so softly. Like you're a porcelain doll in his hands. It's a familiar touch, but there's a hint of something more.

"Steven..." You breathe out. It's said out of habit. This feeling inside of you has only been associated with one person. It's always been him. But now, a whole other side of yourself is opening up.

You quickly realize your mistake when his grip tightens around your waist and on your breast, demanding your attention.

"No." His voice is low, "Not him."

"M-marc."

He hums and rewards you with a teasing flick of his thumb over your nipple. You're disappointed when his touch suddenly leaves you, but before you can complain, he begins to work his pants all the way off.

"Don't worry about him, sweetheart." He pulls you close enough that you nearly fall over him, causing you to straddle his lap and sit chest-to-chest. "Tonight's about us." The skirt of your dress falls around your thighs, shielding the way his length presses against your inner thigh.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, flustered by the feeling of his hot body against yours, at the idea that this is really happening.

You breathe in once. Is that..?

And then, once again.

He smells like him.

"You good, baby?" He rubs over the tops of your thighs comfortingly while subtly shoving your skirt up to your waist.

"Mhm..." You hum against his skin, relishing in the feeling of his embrace. You experimentally push your hips against his, grinding your needy center against his. He groans at the contact and cants his hips upwards, forcing you to feel just how hard he is.

Your cunt pulses in desperation as he continues to rut against your clothed clit. You're nearly soaking through your underwear with how wet you are. And by the way he groans against you, he can tell.

An eager hand shoves between your bodies to shove your panties to the side. "Need to feel you." He drags a finger against you, spreading your slick until it runs down the palm of his hand. "Fuck. You're so ready for me."

"P-please." It's a hushed whisper against his shoulder, but he hears it loud and clear.

"Please, what?" He pushes you back, forcing you to look at him as he lines himself up. Heat pricks at the tops of your cheeks before you cast your eyes downwards.

Is he really going to make you say it?

"M-marc." You whimper as he brushes the tip of his cock through the seam of your cunt, covering himself with your lust. He mouths at your neck, ignoring your pleas by keeping himself busy sucking bites and bruises into your skin. "Please, fuck me, Marc."

He barely gives you a second before he's pushing in with a single fluid motion. The feeling is indescribable. How can he share a body with Steven, but make this feel so different?

"So big..." You gasp out, thighs trembling around his.

"Taking me so well, baby. Just let me in."

He pushes up until you're filled to the brim, drawing out a broken moan from your lips. The stretch is exquisite in this position. You feel like you've never felt anyone as deeply as he is right now.

As soon as he's sure you're comfortable, he starts moving, grinding up against you until you're looping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. You're mewls fill the room as his cock drags perfectly against your slick walls. You arch your back and start moving over him, desperate to feel him entirely.

He watches you bounce on his lap, timing his movements so his thrusts meet yours.

"Such a greedy slut aren't you?" His harsh words are punctuated with sharp thrusts, causing you to clench around him involuntarily. The sensation almost leaves him breathless, but he continues talking through gritted teeth. "You couldn't get enough from Steven, hm?"

His pants turn into rough grunts as he speeds up. He thrusting into you like he's taking revenge, like he's proving that he's the piece that's been missing from your life.

You shake your head, "Need b-both."

"Yeah, you do. Always so desperate to be filled by this cock." He holds you in place and begins to viciously thrust up into you.

"O-oh-!" He's hitting that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You can't help the way your mouth gapes at the toe curling sensation.

Everything around you quickly fades away and all you can see, hear, and feel is him. You can't even articulate anything when pure ecstasy blooms in your core and permeates throughout your body.

You seize in his hold as he continues to roll his hips against yours, feeling boneless from the pleasure that hums through every nerve. He groans at the flutter of your walls around him, gripping him so tight in your warmth. He can barely get out a handful of thrusts before he's spilling inside of you.

You're a mess on top of him, soaking his lap in a mixture of the two of you. Your hair sticks to your face and neck, but it doesn't matter when you can still feel him pulsing inside of you.

Your eyes flutter open as a gentle hand caresses your jaw and guides you to lean in.

You meet vulnerable eyes framed by dark lashes.

He takes a breath, like he's bracing for the worst, but he doesn't have the chance to let it go before you're pressing your lips against his.

---

You sleep like a rock. It's almost like no time has passed. Why dream when you have everything you want right in front of you?

Or behind you, that is.

You can already tell it's Steven with the way he nuzzles himself against the back of your neck. "G'mornin', darling." He's adorable with his roughened groggy voice.

"Hi, baby." He curls up at the pet name and holds you closer, already flustered before he has fully woken up. You can tell it takes him a few moments to blink the sleep away because suddenly he's stiff against you (and not in a good way).

"W-what. What happened?"

You sigh, "Marc happened."

"Did he hurt you? Oh my god," He pushes away to get a better view, "was he mauling your neck?!"

"Steven, it's fine." You feel your face warm up at the thought of the night before. "I...kinda liked it."

Steven huffs to himself as his thumb lightly brushes over a particularly obvious bruise on your neck, "He's trying to steal my girlfriend."

You nearly choke on yourself, "G-girlfriend?"

"Yes...? I mean, you are, right? Unless," Steven's eyes widen, "I-uh, didn't mean to assume--"

"No, Steven. I-I'd love to be your girlfriend."

[some-bunniii]

My Charming Red Savior [1]

・❥ You’re harassed by a man following you down the street. Luckily, a rather smiley demon swoops in and claims to be your husband.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

x: no use of y/n. i said this was going to be short and I lied, it’s about 6k words.

warnings: mild swearing

Warning! Battery at 1%! Device will power down in 3..

You stared down at the phone in your hands as the message lit up on the screen. Eyes widening, you quickly tapped the screen, trying to bypass the pop-up and get another glimpse at the digital map you were using. 

2…

“Hold on now! Just let me see where I'm going, please!” You begged the small device, your grip tightening around it as you tried to figure out what direction you needed to go. 

1..

You peered around the small pop-up. Okay.. Pete Ave was that way, which meant you needed to take a right after the stoplight and go-

Device powering down! Have a nice day :) 

“Damnit!” You growled as the screen flashed once, and then faded to black. You squeezed your eyes shut, face lifted to the sky as you took a deep breath to center yourself.

“Move it, won’t ya?” A demon woman chastised as she hurried around you. Lowering your head, you realized you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, your spot interrupting the flow of pedestrian traffic. Quickly, you backpedaled until your back hit a brick wall of a building. 

It was getting late in Pentagram City, and that meant you needed to hurry to get to your friend's place before the worst inhabitants of Hell came crawling out. 

She had just gotten married and moved into a rather quaint little home, and you were very happy for her. You had not seen it yet, just in pictures she had shown you on her phone and the one time you drove past it.

“Oh, pleaseeee won’t you come over tonight? I can’t wait to show you all the renovations we’ve done! It looks so much better since we bought it.” She had begged over the phone that afternoon. 

You had stood there, your nails clicking against the countertop in your kitchen as you thought. You had nothing important going on, just some light cleaning and shopping. What was the harm in going over there and visiting? 

“Okay, sure. Yeah, I can come over.” You finally spoke.

“Ahh! I’m so excited, we’ll have a big dinner and everything. I can even rent a movie for us to watch, what are you into again? Those sappy romance flicks?”

“Whatever you want to watch, it’s your milestone we’re celebrating. I’m not the one picking.” 

“Geez, you know how hard it is for me to decide things like that! But, i’ll do it. Oh! Before I forget, could you stop by the store on your way and get some Cajun seasoning? It’s for the meal!” 

“Of course. I’ll see you soon.” You had told her, before hanging up. Eyes moving to the clock, you realized you two hours before needing to arrive. Which meant you had to get moving on those dishes and errands. 

It didn’t take long before you were out the door. Wearing a nice outfit and new shoes, you strolled down the street. The digital map on your phone guiding you across the city as you moved.

Being so close to the city center, you didn’t have a personal vehicle. Instead, you took public transport all the way past the Entertainment District, your eyes gazing up at the rather tall VoxTek building as the bus sped by. 

You didn’t know much about the Vees, other than they were very powerful Overlords with a lot of influence in the media industry. In fact, you didn’t know much about Overlords at all. Were they nasty demons? They must be, if they bartered in souls.

But there had to be better ones, right? You knew of the cannibal, Rosie, and despite her, well.. dietary choices, she seemed to be a rather motherly and courteous demon. In such a way that the residents of Cannibal Town held very high regards for her, which proved her ability to lead in a just manner. She couldn’t be the only one with a more ethical moral code.

Your mind lingered on that train of thought, before you were pulled back into reality by the bus driver’s call for your stop. Quickly, you had hurried out of the vehicle, before continuing your directed path forward.

You arrived at the large storefront, a cozy cottage-like building that whispered of deliciousness as the scents of spices and other meal-making goods wafted through the open door. 

Taking a step inside, you quickly darted through the aisles, searching for the Cajun seasoning. What was your friend making tonight? You weren’t too familiar with these kinds of ingredients. Hopefully, it was going to be tasty.

When you found it, you turned it in your hands, inspecting the product. Yep, you’ve never seen this before in your life. 

After paying for the item, you quickly departed. Your next destination set on your phone.. but not for long.

Just a few more blocks, and you’d have been welcomed by the two love-birds with open arms. A nice, hot meal and a good movie to finish the night. 

Except, how were you supposed to get there now?!

Your phone was useless, and the digital displays around you showed nothing but advertisements and the latest news. 

Frantically, you looked around for any familiar landmarks, hoping to rely on your memory to guide you. But the streets of Pentagram City, with their twisting alleys and repetitive buildings, all looked eerily similar in the dimming red light of dusk.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you tried to recall the route from memory. Pete Avenue, right after the stoplight, then… was it a left or a right at the next intersection? You berated yourself for not doing a better job at memorizing the way before you left.

Turning, you raised a fist at the VoxTek HQ building, cursing them for your suffering. Stupid technology and their shitty battery life.

Slowly, you started walking again. Past the neon signs beckoning you to take a glance at what they had to offer, past the girls on the corner who were calling out to you to come have a ‘good time’.

Sometimes, you wished you had someone else to lend a hand at times like these. But, your heart and your home were unimaginably lonely when it came to a romantic partner. It was something that others around you couldn’t stop pestering you about.

“You really need to get out more,” another friend of yours had said one day, while you two dined at a cafe, “there’s this new dating app, called ‘Ozzie’s Love Link’. Everybody is buzzing about it. You should totally give it a whirl!” 

You had rolled your eyes at her suggestion, a dating app? Those things were practically a fraud. The demons on there either wanted sex, or their idea of a relationship was twisted and foul. You even had heard stories of people playing into sick traps of the perfect first meet, only to be murdered and left in an alley to rot.

“I want something real, not some.. temporary escape. Have you ever met anyone that’s actually found ‘The One’ through one of those things? And, who knows, maybe the demon of my dreams will just walk right into me one day.” 

She had laughed at your words, holding a hand to her mouth to contain her giggles.

“Oh, you. You’re still hanging on to those silly stories of a Prince Charming, hm? C’mon now, this is the real world. Nobody is going to swoop in and save you, and then fall hopelessly in love with you. That's a fairy tale. You need to put in the effort.”

You shrugged. Maybe, she was right. Maybe, those stories you had digested were just fairy tales, meant to enrapture you with promises of the perfect life. You were in Hell, after all.

‘She just doesn’t understand,’ you reminded yourself, ‘all her relationships have been toxic. She doesn’t know any better.’

You weren’t going to let her judgments get to you, you could live your life however you wanted, with whatever dreams you chose.

As you walked down the bustling streets, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. It was as if unseen eyes followed your every move, sending shivers down your spine. 

‘Stop freaking out,’ you told yourself, ‘it’s just your imagination, there’s people all around you. They have their own lives, they’re not watching you.’

Nearing the curb to an intersection, you glanced up at the street sign. Pete Avenue, finally. Now, think. Left? 

Looking left, you peer down the rows of strip clubs and bars. The crowds only got bigger from there, and there seemed to be no residential streets. You turned your head to the right, and it began to branch out into more domesticated buildings and neighborhoods. The farther your gaze traveled, the quieter the sidewalks became.

So, right it is. 

You turned the corner of the block and kept moving, your pace quickening as you checked a large digital clock on the side of a building. It was getting closer to the time you had promised to be there.

But, now where were you supposed to go? You turned your head, until your gaze landed on a small imp standing near an alley, a cigarette between his lips. 

Walking forward, you raised your hand up in greeting. “Excuse me, do you know where Magdalene Drive is, by any chance? I’ve just gotten a little turned around and would greatly appreciate some guidance.” 

The imp regarded you for a moment, his eyes squinted in thought. He pulled the cigarette from his lips, and exhaled a large breath. A plume of gray smoke vented from his lips, and he coughed harshly.

“Yeah, I do. You see that big statue over there?” He pointed to your left, the cigarette hanging between his fingers.

Turning your head, you leaned slightly backwards. Off in the distance, a large marble statue depicting an unknown owl demon practically glowed against the darker backdrop. It seemed to hold resemblance to an Ars Goetia family member, but you couldn’t put a finger on who. 

“Right when you pass it, take a left. Go two blocks straight, then take another left. One more block, and another right, and you’re on Magdalene Drive.” 

Jeez, that was a lot of directions thrown at you in one sitting. Not wanting to pester the man any further, you waved a thanks and walked away.

How far have you come, exactly? You turned your head behind you, looking down the sidewalk of where you had just come from. Something flickered in your peripheral vision, a dark figure skirting from your gaze. Was someone watching you? 

You shook your head. No, it’s just your imagination. Keep moving.

Slowly, you turned back and started walking. The sidewalks were practically empty now, the glow from the street lamps above you illuminating your path as you strolled up the large statue. 

Twisting your head to get a better look at it, your gaze skimmed across the royal figure. The owl-demon was staring up at the sky, one arm raised with what seemed to be a ball of energy in his grasp. Swirls of gold marble laced the pearly white sphere. He was holding up, like it was an offering to Heaven. 

Maybe, you’d come back later and take a look at the plaque below the statue. There had to be some significance, although you didn’t see yourself as a master of the fine-arts to te-

Crunch

What was that? That sounded like someone crushing a twig beneath their feet. You twisted to face behind you, and saw nothing once more. 

‘Alright, this is getting a little freaky.’

You weren’t going to stop now though, you didn’t want any potential onlookers seeing you stalking the perimeter like a weirdo simply because your paranoia was having you hallucinate things.

Keeping your pace, you took a sharp left on the corner and continued down. How many blocks did that guy say? Two, if you could recall correctly.

That’s how many blocks you traveled, before stopping in your tracks. Which way did he say to go? Right? Left? 

You rubbed your face with a hand, why did you suck so badly with directions?! If only you had charged your phone before you left, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. 

Turning your head, you tried to figure out which way could be the correct one. There was nothing, though. It didn’t remind you of anything you’d seen when you had driven past her house. 

“Hey, you lost?” A gravelly voice came from behind you. Eyes widened, you spun on your heel to face the stranger. He was tall, much taller than you. He sported scars running across his face, one eye half-lidded permanently from some kind of nasty wound. 

He sported a dark leather jacket, with a thin sweater underneath. His hoodie was up, masking most of his features like a shadow. His skin was a dark red, and his eyes were a pale yellow. He seemed to be a Succubus demon, being too large for an imp.

There was no kindness in his tone or in his smile. Your brain screamed danger, you needed to get away from him. Quickly, you shook your head, trying to give him a well-meaning smile. 

“No, i’m not! I’m just uhh- waiting for someone, they’ll be here soon anyway.” 

“People that aren’t lost usually don’t ask strangers on the street for directions,” he chuckled darkly, “why don’t you tell me where you’re trying to go? I can give you a lift.” 

As he closed in, you could smell the bitter taste of alcohol on his breath. You had to steel yourself not to recoil at his looming figure. Widening your smile, you attempted to not display any fear as he got closer.

“No, thank you. I would hate to bother you, my.. partner should be here soon, so you can continue on with your day!” 

“Don’t you know this place ain’t safe for sweet dolls like you to be roaming alone? C’mon, let me take you to where i’m parked, i’m sure you’ll enjoy my company.”

You quickly stepped backwards, trying to widen the distance from this creep. It wasn’t until your back hit the wall of an abandoned storefront, did you realize you were trapped. 

“I said no. I’m not some damsel in distress. Now, if you can excuse me, I need to keep going before it gets too late.” 

You turned away from him, trying to break any kind of contact with the demon. Maybe if you kept your cool, he’d abandon his little mission.

That was until you felt his hand snake around your wrist, his grip tightening and pulling you to face him. In your state of shock, you dropped the bag containing the Cajun seasoning. You tried to tug your wrist free, but his yellow nails were practically digging into your skin, preventing your escape.

“What’s the rush, Doll? Scared i’m gonna bite or something? Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna harm you. I just want to show you a good time.”

Your eyes narrowed, gaze heated at the stranger. You frowned, glimpsing at his hand on your wrist in disgust.

“What are you doing? I don’t want anything to do with you, now let go of m-!” 

“There you are, my dear!” A masculine voice exclaimed next to you. You felt the creep’s grip on your wrist loosen suddenly. His hand yanked away by another, and your gaze traced the light touch of unknown dark-red fingers gently taking your hand instead.

You snapped your head to the unfamiliar voice, taking in the sight of a second demon standing right besides you, a large grin on his face. He was tall, and he stood a little bit higher than the creep in front of you. His hair was styled in a cropped, angled bob, with an odd pinkish-red shade. Two small antlers protruded from the top of his head, and were those.. ears next to them too?

He was dressed rather formally, with a red pin-stripe coat adorned with a large black bow-tie. Over his right eye, you took note of the small oval-shaped monocle. He held a cane, with an odd looking end. The small oval in the center of it reminded you of an eye. He looked very dapper, like he was from a much older era. 

His gaze was soft, as he looked at you. It wasn’t until his eyes snapped to the stranger in front did they take on a cold, dark glare. That smile never faltered, though. 

Who was this guy? Why was he touching you? You felt the need to tear your hand from his grip as well.

Except, when he turned back to you, his eyes sent you a hidden message. Something like, ‘Go along with it, if you want to get rid of him.’

Seeing as you were stuck between two strange demons, with no idea what this new guy had in store for you, maybe it was a good idea to follow his silent command. Your hand went limp in his grip, and the deer demon raised it to his chest, patting it lovingly.

“Goodness, I leave for ten minutes to go pick up your favorite herbal tea and poof, gone! You are a slippery one, my sweet.” Static dripped from his voice, seemingly connected to the cane at his side. Was it some kind of microphone?

“Who are you?” The stalker questioned, backing up a step as he regarded the new face.

The red demon laughed, an audible ‘ha ha’, as if the creep just told a rather good joke. He extended his free hand in greeting, and the succubus only eyed the gesture with suspicion.

“The name is Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, sir, quite a pleasure. It’s rare for people these days to not recognize my face, although i’m sure it’ll become familiar soon enough.” 

That ‘soon enough’ sounded quite ominous to you. And, was he some kind of celebrity or something? You didn’t remember him from anywhere. 

“Well, do you mind? Me and the lady were in the middle of a conversation.” The succubus retorted, a slight growl in his tone. 

“The better question is, do you mind, my good sir! Here I am, searching for my dear wife, only to see you bothering her on the corner!” 

Wait a second, did this guy just call you his wife? You stood there, shocked, as you listened to the two bicker. Never would you think you’d hear that uttered from a man. 

