#How to get cursor back on laptop

[marblerose-rue]

ermmmm (sneak peek)

[k-hotchoisan]

hiiiii <333 I have lovedddd lovvvveeeddd alll of your works I actually spent my day reading each and everyone of them I love it so muchhh!! 😭❤️

I have a request teehee, could you write one where Sannie is like a professor in your college and there’s little teasing here and there and where he ends up having her alas!! DOM - SAN ‼️💋

his favourite

<prof!san x fem!reader>

Prof Choi likes playing favourites.

You’re his favourite.

Genres/Warnings: smut, dom professor Choi San, pwp, face fucking, unprotected sex, oral (m receive) ,mutual pining, age gap, size kink, cream pies, mild jealousy plot, sir kink, light bondage (just tying up reader) teasing, sexual tension, teaching assistantxteacher obv forbidden but we still eat it up anyway!

Word count: 12.3K

a/n: happy birthday to the man of my dreams </3 enjoy this little choi san birthday treat. i put my love into this so please love this as much as i did! and thank you @bro-atz for the tidbits of help as always 🩷

apply for taglist here!

You stare at the laptop screen, scanning through your details on the application form, double, and triple checking that everything was filled in correctly. 

“Which professors are you trying as a teaching assistant for?” Your roommate asks, her neck craning over to see you attaching the file to six different emails, to six different professors within the department, pretty much answering her question the moment she reads off each professor’s email. 

“Why not try for the department chair?”

You scrunch your eyebrows as if it’s the first time you’re hearing that. 

“Who?”

“Professor Choi?”

Your eyes widen, your neck almost getting whiplash from how fast you turned to your roommate at the sound of his name. 

“Why the fuck would I try him?” 

Your roommate shrugs in an attempt to hide her amused reaction from your reaction at his name. 

“Who knows? I’m confident he remembers you even though you spent only one semester with him”, she hums turning away to pour herself another ice drink from the pitcher. “On a serious note, you may as well just get all the help you can get. Besides, what are the chances that Prof Choi sees your email? He’s the department chair. I’m sure his mailbox is just flooded anyway.” 

True, you think to yourself, turning your head back to your laptop, and adding the professor’s email address in. But you still hesitate, staring at the application form, your cursor hovering over the send button. Your roommate looks over at you, and she decides that your wishy-washy behaviour is just being the biggest nuisance on earth, so her hand flies over yours and helps you to press send, and she watches you freak out at her while she giggles and escapes after committing her crime, chasing your roommate around the kitchen island for a good seven minutes.

Settling back down in defeat, you sigh in your hands, giving yourself pep talks. 

Right. 

The chances are close to zero that Prof Choi will see my application anyway. 

The chances of him remembering me are close to zero anyway. 

You shut your laptop, and the applications are completely erased from your mind. 

“Yo, check your emails, babe. The application results are out for me”, your roommate says, her eyes glued to her laptop screen. 

You settle yourself down across her, a chilled drink in your hand, pulling up your email inbox. As you expected, you see the subject headline ‘Teaching Assistant Application Results’, and you expand the email.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me”, you mutter, loud enough for your roommate to hear. Her head pops out from behind her screen. 

“Who did you get?”

“Choi San.”

Professor Choi San. His classes weren’t the bane of your existence—but he, himself was. 

And the fact that it only took one semester to solidify that claim. Almost everyone wanted to get into his class, so fucking many of them just squealing over how he looked almost god-like. You wonder how much of a swoon he would be, how much of the rumours that travelled down the stream were factual, though with thousands of students constantly fighting for a spot in his class, you sure were coloured surprised when you landed a spot in Professor Choi’s class. 

The moment he walked in, the whispers within the confines of the lecture hall erupted into gasps and squeals. Unfortunately, the rumours were right—the moment ProfessorChoi walked in, it was as if your eyes naturally followed his movement—confident strides in his steps dictated by his outfit—a simple dress shirt under a dark gray vest that accentuated his wide shoulders and skinny waist.  

He was so fucking handsome—his hair neatly slicked back, frameless glasses sat on his nose bridge, his sharp and small eyes hiding behind the lens. Undoubtedly, seeds of infatuation began lodging themselves in you. Well, it’s not like you had a chance with him anyway, especially when the gold band reflected from his ring finger being a huge indicator. Maybe keeping him as an eye candy would work out just fine. 

Prof Choi’s classes were interesting, and he as a professor, other than being a distraction during the majority of his classes, held his credentials. However, at times, some sarcastic comments would bubble to the surface, and even though he did tend to commend top-scoring students for tests, he still maintained professionalism for the most part—the content taught wasn’t rocket science anyway. You saw yourself being able to breeze through the syllabus for the most part until you received your grade for one of your essays. You stared at his comments, marked in red lines, circles, and words—tone cold and direct—not that you weren’t used to it, but this time? You felt his comments alongside him marking you down were completely unjustified. 

It was then that you pushed past the group of girls who would stay back after class to shamelessly flirt with him, under the guise of wanting to discuss more about the content taught that day, and you stood before the group, asking to speak to Prof Choi personally. Prof Choi did have people staying back after class to consult with him about grades, although they would stay shortly with him staying stern to his marking rubrics, but when he realised you weren’t backing down on top of the way you approached him so directly, it intrigued him.

His office was spacious, considering that he was the department chair—and without introductions, he had you dive in immediately in consultation. 

You wasted no time, flipping through the spent pages of your essay, pointing out areas where you felt his comments were unjustified. Prof Choi listened, and he refuted your points, some of which you decided to accept but not for one particular part;

“This part had no proper scientific support of your argument for this point-“

“Bullshit”, you cut him off. Prof Choi blinked, shocked at the blunt cut from you. His eyebrows were scrunched in confusion next, wondering if he heard right that a student not only just cut him off, but cussed at him.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s here. A small significance value is still something isn’t it?” You replied, pointing at the paragraph after. He glanced at the paper once more, forcing himself to focus while you fought back that your argument was supported. 

So you made Prof Choi sit before you and listen to your elaborations, and needless to say, he was rather impressed, although he had to hold his expression neutral. 

You came out of the consultation victorious—the day Prof Choi called you over after his class again, handing you your script, and you saw your total marks shooting up to a gorgeous score. Your head was so into the clouds that you returned a smirk along with a shrug—showing off your victory and satisfaction as your thanks—an I told you so, leaving the professor to stare after you in awe while you practically skipped to your seat. 

That sealed your fate. 

From then on, Prof Choi would have his attention on you—recognising which seat you picked to sit in in class, wondering why you hadn’t dared sit nearer. And when it came to picking people to answer questions, his gaze would fly to you immediately—either waiting to call you out once you raised your hand or simply calling you when he felt like it. For some sick reason, he finds the way your face scrunches up in stress when he calls your name in his honey-soaked voice amusing, and even adorable at times, though he would never admit it. But oh, did he love the comments and answers you would give him. 

Despite that assignment being the only one where you decided to consult Prof Choi, following every grade release of an assignment, he would single you out, especially after class, to fucking ask if you had questions regarding said assignment, which honestly started to freak you out—mostly because he never gave you the attention before, and you weren’t used to it. The whispering gossip in the class about you being the teacher’s pet slowly reached your ears too, and even Prof Choi heard it—and he only exacerbated that rumours by constantly giving you his attention. 

Every time you reached your dorm, the words that left your mouth which your roommate could recite verbatim, “I swear to god, Prof Choi has it out for me!”

Not to mention you were fucking relieved when the last day of his class rolled around, but unfortunately, his parting words to you were, “I’m sure I’ll see you around, y/n”. You did everything in your power to avoid getting into his class and even bumping into him, which seemed to work swell. 

Until now that is. 

Now here you are again, standing before the familiar heavy wooden door, staring up at the wooden plate, embossed with gold lettering “Department Chair Choi San” staring right at you. You had to physically drag yourself off your bed to prepare for the first day partnered with Prof Choi. And when your roommate’s words of “oh come on, he can’t be that bad. He’s hot!”, echoed through your ears, it all the more made you want to just ditch your first day by clawing your eyeballs out. 

You had to collect yourself before Prof Choi collected you. 

With a raised knuckle, you rap against the door, taking deep inhales in the process. His voice, which sounded deceivingly like honey, remained the same as you remembered. 

“Come in.”

You pause for a moment, embracing yourself before holding onto to doorknob and pushing his door open. 

There he was, Professor Choi, his eyes focused on the scripts on his desk, which had piled up. His space remained the same as you remembered, for the most part—shelves littered with awards and files, the same desktop taking up one-quarter of his huge ass desk, and the couch with the coffee table left to the side of the room. Prof Choi wore a stern look of concentration on his face, still preoccupied with finishing up marking his scripts. 

When his pen pauses and his gaze shifts towards the door, a small smile spreads across his face. He lifts his head and drops his pen, interlocking his fingers on his desk with growing amusement when his eyes meet yours. 

Fuck, he’s still so handsome.

“Professor Choi”, you greet, holding your expression neutral as you bow, forcing yourself not to fidget with your tote bag. 

“Y/n!” Prof Choi greets almost too enthusiastically. “I would assume you would be more than delighted when I picked you to be my teaching assistant.”

“Honoured, almost”, you reply. It’s taking all of your energy not to break his gaze. He’s staring at you with unreadable eyes, and you’re wondering if the fluttering in your chest is from the anxiety or the way Prof Choi is staring at you.

Prof Choi laughs, and it tickles your ears a little too good. 

“Sit. We have a lot to go through today”, he gestures to the seat before him, and you take it.

He switches on his monitor to his course syllabus and turns the monitor slightly towards you. 

“Oh, before we begin, it’s a pleasure meeting you again, y/n.”

Oh boy, was being Prof Choi’s teaching assistant a fucking handful. You knew it was gonna be rough, but to be assisting Professor Choi San? He was on another level—his schedule would be filled to the brim with meetings with the faculty on top of conducting classes weekly. You struggled in your first month, learning the ropes, especially from a busy and challenging professor like him. He wasn’t mean or cold at all, on the contrary, more direct and meticulous. Well, he had to be, considering his position. Nonetheless, it felt like he was always too busy to attend to your questions sometimes, and that would leave you to your own devices. 

You stand in the aisle, looking down at the assortment of foods lined up in the chiller. Has Prof eaten yet? Does he even eat? What does he even eat? By instinct, you pull out your phone and open his chat. 

[you]: Hi Prof. Have you eaten? I’m at the convenience store near the campus. I could grab something quick for you. 

A couple of minutes go by, but your phone doesn’t receive a ping, and you had to reach the office soon. So you pick up another tuna rice ball for the professor alongside yours before making a beeline for the cashier. 

Prof Choi hears the knock on his door and as usual, he utters his usual “come in”. His gaze lands on you, and he glances at the clock. 

“You’re on time today”, he points out. 

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. “I’m always on time, Professor.”

“You’re usually in a little earlier.”

“Right, because I got you this”, you reply, rustling through the plastic bag in your hands, fishing out the rice ball.

He looks up at you, confusion hinted in his expression. He doesn’t take the food yet. 

“What’s this?” 

“Tuna rice ball. Surely only having coffee in the morning is not filling your stomach.” 

You put the food in front of him. “Besides, I messaged you but you didn’t reply. So I just chose something safe. Unless you’re telling me you’re allergic to tuna or something.”

Prof Choi blinks. His hands reach out to take the snack from the desk, unwrapping the plastic packaging as he watches you leave his office to grab a mug of coffee. He glances over at his phone, and sure enough, your name is there with your message.

Since then, his reply would pop up in mere minutes whenever you asked him if he wanted anything to eat. 

Of course, the more you spent time with him, the more you grew comfortable, and all the thoughts you ever stressed about slowly faded off. Prof Choi grew more relaxed around you, internally grateful that you’re able to tank a significant fraction of his workload for him. Undoubtedly, you also come to realise that Prof Choi is human after all—he obviously would make mistakes, even as someone of his caliber, and deep inside, you found it rather cute, well, until you had to stop yourself from developing deranged thoughts. 

Not to mention, another problem seemed to pop up—his flirty banter. He likely picked up that it made you flustered sometimes, and since then, he wouldn’t let it go, relishing at the way pink creeps up your cheeks when he would say something that wasn’t like his ‘professor-self’, and at worst, feeding into your crooked thoughts. 

You stare at him as he types away, particularly, the metal band around his ring finger. You wonder who was the lucky lady who had the chance to be with him. You blink. 

What the hell were you thinking?

“It’s rude to stare, you know”, Prof Choi’s voice snapping you out of your daydreams. 

“I’m just wondering about your ring, that’s all”, you reply, forcing your attention back to your half-marked assignments.

“I’m not actually married”, he suddenly confesses, and for some reason, it makes your heart beat slightly faster. 

“Huh?” Is all you manage to reply. 

Prof Choi chuckles. He pauses his work on the desktop, turning his attention to you. Even though you have worked so closely with him for a while already, you can never seem to find your composure around him. 

Even though you see his face every week, you can’t seem to wrap your head around how insanely good-looking he is, how sometimes you struggle to maintain eye contact with him, because it doesn’t take long before you feel yourself slowly flushing. 

“I wear it on my ring finger so the students stop asking about my marital status”, Prof Choi clarifies. You watch him pull the ring from his ring finger and fit it over his index. 

“So you’re single”, you echo.

He nods, “I’m single.” 

What is this strange feeling of relief?

“What about you?” He suddenly asks. You’re not looking directly at him, and you don’t realise the way he’s looking at you attentively. And if you do, you just might combust.

“I’m…single too”, you answer, trying to meet his gaze, fidgeting with the red pen in between your fingers. 

“And why’s that? Too busy fighting with your professors for grades?”

You glare at him. 

“I think it was my professor picking fights with me”, you reply quickly, jabbing right back at him. 

You watch Prof Choi lower his gaze, a smile spreading across his cheeks—an actual smile—his dimples showing up. Oh fuck. Just when you thought you could depend on your ribcage to contain your heart properly, you found out Prof Choi could actually smile. 

When he looks up at you again, you break the eye contact, your gaze flying back to the papers before you. 

“You know, I’ve met many students, but you were the first to cuss out at me.”

You did? “I did?”

Your professor nods, cocking his eyebrow at the way you had seemed to have simply forgotten something as eventful as that. 

This time, Professor Choi bursts into a chuckle, completely amused by your reaction. 

“Is that why you kept-“

“Giving you chances to answer in class for credit? You should really thank me for that. Your grade for my class was one of the highest you know.”

You feel your cheeks flush. But before you can retaliate, Prof Choi cuts you off.

“Jokes aside, no. I think the discussion we had that afternoon had an impression on me. The cherry on top was you cussing at me. I liked that. Refreshing and endearing”, Prof Choi continues, his attention seeping back to the pile of scripts before him. 

“I think this side of Professor is pretty refreshing and endearing too”, you let it slip.

His pen pauses in mid-air. You don’t catch his gaze completely softening on you. 

As the semester continues on, you began easing into the class schedules. You watch prof get swarmed by a group of students, a usual ritual that happens right when the class ends. At this point, you had grown used to it. Sometimes the students would come and approach you instead, which honestly surprised you, but your heart would feel warm, knowing that these students trusted you.

It was then you became acquainted with another teaching assistant under Prof Choi, who joined shortly after you did—Choi Jongho. Initially, he came off as a rather shy individual, but the both of you warmed up quickly with each other, sharing the workload and bonding over gossip with each other. Gosh, was he fucking amazing with gossip, especially when it came to Professor Choi. Soon enough, the both of you were texting almost on a regular basis, the conversations weighing more towards academic topics sprinkled with a little gossip. 

“You’re going off with Choi Jongho?”

“Yeah”, you reply, bunching the papers in your hands. “I’ve got some things to discuss with him about.” Partially true. 

For some reason, even though your professor has been completely swamped with papers to grade and meetings to attend, you would always find him loitering around your desk from time to time. He seems to especially enjoy doing that when you’re around. 

“You’ve been spending an awfully lot amount of time with him”, Prof Choi points out, looking over your shoulder as he watches you scribble on another student’s paper. 

“Yeah, we get along well actually. Isn’t that a good thing, Prof? Both your teaching assistants are besties.”

For some reason, that makes Prof Choi frown, but you’re too absorbed in your work to notice it.

A couple of minutes go by, and you still feel his presence, not that you mind, but you’re starting to find it peculiar that he’s been hanging around your desk a lot recently.

“Do you have something to discuss with me, prof?” You ask, eyes still glued to the paper.

“Yes”, he replies, taking another sip from his mug. “What do you think of Choi Jongho?”

Such a random question to ask, you think. Maybe he’s just making sure you and Jongho get along well?

You pause, giving yourself to think, tapping the back of the red pen against your bottom lip, taken aback by Prof Choi’s sudden question, but the conversations you and Jongho had resurfacing into your brain, and a giggle escapes you, which makes Professor Choi subconsciously narrow his eyes and furrow his brows. 

“He’s fun to be around, and despite how he looks, he’s actually got a wicked sense of humor. Oh god, wait. Let me tell you what you he did that day while we were having lunch together-“

You turn your head to continue to run your mouth, only to slowly trail off when realise his face is just inches from yours, and you swear your heart is on a treadmill from the lack of distance between you and Prof Choi. It’s as if time paused, the both of you sinking right into each other’s gazes. You can’t help but notice how intense his gaze is, and you can’t seem to decipher his thoughts, but from the way this situation played out, you swore he’d just lean in and kiss you. 

Your heartbeat accelerates at the thought—why would he do that?

And when his fingers are on your chin, your rational thoughts are getting flushed out. 

“That’s an awful lot of cute things about Choi Jongho. I’ve never heard you talk about another Choi like that.”

You swallow hard, your body still frozen in spot. 

“What do you think about him then?” 

“Jongho? I was just-“

“No. Choi San.”

Oh god. You could only stare back at him. Prof Choi tilts his head, his eyebrows raised, waiting for his answer. His cologne floats and almost shuts down your senses—has he always smelled this good? 

The corner of his lips curl slightly at the way you’re staring at him like a deer in the headlights. 

“I t-think Prof-“

“San. Choi San”, he corrects you. 

Another hard swallow the more you try to focus your gaze on him. 

“I think Choi San’s a great professor. He’s really competent, a lot softer than he presents himself as-“

Fuck you can’t think. Not when he’s staring down your eyes to your lips like that. 

“Mmhm.”

“And he’s really so-“

Then a loud knock echoes across the room, breaking the tension. Prof Choi’s body doesn’t shift, but he looks up at the door, shouting “door’s unlocked”, before he stands back upright, adjusting his glasses and walking back to his desk. 

Jongho’s head peeks in, then he bows at Prof Choi before he walks to your desk. You stare up at him with a forced smile. 

“Ready to go? I was waiting for your message”, Jongho says, his eyes glancing over the professor, then you, a strange feeling that he probably interrupted something. 

You nod, while shoving your belongings into your bag, then slinging it on your shoulder. 

Barely being able to look at Professor Choi, you still force yourself to, bowing goodbye to him. 

“Thank you Prof Choi. See you tomorrow.”

He looks up from his desk, right into your eyes. 

“See you too, y/n.” 

You can’t help but wonder how far things would have gone if Jongho didn’t knock the door.

