#i could break it down in multiple forms

[katsdynam1ght]

in the interest of feeding the people that follow me content while i am unable to write fic (college is killing me) do you guys want to see my breakdowns of how i’d group up poly class A

[gay-dorito-dust]

I have been binging your work!

I don't know if this breaks your trauma rule or not, but (with the guys of your choosing as long as Ratio is there) how would the guys react to losing reader (they haven't confessed feelings yet) during a mission and thinking they died. Then, the reader reappears a week later bandaged up, but alive. Maybe spouts their confession first? ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

I adore your writing. Thank you!

This is way too fucking long, so be warned. It’s like I rammed 4 mini stories in one but got lost at some point cuz I left this ask to collect dust. Also thanks for enjoying my writing it’s much appreciated. :) 🦦🐿️

Sunday:

The moment he got news that you’ve been assumed dead in the aftermath of a dangerous mission, he looses composure really quickly.

Loosing Robin was one thing but loosing you on top of that was the straw that broke the camels back.

He originally doesn’t believe that you were gone, he refuses to as he practically tears his office to shreds in a fit of anger and grief before forcing himself to regain composure and clean up after his outburst. He needed to in order to keep up the illusion that he was the levelheaded leader The Family needed in these moments of chaos and mistrust.

Even if he himself was breaking down internally alongside everyone else, hellbent on finding the culprit for your death and punishing them so severely that they’d beg for death. He’d avenge you in anyway he could, even if it meant sending out the bloodhound family on a wild goose chase that only ends in dead ends, he would get you justice no matter how it may come.

His heart had died alongside you that day.

So when a week passes and he finally has you back in his arms, all the while being carful with your wounds as his eyes searched you over in a way you weren’t use to.

‘You’re alive.’ He breathes out in relief as he then begins to laugh and rest his head against yours, breathing you in deeply as he relishes in this long awaited moment. ‘Of course you’re alive.’ He mutters.

‘Sunday,’ you began but Sunday was quite to cut you off.

‘Do you know how I felt thinking you were dead? Driving myself insane to prove that you were still alive anyway I could as not to bear the idea of walking through this life without the one person I love so dearly.’ Sunday takes a brief pauses in his monologue, feeling out of breath after having put everything out into the open before continuing. ‘I thought my heart had stopped beating that day and now I have you bad in my arms.’ Sunday then chuckles darkly as he gripped you tighter. ‘I’ll ensure that I’d never have to revisit that part of my life ever again.’

‘Sunday-‘

‘Shhh.’ Sunday cuts you off once more, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he holds you close to his chest, rubbing your back soothingly. ‘Just know that what I do after this, I do out of my love for you.’ He says against your forehead before pressing another kiss there for good measure.

Jing yuan:

Loss wasn’t new to Jing Yuan.

He has experienced it in multiple forms throughout his life, but that didn’t made the news of your death any less painful for the General.

While his mind might’ve made peace with the fact that you were gone, his heart however did not as he would find himself in the places that you often vacated to in moments of stress, or to just be left alone for a while with your thoughts. So to no longer see you in any of those hidden spots -waiting for him to find you like you usually did- only worsened the grief he felt in his heart as he sat himself down and allowed the memories to pass over him in waves.

You were both so happy together and felt a sense of fulfilment that could only be achieved when you were within the other’s presence; A feeling that was uniquely yours and yours alone that could never be replicated, ever. For no one could ever come close to replacing you, nor the companionship you and he had for each other that many assumed would blossom into something more; Jing Yuan also shared the same sentiments as they did, but just as he built the courage to push that boundary between the two of you, you were taken from him before he could utter a single word.

So when a week passes and Jing Yuan found your battered and beaten form in one of your secret spots, back resting against a tree with your eyes closed.

‘Y/n?’ He called out and your eyes opened upon hearing his voice and looking at him with a weak smile. ‘Hey General, miss me?’ You said as you struggled to get up to your feet, only to stumble forward and into Jing Yuan’s chest as his strong yet gentle hands hold you in place.

‘More than you could ever hope to know.’ Jing yuan said as he focused on how you felt beneath his hands, warm and alive.

‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting.’ You muttered against his chest as his warmth made you realised just how tired you were from everything you’ve experienced this last week alone. ‘I never meant to keep you waiting in fear that you’d forget about me if I don’t stay in your life long enough.’ You admit and Jing Yuan instinctively presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, holding you protectively.

‘I could never forget about you my beloved.’ Jing Yuan reassured you as he looked you deep into your eyes. ‘You’ve managed to carve your place within my heart and soul, so much that there isn’t a day where you aren’t all I think about, regardless of whether or not your by my side or far away.’ He finished by pressing a gentle kiss to the gauze on your cheek, chuckling upon seeing your cute attempts of burrowing your face into his chest.

‘How long have you’ve been waiting to say this.’ You asked, thankful that he was the one to admit his feelings first, as you would’ve had a hard time articulating your words as fluidly as he could.

‘For a very long time.’ Jing Yuan replied with a small smile as he then proceeded to lift you into his arms, cuasing you to squeal in surprise, as he made sure to be carful of your wounds and began walking to the nearest medics to make sure your wounds weren’t going to be trouble later on.

Aventurine:

He didn’t know what to think when you were pronounced dead, all Aventurine could feel in that moment was an overwhelming numbness that encased him entirely.

The only light left in his life had been snuffed out, plummeting him into utter and total darkness he had once been well acquainted with until you came along, giving him a reason to keep looking forward despite everything.

You were no longer here to hold onto his left hand before he could even think of hiding it behind his back out of habit, you were no longer here to be his reason, his comfort, his safe place. You were taken away from him unfairly and once again Aventurine found himself asking the same question he has been asking himself for a long time; why everyone was born into this life just to die.

So when a week passes and Aventurine finds himself sat on a bench somewhere, still not dealing well then than he was the week of your assumed passing, lost in his own thoughts when someone took a seat next to him. Aventurine was just about ready to tell them to go away, when he saw just who was sitting next to him; you.

‘I know, I look like shit but you don’t have to look at me like that.’ You spoke upon feeling his eyes gaze upon the gauze on your cheek, then towards the array of bandages that littered the rest of your body.

‘I thought you died.’ He hissed, emotion was heavy in his voice as his eyes became bleary with unshed tears as he felt his breathing become heavy with the reality that you were alive. He didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t in that moment as his mind raced. And it wasn’t until you reached out to grasp his left hand and intertwine your fingers together, squeezing, did everything finally became clear to him.

‘I thought I was too at one point but there was something that kept me from journeying over to the afterlife.’ You admit, looking over at him and smiling sweetly, wanting nothing then to calm his thoughts and reassure him that this wasn’t a dream.

‘And what was that?’ He laughs humourlessly as he stares back at you, wanting to hear what excuses you could come up with for faking being dead for a week. ‘Willpower? Determination?’

‘You Kakavasha.’ You replied straightforwardly and his breath hitched in his throat. You rarely used his actual name unless it was absolutely serious. ‘You were all I thought about as I pushed through my injuries.’ You told him as you continued. ‘Kakavasha is waiting for me was just about all I could think about for a week straight.’ You finished as though you didn’t just confess that he was your soul motivator in staying alive.

‘Really?’ Aventurine said softly, finding it impossible that he could possibly be your reason for anything. ‘Why?’

‘Yes really.’ You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you rested your head against his shoulder. ‘As for why, it’s because I like you more then did let myself admit, but i just wanted you to know incase anything truly bad were to ever happen to me-‘

‘No.’ Aventurine cut you off suddenly, squeezing your hand as though he were afraid. ‘Nothing is going to happen to you, not now. not ever. I just got you back.’ He adds resting his head against your own in a desperate attempt of feeling more of your against him. ‘Just stay with me…please.’ He begs you in a whisper as he nuzzled further into you. ‘and don’t go anywhere I can’t follow. I don’t think I can bear the thought of loosing you again.’

You smiled softly as you just whispered back against the skin of his neck. ‘As long as you don’t go anywhere I can’t follow. I like my crush to be alive and close by even if he can be a pain in my ass sometimes.’

Aventurine chuckles, his heart becoming whole again as he made you cuddle into his side, kissing your head once more as you took this moment to familiarise yourselves with each other. ‘At least I’m a pleasurable pain in the ass.’ He teased and you pinch his side, causing him to flinch, but his smile remained and this time his smile was genuine.

His light has came home.

Ratio:

Fully believed that he’d see you when the mission ended, knowing just how talented and dedicated to the craft you were, and having faith that this would be a measly walk in a park for you.

Only to receive word that you were one of the many who were assumed dead when you weren’t found amongst the living nor the dead.

Veritas tries to remain as levelheaded and logical as possible during this time and continue life as normal. However found himself retracting from everyone else and going none contact, more so specifically with the people you were once associated with, and instead focused heavily on his studies and academics to an unhealthy extent.

A week passes and Veritas feels as though he’s seen a ghost the moment he saw you in his peripheral vision, bandaged and dressed in ripped clothing but still somehow finding it in you to smile.

‘You idiotic Buffon!’ He exclaims as he walks towards you.

‘Well that’s a nice way to greet someone you care about.’ You replied as you readied yourself for a massive rant about how stupid you were and so on, but instead you were held against his chest as he burrows his head into your neck.

‘I thought you died.’ He says in a whisper as he breathed you in. This went against all logic but in that rare moment Veritas didn’t care, you were alive but he still couldn’t let go of the fact that you didn’t tell anyone you were still alive. ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone that you were alive, send a signal, anything.’

You shrugged as you made yourself comfortable in his strong arms. ‘All communications were badly damaged or completely cut off.’ You told him. ‘I was on my own for a long while before finding my way back to you.’

‘Me?’ Veritas asked, pulling away from you. ‘Why not a medial facility for a proper treatment of your wounds? Have you hit your head so hard that common sense had been left on the back burner when making that decision?’

‘I wanted to see you first you dickhead!’ You exclaimed, shutting Veritas up rather quickly with your confession but you didn’t care. ‘is it so wrong of me to let the man I love know that I’m okay? So go ahead and call me an idiot all you like but that won’t change the fact that I felt more fear about not telling you how I truly feel then dying on some stupid mission.’ You finished your rant.

‘You’re insufferable.’ Veritas said after a moment of silence and you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed at this that you didn’t notice that Veritas has began to close in the distance between the two of you.

You scoffed. ‘Oh sure call me insufferable as if you-‘ Veritas cuts you off by cupping your cheeks and planting a sweet short lived kiss against your lips before pulling away with a smirk.

‘Glad to know that the feelings are reciprocated.’ He says, taking enjoyment of rendering you speechless as he gently guided you to medical, and remaining by your side for the remainder of the day.

[shaisuki]

Hi may I request yuji/sukuna taking “turns” with their chubby darling, just them non stop love making showing how much they absolutely adore her & filling her to the brim 🩷

sukuna was willing to put his pride back. tagging along with his host for the sake of having the taste of your fat pussy in his mouth and it was such a little low for him that he's using his host's cock just to fill her sweet pussy. such a shame you weren't being fucked by his two cocks in his original form. you would absolutely take it. your pussy was made for his cock.

but now — he's using it. having to coaxed that brat of a host of his to consider the offer that he had given to him. the three rules and one of them was to let him ravage you using itadori's body.

the brat wasn't the easiest and took him more of a little convincing. he wants to bark a laugh. there's no convincing in his past. sukuna doesn't do persuasion.

“you take this cock so well. you would do better on my cocks.” sukuna muses. pinning the back of your wrist while he fucks you from behind. the swell of your ass hitting his pelvis or rather itadori's.

your face buried in the pillows while you cry out his name in pleasure. the stretch of itadori's fat cock inside you fills you up so deliciously and being pounded by sukuna was the cherry on top.

sukuna chuckles behind as he leaned in. his hot breath tickling the skin in your back where layers of skin are like dough being repeatedly kneaded by the thrust of his hips. the constant slap of skin to skin filling the room.

“you could have been my favorite concubine if you existed in my time.” he muses. changing the he rhythm of his thrust, turning into one brutal slam of his hips. “i'll have you filled with my cum every night. stuffed with my cocks full that you'll feel me for days inside you.” letting out a groan when he feels you squeezing around him. “you like that? it's a privilege being filled with my seed and you're the perfect one.” smirking at your skin when he hears you gasp.

sukuna takes a lick. his tongue (itadori's) drags at the soft expanse of your skin — covered with a thin sheen of sweat from the coupling before sinking his teeth into the skin. the sensation making you tighten around him and with a sudden harsh slam of his hips. he buried his dick to the hilt. the tip of his cock nudging at the entrance of your womb before spurting thick ropes of his cum. painting your walls white and filling you to the brim.

you cried out as it triggered your orgasm and the stinging of the skin breaking from his teeth. droplets of blood surfacing and sukuna licked the crimson liquid. groaning at the taste of your blood. it had been so long since he got a taste of the human flesh. your blood will work for now.

sukuna grins at the sight of your plush body riddled with his bite marks. some of your blood seeped through the cracks of your skin where he had bitten. proud of what he had done and if you're pussy weren't any good, he already had devoured you.

annoyance settled before him as he feels the owner of the body he currently lives switched with him. he can cooperate for now. he will be back later though.

itadori got a hold back of his body. he bites back a moan. his cock that was previously used by sukuna is still nestled inside you. the remnants of his cum trickled at the sheets beneath him. mixed with your own arousal.

he slowly pulls his cock out. gently turning you around. laying in his bed with your face fucked out having achieved multiple orgasms from being fucked earlier, both itadori and the curse living inside him, sukuna had repeatedly filled you to the brim.

“yuuji....” you weakly moaned out and itadori leans down. burying his face in the crook of your neck. his cock still hard pressing in the skin of your thigh littered with bites. “you can still take more...” lifting you up easily like you weigh nothing in his lap. “of course, she still can.” come sukuna interrupts. his mouth forming in yuuji's cheek. itadori ignores it.

you weakly gripped yuuji's shoulder as he lifts you up before slowly sinking your awaiting heat to his cock. “yuuji!” you throw your head back. the sensitivity of your abused cunt adding tremors of pleasure-pain down in your core.

“i got you, okay...” the pink-haired sorcerer coos at you. settling in for a easy rhythm as he thrusts upwards. groaning as your fat pussy wraps around his cock. hugging him like a glove.

“f-feels so good!” you cried out. tangling your fingers in his head while you lean down to kiss him and yuuji accepted it with open mouth. his lips sucking your tongue as he builds up the pace of fucking you.

he grabs a boob in his hand squeezing it while the other holds your ass and sukuna's mouth appeared on his palm where his hand is. biting your nipple before sucking them. you clenched harder around him. moaning in the kiss as you moved your hips downward meeting his thrust.

itadori couldn't stop. you just feels so good. he can't bring himself to stop despite having released his load to you before sukuna took over. you were made for him and for you to take his cock repeatedly is enough for him to bust his load again. over and over to your awaiting cunt. the squelch of his cum that he previously filled you with mingled with your arousal adds to his heightened senses and it didn't take long for him to fill you up again.

his hips stuttering before completely grinding your hips on his to fill you with his load. you had already cummed and the sensation of being filled again send you the edge again. you softly pant. regaining your breath while you slowly roll your hips to prolong your orgasm and his.

you press a chaste kiss to itadori's face and you bite back a moan. sukuna's tattoos are already appearing and it was far from done. it looks like these two had already came to understand for one thing, is that to fill you up with their cum.

you weren't complaining to and sukuna's smirk and tattoos disappearing to show yuuji was the last thing you see before you drifted to sleep. filled to the brim with their cum.

[screampied]

getting edged by jjk men. thats it thats the request.

❛ BUT THAT D!CK WAS A 10/10! ❜ ⠀

༊࿐۫ ᩿ㅤㅤㅤ feat. nanami, gojo, toji, geto, choso

warnings. fem! reader, overstim/edging, praise kink, heavy dirty talk, implied multiple rounds, őrgasm denial, squirt kink, unprotected sex, size difference, cunnilingus, cockdrunk, mdni.

an. well yes.

⟢ SUGURU GETO.

“…sugu,” you’d whine, shifting your hips back and forth against his face. he’d be laid underneath you, two rough hands of his gripped onto the very back parts of your ass. his tongue gingerly swipes against your folds, a long trail of your slick covering his entire chin. he looked so pretty, eyes half lidded with a smug grin pulling against his lips. he noticed based from your hips—you could just about feel the tenseness of your legs just about giving out. “really gonna c-cum again, suguru.”

“but princess,” he whispers against your cunt, you shudder from the warmth of his breath wafting against your entrance. he had a few strands of hair that ran down the sides of his face, sliding a finger between your folds before planting a went kiss near your pulsating nub. “i know, i know. but ‘m still hungry. wait a liiiiittle longer, just a little.”

your legs quavered, the brief sting of overstim makes you moan — a soft whine gets snatched from your throat at the prick of geto’s nose rubbing all over your pussy. the very tip of his nose was sheeny, forever glossed with your sweetened slick. his tongue was entirely skilled, lapping over your cunt. he even gathers a wad of spit just to give your pussy an excuse to make it more shiny for him. “can never—get enough of how sweet you taste for me, fuckk.”

you’d be practically riding his face, rutting your hips against him and he’s got such a sleazy grin. geto’s got your panties lazily moved to the side, his tongue constantly breaks away, intentionally giving the crevices of your thighs soft sucks.

his lips brushed against your skin, making you quicken your hips against his mouth.