“Not only that, but touching her without her consent? My word, what degenerate behavior!” The demon, Alastor, continued. He shook his head in disapproval, an audible tsk-tsk coming from his lips.

“There was no harm in it, we were only having some fun. Ain’t that right, Doll?” The stalker turned to you, fire in his gaze as if daring you to speak.

You shook your head, your gaze snapping to Alastor. He watched you for a moment, before turning his attention back to the succubus.

“It seems your mother neglected to instill in you even a modicum of respect. If my wife weren’t here to witness, I'd be more than obligated to educate you on proper decorum.”

Something flickered in the creep’s eyes, and for a moment he looked almost afraid. After a moment, He sneered, eyeing you up and down. "I don't see a ring on her finger."

Alastor smirked, and gently lifted your hand forward for the demon to get a look at. His grin was that of triumph, as though he was showcasing a prized possession. 

Your eyes widened at the sight, a gasp almost escaping your lips. On your finger, was a small gold ring. It was snuggled nicely around your digit, a perfect fit. 

The Succubus leaned in, and so did you. Where the hell did that come from? That was not there a few minutes ago! 

On closer inspection, you noticed something about the small band. Engraved in a tiny rose-gold font, was a single letter.

A.

"There, now do you see?" Alastor's grin widened, his demeanor playful yet menacing. His eyes narrowed, as he waited for the demon's response. You felt the air crackle with some kind of energy, it was dark and cold. The hair on the back of your neck began to stand on its end, like static. Which one of the demons was doing that?

The stalker’s expression shifted from arrogance to confusion, then to frustration. He furrowed his brow, studying the ring intently as if searching for some kind of flaw.

Was he going to try and argue? The proof was there, albeit fabricated. Alastor dropped your hand, and instead snaked his arm around yours, locking you in place. 

There was no argument didn’t, instead, the succubus took another step back. The demon straightened himself and shrugged, like the scene before him was not a bother, like his filthy plan wasn’t thwarted by the appearance of the powerful deer man. 

“Whatever, I ain’t got time for this anyway. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Lovebirds.”

As the man turned away, Alastor’s grin widened as he nodded his head. “Farewell, and may your endeavors be as futile as your manners!”

He turned to you, that dark look gone from his eyes as he gently tugged at your arm, still laced with his. “Now, my dear, shall we continue on our evening stroll?” 

You nodded slowly, and together, the two of you turned away from the creep and began to walk. You had only made it a few steps before you heard the soft knocking of Alastor’s staff hitting the cement walkway. What was he doing?

Behind you, a strangled cry filled the silence, before a loud thump hit your ears. You jolted at the sound, did something just happen? It sounded like someone got hurt! 

Right as you were about to turn your head to look at where the noises had emanated from, Alastor’s head snapped to you and you felt another gentle tug on your arm to turn your attention back to him.

You looked up at him, a smile forming on your lips as your nerves settled. “Thank you, for saving me, kind sir. I could have been a goner.” 

“It was no trouble at all my dear, and please, call me Alastor. I was simply in the neighborhood and couldn’t just stand by and let that rapscallion manhandle you like that! Now, where are we off to, if I might ask?” 

“Oh, well, Magdalene Drive! It’s a house right at the end of a street, my friend's place actually. She’s expecting me for dinner, that’s why I have this bag of…”

You became suddenly aware of the empty feeling in your hand. Did you forget to pick up the seasoning after you dropped it?! You groaned internally, your head hung in defeat. After all that, you didn’t have the one item you had taken this route to get. 

Alastor raised an eyebrow at your reaction, and you quickly explained, “I needed to get Cajun seasoning for the meal they are making, but I dropped it when that.. man was harassing me! I’m terribly sorry, I have to go back and get it.” 

Alastor only smiled, as usual, and shook his head. He waved his hand in a sweeping motion, brushing off your attempt to turn around.

“Nonsense! We don’t need to bother that poor soul any longer. Here, let me give you one from my personal collection!” 

He lifted his free hand, and snapped his fingers. In a flicker of green light, a small spice jar landed in his palm. Your eyes widened, an amused smile gracing your lips as you watched the little trick. That was pretty cool. Was that the same kind of magic he used to secretly place the ring on your finger? 

“Here you are! The best Cajun seasoning you can find in Pentagram City, my personal favorite. I was going to use it for something special, but it seems you are in need of it more than I.”

He lifted his hand toward you, and you took it gratefully. Lifting it to your nose, you inhaled deeply. It was an odd scent, one you couldn’t quite place, but it smelled quite delicious.

“Not many dishes require such flavoring, what is the meal you are having tonight?”

You shrugged, “I'm not really sure, to be honest. She didn’t say.” 

“Hm, a pity. Have you ever tried Jambalaya? It is a rather magnificent dish, my personal favorite actually! My mother was quite the cook, indeed, and her craft would never miss when producing such delicacies.”

“No, I've never tried it before. What does it taste like?”

“It is hard to put a description on it. It’s almost like.. fireworkings popping off in your mouth! Ha ha, that is a good way to put it. You really must try it sometime.” 

You smiled at Alastor as you listened to his words. Perhaps, you would.

“What got you into this pickle, anyway? Surely you didn’t actually feel like taking a stroll so late in the evening, hm?” He questioned as the two of you continued your pace, “a pretty face like yours will cause quite the stir amongst the filthy rats that like to inhabit this place.”

“Oh, well, I was using my phone for directions. It died on the way here, unfortunately I'm not familiar with this area and couldn’t find my way forward.”

His words finally processed in your brain. Did he just call you pretty? You didn’t get to think about that for much longer as his static-laced voice filled the air once more.

“Ah, of course. This new.. modern technology is nothing short of a fraud, if I do say. What ever happened to the old fashioned paper map? If it were up to me, we wouldn’t be so reliant on such faulty equipment.”

“Is that what your staff is? It looks like a microphone.” You said, pointing to the cane in his other hand.

Alastor glanced down to his cane, and then back to you. “Aha, a clever one indeed! Yes, my dear, I use it for my radio broadcasts!”

You perked at that. Radio? You had one of your own at home. Although it was quite dusty, you did occasionally turn it on to see what latest hits were circling around in the music industry.

“You do radio? That’s actually kind of interesting! Do you have a big audience?”

“Yes, indeed! Back when I was at my highest with it, I had many listeners. Unfortunately, my absence from Pentagram City has led to other forms taking the spotlight. I plan on rectifying that once I've settled in. Perhaps, you could listen in as well to see what I have to offer?”

You nodded at that, perhaps, you would listen in. He had a nice, pleasant voice. It felt like you could sit there for hours and just listen to him speak. Even if the words that came from his mouth was nothing but gibberish, you’d still let his voice drown out your thoughts.

“What about you?” The static dripping from his voice causes you to turn your head, “what do you do for a living?” 

“Oh, well, I work at a men’s formalwear store. So, like tuxedos, dress shirts, and all that jazz. I help assist with fittings and greet guests, basically the doorgirl. Nothing too important.” 

His ears perked slightly as he listened, and he turned his head to you. “Well, isn’t that interesting! Just recently, I had an awfully rude encounter with another demon, who had torn a piece of my suit. That slippery little serpent got away before I could.. question him about his antics.” 

“That’s awful! Who was it?” 

Alastor chuckled, rolling his eyes as he recalled the event. “Oh, nobody of importance, I assure you. Just some pretentious upstart fancying himself as an Overlord, with a knack for building rather ghastly creations of destruction. Since that encounter, I've been in the market for a fresh look. If a place of formal employs such splendid characters like you, I think it would be in my best interest to take a look in your establishment for a new coat”

Your eyes widened, he wanted to buy a new suit at your work because.. you were there? How charming.

Taking another glance at him, you realized he was rather good-looking. His red hair popped out against his much paler skin, it shined against the streetlights above. It looked rather silky and smooth, like you could comb them with your fingers and not find a single knot. 

And those ears? They were pretty cute, actually. They stuck up from his head, and every so often they would twitch or shrivel in the direction of sudden noises. They seemed so soft too, would they feel as good as they looked if you were to squish them between your fingers?

He was a well-mannered gentleman, a pretty rare specimen in Hell. Not only that, but he stepped in to defend you from that creep when he could have simply walked by. He didn’t, and that made your cheeks heat up. Especially with the fact he called you his wife, instead of something simpler like ‘friend’.

What about when he called you pretty? Did he actually mean that? You never regarded yourself as such, but if Alastor thought that, maybe you cou-

“Is this the house?” Alastor’s words pulled you back into reality. You blinked, before looking up at the pale blue cottage snuggled nicely between two large Victorian homes. The talks you were having must have kept you from noticing the large distance.

“Yes! This is the place!” You exclaimed happily, finally, you were here. You turned to him, before looking down at your arm, still laced with his. Slowly, you pulled your arm free. The cold that replaced his touch was unwelcomed. Which felt odd to you, why did you want him touching you still? 

You had only just met him, but perhaps his way of speaking and heroics swooned you enough to miss the warmth of his grasp. Lifting your head to meet his gaze, you tried to see what he was thinking behind that constant smile. 

His eyes were unreadable, but the cold stare he had given the succubus, and to the other onlookers that you had occasionally passed was missing as he looked at you. There seemed to be a smile in his eyes, one that was meaningful and true.

“Well, I'm glad I could assist you in finding your way home, my dear. I quite enjoyed our chat, it is refreshing to hear from a new face once in a while. Especially one as eloquent as yours.”

You had to keep yourself from visibly blushing. He really was a gentleman in all regards. You bowed your head respectfully, before meeting his gaze again.

“The only reason why I'm here is because of you, Alastor. Thank you, and I do hope to run into you in the future. Our conversation was very interesting, I'd love to hear more of it sometime.”

He tilted his head at you, as he regarded your words. “Indeed, perhaps we will. Maybe, the next time we cross paths, I can give you a glimpse into my mothers recipe of Jambalaya. I’m sure your friend would be interested in trying something new the next time you sit down for dinner.”

You smiled at him, before waving goodbye. Turning towards the door you lightly rapped your knuckles against its wooden frame. It was then that you realized you never properly introduce yourself.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I never got to tell you, my name is-”

The words halted in your mouth, as you found the space in front of you empty. Alastor had vanished, not a single trace of his presence remained.

He was gone already? Damn, that guy moved quickly. Maybe, he was just a hallucination, a dream too good to be true. You stood there for a moment, before closing your mouth in thought.

Suddenly, the front door was flung open and a hand reached out and grasped your top. You turned your head just as you were yanked inside. Before you had time to blink, the door was slammed shut behind you. The window near it was shielded by curtains in seconds.

In front of you, your friend stood there. She was breathing heavily, a hand to her heart as if she just witnessed the scariest thing in her life. She quickly held your shoulders, scanning your body for any injuries.

“Oh my gosh! You’re lucky I pulled you in here quickly,” She exhaled a breath to calm her nerves, “You could have been that guy’s next meal!” 

“What are you talking about?” You asked, an eyebrow raised at her strange demeanor.

“Alastor! The Radio Demon! Y’know, the guy that murdered all those overlords years ago?” 

You raised an eyebrow as her words settled in your head. That demon was the Radio Demon? No way! He was such a gentleman, and rather pleasant too! 

“You’re kidding.” 

“I’m not! I don’t know what happened between the two of you, hopefully not a deal, but you need to stay away from him. He’s nothing but a bad omen!” 

You smiled, shaking your head at her antics. She was just being silly, Alastor saved you from potentially being kidnapped. You doubted he’d lay a finger on you in a harmful manner.

“Well, I brought that seasoning. Why don’t we go take a tour of the place, hm?” You said, pulling her away from the doorway and down the hall.

She nodded, her face lighting up instantly. “Yes, a great idea! I can’t wait to show you the kitchen, we replaced practically everything. The flooring is a beautiful marble tile and…“

She trailed off as her gaze shot to your hand, her eyes widening at the sight. Quickly, she grasped it, and pulled it closer to inspect it. You tensed, what was she doing?

“..what is that on your finger? I didn’t know you wore this kind of jewelry!” 

Following her gaze, you turned your hand slightly to see what she was so enthralled about, and your eyebrows raised in surprise at the sight.

Still perfectly snug on your finger, was that gold ring Alastor had magically placed on you. You assumed that it would have dissolved or vanished when he left, but that small A still glimmered in the overhead light.

“I’ll explain it over dinner.” You simply replied, pulling your hand out of her grip and beginning to walk further into the house. 

Your eyes kept landing on the golden band, though. Alastor not far from your mind as you listened to your friend fill you in on all the renovations. It was quite pretty, and it seemed to look great on you. For a moment, a rather odd thought crossed your mind, causing your cheeks to heat as you lamented over it. 

Would it be so bad if you just.. kept it on? 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

woah, first fic of Alastor! I thought he’d be the perfect guy for this scenario. i wrote the reader as sort of a hopeless romantic bc it’s the complete opposite of al and i thought it was funny

EDIT: Part 2 is coming!!

lmk what you think! :)

[jinwoosbabyboo]

𝑨 - 𝑳𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓

My headcanons of the LADS Men w/ a Singer/Idol reader [Requested by: liz9898]

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

He's a doctor before anything else, but he's making it to every show that he can

Tends to make it to your rehearsals more than your actual shows

wants to read over your contract with your label before you sign anything

always has flowers delivered to your dressing room on the day of your show

He owns every album and ep

"You know you don't have to buy the physical copies right? I can give them to you for free" "Yes I do I'm your number 1 fan will you sign this?"

loves surprising you when you're getting off stage with a small gift or flowers in hand

sets his favorite song as your ringtone

sexy dance with a partner? Absolutely hates it! "Do you have to do that part with him?" "He doesn't touch me Zayne it's just a body roll" "I'm not a fan"

when he can't make it to your show he livestreams it

buys you a bracelet with his name and birthstone "Wear this so you think of me" "Is this so everyone will know I'm taken?" "Thats only a plus"

plans his days off around your return dates when you go on tour

always sends an encouraging texts or calls before your shows

if you dont want your picture taken by paparazzi and he's with you he'll cover every lens with a sheet of ice

comes to your studio sessions when he can and if he can't make it he'll sit on the phone with you.

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

FANBOY FANBOY FANBOY

He's buying every album and ep and damn near setting up a shrine for you

He's at every single show

he has the option to be backstage or front row vip section he's front row 90% of the time

Captures the best angles of you while you're performing

Knows every single word to every song he's singing his little heart out right along with you

That fan page with 2 million followers? Thats his. Those fan edits that keep going viral for how good they are? Thats him.

He's backstage with you massaging and helping with ice packs to cool you down.

"Ice cold water isn't good for her vocal cords bring us room temperature!" suddenly he's the boss?

showers you in compliments after your shows and don't worry if your pre-show nerves start getting to you he's right there gassing you up

Now a sexy dance with a partner? he's not feeling it "I swear he wants to do a little more than dance" "well that would be shocking since his boyfriend is also my backup dancer" "Oh ._."

would 100% pack up and throw himself onto that tour bus the minute you ask if he wants to come with you

covering your face from paparazzi when you don't want your picture taken

those crazy stalkers and haters that are trying to harm you? strange how they keep disappearing huh

flowers and gifts before and after every show

sketches and or paints during your studio sessions; will spend all night/day in there with you he doesn't care he loves watching you and the process

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

supports you in every thing you do he's almost like you're personal bodyguard though

"no pictures" he says calmly as he places his hand on the lens of a pap who was hiding scaring the person shitless because how did he see him and how did he get there so fast

waits patiently backstage so he can carry you back to your dressing room

surveys the crowd silently even though you have security

follows all your fan pages and constantly scouring the internet for any bad press or hate so he can get rid of it

stands outside your dressing room while you rest so no one disturbs you "Xav get in here stop scaring my crew!"

goes over every minor detail with your label and publicity manager when a tour is brought up

tried to cook for you one time while on tour .... your manager nixed that expeditiously

that sexy dance you had with a partner? he got so jealous that you had your choreographer change the dance so he would stop sulking

prefers to carry you around because "you work so hard on stage"

changes your shoes for you and kisses your knee every time

takes naps in the studio when you're recording

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

this man is a mafia leader you think he has time to keep up with your hectic schedule? You bet your ass he does! Priorities baby and you're number 1

he is going over your contract with your label before you sign anything

you're going on tour? He's buying you the best and most comfortable tour bus money can buy

helps you in and out of costume changes

waits backstage with a pair of fluffy slippers and a bottle of water "You were amazing Miss Idol"

tries to sing your songs all the time "Hey baby who sings that?" "You." "Let's keep it that way"

Your dressing room, tour bus, and hotel rooms are always flourishing with gifts

Constantly praises you

follows your fan pages

either gives you a massage or has massages schedule for you to keep you nimble.

buys a recording studio for you so you don't have to pay the ridiculous studio fees

the twins end up becoming two of your backup dancers

gets rid of pictures online that you dislike; stops paparazzi from taking pictures by ruining the cameras with his evol

dont even worry about a stalker or crazy fan with malicious intent Sylus & the twins got that ass taken care of

[kpop---scenarios]

Reckless (1)

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Brothers best friend

Warning: Language, a little violence etc, smut later on

Word Count: 3k

“Jisung!” You yell from your room, covering your ears with your pillow. If he didn't shut the fuck up, you were going to lose it. “Jisung!” You scream again. Angrily, you crawl out of your bed, stomping your way across the hallway to his room. You try to open the door but the door is locked. You pound on the door, anger flowing through you.

“Open the door!” You yell, pounding even harder. Finally the door swings open, your brother looking annoyed.

“The fuck do you want?” He asks, rubbing his face.

“I have an exam tomorrow. I can't sleep with the fucking music coming from your room.” You yell. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Wear some headphones then.” Jisung scoffs.

“I swear to fucking..” you pause, as Jisungs best friends comes to the door.

“Feeling feisty tonight, are we?” Minho chuckles, moving past your brother and out of his room.

“Yeah I am, watch out.” You snap, stomping back to your room, slamming the door behind you.

Your parents had been gone for months for work, and unfortunately for you Jisung had decided to slack off at school despite school only being in for 3 months. He was partying constantly and having his degenerate friends over at the house all the time. Lee Know, or Minho was the worst of them all and he never fucking left.

He was an arrogant, annoying, selfish, violent, short tempered man who you disliked the most out of all Jisung’s friends. The two of them were a few years older than you, both supposed to be in University but the way things were currently going, you didn't know how much longer either of them were going to be enrolled. You however were in your first year at the same University and you were not going to take your opportunity for granted. You wanted to get out of this town and move away onto bigger and better things.

As the volume of the music is finally lowered, you get comfortable in your bed, easily falling asleep, finally.

The next morning you're up early, deciding payback was much needed for keeping you up half the night. As you're hopping around your room, singing along to your loud music, getting ready for class, you faintly hear a pounding on your door. You laugh to yourself as you make your way, ripping the door open, seeing an annoyed Minho standing there, shirtless with a pair of sweats on.

“It's 7am.” He deadpans.

“And?” You ask.

“I've been sleeping for 2 hours.” He groans. “Turn it down.”

“That sounds like a you problem.” you begin. “Also, last I checked, this isn't your house.” You smile, closing the door in his face before he can say anything. You head to your stereo, turning the music down, for a few minutes until you felt like he was comfortable in bed again, starting to doze off and you turned it up again. Not long after you turned it off completely, heading to the kitchen to grab a banana before you headed to the bus stop. You wanted to get to school a little earlier than usual, taking time to go over your psychology notes for your exam, one last time.