Jongho isn’t an idiot. Initially, he assumes that you and the professor were on much friendlier terms considering that you came in before he did. Granted, the workload he would give the both of you was the same, he would take the initiative to have lunch with the both of you both individually and together whenever he had pockets of free time, but what roused his awareness was the lingering glances Professor Choi would cast at you from time to time, the way he seemed to relish the reactions you would give him whenever he teased you. 

He notices the way your ears would grow red even when you roll your eyes at the professor and jab him with another playful snarky remark. 

Though he wonders how dangerous things could get, Jongho thinks this could get interesting. 

The semester continues smoothly, the only change being that Jongho being absent from the office more often due to his other commitment to soccer. You remember him telling you he had quite a big match coming up, the sparkle in his eyes bright and twinkling whenever he talks about said sport. 

If he wasn’t in classes, he’d be off for training, hopping into the office from time to time to pass Professor Choi marked scripts and reports. Prof Choi pretty much didn’t mind—he stated as long as Jongho did his job, he could be free to do what he wanted outside of being a teaching assistant.

Needless to say, the office was mostly Prof Choi and you, now even more time spent with him with Jongho mostly being absent. By then, the both of you had grown so accustomed to being in each other’s presence that banters amongst each other became the norm—the both of you competing with each other with unserious remarks, laced with almost flirtatiousness, just to see who would back down first. 

Then came the proximity—since Prof Choi would wander over your desk as if he had all the free time in the world, he would somehow strike up another conversation with you, leaning over to hear you better, his arm bumping into yours to look over at the papers you were grading to check if you were doing them correctly. But what he absolutely adores the most is when you’d roll over to his desk to pester him with your questions—sometimes even testing him on his own content. 

He likes the way he gets to be closer to you. He likes the way your shoulders touch his when you lean in to push the paper towards him so he can see the script better. 

He likes the way you would finally look up and meet his eyes when you’re done formulating your question, waiting to hear his opinion.

Today is no different—Professor Choi being so used to the notion that he would only be seeing you in the office, the corner of his lips pull upwards at the thought of the types of banter you would have with him, the kinds of shenanigans you would bring into the office.

He hears your knock at the time you would always arrive, watching the way the door opens, and your head popping from the door, as you greet, “Hi Prof!” 

“Good morning, y/n”, he would greet back, sipping on his morning coffee. 

You walk over to his desk, dropping his tuna rice ball. “Here you go. Enjoy your breakfast, Prof!”

“You can stop calling me Prof”, Prof Choi suddenly says, twirling the pen in his hand. For a second, you wonder what triggered the sudden change. You’ve been calling him Prof since day one, pretty much used to it already, the only time you didn’t was when he—never mind. The thought of it is making your face flush again. 

“Is there something else you want me to call you?” You ask, trying to calm your heartbeat down when that memory suddenly resurfaces. 

“You can call me San. I’m fine with that. I know you’re still my teaching assistant but we’ve been working closely. I think it’s fine to drop the Prof honorific.”

You try out. 

“Sure thing San”, you reply. “Though it’s gonna take a while for me to get used to this.”

“If you’re able to cuss in front of me, calling me by my name should be the least of your worries, y/n”, San teases.

You raise your hand, feigning a stance ready to smack him before you lower your arm, listening to the way San laughs before rolling your eyes and sinking into your desk. 

The day marches on as normal—attending a class or two with Jongho before he’s whisked away to his soccer practice, leaving just the two of you for the rest of the day. 

San is leaning at your desk again, looking at you typing out your report. He squints slightly before he leans down to your shoulder, his finger pointed at one of the paragraphs, asking you about the content. You answer him, and when you turn your head once you’re done, you find yourself looking at San’s side profile mere inches away—his sun-kissed skin, his pretty lashes, his thick, well-trimmed eyebrows, and the way his lips protrude out a little—he always looked like he’s pouting in the most adorable way. 

That’s when you realise a problem seemed to be bubbling up to the surface, try as you might to ignore it, repress it—that you’re falling for your professor. Fast. 

You snap back to reality, finally aware of how loud your heart is beating against your rib cage, and your hand flies up in instinct as a divider between you and San. San blinks at the sudden movement, confused. 

“Y/n, what are you doing?” He’s not moving. 

“I think I’ve got something on my face.”

San cocks an eyebrow. “You do? Let me check-“ 

His palm covers yours, bringing it down to the table, and you’re kicking yourself for sprouting such a self-sabotaging lie.

Why? Because now San has his hand on yours on top of his face in full view of yours, his eyes meeting yours before his gaze flutters around your face, checking for whatever hell you said was on your face. 

His gaze meets yours and for a split second, something else glints in his eyes. 

The door swings open, and San straightens himself up, slightly irritated at the interruption, leaving you to spin your chair away from San, your hands cupping your cheeks, the heat warming you up against the cold air conditioner. The heat from his hand on yours lingers for a little longer. 

Jongho walks in, his duffel slinging on his shoulder with his shoe bag clipped. 

“Hey, Prof. Hey cutie.” 

San blinks. What did he just call you?

“Hey jjongie. Aren’t you supposed to be at practice?” You ask, forcing yourself to focus on your colleague instead. 

“Supposedly, yeah, but there was a sudden downpour midway so training got cancelled. Might as well get some work done here”, he shrugs, dropping his bag onto the floor. 

San is wrapping his head around the fact that you and Jongho seem to have pet names for each other. 

“Didn’t miss me too much right?” Jongho teases. “‘Cause I did!”

“That’s a first coming from you jjongie”, you reply, surprising a smile. 

“Of course! It’s been a while, how could I not? We should go eat dinner together sometime.”

San only stares on in silence, pretending to sink back into his grading.

Jongho walks over to your desk, taking his turn to look at your report. San watches the way Jongho’s arm is comfortable over your seat, as he asks you about your report, talking to you as if San wasn’t just behind you seconds before. 

The fact you’re entertaining him—hitting his arm playfully and laughing at his remarks—all the more rouses some kind of irritation in San. It’s like a boiling pot. 

He pretends he doesn’t see the way Jongho leans in to whisper something into your ear although it’s bugging him so fucking much. For once, he wishes Jongho’s training didn’t cancel. 

“Oh right before I forget”, Jongho mutters, rushing back to his desk, digging through his bag. He walks back over with a paper in hand and places it before you. You glance down and your face brightens up—it’s a ticket to his game. 

“For real?” You exclaim, your eyes bright, taking the ticket in your hands. “I’ll definitely make time for you.”

“I’ll score goals for you, kay?” Jongho teases, his eyes glancing at San, who is progressively looking more irritated. 

“Ah, Is San not going?” 

“San? Since when were you on first name basis with him?” Jongho wonders aloud, the suspicion only brewing even more. 

“Jongho, don’t you have reports to hand in?” San asks curtly. 

You feel like you are caught in between crossfire for some reason. 

Jongho smiles, then has your head under his arm, which elicits another irritated reaction from your professor. 

You have never had Jongho done this before. In fact, you recall him offhandedly mentioning that he’s never a physical touch person, and that anything with physical touch makes him shudder. 

“Relax, Prof. You’d rather your subordinates get along than not right?”

Just when San is about to reply, Jongho suddenly exclaims. 

“AH, coach is calling me back to the field. Prof, I’ll send you the report by tomorrow okay? See you guys!”, Jongho hums as he runs back to his desktop to turn it off. 

“Has he always been like that?” San wonders aloud, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“I guess. It’s actually what makes him cute.”

“Cute? You think Jongho is…cute?” 

“Is he not? Doesn’t he remind you of a bear? Big and cuddly.”

San clears his throat, and you watch him walk over to your desk, his hand resting on the tabletop. He leans in. 

“So… you find it cute when he gives you pet names?”

“Well, I mean-“

“You find it cute when he plays with your hair?” San curls your locks around his fingers. 

You can’t seem to get words to leave your throat. 

“You find it cute when he has his hands all over you like that?” He’s leaning in even closer this time, arms trapping you at either side.

“Prof-“

“No. It’s sir.”

Your mind is in a whirlwind at the way he’s towering over you, his scent the only thing filling your olfactory senses, the way he’s staring right into you, gaze sharp as a blade. 

“You find it cute when his touches run up your body like this?” His fingers are trailing up your arms, every touch he burns into your skin, and when his thumb pauses at your chin, you realise you’re royally fucked.

Once more, his face is mere inches away from yours. You wonder if you’ll be teased like two previous times before. 

“Of course you don’t. You’d rather I do that to you, right?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Yes, sir.”

His voice is barely a whisper, his eyes downcast, staring at your lips like it’s his reward to claim. 

“Good girl.”

Of course, he claims it.

His kisses are so greedy—his lips prying yours open, and you feel yourself completely give in to him, surrendering whatever resistance, rationale, repression to Choi San. 

You want more—you want seconds. Every swipe his tongue passes your lip, it makes your head float. How does someone taste this fucking good?

He pauses mid-way—barely a couple of seconds, to pull off his glasses and strew them across the desk—then goes back to devouring your lips. 

San would smile in between kisses when he hears your whimpers. He thinks you’re so fucking adorable when you tremble slightly at his touch. It all goes straight to his cock. 

He thinks you’ll be even more adorable when he ruins you. 

When San pulls back, he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, watching your glazed-out expression with amusement. 

"I'd love to continue messing you up, but I have a meeting to attend. I’ll deal with you later, sweetheart. See you next week.”

His touch lingers on your chin for a couple of seconds longer before he pulls away and shifts to walk back to his desk, leaving your heartbeat wild and erratic, and your thighs squeezed tighter.

Since then, that was all you ever thought about—the slight smile before his lips collided with yours, the way his words rang in your ears. You could barely meet his eyes. 

In more instances than one and with any chance given to him, he’d close up any physical distance he had with you. Worried that your emotions would bubble and overflow when he does that, you developed a habit of avoiding his eye contact. 

Even after classes, you swore he was casting you glances even with lines of students waiting to talk to him. 

“Did you piss Prof off or something?” Jongho asks as he shuts his laptop. 

“Why are you asking?”

He shrugs. “It’s just that he’s been eyeing you down like a hawk recently. Did something happen between the both of you?”

You freeze when the flashbacks of the taste of his lips return to your memory when you remember how hungry he looked just wanting to devour you. 

“Y/n?”

You blink, then force yourself to meet Jongho’s eyes. 

“No. Nothing happened. At least I hope I didn’t make any mistakes.”

“You’re fine. There’s a reason why the department chair chose his teaching assistants.”

You laugh softly at his words.

But when you hear San’s voice from behind you, you almost jump. 

“Y/n, Jongho, the both of you can wrap up here and head back to the office”, he instructs. You feel his warmth radiating from behind, and it only makes your heart jump at the proximity. 

You watch Jongho slowly pack up, small conversations sparking between the both of you about his soccer practice. 

You glance at the door. San isn’t back yet. 

“I think it’ll take him awhile to be back. The students there seem to really like him.” 

No doubt, the female students for this class seemed a lot more assertive, almost always demanding all of San’s time. Well, not that it should matter. It’s not as if he should mean anything-

“Y/n? Are you okay? You seem pretty off recently. Even Prof’s pretty worried”, Jongho’s voice grounding you back to the cold office. 

You force a smile and shake your head. 

“I’m fine. I guess it’s just so much workload to deal with.” 

Jongho places his hand on your shoulder in comfort, “You’re doing fine. You know you can approach either of us if you’re struggling right?”

You feel comforted, even though your messy thoughts weren’t even about the workload, so you return an assured smile before waving Jongho off for his soccer practice. 

You’re wondering what you’re feeling nervous about, because when the door of San’s room opens, you jolt slightly. 

“You’re still here?” You hear San ask. 

“Yeah. Need to reply to some emails and double-check some of their assignments.” Not a total lie. It’s the swirling feelings he’s been giving you whenever that day surfaces in your mind, the small bouts of attention he pays you and the touches he lets linger a little too long that’s all a dopamine rush in you. You can’t help but want more. But in the same breath, meeting his gaze will allude doom for you. 

San nods as he sits back at his desk, going right back to his computer. The silence continues for awhile and you’re surprised that you’re even able to concentrate. 

“Y/n”, you hear San call you. 

Your gaze doesn’t break from your screen. “Hmm?”

“Come here. Help me look at this.”

You walk over, ignoring the way your heart is just pounding so damn loudly. It’s painfully obvious that San is staring right at your face, and it’s also painfully obvious that you’re avoiding looking at him. 

And it definitely seems to be ticking him off. 

Your eyes stay locked to his screen reading off whatever is on the screen, and nothing is processing in your brain. 

“It looks good”, you curtly reply, trying to ignore the fact that you’re being stared down by a certain professor. You turn away, your eyes still not acknowledging San, only for your professor to stop you in your tracks. 

“Now where do you think you’re going?”

He’s making you face him now. 

You’re still not giving him eye contact. 

“Back to my desk?” You say, looking off into the distance. But San seems to have other plans. 

“You know ‘looks good’ isn’t the feedback I’m looking for, right?”

Shit. You know that clear as day. 

Now San has both his arms trapping you on his desk. 

You somehow still manage to avoid his sharp gaze even when you’re backing up against him, easily letting him corner you.

His belongings are strewn all over the desk when he pins you down. By some miracle, only papers flutter down his desk. 

And you’re finally looking right at him. 

“You’re finally looking at me, y/n”, he states the obvious. “Now tell me, did I do something wrong?” 

“No, you didn’t, sir”, you reply curtly. 

He leans in closer. 

“Then why are you avoiding my eye contact?”

You shut your eyes and squeeze them. There’s no pure way out of this—your dirty thoughts are seeping into the smallest crevices of your brain, and the more San is prodding you, the more it makes you throb.

“It’s because that evening when we…” you feel your cheeks burn with every word leaving your lips. 

San is waiting for you to continue. 

“When we kissed…couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“And?”

“It made me want…more.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Has anyone told you how adorable you are when you’re honest?” He chuckles. “I’m gonna finish what we started sweetheart, like I promised.”

It makes your heart flutter. 

“Am I getting your consent for this?”, San’s voice rings in your ears. You’re finding it hard to focus, especially when his thumb is pushing past the corner of your lips, and you’re just growing wet as fuck. 

This is not right. This is so dangerous. 

“Yes sir”, you reply back, trying to ignore the way your cunt is just tingling from the feeling of San’s thick erection pressing against you.

“That’s my good girl”, he praises before he dives in for a hungry kiss, his fingers roaming around your body, squeezing your tits before he unbuttons your shirt at an agonising pace. He smiles on your lips when he hears your soft gasp, and he presses his lips down to your jaw and then to your neck, sucking and biting the soft skin against your neck, his erection growing tighter against his trousers when he hears you moan and squirm. 

When he’s satisfied with the light marks he decorated down your neck, his lips are pressed against your ear, and his hands are moving dangerously close to your cunt, and inevitably, your bottoms are off in seconds, leaving you in your pretty panties. 

“I would prefer fucking you on my bed instead for the first time, but taking you on my desk? Maybe not too bad.”

Your cunt squeezes at the sound of San cussing. You never thought he’d sound this fucking hot. 

He groans when his fingers press against the soaked patch of fabric hiding your pussy. All that wetness for him. He bunches up the fabric and rubs it against your clit, the friction drawing frustrated whimpers from you, much to his satisfaction. It feels so good but it’s not enough, and it’s driving you crazy.

San’s fingers finally hook against the waistband of your panties, sliding them off your legs, and pocketing them, much to your shock. 

And he doesn’t give you much time to focus on that because when he pulls his cock out from his unzipped pants, it makes your head spin from how thick Choi San is. 

“Sir, I’m not sure-“

“It’ll fit, sweetheart, like it’s made for me”, is all the warning San gives before he lines up to your hole and pushes his cock in. 

You can’t tell what’s fucking you up more—the way his cock is stretching you open or the San groaning in relief when he finally gets to stuff you full. 

You bat away your tears, his cock so fucking full inside of you, pressing against your walls, being squeezed so perfectly by you. 

God, Choi San thinks he’s in heaven. 

His fingers brush across your cheeks, collecting your teardrops. His eyes lack any ounce of empathy. 

“Aw, are you crying because it feels good? You look so fucking pretty crying when I’m stretching you open.”

You barely find the words to reply to him, all stuck in your throat, your mind only flooded by the way San’s cock is buried in your cunt, your thighs trembling from the pleasure. It’s almost sickening. You know you shouldn’t be doing this—not with your professor, not on his fucking desk, but when he has you wrapped you around his finger and cock fucking the daylights out of you, it’s a temptation you can never resist. 

A soft hiccup escapes past your lips when San pulls out almost all the way, his cock covered in a sheen of slick and precum before he pushes himself in once more, groaning when you clench around him for the nth time. 

“You feel so fucking good, sweetheart. God, I could just fuck you all day. You’d like that right?”

You’re barely keeping track, eyes rolled to the back of your head while your thighs twitch from the pleasure, but you manage to hold the eye contact, and through blurry tears, you mutter a weak, “Yes sir”. 

“Of course you do”, San hums before he pulls out once more and starts fucking you dumb on his desk. 

No matter how much you try to cover your mouth, bite your tongue or your lip, your moans only come out louder in defiance, the dopamine shooting up your pussy over and over again whenever San’s cock hits your pretty spots. 

Your mind is addicted to the way San’s shirt is buttoned down his chest, his cleavage almost fully out for you to gawk at, the way strands of his hair cling to his forehead because of the sweat, the way his eyes roll back when he feels you squeeze him with every loud fuck, and the way he looks down to you from time to time before he eats up your pathetic moans with hungry kisses. 

He fucked you up so good, you didn’t even realise it until now. 

“S-San”, you manage out a whimper, “please…”

“Please what, sweetheart?”

You don’t even know what you’re begging for. 

“Please… you feel so fucking good. I’m gonna cum. It’s so fucking good”, you babble, trying to force your eyes open. 

San can’t help but smirk when his ego is being stroked so nicely like that, especially by you. He’s a good person, of course, he’ll give what his good girl wants. 

His thumb slides south on your body until you feel the ticklish sensation of him on your clit. Cream and precum pooling at the base of his cock makes it even worse for you—with every graze, his finger pressed onto your clit, the knot tightened in your stomach. 

Your nonsensical strings of words only push San to tease you more as he endearingly watches you break slowly when your orgasm builds up. 

Your body twitches, your back arches, your eyes roll back, white splashes beneath your eyelids. Your orgasm burning through you while you cry out San’s name and you twitch pathetically on his cock, letting your cream leak all over his wet cock. 

“Fuck. You’re such a good fucking girl for me, aren’t you?”, you hear San curse. He fucks you through your orgasm, the overstimulation building up. The sensitivity feels so fucking good. 

His hand catches your jaw, and he forces you to meet his eyes. 

“Wanna pump you full of my cum, keep you so fuckin’ full for days on end,” he huffs, “but not now, sweetheart.”

Not that you minded, but there’s a strange tinge of disappointment ringing at the back of your head. 

San thrusts into you a couple more times before he pulls out, his thick and wet cock resting on your pelvis, twitching as his hand takes over. 