“s-suguruuuu,” you mewled, and moments later whilst his tongue drags back and forth against your clit—focusing directly on you slick folds, he starts reciting the alphabet with his tongue. “fuck, f-fuckkk. ‘m gonna cum.”

“look at me,” he purrs, bringing a thumb towards the inner part of your clit. he slowly slides his tongue up, meanwhile you watch the entire time. your breath gets caught in your throat, hands grabbing onto his hair before he flashes a smile.

“thaaaat’s it, eyes down here,” and his voice went low, such softness to it — but a faint rasp could be heard from behind it. he made you throb, solely from his words, the warmness of his breath that wafted right against your sensitive entrance had your knees buckling.

trapped in your own lewd thoughts, you felt your entire body heat up, the feeling of coming to a halt, being edged. your lip trembled, various sweetened whines escaping before you moan at his next words.

“you wanna cum, don’t you—?”

“y-yes,” you huffed, your chest heaved and it feels so good, you’re right there. geto slides his tongue between your slit, and he gives it a long suck to make you hold make a moan. he was so sloppy, his entire chin was smothered with your sheeny slick. yet he never minded, he’d happily kiss you afterwards to clean it off. “please, please.”

“please…what, princess,” he raises a brow, and you whimper once his tongue softly glides against your clitoral hood. he was so tender — he knew the exact spots to lick, to suck. “i taught you how to speak to me. so use those words. don’t be shy.”

your glossed lips form into a cute saddened pout. geto circles his tongue alongside your folds before you give in and whine in a needy, “suguru, please. pretty please—pretty please… can i cum now. i deserve to c-cum.”

“oh…you deserve?” he teases.

“i—i think i deserve it,” you correct yourself, entirely nothing but a whiney mess. “just wanna cum, suguru…please.”

“good girl,” he hushes, and you shudder once he starts to rub and caress circles on your swollen clit. you felt thousands of nerves pulse all throughout your body, you moaned once he tells you the go ahead.

after what seemed like forever… you finally came. your legs shook vigorously as you rode against his face. your moans grew high, and you’re speechless — a tiny squeak leaves your mouth as he’s still got a firm grip on your hips. “now that wasn’t so bad, mhm…? pft. my drama queen.”

⟢ NANAMI KENTO.

mid-thrust, nanami’s panting, bulky toned strong arms held near the sides of you. you’re stuffed full of his cock and your legs just dangle with him having you in a sweet mating press. “k-kento,” you’d moan, feeling his hips sharply smack against you each time.

you felt forevermore warm.

the more you stared at nanami, the more you felt yourself throb. he was glistening with sweat, blond hair of his was slightly ruffled because of his repetitive moments. needless to say—it was effortlessly attractive.

his rhythm, his pace…

it was so perfect. a sweet mixture of rough and tenderness. his cock, it was so hefty. the was his girth stretched and stretched—it left your maw hanging open to where he had to kiss your candied whines always.

“i know. my baby’s getting close, huh?” he whispers between kisses, and his soft lips press all over your face. a plethora of kisses.

nanami’s so gentle with you, peppering your chin, your nose, your lips…

he even playfully runs his tongue against the corner part of your mouth, soft pants of his own collide against your skin before he lets off a grunt. “god, i’m close too,” and he swallow thickly — he notices you’re starting to cover your hands from embarrassment so he grabs them with a joshing grin. “oh, my love don’t do that. i wanna see those eyes, good girl just look at me. look at your husband makin’ you feel good.”

your head was rested against a soft padded pillow, as he’s drilling into you—you grab onto his hand, and he ‘awwws’ before intertwining his fingers. “kento…c-cum.”

he found it cute how you could barely properly make out any words—you were being filled with thick inches of his cock. nanami’s pace couldn’t be more perfect. his angle he had on you, a free hand of his presses down lightly on your tummy. you moaned, feeling the cold band of his wedding ring skim against your belly, tracing all over your soft skin.

“patience… wait for me, sweetheart,” he’d hoarse, and oh how hes just mindlessly buried to the hilt.

you’re dizzy. you can feel him reach so deep, he’s feeling you clench around him and it makes his jaw tighten. “hey,” he murmurs, gingerly swiping his thumbs on your cheeks. the moment he brings his hands up towards your face. nanami cups yours face before leaning in to give your nose a kiss. “wait a little, can you do that?”

“okay,” you pant, feeling such heat ignite in you. just as you were about to come undone, you stop yourself—a soft pout forming against your lips, gnawing on your lip. “sensitive, kento. f-fuckkk.”

“such a colorful mouth for a pretty girl,” he tsks, and he’s starting to slowly grind his hips. your nails claw into his back. his back muscles sexily tense up, and your head goes way back. “should teach you some more manners, sweetheart.”

“s-sorry.” you whined, watching the corners of his lips tug into a simper.

nanami hums, “don’t be sorry,” and then as he speaks — his voice grows a rich pitched low. it makes you pulse, the bass in it never failed to make your entire body heat up. “truth be told, hearing you with such a filthy little mouth turns me on,” and he watches as your eyes briefly light up. your back starts to arch, you’re writhing in pleasure before he places a hand on your hip. “go ahead ‘n cum, princess. i don’t wanna be mean ‘n make you wait too long,” and then a soft chuckle departs from his lips, bringing your hand towards his mouth to kiss it tenderly. “would never want my gorgeous wife to get mad at me.”

once you came, shockwaves coursed all throughout your body. in response, you shuddered beneath nanami — and shortly afterwards, he came too. although, he pulls out just in time to pain a thin rope of his cum all over your tummy. he notices the saddened frown on your face, and he chuckles before sneaking a kiss on your lips. “don’t be so disappointed. i can always,” he huffs, out of breath, “…can always give you a baby later, my love. how’s that sound?”

⟢ GOJO SATORU

he loves edging you.

it’s his favorite thing in the world. gojo’s always been fond of a little humility with you—you’d be propped up against his back, basically cockwarming him. before, you were riding him in reverse but he grabs onto your hips and tells you to wait.

you start to babble and whine, because you were just about to come to a sweet powerful release.

“give me a sec, angel,” is all he says, and you’re taken by surprise once he brings a hand to reach down between your legs. he pries them open, and as you lie your head back against his chest—you start to feel his fingers ghost against your pussy. a gasp gets elicited from your throat, and a playful chuckle leaves from gojo.

“ooh. you’re so wet down here,” and he’s still buried deep deep inside you. he gracefully maneuvers circles with the tips of his fingers against your entrance, and you hear the squelches of excitement your cunt made. “fuck. so nasty. just listen to how she speaks to us, baby.”

as your body was pressed right up against his bare chest. you softly let off a whine, feeling the hardness of his flexed pecs and abs rub against your skin.

his warmth…

you could smell gojo despite facing the opposite way, just leaning back against him. he was always so good with his fingers, the thrill of your sudden orgasm coming to an abrupt stop. you whined, feeling your thighs continuously clench together.

“sato—ruuu,” you spoke in broken dialogue, and by this point you’re just trying to create some sort of movement. he leans in, kissing against your neck at your cute attempt to start up your hips again. yet — he’s still got a hand holding your left hip down, he’s whispering in your ear, another hand occupied between your legs. “i- i wanna cum, ‘m so close.”

“don’t care what you want,” he sings in a melodic tune, his teeth softly press into the inner part of your neck and you moan. it’s not too hard, but it’s just enough to earn a whine out of you. you felt your head spinning, the stimulation was almost too much to bare. you already felt a viscous mess start to slick between your legs. “besides, when you whine my name like that it’s so cute. say it again for me.”

whilst he was deeply buried inside your pussy, your eyes became half-lidded…having a useless chase with your breath, panting and panting.

his fingers felt so good, all he had to do was ghost the tips of them against your folds and you’re feeling yourself start to twitch profusely now.

“satoru, ‘toruuu,” you gasped, a sudden pulse and not even a moment later—you gush. “oh my god,” you breathed, immediately knowing you were soaked. it was an intense feeling, your teeth shattered and your breathing become more and more erratic.

“woaaah. did you just…squirt on me?” gojo snickers, after a long expanded pause. he takes absolutely nothing serious.

you could hear the smirk, envisioning it stretch across his face before he bounces his thigh purposely. his dick still inside—it’s just going in and out, you moan once you start to gradually move a bit before you nod against his chest. “well fuck, that…was kinda hot. just couldn’t hold it, couldn’t you?”

you let off a sweet moan as response and gojo hums, trailing a free hand down your waist. he pulls you closer towards him, and your legs were just dumbly sprawled open still.

you had no words, shock overtook you before you grab onto his wrist. he raises his brows before you drag his hand towards your slick entrance, whining out a pathetic. “can…can you do that one more time, ‘toru?”

“sure,” he replied cheekily, thinking you’d never ask. although—you don’t expect gojo to lightly remove you from his lap, only to make you lie flat on your back. you’re panting, staring at him with a look of straight puzzlement before he cheeses. “whaaaat? don’t gimme that look. i told you, whenever my girl makes a mess, i gotta clean it,” and with a quickness, he spreads your legs again. “so, just let me do that with my tongue, baby.”

⟢ CHOSO KAMO

poor choso. once he edges you, he ends up edging himself by accident.

twice the pleasure though—you’re the one to ask him to edge you. he’s got the cutest dumbfounded expression, tilting his head before murmuring with a shy stutter of, “…edging? you want me to—what’s edging?”

albeit, the second he experiences it, he doesn’t want to stop. hours had probably passed, and he’s panting, sweaty and all. choso’s staring deeply into your eyes as you’re riding him. he can’t stop the slutty whines that leave his mouth, strands of his own hair irritated him from the way it brushed against his forehead.

“f-fuckk, your hips..” he’d hiccup, and he bites down on his lip — choso whines, feeling the ridges of his cock hit and meet every edge. your gummy walls were clinging onto him with such force that it’s sloppy. it makes his head spin, and he just couldn’t shut up.

not that you ever cared, choso’s voice was always adorable—despite it being a soft hoarse, husky and a tad bit deep. you leave him with kisses all across his face the moment he warns you that he’s about to reach yet another teeth-shattering orgasm.

“hold my hand, choso.” you’d whisper, stroking his cheek with a thumb. youre trying to distract him from his ecstasy-filled nerves, dark eyes flicker towards you and not for one second does he hesitate.

a big hand grabs onto yours, and he squeezes it. choso swallows, feeling your hips grind and grind back against him.

he doesn’t finish his words before you clench around him, choso’s breathing picks up time and time again before his head throws itself back. you start to moan with him too, completely in sync. giving his hand a squeeze before right when the two of you were about to give in to the shockwaves of pleasure…

faster and faster.

he’s so close to you that he uses another hand to pull you into a hug—you giggle once choso starts moaning right into your ear. “baby, i-i wanna cum with you, but you asked if i could…”

you both come to a sudden respite.

choso’s eyes were half open, and he’s just breathing. “s-shit,” is the first thing that slips out of his mouth as he looks at you. dilated pupils of his that forever got lost in yours.

you smile, heaving yourself before pressing a wet kiss against his lips. it was rare to hear choso curse. hearing the words roll off his tongue, you just wanted to kiss him all over. “think ‘m startin' to see why you—you wanted to be edged so much,” and his voice was pitched a lot lower, you’re still softly moving against him and he lets off a low sigh. “feels so good. different..”

“are you tired already, baby?” you huff out, planting a kiss near the very edge of his mouth.

he grows flustered at your touch, he blinks twice before cutely shaking his head, only for his voice to crack. “w-what? no, ‘m not tired. i was just,” and he pauses, avoiding eye contact and you lean in for a sweet kiss. that always shut him up. choso’s tongue collides against yours, and once he feels your hips start to rock back and forth against his. a moan goes out of him, and you let off a noise yourself once he gives your ass a soft spank. he squeezes it shortly afterward, and it’s not even seconds later before he cums inside.

once he pulls away, strands and strands of spit departing—choso shudders, licking his lips before breathing out a, “…i made such a mess inside,” and you’re taken aback once he grabs your wrist, making your fingers wrap around his neck—a cute plead with his eyes that he wants you to choke him a little. “i want more, please baby. ride me all night, please. jus’ wanna be good for you.”

⟢ FUSHIGURO TOJI

“the nerve you have, girl,” toji grunts. you’re an entire mess, laid all on the bed and he’s got a toy of yours that’s making your legs feel like complete mush. “sending pictures to me while ‘m at work. spamming my phone like that, ‘n to do it in my clothes too?”

“i said s-sorry,” you’d moan, and you tried suppressing your moans but it was little to no use. the wand rubbed against your clit, and it felt so good—you were approaching yet another orgasm that you could practically taste it on the very tip of your tongue. “toji. tojiiii.”

he’s got the toy turned up a few notches, a high level and you’re just idly hitting the back of your head against the pillow. dark irises of toji’s remain on yours to where it makes you not only nervous, but ten times horny.

he scoffs, a free hand reaching towards your right breast to lightly pinch against your nipples. “hard just for me, baby?”

“…i want you not the toy,” you whined, fully ignoring his words. he rolls his eyes, ghosting the rubber head of the toy even more over your soaked pussy. you were so wet, it felt good but you wanted the real thing. toji’s dick, inside of you, stretching you at your very mercy. “i’ll be good, promise.”

“little girl,” he grouses with the most sassiest tone imaginable. his voice was a sexy low, it made you throb.

your orgasm was just screaming for its release that you couldn’t help but start to shift and grind your hips against the toy, oh how pathetically…. “so ungrateful, ‘n i was just about to let you cum.”

“t-toji,” you pouted, raising your neck up just a bit to meet eye contact with him. he snickers, a rough hand of his prying your legs open just a bit more, another still occupied with your tits, his thumb grazes against your perky nipple and you moaned. “it’s boring, i want you toji.”

toji jeers, sliding the toy up and down your folds before staring directly at you. “…boring?” he matches your whiney tone.

“but y’er already so soaked for this stupid fuckin’ toy. ‘sides, don’t even think you deserve to be fucked. that shit’s only for girls who listen.”

“fuck y-you, i— i am listening,” you huff out, your eyebrows curling together and he chuckles at your sudden attitude.

“oh reaaaally? with a tone like that, might as well finish yourself off.”

toji sneers, and you let off a cute frown. he leans up close to you.

you think he’s gonna kiss you but right before he presses his lips against yours, he leaves you looking down with your own lips twitching. “hm,” he utters, moving back before you hear the toy flicker off.

you’re still just sat there, moaning because you wanted to cum—yet toji’s already getting up, and you whimper out a, “t-toji. you said i could cum..”

“y’er a big girl. do it yourself,” he mumbles, burying his hands into his pockets. “have fun with those weak fingers of yours, heh.”

[simonsrileyhusband]

requested on dm, nsfw:

you fidget with the case of your phone as you wait for simon to arrive, you politely nod and smile to your coworker who wouldnt leave you alone, his mouth never shutting and his unwanted flirting still going, even when you have told him multiple times that you have a boyfriend. (one that could break every bone of his body if he wanted to)

"so, where is that boyfriend of yours?"

"on his way..."

"maybe he left you sweetheart, i could take you home if you like~"

you take a step to the side, trying to be as far from him as you could. a smile forming into your face when you hear the loud engine of simons bike parking infront of you.

"sorry lovie, traffic got bad."

you dont say anything, just rush into his arms that wrap around you immediately, he is scanning the situation, his eyes landing on that guy you keep bickering about, his blood boils and he sees him stare at you, if he could he would punch him in the face until he can't smile amymore... but he likes visiting you at work, so he has to think of something else.

"lets go home~"

simon helps you put on your helmet and makes sure your arms are wrapped properly around his torso.

the ride home is nice and quiet, and once you arrive he holds your hand all the way to the apartment. once he closes the door he will take off your jacket, put down your backpack, make you lay on the bed, take off your shoes. his body on top of yours, leaving sweet kisses on your face as his hands rub your waist.

"why so lovey-dovey simon?"

"wanna make you feel good... let me, please"

you nod and kiss his cheek, his bulky hands unbuttoning your shirt, taking it off gently.

"you are mine, you know that, right?"

"yes simon, is everything all right?"

he growls into your neck, kissin and bitting on it.

"mine, mine, mine..." he will whisper as he leaves red marks all over your neck and chest, his hands cupping and gripping all over your body.

"ill make sure he doesnt bother my baby anymore" down went your pants and underweare, simon made sure to make you feel good... really good, he didn't stopped until you were a mess under him.

the next day, when he dropped you off at work, he took off his helmet, grabbed you by the waist and kissed you infront of your (shitty) coworker, your pretty cheeks red, and a little hickey picking over your button up, a proud smirk grows on simons face when you wave at him as you enter the building.

his loving stare and smile drop to a killer gaze, staring at that excuse of a man until he runs into the building.

[ablobwhowrites]

So I was reading your poppy playtime new home sweet home post and I saw the one that told of the robber(s) breaking into y/n house and getting killed and I was maybe wondering if you could make that into a full story with all the toys ganging up on the robbers and they do this all as y/n sleeps peacefully in the next room over

Please and thank you

(I got you. Hopefully I cooked with this fic also for this fic, this happened before the doctor came to live at the house. Also cause in game that catnap can transform his appearance then he can totally turn into his small for and I like to think all the smiling critters can do that but mostly are in their big form like how dogday is when we met him but yeah.)