“Y/N.” You hear from behind you in the library. You turn around, seeing your best friend, Hyunjin, standing there with bags under his eyes, holding a mass amount of papers, and looking extremely uneasy.

“Hyunjin.. what happened?” You ask, trying not to laugh at the poor man looking so defeated.

“it's literally the 3rd month of school, and I'm going to fucking flunk out.” He gasps, sitting next to you.

“No you're not.” You chuckle, flipping over your notes to look at the backside.

“I tried to study all night but I kept falling asleep. Why did I come here? I hate it.” He pouts. You shake your head at the man, focusing on your notes.

“Well.” You sigh. “At this rate, I'll be failing with you. Minho was at my house again last night. He and Jisung were blasting music until all hours.” You say, rolling your eyes.

“Minho was at your house?” Your other friend, Jisoo gasps, pulling up a chair beside you. “You're so lucky.”

“He's so fucking annoying.” You retort.

“But he's so hot.” Jisoo grins.

You ignored her last comment, you didn't want to vocally agree with her, because the last thing you needed was for your words to get back to him and inflate his head more than it already was.

“And to be honest, so is your brother. Is he single?” She asks.

“He's single. But I'm going to tell you not to go there because I don't want you to stop being my friend.” You laugh. “He's a terrible human being.”

“But he's hot.” Jisoo swoons, batting her eyes at you.

“Gross.” You sigh, looking at your phone. You gather your things off the table, dragging Hyunjin behind you to your psychology classroom.

“Please, Y/N.” He begs from behind you. You turn your head to look at him, giggling at the pitiful man who is usually so confident. This exam really has him fucked up. You turn your head again to look where you're going, and bump into someone, knocking your papers and bag to the floor.

“Ugh, I'm so sorry.” You sigh, bending down to pick up your things. You look up, seeing Minho glare down at you. You roll your eyes instantly, scoffing. “Actually I'm not sorry.” You say, finishing picking everything up. You stand up, Minho still staring at you but now smiling. Hyunjin comes up beside you, swinging his arm around your shoulders.

“Come on.” He says, pulling you away from Minho, who still hadn't said a word to you, but the smile never left his face.

“You got this.” You say to Hyunjin, your hands on his shoulders as you both take deep breaths outside your classroom door.

“So do you.” He breathes. “Drinks after?” He asks. You glance at your watch, 12:58pm. You should be done by 4pm..

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” You grin as the two of you make your way into the class.

3 hours later, you both emerge from the room, disheveled hair, sweat and tear stains present on both of you.

“How did..” Hyunjin starts. You put your hand up to stop him.

“Not yet. Shots..lots of shots.” You whimper. The two of you link arms, heading for the pub down the street from campus.

Hours later, you stumble home. As you stand in your yard you see lights flashing inside, and you can hear the bass thumping from the street. Jisung would throw a party on a random Thursday. That's just what he does. You quickly text Hyunjin and Jisoo to come over and party with you, both of them replying that they'll be there soon. You head inside, your brother spots you immediately.

“Y/N.. it's only just started. Don't shut me down.” He fake cries. You glare at him, seeing Minho walk up behind him. A few of his other friends were standing around, a lot of other people you didn't know also staring at you.

“Let's do some fucking shots!” You yell, making your way to the kitchen, hearing the cheers from the party goers. You walk past a chuckling Minho on your way to the kitchen. You glare at him before grabbing his sleeve, pulling him in there with you and a few others to take some shots. As you're about to do your second one, Hyunjin and Jisoo walk in. You were already drunk from your after exam drunks with Hyunjin, and now you were feeling it even more.

“Jinnie.” You squeal, putting your arms out for a hug. He grins as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly. Instantly you hear Jisoo’s flirty voice come to play, you break the hug to turn around and see Jisoo and Jisung tucked in a corner talking.

That made you want to vomit. You turn back towards the group taking shots, quickly pouring one for Hyunjin before you all take it. “Let's dance!” You yell, walking past Minho with Hyunjin in tow. You're dancing, laughing and just all around having a good time but you can't help but notice Minho standing against the wall with his arms crossed, eyes trained on you. They roamed up and down your body as he watched you dance, and you hated that the way he was looking at you, that the way he was biting his lip was turning you on so much.

“I'm gonna get a drink.” You tell Hyunjin, making your way to the kitchen. You feel a hand on your wrist, pulling you down the hallway instead.

“You looked really hot out there.” a guy tells you. You have no clue who this dude was, and frankly you were not interested.

“Thanks.” You respond, turning back towards the kitchen.

He grabs you again. “I wasn't done talking to you.” He half laughs.

You can feel the annoyance building up inside of you. “But I'm done.” You say, trying to walk away again. His grip tightens, pushing you against the wall.

“I'm trying to get to know you better.” He scoffs. “Don't be so rude.”

“I'm not interested.” You tell him, as if your current lack of interest wasn't enough.

He stares at you, refusing to move, not saying a word. You can see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to figure out what to say to you next. Before he can get his words out, he's shoved away from you, sliding down the floor of the hallway. Your mouth hangs open as you turn to look and see who your savior was.

Minho stands there, his eyes practically shooting daggers into the man.

“Are you fucking dumb, Changbin?” Minho asks.

“What the fuck, dude?” Changbin scoffs, scrambling up off the floor.

“That's Jisung's little sister you fucking moron.” Minho snaps, pointing at you.

“Oh shit.. I'm sorry! I didn't know!” He panics. Your eyes bounce between the two men, not sure why Changbin sounded so scared of your idiot brother.

“I'll let you off this time.” Minho starts. “If I catch you near her again, I will beat the fucking shit out of you.” He finishes. Changbin nods his head before running off into the crowd.

“You okay?” Minho asks as you rub your wrist. You nod your head.

“Yeah.. thanks.” You smile, returning to the party. The rest of the night, wherever you went, Minho was there, off in the distance watching you. You weren't uncomfortable from it but you did wish that he would go and enjoy himself. He didn't need to keep an eye on you, and as you got drunker, you decided to let him know.

“You.. keep staring.” You hiccup, placing your hand on the wall by his head. He smirks as he looks at you, barely able to stand up straight, eyes fluttering open and closed. You were a goddamn mess.

“Let's get you to bed, mhm?” He says, wrapping his arm around your waist to help you up the stairs. As you're walking up, you unfortunately see Jisung and Jisoo locking lips, making all the drinks you had all night threaten to come up.

“Get a room you sick fucks.” You slur, walking past them. Jisoo comes up for air looking embarrassed but only for a second before Jisung steals her attention back. Minho helps you to your room, you stand in the middle, your arms up high. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, wondering what the fuck you were waiting for.

“I can't sleep in my clothes.” You whine. “but I'll fall if I undress myself.” You pout.

Minho reluctantly walks towards you, grabbing the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you in a bra and your pants. He moves his hands down towards the button of your jeans. You hop back a little, almost losing your balance as you laugh, hysterically.

“Funny.” He fake chuckles, moving towards you again. You grab onto his arm, spinning yourself around to his back, sliding your hands up and down his body. You reach around to his stomach, moving your hands under his shirt, running them over his abs.

“Ugh.” You groan at the feeling.

He quickly turns around facing you once again, a smile spread across his face. You knew he wanted to be mad at you but he couldn't.

“Take your pants off or I'm gonna throw you down onto the bed and take them off for you.” He threatens. You blush, hard.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. Minho reaches out for you, grabbing you by the waist of your jeans, pulling you towards him. “It's a little of both.” He tells you as he tries to undo your button. You were having too much fun in the moment, you didn't want it to end just yet. You grab his hands, pushing him away from you, laughing as he runs his hands through his hair. He has never seen this giggling playful side of you before, and he was enjoying the fuck out of it.

“Y/N.” He says sternly, his hands on his hips.

“Minho.” You say, putting your hands on your hips, pushing your hip out, pursing your lips. He's trying to remain serious but he can't. He starts laughing as he rubs his face, groaning in frustration.

“Take off your pants!” He yells.

“Yes sir!” You giggle as you take off your pants, leaving you in your bra and panties. Minho hands you a pair of pj shorts that he grabbed from your dresser. You semi quickly put them on before turning around, facing away from him to unhook your bra. It slides down your body, onto the floor. You smile to yourself.

“I bet you're upset, huh?” You giggle, turning your head to look at him.

“Why would I be upset?” He asks.

“Cause you can't see my boobies.” You laugh, turning slightly to show him a little side boob. “I think you'd like them.” You say, looking at him. His eyes are focused down, looking at what you're showing him. “Tsk tsk, naughty boy.” You scold, slipping your shirt on, turning around to face him.

He stares at you, and you stare back. You examine his face, his large veiny arms and hands, his roughly tousled hair.

“Jisoo was right.” You whisper.

“About?” He asks.

“You.” You hiccup. “She said you were hot.”

“And what did you say?” He asks.

“I didn't say. Cause I don't need my words going to your thick ass head.” You giggle.

“If they wouldn't go to my head, what would you say?” He asks.

“That you're really fucking hot. But you're a little violent and hot headed.” You sigh. “Buuut you're not allowed to know that so shhh.. cause Jisung said you're off limits.”

“Since when do you do what your brother tells you?” He laughs.

“I listen to him!” you say. No you didn't. “Actually, never.” You hiccup.

He doesn't reply. He stands there, staring at you. You can feel your breath hitch as he moves closer towards you, the palm of his hand gently laying on your cheek as his face moves closer to yours. You close your eyes, the world is spinning as you feel his lips press against yours. You feel like you're melting into the kiss as your lips move against his, his tongue slowly sliding into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You could have sworn this was a dream, like his lips were perfectly made for your own. He slowly pulls away, turning to look at the door, and that's when you hear it.

“Minho!”

It's your brother's voice. “Lee fucking Know!” He yells.

“Go to sleep.” He says to you, turning and walking out of your room. You lay down in your bed, closing your eyes. The world only spins for a moment before you pass out.

**

“I'm never drinking again.” You gasp as you crawl out of your bed, desperately trying to make your way to the bathroom to get some water. Your throat was the driest it had ever been and you felt like you might actually die. Once you reach the sink, you shove your head underneath, drinking all the cold water you could get into your mouth. Fuck it tastes good. When you're finally satisfied, you drag your feet to change into some comfier clothes before heading downstairs. Luckily you didn't have class until the afternoon today, so you could try to recover this morning. You grab some food from the fridge, eating it cold, ignoring the passed out people scattered around your house.

“Morning.” You hear. You turn to look, seeing Minho walk into the kitchen, heading for the fridge.

“Morning.” You sigh.

“Hungover?” He asks you, grabbing some juice. You whimper as you nod your head. He laughs. You turn to glare at him, when suddenly you remembered. You think you remembered at least.

“Did..” you pause. “We.. um.. actually nevermind.” You say, turning away from him.

“Did we, what?” He asks, grinning.

“Kiss?” You whisper, looking around, making sure Jisung wasn't around.

“Me and you?” He asks, shocked. “Did you have a sex dream about me?” He gasps, placing his hand over his chest.

“What!? No! I just had a flash.. of something.. and we were kissing.” You try to explain.

“I feel so violated.” He fake cries. “I wasn't aware you thought of me like that.”

“Who's thinking of you like what?” You hear. Jisung walks into the kitchen, grabbing your food off the counter.

“Y/N.” Minho says. “I think she's into me.” He laughs.

“Yeah right.” Jisung chuckles. “Neither of you are dumb enough to do that.”

You look at Minho as he looks at you. Neither of you were dumb enough.. right?

[xerotiny99]

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."

[writerjayne]

This is a little sterek college AU (are they human are they werewolves who knows) one shot that I wrote on my phone with no beta or editing So apologies for the errors! The premise is a little vauge on purpose in case I want to expand this into a full story later but basically its an "Everyone grew up together" kind of vibe. Made Derek only 3 years older to make him still being in college realistic. Enjoy!

The car slowing to a stop woke Stiles. Blinking around and not fully conscious he asked confused:

"Are we there already?"

Derek glanced over from the driver's seat and chuckled. 

"No we still have like three hours. It's just a traffic jam." 

"Oh," stiles sat up a little straighter and looked around, clearly still half asleep. "We'll still get there early right?" 

"Yeah, gps says we'll arrive at 1, so plenty of time for move in," Derek assured as the traffic began inching forward. 

"Good, I need to talk to the housing department," Stiles pulled out his phone, fingers moving rapidly as he typed. 

Derek smiled indulgently. It was Stiles freshman year of college and Derek had never seen him so excited. 

"To get your key?" Derek prompted when Stiles didn't elaborate. 

"No, I need to see if they have any empty rooms," Stiles tone was almost vague, his attention on his phone. "Or any double rooms with only one occupant. Here look there's an alternative route-" 

"I'm sorry what?" Derek cut Stiles off. "You have to ask about a room? Stiles it's move in day! The day you move in!" 

"Yeah so I have to get a room to move into," Stiles rolled his eyes. "So the earlier the better! Here, take the next exit so we can get around-" 

"Mieczyslaw Genim Stilinski!!" Derek didn't roar, they were in a closed car but it was a close thing. 

"Hey hey hey, why are you middle naming me?" Stiles demanded. "Forget that, why are you first naming me?!"

"Because your father isn't here to do it!" Derek growled. "You don't have a place to live?"

"Well I did! But then Scott decided to room with Allison instead and I told him not to worry about it but when I called the place we were going to rent from they said I couldn't rent a two bedroom as one person so yes I'm going to talk to housing when we get there!" Stiles waved his hands around as he spoke, getting more agitated. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, stiles, ask the adults in your life for help?" Derek pointed out.

"Dad has enough on his plate and I had already told him scott and I were set," Stiles sounded embarrassed. 

"Your father is not the only adult in your life," Derek reminded, though not harshly. "What about my parents, hell Laura would have been happy to help or I don't know me??"

"Your parents were busy getting cora all set up," Stiles pointed out. "And I thought about calling Laura but her semester just started too..."

"And me?" Derek prompted. "I'm not exactly new at this!" 

"Honestly I forget you're an adult too," Stiles admitted sheepishly. 

"Stiles!" Derek groaned almost closing his eyes but the traffic began moving again and he focused back on the road. 

"I know I know!! That's why I want to get there early, so I can get this sorted out with the housing department!" Stiles desperately explained again before holding out his phone again. "So can we take the alternate route?" 

"What if you moved in with me?" 

Stiles jaw dropped and he half lowered the phone. Derek wasn't looking at him, the older man's eyes on the road but he was growing in thought. 

"What?"

"Move in with me," Derek repeated. "It's small but you wouldn't have to worry about rent, you could save the money you make at your job. It's technically off campus but it's not far to walk. There's also a bus stop out front-" 

"But you hate having roommates!" Stiles interrupted. "And isn't it a one bedroom?" 

"Yeah it's a little place but we can make it work. And you're not a stranger so I think I'll be fine," Derek smiled slightly. "What do you say?" 

"Okay," Stiles was almost breathless. "If you're really sure..."

"I'm sure Stiles. Now we've still got like two and a half hours to go so go back to sleep. I'll wake you up when we get there." 

"Okay," Stiles said again, smiling this time. "Thanks Der." 

"You're welcome," Derek responded with a smile. 

*****

"I'm sorry I have so many books," stiles frowned apologetic as they hauled the last two boxes up the stairs to the apartment. 

"It's fine, Stiles, I promise," Derek said for what felt like the hundredth time. 

They dropped the boxes by the half full bookshelves in the small living room before pausing to take a break. 

Heading to the kitchen Derek pulled a couple of bottles of water from the fridge, silently greatful he had come the week before to clean and stock the apartment. It hadn't been used in months and had been dusty. Derek had wanted move in day to have as minimal work as possible so he had come to prepare. 

"Are you sure about me not paying rent?" Stiles worried voice pulled Derek from his thoughts. 

"I told you it's fine. I don't pay rent, why would I make you pay rent?" Derek held out a water bottle to Stiles. "My parents own the building, specifically so family can use it without having to worry about paying for accommodations. There's always a few units empty. This one has been mine since I started school." 

"If you're sure," Stiles relented. "Do we need any groceries? I can make a run!" 

"Sure," Derek started but he was interrupted by a knock on the door and it swinging open. 

"Hey nerd, how's unpacking going?" 

Both men turned to see Erica kicking off her shoes by the door. 

"Hey Erica!" Stiles greeted brightly. "It's going pretty good! We got the sleeping arrangements sorted first then hauled everything in!" 

Erica froze for half a second at the sight of stiles before smiling. 

"What are you doing here?" She asked

"Oh I'm living here," stiles glanced between his two friends "did Derek not tell you?" 

"He did not," Erica gave Derek a pointed look and the older man rolled his eyes. 

"Cut me some slack, I didn't even know until like 3 hours ago!" Derek gave Stiles a face. "Someone thought they could show up on move in day and just find a place to stay!"

"Oh?" Erica grinned and Stiles blushed. 

"I'm going to go get some groceries now," he muttered avoiding Erica's eye and she laughed. 

"Whatever Batman," Erica plopped on the couch, pulling out her phone. "Bring me back some chocolate?" 

"Sure," Stiles agreed easily. "I won't be long!" 

"Ok be safe and call me if you get lost!" Derek said sternly. 

"This isn't the preserve Derek, GPS actually works here so I think I'll be fine!" With that stiles left, waving as he pulled the door closed. 

As soon as she hears the door latch Erica jumped up rouding on Derek. 

"This is a terrible idea!!" She exclaimed. "Why would you even suggest it?" 

"If you're gonna lecture at least help me unpack his books," Derek answered, dodging the question. 

"Seriously Derek, what were you thinking?" Erica grabbed a box and began opening it. 

"Well I wasn't gonna let him be homeless!" Derek hissed. "He's my best friend-"

"Who you've been in love with since you were what 8?" Erica crossed her arms. 

"If we're getting technical since I was 3," Derek admitted. 

Erica did the quick mental math before asking:

"God Derek, was he even born??" 

"Um not yet." 

"Derek!" Erica groaned. "What are you going to do if he brings someone home? You'll be in jail for murder!" 

"I'm not that jealous!" Derek said defensively.

"No but you are that protective!" Erica countered. 

"It won't be a problem anyway, Stiles isn't going to bring anyone home," Derek said dismissively. 

"Are we talking about the same stiles?" Erica raised an eyebrow. "Stiles stilinski? The boy who dated Lydia Martin! Stiles stilinski who dated your sister and your cousin not to mention half the lacrosse team! Say what you want but that boy can pull!" 

"Okay so we cross that bridge when we get there!" Derek continued putting books on the shelves, avoiding Erica's eye for a moment. 

"Yeah okay," Erica crossed her arms. "We'll see how that goes." 

"You want a tour or what?" Derek huffed, changing the subject. 

"Obviously," Erica grinned. "Why else do you think I came over?" 

Derek refrained from rolling his eyes and gestured for the young woman to follow him. He gave a quick tour of the living room and kitchen before opening the door to the bedroom. 

"There's only one bed?!" Erica rounded on Derek, her disbelief written across her face. 

"It's a king, we can share," Derek shrugged. "We have before."

"This is going to end so badly. This is a disaster," Erica stood dumbfounded. "Seriously what were you thinking?" 

*****

"I was thinking 'hey one less thing to stress over' Scott I wasn't thinking about how in each other's space it would be!" Stiles nearly threw his hands up in exasperation. "I didn't exactly have another option!" 