Nothing can beat Choi San’s fucking face when he cums. He looks like he’s in fucking heaven, and he’s tearing up the sky because of you. His fingers leave light marks on your thighs, you hear him groan at such a low tone that your cunt flutters uselessly against the air. Translucent spurts land on your skin, but it barely registers in you—you’re too busy swooning over the way your Professor just cummed over your body. 

San’s high dies down, and he catches his breath, casting you a glance, red dusting his cheeks, before he reaches out for the tissue box to clean you up. 

A quick kiss on the lips before he goes on to collect all the papers all over the floor.

That night he drives you home, filling the space with light conversations as if he didn’t just railed you on his desk. 

It’s only when you reach home that you realise one important thing—San still has your panties. 

You know you shouldn’t be telling secrets to your colleague, especially when it’s about your fucking boss. But here you are, facing Jongho, who has his arms crossed in front of you. 

“What’s up with you and Prof?” You predict the words that leave his lips. 

You hesitate to tell him, unsure how you should even say it, where to even start. 

The worst part you knew clear as day was that nothing changed since that day. You chalked it off as San being swamped with assignments to deal with, that’s why the topic was never brought up again, but something still irked you. The only comfort you had was that the semester was ending, and so was your term as San’s teaching assistant. 

Maybe it was how it was meant to be. Just nothing more than that.

But when you realise the dreaded feeling prickling at the back of your eyes, you knew you were fucked. 

“I don’t know how to even start jjong”, you sigh. Jongho scrunches his eyebrows. 

You watch his expression switch from one to the other. You expected him to freak out at you, yell at you for unprofessionalism or something, but he doesn’t. 

“It’s so fucked up. But I just can’t help but wonder if he feels anything”, you mutter. The thought of you not being the only one he’s doing this with makes your stomach churn. But somehow, in the most twisted ways, confiding Jongho made you feel slightly better. 

“Well, looks like we’ll have to play that card I guess”, Jongho shrugs. “But you should mentally prepare yourself for the results, that’s all I gotta warn you. I just need your consent to play along.”

It’s a risky bet you’re playing, but drastic times called for drastic measures, right?

As the semester closes to its end, so does the workload. San feels a lot lighter on his shoulders, and while he’s grateful for his teaching assistants for lifting a significant amount of workload off him, the end of a semester meant the end of the working relationship between him and his teaching assistants. He usually doesn’t feel that much, considering he has had many teaching assistants in the past, but for some reason, he feels a sense of discomfort lodged in his stomach when he thinks about having to let them go.

Especially one of them. 

He sighs, removing his glasses from his nose and shutting his eyes while reviewing the exams. San feels like a fucking idiot when his eyes land on your empty desk, his frustration bubbling when you cross his mind again. 

Even though he pretends to keep himself busy by flooding his mind with work, somehow, you would bubble to the surface once more, pushing him into the pits of frustration when he’s reminded of the way you get a kick arguing and refuting him just to get a reaction out of him, the way you taste like sweetest thing on earth he’s ever tried and the way you completely unravel when San fucks every single thought out of you—

He bites his cheek. 

No. He has to keep it professional. At least, until the term is over. 

He just doesn’t know how to tell you. 

He knows he’s entered deep waters when he crossed the line that evening, the sight of you undone right before him snapping all his rationale. More than anything, he’s suffering the withdrawals, maybe that’s the punishment he has to bear. 

He glances at the colourful ticket at the corner of his desk. It’s Jongho’s big game. Even though he usually doesn’t let himself intertwine with his subordinate’s personal interests, it’s hard not to. 

In addition, you’ll be there. Maybe he’d snag you after the game and talk to you properly. 

The meeting ran overtime, San glances down at his silver watch, realising he’d missed almost thirty minutes of Jongho’s game. Despite the exhaustion, he pushes it aside and heads to the stadium. 

He watches the brightly lit scoreboard as he takes a seat on the bench, Jongho’s team is in the lead by one point. 

Somehow he gets wrapped up in the game, cheering when Jongho’s team takes championship as the benches all burst into loud cheers too. 

He gets up to leave, already thinking of drafting a text to congratulate Jongho in his head, maybe get him a small congratulatory gift on the side. 

Then he spots you, just rows below. Now, he’s walking down as if on instinct, to get to where you are.

San pushes past the crowd to approach you. He’ll offer to drive you back—he knows it’s all an excuse but anything to get you into his space once more. 

His arm outstretched, reaching out to tap your shoulder, then suddenly stopping when he sees Jongho appear right in front of you. That’s fine. San could just congratulate him at the same time—

Which all of those thoughts immediately disintegrate when he watches Jongho cup your cheeks with his hand, his eyes widening in complete silent horror as Jongho leans into you for a kiss. 

You seriously doubt that Jongho’s plan would work. Didn’t San decide not to come anyway? You heard it with your own ears too. 

Nonetheless, you pushed it to the back of your mind, focusing on cheering for your friend, watching the leading scorer jump from one team to the next. You couldn’t help but erupt into cheers when Jongho’s team won, screams echoing through the open stadium. 

You watch Jongho walk up to the benches where you are, and his arms wrap around you, his smile big and bright, competing with the stadium lights. 

“Congratulations, baby bear”, you tease, pushing against his shoulders lightly. Jongho inches close to you. 

“He’s behind you by the way”, Jongho mutters, loud enough for you to hear, but not long enough for you to process, because his hands are cupping your jaw, his thumb pressed against your lips. 

He hears you muffle some kind of question but your lips stay sealed. 

“You owe me one for this,” is the last thing you hear before he leans in. Your eyes widen in shock, and you freeze in your spot, even though his lips don’t meet yours, evidently separated by Jongho’s thumb, his action had caught you off guard.

You barely have the capacity to process what had just happened, and you feel someone’s warmth tightening against your wrist. 

Jongho lets go of you immediately, but you’re staring right at your professor, who is staring right at Jongho with an unreadable expression, with his fingers curled tightly against your wrist. It feels like an eternity since you saw him. He’s not wearing glasses today and his hair is down instead of his usual slicked-back look, donned with a simple dress shirt and tie which framed his wide shoulders so perfectly.

“Congratulations on your win, Choi Jongho. I believe you should be with your team to celebrate right?”

Jongho only smirks back. “Right. See you babe. Thank you, Prof. See you next week.”

Jongho casts you a glance, the mischief twinkling in his eyes before he turns his heel down the stairs and back to the field. 

What the fuck just happened?

And you find yourself staring up at the male before you, his gaze piercing into yours. 

“Prof—San?” You blink. “I thought you weren’t-“

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart. Why would I not want to see the cute relationship my teaching assistants have right?” His voice is laced with venom. 

San doesn’t really elaborate further, leading you to his car, sealing your fate once more when the passenger doors close shut. 

He’s all over you. His body is burning up, maybe just as fast as yours is, and it’s making you feel dizzy. His moves are aggressive, impatient and you swear you feel something else too—desperation. 

“S-San—“ you gasp, in an attempt to take control of something.

“It’s sir to you, sweetheart”, his voice low and gentle, but commanding. Goosebumps scatter across your skin, making you shiver in response when his palms slide up your waist. 

You never saw it coming—from the second his hand grabbed yours, pulling you away from Jongho, his eyes locked into yours for a moment before he turns to Jongho, then to the car ride back, where you noticed the way his knuckles turned pale from gripping the steering wheel. On the walk to his car, you asked him where you were going, and all he did was turn to you and reply, “We’ve got things to talk about, don’t we, sweetheart?”

Now you’re becoming undone once more under San’s touches, trapped beneath him like the first time, now at his place, on his fucking couch instead. 

“It was just foolish of me to just let it be, wasn’t it?” He asks. “Fucking you dumb on my desk wasn’t a good enough indicator, was it?”

“S-sir…!”

“And you think it’s cute getting all cuddly with Jongho? Letting him kiss you all over, touch you all over?” San mutters, his fingers wrapped around your throat, his grip tightening slightly and you’re sure he’s about to leave light imprints. 

But oh, was it so fucking exhilarating—the thought of Choi San riled up like that, a sight you’ve never seen before, and you’re not sure if fear or excitement running through your veins right now, but what you do know, is that if he finds out that your panties are completely soaked through, you’re fucking done for. 

His lips collide with yours again, branding himself as some kind of oxygen thief when he’s turning your mind into complete mush. 

“I’m not sure if it’s a little game to you sweetheart, but if it is, I think you need a reminder.”

You breathlessly look up at him, and he looks ethereal even when he’s panting and looking pissed as hell. 

“What reminder, sir?” You dare ask back. 

The side of San’s lips tugs upwards. His hand leaves your throat and trails down your blouse, effortlessly unbuttoning the apparel until he tugs it off you, panting at the sight of your tits hugged by your lace bra. Your bottoms are off again on the floor of his bedroom, alongside any ounce of rationale. Your soaked panties are agonisingly pulled off your legs, and before you know it, his hands spread them open too. It takes all of San’s self-control to not stuff you full. At least, not yet.

“It’s my cock you’re gonna cum all over. Even when you have another guy’s lips on yours, it’s my name you’re gonna fucking scream.”

Oh. Oh god. 

The pieces of what Jongho was trying to do suddenly come together, unfortunately, the realisation doesn’t last long because San has his lips greedily on yours again on top of the way his full-blown erection is pressing onto your pussy. 

“Sir”, you manage out a weak mutter when he finally pulls away, trying to press and grind against his clothed dick for some friction or anything to rid the burn that’s going through your body. But San remains still. 

“Use your words since you love using your mouth so much.” Like kissing Choi Jongho. 

Your mind is a complete puddle. 

“I really…fuck. I really need you to fuck me right now, sir”, you beg, red flushing your cheeks, but it’s not from the shame. There’s a feral glint in San’s eyes that you don’t miss. 

“No”, is all he answers, and you feel your heart drop to your stomach. 

“Not until I’ve fucked your mouth full, sweetheart.” 

All you can do is watch him speechlessly as he hooks his index finger on the knot of his tie and loosens it, unraveling it back to its original form. 

“Hands together”, he commands you, and you do so immediately, basking in the scent of his cologne while he leans into you, his hands tying knots around your wrists with his tie. “Don’t let it loosen, got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now on your knees.” 

You’ve never dropped to your knees so fast.

San forces you to watch him unbutton and lower the fly of his trousers, and you’re just doing your best not to get drool on his expensive carpet. 

When his cock springs out, you’re also forced to watch him fuck his palm at a slow pace, drinking in his groans, slick staining your inner thighs, and the fucking floor next if you don’t do anything. 

His cock is heavy against your cheek when he taps it there, and your tongue slips out of your mouth by instinct, given experimental kitten licks on his slit, before his fingers catch your chin, and he forces you to look up at him. 

“Look at me”, he instructs. 

You do. You do your best not to break the eye contact, trying not to be sidetracked by his big fucking cock, but your eyes can’t help but dart to his appendage. 

“No, keep your eyes on me”, he redirects once more, his fingers fixing your head in place. 

Then he slides his cock into your mouth and pulls out a choked moan from you. 

“That’s it. Good girl”, he grunts when you start bobbing your head, fucking his cock with your mouth. 

His fingers trail to the back of your head, but he’s using all of his strength not to force your head down. 

But as you pick up the momentum, it’s an automatic reaction to push your head down so his cock hits the back of your throat. Your eyes are watering but fuck you feel like you’re in fucking heaven. Your head spins whenever his wet cock is forced down your tight throat, and you break eye contact a few times, which San has to tap your jaw to make you keep eye contact while he fucks your face. 

“I’m cumming, sweetheart. Fuck. Keep that pretty little mouth open for me yeah?” He groans, bucking his hips, letting streaks of warm white paint your throat and mouth, watching the way you’re looking up at him with doe eyes, taking his cum in your mouth like a good girl. His good girl. 

He smudges his thumb against the corner of your lips before his arms carry you up, only to dump you on the couch.

Your back is on the couch again, hands still tied behind your back and legs up with San pressing his body weight on you.

He props your leg on his shoulder, and he stretches you open inch by inch. You gasp when he fills you up, your walls immediately clenching around him. 

“So fuckin tight for me, sweetheart. You take me so well.”

His thrusts are growing more aggressive mixed in with the possession that’s bleeding in and it’s setting your whole body on fire. Your words are caught in your throat when he’s buried into you to the hilt. He groans at the way your pussy is fluttering pathetically against him. 

It feels so fucking good that nothing but stars engulf your vision when his cock stuffs you full to the hilt again. His name leaves your lips like a mantra on top of broken moans and whimpers, and it only makes San fill up the space in your pussy all the more better. 

His shoulders are so wide that he’s towering over you, his fingers forcing you to face him whenever you’re drifting because of the pleasure, his eyes feral when you look so fucked out for him. And when he combines his heavy thrusts with a squeeze around your throat, it makes your mind shut off and your cunt cream all over his dick.

“Good girl, looking all so fucked out for me.”

 His cock is hitting all the perfect spots, and it’s driving you insane with the knot tightening in your stomach at such a fast pace. You think you’re sliding off the couch but San isn’t letting you—especially not when his thrusts are keeping you on the couch. His name continues to leave your lips in broken moans every time he fucks you. 

San snakes his fingers to your scalp and he tugs sharply, enough to force you to look up at him. You’re tearing up again, and it feels so fucking good with the way he’s keeping your hair tugged while he fucks the ever-loving shit out of you.

“My name does sound much better when you’re crying it doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

You choke back a moan when he hits your g-spot once more.

“Y-yes sir.” 

“How are you feeling?”

“Full. So full sir. Want more. Please. Need you to ruin me”, you beg once more, your mind floating in an endless euphoria.

“Oh, I definitely will”, San hums, watching in sheer pleasure as your eyes roll back when his cockhead presses perfectly against your g-spot over and over.

Before you realise it, your orgasm hits you like fucking train, spreading through your body like a fucking wildfire, engulfing every crevice of your body. 

He’s gonna break you, and you’re fucking loving it. 

“San-“, you cry out, not registering the way he’s wiping the tears off your eyes. “So good. You feel so good. Cumming so much-“ 

“I know, sweetheart. It feels so fucking good doesn’t it?” He asks with a smile, satisfied when you nod frantically while he rubs your thighs.

Your thighs are shaking from how good this all feels, cream staining your inner thighs and his cock when he pulls out. 

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart”, San reminds you. 

He turns you over, keeping one hand on your tied hands, while the other pressing your head against the back of the couch. He lines his cock back to your cunt, pushing into your hole once more. You choke on your moans again, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes until he’s fully seated in you once more. 

The sounds are even wetter now, especially when you’re overstimulated, pussy just being so perfectly abused by Choi San. You fucking love the way his hands are around your neck, forcing you against the cushions when he fucks you dumb from the back. 

Your stomach is in knots once more, the feeling building up faster than the previous time, and all you can mutter is that it feels so good. San thinks you’re so fucking adorable when you’re not having banters with him and being this cock drunk for him. 

Then he pulls you off the couch, letting you catch a breath before he sits you on his lap, his cock still buried in your cunt, and starts bouncing you off his cock from below.

He alternates between melting your brain with his pornographic moans right at your ear and planting more love bites down your jaw. 

“Gonna cum again. You feel so fucking good in me. Oh god”, you hiccup through your tears, the sensitivity pushing your limit. 

“Cum as hard as you want, sweetheart. I’ll let you milk me dry, fill you up so fucking good that you’ll be leaking with my cum for the next two days.” 

That was enough to set you off. Your pussy convulses when your second orgasm hits, fireworks bursting in your eyelids, long drawn-out cries while San fills your tight cunt with his warm and thick cum, while his groans fill up in your ears. You feel his fingers massaging your thighs, coaxing you from your high. 

You’re dizzy, and light-headed as your head slumps against his shoulders, too spent to acknowledge the male behind you leaving more marks down your neck. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” San breaks the momentary silence, well aware that his softening cock is still in you. 

Your hand flies up to his chest to stop him, even though you’re still recovering from seeing stars. 

“We need to talk-“

“After we clean up”, he cuts you off, lifting you off his cock and carrying you bridal style to his bathroom. 

But you’re stubborn. 

“N-no. It wasn’t what you thought it was”, you say, feeling your tears well up in your eyes on top of the weight. 

The prickles are starting to form at the bottom of San’s heart, but he’s more focused on trying to hose you down with warm water. But he’s listening you run your mouth, not that he minded. 

“We didn’t kiss”, you reiterate. 

Now he’s just confused. He stares at you. 

“We just had sex, y/n”, San reminds you, trying not to let the red reach his cheeks. 

“No—I mean Jongho and I. We didn’t kiss”, you clarify.

San doesn’t really know if he should believe your words or his eyes, but now he’s focused on lathering your hair and body. 

“That wasn’t what I saw”, he replies, avoiding eye contact. 

“That’s cause we did this-“ you huff, turning his head to face you, imitating the way Jongho had slid his thumb between your lips and his, demonstrating San the fake kiss. 

San only stares at you wordlessly when you pull back, only more questions than answers. 

“But why would he do that for?”

“He was trying to rile you up.”

“For what?”

“To see if you felt anything for me?”

“By kissing you?”

Oh god. It felt like the more you explained, the more San was getting the wrong ideas. You let your head sit in your hands, unsure if it’s from the embarrassment or the fact that you don’t even know where to start. 

“It wasn’t a kiss, Choi San”, you groaned, your hands leaving your face, suddenly self-conscious that San is staring intently at you. “After we, um, fucked the first time, you acted like nothing happened, and I felt like shit about it, and I told Jongho and then…” you trail off, feeling your cheeks heat up again. It’s probably the hot water, at least that’s what you try to convince yourself with.

“I don’t kiss people I’m not in love with, San”, you sigh in defeat. Your eyes are downcast, but you feel his fingers cup your cheeks, and his lips press onto yours. You swear you could go another round again. 

The silence hangs in the air for a while, only the sounds of the shower filling the emptiness when he pulls back. 

“I didn’t do anything since after that evening because I wanted to properly tell you after the term ended.”

“Tell me what?”

“That I’m in love with you, too.”

You blink. Somehow that shocked you more than the both times he fucked your brains out. 

You don’t answer him because your head is just swarming with so many thoughts, and San lets you do so, satisfied that he’s finally have you quieten down so he can finish washing you up. 

Even when he’s dressed you in his oversized hoodie, San peppers you with kisses, basking in the way you sometimes cover his face with your hands to stop him, which only rouses him to continue to attack you with his lips.

San’s arms are tight around you when the both of you are finally on his bed. You smell like his favourite body soap and he can’t seem to get enough of it—nuzzling against the crook of your neck, muttering sweet nothings. You think this is probably your favourite version of Professor Choi. 

Your fingers twirl around his splayed-out locks, and you speak. 

“Prof Choi”, you tease, and San looks up, and it’s the first time you actually see him pout—it almost makes you combust. 

“I told you to stop calling me that”, he frowns, burying his face, feigning trying to cut off physical contact from you, which only makes you laugh in response. 

“I just wanted to disturb you”, you respond, trying to yank him back into your arms. “I do have a question though.”

His head pops up from his pillows and he stares at you, waiting for you to speak. 

“When did you realise you had feelings for me?”

He pauses, giving himself a couple of minutes to think. 

“The moment I received your teaching assistant application.”