The night was quiet, everyone slept peacefully in the house as the moon stood high in the sky with the stars. Y/n curled up in their bed as yarnaby somehow was able to fit on the bed with y/n as the smiling critters slept in the living room multiple blankets and pillows on the ground to make it more comfortable with sleeping bags as they all pilled with each other in craftycorn's and hoppy hopscotch's pillow fort. The other toys sleeping in bedrooms that y/n helped them settle into for a actual good night rest but one was up and about, quietly walking around the house in their smaller plush form to be more quiet, that was catnap, slowly creeping through the second floor making one last night patrol before joining the other smiling critters in the pillowfort for the night.

His ear suddenly shifts hearing noise down stairs, he silently descended down the stairs to the main floor. The sound of something picking, small clicking and quiet jiggling of something metal until he found the source of the sound. The front door opened quietly as the quiet creaking of the door, catnap went to hide and see who will was coming in. Two people in black clothes and masks can in as they looked around "alright let's just take as much as we can. Next time don't drop a fucking vase, that's what almost got us caught." One of the masked men said to the second one slightly annoyed.

Catnap thinks of ways to kill to dispose of these people, he quickly race up stairs as the two men where in the kitchen trying to find any valuables. He stopped suddenly as a door upstairs opened as mommy long legs woke up groggy from the noise from down stairs woke her up. Being in the silence factory has made her a very light sleeper especially when it's this quiet in the house. "Catnap?...what are you doing up so late?" She yawned as then hearing the a slight aloud clank of something metal coming from down stairs, mommy long legs goes quiet as she quietly walked to the stairs and stretched her neck to be able to see what could be making that noise.

One of the robbers quietly cussed under their breath as they look around to make sure no one heard the sound, not noticing mommy long legs head in the shadows watching them with their every move. She retracted her head back and sighed "the one night i try to get some sleep. Catnap may you please go fetch huggy wuggy and yarnaby for me? I'll make sure they stay where they are in the mean time" she said slightly annoyed and tired but trying to keep a sweet demeanor as catnap went to get the two toys. The robber looking in basement for anything valuable and a good escape route but hearing the door of the basement close as they sighed annoyed "Clyde! Come on man, I told you I'll be checking here, why aren't you checking the living room?" The masked person said thinking it's their partner until the light turns on. "Dude! Turn off that light! Do you wanna wake up the house?" They whisper shouted to their partner.

Creaking of the stairs descending down to the basement floor had the robber a bit worried. "Clyde? Why are you just being quiet? What are you mad at what I said?" But no response, until the light from the one light bulb in goes out and a growl rumbled against the walls, The masked person tried to grab their flashlight to see what was down here with them. "Come on work you stupid flashlight" they said panicked, shaking and lightly hitting the flashlight until it finally flickered on into the face of yarnaby. Slowly opening his mouth as the light shined into the yarnaby's mouth, then he lunged and snapped on the robbers arm and thrashing the person violently as the screams of pain echoed through the walls. Ripping the person's arm off and eating it up as pinning the robber down to the ground as only one will being walking out of this basement alive.

The other robber, Clyde walked into the kitchen as he tried to look for his friend. "Francis? Come out, we gotta go. We got plenty of stuff, this place is giving me the creeps for some reason" Clyde whispered slightly loudly as no response and he sighed. "Great he's probably on the attic or something" Clyde said as he looked at his watch that said 12:50 PM until it shuts off as he forgot to charge it and he sighed annoyed even more now. The sound of something walking closer to Clyde from behind as he quietly groaned "Are we finally done? What took you so lo-..." He froze as seeing huggy wuggy blue fur from the shadows coming uncomfortably close to Clyde "Francis is this some stupid prank then I'm not falling for it, I know your behind this huggy wuggy plushy" Clyde slightly pushed huggy to the side and saw no one behind huggy. "Wait...then how are you moving?" Clyde said in fear as he tried to run but huggy grabbed him as Clyde was about to scream as then huggy opened his mouth, rows and rows of teeth latched onto Clyde head as huggy then bit off the man's head the muffled screams stopped as huggy let go of the man's body and let it drop to the ground with a muffled thud from the carpeted floor.

Mommy long legs checked in y/n's room to see if they where asleep and luckily they slept through the ordeal. It's just the clean up to deal with now. The basement was a mess, the robber who was named Francis was torn apart by yarnaby, and it was easy to clean up because of the concrete and not having to scrub a rug until the red finally comes out and before having to deal with the body's of the robbers and mommy had the other toys help with the clean up as well. Yarnaby ended up getting to them first and much to mommy long legs dismay it does deal with at least deposing the evidence. But yarnaby was then forced to get a bath to clean off the blood, which was a struggle and had dog day wash yarnabys face and mommy long legs to wash yarnabys fur (can the yarn on him be counting as fur?) but y/n woke up early and their alarm rang as it was 8:00 AM. The toys panic and Doey, Bobby bear hug and bunzo tried to stall y/n as long as possible but huggy still had blood on him luckily only from his mouth but still was messy but y/n was able to get down stairs still.

Y/n stopped in their tracks as they looked at huggy "oh huggy what happened?!" That made the rest of the toys hearts drop and they all rushed over to maybe explain but stopped as huggy had bit open into a jug of cranberry juice and held it to him and disguised the blood. "Don't worry I'll clean it up later, let me run you a bath. Hopefully it doesn't stain." Y/n said as they yawned still a bit groggy from waking up. Mommy long legs sighed in relief, "We take this to the grave." mommy said as the other toys agreed.

(hopefully this was a good fic, I'm trying to get back into fics and hopefully I cooked with this one! And if you want more please don't feel shy and request any ideas or anything. But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[always-azriels-princess]

The Wrong Thing part two

Guysss i did it :) im so proud

Summary: the mate bond snaps, and you say the wrong thing

Part 1

Word Count: 1.4K

Azriel was avoiding you. You knew it, he knew it, the entire Inner Circle knew it. Feyre had tried to approach you a couple times to figure out what had happened, but you never answered the knocks on your door.

It was embarassing, and yet you completely understood why your mate didn't want you. The haunted look in his eyes that night appeared in your nightmares each night, and each one ended with you waking up, slicked with sweat and panting as if just finishing a marathon.

Bags had started to form under your eyes from the lack of sleep, and Azriel wasn't looking much better. You had overheard Rhys talking to Feyre on multiple occasions about how Azriel was getting unfocused during missions, sloppy during training, and quick to anger in simple conversations.

You knew you had to fix your mistake, but it was hard to think of how your mate would look at you, like he never wanted to see you again. And you didn't even blame him, you wouldn't want to see yourself either after what you had done.

"No."

The words hung around your neck, suffocating you every second of every day like a noose growing tighter and tighter. Rhys had also noticed your work as a diplomat for the Night Court was diminishing in its thoroughness.

Nuala knocked on your door, as you were deep in some paperwork updating the new peace treaty with Winter. "Come in," you called.

"Good afternoon miss," Nuala said as she walked in. "The High Lord would like to see you in his office."

You sighed, expecting something like this after on your and Azriel's actions in the past week. "Thank you Nuala, I'll be right there."

The chair scraped back after you stood up, shuffling the papers and stuffing them in a drawer.

Dread coiled in your gut as you made your way to the High Lord's office, worried he would make you confront what you had been trying so hard to hide from.

You knocked thrice quietly, hoping Rhys had maybe left to go get a snack and you could sneak back into your room. To no avail, you heard a faint "come in," and you took a deep breath before pushing the door open.

The breath you had previously took escaped you as you gazed over every inch of the shadowsinger, completely ignoring the High Lord sitting at his desk, smirking with his "I'm so amazing" face.

As you drank in the image of your mate, his shadows clung to him, wrapping around his body like a second skin, while others writhed around his feet, swarming and twisting in chaotic patterns. The tension in the room increased ten-fold and the air around Azriel began to darken, his very presence sucking in the light around him. His adam's apple bobbed as he traced your every curve, as if committing the image to memory.

You just stood in the doorway, both you and your mate frozen, staring at each other, before Rhys cleared his throat and you snapped out of your trance, breaking your eye contact with your mate. As you sat down on the opposite side of the couch Azriel was on,

"Now, you probably know why I called you in," Rhys explained. "This," he gestured wildly, waving his hands between you two, "needs to stop. Azriel, you've almost completely dropped your training schedule, and I have reports from your informants that you're missing their check-ins." He turned to you, "And you are three days behind on the paperwork for the Winter Court peace treaty renewal."

Rhys sighed and stood up, walking towards the door. Before exiting the room, he turned back and said, "I don't know what's going on with you two, and I'm not going to snoop through your heads to figure it out, but something clearly happened, so you can leave this room when you are back to normal." With a wave of his hand, the door closed behind him as he walked away, and you could hear the soft click of the lock turning, keeping you stuck in a room with male who wanted nothing to do with you.

The air in the room was thick, suffocating. The silence between you and Azriel seemed to stretch endlessly, like the tension before a storm. He sat on the couch across from you, his posture rigid, every muscle in his body taut, like he was ready to shadow away at any second.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him at first. The guilt gnawed at your insides, raw and jagged, but you forced yourself to breathe, slow and steady, to calm the racing in your chest. The room was too quiet, and yet every sound felt amplified. The way his shadows whispered, curling and slithering at his feet, the way his eyes seemed to burn into you from across the room.

He was avoiding you, but you were avoiding him too.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat, suffocating you before they even had a chance to leave your lips.

Azriel spoke first, his voice low and strained. "You don’t have to do this." It was almost a whisper, his words laced with pain and, not anger...no, something more vunerable. Insecurity.

"Do what?" you finally managed, your voice sounding foreign to your own ears. "Talk about it?"

His voice was low and strained. "You have already made your feelings very clear, and I would never try to force you into anything you don't want."

You sat up, confused. "Az, I never said I didn't want the bond. I was overjoyed when it snapped, but I....I panicked because I know that you deserve someone better than me."

His beautiful hazel eyes softened. "But...you said no. The bond snapped and you said no." His voice was getting louder and faster as he spoke. "You were right, you shouldn't want this bond, I'm broken and scarred, and you're so....so perfect."

An ache spread through your chest, as though all the fragile pieces of your heart had shattered at once, leaving sharp fragments to tear at your insides.

"Azriel," your voice cracked as tears filled your eyes. You shifted closer on the couch, until your legs were brushing against his. "I told you this that night, and I will tell you again. You. Are. Not. Weak. You are not broken, you are not scarred, you do not have a single flaw unless it is loving your family too much. I can never take back what I said that night, and I will replay that moment in my head for the rest of my life, praying to be able to go back in the past and change it. You have a such a pure heart, so do not think for one moment that you are not deserving of me. I am the one who doesn't deserve you." You finished your speech, a soft, uneven breath escaping you.

Azriel stared into your soul, his eyes softening with wonder and adoration. He smiled softly as he drew closer. When you felt his warm breath on your face, he murmured, "Why don't we just agree that we both deserve each other," and closed the distance between you. His lips met yours, and it was like the world fell away and the only thing that mattered was the male in front of you. His hand slid from your face to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. It was slow, unhurried, like you both had all the time in the world. You smiled against his lips, fingers threading through the dark strands of his hair as you leaned into him, deepening the kiss.

The taste of him, the feel of him, was overwhelming in the best way. It was like coming home, like a storm finally releasing the tension it had held for so long. You regretfully pulled away, resting your forehead against his. You were finally home.

The peace of the moment was shattered as the door was thrown in, what seemed to be the entire court of Velaris pushing themselves through. Cassian laughed deeply, sweeping Az off the couch and hugging him "Finally!" he exclaimed. Mor, who was bawling her eyes out, flung herself at you, knocking yourself back against the couch. "THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL!" You paused for a second, then laughed and hugged her back.

Rhys came in with Feyre on his arm, looking all too smug. "I told you Feyre darling, I'm a genius."

Feyre smacked him upside the head.

@lilah-asteria >3 ilsym you are my first tag ever and i'm so grateful for the support so thank youuuu

[johnpriceslamb]

arthur morgan + back shots🙏

suggestive content under the cut. MDNI.

The headboard of the bed banged onto the thin, hotel wall.

A rough, calloused hand muffled your mouth as his other hand grabs a fist full of your hair— practically forcing your back to be arched.

After a long train robbery, with Micah pulling at his last straws and the amount of people he had to deal with, this was his reward. The anger within him diminished into a small ball once he heard your shy, meek request in going to a hotel from the gang to have a break. What he didn’t know, was that soft laced matching set which delicately rested on your perfect figure.

“Yeah? Yeah? Feel that, sweetheart?” The hand which held the fistful of your hair travels down to where his cock shaped into you too well- the bump forming in your stomach reappearing each time he thrusted deeper into your tight, velvety walls. He presses his fingers down, hearing your muffled gasps and cries.

You sobbed into his hand when his hips slammed into yours multiple times, which lead to his fingers coming back to hold your hair to pull you back further into his touch. The tip of his drooling member reaching places you’ve never thought existed, pre-cum spilling.

The walls were thin, but so was his restraint in fucking you till you couldn’t think.

“What a— ffuu— What a real good girl you are,” he leans a down to grunt in your ear, gently nipping it. You unconsciously tighten around him at the praise, which lead to him deliciously groaning right in your ears. That sound alone could make you cum.

The bristles of his stubble graze your skin which made you softly whine. He peers down to admire your sweaty, sticky body only to bite his lip hard once seeing your plump ass. His hand travels down to roughly grab it, watching it bounce as his dick slams into you.

“Hnnn..” He grunts lowly, a slow smirk forming on his face as he feels your walls tighten. You were so close, too close. Drool escapes your mouth as his pace became slower, yet the everlasting thrusts become so much more harder. You could feel every vein on his cock drag. Your nails claw at the bedsheets below you. Finally, his hand leaves your mouth to place on both your hips to allow him to practically re-arrange your guts.

Your sweet moans were echoing throughout the walls, he ushers you to be quiet but it was far too difficult considering how he was handling you.

“P—please..” You babble incoherently, long lashes dripping with tears from the pleasure he’s giving you. You don’t have to finish your sentence because he knew all too well of what you needed. His fingers come below to find that sensitive bundle of flesh which was in need of attention, rubbing figure 8’s on it.

Your tight walls spasm around him, hands clenching on the bedsheets tightly with your doe-y eyes rolling backing— his other hand frantically grabbing your chin to turn your head around so he could see the expression etched on your delicate face. A series of cum coats his cock like a white rimmed halo, from that alone was your spend.

“Darlin’,” He kisses your cheek, “Where do i—”

“Inside,” You softly whimper, “Please, fill me.”

Whatever his baby girl wanted, she got. A few more rough slams and his climax came quickly, dripping inside of you. It filled you to the brim. Hot, wet, and sticky.

With just a few last pumps, the movement of his hips stop. He doesn’t remove it, rather he buries himself deeper inside your sensitive little hole. Any movement from him etched out a tiny whine.

A sleepy smile formed on your face as you watch his burly figure come into your vision. He handles you so delicately afterwards, watching his soaked fingers from the prepping he did beforehand cup your face to place a small kiss on your lips.

“Needed that.” He mumbles lowly.

“You’re welcome..” You quietly whisper back.

A moment of silence occurs.

His cock hardens inside you again.

<3

[puppym3]

felix x reader ─── third times the charm

synopsis - after a tension-filled series of rounds of a game as innocent as mario kart, you find yourself in his room again. while the both of you admit it's wrong to want to keep this going, it feels too good to stop.

wc: 10.6k

silly tags: MDNI! 18+, bsf!felix, afab!reader, definitely mutual pining., angst, fluff, they're both idiots, reader is an overthinker, also incredibly horny (they both are), felix knows he's hot, confident felix, a lot of tension, banter with other members, jeongin is clueless, pt 1 -> here, pt 2 -> here

MDNI!! smut warnings under cut!!

WARNINGS: smut (obv), multiple orgasms (f + m rec), felix is an experienced pussy eater, munch felix, fingering (f rec), hair pulling, thigh fucking

The decision had been unanimous.

Game night was happening, no excuses. The guys had declared it a celebration for you finally “getting better,” though you were pretty sure they just wanted an excuse to go all out before their schedules became too hectic. They had a full week ahead, packed to the brim with rehearsals, recordings, and commitments.

And you, well, you had spent the entire day inside your own head.

No matter how hard you tried to distract yourself, your thoughts kept circling back to Felix.

It wasn’t even a question anymore, you liked him. You had figured that much out, though the realization had done nothing to help the growing ache inside you. Because liking him didn’t mean he liked you back. Not in the same way.

Sure, it wasn’t normal to make out with your friends. It wasn’t normal to touch them the way you had. It wasn’t normal to watch them come apart under your hands, gasping and trembling and so devastatingly beautiful that the memory alone had you pressing your thighs together all over again.

But Felix had said it himself.

Just once. (Two times...)

Like it was something to be forgotten. Like it was something that shouldn’t have meant anything.

And if he didn’t want it to mean anything, then… what did that make us?

The thought made your stomach twist, doubt creeping in like an unwelcome whisper. Had you crossed a line? Had you pushed too far, let your selfish desires take precedence over his comfort?

You hadn’t asked. Not really. You had just… reacted, lost in the heat of the moment, swept up in the way he had looked at you, the way he had sounded, breathless and desperate, breaking apart under your touch.

Had you misread him? Had he only gone along with it because you had pushed?

The thought made your chest tighten painfully.

But then you remembered his words.

"you won’t run away after?"

He had asked you that. If he had felt uncomfortable, he would’ve told you. Right?

And yet, knowing that didn’t stop the weight pressing down on your chest, didn’t stop the anxious knot forming in your stomach as you lay curled up in bed, staring at the ceiling.