"You should have told me! Allison and I could have got a bigger place or you an I could have done this first semester together and she and I could have moved in together next semester!" Scott's worried voice came over the phone and stiles could almost see Scott nervously pacing. 

"It's Derek Scott, it'll be fine!" Stiles tried to sound confident. 

"Who you've been in love with since you were old enough to walk!" Scott pointed out.

Stiles groaned. 

"I know, I know. But honestly, how bad can this be?" 

[ferrstappen]

max, don't panic l Max Verstappen blurb

a/n: he'd absolutely stop his car bc 1) what's a couple of points for this man? he's going to gain them back while sleeping; 2) this man PROTECTS you cannot tell me otherwise.

also, pls if anyone knows how to turn this blog (sideblog) into the main? my main is full of Shawn Mendes fics and on a permanent hiatus so I'll take any advice pls. anyway... I tried my best bc for some reason driver!reader is not my fav trope? but anyway, hope you enjoy <3

genre: kinda dramatic? angst? idk. request is here.

warnings: car crash.

pairing: Max Verstappen x driver!reader.

max, don´t panic – max verstappen blurb

The private but not secret applied to you and your boyfriend perfectly. Even if you didn't walk around hand I hand in the paddock, you always arrived together, bright smiles, sometimes riding the same car or blinded SUV, even arriving on the same planes.

This wouldn't be exactly controversial, but giving the fact you both were Formula 1 drivers, Max for Red Bull and you for Ferrari, yeah, it was a big thing. Especially since you and another driver in Williams were the only girls, people's eyes were always on you, obviously laced with criticism, sexism and misogyny, and of course everyone was waiting and constantly asking about which driver was the most handsome, if something had happened between you or any of the male drivers.

It wasn't pretty.

So Charles Leclerc had to miss a triple header due to an injury which costed him a surgery, you were briefly promoted to the Scuderia from Haas. The only thing you or anyone in the garage heard during the last few days was why you, why not Ferrari's own reserve driver? why not a driver with more experience? of course the lacing question was, why not a male driver?

You didn't need the press and public to keep speculating as your last Sunday driving for Ferrari arrived, even if sports sites stated the only reason you were chosen was because of your "especial friendship" with Max Verstappen, because it didn't make any sense otherwise. Of course Max rolled his eyes every time he heard something about it, forcing to bit his tongue to tell someone to fuck off, the fact you had been dating for now nine months had absolutely nothing of your job and performance.

It wouldn't help your case very much, having to calm him down on your shared hotel room. Well, it wasn't exactly shared, you just left you room vacant and made it to Max's to spend the night, sleeping in his warm embrace and messy kisses, trying to not exhaust your bodies in order to not be overly tired during race day.

Now, Sunday. Oh boy.

Before pulling your helmet, you found Max's eyes across the garage, doing a small sign with your fingers which Max matched, a secret language reserved for the both of you, expressing your love and preoccupation in front of everyone who was oblivious to the love language displayed in plain sight.

Then the race started and it was ordinary; good weather, good pace. But during lap twenty something happened.

You didn't really register when an Aston Martin car made contact with your rear wing, making you lose control and also getting hit by a Mercedes on the left side, which sent you flying through the gravel.

Fuck.

Your eyes closed as you felt the car spinning, waiting to make contact with the wall, trying to relax your body and mind, knowing injuries would be even more serious after the impact if her body was limp enough. Then it happened, you stopped rolling, the sound of gravel and tires stopped; radio wasn't working, though it wouldn't really work since you couldn't find your voice.

Max was on other sector, Gianpiero telling him to expect a red flag. At the same time, his eyes fixed on the screen and noticed the unmistakable red car flying and crashing.

Max was a man prepared for anything on the race track. Seriously, you could throw anything at him and Max would remain calm and collected, his body and mind not having to even think before making a move.

But this... this he wasn't prepared for.

"Which Ferrari was that?" Max asked through the radio, voice masking a slight panic.

"I don't have that information, yet. I'll let you know, now focus on slowing down, please, red flag red flag,"

"Is the driver okay?" Max completely ignored the other instructions given to him.

"No word, Max. Please," GP was cut off.

"Please tell me who's Ferrari is it!"

"Sainz was on the pit, it's (Y/N)'s Ferrari. Max, you can't speed up,"

Max ignored him. Of course, he knew better than to get in the way of the safety car and medical cars rushing, also noticing a green figure trying to get closer to the car, also noting a Mercedes and Aston with damages.

"Max, come to the pit, please," GP had many many experiences dealing with Max, but this was new. "Max, you are not going to help, you will only obstruct and put the car and yourself in danger,"

Max was covered in chills, watching the wrecked Ferrari, trapped against the wall, no movement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is completely unheard of. This is by far the worst accident during this season, but Red bull's Max Verstappen drove his car towards the crash, ignoring the red flag and his engineer. We don't now what's going on, how is the driver, as you can see it's a mess," That's what the audience was hearing and watching.

Ignoring everything, Max prompted himself up, leaving the car and reaching the medical car, trying to get someone to connect him to the Ferrari radio, knowing her radio was probably dead.

Time stopped, and then he saw you being carried, barely conscious but giving a thumbs up, and he felt like he could collapse and cry and laugh, all at the same time.

"I'm riding with her," Max stepped inside the ambulance, knowing pictures were being captured and broadcasted of him kissing your temple and holding your hand.

[totothewolff]

Chemtrails Over the Yacht Club Collection 18+ | Toto Wolff x reader, age gap, smut operator, clear daddy issues (this fic is inspired by Lana del Rey, duh), and yacht culture.

Summary: Toto Wolff is a name often mentioned at the Yacht Club, where you work after classes. For some reason, you have always pictured him as an old crank like the usual members, not this foxy man who arrives at the reception making your knees quiver.  The entire staff goes frenetic as he, one of the Club's most important clients, chooses to spend his spring break there without previous notice. You pray to the Gods that you don't cross lines with him since your entire livehood depends on this job, and you really want to graduate college. Author's note: This was supposed to be a one-shot but was way too long, so I split it into two chapters. I hope you enjoy them. By the way, this version of Toto has questionable morals.

< Masterlist | Next chapter >

1 - Dark but just a game

As the sun rises over the Mediterranean Sea, you find yourself running across the streets of Monaco at full speed, like a mad girl, your ponytail swaying behind you like a pendulum, sprinting as fast as you are able all the way from the bus stop to the iconic doorway stairs to Monaco's most prestigious, exclusive, and expensive Yacht Club. 

To your fucking luck, you are running late because you didn't hear the many alarms set on your phone. 

Not because you are acting lazy; these past weeks have been brutal, and your body is exhausted from work, college, and tests.

As you quickly climb the marble steps, you pray you don't slip and break your nose against them. Cleaning it will be a nightmare, and you already have many chores to do that day.

The staff access is all the way down the next street, but you only have about 2 minutes left to check in on time. Either you use this shortcut or get another notice, so you risk it!

For obvious reasons, the staff isn't supposed to use the member's and guests' main entrance; the one that leads to the glamorous and iconic lobby with the front desk and stunning bar that is featured in many Architectural Digest issues due to his architectural heritage and art deco layout, but fuck it.

You would rather get a reprimand from your boss, the Members Services & Events Department director, than a salary fine. You are already biting your nails to meet this month's end.

As soon as you reach the large double gold-framed doors, you feel the fresh air of the AC hitting your pores with a sweet scent of jasmine. 

You want to make the most discreet and casual way in, trying to blend and go unnoticed between the people there and their soft hums of conversations, but Lord! Fate hates you.

As soon as you push the doors open, you feel your keys flying out of your blue short's tiny pocket. 

You don't know who to blame the most: the designers who insist on putting those stupid, almost fake pockets on women's clothes, the massive ball of keys your manager insists you carry around at work due to the old-timey tradition of the place, or you for running relentlessly.

The sound the keys make when they hit the pristine and immaculate stone floor makes you want to die; it sounds like a torpedo hitting the ground.

All the people inside there, the ones chatting on the trendy and expensive lounge pearl white sofas, the ones getting down the swirl stairs from the terrace under that beautiful chandelier and massive skylight, the people enjoying their morning by the gold leaf bar drinking their welcoming Italian soda and the expertly crafted canapés along with the hot man standing at the front desk next to your boss turn their heads following the sound, all looking straight at you now as you stand still there in the middle of the room.

The hot man has short brown hair, dark eyes, and a well-built, athletic body that could easily be spotted from a mile away. He exudes power and sexiness, and you can't help but take him in. 

"Good morning" is all you come up to say, trying to keep your composure. Fuckity fuck!

The tall man bends his body and reaches down to pick up your rusted keys, which slid near his feet.

"Good morning, kid," he greets you as he enjoys the view of an embarrassed, sweaty, and out-of-breath you, with your hair loosened up from running under the sea breeze and wind in those tiny ass blue shorts and white polo that the Club makes you wear as a uniform, with a very amused smile on his face.

Toto's voice is smooth and captivating, sending shivers down your spine as you listen to him. Your heart races and your cheeks flush with a mix of excitement and nervousness. 

You can't believe the man in front of you is talking to you so charmingly. Most members and guests are out of touch or rude towards staff.

"Thank you, s-sir," you quickly reply, grabbing the keys with a slight tremble in your voice. 

Toto's eyes twinkle with amusement as he observes your reaction. It's clear to him that his presence takes you aback, and he finds it endearing.

"Who the fuck is this specimen of a man, Jesus Christ!" You think, your brain breaking down a bit.

"Right this way, Mr. Wolff," Chloé, your boss, stands right by him.

She is almost his height and a vision of elegance and authority. Her perfectly styled curly hair and soft, evony skin glimmer as she addresses Toto in the most polite voice, stealing his attention from you.

Before looking at you with an "I'm going to murder you," look in her sharp hazel eyes as a silent warning of the impending reprimand you are getting.

You immediately recognize the last name: Wolff. He most likely is Toto Wolff, the successful businessman who owns one of the villas at the Club and has a beautiful yacht by the dock. 

You have heard his name many times before. You know he is one of the most important clients and may be spending his spring break here. 

You had no idea he was coming; no one in the crew or staff notified you about it, which is the usual when a big name is to arrive. 

But most importantly, you had no idea he looked like that; you always pictured him as an old fart. 

Damn, he is hot!

-

As you fix your wild hair in the locker room, you notice Chloé enter, and you rush to finish tightening your ponytail. 

You observe her reflection coming your way in the tiny mirror on the metallic door of your blue locker. 

"Here we go." 

You can feel Chloé's disapproval while waiting for her words, and your mind races with fears and uncertainties.

"Girl, how often do I have to remind you about the importance of punctuality in this establishment?!" Chloé's voice is like ice seeping into your core, chilling you to the bone. 

You feel a mix of panic and frustration, knowing that you have once again fallen short of Chloé's expectations; she is your most supportive person in the entire place.

You bite your lip nervously, trying to devise a plausible explanation for your delay. For the first time, you are glad the staff area of the Club is not as luxurious as the rest of the sparkling oasis venue. 

It's a bit dark in there because there are only small windows below ground level, so it is impossible to notice how pale you are right now.

"Of all days, you had to choose today! Please stop being so reckless. There will be a time when I won't be able to stand up for you and help you out! You know I love you, girl, but Raphaël is going to give us so much shit if any of the guests or Abby mention the incident to him."  

You feel a wave of self-doubt washing you over. This familiar sensation crept up whenever you faced Chloe's harsh criticisms; she's the best but a challenging and demanding boss.

She is at the top of the game, and Chloé works hard to maintain the Club's reputation and the best guest service in town. 

"I-I'm sorry, Chloé," your voice stutters as you try to form an apology, your words coming out in a quiet, shaky breath.

You are still in a whirlwind of emotions. You did your best to keep a professional demeanor in front of Toto's presence and the rest of the guests. 

But the entire incident was overwhelming, plus his aura looked like he commanded respect from people.

"At least, Mr. Wolff, laugh it off." Chloé gives you a soft and reassuring rub on the arm. "I had never seen you reach that level of redness, not even when you slipped on the deck of Ms. Basset's yacht with her birthday cake while we sang her happy birthday," Chloé starts laughing at the memory.

"Here is his clown to entertain him," you get slightly embarrassed now and joke back, but you wish.

"Talking of which," Chloé switches tones back to a boss again.

"What?" you feel your heart going wild again.

You struggle to contain your emotions as she delivers you the news with a funny expression. 

You can't believe you have been assigned to Mr. Wolff's crew, YOU, to overlook and take care of his stay.

The mere thought of being in close proximity to him sends a flurry of butterflies dancing in your stomach as excitement at the prospect of working closely with Toto until you remember who you are. Then, apprehension fills you with the challenges that lay ahead.

"WHAT?!" you let out aloud.

"Yeah, I know, we know, we all wonder if Mr. Holst is pulling some survival experiment or wants to watch you do you and surprise us with one of your biggest hits, like the one you did today. Seriously, how do these things keep happening to you?! Child, I wonder." Chloé lets out with amusement.

"OH LORD,"

-

The Yacht Club's poolside bar glistens in the sun's warm embrace. A golden hue covers the luxurious setting and trendy chairs cradle members who lounge in pricey fashion wear and fancy swimsuits. 

Laughs and chats overlap the sound of the waves against the shore. The entire pool area has the most beautiful view of Monaco's sea. 

Spring is warm enough, and the freshwater of the ocean twinkles and sparks reflections, looking perfect for diving in or jet skiing.

The long pier there is closed right now as the Waterfront crew sets up all the equipment and performs safety checks before starting their water-based activities schedule for guests.

So, most members enjoy the state-of-the-art giant pool: swimming, sunbathing, drinking cocktails, or reading from their Kindles at the moment, making the bar busier.

Today, you are helping the mixologist and bartenders at the pool and terrace bar by restocking ingredients and tracking orders on the KDS. 

Jesus, these people have crazy and quirky demands for their beverages and food! 

Your feet start hurting from running from one location to another, to the kitchen and warehouse, and up and down the staff's outdoor stairs.

But all pain is gone as you watch Toto approach the bar, wearing an unbuttoned white linen t-shirt and yellow swimming short trunks. His chest and legs look damn good under the sun.

Toto's eyes linger on you as a flashback of a phone call he had with Mr. Holst, the Club Manager and owner, his long-time friend, comes to his mind.

"Miss Y/LN?" Toto says as he reads the list of staff names sent to his email for him to review before arriving at the Club.

"Oh, yes, that one you don't recognize, yeah, that's Y/N," Mr. Holst lets out a long sigh on the other end of the phone. 

He doesn't sound excited at the mention of your name. 

"She's the young college student who works for us, tirelessly, I must admit, to support her education. That's the only reason why I keep giving her chances."

"Put her on board my crew, then," Toto says while signing a cheque at his office, briefly holding his iPhone with his ear.

"Toto, I must warn you, she is inexperienced and really clumsy. I advise choosing someone else." the boss says.

"Add her, please," Toto commands what he pleases. He knows he can tip you well to help you with the bills.

"Okay, you are going to make me say I told you so," Mr. Holst jokes. "I love you here, my friend, but why the sudden rush to arrive? Shouldn't you be on cloud nine in Milano? You are giving us no time."

A small, sarcastic sigh escapes Toto's lips. "See you soon, my friend," his deep voice ends the call; there is no further explanation.

Your pulse quickens as you stand before Toto. You can smell his delicious cologne, mixed with the scent of saltwater and hints of citrus from the cocktails having served.

"It's a pleasure to see you again," he greets you; his words carry a subtle warmth. "I want a Daiquiri; take it to the in-pool chaise area. I will be there," he orders. "Oh, and I hope you don't throw some keys in it," he winks at you. 

"You dislike rusty flavors, noticed, sir," you joke back, seizing the moment; a small smile forms on his lips, and you feel like you won a prize.

-

Oh, the view that greets you minutes later as you go to deliver him his drink is just too much for your poor heart.

Toto is sprawled on one of the pool's chaises, sunlight dancing on his skin. His fit body is covered in a sheen of sweat from the heat, his muscular physique in full glory for your eyes to enjoy, looking impossibly hot. 

Under his sunglasses, he notices how your gaze goes all over him, his body getting you all distracted before he grabs his drink. "It's a good thing you didn't throw it all over me," he says, confusing you. "Watch your step." 

He points with his head to your feet. You are standing at the very edge of the pool. One millimeter more, and you could have taken a good swim with him, embarrassing yourself as usual.

"Oh God," in that moment, you want to drown in the pool. "Sorry, I'm not, I..."

"Don't mind, you can leave," he says, and that's all. 

There's no more Toto for you that day.

Is he always this cold?

-

You arrive home exhausted after today's work. The bar's closing always takes time, and it's late at night when you enter your aunt's apartment, where you two live. 

She has already left for work. 

She is a nurse and usually works the night shift, so you two see each other only occasionally, even if you share the same roof, just on weekends.

During the bus ride home, you made peace with the fact that you were going to bed with an empty stomach.

She left you a sticky yellow note on the fridge, letting you know she left food for you. God bless her heart! You felt too tired to cook. 

As you microwave your dinner, Léo texts you. 

Apparently, a kid threw up at the restaurant, and his father caused a big scene by calling the Chef and making him bring out the employee who cooked his son's meal to address him.

"You tried to poison my son! He screamed at me with a thick Australian accent. Can you believe the nerve?!"

Léo is 30 years old and works as a cook in the Yacht Club kitchen under a highly demanding Chef. He is as low-salary as you and middle class, too. 

Because of that and many more things you share in common, you two were able to bond and become great friends. 

Your aunt has always tried to play cupid with you two. She likes him and, well, you too, sort of. 

He is a good person and good-looking, and according to everyone, he is also into you.

You would let him win your heart if he wasn't determined to move countries and leave as soon as he finishes studying his cuisine master's.

There is nothing that frightens you more in this world than the fear of someone leaving you because your parents did that to you. 

Well, your dad was never present anyway. 

And your mom was an irresponsible and immature mess with you. She even called you an "oopsie baby" to your face once while being exasperated with you, but it was the truth anyway. 

She always blamed you for your father leaving and for stealing her youth, all that before she got sober and cleaned her act. 

Now, she is the world's greatest mom to her kids, your stepbrothers. You don't see her much, and she still doesn't care much about you. Still, she calls you on your birthday and sends you money every once in a while.

God, you hate people who abandon and hurt.

So that's why you fear a relationship with Léo. 

Paris is a goddamn expensive and challenging city to live and navigate, more so with a low income, so following him along is not within your reach.

But you really yearn for affection, a body to hold, for someone to touch you and make you feel special.

A boyfriend would be great.

-

As you lay in your bed, in the darkness, inside your small room, frustrated about not being able to fall asleep, you can't win the dirty thoughts running wild in your head as the night's warmth enters through the open window.

The light fabric curtains sway in the wind as the warm breeze caresses your thighs, and you succumb to the temptation you have been trying to resist for more than 20 minutes. 

You spread your legs wider, feeling the soft cotton of your pajama bottoms rub against your sensitive spot. You start to slide a hand between your legs, with a finger teasing the skin under your panties, getting aroused. 

You close your eyes and begin caressing your folds and picturing Toto's broad, sweaty, naked body approaching you at the bed.

You could almost hear his deep voice whispering, "You're so beautiful." His aftershave fills your nostrils as he leans in for a kiss. 

His big hands gently part your legs, revealing your bare, moist pussy to him before placing himself on top of you in one of the villa's bedrooms.