📚 Bonus Epilogue 📚

“Prof Choi!” One of his teaching assistants calls out to him. 

He turns his head and attention to her, pushing up his glasses. 

“Yes?” 

“I need help with this part of the assignment. Could you help me check that I’ve marked it correctly?”

San nods, taking the papers from her. 

As he scans through her work, the teaching assistant’s eyes glance down at the band hugging his ring finger. 

“Prof, you’re married?”

San pauses his writing to glance at the glistening gold on his finger, and a small smile spreads across his cheeks. 

“You know, I used to wear a ring on my ring finger so students would stop asking me if I was married or not.”

She raises her eyebrows, her curiosity piqued. “So you’re not?”

“I am.”

Her eyes brighten, invested in her handsome professor’s love story. 

“Tell me more then”, she asks. 

San scoffs playfully, turning his gaze to her. 

“All I can tell you is that she’s always been my favourite.”

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @pre1ttyies @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @ywtf @woojirang @yuyusgirl

@jeon-ify @itza-meee @miss-fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @liyahbug05-blog @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn @vic0921 @sanhwajoong @bitejoongie @no1likevie

network: @atzhouse @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

[luveline]

If you're taking request for Spencer and Bombshell!reader I think it would be so incredibly adorable if they were both on the way to a case (or coming back) and their little baby Amanda was face timing them to say hi to them and the team 🥺🥺

“Video call for you, momma,” Penelope says, plonking a laptop down onto the desk in front of you, and then quickly being called away by Emily for help.

You ditch your pen immediately, nail scratching the laptop trackpad as you slide the cursor to ACCEPT. 

Amanda’s face fills the screen, a shy smile like her dad’s close to the camera, her eyes almost cut off by the top of the screen. 

“Amy, babe, you’re too close to the computer! I can’t see your lovely face.” 

Amy sits back in her chair. “Is this okay?” 

You take her in. You trust your babysitter to take good care of her, but nothing is as reassuring as seeing her unhurt and smiling. “Hi, baby.” 

“Hi mommy,” she greets. “Where’s daddy?” 

“He’s in the bathroom. Be back any minute. Are you being a good girl for Mrs. Gamorrah? How’s your tummy?” 

“I’m being good,” she says, ignoring the important question, “did you see my t-shirt?” She brings her shirt closer to the camera. She’s wearing her favourite pyjamas with the butterflies she had for her birthday, “Look, Mrs. Gamorrah got the soup stain gone.” 

You beam at her. You miss her like crazy when you’re not there. You and Spencer take turns staying home most of the time, and so being apart from her and knowing she doesn’t have Spencer to soften your absence makes it easier to worry about her, and harder to concentrate on the work. 

The door opens. You twist your head. 

Spencer’s drying his hands on a paper towel. “Is that Amy?” 

“Quick, she wants to see you.” 

Spencer hurries to the laptop, bending at the waist to see the screen and his impatient daughter. 

“Amy!” he says, like she’s the only person he’s ever wanted to see, voice enthused with his most dad-appropriate saccharine. “Hi, bunny, hi, hello. I miss you so much, are you okay? I miss you.” 

You tap his leg gently. Calm down. 

“Daddy, I am so happy, and I miss you too! We’re doing pictures.” She holds up a sheet of paper covered in crayon drawings. “Are you okay too?” 

“I’m great now I’m seeing you. I really miss you, sweetheart, I’m sorry we’re both away at work.” 

“It’s okay. Me and Mrs. Gamorrah are gonna have pizza and jiffy pop and soda tonight. It would be good with you, but it’s still fun.” 

“That’s good,” you say, putting your hand on the keys, wishing you could feel her soft arm in your hand, stroke her silken forehead. “We’re gonna be home soon. Maybe even tomorrow.” 

Spencer wraps his arm behind your shoulder. “Me and mom miss you so so much, and we’re so proud of you being a good girl at home. We’re gonna bring you a big present for being by yourself.” 

“I’m not by myself, dad, I have Mrs. Gamorrah. Plus, Uncle Morgan said he wants to take me and Hank swimming on Sunday.” 

“I’m sure we’ll be home before Sunday.” You smother your frown. Spencer kisses your cheek. 

“Give one for me, dad!” 

Spencer kisses you again. “That one good enough?” he asks. 

“Another one!” 

When you get home, you’re gonna spoil the death out of her. Like, worse than you’ve ever spoiled her before. Spencer presses another great kiss to your cheek and smushes your faces together, Amy on the screen reaching for you both for a ghost hug. “I wanted to say hi before we go to the store. Can I call you again before bed?” 

“Yeah, baby, call again!” You rush to answer. “Call daddy’s phone, okay? Mine’s not working right. I’ll answer you, we’ll talk all about your day. Okay? I miss you very much.” 

“I miss you too. Bye bye.” 

“Okay, bye bye,” you say, “I love you.” 

“Love you, Amanda,” Spencer says. 

She waves her little hand until it looks like it might fall off of her wrist. Spencer waves back just as hard.

[adoreddestiny]

ೃ⁀➷ ADMIRING YOU FROM AFAR — rafayel, xavier, zayne x gn!reader

rafayel tries his best to recenter his gaze when the two of you are out. but he can’t help when his eyes start to wander. the world grows a little more still as you preoccupy yourself with something mundane such as shopping.

he traces over your expression in his mind as if sketching out a mental image of your features. the way your eyes crinkle when you spot something you like or your hands grasping onto soft material make his heart flutter in a way he could never describe to anyone.

rafayel’s eyes linger on you as he follows you like a curious kitten through the aisles. a fleeting comment escapes him occasionally but then he’s back to staring. his eyes soften ever so slightly but when you meet his gaze the tips of his ears go red. suddenly, the jackets nearby have become so much more interesting.

xavier was never a fan of mornings. when the sunlight swims into the room and lights up the atmosphere, he wants nothing more than to tumble back into sleep’s embrace. but now he finds himself awaking just to soak in your features before the morning merges with noon.

lost in the murkiness of sleep, he gazes at you with half-lidded eyes. there’s so much peace in your expression and he can’t help but melt beside you as you continue steadfast in your dreams.

xavier pulls back a bit of your hair. his gaze fastens onto you, taking in your gentle expression and the sound of your soft inhales and exhales. he doesn’t know how to explain this rising adoration in his chest. he just knows it’s ever so comforting. wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulls you in closer.

zayne finds his gaze wandering back to you more than he’d like to admit. you promised not to bother him while he finished this report, but all he wants you to do is chat his ear off. your gaze is fixated on something outside your apartment. he pauses his typing, utterly entranced by the affectionate look in your eyes.

he hates himself for getting distracted. but he can’t stop himself when his fingers still and his cursor hovers over empty documents. the amber glow of his desk lamp shines against your skin and he tries to tear his gaze away again.

zayne’s mind wanders as he tries to look back at his laptop. but even over his screen, he can’t help but scan over your features once more. there’s a certain gleam in your eyes that he can’t stop admiring even while his heart is stuck in his throat.

[tunatoge]

take a slice - s. gojo x reader

contents: teen!gojo x teen!reader, angsty with a fluffy (?) ending, mentions of geto and haibara, gojo can’t lose another person

you sit in your dark and nearly empty dorm room with your laptop propped up on your knees. you have the cheapest plane tickets pulled up on the screen as you gnaw on your fingernails, wondering if this is really what you want to do.

for nearly thirty thousand yen you could get a flight to the incheon international airport and away from your life as a jujutsu sorcerer. you know it wouldn’t last long until the higher ups found you in korea but you were ready to get even a little shred of normal, domestic living. right now, you couldn’t handle being a sorcerer after suguru’s defection and haibara’s death. you wanted out.

your cursor hovers over the ‘complete transaction’ button as you think about how easy it would be to run away and how difficult it would be to restart your life. it’d be easier to stick around with satoru and shoko but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to want to. it’s tempting to throw everything you know away and restart from the beginning. you could finally think about dating someone without endangering them, or adopting a pet without potentially leaving it owner-less after an ill timed death.

you groan at your thoughts and shut your laptop as you fall backwards and grip at your hair.

“goddamnit!” you hiss, swiping your laptop off of your lap and onto your bed next to you. hot, fat tears roll down your cheeks as you pull and tug at your hair in frustration.

you roll back and forth in your bed, knocking into your laptop over and over. a small knock makes you stop as you turn to look at your door, satoru leaning in the doorway with his pillow under his arm. satoru frowns at you and you know he can tell what you were planning on doing but instead of mentioning it he makes his way into your bed and forces himself between your arms. you quietly cuddle with him as he hikes his leg over your hip and presses his face into your chest. after a few minutes, you move to grab your laptop out from underneath you to confirm your flight.

“don’t run away,” satoru whispers, his voice laced with hurt and exhaustion. “please.”

you inhale sharply as you roll away from him and open your laptop. you and satoru stare at your bright computer screen in the darkness of your room. for nearly thirty thousand you could be in a different country within a few hours. you already had your visa and everything else planned out; this was just the last thing you needed.

you turn to satoru with a small frown, carefully watching his expression as he looks up at you with sorrowful eyes. you have a feeling he won’t try to stop you or even beg you to reconsider.

“i’m scared,” you finally whisper. “i don’t think i can make it as a sorcerer; i don’t think i’ll live a long life exorcizing curses.” you swallow the bile that rises in your throat as you think about abandoning satoru and shoko and the two kids satoru saved earlier in the week.

you grasp at your hoodie strings as you turn back towards your laptop. tears roll down your cheeks and splatter onto your laptop. you let out a loud sob as you clutch your face in your hands.

“i don’t wanna’ die!” you wail, “i wanna’ live a long life with everyone i love around me! i wanna’ raise a dog or a cat, and i wanna’ be loved and married!” snot runs down your nose as you wipe at your face with your sleeves.

“you won’t die,” satoru tells you. “i won’t let you die. you and i, we can be teachers here at the school and live our lives as teachers and i’ll take your missions and make sure you’re safe. that kid, megumi, he can summon demon dogs with his technique. we can raise him and his sister and his dogs together.” satoru reaches up and grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as he looks at you with a steely look in his eyes. “and i love you and we can get married whenever you’re ready.”

your heart stutters as you look at him in shock. throughout the past two years shoko and utahime had insisted that satoru had feelings for you, but you always thought they were lying. you told yourself that he had feelings for suguru, that he only ever had eyes for suguru. your lips tremble as satoru sits up and takes your face in his palms.

“so please,” he whispers, “don’t leave me.”

you nod as you shut your laptop and let him pull you into his chest, his fingers clutching at your hair as you cry.

[wannabespiderman]

Man vs machine

Hello! This is my first fanfic written in English so I'm slightly nervous to post this but I couldn't get this idea out of my head so... I hope you enjoy :)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Just an old man confused about modern technology.

.

.

.

You were walking past the living room door when a discontented grunt caught your attention. You took two steps back to crane your neck past the half-closed door. Bucky was sitting on the sofa, leaning over the living room table, which looked like a toddler’s table compared to him, his face illuminated by the bright screen of his new laptop that you’ve bought him not too long ago. His eyebrows were tightly knit together when he mumbled a quiet curse. You turned around, a curious expression on your face as you walked through the door.

"You okay, baby?" you asked and promptly sat down next to him. Bucky gave you an inscrutable look before turning his eyes back to the screen. “Where the hell do I find my emails?” he asked in frustration. A sudden laugh escaped you. You should have realized that a 106 year old man who had little to do with electronics would have some trouble with a laptop. Bucky gave you a displeased look with a slight, unconcious pout appearing on his face. “Click on the internet icon.” You spoke softly, willing to help. Bucky’s brow furrowed. “I don’t need the internet, I need my emails.” You stayed silent for a moment, slightly baffled by his words. Just last week you took the effort to set up a Google account with him and you were pretty sure he had paid attention then. “Bucky.” You said an amused huff escaping you. “Your e-mail is connected to the Internet. Just click on the icon.” Bucky clicked his tongue in annoyance to cover his slight embarrassment and went back to staring at the desktop. He was definitely taking his time, and at one point you doubted he knew what an icon was. “Need any help?” you asked as kindly as you could, though the sight of Bucky squinting his eyes like a real old man made your voice sound rather amused. With an exhausted sigh, Bucky leaned back against the seat back and rubbed his face, his shoulders visibly slumping. “You do it.”

You snort, but immediately apologize after he gives you an exceptionally grumpy look. “You can do it.” You said encouragingly, giving him a small smile. Bucky rolled his eyes, but relented and bent over the laptop again. You shuffled closer to it so you could see the screen properly, and the little orange and blue Firefox icon literally jumped out at you. You pointed your finger at it and looked at it again. “Just click on this one.”

You tried to be patient with him, really, and actually he did exactly what you said, but you couldn’t hold back the little sigh that left your mouth as he moved the cursor over the Firefox icon and clicked. Once. “Okay.” You mumbled, rubbing your eye. Apparently, you needed to be more specific. "This time you click twice." Another brief but piercing look from Bucky before he actually double-clicked and the browser opened. You sent a quick thank you to the heavens before instructing him to type the url into the search tab and cringed silently when he started typing with both of his pointer fingers. Right this second you decided to teach him how to properly type with all ten of his fingers later. A few more instructions later, probably a little more than usually necessary, he reached the Google log-in site.

“I assume you can handle the rest?” It was supposed to be a statement but your voice shifted into a question at the end.

He hummed quietly in affirmation, though his brow was still furrowed as if this whole thing was incredibly complicated which, to be honest… it probably was for him. You pressed your lips together, a slight sting of guilt coursing through you, your previous amusement and frustration about his hardship completely vanishing. One second you were quietly sat next to him and the other you had your arms wrapped around his bicep and your head leaning on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about laughing earlier.” You whispered, almost too quiet for him to understand if he weren’t a Super-Soldier and had enhanced hearing. “I know it’s new for you.” Bucky tried to shrug it off but you saw how his eyes softened when he tilted his head to look down at you. A sudden, quiet chuckle escaped him, making you quirk an eyebrow in curiosity.

“You’d think, as a Cyborg, I’d be better at this.”

[on-a-lucky-tide]

i can't. i can't hold it in. i need nikprice and price having a voice kink. *goes insane*

This one grabbed me by the throat immediately, Anon. Wow.

Price gets horny on leave, but he's exclusive now.

cw: voice kink, masturbation.

Price stared at the flashing cursor in the search bar and knew he would find nothing online that would sate him. That's what happened when you went exclusive with someone that could make you multi-orgasmic at the age of thirty-seven. Nothing else even compared.

Exclusive meant no Grindr either. Not that the vapid twinks that used to message him regularly, all with the exact same body composition, fashionable haircuts and smouldering looks, ever appealed. Price growled in frustration, slumping back against his pillows as he slammed the laptop's lid closed and threw it onto the bedside table.

His cock strained against his pyjamas, creating a damp spot in the soft cotton, and he reached beneath his waistband to release it. A quick wank wouldn't scratch the itch, he needed something, some stimulus, some connection. He gripped the base and waggled it around, slapping it back against his belly as he puffed his cheeks out, weighing his options.

If he wasn't on leave with nothing but the gym in which expend his energy, this wouldn't be a problem. His libido only seemed to rouse its head when he had time to spare, or when one particular man was nearby.

One thing for it.

He grabbed his phone and pulled up the number at the very top of his messages.

JP (20:38): you free to talk?

Nik (20:39): ...

Nik (20:40): yes

Only once Price was dialling up did he realise he had no idea what to do when Nik actually answered. He didn't have long to think up a plan, because the international dial tone ended and a familiar voice vibrated through the headset.

"Prevyetik, John," came Nik's greeting. He sounded sleepy, his deep voice even lower than usual. Price's cock twitched against his belly, interested.

"Evening, or... where are you? Were you sleepin'?"

"I am in Thailand," Nik said, and Price heard him groan softly as he moved, perhaps sitting up in bed.

Price ran the numbers and winced. "Bloody 'ell, it's half three, Nik. I'm... look, uh, go back to sleep, I... uh..."

"It is fine, I was struggling to sleep anyway. How is leave?"

"Boring," Price said, a smile tugging his lips up. He settled down in the pillows and fiddled with a loose strand in his bedsheets. "Nought to do but throw around weights and watch daytime telly. 'Spose ya can't tell me what yer up t' in Thailand."

"Nyet, John," Nik said fondly, and it made warmth spread through Price's chest, like Nik's hand was there. Price placed his palm over his heart and trailed it down, following the path of that fuzzy feeling right to his belly. Nik was listening to him intently in the silence, but finally prompted for more. "Is there something wrong?"

Price grit his teeth and breathed out a sigh through his nose. It was nice to hear him. His voice. It was like they were in bed together if John closed his eyes. "Nik, I am... harder than granite right now and, uh... I..."

"Ahh, this is a, what to say, a booty call."

"Oh, fu--yeah, 'spose it is."

Nik chuckled and it made Price squirm, his lower lip rolling between his teeth. When Nik spoke again, his voice was somehow even lower, smoother than the expensive whiskey they had drunk together the last time Nik had been in Hereford. "Perhaps we need to purchase you some toys to keep you occupied when I am not there."

"Toys? You mean like," Price cleared his throat and lowered his voice as if his neighbours might be listening to his dirty talk through the paper thin walls of his flat, "a dildo."

"Da. But there are other things... Are you blushing, John?" Nik was teasing him now.

"No..." John said, who was very much blushing and very, very fuckin' hard. He encircled the base of his cock again and gave it a cursory tug. "Can ya imagine their faces if I rocked up on base with an Ann Summer's bag? Behave."

"Ann Summers is a little... tame for what I was thinking."

"Oh yeah? Ya gonna fix me some bullets and a vibrator on our next op, Nikolai?"

"Hmm, perhaps one that is the shape of my cock for you. And then when you ring me next, I can talk to you as you use it, and it will be almost like I am there."

John gripped his prick a little firmer, stroking slowly from base to tip, his hips rocking up into his hand. Nik was practically growling down the line; the sound spread from Price's mind to the rest of his body like physical touch, curling around his spine as if Nik's palm was there to caress him, to press him down into the sheets. "Huh..."

"Are you touching yourself, solnyshko?"

"Yeah, Nik. Keep talkin'..." Price rasped, his eyes flickering closed as he sank lower into his pillows.

"What would you like to talk about?"

"I dunno, Nik, read the bloody hotel menu for all I care, just... I... I need to hear you. Your... mm, your voice."

Nik took a deep breath, a rumbling sigh. "Ya postoyanno dimayu o tebye," Nik purred, silky and smooth. Price bit harder into his lip, pushing his heels into the bed to lift his hips in small, tight thrusts. "Ty mne snish'sya kazshduyu noch."

"Oh, fu--" Price's toes curled as he swiped his thumb through his slit, collecting the welling precum as his entire body flushed with heat. His palm made slick, sloppy noises as it worked up and down his shaft, and he tried to imagine it was Nik's big paw as he whispered filth and love in his ear.

Price's Russian was getting better, but his mind couldn't parse the words, just the sound of Nik's deep bass, how his body was conditioned by it, associating it with pleasure and comfort so intensely that Nik could pull his strings from the other side of the planet.

"Ya polyubíla tebya.. s pyervogo vzglyada..."