You wanted to see him.

Not just because you were still pent up, still aching from earlier, but because the idea of avoiding him, of really avoiding him, made you feel like you were drowning.

You couldn’t run, And you didn’t want to.

But at the same time, the idea of going up to him, of acting normal, felt impossible. You had no idea what to say, how to look at him without giving yourself away. What if you made things even weirder? What if-

A sudden knock on your door snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts.

"Yah, you better not be bailing on game night," Jisung’s voice rang out, muffled through the wood. "We already decided. If you’re in there with another mystery illness, I will drag you out myself."

You groaned, rubbing your hands over your face. Of course he wasn’t going to let you off the hook that easily.

Another voice chimed in, Changbin this time. "Are you scared I'm going to kick your butt?"

"Nobody is scared of that," Jeongin added, amusement lacing his voice. "Nobody."

There was a murmur of agreement from the others, and you could practically hear Changbin's expression behind the door.

You sighed, forcing yourself to sit up.

You couldn't stay in here all night. No matter what you felt, no matter what had happened between you and Felix, the guys deserved better than that. And it's not like you were going to be alone with Felix anyways. There would be no way to even have that talk until much, much later.

Besides, it had been a while since you'd seen the other members, let alone interacted with them in a relaxed way like this.

So you steeled yourself, pushing your anxieties and worries aside for the moment, and made your way to the door, opening it with a smile that felt almost natural.

"I'm here," you announced, giving a little mock bow.

Jisung crossed his arms, looking you up and down with mock suspicion. "Took you long enough. We almost resorted to breaking your door down."

Minho scoffed. "I was just gonna let them rot in there."

You rolled your eyes, lips twitching despite yourself. "You should've let me, what game are we playing?"

"We’ve got a lineup," Hyunjin said, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he steered you toward the living room. "Some Mario Kart, some Uno, maybe something else. It’s gonna be a bloodbath."

You let them guide you into the space where everyone was already sprawled out on the couches and floor, setting up the Switch and shuffling through stacks of games.

And then your gaze landed on him.

Felix was sitting cross-legged on the floor, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a controller already in hand. He looked up at the exact moment you did, his eyes meeting yours.

Your breath caught, heat creeping up your neck, and suddenly it was like your body remembered everything from earlier. The way he had shuddered under you, the way he had looked at you, pupils blown wide, lips parted, voice wrecked-

You tore your gaze away, forcing yourself to focus on anything else. The couch. The snacks. The ridiculous arguments already breaking out between Seungmin and I.N over who was sitting where.

Act normal.

"Hey," Felix’s voice was softer than the others, quiet enough that it was meant just for you.

You swallowed, forcing a small smile as you moved to sit down near him, keeping a careful amount of space between you. "Hey."

A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes before he turned back to the game screen, adjusting his grip on the controller.

You clenched your hands together in your lap, pressing your thighs together, willing yourself to not think about how close he was.

Jisung plopped down next to you, completely oblivious to the way your entire body was warring with itself. "Alright, losers. No mercy."

You rolled your eyes, forcing yourself to focus. It’s just a game. You’ve played this a million times. Just concentrate.

The race countdown began, the screen lighting up as the first match of Mario Kart kicked off. You gripped your controller, determined to shake off whatever ridiculous spell Felix had on you.

And then you made the mistake of glancing at him again.

His hands moved with expert precision, veins on his forearms prominent as he worked the controller effortlessly. His fingers; a little shorter but beautiful, dexterous- flicked over the buttons with ease, thumb pressing down hard on the joystick as he maneuvered his kart. You swallowed, watching how they twitched with each slight movement, how fast they were-

You nearly missed the start. Your character jerked forward awkwardly while everyone else sped ahead.

"Yahh," Jisung laughed, bumping his shoulder into yours. "You know you have to move, right?"

"I- I was," you said quickly, adjusting your grip. "Just had a bad start."

Felix, still focused on the game, didn’t look at you. But he smirked. He fucking smirked.

Your stomach clenched.

You tried to focus, tried to shake it off, but then his tongue darted out, wetting his lips before catching the bottom one between his teeth. And god, it was such a casual thing, something so innocent, but why did it make your breath hitch? Why was your brain suddenly short-circuiting over something so simple?

You had barely recovered from that when Seungmin’s kart sent Felix spinning off-course, and he let out a low groan, deep and annoyed, his jaw clenching as his tongue pressed into his cheek.

Oh.

Oh, that was so fucking hot, and unfair.

Heat rushed through you, making your grip on the controller falter. Your entire body felt tight, restless. The way he shifted slightly, adjusting his position with that focused expression, the way his sleeves bunched at his elbows, exposing more of his forearms-

You missed a turn entirely.

Your kart slammed straight into a wall.

"Wow," Changbin snorted. "Did being sick mess up your eyesight?"

You cleared your throat, trying to recover. "No! no, I'm just- just warming up."

"Sure you are," Jisung teased.

Felix still didn’t say anything, but you swore you saw his fingers tighten on his controller for a fraction of a second.

You sucked in a deep breath and tried to focus, tried to play like you normally would, but it was impossible.

Every time Felix reacted- whether it was a sharp inhale when someone overtook him or the way his knee bounced impatiently when he was trailing behind- it got to you.

By the time the race ended, you blinked at the results in horror.

Dead last.

Even the bots had beaten you.

There was a beat of silence before a chorus of laughter erupted around you.

"Wait, what?" Jisung wheezed. "How does that happen?"

"That’s never happened before," Hyunjin added, frowning at you. "Aren’t you usually, like… stupidly good at this game?"

Felix finally turned his head to look at you.

And the moment his gaze met yours, it was over.

His eyes held something unreadable, something amused yet dark, something that made your stomach do a full flip. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t.

He didn’t have to.

Because the way he looked at you, the way his gaze flickered just slightly down before returning to yours, the way his fingers twitched against the controller, said everything.

He knew.

You felt heat flood your face, your entire body suddenly feeling too warm.

You ripped your gaze away. "I- I wasn’t focusing."

"Yeah, no shit," Jisung laughed.

"Rematch," you blurted out, gripping your controller so hard your knuckles ached. "We’re doing a rematch."

Felix finally smirked. Not the small, teasing kind he had given before.

No, this one was deeper. Slower.

Like he was enjoying watching you squirm.

"Whatever you say," he murmured, voice just low enough for only you to hear.

And fuck.

You were in so much trouble.

You clenched your thighs together, your entire body coiled so tightly you felt like you might explode at any moment. You needed a distraction. Actually- nevermind, you could use less distractions.

The rematch started, and this time, you were determined to win.

Felix had gotten under your skin, but two could play at this game. If he wanted to tease you, if he wanted to smirk at you like that, look at you like that, then fine. You’d give him something to react to, too.

As soon as the race began, you leaned forward slightly, getting into it, letting your knee press against his. It was subtle, barely there, but you knew he felt it.

His fingers twitched.

You pushed forward, knocking him slightly off-course, earning a sharp inhale from him as his kart swerved.

"Playing dirty?" he murmured, not taking his eyes off the screen.

You tilted your head innocently. "What, me?"

He huffed out something close to a laugh, shaking his head.

The game quickly turned into a war between just the two of you. The others were playing, sure, but it didn’t matter. It was you versus him. Every drift, every shortcut, every item thrown, it was all just to one-up each other.

When he overtook you, you let out a quiet, breathy whine of frustration, just loud enough for only him to hear.

His fingers twitched again.

You smirked.

"Oh my god, what's gotten into you?" Jisung commented, watching the way you two were completely locked in, ignoring everything else.

Felix’s knee bumped yours this time, just slightly, just enough to throw you off for a split second, and suddenly, he was in first.

You bit your lip, gripping your controller tighter.

He hummed, low and knowing, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

The final lap was chaos. Items flying, turns taken too sharply, both of you trying to psych each other out. But then-

Felix suddenly reached for the hem of his shirt, lifting it to wipe at his face, revealing the sharp cut of his stomach, the defined lines leading down beneath the waistband of his sweats.

And your brain broke.

Your fingers fumbled. Your character swerved.

His smirk was immediate.

"You’re kidding me," you hissed, barely managing to get back on track.

"Something wrong?" he asked, voice too smooth, too smug.

You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to focus. But it was too late.

Felix crossed the finish line first.

You, just barely, came in second.

A chorus of reactions erupted around you, but you weren’t even listening.

Felix turned his head toward you, slow and deliberate, eyes still dark with amusement.

You could not do this right now.

"I need water," you blurted out, practically throwing your controller onto the couch as you stood.

Felix didn’t stop you. He didn’t have to.

Because you felt his eyes on you the entire way to the kitchen.

You sucked in a deep, steadying breath, filling up a glass of water with tap water to give yourself something to do. The cool liquid soothed the burning ache in your throat, the tight knot in your stomach finally unclenching slightly.

But you didn't miss it. The way he followed you, making his way casually toward you, leaning against the kitchen counter.

He was too close. Too close, too fucking hot, his sleeves still pushed up his forearms, the muscles tense and prominent under the smooth tan skin.

The way he was looking at you, fuck.

"Mm-" you cleared your throat, willing your voice to stay steady. "That was a close game." You said, deciding to not mention the amount of tension that was just previously between you two.

"It was." His voice was so smooth, so steady, so goddamn collected when all you felt was falling apart.

He shifted his stance, and fuck, his shirt shifted a bit with him. Just enough to reveal a hint of the v-line of his lower abdomen. You forced your gaze back to the glass of water. "Are we uh… playing Uno next?"

His gaze raked over you slowly, like he was savoring you, taking in every detail, every movement. "Are you still trying to avoid me?"

You almost choked, snapping your gaze to his. He didn't look angry or hurt. No. There was something else in his eyes. A sort of playfulness, something that made you swallow hard. "N- no, of course not."

Felix took a step closer.

Heat flashed through your body, a million responses flickering through your mind. A part of you wanted to back down. To apologize for making him feel uncomfortable, for crossing the line. Another part of you wanted to grab him, to shove him up against the nearest surface and kiss him until his lips were swollen again, to not even care who heard, to show him how much you wanted him-

"Uno it is, then."

-

The night stretched on, the group dwindling as exhaustion set in. It was past 2 AM now, and the whining had reached its peak.

"Okay, I'm tapping out," Hyunjin groaned, dramatically flopping onto the couch before peeling himself up again. "I’m going to bed before I actually pass out here."

"You guys are weak," Jisung muttered, but even he sounded drowsy, rubbing at his eyes.

One by one, everyone started disappearing to their rooms, the energy in the room shifting from chaotic to something quieter, heavier.

And then, Felix caught your gaze.

It was quick, barely a flicker of a look, but you felt it everywhere. The way his lips barely curved at the corners, the way his head tilted ever so slightly toward the hallway.

Your stomach clenched.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to.

As the last of them retreated, the house fell silent. The kind of silence that made everything feel weightier, like the air itself had thickened.

You hesitated in your room for what felt like an eternity, your heart hammering in your chest.

With shaky fingers, you pushed open your door and stepped out, padding quietly down the hall in your pajamas.

When you reached his door, you hesitated, nerves tightening in your stomach. The hallway felt too quiet, the weight of your own anticipation pressing down on your chest. Your fingers hovered over the doorknob, your mind racing. Why did he call me here? What does he want?

But more than that, why did you want to find out so badly?

Taking a steadying breath, you gathered your courage and pushed the door open just enough to slip inside.

Felix was there, exactly where you'd imagined him, leaning back against his headboard, his legs stretched out comfortably, one hand resting lazily over his stomach while the other held his phone.

The second he saw you, he dropped it without a second thought, the soft thud against his blankets barely registering over the way his entire face shifted.

Slow. Almost shy. A smile spread across his lips, lighting up his features.

And goddamn it.

He looked so good. So effortlessly, unfairly good. His hair was slightly tousled, like he had been running his fingers through it absentmindedly. His hoodie was loose over his frame, draping in a way that made him look entirely too comfortable, like he belonged exactly here, like he had been waiting for you.

And then there was the way his fingers splayed across his stomach, his sweatshirt riding up just slightly, revealing a sliver of smooth skin.

You felt like melting straight into the floor.

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to take a step closer before perching on the very edge of his bed, hands fisting into the hem of your pajama shirt to keep yourself from fidgeting.

"Why did you- why did you call me here?" Your voice came out softer than you intended, and you hated the way it betrayed you, revealing too much.

Felix exhaled a soft chuckle, shifting his weight as he turned more toward you. And then, like it was the easiest thing in the world, he reached out, the warmth of his palm pressing against your thigh.

Your heart stuttered.

A hot and unrelenting feeling sat inside of you, spreading from the point of contact and curling into your stomach.

"I just thought," he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over the fabric of your pajama pants, "since you... took care of me this morning, maybe I should repay you."

Something in your chest twisted.

The words themselves weren’t inherently bad. They weren’t cold. But the way he said them, too smooth, too casual, made something inside you crack.

Like this was nothing more than an obligation. Like the way you had touched him this morning, the way he had melted under your hands, had just been another favor to return.

Not because he wanted to.

Not because it meant anything to him.

You froze, the warmth in your stomach flipping into something heavier, something uncomfortable.

Felix must have sensed the shift immediately because his grip on your thigh loosened, the easy confidence on his face faltering as he tilted his head, brows pinching slightly in concern.

"Wait- hey, what’s wrong?" His voice softened, suddenly cautious.

You shook your head quickly, blinking against the sudden sting in your eyes. You hated how fast the emotions swelled inside you, how stupid you felt for thinking, for hoping, that maybe he wanted you.

That maybe he liked you.

"Felix," you exhaled, your voice barely holding steady. "You don’t have to do things like that just to pay me back."

His entire expression crumbled, guilt flashing across his features. "I didn’t mean-"

"You don’t owe me anything," you said, voice cracking as you suddenly pushed yourself to stand. "This was a mistake."

"Wait-"

Your breath hitched as his fingers curled gently around your wrist, not tight enough to trap you, just enough to make you stop. Enough to make you feel the warmth of his skin, the unspoken plea in his touch.

"Wait," he said again, even softer this time, like he was afraid the word might break if he said it too loudly.

You stood frozen, staring at the door in front of you, at the blurred outlines of your own reflection in the dark window beyond it. You willed yourself to take another step, to keep moving, to leave.

"I really do... want this."

The words barely reached you, so quiet they almost melted into the stillness of the room. But you heard them. Felt them. And they shattered something inside you.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides, your throat tightening painfully as you let out a sharp, humorless breath.

"Don’t," you whispered.

Felix didn’t move, but you could feel the weight of his presence behind you, could hear his breath just as unsteady as yours.

"You really shouldn’t want this, Felix," you said, and this time, your voice broke. "Because this isn’t something best friends do."

Silence.

Then, before you could pull away, before you could do anything at all, his grip shifted, slow, careful, as he turned you just enough to slip his arms around you from behind.

Your entire body stiffened as the warmth of his chest pressed against your back, as his arms folded around you, holding you against him.

"I know," he murmured, voice thick with something you couldn’t name.

You should have pulled away.

Should have stepped out of his arms and walked out that door before this got even more tangled, even more painful.

But you didn’t.

Because even though you shouldn’t love the way he held you, shouldn’t love the way his warmth seeped into your skin, grounding you, calming you, you did.

Even though you shouldn’t love the way his breath tickled the back of your neck, the way he exhaled like he was relieved to be holding you, you did.

And suddenly, no matter how hard you fought it, no matter how much you tried to blink them back, the tears fell.

Your shoulders shook, a quiet sob breaking past your lips, and Felix tensed, his grip on you tightening just slightly.

"Shh," he comforted you, letting his hand rub comforting circles on you. "I’m sorry."

His voice wavered, and god, it only made you cry harder.

"It feels so wrong," he whispered, his arms tightening around you like he could hold you together, like he could keep you from unraveling. "But it's all I can think about."

You tried to stop it, but a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob broke from your mouth, and Felix froze.

"You don't have to say things like that," you sniffled, bringing your hands up to cover your face in embarrassment.

His grip shifted, just slightly, as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck, where his breath was previously fanning against. It made your breath hitch, your entire body shuddering at the feeling of his lips on you.

"You think I don't want to kiss you?" He asked, voice barely above a whisper. "That I haven't imagined what it would be like to touch you in the ways you've touched me?" He leaned back just enough for his fingers to reach yours, lacing together with your hand as he guided your fingers to your cheek. He was holding you, kissing you, yet his hands were shaky against your own. "Do you feel this?"

"Felix." His name left your mouth on an exhale, half a warning, half a plea.

"Do you?" He insisted.

Your chest ached with the weight of his words, the sheer desperation laced in his voice breaking something inside you. And suddenly, you couldn’t hold back anymore. You couldn’t stop yourself from turning into him, from slipping your fingers free of his and bringing both hands to his face, tilting his head just enough before you crashed your lips against his.

The second your mouths met, it was like everything inside you ignited at once. The tension, the longing, the days of unspoken desire roared to life, consuming you both. His grip tightened at your waist, his grip firm as he pulled you flush against him. The heat of his body pressed into yours, and the sheer force of it sent you stumbling back onto the bed, your pulse hammering in your ears.

Felix followed without hesitation, his hands bracing on either side of you as he hovered over you, his body caging yours in the best way possible. His lips were urgent, hungry, moving against yours like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth, like he couldn’t get enough. You gasped as his tongue flicked out to taste you, the slow, teasing slide of it making you shudder beneath him.