You fantasize about being buried under his weight, lost in the sensation of Toto's fingers teasing and exploring your insides. 

His soft, dirty whispers in your ear make you shiver, and you find yourself arching into his touch.

Back in real life, the sound of your shallow breaths fills the room as you dare to push an entire finger inside you all the way in while a soft moan escapes your lips as the scene in your head continues:

"Do you like that? Do you like me inside?" Toto asks, his voice low and husky. 

"Yes, sir," you breathe, your hips bucking against his hand, willing and trembling. 

As your finger moves faster, causing soaked sounds, your mind pictures Toto's intense gaze fixed on you; the thought of submitting to him, of being his completely, makes you quiver.

You feel the heat and wetness of your core and slide a second finger into you, eager for more. 

The soft fabric of your bedsheets rubs your skin with the movement you produce on the mattress as you go all for it, reminding you of Toto's rough yet gentle grip. 

"Tell me what you want," he says, working his hand faster between your legs, making you splash some drops of your wetness.

"I want you inside me," you beg, your voice barely above a whisper hidden below a moan. 

You are all pink in the cheeks and sweaty, and a need to pee sensation starts building in you. 

"And what do you think I should do about that?" he asks with a wicked grin.

"Please fuck me, sir; I need you inside me," you beg.

You close your eyes, lost in the dream, feeling as if he was entering you balls deep as you thrust your fingers as deep inside you as you can take them. 

Your moans hitch as you start pulling them in and out of you as you picture Toto's hip movements till you reach climax, your body shuddering with pleasure, whetting your sheets all over.

The warmth spreads through your core and leaves you content and relaxed. You bite your lip, and you are now feeling embarrassed to face Toto tomorrow morning after this.  

You clean yourself up and change your sheets, then fall asleep like a baby. Your best night of sleep in a long time.

-

OH, YEAH, SPRING BREAK IS OFFICIALLY HERE!

Which means no more classes, no more university, and no more annoying classmates. However, still lots of work to do at the Club.

-

You are all happy and peacefully cooking your breakfast with a lot of the extra time you have now on your hands.

Yesterday, Chloé authorized you to switch to the morning shift since college is on break. 

She left you many tasks for the day in the digital agenda the Club gave you, which you are now reading as you enjoy your avocado toast.

You have to look extra lovely and put together this week because you will spend three entire days alongside Toto in the middle of the ocean since he got invited to Mr. Holst's extremely exclusive getaway at his gigantic and modern yacht that could easily fit a nation in there, along with other five old farts.

-

Two days later, you are getting ready to join the crew on board to help with everything Mr. Wolff needs and what the harbor crew, the dock master, the Chef, and the sailing master ask you to do.

It also means you must wear the sailing slut-ish uniforms, keep them pristine, look on point all the time, and avoid embarrassing yourself.

After brushing your teeth and doing your hair and makeup, you check yourself in your bedroom's oversized, full-length mirror, fixing every detail on your sailing uniform.

This one attracts much attention from people on the streets as you travel on the bus to work. Guys always send you dirty looks or discreetly stare you down. 

Everyone finds it sexy, but not the Yacht's Controller, who always makes fun of it; he and his entire team nickname it "The Slut Navy Uniform."

It's a tight white long-sleeve button shirt with golden handcuffs and a v-neck cleavage, along with a French blue loosen kipper short tie and six golden buttons in the waist area to make it look smaller, with the Club's patched logo on the upper left side, and pair with a too short white knife pleated skirt that you always have to work around to avoid flashing the guests.

And to whose surprise, honestly?! Mr. Holst is quite sexist and still thinks his female staff must look pleasing to men's eyes.

You have a conflicted sentiment for him; sometimes, he is the nicest boss on earth, but he spans from that to a neurotic asshole.

He has a sweet, healthy, young-looking face for his age. Being a billionaire, having a plastic surgeon on call, and being chubby sure helps him with that, but he was definitely once good-looking.

His wife is way too hot for him, tho, and his three sons and heirs are also stunning but extremely posh, a bit deadpan, and out of touch. 

They aren't that reachable, but you have a good relationship with them all. 

You got hired to work there because your aunt was the nurse who helped him take care of his elderly mom for the last decade of her life.

-

The sun rises over the crystal-clear waters, reflecting on the luxurious yachts docked in the harbor as you walk along the pier, admiring the beautiful vessels.

"Here it comes, the Slut Navy!" the dockmaster yells at you from afar, greeting you and the other girls while joking around as there are no guests near.

He is a pretty quirky character, and you do a little dance in response, extending your arms and rocking your hips while reaching the edge of the pier, where he offers you a hand to board the yacht, along with the four other female coworkers.

You step onto the dock, feeling the cool wood beneath your feet, and take a deep breath to steady your nerves.

"Please don't break my ship," he jokes with you, double-checking on his list that you are part of today's crew. You are his favorite. That's why he is always teasing you.

"Girls, we have lots to prepare before guests arrive. I need you to split into teams. Let's go, people!" he stops fooling around and goes full business mode as he checks his Rolex Daytona.

-

On time as ever, the guests board the ship while you pour the cold iced tea into the glasses and help the Chef label which plate belongs to whom since one of the guests is allergic to cheese.

"SHIT!" you let out loud in the staff's kitchen, watching the clock on the wall. You were supposed to welcome Toto on the deck about 10 minutes ago. "Gotta go, guys." 

You rush to place the last sticky notes with names frantically before exiting and climbing the metallic stairs to ground level fast to look for him.

You find Toto standing at the railing, his eyes scanning the water. You can't help but admire his tall, muscular frame and the way the sunlight glints off his hair.

There he is, the man you've been secretly fantasizing about, just a few feet away. With a sudden burst of courage, you clear your throat. 

Toto turns towards you, his piercing eyes locking onto yours. You feel your cheeks heating up as you get closer. 

He raises an eyebrow, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Ah, there you are, kid. I thought you had fallen overboard already since there was no one to welcome me," he replies, his voice deep and resonant.

"That's why you were looking at the water, right?" You try to beat with humor the slight reprimand you got. "What can I offer you, sir?" you quickly ask. 

The yacht rocks gently under your feet, waves lapping against the hull as he gently brushes a strand of hair from your face. His touch sends shivers down your spine. "There, better," he says. 

Your hair got a bit messed up from working like crazy. Seconds later, Mr. Holst reaches you two, which explains Toto's move.

Mr. Holst checks you out, expecting you to look perfect, as Ava, his stunning assistant and assigned crew lass, moves to stand beside you.

She is everything you want to achieve at work and excels at her job. Although Ava acts cold and diva to you and the other girls, feeling above you all.

"Hi," you greet the breathtaking young, fit woman, low and quickly, discreetly waving your hand at her. 

She looks at you with the corner of her eyes. Her piercing blue eyes stay on you for a few seconds. Ava remains quiet and then moves her gaze back to the boss.

You wonder if the rumors of Mr. Holst and her are true; wait, that's misogynistic of you. 

Well, you will keep trying to make friends with her. She has no friends here, and you don't like that. You can't cope with abandonment.

"Good morning, my friend. It's good to see you," Mr. Holst greets Toto warmly and squeezes his arm fondly. "We have some catching up to do," he notices Toto isn't holding a glass in his hand yet and addresses you. "Go bring him his beverage."

You were standing there like an idiot, staring at Toto shyly. "Oh, yes, sir, immediately."

"That wasn't necessary," Toto bumps Holst.

"I know, but she didn't get hired to act like a lampost," They both laugh.

"Is Y/N always that nervous and shy? Not the best traits working in hospitality, I must say." Toto asks.

"Really?! No, gosh, I wish she was. I would like her to contain herself more." Holst chuckles as some of your incidents come to his mind. "You want me to have a word with her?"

"No, no," Toto says. 

Then, he is the one making you act like that?

-

The yacht's interior is even more luxurious than the outside, with plush carpets, gleaming marble surfaces, and intricate woodwork adorning every inch of space. 

You wander through the spacious halls, attending to Toto's requests and admiring the paintings and sculptures lining the walls. 

At the same time, you navigate the ship as you bring him the rye bread he requested to the long outdoor table on the bridge deck, where the brunch takes place. You face the mesmerizing view of Monaco's coastline as you step outside.

You place the plate in front of him and step back to your position behind him, at arm's reach, in case he needs something else.

You can't help but overhear the conversation and pay attention to his words.

"So, how is Irina? And your mom?" Mr. Holst addresses him, sitting at the head of the table and turning in Toto's way.

"Fine" is all Toto answers, deminors changing.

"Oh, okay, please, you don't say more," Mr. Holst jokes at Toto's lack of words; the Austrian chuckles.

The Chef then asks you by the open-ear bud headphones to bring out the sliced fruit dishes.

As all the staff heads back to the kitchen, Toto's eyes are drawn towards the action while the rest of the table doesn't bother paying attention.

When you are about to cross the massive slide door, a strong breeze comes your way. Toto gets to enjoy the view of your legs and ass on display as the wind pulls you a trick and raises your short skirt for a brief second before you rush to move your arm and hand to fix it.

He finds you so fascinating. The two of you couldn't be more opposite. 

"Those are some cute lacey panties," he thinks.

-

As the day goes by without significant incidents, you start to feel more and more confident around Toto. 

You stare at him for a while, driving the jet ski fast and wild on the waters, breaking waves and revolving, with a firm grip on the steering control and his delicious biceps flexing. 

You are glad he has the life jacket on; otherwise, you be drooling. Then, the sailing master distracts you from him as he asks the guests to return on board. 

The yacht will cruise to deeper waters so Mr. Holst can free dive.

You wait for Toto's arrival, holding the soft, high-quality towel while enjoying the view of a wet him up close as he climbs, dripping, on the swim platform. 

He playfully sprinkles you with some drops with his hand as you come close to remove his life jacket.

"Hey!" you complain, smiling at him being an ass.

"Just a small taste of the fresh waters. I saw you looking over a lot, and I supposed you wanted to join me in the fun," he explains as he dries his hair with the towel, messing it up. "How do I look?" he jokes around. His wet hair is all up and wild, going in every direction.

You laugh and smile at the sight, "Like lighting is about to strike us." 

He then combs his hair with his hand in a handsome man's move and drops the now-wet and heavy towel on your extended forearms. "I will be on the sun deck," he informs you and moves along.

-

Everything is going so well.

Toto sunbathes for a while and only asks you for one drink the entire time before he leaves to nap in his cabin. 

So you move on to your other tasks as he isn't around but still keeping an eye on his call bell.

-

All until later, when you hear commotion on the main deck. 

As you enter the living room area, you see Mr. Elrod, looking all red and swollen, sitting on one of the curved sofas as the aid crew offers him an EpiPen.

"Oh, no, no!" escapes your lips, watching the scene from afar as you feel the Chef and Mr. Holst's eyes set on you standing next to each other.

You sense Toto passing you around and standing by your side, observing the scene two steps behind you. The commotion woke him up.

Mr. Holst points you with his finger to the left, which means, "See you at my office now!"

Toto watches you release a loud sigh before moving your feet.

-

He waits for you outside the double wood doors of the office, sitting in the empty chair beside them, hearing the muffled screams from inside. 

After a while, it quietens, and you finally emerge from inside, distressed and fast, trying to hold back tears. 

You don't notice Toto.

You start heading to an empty place where you can cry in peace while avoiding being seen by guests. 

Toto follows you all the way to the flying bridge, keeping a reasonable distance from you and trying to be discreet.

It's dark already, and the air feels chilly up there as the night fully sets. 

He hears you weeping near the railing as you feel a jacket being placed on you. 

"It's cold," Toto's deep voice says, making you jump. 

You immediately wipe your tears, fix yourself, and turn to face him. 

"I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't notice you were here. I apologize." 

God! Why did he have to be there and see you like this? You wanted to avoid getting into more trouble!

He notices your overly apologizing trait and feels slightly sorry for you. "I followed you here."

Your stupid mind takes another angle. "I'm so sorry if I didn't hear you calling me; how can I help you?"

He stares at you. "I meant it as I saw the entire thing with Mr. Elrod and then with Holst and followed you here from his office. He loses patience quickly but is a good-hearted man." 

You nod, now getting it. 

"Did you poison the allergic guy?" he asks, a small smile forming on his lips at the situation's absurdity as he listens to himself.

"Yes. I messed up the plate's labels all for being in a rush." You aren't in the mood to light things up with humor as you hold back tears again. "It won't happen again." Toto notices it; you gulp and look directly at him. "You don't have to worry about it, sir. I will pay extra care with your food and beverages."

"You think I'm here because I'm worried you'll get me poisoned?" his voice is serious. 

You glance at him, confused and surprised. 

What's going on?!

"Just talk to me. What's the reason for the tears?" Toto wipes the tear running down your cheek. "Without the sir bit, please, just Toto."

"Understood, si-r-Toto," you quickly answer. "Well, I-yeah, I feel like I'm not good at anything! I always screw things up. It doesn't matter how hard I try! It keeps happening to me, and they had enough of it."

"Did Holst threaten to fire you? I can always talk to him," he offers you, concerned.

"No, I'm getting a fine, a big one. I can barely afford it, but I can't lose this job either."

"And you told Holst that? That you needed the money? I don't know, maybe he could give you additional chores, or you could stay free for extra hours?"

"Yes, I tried, but he knows that's the one punishment that would make me not dare to commit the same mistake again. It's a bit cruel, but I'm used to it, I guess," you explain to him before you literally have a breakdown in front of him, much to Toto's surprise.

He holds you in his arms, trying to calm you down while a more violent and cold current hits both of your bodies. 

You feel his thumb rubbing your back as you bury yourself in his warmness. His tender touch relaxes you so much that you start falling asleep, feeling exhausted. 

He then notices you struggling to keep your eyes open and to remain on your feet as you lean more into him. 

He lifts you from the ground with a firm grip and carries you around as you fall asleep on him. 

He takes you downstairs through the empty hallways to his cabin, not knowing where yours is or how to get there, and softly places you in his bed.

He pulls your skirt in place, respecting you, even if he likes the idea of spooning you and feeling the lace of your cheeky panties with his fingers as his eyes go down your sound-asleep figure.

Toto hasn't fucked anyone in over five weeks, and the urge to do so starts building inside him. 

But it's not proper to get involved with you.

-

The following day, he wakes up as the sun sneaks through the massive glass window of his bedroom, heating Toto's face; he then stretches and yawns before turning your way.

But you are already gone. 

It's about 8 a.m., meaning breakfast is about to occur. Toto gets on his feet, feeling hungry already due to his CEO routine, usually waking up between 4:45 and 5:00 a.m. and eating breakfast early. But he has to remind himself he is on a break.

-

He spots you as soon as he arrives at the bridge deck.

You are wearing a uniform similar to yesterday's. A white button t-shirt with a v-neck, this time no tie, but today's blue A-line plated panel mini skirt with four golden buttons seemed in it looks so tight on your ass, which is anything but good for Toto's horniness as he feels the urge to pin you against the hallway wall and rub your asscheeks against his groin.

He notices the nervous energy among the staff members, hurrying to attend to his and the other guests' every need as they start to breakfast.

Your eyes dart at him in awe and fear after last night's events as you give out the glass bottles of sparkling water to everyone at the table.

Toto chuckles to himself, aware of the power he wields on you simply by his presence. 

He looks at you with a cheeky grin and, on purpose, drops his fork.

The sound it makes when hitting the floor causes Mr. Holst to turn Toto's way and joke out loud. "It's alive! The fruit is alive!" he messes around.

"Y/N," Toto calls your name, a smirk already on his lips. "Would you mind picking it up for me?" he requests you in the sweetest tone in front of everyone.

"You little shit," you think, but you say, "Sure, sir," and struggle to get down to the floor in that fucking tight as hell mini skirt, trying to bend without your pussy greeting everyone. 

He enjoys watching you try and struggle all the way down and is pretty surprised when you achieve it without revealing yourself.

"Let me get you a new one, SIR," you emphasize the last word while looking at him with murderous eyes as he laughs under his breath.

Once you are back and have handed him his new fork so he can resume enjoying his fruit, Toto grabs a strawberry with it and gets it in his mouth. 

As soon as the fork makes contact with his lips, Toto feels them burning violently.

He turns your way, eyes wide open, and since you are just two steps behind him, you come closer to mutter near his ear, "Oopsie, I must have dropped it in the wasabi sauce."

-

After a long chat with the other guests about business, Toto excuses himself to get a shower. 

He dismisses you and gifts you some free time before they dock in Eze Village. 

He asks you to go get him in his room when they arrive.

-

Toto steps into the steaming water, letting it cascade over his muscular body. He closes his eyes, trying to clear his mind of the sudden life crisis that brought him here. 

As he soaps up his body, he can't help but reach between his legs and begin to stroke his growing erection. 

He could be fucking anyone instead of jerking himself off in the shower. After all, he is a handsome billionaire who can afford life's finest things but is stranded here with few options.

A slight smirk forms at the corner of his mouth as he thinks you would probably be more than happy to join and help him with this as he runs his hands over his well-defined abs and chest. 

He pulls all of his strength not to call you in.

Instead, he focuses on pulling himself harder, faster, and more intensely as he gets lost in the moment. 

"Ahh" he moans, arching his back as he feels the familiar tightening in his groin. His cock is as hard and curved as possible and bounces slightly with each move.

After minutes of going at it, he hears the soft and muffled knocks on the door. 

It must be you, as he instructed you, obedient girl! He would reward you for good behavior if you were in there with him.

He rushes to pleasure himself, or otherwise, if he stops and steps out, after opening that door, he is going to fuck you right against it, not being able to contain himself.

His grip tightens on his shaft. He can feel the familiar tightness building in his balls, warning him of his impending release. 

As he approaches his climax, he lets out a long, intense groan, his fingers founding the way on his throbbing cock. 

With a deep breath, he allows himself to cum, feeling the warmth spreading through his body.

As his last drops of cum splash against the glass, Toto then opens his eyes, catching his breath, feeling refreshed and invigorated.

He cleans himself before quickly stepping out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist while he hears you knocking again.

He opens the door for you, still undressed, wet hair dripping on his bare chest. 

You can't help but look surprised and get a notorious blush, trying to stop your eyes from going all over him. 

"I'll be there in a minute, kid," he says, letting you peek at him before closing the door to your face.

Is this man sending you mixed signals, or are you going crazy?!

-

Much to his surprise, you remain on board the yacht doing other chores instead of joining him at Eze Village. 

Ava stays in charge of Toto and Mr. Holst as they tour the small village; their first stop is the cigar store.

As they exit the shop after spending a couple of hundred, Toto notices the nearby street where many men wander around, going up or down a broad stone stair to a redwood door. 

At 2:00 p.m., that place looks already buzzing, bright daylight still on the streets.

"That strip club is unbelievable," Holst whispers near his ear, noticing Toto's eyes wandering there. "It's pretty hidden and offers lots of privacy. That's why it's so popular amongst the elites, plus the girls in there, woaf." Holst throws a kiss in the air. "We should stop by after lunch, you know, as our dessert." Holst bumps him, and Toto nods, agreeing. 

He very much needs it.

-

Everyone is back in the yacht at the time set. The night starry sky looks beautiful on board, and the waters are calm, but the crew isn't.

The guests look bored and a bit pissed off of waiting for Wolff and Holst; they are nowhere to be seen.

"Should we go look for them?" you ask, concerned for his wellbeing, you mean, their wellbeing.

"No one else gets off here," the sailing master declares after sending two male crew members after establishing contact with Ava; after four tries, she finally picks up the signal.