Price propped the phone between his shoulder and ear and licked his fingers, dropping them to his chest to pinch one of his nipples. If Nik were here, that's where his mouth would be, his hands gliding down the length of Price's body, so broad that even Price's six foot two, well built frame sat comfortably in his grasp. Price would arch into his mouth, Nik's palms against his lower back as he kissed down, down..

"Nik..." Price panted, fisting himself roughly, his knees lifting, tilting out. He pushed his head back, sweat beading at his hairline.

"Oh, John, I think... you must look so beautiful now," Nik said, breathless. "When I see you next, I will... show you all this, I will... make up for all the times I have left you wanting. Ty mne nuzshen."

"Mm-mm, ah." Price's stomach clenched, his thighs shaking, as he tried to stroke himself through his climax, his fist slick with the pulses of cum he milked from his twitching prick. It was intense. More intense than the disinterested wanks that had done nothing to quench his thirst earlier in the week. Nik. It was Nik.

"There's my boy," Nik slurred, his deep, sultry rumble thick with pleasure at the sound of Price's climax, no more than squeaks and pants down the phone, but no doubt as clear in Nik's mind as if he were laying in the bed next to him.

Price stared at the ceiling, holding his softening cock, his mouth hanging open. "Nik?"

"Da..."

"Were you--? Did you--?"

"Da, John. You drive me crazy. I am... was pent up."

"You too, huh?" Price laughed, more gasping huffs in the back of his throat. "Two horny old men half way across the world from each other, wanking like teenagers."

"I will... be home soon, milyy."

"Hm. Home," Price said, rolling onto his side to find the tissues underneath his bed. Treated himself to some triple-ply from Morrie's. It was the little things that made leave tolerable, like high quality tissues to wank into rather than M.o.D. tracing paper. But he stopped as the gravity of what Nik had said sank in, and slumped back into the pillows. "Nik..."

"With you. With you, I am home."

Price smiled at the ceiling. "Go to sleep, stay safe tomorrow," he swallowed, his voice wavering as he gathered those words that still felt so unwieldy in his mouth, even though he felt them with every chamber of his heart, "I... love you."

"Ya tebya lyublyu. See you soon." The line went dead and Price chucked his phone onto the bed.

International call, that was a bloody expensive wank. Price smirked, sitting up on his elbows to begin the clean up. Worth it though.

[sunsburns]

lonely dancers

pairing: dodge mason x gn!reader

summary: with graduation just around the corner, you're sitting alone in the local diner at carp and struggling to come up with anything for your valedictorian speech, unluckily for you, dodge mason is bored and wants to start a little conversation, maybe get a something out of you about panic.

—or: dodge offers you a fair trade

word count: 1.7k+

contains: fluff, kinda ooc dodge (i lowkey messed up his character a bit).

author’s note: i had this sitting in my drafts for a few months now, and i had no idea what to do with it near the end but i thought it was kinda cute so i decided to keep it and leave it as it was and have it up for interpretation. enjoy!

The new guy was interesting. He had caught your attention. Well, he had caught the attention of a lot of people in Carp; because everyone had known each other since diapers and had seen each other grow up in a town that never changes; because he was the first change in Carp in a long time; because he was different.

Dodge Mason didn't talk much, not unless he was spoken to or wanted something from you. You'd only ever spoken to him once, in class during the first semester when he was still fairly new. He sat next to you during English and leaned over to ask if you had a spare pen. And that was it.

No one knew where he came from, why he moved into town, or if he knew about Panic.

He didn't have any social media, no way of finding out any trace of his past unless he told you, but the chances of that were slim.

What everyone did know was that he worked at the diner with his mom. And you liked the diner; it was one of the few places you and your friends liked to hang out on your days off from school or work. The food was good, the people were decent, and the air conditioning was just cool enough to wear long sleeves inside without suffocating in the early weeks of summer.

You were counting off the days until you finally graduated, a little ecstatic now that you could count them on your fingers. But there were still more days left of school than the words you had written for your valedictorian speech.

The blank document on your laptop screen stared at you, the blinking cursor taunting you every time you deleted anything you wrote.

You only looked away when a drink you never ordered was set by your hand. You glanced at the person who put it down, almost startled to find Dodge Mason already staring at you with raised eyebrows from the other side of the bar table.

"Oh," you watched him toss a rag over his shoulder and wondered how long you'd been sitting there and when his mom left and he came in for his shift. "I never ordered—"

"I know," he said simply, shrugging. "You look like you need it."

You furrowed your brows and brought the glass closer to your lips. You could smell the faint hints of cranberries mixed with something else.

"It's a virgin Shirley Temple," he told you. "I can't serve you alcohol on the clock."

"Right," you muttered, finally taking a sip of your drink. You felt your face scrunch up as the bubbles fizzed down your throat. "I knew that. Thanks."

You expected him to leave you alone after that. The diner wasn't exactly busy, but a customer would come in every now and then, usually just asking for water between shifts at work. Dodge stayed nearby, keeping himself busy scooping up ice cubes and tossing them back into the bucket, glancing your way every once in a while.

You pretended not to notice, forcing your eyes back to your blank document. You could only stare at the screen for so long without getting a headache. You shut your laptop and sighed, pulling the drink close to you again and sipping at the straw.

Dodge moved closer now, no longer lingering near your presence but rather leaning on the counter between you. He rested his elbows on the olive-green wood, the corners of the paint already chipping off, and he rested his chin on the knuckles of his fist. "What're you working on?" he asked. "My mom said you've been sitting there since noon."

You couldn't help the flush that rose to your face, a mix of irritation and embarrassment.

It wasn't just the frustration of having spent most of your Thursday in the dingy diner, staring at a blank document for your valedictorian speech. It was also the fact that this was the most you'd ever heard Dodge Mason speak, and his sudden interest in your plight was unexpected and unnerving.

"Just this stupid speech. I don't know what to say," you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

He made a face, leaning away from the counter and tapping his fingers against it in a messy beat. "That sucks," he huffed out, a hint of amusement in his voice. "For you."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "No shit."

"Talk out of your ass," Dodge told you bluntly. "No one listens to the speeches at graduation anyways."

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his audacity. "I never said what it was for."

"You didn't need to. Everyone knows you're valedictorian."

"Yeah, but," you stammered, struggling to articulate your thoughts, "you're the new guy."

"Hardly," he rolled his eyes, taking the empty cup from your hands and starting to make you a fresh drink. "I've been here for almost a year now."

"You know what I mean," you insisted.

"Do I?" Dodge Mason turned to pour something into the drink from behind him. You watched closely as he reached for a small box on the upper shelves, took out a tiny umbrella, and placed it in your new drink before turning to you again. "Here."

"What is it?" you asked, taking the drink from his hands.

"Virgin piña colada," he said, watching you take a sip. "Good?"

You nodded, letting the straw slip from between your lips. "Very."

He smiled, and you found it almost disconcerting. The rarity of it intrigued you, and you were sure it was the first time you'd seen him smile in a way that wasn't sarcastic. It almost threw you off balance, and you briefly reminded yourself that he didn't usually talk to anyone unless he wanted something from them.

But what could he possibly want from you?

"What have you come up with so far?" he asked, breaking your train of thought.

You blinked at him, momentarily lost. "Huh?"

"For your speech," he clarified.

"Oh, nothing."

He seemed genuinely surprised. "Nothing?"

You nodded again, feeling a bit sheepish. "Nada."

"You do realize graduation is next week, right?" he raised his eyebrows.

"Well, I don't see you offering any help," you shot back.

"I'm being helpful," he retorted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"How so?"

"I'm giving you drinks, on the house."

You slowly opened your laptop again, your eyes never leaving his. He smiled at you sweetly, the kind of smile that made your heart skip a beat. You noticed the glint in his eye and couldn't help but ask, "What's the catch?"

"No catch. I get to practice my bartending, and you get to sit there and enjoy it."

"While you start small talk," you said, raising an eyebrow.

"What's wrong with a little small talk?" he asked, leaning closer, his voice softening.

"Nothing's wrong with it," you shook your head, letting the screen turn on and the same blank document open before you. "It's the fact that you're initiating it. What do you want?"

He didn't seem too upset to be caught by you. Instead, he leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto yours. "I want you to tell me about Panic."

Shit. You didn't expect him to ask you about that. Perhaps literally anything other than Panic. You decided to play dumb.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on, yes you do." He saw right through you, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. The sound sent a shiver down your spine. "Don't act like everyone else when I ask. You know the game. Are you playing?"

"Playing? What are you even talking about?" You tried to keep your voice steady, but the closeness and his unwavering gaze made it difficult.

"You're smart." He didn't falter, "I bet you're a judge this year, right?"

"A judge?" you tried not to seem flattered at his assumption. "Me?"

"It's you, isn't it? No one would suspect it. You're always too busy drowning yourself in school work—"

"There's much else to do here—"

"—and you keep to yourself a lot."

"I have friends," you insisted, though your voice wavered slightly. His relentless scrutiny was making it hard to think straight.

"I'm sure you do," he said, a teasing glint in his eyes that made your stomach flutter.

"You're being a dick," you retorted, staring at him blankly. Despite your words, you couldn't help but feel a strange comfort in the way the two of you had smoothly fit into a rhythm where you were comfortable enough to call him out.

"Okay, I'm sorry." He visibly deflated from the other side of the counter, leaning on his arms and frowning. It's unexpected, and it tugged at something inside you. "I'm sorry, okay? I just... it's hard. Being here, making friends. Everyone's known each other since forever, and I don't know..."

You tried not to seem too surprised, for his sake. You never realized how much it would suck to be in his place, especially after moving to a town like Carp, where people still called you new after being there for over a year and stared at you like you were an alien just because they didn't know you. And, for his sake, you were not about to lie to him either.

"Well, you're not exactly the most approachable guy." When he stared at you blankly, you sighed, pushing your laptop aside. "You're very intimidating. You're quiet and always alone. Too mysterious. I honestly thought you poisoned my drink."

A smirk grew on his lips, and you didn't hate it. "Who says I haven't?"

You narrowed your eyes at him, feeling yourself mirror his grin. "See, you aren't too bad. You just gotta put yourself out there."

An idea struck you, and before you could second-guess yourself, you blurted out, "Do you want to help me with this speech? Maybe we can work on it together at my place. Maybe I could tell you some more about Panic," you glance behind your shoulder for a brief moment, "I'm not thinking of playing. It's not my thing, but uh, I wouldn't mind helping you from the sidelines."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but then his expression softened into a genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. "Yeah, I'd like that. When do you want to start?"

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[chososdiscordkitten]

Obsessive!Choso♡ pt3

pt 2 here content: Choso refers to reader as his gf- other than that no use of pronouns. mention of reader wearing lipstick, obsessive crush to stalker arc :>

(a.n) this is slowly becoming a fic and I don't hate it. I felt lack of inspo last night and did a deep dive into what stalkers do- the red flags before they start the actual stalking lol

taglist: @flam3bird

Obsessive!Choso who almost felt his heart burst when he saw you wave hi at him when you walked into class. Smile on your lips as you walk down to your seat. Hearing your friend speak a little louder than a whisper while taking a practice test, seeing you look back at him and make a face almost asking him, ‘can you believe what she's saying?’ before turning around again, watching your friend lean in close to you and keep pestering you. His eyes watching you turn your phone on under your desk, ‘During a test? What are you thinking-’ he thought, mentally scolding you.

Obsessive!Choso who almost died when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, pulling it out and seeing that you had texted him. ‘can u hear her from all the way over there ?’ reading it and hearing your voice. The realization of, ‘you were thinking of me?’ making him slouch in his seat, feeling his heavily pieced ears start to warm. Staring at your text, looking down at you, noticing you had the conversation still open. ‘Are you waiting for me?’ he asked you in his mind. Quickly screenshotting the notification before opening it, ‘yeah, i can.’ he typed, sending it and seeing you turn your head and smile at him. Seeing you look down at your phone, his heart beating quickly when he saw the typing bubble show up. ‘she keeps asking me what the answers are’, smiling when he saw that your auto capitalization was off, another thing you two had in common. ‘is this not a practice test?’ he typed, thinking how crazy it is that he was talking to you. To you! Person of his dreams, everything he wanted in a partner. You. The person who always greets him with a warm smile, who's always nice to him.

Obsessive!Choso whose heart skipped a beat when he saw you move your shoulders, indicating that you were trying not to laugh. ‘I make you laugh?’ looking down at his phone and seeing you had texted again. ‘dont think she knows that’  you replied, putting your phone away and getting back to the paper in front of you. Making sure to remember to ask you why you're friends with someone like that. ‘You're not the same kind of person- or even on the same level mentally. So why would you be friends with someone who does nothing but bother you?’  Thinking he knew everything about your friendship with this person. 

Obsessive!Choso who went to the campus coffee shop, in hopes that maybe you'd be there. Knowing from your instagram stories that you usually came to pick up a coffee after one of your classes. Only this time you weren't here. Pulling out his trifold wallet before paying, looking to see he didn't have any cash, trying to find his card. “Pretty girlfriend.” the cashier said, breaking the awkward silence while looking at the photo of you in his wallet. “Sorry?” he asked, looking at them when he found the piece of plastic. “Your girlfriend-” they continued, eyes pointing at the picture. The sentence made him flustered, not paying attention that some people notice small things like that. Smile on his face as he mumbled a quiet ‘I know.’ before tapping his card onto the screen. 

Obsessive!Choso kept those few words in his mind whenever he caught a glimpse of his wallpaper. ‘My girlfriend.’ he'd think, smile on his lips when he would refer to you as that.

Obsessive!Choso saw a picture of your laptop and a notebook next to it in your story. Knowing you were home, knowing that you were waiting for him to text you, you had to be right? Opening the google doc on his computer, seeing that you were on it as well. A few minutes of him watching your cursor type a sentence and delete it. Before seeing a message from the upper right corner of his screen. A message from you, ‘Hey, I know it's late. But I hit a wall with this stupid project- could I call you?’ he read, eyes widening at how right he was. Clearing his throat at how forward you were being. Call? As in on the phone with you? 

Obsessive!Choso who almost choked when he heard your voice on the phone. Pressing the phone closely to his ear, closing his eyes with a smile when he heard you say- “Heyyyy”, not being able to find the words to say to you. A small ‘hi’ leaving his throat. Hearing you let out a small giggle before hearing you place your phone down. “So i'm on the doc- and I saw you were on it too-” you started, Choso pictured you. Sitting in front of your laptop, smile on your face while speaking. He could tell by just your voice that you were smiling, smiling while talking to him.

Obsessive!Choso who desperately wanted to record the conversation- well, more like record your voice. He wasn't the one speaking a whole lot. You had gotten used to filling the silences he left in the air, being able to tell that he wasn't much of a talker. But little did you know that he was thinking longer replies, but only thinking them. Smiling when he’d hear you ask a question. You started reading aloud what you had written- making sure it sounded right. Choso accidentally let out a low ‘Mhm’ while hearing you read, closing his eyes in regret when he heard you stop. “You sound so different on the phone-” you started, almost a whisper. He exhaled quietly in relief when he heard your fingers start to press onto the keys of your computer. The call didn't last longer than 20 minutes, you just wanted to ask him his opinion on if what you had so far sounded smart or not. But in his mind, the only real reason you called was to speak to him- to hear him. 

Obsessive!Choso who felt like he could die when you told him ‘thank you’ for his help. But when you mumbled a tired, “Goodnight Choso-” before you hung up, made his cheeks flush and his heart pound in his chest. The first time you had ever said his name. Immediate regret filling his gut when he remembered he didn't record it. But he would always remember it, always keep it close to his heart in memory. 

Obsessive!Choso was walking to the campus coffee shop after class. Seeing you speaking to some guy- probably one of the so called friends you choose to surround yourself with. Slowing his pace when he saw you slowly backing away from him- and nodding no at him. Seeing this guy, reach for your arm, speaking over you as he stepped closer. Even from a distance he could see your face look uncomfortable. At that moment, Choso didn't know what came over him. He walked over- more like storming over. His face full of anger, slapping a sweet smile onto it when he saw you look over at him. “I was just about to go find you.” Making sure to keep a sweet tinge in his tone when he spoke to you. Smile of relief on your face when you saw him. Dark eyeshadow and combat boots almost making you feel safe. A quiet ‘hey’ trailed from your lips, feeling the stranger's hand fall from your arm, taking a step back. “Me too, I wanted to bring up-” you started. Rambling about what the professor had taught today, noticing the guy back off before walking away. Seeing you exhale before looking at his face. “Thank you.” you whispered, looking down at your shoes. “A friend?” he asked, his tone deeper than before. Using the same tone he spoke to you while on the phone. “Absolutely not-” you smiled, looking back up at him. “Just some guy from my public speaking class. He's been bothering me since the first day.” You laughed, seeing him crack a small smile, his hands fidgeting with his rings. “Are you busy? I was just about to go grab a coffee-” you started, looking away from him in the direction of the same coffee shop he was going to.

Obsessive!Choso who thought; ‘Aren't you forward. Trying to spend more time with me?’ as he nodded no, “I'm not.” he replied, his hands in his pockets.

Obsessive!Choso who was convinced you were starting to feel the same way he did, even if it was only a week since they paired you together. I mean, who would ask someone if they wanted to have coffee with you? “Sorry if you had plans- or whatever.” you started, walking slowly next to him. “I didn't.” he mumbled, hearing his boots drag onto the concrete. “The least I could do is buy you a coffee!” you exclaimed, ‘No need to thank me- who else but me will protect you from all the horrible men in the world?’ Choso thought, looking over to see you, remembering all the people who have been broken by men who didn't love them. Knowing that you would never have to worry about those silly things with him. 

Obsessive!Choso who purposefully switched the two coffees you had paid for- in hopes he'd be able to share an indirect kiss with you. Knowing if he tried to pay, you'd see the picture of yourself he had in his wallet. Sitting down at one of the round tables, heavily ringed hands around the cup as he looked at you pick up his coffee. Making a face when the sour taste hits your tongue. “I think they switched our cups-” You smiled, pushing his cup towards him. Seeing him mutter a feigned ‘Oh’ as he gave you the correct cup. His eyes focused on the light print of lipstick you had left on the black lid. “I could get you a new one- I know some people are huge germaphobes.” You smiled, taking a sip from your cup to wash the bitter taste from your mouth. “There are worse things in the world than sharing a drink with someone.” He murmured, slouching in his seat, seeing you give him a sweet smile in return.

Obsessive!Choso who took one sip of his coffee, only to assure you that it was okay that you had drank from it. Who felt his knee start to bounce with anticipation when he felt the satiny feeling of your lipstick on his bottom lip. Hearing words falling from your mouth, but not listening to them. Thoughts of how technically that was your first kiss with him. Seeing your phone light up on the table, hearing you sigh loudly. And it continued to light up- repeatedly. “Jesus- this girl doesn’t know how to take a hint.” You exhaled, picking up your phone and typing something. ‘Must be the girl from class.’ he thought.