A low, needy sound rumbled in his throat when you ran your hands up his clothed torso, your hands resting on his shoulders and pulling him even closer. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more. Your hands slipped beneath the thick material, palms skimming over the lean muscles of his back, feeling the way his breath hitched at your touch.

Felix groaned into your mouth, the kiss breaking as he shifted to straddle you. You watched him for a beat, eyes taking him in.

He looked good enough to eat. His hoodie had bunched around his hips, the fabric barely clinging to him, his lower half exposed. Your gaze flicked down to the v-line of his abdomen before dropping to the visible tent in his boxers.

When you looked back up at his face, you found him already watching you, his cheeks flushed as his fingers gripped at the hem of his sweatshirt.

He didn't pull it off yet, his expression hesitant. Like he was afraid he might ruin something, that you might break beneath his touch. It was a stupid, irrational fear. You were already ruined, already broken. And all you wanted was for him to break you a little bit more.

"Please," you whispered, the last shred of your resolve fading.

The sound of your voice seemed to hit a part of his brain. His grip tightened on the hem before he finally lifted the garment over his head, his hair mussing just slightly, and god. He was even hotter shirtless than you imagined. He was all smooth lines and tan skin, toned yet soft.

All smooth, skin stretched over lean muscle, toned yet soft in a way that made your mouth go dry. Your hands moved on instinct, sliding up his torso, palms pressing into the warmth of his skin. He shivered under your touch, his stomach tensing as your fingers trailed along the ridges of his abdomen.

“You look so good,” you murmured, barely recognizing your own voice.

Felix exhaled a breathy laugh, but the sound was shaky, like he was nervous, like your words had done something to him. His hands found your wrists, guiding your palms higher, over his ribs, his chest, until your fingertips brushed over his collarbones. His heartbeat thrummed beneath your touch, quick and uneven, matching your own.

Your breath caught as Felix let your hands roam over his skin, his muscles twitching beneath your touch. But just as your fingers trailed back down, seeking the familiar heat of his stomach, tracing down his v-line, he suddenly caught your wrists, his grip firm yet gentle.

“Wait,” he whispered.

You blinked, your brows pulling together as you instinctively tried to tug your hands free. “Felix—”

His hold didn’t waver, but there was no force behind it, just hesitation. A soft flush crept up his neck, settling high on his cheeks, his lips parting like he was debating something, fighting with himself over whether or not to say it.

“I don’t… I don’t want to be the only one receiving anymore,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a breath. His fingers squeezed yours lightly, almost apologetic, almost embarrassed. “Not tonight.”

Something about the way he said it, so soft, so unguarded, made your heart stumble.

Your first instinct was to protest, because you loved watching him unravel under your touch, loved the way he shivered, the way his breath hitched, the way he melted when you traced your fingers over the sensitive planes of his body. You wanted more of it, you always did.

But before you could say anything, he glanced up at you through his lashes, his grip on your hands loosening, and whispered, “I want to touch you.”

Your stomach flipped.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. He must have mistaken your silence for reluctance, because he ducked his head slightly, his thumb brushing idly over your palm as he continued, quieter this time.

“If that’s okay,” he murmured, voice so gentle, so sweet, something about the tone of his voice made your heart ache.

You swallowed hard, your skin burning at the weight of his words.

Then, before you could find your voice, Felix shifted, sliding down. Your breath stilled as he settled onto his knees on the floor, looking up at you with his eyes that held something shy, something uncertain, but also something unmistakably wanting.

His fingers found your thighs, barely touching, just ghosting over the fabric of your pajama pants as he tested the waters. His hands were warm, his touch hesitant but deliberate, and when you didn’t pull away, he let his grip tighten just slightly, just enough to make your breath shudder out of you.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled you closer to the edge, his fingers flexing against your skin.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, could hear the unsteady rise and fall of his breathing as he stared up at you, waiting.

“You always take care of me,” he whispered, his voice almost pleading, his fingers squeezing ever so slightly at your thighs. “Let me take care of you.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs, your whole body thrumming with anticipation, with the sheer weight of his words.

And when he pressed his lips to the inside of your knee, just a soft, fleeting kiss, your resolve crumbled entirely.

You nodded, barely able to breathe, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin.

Felix hesitated for only a second, his fingers twitching slightly before they found your waist, warm and uncertain, like he was afraid to move too quickly. His touch was light, barely there, as his hands slid beneath your shirt, his fingertips grazing your ribs in a way that made you shiver. The anticipation, the slow, almost teasing pace, sent a wave of heat down your spine.

Your thighs tensed involuntarily, but you couldn’t close them, not with him kneeling between them, his presence impossible to ignore. The thought of what he might do, what you wanted him to do, burned through you, your breath catching as his hands moved higher.

His fingers traced the curves of your body like he was mapping them, committing every dip and rise to memory. And when he hesitantly skimmed over the swell of your breast, a sharp gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it.

Felix’s head snapped up. His breath hitched audibly, his cheeks flushed a deep, beautiful red. His gaze flickered between your face and where his palm now fully cupped you, his grip instinctively tightening before he gave the slightest squeeze. The reaction it pulled from you; your soft inhale, the way your head tipped back, made something shift in his expression.

You didn’t miss the way he squirmed slightly, his thighs clenching as though your reactions affected him as much as his touch affected you. But then his fingers left you, his warmth vanishing too soon, leaving your skin aching in its absence.

"You’re so beautiful," he whispered, almost like he was speaking to himself, his voice laced with something raw. His hands found the hem of your shirt, slowly pushing it up, revealing more of you to his hungry gaze. "So beautiful."

You wanted to argue, to hide, to cover yourself in embarrassment, but then his lips.

Soft. Gentle. Worshipping.

They pressed just below your navel, sending a tremor through you. His kisses were slow, unhurried, as though he wanted to savor every inch of you, his lips lingering, breathing you in. Every touch, every press of his mouth, was deliberate, and the way he moved, like he never wanted to stop, made your breath quicken, your fingers curling into the sheets.

Felix didn’t stop. He trailed lower, exhaling softly against your skin, his hands curling around your hips as he pressed his forehead there for just a second. As if grounding himself. As if overwhelmed by you.

Then his fingers dipped into the waistband of your pajama pants, testing. Seeking permission.

And when you gave him the smallest nod, he exhaled shakily, his grip tightening before he slowly, so torturously slowly, began to slide them down.

The seconds felt like hours. Like an eternity. You were exposed, vulnerable, and you could only watch as he pulled your pajama bottoms down your legs.

Then you were left in nothing but your underwear, and the reality of it all hit you at once.

Felix leaned back just slightly, his breath unsteady, his gaze trailing down your legs before lingering at the apex of your thighs. His eyes widened, his lips parting as if he’d forgotten how to breathe, and suddenly, the heat of his attention became too much.

You shifted instinctively, your thighs pressing together, a flush crawling up your skin. Embarrassment bloomed in your chest, the urge to cover yourself nearly overwhelming.

Felix must have sensed it because his gaze snapped up to yours, his expression softening. Without a word, he moved closer again, bracing one hand beside your hip as he pressed his lips to the inside of your thigh, gentle, warm, like he was easing you into this, like he was reminding you that you were safe with him.

Your breath hitched, and his free hand found your thigh, fingertips barely skimming the surface as he traced slow, teasing patterns. His touch was featherlight, barely there, but the sensation sent a shiver through you, your muscles tensing beneath his hand.

"It's okay," he murmured against your skin, the vibration of his voice making you tremble.

His touch shifted, his palm resting over your knee as he gently coaxed your legs open. Your heart thrummed at the feeling of your legs spreading for him, your mind going hazy with arousal.

"So good," he praised, and the words made you shudder, your head spinning.

Slowly, carefully, he guided your legs over his shoulders, letting them settle there as his hands slid along the outside of your thighs. His eyes locked on yours before he leaned in.

A soft gasp escaped you, your pulse quickening as he pressed a slow, teasing kiss to your inner thigh, so close to where you needed him most.

One of your hands found its way to his hair, feeling a little sensitive from his breath tickling your skin. Felix exhaled a shaky sound, his hips shifting slightly against the mattress as he let his mouth linger.

You swallowed hard, your stomach fluttering as he slowly trailed lower, his lips brushing dangerously close to the crease where your thigh met your hip. Your grip tightened on his hair, pulling another muffled sound from him, something like a whimper.

It made your mind fog over with heat, your thighs clenching instinctively. But then his grip shifted, his hands sliding beneath your thighs, fingers curling around your legs as he pinned you open.

A shaky moan broke from your lips, your head falling back as your hand gripped at his hair even harder, a jolt of pleasure shooting through you. He hadn't even touched you yet, and the feeling of being held open, of being almost completely exposed for him, was overwhelming.

"Felix," you breathed, your hips squirming under his grip.

He hummed softly in acknowledgment, but it was more of a low, needy sound than an actual response. Then he pressed another kiss to your thigh, just slightly higher this time, before he lightly bit down on the soft skin.

The unexpected pressure made you gasp, your fingers clenching in his hair. He let out a muffled sound, his fingertips digging into your thighs as he released the skin from between his teeth. Then he soothed the sting with another soft kiss, his lips lingering as his breath fanned over your skin.

Your hips shifted again, a whimper rising in your throat as he continued teasing you. He was so close, so painfully close, but not close enough.

"Please," you breathed, your voice shaky and unsteady. "I need-"

Your words cut off abruptly as Felix closed the distance. Your muscles tensed, a gasp escaping your lips as his tongue flicked out, tracing over the wet fabric of your underwear. The sensation was light, barely there, but it made you shudder, your body suddenly feeling too hot, too sensitive.

He exhaled a soft sigh against you, the sound sending a jolt of heat down your spine, and then he was pressing kisses, teasing you with his mouth, his tongue, making you tremble.

A soft, needy sound escaped you, the feeling of his lips on you making your mind go hazy with arousal. You shifted, instinctively trying to close your legs, but his hands were firm, holding you open for him.

"Fuck," you gasped, the word trailing off into a whimper as he nuzzled closer, breathing you in.

His tongue traced the outline of you, slow, teasing, before he mouthed at you, dragging the fabric over your clit. Your back arched slightly, a shaky moan breaking past your lips. He did it again, harder this time, his mouth hot even through the thin barrier.

Felix groaned into you, the vibration of his voice making your hips jerk against his grip. And then suddenly, his fingers slipped into the waistband of your underwear. He didn't stop kissing you, didn't stop touching you as he dragged the fabric down your thighs, leaving you bare.

And then he pulled away just enough for him to take in the view. His pupils were blown wide, his cheeks flushed, his lips wet with you. The sight of it made your breath hitch, your heart thrumming against your ribs.

"You're so pretty," he whispered, and god, his voice sounded so fucked out, so breathless. "So pretty."

A desperate sound rose in your throat, your hips shifting at his words. "Fuck, don't say things like that."

He hummed softly in acknowledgment, sitting back on his heels. But he didn't respond, instead, he ran his fingers through his hair, pulling the strands back. You watched, captivated, as he gathered his hair into a messy bun, securing it with a hair tie around his wrist. Then, slowly, deliberately, he trailed his fingers along the inside of your thighs, his gaze following the movement before his eyes met yours again.

Your pulse quickened, your skin tingling beneath his touch.

Then his thumb brushed over you, slow, experimental. The sudden pressure made your breath catch, your muscles tensing as you tried to suppress a shiver.

His gaze flicked up to yours, gauging your reaction as he repeated the movement. You whimpered, your grip tightening on the sheets as he repeated the action again, and again. The feeling of his thumb moving against you sent sparks of pleasure through you, but it wasn't enough.

You gasped out, your hips rolling into his touch.

"I know, baby," he murmured affectionately, his voice barely above a whisper.

Baby. The word made your head spin. Hearing it fall from his lips caused you to clench around nothing, the emptiness almost painful.

His eyes widened slightly at your reaction, looking up at you through his lashes with something akin to amusement. Then his hand left you, leaving you cold, leaving you empty. You wanted to protest, wanted to beg him to touch you again, but before you could, he pressed his lips to the inside of your thigh, soft, tender.

You stilled, your breath hitching as he trailed slow, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, making you more impatient.

When he reached the apex of your thighs, he hesitated. You could feel his warm breath fanning over you, sending a wave of heat down your spine.

Then he leaned in, and you gasped.

A choked sound escaped your lips, your back arching as he pressed his tongue against you. You felt him smirk, just slightly, before he did it again, licking a slow, firm stripe up your slit.

The feeling of his mouth on you was unlike anything you'd ever felt before, hot and wet and overwhelming. A shudder ran through you, your hips twitching against his grip as he repeated the action, his tongue tracing over your folds.

The sensation made your legs tremble, your head falling back as you moaned out, your voice sounding unfamiliar to your ears. Felix groaned in response, his hands tightening on your thighs as he pulled you closer, burying his face between your legs.

Your skin was tingling, your body burning with arousal. But then he flicked his tongue over your clit, slow and teasing. It was so light, so gentle, yet it made you whimper, heat pooling in your lower stomach.

"F-Felix," you gasped out, your fingers curling into the sheets.

He hummed softly in acknowledgment, the sound vibrating against you. Then he did it again, firmer this time, his tongue circling your clit before he flicked it once more.

Your breath hitched, your thighs clenching around his head.

He seemed to notice your reaction because he repeated the motion, adding a little more pressure. Your hips twitched involuntarily, your voice breaking off into a moan.

"Shit," you breathed, barely able to string words together. "Feels so good."

The praise made him whimper, his grip tightening on your thighs as he continued licking at you. Your back arched slightly, the sensation making your muscles tense, your skin buzzing. He continued teasing your clit, each flick of his tongue sending sparks of pleasure through you.

But you needed more. You wanted more.

Suddenly, you felt his fingers sliding up your thigh, tentative. When his thumb brushed against you again, you moaned, your hips rolling against his touch.

"Yes," you gasped out, barely able to breathe. "Please."

Felix pulled away just enough for him to speak, his breath fanning over your sensitive skin, making you shiver. "You want my fingers?"

You nodded frantically, unable to form words, unable to do anything but chase the feeling. He hummed softly, almost to himself, as though he were savoring your reactions.

Then his hand shifted, his thumb brushing against your entrance. The sensation made you gasp, your hips bucking forward, trying to get him inside. But he only pressed another soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, murmuring low against your skin.

"Relax, baby," he murmured, the term of endearment sending a jolt of heat straight to your core.

Then his index finger slowly eased inside, the sudden sensation making you gasp. His grip tightened on your thigh, his touch reassuring, grounding, as he added his middle finger, probing deeper.

Your legs trembled, your head falling back as a soft whimper broke past your lips.

His mouth was still on you, his tongue tracing lazy circles around your clit as he pumped his fingers in and out, slow and torturous. The feeling of his mouth on you, his finger filling you, was overwhelming.

You were so wound up, so desperate, that the sudden rush of pleasure was nearly too much.

"Fuck, Felix," you moaned, your hands fisting into the sheets.

The sound of his name made him whimper against you, his tongue flicking out, teasing. He curled his fingers inside you, searching, seeking. Then he found what he was looking for, a spot that made your hips jerk against his touch, a broken moan rising from your throat.

He groaned into you, his tongue moving faster against your clit, his fingers hitting that same spot over and over again.

Heat coiled in your stomach, your muscles tensing as he kept up his pace. Your skin was tingling, your breath coming in short, shaky gasps as he continued, his fingers pumping in and out.

You felt yourself getting closer, the sensation of his mouth and his fingers pushing you to the edge.

"Wait, I'm close," you breathed, your voice breaking off into a whimper. "Lixie, please-"

Your words trailed off into a moan as he sped up, curling his fingers with each thrust. The feeling of him touching you, fucking you, was overwhelming. Your vision blurred, your hips rolling against his touch as you chased the feeling.

A sharp cry escaped you, your back arching, your legs tensing around his head. Your muscles clenched around his fingers, waves of pleasure shooting through you as he kept moving his hand. You trembled, your body aching, your thighs shaking as he fucked you through your orgasm.

When your breathing finally started to slow, he gently pulled his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty, a whine building in your throat. But then he pressed one last kiss to your thigh, tender and sweet.

Felix let out a slow, steady breath, his hands still smoothing over your legs in absentminded strokes as he leaned back. His lips were swollen, his cheeks stained with warmth, and his hair, god, his hair; was a complete mess, strands of it falling into his eyes. He looked so pretty like this, so utterly wrecked and yet still so gentle, so sweet.

You wanted to tell him. Wanted to whisper how beautiful he was, how good he made you feel, how all of you felt like it belonged to him in this moment. But the words didn’t come. Instead, you reached forward, fingers slipping into his hair, pushing the stray strands back.

He closed his eyes at the touch, exhaling softly, and before you could stop yourself, you tugged him toward you. He let himself be pulled, crawling onto the bed, settling beside you as you wrapped yourself around him, pressing into his warmth.

There was a quiet hum of contentment as he rested his forehead against your shoulder, his arms winding around your waist. He held you like he never wanted to let go, his fingertips tracing light patterns along your back.

And for a moment, you let yourself forget everything else. The worries, the overthinking, none of it mattered. Not right now.

All that mattered was this. The warmth of him. The way your body still trembled from what he’d done. The knowledge that he had wanted to. That he had chosen to.

But then, as your breathing steadied, your mind caught onto something else, something that made your stomach twist.

You could feel him.

Hard and aching against your thigh, his body trembling ever so slightly as he held you. He hadn’t asked for anything in return. Hadn’t even hinted at it. He had done this just for you, just because he wanted to.