"We are on our way back," she updates him on the radio, sounding exasperated and a bit emotional. "Also, send Hob to receive us at the platform, but make it tactful."

Everyone in the crew looks at each other with a "Did something happen?" expression as they are all gathered around the radio in the small lobby of the crew's cabins.

"Walk," Hob tells you as he passes you by. Moving fast, you follow him without questioning much. 

As you two reach the platform, you see Arvin and Hob teaming up to carry a totally hammered and passed-out Mr. Holst to get him to his suite.

And Carlo helping out a drunk but still awake Toto to walk him to his room, the Austrian hanging from his shoulder to help his balance. 

Carlo signals you with his hand to move your ass to Toto's cabin.

"Pour him a tall glass of water," he asks you as he lowers Toto on his bed. "Stay in here if he needs something else or throws up."

"Puff, I'm fine!" Toto says, making fun of the large man as he tries to remove his shoes but fails completely. 

Carlo exits the room and closes the door behind him, leaving you two alone.

"Do you need help with those?" you offer Toto, a bit amused. He looks way less intimidating when drunk.

He shakes his head way too much. Finally, he gets them out with much force, and one bounces around the carpet floor.

Then he attempts to unbutton his shirt. You watch him struggle with that until he gets exasperated, unable to coordinate his hand movements, and wants to sleep now.

"Would you mind?!" he looks pissed off at you as if it was a duty you were supposed to do.

You don't take it wrong and gladly reach out to help him get undressed. 

Toto is sitting at the end of the bed. You stand between his slightly open legs, placing yourself between his knee. As you undo his shirt, he looks up at you, looking straight at your eyes, chin up.

Jesus! That smell! Why he smells like whore? 

Which turns out to be a good thing; otherwise, you would have to resist the urge to throw yourself at him.

As you unbutton the remaining two lower ones, he says, "I picked the one who looked like you," and you have no idea what he is referring to.

He manages to take his pants off; good thing! You would have lost it! And then Toto drops himself face down on the mattress, quickly falling asleep in his trousers.

You place a pillow under his head and involuntarily comb his hair with your hand.

-

He wakes up to the vision of you sleeping all curled up in the armchair you dragged near his bed; a weird feeling washes him over before he rushes to pee.

Once back, he falls asleep again, and no human force will wake him up.

-

After tidying up the room and grabbing Toto's clothes from the floor to the laundry, you leave a hungover kit and a new glass of water on his bedside table before leaving.

Your list of things to do today is nuts.

- 

That same morning, the Chef sends you to get more flour sacks. 

When you open the big, heavy, metallic pantry door, you unexpectedly find Ava crying inside there under the bright light bulb.

"Oh, sorry," you quickly add. Ava immediately turns around and pretends she's looking for something, reading the labels on the cans before her.

You know a crying girl spot when you see it; unfortunately, you have used almost all of them.

"Are you okay?" you ask her, concerned.

"Yes, it's all good. I was looking for this!" Ava answers in her usual tone, picking up a random can.

"The anchovies got you emotional? Got it! I also got emotional in here once for a jar of mayo, and also when choosing which broom to use in the broom closet, and while folding napkins in the linen closet. I get it, girl." You confess to her all the places where you have cried in the yacht due to circumstances.

You make her smile a bit. "No, but seriously, are you okay?!" You ask and try again, sensing she opens up a bit.

Much to your surprise, she starts telling you: "I can't believe he did this to us!" in between cries. "This was supposed to be our gateway trip, not this!"

She sounds hurt. "I'm sorry. I'm not sure about what or who. Still, fuck them for hurting you!" you reassure her, trying to be empathic and supportive while also trying to figure it out.

"He and Wolff spent the entire afternoon inside that fucking strip club! Getting God knows what! I wasn't able to go inside; that stupid no women-allowed policy, you know, fuck them! And that fucking security guy even threw me out of the street, he made me leave, and I had to wait for them FOR HOURS!" now her sadness was starting to become anger. 

"God! I looked like an idiot sitting for hours in that cafe at the corner, forced to ask for food or drinks every once in a while until I saw them pass by through the windows, looking like a mess, barely able to walk and holding rolls of euros in their hands! That's when I sent the signal!"

WAIT A MINUTE! Toto went to the strip club?! You feel a sting of pain and jealousy. Oh, that was the smell! You feel pissed off, with no right howsoever. 

WAIT. Ava is referring to Mr. Holst?! Fuck!

-

Toto looks very comfy in one of the bulky sofas in the living room. This time, he is enjoying the inside of the yacht, staying away from the sun like a vampire, with his sunglasses on and a stern expression; his head must hurt.

You notice Toto's nasty hickeys on his neck in broad daylight as you approach to check on him, the ones that make your stomach revolve in jealousy as if you had the right to feel mad at him.

"I heard there are good natural remedies for hickeys. Maybe we have the ingredients on board. Would you like me to bring you one, sir?" you can't contain yourself.

He pays attention to your every expression. "Just Toto, remember? When it's just the two of us. And, yes, bring it." 

You return with a peppermint oil mini jar on your hands. Toto stays there staring at you without reaching his hand. 

What is he expecting?! For you to rub it on his neck?!" Yeah, you're mad. 

Finally, he grabs it.

"Let me know if you need something else for other regions," he detects your displeased undertones. 

"That's all. I don't need anything else for any other areas. Nothing happened in any other area," Toto hints to you.

"Understood, sir" you willinly ignore him, still giving him shit.

"Kid, are you allowed to go to Holst suite? Tell him if he will face me at the pool table or if he chickens out." Toto stands up and reaches you closer, his chest a centimeter away. Then he pats your head. "Be a nice pet, little one."

You stare, thirsting at his lips. Also, you want to strangle him! Also, he wants to strangle you, but in a different way.

-

As you are about to knock on Mr. Holst's suite's massive entrance door, you hear Ava's muffled, intense moans coming from inside while she groans to him to give her his dick harder.

Yeah... maybe later.

Damn, he must be fucking the "please, forgive me" out of her! Why is Toto not doing the same?!

You laugh at the thought.

-

"Mr. Holst isn't available right now," you inform him upon your return.

"Chicken!" Toto says, pouting.

More like "Cheater," you think. That guy has a wife and kids.

-

Toto ends up playing pool with two of the other male guests at the man cave, nicknamed "The Captain's Delight." 

The room has rich, dark wood paneling and sleek silver accents. It smells of fine leather and cigars. At the center of the place sits a gorgeous pool table crafted from the finest materials, with an emerald green top and balls made from solid, gleaming ivory.

You call the bartender in and start helping him serve the drinks for Toto, Stellan, and Bram.

Stellan's eyes gleam with confidence and arrogance as he sips his drink and makes a ball hit the pocket with a loud crash.

Toto is a bit of a show-off, always trying to prove himself as the best player. 

And Bram isn't much into the game as he can't help but steal glances at you, his eyes lingering on your curves every time he chalks up his cue, acting anything but discreet.

The bidding starts slow, but the stakes grow higher as the game heats up. The men raise their bets, and their voices grow louder and more aggressive as they argue over who made the best shot. 

Bram eyes get bloodshot from too much drinking, and his speech gets slurred as the game progresses. Their competitive spirits fueling the intensity of the round.

Bram's eyes continue to go all over you, from your legs to your ass, where he keeps staring for more than you like and at your breasts every time he addresses you.

On any occasion you pass by near him, you hear him throw a dirty innuendo whisper really low, only for you to listen to it, which makes your skin crawl.

When he misses a hit, he gets angry and throws a fit.

As he remains out of the game, he asks you for a refill of his drink. As soon as you are back, he pulls you by the waist to sit you right next to him, forcing his hand behind you, making you feel really uneasy.

Toto notices it and quickly approaches you, sitting right by your side, with no inch of space between you, causing the other man to slide away casually.

Bram returns to the game as they start a new final round; another "all-in" bid is placed. 

Stellan takes the price, being the best player of the night, much to the dislike of his peers.

Everyone calls it a night. But you stay in, tidying everything up and helping the bartender clean the bar. 

He wishes you a good night, and you turn off the lights and exit the room minutes later. It's almost 3 a.m.

As you leave the man cave into the long, empty hallway that leads to the stairs, you notice from the corners of your eyes that Bram is leaning against the wall there, waiting for you.

You quicken your pace, but Bram follows you, his eyes fixed on you. "Hey, babe," he slurs, his voice growing louder. "You're really something special."

You try to ignore him, but Bram continues, his words getting more and more aggressive. "Come on, babe. Let's get you a drink. I have Tequila Ley in my cabin and have a great idea for a game."

But you are having none of it. You keep moving. The stairs aren't that far away now, but the hallways are empty and dark, making you feel nervous, as Bram is relentless. 

As you reach the base of the stairs, he goes for your arm, feeling you are slipping away. He spins you around to face him, pushing you against the railing, which makes a loud sound. 

He places his hands on your legs and rubs them up, starting to pull your skirt up as he slides them in while you panic, not knowing how to react.

"I heard a collision sound. All good?" a deep voice booms above you.

Bram looks up to see Toto's imposing figure with an enraged face and stabbing eyes, and he immediately yanks away from you.

You take advantage of the distraction to pull free and hurry away up the stairs to Toto. He watches Bram leave, heading back in the direction you were coming.

"Are you okay?" he asks you.

You nod, looking relieved. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for intervening."

Toto nods. "I noticed him creeping on you all night long; I was waiting for you in case he tried something stupid. I should have stayed in the hallway by the door and avoided you this."

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly. You had previously dealt with similar situations, but this one went too far.

"Why don't we get some fresh air? You look like you could use it." Toto suggests, and both think of the same place to go: the flying bridge.

-

"Are you really okay?" Toto asks with concern etched on his face as he notices your eyes lost in the sea. 

You are sitting at the edge of the wooden floor, shoulder to shoulder, with your legs hanging in the air and leaning on the railing as you admire the moon's glow reflecting on the waters.

Even with that beautiful landscape, you can't shake the memory of that creepy guy harassing you earlier. 

Thank goodness Toto noticed how the man leered at you, making those crude comments under his breath. 

God knows what could have happened if he hadn't stopped it before it went too far!

The incident left you with an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

"You know, if you want to explain to me what hap...," Toto starts saying, but his voice trails off as he looks into your eyes and sees the vulnerability. 

He knows that he should keep things professional between you, but there is something about you that he can't resist.

He places his hand on top of yours, and the warmth of Toto's hand takes you out of your trance. 

He can't help but lean in closer, your heart racing as you see him approach to rest his temple on yours. 

You lean into the touch and wrap your arms around his waist, holding him tight, making you feel safe and protected. 

Finally, you can't take it anymore and whisper: "I don't know what's happening between us, but I can't resist you anymore." you smile, your cheeks flushed, fresh tears drying. "But I want you, Toto," you confess.

He looks at you in total silence for what feels like an eternity, just looking at your eyes.

Before your lips meet in a tender, soft kiss that sends waves of electricity through your body, before you move your hands around Toto's neck, pulling yourself closer to his body as the kiss deepens. 

The kiss grows hungrily, and you keep rubbing yourself against him until he wraps you around his waist and lifts you.

He leads you to his cabin, his footsteps echoing in the quiet space. As he closes the door behind you, a wave of nervous anticipation washes over you.

He looks straight at you, his eyes searching for any sign of hesitation. You look back at him, your gaze unflinching, and he knows then that you are ready before lowering you into his bed. 

You glimpse at the bulge on his pants as he moves to place himself on top of you, parting your legs; you pull him closer once more, his lips finding yours as he undoes the buttons on your shirt, his fingertips grazing your bare skin. 

You close your eyes, savoring his gentle touch, feeling his warmth and hardness. 

He trails a line of kisses from your collarbone to your stomach, taking his time to explore every inch of you as his hands trace the curves of your body; slowly, he slides your skirt off and tosses it aside.

He leans in and places a soft kiss on your inner thighs, eliciting a gasp from you; he quickly removes his pants, not being able to contain his erection inside them anymore.

You stare at his dick shaft to the side, and it makes you get wetter with arousal.

Your breath hitches as Toto unclasps your bra, revealing your breasts and teasing your nipples with his fingertips until they harden under his touch. 

His mind is whirling with desire for the beautiful young woman you are. He returns to his position between your legs and starts rocking his hips in circles, rubbing his erection on you. 

You grab his ass and squeeze it, pulling him closer. "Toto..." you whisper, arching towards him. His tongue teases your earlobe, making you shiver. 

"Do you really want this?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Your answer comes in the form of a moan as you lean into him, your hands finding their way to his chest. "I've wanted this for days."

He then removes his trousers and, in a single move, pulls down your soaked panties before penetrating you slowly, feeling your body tense up at first but then slowly relax into him. 

Your breaths become synchronized as you both sway together. Your moans fill the cabin, echoing off the wood-paneled walls as you enjoy his length inside you. 

The feeling of being taken so roughly sends waves of ecstasy through your body. Toto runs his fingers through your hair, pulling it. 

With each thrust, you can feel yourself falling deeper in love with Toto. For him, you taste sweet and innocent, yet wild and untamed at the same time. 

He thrusts balls deep into you, taking you completely. Your bodies clasping together in a rhythm. Sweat dripping down as you desperately fuck each other. Your pussy clamps down around his cock, driving him crazy.

After a while of intense fucking, with a couple of final hits, you feel an orgasm releasing from you as you come all over his dick. He groans into your mouth, his hips bucking and his cock throbbing inside you. 

Minutes later, Toto quickly pulls out in a fast move, removes his condom, and lets his cum spill over you. 

You gasp in surprise but then moan as the warmth spreads across your sensitive skin.

He leans down and kisses you passionately, your tongues dancing together in the aftermath of intense lovemaking. You look completely satisfied. 

"That was amazing," he whispers against your lips. You nestle closer to him, your breathing still ragged. 

"No one has made me feel like this before," you murmur, tracing the head of his cock with your fingertips, caressing with your hand all over his chest, then kissing him for a while, tongues dancing, moist lips rubbing.

Then, you both get clean and return to bed, where you are about to spend the rest of the night embracing.

As you are comfortably wrapped naked in his arms while he tenderly runs his fingers on your lower back, Toto tells you: "I have been restraining myself from having you for days.

"Why?" curiosity is filling you.

"Because it seemed inappropriate, plus we couldn't be more different, starting for our ages. I could be your dad!"

"Daddy..." you sigh as you look straight into his eyes, moving your gaze away from his bare chest.

"Stop it," he lets out in a dangerously low voice.

"What? It turns you on? I wouldn't mind another round, daddy," You moan out the last word, being an ass and teasing him. "My shift starts in about 2 hours."

Suddenly, you feel his weight all over you as he, in a fast move, places on top of you, and you laugh. He starts kissing your neck and heading all the way down, biting every inch of your skin.

You release many "daddies" out as he devours your pussy and fucks you hard till the sun comes out. To be continued... < Masterlist | Next chapter >

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Outta left field.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The brick facade stares back at you. You have to keep from gaping in awe. You're not a sightseer, you're there to work. A job. Your first ever. A bit late, but better than never.

You stop at the gate and hike up your kit as you shove your hand in your pocket in a cramped search. You slide out the flip phone and pop the top, clicking through for the email. The cheap burner is all you could afford and you needed a cell to get any sort of employment. Even just to live, it seems.

You click on the agency's email. A concise list of instructions for your first day. Alone. Last week, you shadowed a woman named Florence as she took you through an east-side home, but this week, you're on your own and uptown. The property is much nicer than any you've been in before. The sort you gaze at longingly in passing. A true urban palace.

You follow the first point on the list, keying in the code awkwardly with spaced-out punches. The last beep triggers a buzz as the mechanism releases and you turn the haandle to let yourself through the iron gate. You close it, pushing it to make sure it catches. You look around at the greenery; expertly trimmed hedges and a stone bench, flowerbeds clustered artfully in all shades. A mini Versailles in the heart of the city. The owners must be very well-off.

You gulp as you follow the stonework of the winding path along the curved driveway. Your shoulder aches from the weight of your kit and your spine is still rigid from the tense bus ride. You approach the front door and stagger to an awkward halt as you check the screen again. In all caps; DO NOT USE THE FRONT DOOR. You peer up over the stone steps and give a nod. Of course the help should go through the back.

You circle around to the rear of the house, the scent of pollen and the freshly groomed hedges clouding around you. You find the door nestled beneath a net of ivy and key in the next code. The very modern security contrasts the antique veneer of the house. You step into the silence of the grand home and listen. You're not sure if you're alone. What do you do if you aren't? It might be awkward to wash someone's floor without an introduction.

You move to the next directive; cover shoes. You squint and suck your lower lip in. You see the small box on the corner table tucked beside the door. You stay on the mat as you pull on the plastic shoe covers. It makes sense. You don't want to track in another mess to clean.

Again, your breath flies away from you. Even just the back hallway is divine, or maybe you're just brutish. You're not very hard to impress with what you're used to. A job won't cure it, but it'll make it bearable.

The next point; gloves. Okay. At least it's straightforward. The owners must be very particular. Or germaphobic. You let your assumptions write a story as you advance into the house. The email directs you to a closet where you are permitted to hang your things and where a mop, broom, and vacuum await you amid other supplies too big for your bag. Next point…

You proceed inside, slowly. The instructions are written almost to guide your every step. You move down the hallway with duster, broom, vacuum, and finally the mop. You're sweating by the time you get to the first doorway. The kitchen. Despite your employ, the place is already near immaculate. The only sign of life is a single black mug beside the sink.

It's eerie as you cross the tile, investigating with your eyes, almost too afraid to touch. You're going to have to if you mean to do good work. You continue down the list, doing your best to be thorough. When you return to the hall you're caught in place by a thought. There are no family pictures. It adds to the emptiness of it all. There are portraits of famous landmarks and imitations of reknowned artworks, though you wouldn't be surprised if they were genuine. But no family.

Next point. A bathroom just diagonal from the kitchen, spacious with dark wood and shining gold. You leave it smelling with the sterile scent of the cleaner. Back in the hall, you pause to drink from the water bottle in your bag. You head back down the hall intent on your next task. An hour already.

Another large room; a dining room that opens into a sitting room with a large fireplace. It really is amazing. Your father won't believe how nice it is here. You don't have time to worry about convincing him as you dive into your work. It isn't difficult work but you want to do a good job. You get this knot in your stomach just think of your boss, Clara, telling you otherwise or going home with bad news.

You finish the sitting room and go back to get your water. You nearly finish it. You check the time again, then the list. You can refill before you continue. You go back to the kitchen and cross to the fridge, pressing your bottle to the lever beneath the filter. It'd be nice to have something like that at home. You listen the hum of the fridge as you fill your bottle.

"Ahem," the clearing of a throat startles you and you jump, splashing yourself with cold water as you spin to face a tall man. He stares at you imperiously from the doorway, his figure lithe as he holds his chin up in dissatisfaction. "And who said you could do that?"

"Um," you swallow and look at your water bottle, fingers numbed by the water, "sorry, sir, I ran out--"

"Clean up your mess and get back to work," his lilted accent slices into you.

"Sorry, sir--"

"Bullet number one, A," he says tersely.

You frown as you struggle to understand. You replace the cap on your bottle and fish in the pocket of your black pants. You take out the phone and check the email. 'Do not speak unless permitted.' Well, he spoke to you first. It's the only reason you said anything. You're not very chatty yourself.