Obsessive!Choso whose lips moved before his brain could process what he was saying. “The girl from class?” he asked, seeing you look up at him and smile. “Yeah- she keeps trying to come over to my house for a sleepover.” You placed your phone down, “That girl is the epitome of peaked in highschool.” You mumbled, Choso finally found an opportunity to ask you. “Why are you friends with her?” he questioned, seeing you inhale at his words. “I chose this college to get away from all the bullies and all the pretentious people who would live the same boring suburban lives.” You started, “And to become myself- to find myself.” You mumbled, looking away from him. “Imagine my disappointment when I got here and it was full of superficial delta chi’s-” You laughed, seeing him return a smile to you. Humming in response to your words. “I was never good with confrontation- The idea makes me anxious and uneasy.” seeing him look at you with his head in his hand. Eyes half lidded while listening to you. His pointer finger tracing doodles onto the table. Liking the way you opened up to him, letting him get to know you. Being able to hear your unfiltered thoughts, not the bullshit you over thought before you posted on your story. 

Obsessive!Choso who paid close attention to what you were saying, hanging onto every word that fell from your lips. Feeling yourself cringe at how you just aired out your business to someone who was practically a stranger, not knowing why it was so easy to speak to him. Somehow never sensing any judgment or lack of interest in what you said. Feeling a wave of relief whenever you were able to speak to him- a real person who didn't care about people's opinions. “Honestly I don't know why I'm still friends with her- I've tried to sit in other seats, hoping she wouldn't sit next to me in that class anymore.” You spoke, finally answering his question. ‘I know. I watched you every time you moved seats.’ Choso replied to your words mentally. “I think the reason I'm failing that class- is that I can't focus on what is being taught because she's in my ear the entire time.” You smiled, easing up on the heavy topic. ‘Aha. I knew you were failing- just like me.’

Obsessive!Choso wanted to suggest that you to sit next to him, knowing your childish friend won't follow you if you did. “Failing?” he asked, eyes scanning your features. “Yeah, I was hoping this-” You sighed, “stupid project would help my grade at least a little.” Closing your eyes and leaning back into your chair. ‘Ask me. Ask me and I'm yours. Ask me to help you.’ he thought, fighting off his excitement when you looked at him. Lightbulb practically popped up above your head, “You're doing good in class, aren't you?”  you asked, smile on your lips as he nodded yes without thinking. “I know that we were only paired for this assignment- but would you be ok with helping me study?” You smiled, eyes so bright he swore he could see the universe in them. “Of course.” He smiled, seeing you exhale and look down at the table with a smile.

Obsessive!Choso who almost let out a small giggle when he saw your face flush. ‘Are you- blushing?’ he asked himself. The question you asked him didn't make him nervous. He understood most of what was being taught, but he didn't have the energy to physically write the essays, and besides- Choso preferred spending his free time thinking of you. Not of the stupid course work that he didn't need for real life. Trying to get to know you better through your social media. Dissecting every single photo you posted. Zooming into the background of your bedroom, seeing if he could find anything worth researching. A band poster, a shirt on the floor, a stranded bottle of nail polish he could buy so he would match with you- anything that would let him see you. The real you- not the person that you pretended to be with the fake friends you had. The person he saw a flicker of that day at the cafe. The person you came to this college to become.

-

pt 4 here

(PLS LET ME KNOW IF U WANNA BE TAGGED IN THE NEXT PART PLSSSS) omg thank god I posted this. I am alr writing pt 4 I don't CARE. this is my new passion, wrote this while listening to 'Such Small Hands- La Dispute' Choso thinks this is all fun and games, what happens when he sees I am crazier than he is ?

[shoyudon]

O16 . . . MOVIE SLEEP CALL

“what’s up, buttercup?” gojo greets, leaning his back onto the headboard of his bed, prepping his laptop on top of the small foldable table, “how was your day, huh?”

you leaned back on the chair, fixing the webcam, “what is up, buttercup?” you retort back, pushing the webcam upwards a bit, “my day was just – okay. yours?” gojo could hear a few statics and grumbles from your device here and there, watching his camera in amusement at your attempt to find the right angle.

“mm, mine was okay too. kind of boring since i have no students to teach today,” the male explains, “how long are you gonna fondle with your webcam? you look good in this angle – or any other angle, actually,” he added.

narrowing your eyes at the webcam, gojo getting a zoomed in view of your face could only chuckle, “okay, i’m done. this is the angle,” you clicked your tongue, sitting back, “oh, hey, look at you wearing the new headphones. and the little sprout, how adorable. the color black looks good on you.”

gojo grins, leaning his head close to his laptop’s camera, showing the little crocheted sprout latched to his headphones, “my students liked the sprout and had me wear it the entire morning period. it’s cute. they’re fifteen by the way.”

you laugh, “your students are adorable then.”

“they could be infuriating.”

“seriously?”

gojo nodded, “seriously. i have a student, his name is megumi – sometimes i feel like i’m the kid instead of him, i can’t believe he’s sixteen sometimes. he acts like he’s on his sixties or something,” he rambled, “and there’s this kid, his name is yuuji. actually, you reminded me of him a lot; i think the both of you would get along together, i can already feel the connection. he actually follows my fan account. sheesh, talk about loyalty.”

frankly, it was refreshing to see gojo act like a teacher instead of a fan boy. in fact, he seemed like a big fan of his own students, “and then there’s kugisaki, she reminds me of a jack in a box – one second she’s angry, and one second she’s all giggly, and then all of a sudden she’s angry. she’s just unique.”

you leaned on your chair, listening to him intently, “mmm. sounds fun – i’d like to meet them someday.”

gojo gave you a thumbs up, “yuuji’s a fan of you; not as big as i am though. anyways, enough speaking of my kids, what’s the movie about?” he cuddled a bundle of fluffy blankets – prepping himself comfortably on his bed.

“how to lose a guy in ten days? you know, male lead bets that he can get any woman to fall in love with him and female lead’s a women magazine writer thinking of writing an article about how she practically leads a man to dump her, yada yada yada things happen, they meet, and their plans kind of backfired on them.”

gojo hums softly, “ooh, sounds interesting. spoil the drama,” he whispers.

shaking your head in refusal, the male grumbles softly, “wouldn’t be fun if i spoil everything now, would it?”

“you’re not wrong, but i’m curious about it.”

“let’s just watch it then,” you hover the cursor on top of the play button and press on it, going into full screen, “i’ve actually watched this – so . . . if i fall asleep mid movie, continue on watching. we can leave the call until i wake up, or you can leave first. just a heads up.”

gojo looks into the camera, smiling, “nah, i’ll accompany you. what kind of person would i be if i kept you sleeping on a chair, huh? just tell me if you feel like you’re going to doze off, we can always continue the movie next time, right?”

raising a brow in amusement, you bobbed your head once, “we’ll see.”

“-/n, hello? y/n?” 

fluttering your eyes open slowly, you raised your head up. the muscles on your neck groaning for you to stop moving for a bit to ease the soreness they were feeling – blinking the light to adjust your eyes, a voice of acknowledgment escaped your throat, “hmm? yeah, yeah, i’m awake. i’m awake.”

gojo lets out a string of breathy laughter, “you slept fifteen minutes into the movie, you sure you can go on? we can always watch this another time.”

seeing things clearly, you notice how gojo had managed to pause the movie at the 17:03 mark, “no, no. i was just – resting my eyes, for a bit. i could do this all day,” gojo barks out a laugh, “what’s so funny?”

“y/n, the bed’s right behind you. you can just go to sleep, you know?”

you wondered if this was the effect of constant overwork, the fatigue finally catching up to you, or were you just a tired person in general? or maybe both? 

“what if i lay down, move the chair, and the call stays on. we can sleep call. until tomorrow, deal or no deal?” you ask him timidly, holding back a yawn, “i’m sorry, gojo. i don’t know why i’m having a hard time keeping my eyes open, i can leave the call on, we can stay on the call since we’ve been planning this movie time–”

gojo chimes in, “you’re rambling.”

“i’m sorry – my head’s just–”

“y/n, it’s okay. really. i’m not angry or upset. honestly, i’m just happy we can spend time together despite your busy schedule, whatever you’re comfortable with, you can do it,” he tells you with an understanding smile on his face.

“i wanna leave the call on, with you, is that okay?”

he chuckles softly, “it’s okay. good night, y/n. i’m watching the movie without you,” he playfully says.

BEHIND THE SCENE !

gojo wasn't lying when he said you snored like a firetruck

your barney plushie is a childhood plushie that you still kept

gojo ended up finishing the movie alone (ft. your snoring)

TAGLIST !

@osakis-gf @catobsessedlady @jayathelostdragon @dazailover1900 @bebymylonely @starssfall @sassy-cat-in-town @fayeraa @sukunaspillow @executeher @lukabwrry @caileysdead @satxoru @misorastars @tenshiroko @myahfig4 @isometimeswritestuff @plutosgold @foxevxid @ofcqdesi @satoryaa @splzq @inupibaldspot @akio-ayashi @probablybethere @celestialzdiviner @ilykii @hotgirlshit5 @tbzzluvr @astraiahomura @nnasv @veraiism @asahiee @snwvie @n0tviv @luvvmae @alwaysinblck @luciledreamz @an-ever-angry-bi @kiwiikato @lemonnotade @kalulakunundrum @ichorstainedskin @r0ckst4rjk @lovelovelovey @jellinuy @svnkenlily @gojoful @quinnyundertow

SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT

© shoyudon 2024 . no copying or reposting allowed !

[haoboutyou]

my little graduand | choi seungcheol

fluff | 0.8k | no warnings

an: quite literally was checking my finals results when cheol went live so… i’m finally graduating soon!

You were stunned.

Staring back at you, the screen illuminating your face as it sat on the table, your laptop’s bright display shows a page you never thought you would receive.

FINAL EXAM – 70%

“I passed?” you softly muttered, unable to believe your eyes. You could feel your heart pounding. You moved your cursor to the corner, clicking ‘refresh’. It loaded for a millisecond before displaying the same unchanged page again. Still, in disbelief, you’re about to refresh your page again when your phone lit up, the special ringtone Seungcheol had set for himself blaring into the room.

You blinked out of your reverie, jumping at the sudden noise. You stared blankly at the phone a little while longer before finally moving to pick it up. A videocall, you noticed. Smoothening down your hair and propping the phone up, a trembling finger pressed ‘accept call’. A moment of suspense built as the connection was established, and then, there he was – your lover's face appeared on the screen, filling your world with his presence.

“Hi baby!”

Seungcheol’s bright voice greeted you. The warmth in his eyes and the genuine happiness on his face instantly bridged any physical distance that separated you. He was about to jump into the whole reason why he was calling you – he had some free time before heading to the gym – when he noticed in your shocked face.

“Baby? Love?” He waved his hand to elicit some kind of movement from you. Seungcheol was almost convinced your side of the call was hanging until he caught you mouthing something. Increasing his volume, he coaxed you to repeat your words.

“Cheol, I… I just checked my finals results,” you gulped. “I… passed? It says here i scored 70%...” you spoke in hush tones, as if afraid saying it out loud would change the reality of your grades. Regardless, Seungcheol immediately picked up on your words, clapping his hands in excitement.

“Really? Isn’t that a distinction? That’s great, baby! You worked hard!” His smile gradually widened, dimples growing deeper. “Congratulations sweetheart, you’ve graduated!”

“I get to graduate…” Your eyes widened at the sudden realisation.

“Right? You said this was your last module before you can finally graduate.”

Seungcheol tilted his head. He had been on the receiving end of all your complaints and rants about the classes. It was the one module in your entire degree that had the highest difficulty, and he was well aware of how anxious you had been over passing. He had watched you pull multiple all-nighters for assignments, cancel plans to cram study sessions. Hell, you even had his contact blocked when you holed yourself in your room to complete the online exam, only being able to contact you after the designated 3 hours. Needless to say, he had all the confidence in the world that you would pass this module, despite your own pessimism.

“I get to graduate…” You repeated, not believing your own voice. Realisation hit, and your hands flew to cover your mouth. Your eyes started to water, tears of relief threatening to fall down your cheeks. Your voice trembled. But even through the tiny screen, you looked like the weight of world has been lifted off your shoulders.

“Cheollie… I can graduate!”

“Yes baby! My love is a graduand!” He chuckled, before leaning towards the camera. His face took up all the space on the screen, nose scrunching in concentration.

“Are– are you crying?!” Although it’s through a videocall, his worried voice didn’t fail to warm your heart. You let the tears fall freely as you nodded, teary eyes blurring your sight of the phone screen.

“I’m just so happy… I’m finally done with uni, Cheol!” He simply shook his head in disbelief, laughing along when he confirmed that you were okay.

“Yes! My little degree holder~” Seungcheol gaze wandered somewhere off-screen, presumably a clock, and he cursed as he realised the time.

“I have to go baby, I’ll see you at home? We can celebrate together later!” he promised, adjusting his hoodie and gathering his things. “Love you!”

You sniffled in response and shot him a grin. “Mmh, okay. Love you too.” Just like that, you sent him a small wave and ended the call.

-

Seungcheol came home a few hours later, a small cake in one hand and your favourite alcohol in another. However, he found you fast asleep on the couch, no doubt trying to wait up for him. He placed the items in the fridge, then proceeded to gather you in his arms. You curled up into his chest as he carried you to bed. Setting you on the bed, he went to wash up before joining you under the covers. You instinctively reached out for him the moment you sensed him, letting out a satisfied sigh when he pulled you even closer.

Seungcheol took a moment to study your sleeping face. Your eyes were a little puffy, evidence of your earlier waterworks. One hand thumbed your cheek, tracing the content smile on your lips. He planted a kiss on your forehead before turning in for the night as well.

You’ll just have to celebrate tomorrow instead.

[resi4skz]

O8 IMAGINE SERIES

HYUNJIN

Synopsis: Instructor Hyunjin wants to paint one of his students, but in a way only the way he wants.

Pairings: Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: teacher/student relationship, smut, pene*ration, p in v, MDNI

Words: 30k+

A/N: these series will be connected to each other and as the stories progress, couples from the previous part will be making an appearance in each part, even if cameo.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You had been sitting in front of your laptop, waiting as you sip on ice cold water. The humming of the AC and the chatter ofd the TV is in the background. You had been staring at the screen for the past 30 minutes. You were waiting to enroll in a class as it was the only class you had to take before graduating in the fall. You were nervous but you had the confidence that you'll get a spot just in time as it was a very popular and famous class, taught by Professor Hwang Hyunjin. Although he preferred students calling him Hyunjin.

Now, Professor Hyunjin was young and pretty attractive for a painting instructor. At the age of 25, he had pursued his passion for painting and even had a few pieces displayed in the university hallways. Apparently he had won a few prizes too. You had seen him once. At the cafeteria in between your classes. He was sitting, eating his lunch looking very.....handsome in the blue flannel with a white shirt underneath. That wasn't what made everyone drawn to him. No.

It was the glasses.

Thin framed with round shape, casting a soft glow around him. A strand of hair covering his forehead making him look irresistible yet sophisticated. And you swore time stopped when he made eye contact with you. The brown eyes blinked at you before looking down at the food and took a bite of a burger. Even eating, he looked attractive. Even a couple of students passing by couldn't help but stare, some even greeting him.

He looked like a model. With his sharp jawline and height, he could be mistaken as a model. That was the day you took an interest in his class. It was also the day you found out that he was the only instructor that taught pottery as well.

You bring your focus back to your laptop and move the cursor and click on his class. Scrolling down, you see a spot available and immediately click on it. It takes you to the next page. "I did it!" You say once you see your name on the class name list. "Yes!" You shoot your arms out in victory.

Graduation day seemed a lot closer to you now.

------------------------------------------------------------

Scratch that. Because you're sitting in the third row, in awe of the person standing in the middle of the room wearing a black, long sleeve sweater. His hair was tied back, a few strands sticking out as he spoke. "The trick with sketching is, you can erase as you go. But with painting," he says raising a paintbrush and drawing a red line on a canvas. "This is permanent. It will be permanent and erasing isn't as easy as you would think as many of may already know."

You couldn't help but pick up your stencil and your hand moves on your sketchbook as you look up and down making the right curves and lines. Yes, you wanted to draw him ever since you saw him in the university's cafeteria. You tuned everything out as you sketch in the book.

When you finally look up, you're met with paint splattered on an apron. You crane your neck up and you forget how to breathe. Up close, he was more beautiful. And those glasses-

"Y/N, is it?"

You visibly gulp and nod. Holy shit, he's tall. Taller than you. But how the hell did he know your name?

"May I?" He gestures to your sketch pad and you hand it to him. Your cheeks were red from embarrassment. "Wow. This is good. And you just did this just now?"

"Yes." It was a sketch of him, specifically his face on the entire page.

"Hmm, I don't like it when students don't pay attention but," he looks down at you and smirks but you swore you saw something in his eyes, "I'll let it go since you drew me and," his eyes travel down, as if to see your outfit. But it felt like.....like.....you don't know what it felt it. "And since you're a beautiful woman, I'll let it to go this once."

"Thank you," you managed to say. He called you beautiful and you don't know how to process such a compliment.

"Good girl." He gave the book back to you as he went back to his previous position.

Once again, you're taken aback with him calling you a 'good girl.' Is this why everyone was obsessed with him? Sure, he was a pretty guy and everyone in the class was in awe of him. As he continued to teach, you actually listened this time. He even demonstrated a painting in front of us.

The precision with each stroke of the paintbrush and the determined look on his face made everyone in awe once again. "Alright," he turns around. "I did the base. Who wants to finish the rest?"

A few hands go up and you feel eyes on you. That's when you realize he's actually looking at you. "How about you, pretty girl?"

"Me?"

"Yes, care to entertain us with your imagination?"

You gulp and stand up. Every eye is on you now. You mentally hype yourself up before walking over. You grab the paintbrush Hyunjin offers you and give him a small smile before standing in front of the black colored canvas. Taking a deep breath, you lift your hand.

------------------------------------------------------------

Hyunjin watches you paint and smiles as he sits on a stool nearby. He can't help but think how much you remind him of his college days. He was also picked to paint in front of his class. Intrigued, he watches your techniques as you take a different brush before dipping in a different color. He watches your hand and your eyes scrunch in concentration, which he found cute for some reason. "Rest of you are free to sketch, draw and paint for the rest of the class."

As the students got busy, he finds himself looking at you again. This time he watches your expressions. The small button nose, the full cheeks and the lips. Fuck, those plump lips would look so good around his co-

He blinks and shakes the thought away. What was he doing, thinking of a student like that?

He straightens himself again. His eye catches your butt as you bend to pick a fallen paintbrush on the floor. Lord, give him strength. He re-adjusted his jeans because he thought your ass was the perfect size for multiple of his hand prints.

Stop it, he told himself. She's your student and you're her teacher. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lets out a sigh when a pair of feet shuffle towards him. He looks up to find you standing.

"I'm... uhm done," you say shyly.

"Oh?" He cocks an eyebrow at her. "That was," he goes around her and his words gets caught in his throat, "....fast."

Holy shit.

There is no way she drew the whole thing in such a short amount of time. "This is...."

"Bad, I know."

"Are you kidding? This is good. In fact, so good that I want to hang it up in class." The vivid brush strokes of green, blue and white blended into the red and black, fhe red being the rose petals and the black being the rose turning into a black rose. Wow, just wow.

Your eyes widen in surprised. "You're pulling my leg."