But now, you wanted to do something for him too.

Your face burned at the thought, nerves creeping in as you swallowed hard.

You hesitated before whispering, “I can, um…” You swallowed again, heat spreading up your neck as you forced the words out. “I can help you too. With my mouth.”

Felix stiffened instantly. His arms tightened around you for a split second before he pulled back slightly, eyes wide, face already turning red.

“I-” He shook his head, his voice breathless, uneven. “No. I… I only wanted to take care of you.”

You frowned. “But-”

“I don’t think I can handle that right now,” he admitted, voice quieter, his fingers gripping onto you as if the thought alone had overwhelmed him.

You bit your lip, staring at him. He looked so nervous, so wrecked already, and you knew he meant it. But at the same time, you could feel him, could feel how much he needed something, anything.

So you thought for a moment. Then, hesitantly, you spoke again.

“What about…” You swallowed, your heart pounding in your ears. “What about my thighs?”

Felix nearly choked on his own breath. His eyes snapped to yours, his face going impossibly red, and he let out something between a cough and a gasp, his grip on you tightening as he tried to process your words.

And honestly? That reaction only made you want to do it more.

You shifted, laying back on your elbows and letting your legs fall open slightly. He exhaled shakily, watching the way you still dripped from earlier, and suddenly, he seemed to forget how to breathe.

You bit the inside of your cheek, your skin tingling under his gaze.

He didn't move, didn't speak, just stared. And fuck, he looked like he was in absolute awe of you, like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks. "Lix?"

He blinked, his eyes refocusing. "Um, are you sure?"

You nodded, swallowing hard. "Please."

He let out a shaky breath, his grip tightening on your ankles. Then, slowly, deliberately, he pulled them together, resting your calves on his shoulder as he leaned forward.

You watched as he hesitated before fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them down just enough for his cock to spring free. He was already dripping, flushed pink, hard and straining, and the sight of him like this, so needy, made your stomach flutter.

Felix's hands were shaking slightly as he reached out, gently guiding himself between your thighs. The sudden feeling of him against you made you gasp, the sound making him whimper, his cock twitching.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice unsteady.

His hands wrapped around your ankles once more, holding them in place as he rocked his hips forward experimentally. A shaky moan broke past his lips as he dragged his cock through your folds, smearing precum across your skin.

Your eyes widened when you realized how intimate this looked and felt, your mind going hazy with arousal. You were still sensitive from before, still aching from his mouth, and the feeling of him sliding through your thighs made your head spin.

He exhaled a shaky sigh, his grip tightening on your ankles as he continued rocking his hips. The friction was delicious, hot and wet and overwhelming. You couldn't help but whimper, your skin tingling, your stomach twisting with heat.

He leaned forward, his body hovering over yours as he pressed your ankles closer together, the pressure making you gasp.

You threw your head back, your eyes fluttering shut as he fucked into you, slow and steady. You could feel every inch of him sliding between your thighs, his cock hot and heavy against your skin.

The feeling of him surrounding you like this, your legs pressed together, your thighs slick with his precum and your own wetness, was too much. A soft whimper broke past your lips as you rolled your hips, desperate for some kind of friction.

But he suddenly paused when he felt your folds rub up against him, making a sound that was way too erotic for your own good. His head fell forward, his cock twitching against your thighs.

"Shit," he moaned, his voice barely above a whisper. "Don't do that."

You swallowed hard, your body tensing at the sound of his voice, so low and breathless. "Sorry," you mumbled, unable to form any other words.

Felix let out a shaky breath, his fingers digging into your ankles as he pushed them closer together, holding your legs in place as he tried to take a moment to compose himself. But then you shifted slightly beneath him, and a choked sound broke past his lips, his hips jerking forward instinctively.

"Fuck, baby," he moaned, his eyes fluttering shut as his cock slid against your folds once more, making you whimper. "You're so wet."

The words sent a wave of heat through you, your skin tingling, your muscles clenching. He was right, you were dripping, your arousal mixing with his precum, slick and hot and wet.

And then, before you could respond, he started moving again, his thrusts faster, harder this time. Each stroke dragged along your folds, his cock pressing a delicious pressure against your clit. You couldn't help but gasp, your hips rolling into the feeling, trying to get closer.

"Lixie," you breathed, your voice shaking.

Your hands fisted in the sheets as he continued fucking into you, his grip tightening on your ankles as he held them in place. You could feel yourself getting closer with each thrust, your skin tingling, your muscles tensing as you chased the feeling.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," he gasped out, his voice breaking off into a moan. "So good."

The praise made you shudder, and your hips rolled into him, your breath catching in your throat.

"Please," you whimpered, the word trailing off into a gasp as he pressed your ankles closer together, holding them tighter.

Your back arched off the mattress, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt his cock drag against you, hard and hot and heavy. It was so good, too good. You couldn't think, couldn't breathe. All you could do was moan, your voice breaking off into a desperate sound as he kept thrusting between your thighs.

He groaned into you, his body trembling as he fucked you, his movements starting to grow erratic, sloppy. You could feel yourself getting closer, your skin buzzing, your muscles tensing as you tried to hold on.

"Come on, Y/N," he moaned, his voice breathless. "Give it to me."

The words made you gasp, your back arching off the mattress as you felt yourself slipping over the edge. Your legs tensed around him, your toes curling as pleasure shot through you, making you shiver.

Felix whimpered at the sensation, his hips stuttering as he kept thrusting into you. Your eyes rolled back, your head falling to the side as you rode out your high.

He followed soon after, his fingers digging into your ankles as he came, hot and wet and sticky. You could feel him spilling all over the uncovered skin of your lower stomach as he let out a string of beautiful moans, his voice breaking off into a gasp.

He collapsed on top of you, burying his face into your neck as he tried to catch his breath, his body trembling.

For a moment, you just laid there, unable to move, unable to speak, your chest heaving. And then slowly, deliberately, you reached up, running your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. He whimpered in response, his face still hidden in your neck, his arms winding around you, holding you close.

"Lix," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Are you okay?"

He exhaled a slow, steady breath before nodding, his grip on you tightening slightly. You smiled at the reaction, your fingers carding through his hair.

Then he mumbled something under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like thank you.

"You're welcome," you murmured, your voice soft. "Are you okay? Was that too much?"

He shook his head, pulling away just enough to look at you. His eyes were dark, hooded, his cheeks flushed.

"I'm fine," he breathed, his voice still slightly shaky. "That was... so much."

You bit the inside of your cheek, your gaze falling to your lap. "I know. Messy too. We should probably-"

Felix cut you off by pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, silencing you instantly. The gesture made your heart flutter, warmth spreading through you.

"Let me clean you," he mumbled, his voice quiet, almost shy.

You felt yourself blush at his words, your stomach twisting. But before you could respond, he stood up, disappearing into your bathroom.

You couldn't help but stare at his back, watching as his muscles flexed with each movement, his skin glowing in the moonlight. He was so pretty, so soft, so... everything.

The sight of him like this made your chest ache, your heart hammering against your ribs as you watched him walk away.

And then, as soon as he was out of sight, you remembered the situation. You remembered that you were almost completely naked, that your thighs and stomach were coated in his cum, that you were laying in his bed after he'd fucked you with his tongue.

Oh my god.

Your face burned at the thought, your pulse quickening. You'd never felt like this before, never experienced anything like it. I mean, yeah, you've had sex before, but not sex like this. Not sex that made your entire body tingle. Not sex that felt so intimate even when it wasn't supposed to be.

You swallowed hard as you heard him return, your gaze turning to the ceiling. He paused, his eyes scanning over your body, taking in the sight of you spread out across his bed. He hesitated, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, before he stepped closer, a wet cloth in his hand.

He reached out, his movements slow and gentle as he wiped you down. Your stomach twisted, your breath catching in your throat as he cleaned you up, careful not to leave anything behind.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't say anything in response, only nodded before returning to the bathroom. When he returned, he crawled back into the bed, pulling the covers over you both.

"Wait- you want me to sleep here?" You asked, surprise evident in your voice.

He hummed in agreement, reaching over to turn off the light. "Yeah," he whispered, his voice low. "We've slept together before, what's the problem?"

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. He should really watch his words, because now all you were thinking about the fact that you'd 100% let your best friend hit if he asked. But he was talking about how you both have slept together, as in, literally, sharing a bed.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to calm down. "I don't know," you finally answered, your voice quiet. "I just... wasn't expecting this."

He shrugged. "I don't mind. It's easier than you going back to your room, isn't it?"

You hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, pulling the blankets tighter around yourself.

Felix smiled softly at the gesture, shifting closer to you, resting his head on your chest. You blinked, taken aback by the sudden contact, but then relaxed, letting your fingers slide into his hair, taking out the bun he had put in prior.

Felix’s breathing evened out against your chest, warm and steady, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested on your waist. You could feel the weight of him, the way his body molded so easily against yours, like he belonged there. His hair was soft beneath your fingers as you ran them gently through the strands, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment.

You exhaled softly, staring up at the ceiling.

Tomorrow. You would tell him tomorrow.

The thought settled into your bones, a mix of nerves and certainty twisting in your stomach. No more dancing around it, no more overthinking. You were going to tell Felix how you felt.

With that thought, your eyes grew heavier, and soon enough, sleep pulled you under.

-

The next morning, the soft glow of early sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting gentle rays across Felix’s face. You blinked blearily, still groggy with sleep, only to find him nestled against you, his lips slightly parted, his hair a tousled mess against the pillow.

He looked so soft like this. So precious.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss to his temple. He stirred slightly, his fingers curling against the fabric of your shirt, but he didn’t wake.

A warm feeling bloomed in your chest, but then-

Your eyes caught the time on the clock.

Panic jolted through you.

You quickly and carefully slipped out of bed, pulling your pants back on as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Felix let out a soft, sleepy sigh behind you, but you forced yourself to ignore the urge to crawl back under the covers with him.

Instead, you quietly crept out of his room, shutting the door softly behind you.

As soon as you turned around, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

Jeongin was standing right there, looking like he hadn’t slept a single minute. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles under them so prominent that you wondered if he had even blinked since last night.

“…What the hell?” you muttered, still groggy.

Jeongin stared at you, dead serious.

“I swear to god, I heard a ghost last night.”

You blinked. “…What?”

He ran a hand down his face, shuddering. “I couldn’t sleep. I was lying in bed, trying, right? But then I heard this… this noise.” His eyes darkened as he dropped his voice to a whisper. “Like a ghost moaning in pain.”

Your stomach dropped.

Oh. My god.

You suddenly wished you had stayed in Felix’s room.

Jeongin continued, oblivious to the way your face was quickly heating up. “It was awful. Like, I don’t know how to describe it, but it was this long, drawn-out, breathy sound, and I swear it came from somewhere in the dorm. I kept thinking, ‘what if it’s a spirit trying to communicate?’”

You cleared your throat, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Aha. That’s, um. That’s wild.”

Jeongin groaned, rubbing his temples. “I had to turn the lights on, man. I couldn’t deal with the dark anymore.”

You swallowed hard, nodding way too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that.”

Jeongin squinted at you, suspicion written all over his face. “Wait… where were you last night?”

Your stomach flipped.

“Nowhere!” you blurted, way too quickly. “I was just- um…”

Jeongin’s eyes narrowed further, his gaze dragging over your disheveled state, your rumpled clothes, your messy hair, the clear signs that you had definitely just rolled out of someone’s bed.

Before you could scramble for a better excuse, the door behind you creaked open.

Felix stumbled out, looking just as exhausted as Jeongin, his hair a fluffy, unkempt mess. His pajama shirt was slightly askew, his eyes puffy with sleep as he rubbed at them sluggishly. He barely registered the two of you before stopping dead in his tracks.

His gaze landed on you first, then darted to Jeongin, then back to you.

And then-

His entire face turned bright red.

Oh. Oh, he just realized what this looked like.

You, standing outside his room, fresh out of bed.

Him, still in pajamas, barely awake.

At eleven in the morning.

Jeongin sighed suddenly, covering his face with his hands.

“Thank god,” he mumbled, voice muffled. “You guys heard the ghost too.”

You nearly choked.

Felix’s wide eyes flickered to you in utter confusion. You could only stare back, mirroring the same 'what the hell is he talking about?' expression.

Jeongin peeked between his fingers. “Wasn’t it awful? Like, so awful you couldn’t sleep alone?”

Your soul left your body.

You cleared your throat, forcing a stiff nod. “Yeah. So awful.”

Felix nodded so fast you were afraid he might hurt himself. “Terrible,” he added weakly.

Jeongin let out a deep sigh of relief. “Finally, someone who understands.” He shook his head. “I told Channie-hyung, but he just laughed at me. Like, what kind of reaction is that?”

Felix swallowed hard, visibly trying to keep it together. “I- I’ll make breakfast,” he blurted out suddenly. “For everyone. Just… give me a minute.”

And then, before anyone could say another word, he spun on his heel and fled back into his room, shutting the door a little too quickly behind him.

You exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down your face, realizing that you were never going to be able to walk around your apartment in peace again.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

tags for beauties : @loverbangchan, @reignessance, @imperfectlyperfectprincess1, @armystay89, @ihrtlix, @lovestaysblogs, @jeyelleohe, @celebration88, @velvetmoonlght, @honeyybbuubblleess, @st4rv3lly

[thezombieprostitute]

Don't Move

Based on this post. Entirely written on my phone.

Warnings: Smut. Please let me know if I missed any.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

It's been a rough day. It feels like every five minutes someone else was complaining to you about something you had no control over. Acting like your inability to help was a personal choice. It was frustrating and you were ready to pull your hair out.

Your main consolation was that the day had to end at some point. While you didn't relish the multiple flights of stairs you had to climb, at least you weren't at work.

You open the door to your apartment and stop short when you see your boyfriend, Bucky, sitting naked on the couch with his legs spread.

"Oh, hi Doll," he smiles. "Worked up a sweat cooking dinner and decided to take a shower. I'll go get dressed so we can eat."

"Stop!" you order. "Don't you dare move." You step inside and close the door, eyes not leaving his form.

"Doll?" Bucky's adams apple bobs as he registers the hunger in the gaze.

"Arms on the back of the couch," you instruct as you take off your shoes. "And keep them there until I tell you otherwise."

Watching Bucky's thick cock harden as you got closer made you feel good. Powerful. Needed.

"Feel free to say anything," you tell him as you kneel in front of him. He gasps as you put your hands on his muscly thighs. "But no touching."

"Doll?" Bucky whimpers and it sounds like music to your ears.

You start by kissing his thighs, gently squeezing from time to time. You slowly work your way closer to his erection. You give a lick, smiling at the whimper you get in response.

"Please, Doll. Please."

He starts to lift his hips to bring your lips closer to where he needs them but push yourself away.

"Don't move," you order.

He settles with a slight pout and hungry eyes. "Fuck you're gorgeous."

"Thank you," you smile. "But no more interruptions."

"Yes, ma'am," he groans. "But don't blame me if my arm breaks the couch."

You smirk as he hisses through his teeth when you gently bite his thigh. You go back to alternating kissing and licking up his thighs.

When you reach his balls you give them a playful kiss before fondling them. Bucky groans heavily and you think you hear the back of the couch creak.

You kiss your way up to the tip of his cock and lazily lick the precum off. You giggle as the back of the couch starts cracking.

"Please, please, please," Bucky grunts. His eyes are burning with desire for you, his muscles straining with the effort to not move.

You swirl your tongue as you take the tip of his cock into your mouth. Bucky's hips start to move but he stops himself with a moan and more sounds from the couch. It really won't survive this but right now you don't care. You're in charge.

Bucky's please become breathier, his eyes begging you for mercy. He throws his head back as you slowly push more of his erection down your throat.

You feel yourself getting wet knowing that this huge, strong Adonis of a man is bowing to your will. Knowing that this man who could easily throw you over his shoulder is obeying your orders. You feel powerful.

Using your other hand to stroke his shaft you work more and more of him down your throat until you're choking on him. You let yourself breathe but you don't stop. Not when you can feel Bucky vibrating from how close he is. His chanting of "please" has become faster, more desperate.

Then you stop. Bucky let's out the most pitiful while you've ever heard from him. He gives you a pained look and you smile.

Leaning in close to him you whisper, "now fuck me like you want to."

Bucky's whimpers turn into growls as he gets off the couch and moves you against the wall. He strips your pants and tears off your panties. No doubt he's smelled how wet you've gotten from having him in your mouth.

He lifts you by the hips and thrusts up into you as a brutal place making you cry out. Normally Bucky's very good about prepping you but sometimes you just need to get fucked like a plaything and he's more than happy to oblige.

"Got me so worked up I need to cum now," he grunts. "But I also need to feel you milking my cock like the good slut you are."

His metal fingers move between your bodies. You'll never get over how strong your super soldier is. The cold of his fingers shocks your clit and you keen.

"That's it, Doll. That's it. Give me what I need."

Your body is quick to yield to him and you cum with a loud yell, Bucky following soon after.

He carries you to the couch and lays down with you on top of him as you both catch your breath.

"Thank you, Bucky. I really needed that."

He chuckles, "me too, apparently," before kissing the top of your head.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Tagging: @alicedopey ; @darsynia ; @delicatebarness ; @icefrozendeadlyqueen ; @irishhappiness ; @kmc1989 ; @lokislady82 ; @ronearoundblindly ; @stellar-solar-flare

[keferon]

Part 2 of Jazz and Prowl in space!