You keep from repeating sorry again and dip your head down. You take the cloth tucked into your pocket and bend to sop up the water from the floor. You don't look at him as he looms and you exit the room, sidling past him in shame. Oh no, you hope he doesn't tell Clara.

You replace your bottle in your bag. You'll go without. You look at your phone again. You can do this. No more mistakes.

You march back down the hall and dare a glance into the kitchen as you pass. He's already gone. That must be Mr. Laufeyson, the owner noted in the job description. Is it just him? He doesn't seem very fond of others. Or just you. You're just a maid, after all.

🧹

Your father's apartment is in the south. The fence is crooked and missing slats and the grass is patchy and yellowed. The porch groans as you climb the steps and let yourself into his side of the duplex. Cigarette smoke greets you with a cough in your throat. You open the window he shut in your absence as the TV blares in the next room. He's on the couch, puffing tobacco into the air in gray swirls. The place is even grimmer after a day amid your client's spotless halls.

"Hey dad," you say as you stand just beside the couch, "how was your day?"

He grunts and offers nothing else. That's about what you get from him. The effort of just that noise sends him to hack and his wrist tangles in his oxygen tube as brings his hand up. He knocks ash from the end of his cigarette onto the floor.

"First day alone went well," you say as he settles, breathing loudly as he tries to steady his breaths. "Think I did pretty good."

"Oh, big whoop, got a job, at last," he sneers, "about time. What're you? Thirty-three?"

"Thirty," you correct him, but don't add that your birthday is coming up.

"Same difference," he croaks and sucks on the smoke until he's coughing once more.

You try not to let him defeat you. It's just the way he is. You brought home A's from school and he wondered why they weren't A+'s. And when you got accepted to college, he asked you who was gonna pay for it. And when you filled out an application at the drive-thru window, he asked you if you were going to be another deadbeat flipping burgers.

"What, they got you scrubbing floors?" He spits, "you don't do it for free or something?"

He looks around venomously. You do clean but you can't get the yellow stains out of the wall or the stench out of the carpet. You won't say so.

"Did you eat yet?"

"Can't be near the stove with this thing," he taps the top of the tank on the other side of the armrest. He's also not supposed to smoke near it. Or at all.

"I'll heat up the hamburger helper from last night."

"Fucking dog food," he barks.

You wince. You love your father but he's a very picky man. Things must be his way or no way at all.

"Might have a frozen pizza," you suggest.

"Cardboard," he mutters.

You stand, silent and helpless. There isn't much else left in the fridge.

"Could afford better if you'd got your ass up ten years ago," he buts out his smoke and just as quickly, opens the pack to slide out another.

"I tried..."

"Not hard enough, eh," He takes off the oxygen tube and leans away from the tank to light the next cigarette, "not hungry. All your talkin' spoiled my appetite."

You apologise and leave before you can annoy him further. You're not very hungry either. Just sore and tired. Your feet hurt from being on them all day and your eyelids droop lower with each blink. You climb the stairs and drag your feet into your bedroom and shut the door gently. Your father hates when you slam. You don't like it much yourself.

You fall into bed as the musty air clings in your nose. You close your eyes and roll onto your side. You sigh. You figure if you can handle your father, you can handle Mr. Laufeyson and his list.

🧹

Your next job is in the eastside. It's not as precise or overbearing. The instructions are standard; a list of the rooms that need cleaning and a tip left on the counter. The email says the family is out of town. How nice it must be to come home to a nice, clean house. You pad out the three-day week with two more home in the northwest suburbs. The money would be better if you could work a full week but so long on you're in your probation period, you only get part-time hours.

Your second week starts again in the north, outside the Laufeyson property. The codes are different but the list is the same. You begin your work diligently. This time, you ration your water, and pay special attention to each step. Once you're through this week, you get your first check. Dad should be happy about that.

As you get to the front room, a living room or what some might call den, you set first to dusting the ornaments on the high mantel. You find the more you do it, the work is almost soothing. It's simple and mindless. You admire the silver candlestick, careful not to loosen the tall candle placed in it.

"Shiny," the slither frightens you. You quickly replace the candlestick at the corner of the mantle and face that man; the presumed Mr. Laufeyson. "Somehow, I feel it wouldn't belong in wherever you call home."

You lower your eyes. Florence says most clients are friends but she warned you about these ones. Those who deride you and the work they don't want to do themselves.

"The previous one did think they were lovely," he muses as he struts forward, his long steps like a cat's, "too bad they were too big for her bag."

You flick your gaze back up and blanch. "Sir, I wouldn't--"

He tilts his head as his eyes flash dangerously. You snap your mouth shut and give an apologetic frown. You press a finger to your lips to say, I'll be quiet.

"She was chatty too. You girls always are."

You nod and listen. Your throat constricts as you wring the cloth in your hands. You think you might not be very forgiving if someone tried to steal from you either.

"But..." he looks at his watch, "you are quick."

The comment drips from his mouth as if it tastes bitter to him. It isn't quite praise, only a fact, but it isn't a reproach. He smirks and snickers.

"And you do look rather terrified. We're understood then."

You give another nod. You think you understand. You wouldn't think to steal but you can't blame him for putting down rules. You squint and your brow twitches as your ears tinge.

"Point one C," you whisper to yourself; 'Do not steal.'

He pauses as he goes to pivot on his heel. He lifts his chin and shifts as if he might look at you. He doesn't as he carries on to the door.

"You may refill your bottle once per shift," he pauses by the door, tapping the frame before he leaves you.

You stay stuck to the floor, wavering as you watch him go. He wasn't nice, but he didn't dismiss you either. You can stomach his disapproval if it means you still have work.

[mochiepie]

Sukuna's Temptation

I have changed some part of the story according to my preference, as it is based on my perspective. It's just a fiction and i ain't following the arcs/actions/happenings of the manga.

Part-2

Characters involved :- Ryomen sukuna/reader🦋

( reader seduces sukuna, uses of abusive words, small amount of sex#al actions, Smut would be in the part 2 )

Heian era period

Sorcerers were fighting The king of curses "sukuna" all by themselves. Sukuna has attacked

The village again due to the rebellion of the village people against him.

Backstory :-

Few sorcerers entered this infamous Rich village only to know that, this village was living under the terror of sukuna and they are forced to send sacrifices to sukuna as he is their "king". The village was rich and prosperous only because sukuna favoured them. And that's why the villagers weren't ready to rebel against sukuna. The sorcerers couldn't accept that women were getting sacrificed every month just for the village to stay alive. The sorcerers managed to give hopes to the villagers somehow and assured them that they would defeat sukuna and give them back their freedom. But in order to defeat Sukuna they must bring sukuna here out of his hideout. Nobody knew where he lived, so to do it so, the ritual of sacrifices must be stopped, that would cause sukuna to notice it. And then.. sukuna would come to check it.

This was the plan of the sorcerers. Little they knew about the power difference between them and the "King of curses".

Present time -

Sorcerers were dying one by one. Sukuna was walking on their body as if they were some sacks of rice. Half of the population in the village vanished within 2 seconds. Rest of remaining ones were bowing and begging "him" to stop, to show mercy on them. The leftover sorcerers even started to begg, they lost their pride, the greed to live was now controlling their minds, as they knew.. it was death who was standing infront of them. The death was dressed as the king of curses.

Sukuna :- you, filthy ungrateful creatures sought to rebel against me? ( Disbelief)

Villagers:- i-i-t wasn't us my lord.. th-this sorcerers were fueling us.. they-They blackmai- us ( incoherent cries and begging)

Sukuna looked over to the dead bodies of the sorcerers. A slight feeling of pride entering his body as he took a good look of this sight.

Sukuna:- 70 sorcerers.. hah. 70 sorcerers came to fight me and.. died within 5 mins. ( Smirks)

Villagers:- we- we shall follow your command my lord. Please forgive our sin. You shall take anything from us, but just let us live my lord. We will never ever think of committing such a sin again my lord. If any of us even thinks of doing such sin, we shall cut their head and send it to you my lord.

Sukuna:- oh my! You seem to be great at giving assurance hah? ( Looks at them with an amused look) I see. Fine.. i shall forgive you all~ bu-

Sukuna's sentence was cutt off in between by the sudden entry of the woman, who lunged at sukuna hitting him with a powerful cursed energy infused kick on his back. The villagers were shocked, their eyes almost gauging out of their sockets. They couldn't believe a human.. moreover a woman having the guts to attack him.

Sukuna was taken back.. he made sure he killed all sorcerers right? Then how come 1 survive, and how did he not feel his presence? He got up from the ground asap to turn around and see... A woman?

His eyes were... Wide open as if stucked.

" not just a woman, this one was.. intriguing" he smirked at his thought

Sukuna:- my my, the audacity you had little mortal. Tell me, you really think you can fight against me?

( looking at her body up & down )

Y/n:- bow down and leave before I cut you into pieces and feed you to the hyenas you insignificant creature!

Sukuna:- ( amused) oh my my... Look at the little mouse. Ain't your words much bigger then your whole body? Speaking alot more then your capacity hah? ( Grins) well then.. I shall slit that mouth of yours right now to.. remind you how to talk with someone superior (smirks)

Sukuna lunges towards y/n, he was all ready to slash her. Y/n dodged easily and stood behind him, she wrapped her legs and used one of his four arms to stabilise herself. She grabbed his neck and started to place little kitten licks on his neck. Sukuna froze at the moment he felt the wetness of her tongue. His body giving up. He felt the touch of plenty of women.. but.. this woman.. was intriguing him, luring him, and moreover even rebelling against him to fighting him.. and now? Now seducing him in the middle of the fight? Thoughts occupied his mind. He was lost into the pleasure of feeling her tongue. He groaned in satisfaction. His hands finding her to pull her infront of him. Y/n still didn't leave licking his neck, she still kept on sucking and licking his jawline, to neck, to his collarbone. He was just groaning. The villagers were in shock to see such a lewd scene. They began to talk and whisper amongst themselves which brought sukuna back to reality. He pushed y/n off his embrace, causing her fly over quite far.

Sukuna:- think you can use your body to lure me? You stink, fukin whore. Not even my lowest level of curses would want your loose stinky pussy ( furious yet disappointed that the pleasure was taken from him )

Y/n:- is that so? ( Smirks) then why were you groaning my little babyy ? ( Taunts)

Sukuna was taken a back. His pride was hurt. His ego was trembling. Sukuna lunged towards her again aiming at her mouth to slash. She dodged again but this time.. she landed a hard kick on his head. Sukuna's fighting technique was deteriorating due to his mind filling with lust and desparation for this unknown woman and at the same time his pride and ego being hurt.

Sukuna was about to stand up but y/n sat on his back.

( like this lmao 🤣)

Backstory of Y/n :-

she was a sorcerer but her curse energy wasn't high, so due to being weak she used her body to seduce and lure so that she would get some time to find the weak spots of her enemies and hit on it on the right time. For her survival she had chosen this path, she was a resident of this village and she was against the process of sacrifices. To end this terror of sukuna, she finally managed her guts and will power to fight him she knows that she can't defeat him. But she is buying some time as her fellow sorcerers will arrive anytime soon in the village to help her. That's why, she is trying her best to seduce him and keep him intrigued on her. )

Y/n began her seduction tricks on him. She scratched on sukuna's kimono resulting his kimono to shred into few pieces. She began to lick on his ear.. " don't you want me.. my king?"

End of this chapter. Next chapter coming soon.

[sooniebby]

Can I ask for a completely separate fic of Riki and M!reader not in the same universe but just like a non canonical thing of where M!reader begs Riki to try and impregnate him because his stomach is feeling all weird and achy. M!reader doesn’t know it’s his heat all he knows is that he wants his children.

Fic ends with the reader pregnant ofc, breeding mink, biting, dumbification, go crazy on it. If you don’t plan to make any side fic of Riki that aren’t canonical to the main 2 parts then u can ignore this <333

ఌ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐘

꧁ 𝙊𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

➤ Riki's story (but this isn't canon to the original plot)

Word count › 2.9k

Rating › NSFT

Warnings › you and Riki are morons

Kinks › a/b/o, breeding, biting, lite somno

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＢＥＧＩＮＮＩＮＧ

(Name) had been feeling weird. He woke up tired and his head was hurting. When he went downstairs, he saw his parents and instantly wanted to throw up.

“Mom…”

“What (Name)? I have somewhere to be.” His mother answered, not even sparing him a glance.

You’d think a mother would pay attention to her child. Especially a child that sounded so weak but she focused solely on her phone. (Name) sighed to himself before walking away to the kitchen. She didn’t even try to stop him.

(Name) ignored his father. His father was worse when it came to paying him any mind. He rummaged through the fridge for something but nothing was appealing. If he had to be honest, they all made him feel sick.

His stomach was hungry but not for whatever was in the fridge.

“Dad, I’m not feeling well.” (Name) said. “And everything in the fridge is making me feel sick.”

“And what can I do about that? You’re 18. An adult. Go buy some medicine and food that you want.” His father said, walking away.

(Name) didn’t even feel sad. He knew what type of answer he was going to get. The sound of the door slamming was music to (Name)’s ears. He loved whenever they left. But he didn’t feel happy right now.

His stomach was cramping. And he didn’t know what it was.

Maybe he should’ve paid more attention to anatomy lessons for omegas and alphas. Now that he was an omega and all.

The only thing on his mind, besides his killer headache, was to go see Riki. His inner omega was whining for it. But he wasn’t sure why. Maybe he just needed some comfort. Yeah, getting some cuddles sounded great right now.

With that, (Name) sluggishly got ready to go see his alpha. The bus ride felt odd. People kept staring at him. He wasn’t used to the stares. Being a beta since he was a child, most people ignored him.

He wondered if his scent was finally coming in. Did it smell bad? He didn’t think too much of it when he finally reached Riki’s house. It was smaller than his own but still cozy the last time he visited.

(Name) rang the doorbell, feeling himself sweat into his shirt. It was sticking to his skin now. But the sun was hardly out. It looked as if it would rain in an hour or so. (Name) wanted to take a cold shower.

The door opened showing a sleepy Riki. Wow, he was still asleep this late? It had to be almost 1 pm now. Riki seemed to wake up a bit when he realized it was (Name). He pulled him inside quickly and held him close, leaning down to scent him.

(Name) still didn’t feel much from scenting. But he allowed Riki to do so. He knew Riki’s alpha loved doing it. (Name) closed the door behind himself as Riki pulled him over to the living room.

They plopped down onto the couch as Riki moved (Name) around to sit on his lap. Riki’s voice was muffled as he muttered something before focusing on scenting his omega. (Name) simply nipped at Riki’s mating bond, not knowing how to fully scent someone yet.

“You feel warm.” Riki said.

“I think I have a fever…”

“Oh, did you take anything?”

(Name) shook his head. Riki huffed before standing up, ignoring (Name)’s shriek as he quickly wrapped his legs around his waist to not fall. Riki only had to use one hand to hold (Name) up as he brought him to his room, laying him down on the bed.

“Sleep. I’ll make some porridge.”

(Name) hummed as Riki left his room. Having been in his room before, (Name) didn’t care too much to look around. He mainly focused on stripping his clothes off and moving the sheets around to make a makeshift nest.

He wasn’t sure how he knew how to make one. It was probably just an omega instinct. With just his boxers on, (Name) finally felt cool. His stomach was still cramping—getting more painful by the minute.

Was it something he ate last night? (Name) sighed as he took off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand. He wanted to just sleep the pain away. Getting comfortable, (Name) hugged a pillow to his chest and drifted off to a dreamless slumber.

But it wasn’t fully dreamless. In passing, he dreamt of Riki’s neck. An odd dream. What was so sexy about a neck? A few other times, he dreamt of what Riki would look like shirtless.

A groan left (Name) as he tried to dream of something other than being horny. But it didn’t work. Anytime he dreamt of something more wholesome with Riki, it ended with Riki pulling off his clothes. (Name) was beginning to feel hot again.

His skin was burning that even the fan that was turned on didn’t do anything to calm him down. The sheets felt too warm but whenever he pushed them away, he felt panicked. Like he couldn’t part with it for some odd reason.

“(Name)…”

A cool hand brushed his forehead as he sighed in relief. Finally, he felt himself cool down. The hand moved to his neck, feeling around before pulling away. (Name) whined at the lost.

“Your fever as gotten worse. Let me call my mom.” Riki’s distant voice was heard.

That only made (Name)’s stomach clench tightly, causing him to scream out. Riki didn’t get far as he quickly grasped (Name)’s arm, trying to shake him awake.

But (Name) didn’t scream again. His face that was twisted into one of agony was calm. Riki sighed in relief and moved his hand away only for (Name) to cry again.

Riki decided to test something. He touched (Name), noticing how calm he was before pulling away. Like clockwork, (Name) began to whine at the lost.

This didn’t make much sense to Riki. What type of fever worked like this? None that he knew. Riki glanced at the porridge on his desk. He’d force (Name) to eat it later. Riki gently pushed (Name) further on the bed before joining him, keeping a hand on his skin.

The first hour or so was fine. Riki even fell back asleep. (Name) work up with a start, wondering where he was. He didn’t even remember waking up. He glanced around the room before noticing Riki snuggled close to him.

Oh. When did he get here? (Name) hummed as he rubbed his stomach. It was still cramping but it didn’t hurt as much. It felt more like a very light burn. But it didn’t feel like hunger.

He should’ve been hungry since he didn’t eat this morning. (Name) sat up, wanting to go get something to eat before feeling something wet. He didn’t even notice he was naked. Well he still had his boxers on but it was wet.

(Name) pulled off his boxers, tossing them across the room as he looked down at the bed sheets. It was also wet but how? He gently touched it. It was sticky. He frowned.

What did he pee glue? What the fuck was this?

“Riki.”

Riki didn’t wake up.

(Name) groaned. He felt sticky, hot, and uncomfortable. A bath would be nice but he didn’t feel comfortable just using Riki’s shower without asking. They may be mates but they haven’t known each past a month yet.

They hadn’t even had sex yet.

(Name) was ready to just shake Riki awake when he felt his spine tingle. He gasped, feeling something wet gush out of his asshole. Slick?! Why was he producing slick? (Name) reached down to confirm, feeling the slimy wet slick that he produced the day Riki had bit his scent gland.

Was he going into heat? No way. His doctor said he had two weeks before it started. So his body can ready itself for it. (Name) sighed to himself. He must’ve been horny due to those weird dreams he had.

Riki wouldn’t mind him masturbating, right…?

(Name) easily slipped in one finger inside of his asshole, groaning at the sudden gush of slick. Why was he feeling like this? He thought having something inside would feel better but that only caused his stomach to ache. As if it wasn’t what it wanted.

He glanced over at Riki, looking down at his boxers. (Name) felt his inner omega purr at the sight of Riki. He thought about waking him up. His body wasn’t liking his fingers. It wanted his alpha.

In his head, the thought of being knotted slipped in. (Name) felt his hole clench around his finger. He liked the thought of that. To be knotted by his mate.

(Name) moved to straddle Riki, sitting himself on top of his boner. Riki didn’t even flinch. He really was a deep sleeper. (Name) knew how to wake him up. He gripped Riki’s boxers and pulled them down, allowing his cock to pop out freely. It rested against Riki’s stomach, twitching slightly.

Riki had a large cock. No denying that. But it wasn’t too surprising. Most alphas had large cocks. Riki’s cock was thick as well. He wanted it inside, quickly.