Oh, he'd be pulling something alright if there wasn't an audience.

"I can assure you I'm not," he tells her.

"Oh."

"If you're not comfortable with it, I will just keep it in the back with the others or take it home." He didn't want to make you uncomfortable with the idea of your work hanging on a wall.

"No, it's okay," you smile. "You can put it up on a wall."

"Alright."

For some odd reason, you were happy that your work made him happy. You go back to your seat and just as you sit down, your phone buzzes in your jeans pocket. There was only one person who would text you in class.

Your roommate/friend, Felix.

F: bestie, when does your class finish?

Y/n: in an hour, why?

F: oh shit

Y/n: ??? Whats going on?

F: shes in the cafe again and I'm panicking

Y/n: ask her out already? You're such a simp

F: sigh, channie hyung is here, i'll talk to you later

Rolling your eyes, you pull out your sktechbook again. After a while, you felt something, like a pair of eyes watching you so you look up and almost choke of air. His head was resting on his hand, his elbows propped on the table. His bottom lip in between his teeth....

You cross your legs and pulled your hoodie up to hide the blush on your cheeks. Why was he looking at you like that? You shake off the feeling and go back to sketching for the rest of the class.

When you get back to your shared apartment, it smelled like cookies. "Felix? Did you bake again?" You say, walking into the kitchen. "Oh." You stop mid-step when you see Felix and some other guy standing in the kitchen.

"Oh, hey, Y/N," Felix smiles turning around. "Say hello to my other Australian brother, Chan."

"Hi. I'm Y/N. I've heard about you from Felix," you said.

"Good things I hope," Chan says and turns around. Your breath leaves your body as you look at him. Where does Felix finds these godly like men? "Felix tells me you're a painter?"

"Ah, yes. Last semester till I graduate," you replied.

"Are you, by any chance, in Hwang Hyunjin's class?"

You gape at him. "How did you know?!"

He chuckles, dimples forming on the left corner of his lips. "He's our friend."

"What?"

"Oh, Hyunjin is a very good friend of ours. We've known him since high school," Felix tells you.

"Ah," you nod your head. Again, where does Felix finds these men?!

"I hope he's not giving your any trouble?" Chan asked.

"Oh no no. He's a great teacher. He said he might teach us pottery too," you say, taking your phone out from your pocket.

"Well, if he bothers you, just tell us, yeah?"

You nod at him before you hear Felix shut the oven door, freshly baked cookies in his hand. "Alright, who wants some?"

"You know," you begin as you grab a cookie, "if you spent as much time as you do baking as you do on girls, maybe you'd have a girlfriend.by now."

Chan snorts and you bite into the cookie while Felix narrows his eyes at you. "Hey, I thought my cookies were delicious."

"I didn't say they weren't," you tell him, going for a second cookie. "I just said it wouldn't hurt to ask."

"Y/N," Felix pouts. "You know I can't go up to her and-"

Your phone ringing interrupts the conversation. "Sorry, I have to take this," you excuse yourself to your room and hold the phone to your ear. "Yes?"

"Open your email."

"Well, hello to you too, Maya," you grab your laptop and open the screen. You click on the email icon and click on the latest one. "Is this..."

"Yup. He's going to be giving 1 on 1 pottery lessons if we show him a painting or sktech after every class and he'll choose a student that he will teach. And...."

"And? What?" You ask, curious.

"He's already picked a permanent student for the lessons."

You scroll down and let out a gasp.

------------------------------------------------------------

"Alright, that's it for today," Hyunjin dismisses his class. "The students who are staying for pottery class can stay."

Every student exits the class except you. You get nervous as each student stepped out. You try your best to calm yourself but he comes out wearing a white shirt and worn out jeans. What a sight.

"Y/N?"

Now if only those hands would slide down your-

"Y/N?"

"Huh?" You snap back into reality and look at the man in front of you, sitting on a chair.

"Shall we?" He gestures to clay on pottery wheel.

"Oh. Right. Yes," you sit on a chair beside him. "I have to tell you that I have worked with clay before, maybe a few years ago so I'm out of touch."

"That's fine. I can help you," he gives you a smile and you swore you saw a hint of mischievous in it but that could be just you. You were in a trance, once again. "Bring back that touch of yours."

After a beat, he says, "Show me what you can do."

You raise your eyebrow.

"Just so I can know what I'm working with."

"Right." You press the pedal and the pottery wheel starts moving. You wet your hands and work on the glob of clay, making it wet with your fingers. You move your middle and ring finger in the middle and press firmly as the clay starts making its shape.

"Ah, no. Not like that. You'll make it out of shape," he tells you as his wet hand mends with your hand, pressing firmly. You realize the sudden close proximity and you don't dare look to your right. "There. If you make the base more studier, whatever you'll make won't break when you take it off for baking."

His hand was still on top of yours, his middle and ring finger mending with yours on the wet clay. "That's it," he says. His fingers press more firmly and in this moment all he wanted to do was put you on the table behind him. Have his way with you. Both of your fingers move in an up and down motion, mimicking a very certain move -- you couldn't put your finger on it. "Y/N? Are you alright?"

You finally look to the right, never realizing your breathing has gotten more frantic. He stares down at you, his eyes land on your parted lips then back to your gaze. He leans down, tilting his head along the way and all you could do was blink. "Y/N."

Fuck. Your name in that almost whisper, husky voice did things to your lady bits. "Hyunjin..."

That broke the damn wall. You heard him growl before smashing his lips down on yours. A whimper escapes your mouth as your body betrays you by moving your lips. His hand goes around the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your body.

You stand and fist his shirt, pulling him more into you. "Y/N, slow down, flower. You're going to-"

You push him off, coming to your senses.

"Y/N?"

"This was.....I'm sorry," you grab your things and run out before he could get a word out.

------------------------------------------------------------

For the next few weeks, you avoid him at all costs. As soon as the class was dismissed, you were the first one to exit. You needed to avoid him. You could feel him watching you, your every move in class. So you did your best and put all your focus on the paintings. Somewhere around second week, he started painting during class as well.

Flowers. All he drew was flowers. Pink, blue, yellow and red flowers. In all your 22 years, you have never found such an attractive man painting on a canvas, with sleeves rolled up. You had to force yourself to concentrate on your work.

He wasn't in any better position either. Whenever he saw you in his class, he was reminded of the kiss. He didn't want to kiss you, heck he wanted to do more than that. When you looked up, with your parted lips, he simply couldn't resist. You tasted like peaches. He wanted to peel off the layers and suck on the flesh but the look on your face when you pushed him off was enough for him to put the brakes on.

It was friday night and he was hanging out with his buddies. As he swirled the liquid in his hand, he was quiet more than usual. And it was obvious to others. "Hyunjin-ah, what's the problem? Why are you so quiet?" Chan asked, the oldest of them all.

"It's nothing," Hyunjin lied but a part of him wanted to tell Chan.

"If it's nothing, then come play with us!" Han, the caramel haired boy said.

Hyunjin opens his mouth but get interrupted with Changbin, the loudest of them all, and Seungmin, the puppy looking one came and sat down with Hyunjin. "Let's all just watch a movie, have some popcorn and snacks?"

Everyone turned to the maknae, Jeongin. His hand stopped mid air, a bag of chips in his hand. "What?"

"Yah! That's my bag of chips!" Leeknow exclaims, popping out of nowhere.

"I kissed a student," Hyunjin finally confesses.

But no one has seemed to hear him. He watched Leeknow trying to grab the bag of chips from Jeongin, Han and Felix in between them while the other 3 watched the show. "Hyung! We have more snacks! Stop!" Felix shouts, wedging himself between Leeknow and Han.

Hyunjin sighs and slams the glass down on the table in front of him. It makes everyone stop what they're doing. "I kissed a student!"

Eyes, 7 pair of eyes were now on him. Judegment, curiousity and shock all at once. "You kissed a st-- yah, are you insane?!" Changbin said.

"What do you mean you kissed a student?" Chan asks, surprised.

"How was it?"

Everyone, including Hyunjin, turn to look at Han. "What?" Han asks and Leeknow playfully slaps Han on the back of his neck. "Hey! What?"

"I...I wanted to stop her. But something about her makes me want to just..."

"Just what?" Changbin asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Bin, now is not the time," Chan warns before turning to Hyunjin. "What were you going to say?"

"I don't know," Hyunjin shrugs his shoulders. "Ever since I saw her in my class, she's been on my mind every day, sometimes at night. It's like whenever she's near, I can breathe. I don't feel suffocated. It's like she's the light at the end of the tunnel."

Felix pats his shoulder, smiling widely. "Bro, you know what that is, right?"

"Uh, no?"

"He won't know till you tell him, Felix," Leeknow points out.

"Tell me what?" Hyunjin asked.

Felix grins. "Do you know how much I love baking?"

"Yeah..."

"I love mixing the ingredients together in a bowl and spreading the cookies on a baking sheet."

"Just what are you getting at?" Hyunjin asked.

"What he's trying to tell you that maybe you like her," Chan chimes in. "Maybe more than you want to admit."

Hyunjin blinks. There's no way.........does he though?

"Oh man, he does!" Changbin says excitedly. "What's her name? What's her name?!"

"Yeah, we want to know who's got our dear friend in a whirlpool of infatuation," Han adds.

"Y/N. Her name is Y/N," Hyunjin answered.

Felix's smile falters as does everybody's. "This is....." Jeongin begins.

"Bro," Chan chimes in again, "that's Felix's roommate."

"And best friend," Felix adds, narrowing his eyes.

Oh shit. Hyunjin swallows the bile threatening to come out. "I... didn't know. I'm sorry."

"Look, her last relationship didn't end well and this might be the first time she's been interested," Felix says. "Just....go easy on her. She's not the best at expressing herself. Don't push her."

"Just like you're doing with that girl who comes in your cafe?" Chan teases, poking Felix on the arm making the younger one blush.

"Ah, Chan hyung," Felix rubs his ears.

"She doesn't make it easy for you though, Felix. You gotta ask her out for coffee or a drink," Chan pokes Felix again. "That way she knows you're interested in her."

Felix rolls his eyes. "Hyunjin, just..... don't make her sad, yeah? She's precious to me, so you better not break her heart."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Hyunjin smiled and watched his friends start teasing Felix more, poking fun at him for a having a crush on a girl who's a regular in his Bbokkari cafe. But unlike Felix, Hyunjin wasn't as shy unless it was Y/N.

------------------------------------------------------------

The weather was getting warmer each day and you were thankful for the AC in your shared apartment. But you were in the studio today, which also had an AC, working on a canvas and experimenting with oil based colors. Since it was a nice slow day with not a lot of students and staff in the university, you were surprised to find rhe studio empty. So you got all your supplies, wore your apron, tied your hair back and got to work. You also had put on your headphones as it tends to help you get in the zone.

It wasn't until few hours later that you noticed you had run out of the color pink. You knew there were more colors stored in the cabinet behind the teacher's desk. Pulling off your headphones, you open the cabinet and reach for the paint when a hand reaches it before you. You gasp and turn around and almost scream but his hand covers your mouth.

"Shhhh!" He says, his finger on his lips.

You pry off his hand and glare at him as you snatch the paint bottle off his hand. "What do you want?" You snap, walking back to your previous spot.

"I want to...talk."

You scoff, pouring the pink onto the paint pallete. "And I don't." But you did want to talk. For the past few weeks, ever since that kiss, he had invaded your thoughts despite avoiding him. You had sat in his class just to stare at him, his hands, his eyes as they twinkled when he talked about a certain art piece or the color of his lips when the bottom of his lip would be between his teeth as he painted.

But all it did was made you crave more. You admit that the kiss you shared with him was mind blowing. If you hadn't stopped when you did, only god knows where it would've ended.

But one thing had stuck with you ever since. He had called you 'flower.' The moment he said it, it had made your heart flutter. But you had to stop it because he's an instructor and you're a student. It was forbidden and frowned upon and you didn't want to be known as the girl who graduated just because you fooled around with the teacher.

"Y/N, I'm sorry for the other day. I know I shouldn't have kissed you."

"Yeah, you shouldn't have," you say.

"But-" you hear him sigh and turn around to see him walking away.

"I thought you wanted to talk?"

He stops, turns around. "You clearly don't want to talk so I'm just going to leave."

"So," you put the pallette down on the stool beside you and take your apron off. "We're just going to avoid each other then?"

"It was you who was avoiding me."

"Yeah, that's because..."

He takes a step closer to you. "Because?"

You felt heat rush to your cheeks. "Why do you draw flowers?"

"What?"

"I always see you draw flowers. Why is that?"

"I can't draw what I want? I like flowers," he says, gazing in your eyes.

"I see." You had hoped he would be more elaborate but....you sigh. You're finding this whole conversation hopeless. "Maybe it is best we don't see each other again." You grab your things and the unfinished canvas, under your arm.

Something screamed in his mind to stop you. So he grabbed your arm, stopping you from leaving. "Let go."

"No," he says. "Not until you tell me why you've been avoiding me."

"Because I don't want to and just want to get through this class so I can graduate!"

That answer alone wasn't enough for him. He could see your red cheeks and your breathing becoming quicker. His eyes flick between your eyes and lips. You struggle out of his grip but he's determined to make you stay. He pushes you backwards till your back hits a wall, the canvas dropping on the floor with a thud along with your bag. He pins your arms on your sides preventing you from moving.

"I said let-mmpf," your eyes widen in surprise as a pair of warm lips land on yours. You thrash your whole body, and somehow manage to free your arms and push him away, just enough for you to breathe.

"Flower. My beautiful flower," he whispers, lightly caressing your lip and cheek with his thumb.

You could only look up at him, the soft and tender touches he's giving you made your heart flutter once again. You had asked yourself why you had been avoiding him. The only answer you got was that he was the teacher and you were the student. "Hyunjin," you whispered, parting your lips.

His eyes harden, filled with lust. But it was you this time. You fisted his shirt and pulled him towards you. He lets out whimper and instantly relaxes against you as he melts into the kiss. "Tell me you feel it. Tell me you feel what I feel," he whispers, placing your hand on his chest.

You feel it. You feel his heart thumping against his chest. And pretty fast too. You look up to see him gazing down at you. His eyes filled with warmth. Maybe even love. But that wasn't going to happen, not to you. "Tell me."

"I want you," you say.

“You want me?”

You nod, a smile displaying on your face. “I want you.” He leans back in, cupping your cheek and kisses you hard as his body pushes against yours. You move with him as he walks backwards towards the only empty desk, the teacher's desk, and lifts you onto it. 

His hands explore every inch of you that he can reach while your fingers tangle in his long luscious locks and scratch over his shoulders and up his arms. His hands slide around your waist, going under your black tanktop.

He breaks the kiss only to run his lips over the rosy flesh of your neck. He then whispers into your skin between each kiss. “Tell me to stop.” He pulls one shoulder strap of your tanktop off your shoulder. "I've wanted you since the day you came into my class. Tell me to stop."

Something about the way he asks you to tell him to stop, spurred you on even more. Pushing his head further into the crook of your neck, you tilt your head to give him more and better access to explore. You had also wanted him, more so than him. “No one is telling you to stop.”

Upon hearing that, his grip tightens around you, sucks a mark into the skin right below your jaw and you pull at his shirt with an elated moan, giving him the hint to take it off.

His clumsy fingers struggle to pull off your tanktop as you attempt to unbutton his jeans. He reaches his goal before you do but then he stops all movement when he feels your hand go inside his jeans, just enough to catch his attention, you find his growing erection and wrap your hand lightly stroking it causing him to buck his hips.

Hyunjin moans at the feel of your hands, the same hands that made him fall in love with your paintings. He leans his forehead against yours, squeezing his eyes shut as you stroke him slowly. “Fuck, please don’t, I - fuck, baby, flower I won't last."

"Hyune," you whisper as you gently place your palm on his cheek, making him look at you. His expression changes, his eyes raging with lust as you lean up giving him a small peck on his lips.

"Fuck," he shoves his briefs down as you slide off your shorts. You yelp when he tugs at your legs. "Tell me you're mine," he says as his hand moves on its own as he gazes into your eyes, looking for an answer. You watch his hand travel down in between your legs and swipes over your clothed clit. "Fuck me, is that all for me?"

"Hyunjin, please," you plead but it comes out as a moan.

“Please tell me I can feel you," he says, his finger slighlty swiping over your panties. "Can I?” 

You nod as he hooks a finger into the dampness of your panties and pulls it to the side. You hold your breath as you feel a finger slip into your waiting cunt. "Breathe." You do as he says and breathe in his ear, soft moans escape your lips as his free hand cradles the side of your neck. “Please look at me, baby.”

He runs his thumb over your cheek, relishing in your beautiful auburn eyes. “So pretty. It feels like a dream.”

You shake your head and muttering between moans. “Not a dream."

He slips in another finger and he lets out the most amorous maon. “Please tell me I can.” He leans his forehead against yours, bottom lip between his teeth, his desperate eyes reflecting the look in your own.

“Yes," you nod. "I want you too."

“Have you ever.....thought about it?” He asked but you’re shaking your head before he can even finish his sentence. “You’re all I ever think about,” He whispers as he hooks his thumbs into the thin straps of your panties. “You’re all I’ve wanted for the past 3 weeks.” 

“The kiss that we shared-" you begin but his puts his finger on your lips.

“I was the one that kissed you.” He’s quiet, staring back at you with a smile. “But then you kissed me too...” He laughs at the glare you give him. But you moan when his fingers are filling you again and you gasp while staring into his eyes.

You couldn't contain the noises that come out of your lips. "Hyunjin, please," your fucked out gaze stares into his, the moment feeling like you're hypnotized. He then moves, scissors his fingers into you, stretching you out and you whine when suddenly you feel the loss of his fingers. "Why'd you stop - oh fuck," you gasp from the stretch of him replacing his fingers with his length. 

“Fuck, shit, you feel...oh my god.” Hyunjin stills with a groan, his forehead resting on your shoulder while he silently wills himself not to come undone. Not yet, when he just got you. He sucks in a breath before he pulls back. "Tell me you're mine," he whispers, thrusting into you slowly. "Tell me."

You cup his cheek. "I'm yours."

He lifts his head to look at you as he sinks back into you. “Again.”

Cupping his face with both of your hands as you kiss him, hard before letting go. "I'm yours, Hyune."

"My flower." He picks up the pace, falls into a sloppy rhythm that’s accompanied by a fit of moans and grunts. 

"The door," you pant, suddenly remembering.

"I locked it after I came inside," he pants, struggling to keep his eyes on you, which flutter shut with each thrust as he feels himself closer and closer to his climax. “Baby, I won’t, fuck I won't last.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, one of his wraps around your waist, tightly, while the other rests on your thigh before slithering over to softly pinch and rub your clit. 

“Hyune, you’re gonna make me - I'm gonna -” You get cut off with a sloppy kiss, his tongue brushes over your parted lips to request access. You gladly grant it by opening yours.

“If you're going to tell me that you’re gonna cum I won’t last," he whispers against your lips and you moan against his.

“Please," you're breathing hard at this point, pleading him to let you cum. "Make me cum."

“Flower, baby, you’re gonna -” Now you're the one to kiss him. It’s a messy combination of teeth and tongue but you love it. Even he welcomes it.