Gonna start calling it Odds of Survival.

Prowl loves entrusting his life to reckless strangers.

———————————————————————

Prowl pulled the release to the airlock and the music was swallowed by the vacuum of space.

Bursting forward, Jazz launched outwards riding the pop of escaping air. The first quintesson had its eye socket repurposed as an ankle bracelet before the second measure even began.

Ah.

Prowl probably should have specified he wanted to try speeding past rather than confront their opponents directly.

Jazz's improvised footwear writhed sluggishly before the mech twisted his ped inside its brain case, finishing it off and turning to face the next nearest opponent.

Odds of survival 26%

The white and blue mech launched himself upwards as the nearest quintesson went for a dive bomb. It's teeth breaking on impact with the sky bridge. Jazz twisted in midair.

They fell in slow motion, back arching against a starlit backdrop. An upside down visor met blue optics. Jazz nodded his head to the side, flicking one horn up and one horn down.

Did he just wink? (#^%)

The falling mech unsheathed a blade from his wrist, driving it through the sputtering quintesson.

Oh Primus has he been flirting the entire time?

Jazz spun, slicing into the next quint to close the distance.

I can not. I can not assume that was intentional. It has to be a cultural miscommunication.

The last two quintessons pounced. Swinging hard, Jazz caught one's jaws with a forearm while he kicked the downed another in the side of the head. The third was attempting to bite into his back but the teeth couldn't get a full purchase on the rounded compact plating.

Odds of survival 22%.

Prowl snapped out of his social etiquette downward spiral. Sprinting from the safety of the airlock door, he knelt behind a large section of external piping, lining up his shots.

Tacnet spun to work.

It was designed to calculate hundreds of possible variations of large scale engagements, including the number of soldiers, type of weaponry available and could even determine the approximate number of ammunitions that would be left over, provided Prowl had enough data at his disposal.

Calculating the marksmanship needed to dispatch three hostiles at medium range while distracted by a highly competent ally?

Odds of Survival 32%

Laughable.

Three shots burst through the thin atmosphere.

Quintesson wreckers were built thick skulled and stubborn. Luckily they came with easily identifiable gaps in their organic construction.

The Quints fell from Jazz, each with a smoking hole where and eye used to be. Jazz looked at Prowl, then the smoking quintessons and back up to Prowl before doing finger guns again.

Speaking of thick skulled and stubborn.

Prowl put on his best Commanders Scowl and pointed in the direction they needed to be currently running in.

Doorwing sensors hiked as he picked up on movement from behind. The incoming hostiles was palpable even in the moons thin atmosphere. Quintessons rarely favored stealth.

Prowl began running.

Jazz kept pace, half turned around to keep track of the incoming troop. Prowl kept his optics locked forward, not remotely willing to risk tripping on the torn apart path.

Tacnet locked on to a large silvery pillow that'd been exposed to the atmosphere.

Expanding LLX Lithium battery. Explosion on contact 90%

Prowl shouted a warning but the air was too thin to carry beyond his own audials.

Jazz will step on the lithium battery in 1.5 clicks (88%) and will be critically injured in at least one leg (76%).

Prowl grabbed Jazz's servo and yanked.

Music erupted in the moment of connection.

Vibrations ran up his arm and across his frame. Inside his audials, Prowl could make out the song Jazz had begun in the airlock. Looking at his visor, mouth agape, only one thought could form in Prowls mind.

How fragging loud is he playing that music?!?

Jazz perked up, and pulled Prowl around in an arc. Multiple sharp impacts thudded into the ground behind him. Prowl turned and almost wished he hadn’t.

Three heavily armored Quintesson bombers equipped with bio-mechanical ballista.

The javelin like spikes were as long as Prowls arm and designed to pin targets in place while the slow moving blimp-like body of the bomber got into position to blow them all to the Pit.

Prowl tugged Jazz in the direction of their objective, refusing to let go in case he tried to launch himself at the bombers. Prowl wasn't sure how Jazz would manage to do so, but Prowl felt an overwhelming nagging sensation in his tanks that he'd fragging try.

Jazz was evidently fine with this arrangement.

As the music pulsed between their palms, Jazz leapt at a diagonal, pulling Prowl along for the ride. The low gravity was so damn floaty. It continually forced Prowl to readjust his footing so he wasn't frantically treading air every time his peds left the ground.

Jazz was evidently fine with that too.

Another round of ammunitions impacted where the two of them had been running.

Their egress began to take on a pattern Prowl was quick to pick up on. It took the bombers 8 clicks to reload, launching at the same time, half a click after musical flair in Jazz's song. At the moment of the flair, the mech would launch them in a nearly unpredictable pattern. After the first two times of nearly getting his arm dislocated, Prowl began catching onto these moments and moved his momentum in sync with Jazz.

They'd started dancing.

The Tactician had an iron fisted focus on matching Jazz’s frankly eradicate lead. The longer the duet continued, the more data he had to work with. Prowl steadily progressed from Reacting to Anticipating. Feeling a core deep satisfaction that came from sinking into mastering a new skill.

By the time they’d escaped the bombers range, they’d made it too the base of the first hurdle.

Their reprieve would only be brief. The bombers would catch up in approximately 50 clicks (88%), giving the mechs a small window of precious semi-safety in which they needed to scale the wall before them.

Prowl craned his helm back at the barrier.

He would not be able to scale it on his own in time (95%).

Could Jazz? (65%)

While carrying him? (19%)

Jazz rapidly tapped his side.

The alien was crouched low, impossible legs bent with potential energy. He tapped his own back, gesturing for Prowl to grab on already.

Prowl threw himself over the mechs broad back. His digits frantically searched for a hand hold, flinching away from nearly digging into fragile vents.

I can’t-

Jazz leapt.

“You’re really grab-able - Isn’t that kinda stupid?”

Stupid stupid stupid.

Prowl skated off of Jazz’s rounded compact plating, that he specifically SAID was supposed to make him hard to hold on to.

He landed hard on his aft, denta clanking together painfully.

47 clicks remaining.

Jazz hit the ground beside him before Prowl had fully gotten back up. Now facing him, Jazz grabbed Prowl by both wrists and pulled him chassis to chassis. Jazz positioned his arms to link Prowls servos behind his helm, then set his own servos tightly onto Prowls waist.

Jazz nodded once, like he was satisfied with what he’d just done.

Prowl made a facial expression that a psychiatrist would find concerning.

42 Clicks.

Jazz nodded again, like expected Prowl to respond in any coherent manner, and lifted.

Prowls legs swung forward on instinct. Following the motion, Jazz wrapped them around his waist. Through the screaming haze of his processor, Prowl had the presence of mind to lock his ankles together as he realized Jazz’s true intentions, and manually aborted the logic cascade that had nearly crashed over him.

Package secured, Jazz let go and started their ascension.

Legs bent at an impossible angle to slam multi segmented peds flat against the metal walls. Despite Prowl’s body blocking most of his view, the alien mech was unfettered by the lack of vision. Jazz hardly bothered with proper hand holds, instead opting for incredibly strong magnetic grip built into his servos.

The magnetic backwash splashed over Prowls doors wings, forcing him to temporarily offline them or risk crippling vertigo. The structure they were scaling shook violently like something large had just irrevocably broken.

This is fine this is fine this is fine this is fine.

At 35 click’s remaining, Prowl centered himself enough to search for their pursuers.

Damn it!

The bombers were a fraction faster than he initially calculated. Six clicks before we’re in range (87%). Luckily, Jazz was more than a fraction faster than initially calculated as well. At this rate, they’d reach the top simultaneously.

No reason not to be proactive.

Prowl found that if he tightly cupped one servo around the back of Jazz’s helm, he had just enough leverage to bring out a side arm. After all, the bombers were already in range of him.

Steadying his elbow over the other mechs shoulder, Prowl took aim.

Five clicks.

The bombers flew in V formation.

Four clicks.

Too heavily armored for a standard sidearm to pierce.

Three clicks.

The lead bomber opened up its front in preparation for combat.

Got you.

Prowl threaded the gap, his shot skirting over the ballista in favor of impacting the bombers prodigious cargo. He watched something spark inside a split second before it succumbed to total annihilation.

The shockwave felt like a single soft papft of a breeze in the starlit air.

Jazz hefted them over the top of the wall, not dropping Prowl in favor of sprinting with him at full speed across the top of the hurdle.

One of his arms curled around to support Prowls back, allowing the Praxian to release his death grip on their helm. Prowl leaned back into the hold, allowing Jazz freedom to see again.

Jazz turned his helm around 180 degrees-

Did not know he could do that did not know he could do that.

- to look at the fire works behind them.

Jazz whistled appreciatively at the sight. He turned back to Prowl, visor locked onto his face as they carried him across the roof.

Reverberating music, nearly crashing, numbed doorwings, and a deeply satisfying kill all followed by a display of casual body horror was making Prowl just a little bit delirious. As a result, Prowl wasn’t entirely sure what expression he was making, just that Jazz was inordinately fascinated with it.

Without looking away, Jazz leapt off the end of the roof.

Prowl watched as Jazz glanced over his shoulder and back to him.

Do a double take.

And then crush Prowl to his chassis.

Jazz’s visor was over bright, both horns snapped completely forward and from somewhere inside his chassis, Prowl could feel some internal component spinning into overdrive, sounding for all the world like teeny tiny screaming.

Why are we still falling.

Prowl turned as far as possible in Jazz’s iron grip.

The sky bridge was collapsing.

Odds of Survival 4%

———————————————————————

Jazz, everytime Prowl one-shots an enemy: I need to get his number.

If you’re curious, the song Jazz is playing can be whatever you like. Personally I kept switching between listening to “I Was Made For Lovin’ You” by Kiss and “I Feel Love” 12” version by Donna Summer while writing.

- SSTP

OH GOD AHAHJFKFK THIS IS SO FUCKING GREAT HELP

And the concept of music playing between them??? I'm s o l d. "I was made for lovin' you baby" is basically JP OST for me at this point ehehhmgmgm

Jazz: Hookay I need to transport the machinery from the point A to point B. Focus! Let's go!

Prowl: One of those tiktok videos where you can see some Reddit post and hear AI narrating it while Minecraft parkour is playing on the background. Except it's gay panic instead of reddit post and internal screaming instead of narration and even more gay panic instead of minecraft. ......and everything is overheating probably lmao

Also can you really call it a JP fic if their odds of survival never dropped lower than 10% according to Prowls brain? Ahahjgkgk all amazing JP fics have to do this. It's inevitable and I love it so much~~

[raekensluver]

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟷𝟺 — ᴅᴇsᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

october 27th | fred weasley x fem!reader

contains: nsfw 18+, no use of y/n, fingering, begging, multiple orgasms, fred's a little out of character, porn without plot.

word count: 1.1k

kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

"fred, please," you gasped, your voice breathless and whiny. "i need you."

fred's eyes darkened with desire as he looked down at you, your body trembling beneath his touch. his hand trailed down your side, leaving a fiery path in its wake. "what do you need, love?" he murmured, his voice low and gruff.

you couldn't form coherent words, only whimpers and pleas. i need you to… make me cum," you finally managed, your cheeks flushing red with embarrassment and want.

fred's grin grew wolfish as he took in the sight of you. "you're so eager," he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. he leaned down to kiss your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just hard enough to make you gasp. "what's got you so worked up?"

you arched into his touch, your nails digging into his back. "you," you moaned, your voice thick with need. "always you."

fred chuckled against your skin, his breath warm and tickling. he traced his lips along your collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses that made your heart race even faster. "you know i'll give you what you want," he whispered, his hand sliding up to cup your breast. his thumb flicked over your nipple, making you moan and squirm.

his other hand traveled down between your thighs, his fingers finding their way to your soaking wet entrance. he teased the sensitive skin around it, watching the way your eyes rolled back with every touch. "so wet," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "you really do want it, don't you?"

you nodded frantically, your hips bucking up to meet his hand. "yes," you whined, your voice barely above a whisper. "please, fred."

his fingers slid inside of you with ease, and you felt your muscles clench around them as if trying to hold on. your nails scraped down his back, leaving red marks as you bit your bottom lip to keep from screaming. "that's it," he encouraged, his own breathing growing heavier. "let me hear how much you want me."

you couldn't help the whines that escaped your throat, each one sounding more pitchy than the last. your hips rolled in time with his strokes, and you could feel your climax building, like a storm waiting to break. your eyes remained locked on his, the brown of his irises seemingly burning into yours as he watched your reactions with hungry intensity.

"more," you begged, your voice hoarse and needy. fred's grin grew wider as he added another finger, curling them inside you in a way that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body. you felt yourself tighten around him, and he responded by pumping them in and out in a steady rhythm that had you on the edge.

his thumb found your clit and began to rub slow circles, his touch feather-light yet so intense it was almost painful. your hips bucked upwards, trying to get more friction, more everything. "right there," you whispered, your eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy. fred's chuckle was the only response, his movements never faltering, his fingers never leaving your most sensitive spots.

suddenly, you felt the pressure building, your orgasm rising like a tidal wave. "i'm gonna…" you moaned, your voice trailing off as you tried to hold onto the sensation. fred's grip on your hip tightened, his other hand squeezing your breast as he whispered, "let go, love. i've got you."

with a keening cry, you did. your body shuddered and arched off the bed, your muscles spasming around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. fred didn't stop, his movements relentless, pushing you further into the abyss of pleasure until you were a trembling, boneless mess beneath him.

"please," you gasped, your voice a needy whine. "please, fred, i can't…" but you could, and you did. again and again, your orgasms rolling into one endless crescendo of ecstasy. his name was a chant on your lips, a prayer to the gods of desire that he never stop.

his fingers were relentless, driving into you, curling and stroking until you thought you would lose your mind. your nails dug into his shoulders, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, trying to hold on to him as if he were a lifeline in a storm. your eyes squeezed shut, you felt the room spin, and all that existed was the heat of his body, the pressure of his touch.

"more," you begged, your voice barely audible, your throat raw from the constant stream of pleas. "please, fred, more." your desperation was palpable, a living entity in the room that seemed to feed off the tension coiled within you.

without a word, fred's fingers curled inside you, finding that spot that made your toes curl and your back arch off the bed. his thumb pressed harder on your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that had your entire body tightening like a coil ready to spring. "yes," you hissed, your eyes flying open to meet his, the pupils blown wide with pleasure. "right there," you whispered, your voice a pleading mantra.

his free hand slid up your body to cradle your face, his thumb brushing the wetness from your cheek. "you're so beautiful when you cum," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. "so fucking beautiful." his words were a gentle caress against the chaos of sensations overwhelming you.

you couldn't help but whimper at the praise, your chest heaving with the effort of breathing. your eyes searched his, looking for a sign that he was as lost in this as you were. his gaze was dark and intense, his pupils blown wide with need. "please," you begged, your voice hoarse from the screams you hadn't realized you'd been letting out.

fred leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving deep, mimicking the rhythm of his fingers inside you. you moaned into his mouth, your tongue dancing with his as you felt yourself building towards another peak. your hips rocked up to meet his hand, desperation fueling your movements.

his thumb moved faster on your clit, the pressure increasing until you felt yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion once more. you clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "i'm close," you murmured against his lips, your voice barely recognizable.

his response was to plunge his fingers deeper, his thumb never ceasing its merciless onslaught. your muscles tightened around him, your body coiling tighter and tighter until suddenly, you shattered. your back bowed off the bed and your legs spasmed as you broke apart from him. the orgasm was a white-hot burst of pleasure that seemed to go on forever, consuming every inch of you, leaving you boneless and trembling.

when the waves of pleasure finally subsided, you lay there, panting and weak, your eyes half-closed and your body slack. fred's hand was still between your legs, his fingers gently stroking your sensitive flesh, his thumb resting lightly on your clit, sending little aftershocks of pleasure through you. he kissed you deeply, his tongue dancing with yours, his breath mingling with your own.

kintober taglist: @multi-fandom-imagine, @imamexican, @majaduzejaja, @moony-artemis, @emma-e-a, @agoodgirlsguidetomakingmencry @indigoangel77, @froyofreya, @weirdothatwritess @dale-kobbles-wife @mattheoriddles-slutt @aduh0308

[screampied]

‘ LOVE ME, LOVE ME [NOT] ! ’

ᡴꪫ‎ synopsis. on your life, you swore you hated him. that stupid smirk that curled against his lips, you loathed toji fushiguro. but how does a single kiss change that? is this hatred you feel—or is it romantic denial?

wc. 8.4k

warnings. fem! reader, arranged marriage au, slow burn (?), sharing one bed, unrequited love, degradation, praise, edging, size difference, fingering, semi public, implied multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, impact play.

“ya just gonna stand there or,” toji raises a brow, and you gave him the biggest glare imaginable. it was late at night, about a quarter past eleven and you were exhausted.

you had a long day, and the last thing you’d wanna come back home to was a guy on your bed. toji was sprawled all out, stretched all over your side of the bed, and he gives you a teasing grin. “so y’er the brat i’m supposed to marry.”

“you’re not sleeping here.” you grouse, making an attempt to shove him but it gets literally nowhere. toji stays put, glancing up at you and his facial expression was purely amused.

he hums. “oh? says who?”

“says me. now move before i—,” you chastise, crawling into the bed to move him before with quick reflexes, he gets ahold of you — and stupidly, you fall right into his chest, a sudden oof sound departing from your lips before he snickers.