Yeah, that’s what his stomach needed. He needed to be breed. (Name) felt himself shudder at the thought of being stuffed full with Riki’s come. The idea of having pups.

(Name) grasped Riki’s cock and positioned it at his awaiting hole. He slowly lowered down, gasping at the burn. His slick worked overtime to make it less painful.

“(Name).”

“Huh?!” (Name) shrieked, accidentally slamming himself down onto Riki’s cock. He cried at the feeling, his cock cumming. Riki simply hummed, reaching to grab (Name)’s hand.

“You couldn’t wake me up?”

“Sorry…”

“It’s fine. I’m your alpha right? So my cock is yours to use,” Riki grinned. He had actually been awake ever since (Name) flung his boxers off. The boxers had actually ended up on his face instead of where (Name) had imagined.

His moves were way too sluggish to actually fling something. Riki had woken up due to the slick directly in his nostrils. He pushed it away and was about to call out to (Name) until he noticed (Name) fingering himself.

He wanted to watch, so what? Only an idiot wouldn’t like to see someone they liked masturbate.

“I feel so weird.”

“Your fever?”

Watanabe Riki was a dumbass. As well as Tanaka (Name). Only total idiots couldn’t tell the signs of a heat. But only idiots would bond themselves to the other after knowing each other for a total of two weeks.

“Maybe you should eat.”

“No. I wanna have sex.” (Name) hummed.

“Alright. You’ll eat after.” Riki said, easily flipping (Name) over to lay on his back. (Name) watched in glee as Riki grasped his legs and pushed them forward, to (Name)’s ears. Riki’s thrusts at first were slow and calculated.

It made sense. To him, (Name) was sick. He didn’t want to go too harsh. He focused on mainly rubbing against (Name)’s prostate—enjoying the soft moans he got. The sound of slick was filling be room, making (Name) feel embarrassed.

He didn’t know why he was dripping so much slick. But it wasn’t enough. It felt nice but it wasn’t what his omega was craving.

“Riki, faster.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

(Name) whined, hoping his puppy eyes would persuade his mate. Riki only leaned down and nipped at his pouting lips.

“Cute.”

“Riki….! C’mon!!”

“Why do you want it so rough?” Riki asked, picking up his pace. It was still slow but at least it wasn’t too slow. (Name)’s inner omega purred in delight.

“My body wants it rough. An omega thing.”

“Really?”

No, it wasn’t. (Name) was just talking out of his ass. And Riki was a bit stupid to not notice. He was pretty horny himself and didn’t like his pace either. But (Name)’s comfort mattered more to him.

“I can handle it. I’ll tell you to stop.” (Name) wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him close. Riki hummed. He still wasn’t too sure. But the tight wet heat of (Name)’s ass felt good.

He really wanted to cum. And no way could he cum from these piss poor thrusts. Riki leaned back, grasping (Name)’s legs tightly and began to pick up his pace.

His thrusts were harsh and fast, repeatedly aiming for (Name)’s prostate. (Name) cried out, clawing at Riki’s shoulders. He arched his back at the feeling.

“(Name), it’s my first time… is it yours?”

(Name) shook his head. “No…”

Riki’s thrusting stopped. “Huh?”

“Riki, why’d you stop?”

“Who was it?”

(Name) glared at him. “It was two years ago! C’mon, don’t stop.”

Riki growled. “Did you enjoy it?” He began ti thrust again, his grip on (Name)’s legs harsh. (Name) stared up at him in confusion. Why did he care so much?

He was mated to him. He belonged to him.

“No. We were both betas…”

Any sort of anger within Riki quickly disappeared. A smile appeared on his lips. “You should’ve said so. No beta can compare to an alpha.” His cock dragged against (Name)’s wet walls, aiming continuously at his prostate.

(Name) mewled. “Why’s, ngh, that?”

Riki smirked. He maneuvered (Name) to lay on his side and have one of his leg’s on his shoulder. This position gave total control to Riki as he seemed to reach even deeper inside of him. It felt as if he was even reaching his stomach, judging by the small bulge in his stomach.

“No beta can knot their omega. Give them pups.” Riki grabbed (Name)’s right arm and brought it to his lips, biting down at the skin. It hurt, his canines digging into his skin. But (Name)’s inner omega jumped for joy. An alpha biting your skin with their canines meant you were truly theirs.

And (Name) really did belong to Riki. Riki left multiple sharp bites on (Name)’s arm, a few stringing out small amount of blood.

“No beta can make an omega dumb off their cock.” Riki suddenly said, slamming his cock deep inside (Name). (Name) cried out, his cock once again cumming on his stomach. He didn’t think he could handle much more.

At least his cock couldn’t. But his hole, his inner omega?

Oh, it could go all night.

And Riki seemed to know that.

“Do you want my knot, Omega?”

“Won’t I… hngh! Won’t I get pregnant?”

“You shouldn’t. I’m not in my rut.” Riki gently bit the leg on his shoulder, glancing down at (Name)’s shaking form. (Name)’s eyes were dilated. He truly felt gone mentally at this point.

All he could think about was being knotted.

And if Riki was right, he wanted it badly. But a small side of him felt disappointed. He wanted to get pregnant. His rational side was screaming at him not to but his omega side purred at the idea of being filled with pups.

“Inside, Alpha. Please, knot me with your cum.”

Riki grunted, flipping (Name) over again to rest on his knees, face on the pillow. (Name) cried at this, not wanting to face the headboard. He wanted to look at his mate but when Riki slammed back inside, he clenched down tightly around his cock.

This position was the best out of the other two. Riki’s cock kissed his stomach (womb) with ease. His prostate was constantly brushed against—earning cries from him with ease.

Riki gripped his waist tightly, holding him close once his knot began to swell. (Name) mewled at the knot brushing against his prostate. Riki leaned down to rest on (Name)’s back as he bit his scent gland, using his canines. (Name) felt himself black out at the pleasure, a scream off his lips.

As (Name) felt himself get tired, Riki slammed in one last time, right against his prostate. His knot released, filling (Name)’s hole with his cum. It felt warm inside. But it wasn’t a small load. It seemed Riki’s load was pretty big.

(Name) felt overwhelmed. He didn’t think an alpha could cum so much. It also didn’t help that the knot was rested nicely against his prostate. Whenever the knot swelled to release another batch of cum, it stimulated his prostate.

He mewled each time, gripping the bed sheets underneath him. Riki sighed as he left small bite marks on his back. He was tired. He wanted to fall back asleep but knew if he did that, he’d crush (Name) beneath him.

Riki moved to lay on his side, holding (Name) close. His cock had finally stopped cumming but his knot was still swelled. It’d take a minute for it to go down. This was mainly for the cum to stay inside, making sure the omega’s womb took every last drop.

But (Name)’s womb wasn’t ready for pregnancy yet, anyway. At least the doctor said so.

(Name) hummed. The cramps he was feeling was long gone. Who knew sex could help so much. He glanced down at his stomach to see a small bulge there. It looked to be from the cum. He felt himself purr at the thought.

He didn’t know why he suddenly felt excited at the thought of being breed so full.

The two idiots fell asleep, holding the other close.

But six weeks later, when (Name) felt nauseous, Riki was swiftly slapped by his mother and was called an idiot. Yeah, (Name) was pregnant.

He guess he should start looking online for baby names. It felt as if it wasn’t about to be one pup.

(Name) just wasn’t sure how to tell his parents.

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＥＮＤ

Riki’s a bad boy, not a smart boy :/

It was so fun writing fluff for Riki tho since the original story isn’t there yet

Thx for the request!!

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @mello-life69 @chill-guy-but-cooler @kiiyoooo @nakedtoasterr

(Ask to be added to the tag list/you’ll be tagged in every fic I post)

[holylulusworld]

Two bikes (2)

Summary: You’re back in your hometown and meet two men from your past.

Pairing: former Jax Teller x fem!Reader (pre-story), Biker!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Warnings: smitten Bucky, fluff, light/implied smut scene

A/N: I wanted Jax and Biker!Bucky in one fic. So suffer with me…

Two bikes (1)

Two bikes masterlist

He moves slowly but with enough strength to punch the air out of your lungs. You gasp with every powerful thrust, torn between lust and regret.

How could you end up in his arms? How could you let him fool you again?

“I knew you’d feel this good, baby,” he groans in your neck. His body presses yours into the mattress and you are glad that he can’t see your face.

You’re close to tears because of your bad decision of getting close to the man breaking your heart more than once.

If only he chanted your name when you were not tangled in each other. If only he meant the words he whispers in your ear while taking you apart.

You know better, and still, you fell for him again.

“Look at you, all fucked out,” he groans with the last thrust. He is still on top of you, his face buried in your neck long after he came inside of you. You feel his chest pressed against your back, so close that it feels like you are one person. “Shit, you gave me another one.”

He finally slips out of you, huffing as you do not move. “That was amazing,” he says while already looking for his pants. “Uh-maybe you should head home. It’s getting late and I’d hate for you to walk in the dark.”

“I-“ your voice fails. How can he be a passionate and sweet lover one moment, and the next he turns into the selfish asshole you know so well. “You’re right.”

You slip out of bed to grab your clothes and throw them on. He watches you hastily dress with amusement. “You can go slow. Give me a little show.”

“Fuck you,” you snap at him. You walk out of the room, your jacket, bag, and one shoe tugged under your arm to get away from the next mistake you made. “How could I have been so stupid?”

You walk away, ignoring passersby watching you walk along the sidewalk with only one shoe on. Your apartment isn’t far away from his place, and you are too out of it to put your second shoe on.

You’re more running than walking when you see your building. With your last strength, you spring toward the building and unlock the door with shaking fingers.

You stare at the word count before rereading the words. “That’s awful. A bad sex scene and the angst doesn’t hit right.” You rub your tired eyes. “Three hours and I only got three hundred and eighty lousy words. You’ve got to be kidding me, Y/N.”

Slamming the laptop shut you sigh deeply. Of course, your personal experience is always a good inspiration, but not this time. You want to start this book with a perfect opening, so the reader doesn’t want to put the book away until they read every single sentence.

“What do we do?” you hide your face in your hands and sigh again. Since the day you met Jax again, your mood turned sour.

You believed coming back to your hometown would spark your inspiration. Instead, you got your heart broken by the very same man causing you to leave town years ago.

“Fuck, I need to come up with something better than this shit.”

You’re about to give up when your phone starts ringing. Reluctantly you leave your unfinished first chapter to answer the call. “Hello, this is…”

You don’t get to tell your name before Bucky calls you doll. “Hey, doll,” he chuckles when you squeak a hello. “I wanted to tell you that I fixed your car. You can get it this afternoon if you want to.”

“That would be great, James,” you smile to yourself. Hearing Bucky’s voice saved you from despairing over your first chapter. “I can be there at five, is that okay?”

“No, no doll,” he stops you before you can say more. “I’ll pick you up, doll. I can’t let you walk or take the bus. And please, stop calling me James. My father called me that when I did something stupid. I hate it.”

“Did he call you James often?” you tease. “I bet he did because you did something stupid all the time. Like smoking or driving too fast.”

“Ma’am, I’m a responsible driver, and I do not smoke,” he replies, but you hear the joke in his words. “Maybe I like a good drink, but that’s all. Oh, and don’t worry. I don’t drink and drive.”

“I can call a taxi, Bucky. You don’t have to pick me up,” you try not to owe Bucky another favor. He refused to take money from you for repairing your car. That’s more than enough.

“Doll, if we want to stay friends,” he tries to sound serious, but chuckles, “you’ll accept a ride on my bike, miss. I’ll pick you up at five pm sharp. Please wear something…nice.” He laughs when you mutter into the phone. “Nah, just kidding. Come as you are, Y/N. That’ll be enough.”

“Fine, but I’ll pay you back somehow.” He makes an odd noise but plays it cool. “Oh! I know. I’ll devote the first chapter of my new book to you, Mr. Barnes.”

“A new book!” He gasps. “Will it be about the same woman? Another part of your series? Please say yes.”

You’re surprised Bucky knows your books. “Yes, and no. I try to…I don’t know.” You huff. “I want her to have a fresh start, just like me. Old habits die hard, but it’s time. If you know what I mean.”

“I know damn well what you mean, doll. I’ll pick you up at five and we can talk about that fresh start some more…”

“Here,” Bucky holds a leather jacket in his hands. It’s too small to be his, and you frown. “I got you a jacket, so you won’t freeze.” He grins when you glance at the jacket.

“Bucky, I’m not your old lady,” you point out, knowing about the traditions of bikers.

“Not yet,” he retorts. Bucky helps you into the jacket, and a big smile on his face when he zips it up. “Looks good on you, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes. He’s very charming, but you know the flirty banter will turn into something more if you don’t stop him. But…do you want to stop him?

“I got you a helmet too,” he grabs the helmet and helps you to put it on. He taps it twice and grins. “Perfect. Now we can go for a ride…”

Bucky gets on his bike, planting his feet on the ground to steady it. He holds out his hand to help you get on the back of his bike.

“Hang on, baby. I don’t want you to fall off my bike.” He smirks when you laugh. “You can hold tight onto me, Y/N. I won’t mind.”

You hesitate for a second. This situation is a little too familiar for your liking. You look at his back, reading the wrong club’s name on it. “Howling Commando,” you whisper.

“Is everything alright,” Bucky asks. “We can wait if you’re scared of driving in the back.”

“No,” you shake the memories of the past off and wrap your arms tightly around Bucky. “All good, Bucky. We can go.”

He starts the engine, ignoring he can feel you pressed against him. If he gets too distracted by your closeness, he’ll crash his bike with you in the back. And that’s the last thing he wants to do…

Tags in reblog.

[stinmybubs]

" Doing It For ME." Pt.3

Summery: The quirkless girl finally moving on. A new path ahead of her, her own that she can carve out, instead of following behind her first love Izuku Midoriya. But nothing ever stays. And its time to say goodbye to the Bakugou Family.

WARNING: PTSD Attack!!!

M. Izuku x AFAB! Reader x B. Katsuki

Pt.1 | Pt.2

Katsuki Bakugou. He is horrible at expressing he is horrible at expressing his emotions, when he first saw you, sitting there all alone on the bench he couldn't help but pity you, especially after the day he had he felt nice so he let you in.

Slowly but surely your presence became something he needed, it didn't help that you always hung around Izuku all day which pissed him off, but in the end you always came home with him.

But now that school is over, you looking for jobs and a good high school while he was getting into UA, he was afraid you two would drift. That he would loose you.

Katsuki Bakugou loved you. He never will admit it, he never will say it but he knew he did. But seeing you crying and hugging Deku on the last day of school made him livid, to the point where he couldn't even look at you for days.

His jealousy was his downfall.

You, oblivious to his love, you were confused why the rowdy boy was ignoring you at home. It disheartened you, he was the only thing you had left. This home was the only thing you had left.

“Hey! Katsu? You’ve been ignoring me I just-“ you followed him into his room, shutting his door so you could have this private talk with you. What startled you was him suddenly slamming you against the wall, hands gripping your shoulders.

“Ah! Katsu- that hurts..” you wince confused at his sudden aggression. “Stop botherin’ me…how about you go to your lover Deku so you two can be a happy quirkless couple.” Katsuki grinding his teeth, the grip on your shoulder tightened.

“Wha-what’s are you talking about!? Stop it you’re hurting me!” You could feel your heart begin to race, memories of your father beginning to flash through your mind until all you saw was your father standing in front of you.

Your body filled with fear, tears welling into your eyes as your breathing begins to quicken. “Please…” you couldn’t breath. You started to panic and you started to struggle. Wriggling around so he would try and let you go.

Katsuki’s anger and jealousy consumed him, not realizing what he was doing to you until he saw your face morph into a horrified look. A look you have your father the last day you saw him. Shit. Katsuki quickly released you realizing you were starting to have a PTSD attack.

“Hey..- hey it’s okay. Shit Y/n I’m sorry!” You collapsed to the floor and begin to crawl away, struggling to get back on your feet and out the door.

“Y/n!” You couldn't hear Katsuki, all you heard was your father yelling. You felt like a kid again, the day after you found out you couldn’t develop a quirk. Your father had slammed you into a wall screaming curses at you.

You quickly run into the bathroom, trying your best to make yourself smaller in the bathtub. Trying your best to keep your crying as quiet as possible. Crying until you passed out in the tub.

You and Mitsuki were packing your things, preparing you for the hospital.

“Thank you Mitsuki…for everything…for accepting me into your home. I just don’t think I can…” she cut you off hugging you. “It’s okay I understand.” Mitsuki began to tear up.

“Take care of yourself okay? Promise to keep in touch.” Mitsuki Bakugou. The mother you never had, she gave you the world, if only you could repay her.

Dragging your small luggage, you turn to look at Katsuki “it’s okay Katsu…it’s not you, I just need to work on…my...uh goodbye. Thank you so much, for everything.” You give him a big smile, wiping your tears before entering the bus.

Leaving everything behind.

Katsuki wished he could stop loving you.

He wished he had never let you in.

While in the hospital you had talked with various councilors about your future, giving you classes to see which course you wished to take while you were taking therapy. Diagnosed with PTSD, and Severe Anxiety disorder.

They said being a hero was out of the question, being quirkless and having PTSD of grown men being violent wouldn't mix well, so many factors were involved you didn't know if you could even have a future job anywhere. You needed a job that nothing to do with violence, was nowhere near the violence and where you could work on your own with no triggers around you.

"Have you ever thought of taking the support course? Inventors? You wouldn't have to interact with anyone as long as they put in a commission." Your head perked up, the sound of being helpful to Izuku from behind the scenes sounded like a dream.

"That sounds great! But...where do I start? I've never touched any sort of mechanics in my life!" You stated. Only being in the hospital for a few months, hearing from Mitsuki that Izuku and Katsuki had made it into UA.

"We can help you by setting up some classes, take it over this and you can transfer into a real high school when the time is right. Recovery is very important!"

So began your new passion, something of your own. Something you can do for yourself and for others! You finally can be useful for once in your life. But you decided that you didn't want your name out there at all, you wished to go under a hero like name, an alias.

Protea, a flower that represented strength, courage and resilience.

Time felt faster than ever, you spent your days hauled up in a garage making little gadgets and gizmos, taking everything Izuku had told you about hero's in consideration. It was almost like art, with a lot of welding and math.

This little hobby helped you move forward, but not forget. Something to keep your mind occupied was the healthiest thing you can think of, especially building your portfolio for the various support courses in the different schools. It was a shot in the dark but you submitted one for UA as well, you knew you couldn't do it but there wasn't any harm in trying.

Maybe you couldn't be Izuku's future, but you could help make a path for him.

From afar of course.

When your counselor brought the various envelopes from the schools you submitted your portfolio and application to. You were terrified, the fear of being rejected swallowed you whole.

"Deep breath Y/n, I know for a fact you'll get into one! Youve been doing a great job, and your progress has been amazing!" Your counselor placed the envelopes on the desk in front of you.

You let out a deep breath, slowly opening each one some were just regular letters and others were these flashy video tapes, the one you paid attention to the most was UA, your hopes were high wishing and praying that you hear the words of acceptance.

"Congratulations Y/n! You have been accepted into-!"

Your eyes widen, a smile creeping across your face.

I'll finally can make use of myself....

I can help!

AN: I imagine in this society certain hospitals are different and better! Mitsuki wanted you to have the best care! I used my own experience with PTSD and fear of men yelling in this! Thank you all so much Xoxo Stinmybubs! Also the school you think she's gonna get into might not be it. ;)