You both pull away, moans ripping through your chests as you grip his arm tighter.

“I’m cumming, fuck, I'm going to come.” Hyunjin goes to pull out but you stip him by wrapping your legs around his waist. "Y/N, what-"

"Inside."

"Baby, are you sure?"

You nod in response. "I'm on the pill." He groans and thrusts harder into you as you almost scream his name when his fingers toy with your clit. It’s loud and messy and beautiful. "Oh my god, Hyunjin!" You shout as your orgasm hits you the hardest one yet. He slam his hips one, two, three times before coming to a stop with a groan. You could feel it, his seed painting your walls white.

Once you’ve both come down from your high, Hyunjin pulls out and you groan at the feeling. Both of you don't speak as he grabs a handful of tissues to clean you up before you two put your clothes back on. You break the comfortable silence. "So what now?" You ask, looking at him.

"Now," he smiles, raking his finger through his hair. "I ask you a question."

You blink one, two times. "Which is?"

He grabs your hand, twining his fingers with yours. "Be my girlfriend?"

"I thought we went over this a minute ago?"

"Doesn't hurt to be sure of it."

This man. He just fucked your brains out and wants to sure if you're his? You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Mr. Hwang Hyunjin, I was yours the day I saw you in the cafeteria," you finish your answer with a kiss on his lips.

------------------------------------------------------------

"Ugh, you're nauseating," Felix rolls his eyes at his friend, who was smiling at her phone.

Y/N sticks her tongue out at him. Before he could say anything, his phone buzzes in his pocket. His eyes widen at the screen.

LK: bro, one of our ovens just stopped working completely and we're behind orders!

F: okay, i'll come by later

LK: also.....

F: ???

LK: Mia may have gotten in a quarrel with a customer

F: WHAT

LK: and the customer is creating havoc. SOS

Fuck, why does this have to happen to him?

F: on my way

A/N: phew! One member down! Can you guess which one is next? :)

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Your Personal Ghost｡⋆.

Brahms Heelshire x plus size reader

As a writer, you need peace and quiet but it seems the ghost in your new home has some other ideas for you

Warnings: paranoia, sort of stalking, usual Brahms shenanigans, nudity, little bit of smut, m and f masturbation, voyeurism

WC: 861

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Halloween Celebration

That feeling was back, the feeling that you were being watched, like eyes were cutting into the back of your head, observing every move you made. A shiver rolled down your spine but you shook it off in favour of continuing your work.

The house was old, very fucking old, so it was bound to have a few ghosts. That is what you bought the place, you hoped that those spirits could help inspire you, your publisher was getting very pushy for a new book.

You had hoped that the manor in the picturesque English countryside, which was being sold for a very reasonable price, would give you some ideas and motivation for a new novel. But so far, your writer’s block had turned into a full on story dam and you had developed a pervasive feeling of paranoia. The old ass furniture that creaked when you so much as looked at it didn’t help much either.

The small cursor on your laptop screen seemed to mock you as it blinked away in your empty document. You had written about 30 story ideas since you moved in a month ago but you deleted all of them, or at least you assumed you deleted them because they would disappear when you woke up in the morning. None of the stories felt right, they were all either too overdone or not creative enough for a full length book and it was quickly driving you crazy.

“God!” You groaned and leaned back into your desk chair, covering your eyes with frustration. “How the fuck does Stephen King do this?” You whined as your fingertips dug into your temples in an attempt to massage away the tension headache that was beginning to form. 

Your shoulders sagged as you sat forwards again. “I need a break.” The legs of the chair scraped against the old hardwood, echoing through the otherwise silent office. A glance at the window revealed yet another cloudy day and you wondered if it was ever sunny here. 

The eyes of the creepy portraits in the hall followed you as you walked by, like they always did but you truly didn’t have the energy to deal with them today. Your bedroom was a complete mess but you told yourself it was a functional mess as you stepped around several piles of clothes and books on your way to the bathroom. 

A huge claw-foot tub rested beneath a large window overlooking the expansive grounds of the manor, providing you with literally the best baths you had ever taken. Soon enough, hot steam began to fill the room and the sound of running water overpowered the buzz of fear that almost constantly filled your head. A couple drops of lavender essential oils and some bubble bath completed your little ritual.

Shedding off your ratty writing clothes, you stepped into the tub. Immediately the hot water relaxed your tense muscles and you breathed out a sigh of relief. You sank further into the water, letting your tired eyes flutter shut as your hands travelled down the length of your soft body, coming to rest at the seam of your thighs.

“Maybe I need to properly relax. It has been a while.” You murmured to yourself as your fingertips began to explore your sensitive inner thighs. A quiet mewl slipped through your lips, stoking the fire that was beginning to blaze in your belly. Your hips bucked into your hand, keening for your own touch.

“Fuuuck.” You whined as you finally brushed against your clit, sending a ripple of pleasure through your body. Water light lapped at the edges of the porcelain tub as your body moved, chasing your end. But even through the sound of the water and your breathless moans, you heard something else.

A loud creak and the trembling of the wall. You froze and looked around the room, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. There was a crack in the wallpaper on the wall opposite you and you swore that something moved behind it but as you waited, holding your breath in fear, nothing happened. 

You groaned before you let out a relieved laugh. “God, this place is haunted.” Your hands did not return to your previous activities, instead you shut your eyes and let the still warm water caress your body, unaware of the very real presence behind the wall.

His cooling cum coated Brahms’s hand and pants as he struggled to catch his breath through his pale mask. His eyes remained locked on your barely concealed body as his cock began to twitch back to life, he wished that you would play with yourself again but he was still content to see you completely bare to him, just as he had dozens of times before.

He so badly wished to reveal himself to you, to have you touch him instead of only imagining it while he used your stolen clothes to wrap around his cock. You would stay here forever with him, he would guarantee it but he had to be patient. At least today he didn’t have to sneak out of the wall and delete your manuscript again.

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[goddessjichu]

in which jungkook only wants two things from you: for you to rest and your attention.

a/n: just straight up fluff, no plot whatsoever, i've never written for jungkook 🤧// i've never done this before and i'm very embarassed for some reason but. this one's for you @ahundredtimesover 💕

"Hey."

"Hm?"

"Heeeeey." Jungkook tries again, barely getting a reaction out of you.

"Baby, come on." He whines some more, and it's when he nudges you a little too hard that your cursor goes out of the screen that you finally look at him.

"What?" You give in, looking at him deadpanned. Jungkook doesn't mind though, simply grins and bumps his forehead into yours.

Fighting back a smile, you huff before asking once again.

"What is it? You know I still have to finish this."

You should've known your words would simply go through his ears, not a single one registered into his mind because Jungkook simply pulls you away from your laptop until you plop into his lap, which you really can't complain about.

He wraps his arms around you, puts his chin on your shoulder before tightens his grip as if you'd go away if he didn't.

"You need to rest." He mumbles against your head, his lips tickling your hair.

"You know I need to finish this, Kook." You sigh, though the way you succumb into his chest says otherwise. You don't realize just how much in need of a rest you actually are until you're here, in his hold, wrapped in his warmth.

"You've been working on that thing for three hours." He hums, lulling you slightly from side to side. "A little rest wouldn't hurt."

"But..." You say, fighting a losing battle for no reason at all. Perhaps it's just your conscience, so you can reason out later on that you did try to fight him even halfheartedly.

His lips find the apple of your cheek, interrupting words that you don't even really want to say.

"Rest." He says sternly, tightening his arms around you to make a point.

"You just..." You yawn, already out of it. One minute wrapped around Jungkook's arm and you're this weak already. "--you just want my attention."

"I'm not denying that." You can hear his grin even if you can't see him, and you feel his lips on top of your head before he continues. "But I want you to rest, too. Rest for a bit, okay? You deserve it."

With another yawn and a nod of your head, you cuddle into his chest and make yourself comfortable in his lap. "Just... for a bit."

It's not even five minutes later that you fall asleep, your soft snore filling the quiet room as Jungkook quietly chuckles at this habit of yours. He doesn't know why you always try to fight him when it comes to stuff like this; a part of you wants to prove him wrong for whatever reason.

He finds it endearing though, and he knows he just needs to push you a bit when it comes to your wellbeing. He drops another kiss on top of your head before he leans back against the feet of the sofa--his legs are going to get numb once you wake up, but he doesn't mind as long as you're rested and comfortable.

a/n 2: i hope all of you reading this are getting a proper rest <3 don't work too hard, people

[notspidergoth]

HOBIE BROWN X BURNT OUT READER

Summary: Reader is overworking themselves, Hobie helps them out! (romantically implied)

Warnings: Forgetting to eat, almost fainting, my sleep-deprived grammar, oh and cursing

A/N: (totally not projecting right now how am I still in school. fucking finals... UGH!!)

Wordcount: 928 words

You continued to type on your laptop, vigorously working the paper your English teacher thought would be a good idea to assign a week before final exams.

There was still some homework to catch up on, pages of mindless busywork to jot out. Even yet there were still study guides to fill out and memorize, and did you end up finishing that project on-

Your train of thought was broken off by the sound of your bedroom window being slid open. The culprit looked up at you before closing the window behind him.

"Hey," Hobie greeted, walking over and leaning against your desk.

You moved some of the papers scattered on your desk out of his way, before continuing to type down your thesis statement.

"No 'hey' back today?" he smirked, tilting his head.

"Yeah, no, yeah, hey Hobie." you muttered, bowed over your laptop.

"When'd this all happen?" he gesturing to the stacks of papers on your desk.

"When all my teachers simultaneously decided to be fucking cunts."

He chuckled, sitting down on your bed. For the past while Hobie had been coming over to visit you, the both of you keeping each other company from time to time.

It was like he could sense when you were neglecting yourself at this point, always coming at the most opportune times.

"You seem pretty stressed, when's the last time you've taken a break?"

"A break? Sorry, but have you seen what I have left to do here?" you gestured, exasperated.

"I take that as a no for break-taking."

"Nope." you sighed, flipping through your notes.

"You at least eat something earlier?" he asked questioningly.

"Yeah, sure, yeah." you waved him away, reading through highlighted bullet points.

"Alright then." he shrugged, holding his hands up in surrender.

A couple hours past, and the two of you sat in comfortable silence with one another. You could faintly hear heavy guitar emitting from his phone, and the sound of him chuckling at whatever he was scrolling through. You could just imagine how his face looked when he smiled, the way the corners of his mouth would slant upwards into that arrogantly smug grin that just fit him so well, his lip piercing shifting ever so slightly when he-

"Doin alright?" Hobie looked over at you, "Ya kinda spaced out for a bit."

You looked up at Hobie, and then back down at the blinking cursor on your screen, the last edit made 11 minutes ago.

"Shit."

"Think its bout time you took a break." Hobie sat up, looking at you with concern.

Your brain finally caught up to the conversation. "Huh? No, I'm good, I'm good, sorry."

"Don't apologize." He said, getting up and leaning against your desk once again. "Its been awhile, lets go grab something to eat."

You looked back down at your paper, not nearly as close to done as you had wanted. "I can't, not right now... I'm almost finished it though!" You smiled tiredly, trying to hype yourself up for the remainder of the work left.

Hobie looked over at you, the piles of homework on your desk, and then back at you, before closing your laptop shut.

"Hey!-"

"Nope. C'mon, you're takin a break." he deadpanned, serious.

You were about to retaliate once more before he shot you a glare. You knew if you didn't stop now, he'd end up dragging you away from your desk. Or even worse, keep your laptop hostage. You shuddered at the thought, before you saw movement beside you.

Hobie held out a hand for you to grab, looking down at you from where he stood. The light in your room bounced off him, his metal studs and pins shining in the light.

You grabbed his hand, allowing him to help pull you up. Spots dotted their way into your vision as you stood, feeling the world spin around you. When was the last time you ate? You gripped onto his hand tighter, waiting for the lightheaded feeling to pass.

"You good?" He looked down at you, faux uncaringness hiding the worry across his face.

"Mhm, yup, all good, perfect, just feel like fainting, gimmie a sec."

He continued to hold you up as you supported your weight against him. It was warm, comforting almost if you could ignore the sickly feeling in your stomach.

You were glad your body granted you the ability to see once more, blinking at your surroundings, only to be met with Hobie, having leaned down to look at you. His sharp dark eyes were laced with concern as they looked into yours.

"Shit, have you not eaten yet today?"

Thinking about it now, you couldn't quite recall when you last ate, but you couldn't quite remember much of anything staring into his eyes. You saw them soften before you, before he stood up straight again.

"Fucks sake, c'mon, lets go." Hobie rolled his eyes, putting one of your arms around his shoulders, holding you upright.

"Where we going?" You asked, feeling confident enough to stand on your own, but not wanting to pull away from his warm touch.

"Food joint. Someone smart as you'd think eating's a bright idea, no?" He chuckled, leading you through your bedroom door.

"Not taking the window this time?" you joked, giggling. He had always entered and exited your apartment through the windows, no matter how many times you've asked him to use the front door.

A smile pulled across his face, "Yeah, yeah, shuddup."

The two of you laughed, holding onto him as you left behind your homework.

A/N: (lets see if i have the mental capacity to keep posting!!! remember to eat and drink water!)

[lokischocolatefountain]

Secret || Mister Miller

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: 18+ (Warnings: No outbreak, huge age gap, infidelity in later chapters, voyeurism, creepy Joel, masturbation (male and female), bfd!Joel)

Word count: 1.3k words

Summary: Your shameful secret you keep from your boyfriend is not such a secret after all. Your boyfriend’s dad Joel Miller knows what you do…very intimately.

A/N: I don’t know what’s with me writing all this hefty age gap Joel fics with dark themes… I need to be lobotomised. Or I should go back to writing more sweet husband!Javi fics… I’m planning on making this a three parter or maybe even five… Let me know where you’d like to see this go.

Checking once again if he was asleep, you slipped out of his bed. Laptop, phone and headphones in hand, you made your way out of his room, making sure to be very quiet when shutting the door. It had become something of a routine since you started dating. He was good, better than some boyfriends you had in the past who wouldn’t even last five minutes. He treated you well, asked you what you liked in bed and took your advice. Which was why you felt guilty each time you escaped his room in the night to take care of yourself in the living room.

Your parents were on a summer vacation of their own, a long road trip to visit distant cousin you knew fuck all about. You would’ve gone even though you didn’t want to. But Matt begged you to come with him to stay in Texas for the summer. It was an attractive idea— you’d never been to his part of Texas before and you knew you’d miss him a lot. But you didn’t want to inconvenience him or his dad. Thankfully, Mr. Miller was kind and opened his doors to you and his son for the summer.

In return, you helped around the house. He never asked. But he was a busy man. A single dad to Matt and his sister Sarah since their mother left, being busy was his normal state of being. He was the owner of a small construction company he ran with the help of his brother.

Before getting up to your secret nightly activity, you headed to the kitchen and began doing the dishes. Matt cooked well, but he was atrocious with cleaning up. So you did that. It was also to somewhat reduce the guilt that built up in you for hiding things from him. When finished with the dishes, you settled on the floor with your laptop on the coffee table.

Your hand played with your necklace out of habit. Tracing the M of the pendant attached to the necklace Matt gave you for your anniversary. You dropped it, guilt searing your thumb in the M shape of the pendant for doing this without his knowledge.

Shame hit you right as the website loaded, images appeared of naked women posed amidst naked men for video thumbnails. Each provided you a glimpse into the kind of degrading activity each actress engaged in for you to get off in shame. Your eyes caught a thumbnail of a man— older, broad, muscular with a girl your age. You hovered the cursor over the image and it provided you a short peek into what was inside- the man, his hand gripping her hair and pounding into her hard and fast as her face contorted in pleasure. You didn’t care that it was all fake, that the actress probably didn’t even feel good.

You clicked on the video and skipped the poorly acted introduction to get to the good part. Headphones in and volume on high, hand inside your shorts as you touched yourself, you didn’t know you weren’t the only voyeur in the room.

Having come downstairs to fetch himself some water, Joel had noticed you crouching in between his couch and coffee table with your laptop playing something downright filthy. He should’ve walked away, given you your privacy. But goddamn it, you let out a sweet little whine, barely audible and his feet glued themselves to the ground.

It was also because of how uncharacteristic it was of you to do something like this. He’d known you for a while now and you’d always been sweet. Too sweet for his son, if you asked him to be honest. You were slightly older than Matt, having begun your Masters with a little bit of a break after your Bachelors. You were a good influence on him, he’d say. But clearly his son hadn’t been good to you, if he had to go by how you were touching yourself to porn in his living room.

Now, he knew it was wrong. No decent man would be aroused at the sight of his son’s girl getting herself off. But you were on his living room floor, using his wifi and you sounded gorgeous making those little whines and whimpers. If he had to guess the sort of thing you liked—and he never thought of such a thing before—it would be one of those erotic novels with shirtless men on the cover. Not this. Not videos of a man who fucked a girl like she was nothin’, picked her up and threw her around and brought his hand down on her to make her stay put and take whatever he gave her.

He put his hand down his sweatpants, just as you had yours down those little shorts you wore around his house. He couldn’t see anything of you. Just the back of your head. For Joel, that was enough. Just knowing that this innocent little thing was getting off on watching a man use a girl like that was enough.

Eyes fixed on you, he stroked his cock, imagining he had a nice wet cunt around it instead of his hand. The man on your screen had the girl pushed against a wall as he pounded into her, her eyes rolled back into her skull and she had her lips parted, presumably moaning in false enthusiasm for the man.

He’d been starved for too long. There was no other explanation for why he felt good watching that fake shit, especially so far away from the screen and with no audio.

He screwed his eyes shut as he got close, imagining himself as the man in the screen, getting to fuck a pretty thing like that. A girl on his bed, against his wall, on her knees with his cock drilling into her holes. He imagined that his hand, large and callused from decades of hard labor, around a pretty throat. Holding it along with a necklace with a gold M pendant dangling off of it. Her eyes rolled back and her lips— your lips — parted as you struggled to breathe. He leaned against the wall as his knees weakened, the image of you in his head strong as he stroked himself. You on his bed, you against his wall, you on your knees for him— and with a whimper he hid by biting down on his lip, he came. White hot cum coated his hand and fuck, what a waste when it’d look so pretty on you.

Fuck!

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

He took one last look at you before rushing back upstairs to his room. On the way, he checked if Matt’s door was still closed. It was.

He’d been starved too long. That was all. Nothing else. He’d done too long without a girl and you were the nearest one, cleaning up after his son and wishing him a “Good Morning, Mister Miller” every morning and asking “How was your day, Mister Miller?” when they sat together to eat whatever Matt cooked. It was just proximity.

There was no other explanation.

He’d been…active in his youth. That’s how he had two kids at an age where he was supposed to be a kid himself. But things died down later. Perils of parenting and a contracting business. There were women. Fleeting relationships and even more fleeting fuck buddies who’d all gone off to be with someone else. Now, there was just work. Hell, the last time he picked up a pretty thing at a bar was Tess.

Tess. That was it.

He decided he would give her a call, see if she still had the habit of cheatin’ on that useless husband of hers. Get rid of the images of you in his head with images of Tess.