“now we’re both scared, princess,” toji rolls his eyes, and you’re all propped up against his chest. he was so warm, and oh how he smelled so good..

toji’s got the biggest smirk on his lips as you’re awkwardly laid on his lap. the both of you share an intense gaze that felt like forever - and once he finally breaks the silence, he mutters, “quite a brat but i gotta admit, y’er real pretty up close.”

you shift your eyes away, and you let off a soft gasp once a hand of his brushes against your waist. toji continued to speak, and his tone was a bit more pitchy and stern. “glare all ya want dollface, ‘m not moving.”

“fucking bastard..” you grumbled underneath your breath, crawling off from his lap before he pulled you back into him. 

“who’s gonna marry this bastard though,” and then he clicks his tongue, adding a snarky, “uh huh. exactly. but at least come up with better insults than that,” and it’s a long awkward pause. toji finally looks up at you again, his tantalizing grin fading before darkened irises of his lock onto yours.

it was intimate.

the eye contact was, strangely sensual… you wanted to know more about this man. 

you’ve heard countless stories, especially the ones where he was known for being notorious but you’ve always pondered. out of any random guy, you got paired up to be betrothed to the infamous toji fushiguro. 

he ends the silence with … a deep kiss. 

everything moved at such a speed, you didn’t even realize you were kissing him until you felt his tongue run down yours. he had such a flavor, your eyes briefly closed, returning the gesture and he cups yours face. a low grunt could be heard from him, and despite it being seconds…toji was definitely addicted to your sweetened taste. 

it took you a long moment before you pull away, strands of spit departing and you stutter out a timid, “w-what was that for?”

“why’d you kiss back?” he eyes you down, and he brings a thumb up to your lips, swiping against it and it was unintentionally sexy—toji stares down at your lips, as if he wanted to kiss you again, but his eyes then flicker back up towards you. “if we’re gonna be tied together, you should know how to kiss,” only to then he replies with a sassy, “…you could use some work though.”

“…shut up,” you groused, a cute pout forming on your lips as you scoot away to shove a pillow at him. “whatever. i’m going to bed. we have stupid rehearsal tomorrow.”

toji runs a hand through his hair as he snickers, watching your frustrated obvious embarrassed state. you reach to turn off the lamp, getting comfortable underneath the fat silk covers. 

“aren’t ya gonna ask for a goodnight kiss?”

“fuck you, toji.”

“heh. one day, girl.”

with furrowed eyebrows, you didn’t get what he meant, and once you did—you were glad it was pitch dark so he couldn’t see your visible abashed expression. 

momentarily, the two of you ended up sleeping. you’re all the way on the other side of the bed, yet due to toji being a rough sleeper apparently, he finds himself getting close to you.

regardless of being crazy in bed whilst in a deep slumber, he surprisingly didn’t snore. 

you found yourself tucked right in his strong arms. you felt safe—secure. leaning into his warmth, you suddenly feel a cold sweat wash over you. 

beat after beat, your heart raced and what your mind processed. it felt so surreal.

you felt a mixture of both, hot…cold…. a plethora of feelings. 

once your eyes shot open, your first reaction was to wake up toji. of course, you’d ignore your feelings and go back to sleep. but something deep inside you was telling you, you need him. 

“wha—” he grumbles, his tone was hoarse due to him waking up abruptly, it was around probably three thirty in the morning. he was about to reply with a usual teasing remark before he spots you, hovering over him with tears stinging in your eyes. “hey. hey…what’s the uh… matter?”

his tone suddenly went tender, you stare at toji, observing his face with blurred eyes from the tears. your eyes met towards his relaxed face, his perfectly structured chin, even his slanted scar that ran across a part of his lip. 

“i— it was…” you sniffle, but for some reason, the words got trapped into your throat. sealed, preventing you from muttering another word. 

“shh…it’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeats, bringing you close towards his chest. you tried to relax within his grip, he’s so gentle and drags a hand down your back soothingly. “easy, girl. i’m…here.”

judging from the continuous pauses in toji’s tone, you could tell he didn’t know what to say — what to do, but he knew he had to at least hold you.

you felt insanely vulnerable, all to a man you’ve only known for maybe what…a few hours. 

his voice, it was relaxing and soft, despite its roughness. the rhythm his hand had, stroking back and forth against your back, you let off a low sigh. his cologne wafts against your nose before you slowly look up at toji, and he’s already staring at you. 

“…you good?” he mutters, an eyebrow slightly raising. 

“y-yeah,” you mumble, a tiny pout glossing on your lips again. it was cute — he was about to comment on it, yet you watch him start to shift away. you wrap your arms around his waist, briefly doing a head shake. “stay still, toji.”

“ooh. first name basis now?” he hums, fully complying with your request. his thumb lightly grazes near your back before you feel his chest jerk a bit from a chortle. “but okay, we can stay like this princess.”

you felt your face get hot at the pet name, why—?

just him calling you ‘princess’ was enough to make you feel such intensity. he brushes a hand back and forth swiftly. it was tender, you let off a soft sigh, any signs of nervousness leaving you completely. 

“…don’t call me that.” you grumbled, your eyes shifted up at him and he rolls his eyes. 

“and yet y’er still talking,” he chastised, this time a pout forming on his lips, it was cute.

the way the scar that ran across the edge of his mouth tugged together solely from the movements of his facial expressions.

toji catches you staring at him before he breathes out, “i don’t even get a thank you,” he nudges you, an attempt to lighten the mood—to perhaps earn out a smile out of you, and that he did. “get some sleep though, brat. got me hugging you, tch.”

it was a drag. reality coming to you that not only had you have to marry this man, but you had to live with him also..

multiple days passed, the two of you practically pretended each other didn’t exist.

toji was almost always working . .

albeit, he’s never told you specifically what his occupation was.

you knew he was a feared man—for whatever strange reason, but you decided to not comment on it. perhaps that was a good thing. 

sooner rather than later, your wedding date was approaching. everything felt like it was going at a rapid speed.

toji was, well . . . a private man to say the least. you tried to get to know him, but he was like an empty canvas. there was something he didn’t want to tell you. 

ex-wife, ex-girlfriend..? 

you couldn’t help but ponder. sure, he was an attractive man. quite very much easy on the eyes. such striking features, heavily intimidating. if only he didn’t have such a huge ego. he was practically insufferable to live with. the two of you were total opposites in terms of personality. 

he’d often tease you every chance he got, poking fun at you for even the smallest things. 

“…wow,” toji muttered, leaning back against his chair. the moment you stepped into the room in nothing but a pretty silk dress, his eyes roamed and roamed. 

it was a pretty long a-line dress. it was perfectly sewn on, hugging your curves tightly, the sash that ran across your waist. toji for once was speechless, his eyes lingered towards your entire frame. your figure—it was forever gorgeous in his eyes. for a moment, you saw a sudden look in his irises, as if he’s been in this moment before. 

he has. judging from his past, but you didn’t know that. 

toji dismisses a sudden flashback before focusing his attention back towards you, standing up from his chair, uttering a, “c’mere. i wanna get a closer look.”

“was that a good wow or a bad wow?” you puff out, sliding your feet across the floor towards him. you swallow to yourself, can’t help but feel a certain butterfly stir up inside you.

toji’s eyes were on you the entire time. his eyes linger down your body and seeing how the way it fit perfectly before he mutters. 

“it’s whatever you want it to be, princess.”

“why can’t you just reply like a normal person?” you furrow your eyebrows—visibly trying to hide your embarrassment.

toji snickers. “you look gorgeous,” and he looks as if he wants to touch you, but he halts, tugging on his tie before trying to maintain a neutral gaze. “is this the one?”

“yeah,” you mutter, and that’s when for a brief moment. the two of you just stand there. toji’s hands were buried in his pockets, and he’s got that annoying simper resting on his face.

this man.

it was as if his irises were a mystery — pools of complete mystery. you could never read him. 

toji brings a hand towards your face, and he strokes your chin with the pad of his thumb. “you know,” he starts in a rough voice, feeling how claustrophobic it almost was . . the two of you cramped up in a dressing room like this, you tried to dismiss any dirty thoughts. “i keep noticing how bad you are at eye contact, princess. you have a habit of staring at my lips instead of my eyes. 

“…shut up.” you mumble, practically leaning into his touch despite your stubbornness. he smiles, derisively raising a brow. 

“if ya want another kiss from y’er husband, just say that.” toji murmurs, his strokes went towards your lips. he’s the one who looks at your lips this time, almost witnessing the whine that was about to leave your mouth. 

it suddenly felt hot . . . scorching. 

the gaze he had on you, such a meaningless yet seductive look. as if he was forevermore captivated by your beauty, and in this case he was.

“…toji,” was all you let out, a soft pout going against your glossed lips. he looked so handsome up close. darkened strands of hair that ran down his eyes briefly, it was ruffled. 

you loathed feeling like this, that stare he gave you. it started to make you feel a certain type of way, between your legs.

“yeahh?” he slyly remarks, leaning up close. just inches apart, he was so close to kissing you. you smelled mint with a slight tang of alcohol run on his breath, he knew what he was doing. “needy girl. look at that pout, so cute.”

“kiss me, toji.” you breathe, not even intending to sound so whiny.

it killed you, seeing how desperate you were for another one of his kisses. you craved it though. the way whenever his lips would hit against yours, it felt you were the only person in the world. he knew that’d be the only way to shut you up. 

“look at you using your words,” he hums, sliding his thumb against your bottom lip for a final time. toji then leans in, tilting your chin a bit and his lips gently press against yours.

your lashes fluttered, feeling a certain feeling stir up inside you. you couldn’t describe it . . . again, this man. 

you made it known to yourself that you wouldn’t get like this for anyone. feel this …. weak. yet with toji, he had you wrapped around his finger. 

it was that easy. 

just from a kiss. 

a stupid kiss. 

toji grips your chin, and you move back until you’re pinned against the wall. the pure feeling of the cold mirror frame skimming against your back. 

toji grunts in your mouth, his tongue colliding against yours throughout each second. his hands started to roam up your body, as if he was waiting to touch on you.

graze his fingers down every inch of your pretty physique. you moan, feeling a rough hand of his slowly lift your leg up. 

the soft fabric of your dress ruffles against his thigh, and your leg ends up wrapping around him.

he chuckles, deepening the kiss, you felt the very edge of his scar tickle against you. “fuck, y’er something else,” he says between kisses, and he feels you tugging on his tie. 

in the background played some catchy tune — a random popular song, you felt the warmth of toji’s body grind against you.

so incredibly good, the tips of your ears started to heat up. his hand trails lower and lower until your breath hitched, feeling the tips of his fingers dance against your skin.

“you do realize we’re in public, right sweetheart?” toji whispers, breaking his lips away to kiss near your neck. he smelled intoxicating, a perfect mixture of cologne—surprisingly not a cheap kind. it smelled worth a hefty value, and it made you gnaw on your lip. “are you-”

“you talk too much,” you chastise, grabbing onto his wrist. he snickers, watching you take a hold of his grip. you drag his hand between your legs, letting off a puff. “i just—i don’t care. i want you to touch me. you— you tease me all day, ‘n i- i just want—”

toji stares at you, you’re still making his hand go down until it’s right between your thighs. raising up your dress that wasn’t paid for, his fingers brush against your panties. “…oh,” he purrs, arched brows pressing together. “you’re kinky. but okay, if my pretty wife wants me to touch her, then i’ll touch her.”

“i’m…not your wife, idiot.” you pant. 

“don’t worry, girl. you will be,” he mumbles, bringing his lips towards the side of your neck.

he sinks his teeth gently, nipping at the sensitive skin to hear you moan.

you were so close to him—the way his touch sent you into a complete frenzy. toji slides your panties to the side, and you let off a whine, feeling him feel the slickness that stuck against your folds. “aw. were you wet this entire time we were out?”

you felt your face heat up. oh, you were extremely embarrassed. 

he had you like this, soaking wet. you couldn’t even explain why. this man had you like this… so feral. 

to think you were gonna walk down the aisle with him pretty soon. at this particular point, you didn’t care about feelings. by now, you weren’t even sure of what you felt towards toji. you just knew that you wanted him to touch you. 

“so impatient,” toji murmurs, making you lean back against the wall. he was such a tease, staring daggers, sexual daggers right at you.

toji stares as you tug on his pants, you don’t even know what came of you—it was as if your body craved him. “we just had one more store, princess. you couldn’t wait?”

“…toji,” you’d pout. pulling on the thin fabric of his tuxedo. he looked so handsome. you only started to imagine what he’d look like once the two of you officially got hitched. he raises his brows, leaning towards you before you gasp once he brushes a finger towards your exposed clit. “i- i can’t fucking wait anymore. please, just—”

“watch that mouth of yours,” toji sneers, and he cuts you off with a deep kiss. 

you moan, feeling entirely hot once he slowly inserts a finger inside. “nasty girl. walkin’ around this wet,” he’d grumble, your arms went over his neck as you bit your lip. “easy. relax, thereeee we go. good girl,” and his praises went straight towards your cunt.

he had such a way with words, his fingers had quite a length to it not to mention. all throughout, you felt him prod against your walls and you whined for more. “i knew we’d get along.”

“s-shut up.”

“s-shut uppp,” he mocks your tone, a raspy snicker following. he grins at the cute scowl that went on your lips before you mom again. he reached so deep, and then he added another finger inside. toji watched as you glossed lips parted, you were heavily panting. “such a mess down here. just filthy.”

he was so gentle with his strokes—a simple bowling ball grip that made your maw practically drop. it felt so good, gingerly caressing your clit. your chest heaved and heaved, and you started to whimper against his ear. 

he loved whenever you did that. the sweet pitches your voice would make, it was almost melodic.

“f-fuck,” you’d sigh, trying to focus on your breathing patterns. you had to remind yourself the two of you were in public.

in a secluded dressing room.

the circular motions he created made you practically squeeze your plushy thighs together. he was so good with his hands, it made your eyes start to roll back dramatically. “right there, t-toji.”

“squeeze around me so good—wonder how you’d be with me doin’ the real thing, princess.” and the way he’d do that thing, pitching his voice into a husky rasp. it made you feel a surge of tingles coarse all throughout your body. you were essentially hugging him, your unbought dress lazily pulled up. “tell me how’s it feel, talk to me.”

his words… it was so sensual, he goes right up against your ear as he spoke. licking against your earlobe before it turns into brief nibbling. he knew what he was doing, getting you all hot and bothered.  

you swallowed thickly, and he has a perfect tempo. not to fast, not too slow. by this point, both of his fingers that was shoved into your pussy was covered in your sweetened slick. 

“good, f-feels good,” you’d whine out, pant after pant. your breathing became erratic—mind swollen with nothing but filthy thoughts. just the sheer reality of being fingered like this, it made you a little wet. no, it made you incredibly wet. 

toji’s stimulating your clit, his formation was forever euphoric.

it was like a drug, the way you wanted his fingers slid in and out. he purposely grew quiet so you could hear the sloppy squelches your cunt made in retaliation. “listen how she just… talks back, no fuckin’ manners just like you.”

your bottom lip quivered, his dirty talk… 

each word going straight between your thighs. with your back arching, you felt yourself clamp around him, a big squeeze.

it was like with the tips of his fingers, he knew how to reach every crevice, everywhere inside your folds. “the way y’er voice always gets high once i get to this spot. such a sensitive baby.”

curling and curling, toji’s fingers was going in and out of you. by this point, you were completely drenched. he was using his entire wrist, you felt the cold hand of his watch skim against your skin in the process. “i-i’m getting close, toji fuckkk.”

“yeah. bet you are,” he nips at your neck, speeding up his fingers just a bit. you felt dizzy, forevermore trapped in your mind—chasing a powerful incoming orgasm. it was no denying, your legs were just trembling by this point. he knew the anatomy of your pussy perfectly, as if he was skilled in it professionally. “i want you to do somethin’ for me.”

“huh?” you whined, still propped up against the mirror. he’s still trapped with your arms wrapped around his neck, right between your legs just barely. 

toji sneaks a kiss near the inner part of your neck before mumbling, “i want you to make a mess on me. can ya do that?”

as your eyelids droop, becoming lower and lower, you pathetically nod, whimpering out a sweet shaky, “okay, okay.”  

toji felt the texture inside of you…easily stretching your walls a bit with just two slender fingers. his fingers was thick though, your mouth hung open with not even coherent words coming out. just cacophonies of, “toji,” and “f-fuckk,” with many others. 

he kept a gaze on you the entire time, he wasn’t sure by this particular point what he felt towards you. the noises that escaped from your lips, he wanted to hear more of it, maybe even drag out a sweet scream from you. 

“t-toji, ‘s gonna…” you slur out your words, sounding like you were running a marathon.

he maneuvers circles against your clit with two fingers, tickling against your opening and you let off a whimpering, “oh my god, oh my g-godddd.”

“…y’er so loud,” he rasps, leaning in to shut you up with a kiss. it was passionate—a tang of sloppiness to it. his tongue ran against yours, and you felt a coil within you abruptly snap. 

once you orgasm, it was far more than you expected. because you felt even more soaked. you shivered, a muffled orgasm pouring into his lips before toji slows his fingers down. 

pulling away, he’s watching with sly eyes of the stringy cobweb of saliva depart from both lips, he huffs. “girl, did you just squirt on me?”

your nerves, you whimpered once he slide a thumb against your pulsating nub, taking his fingers out to gawk at it. how you effortlessly coated his fingers with your slick. you didn’t reply, you’re in the midst of catching your breath before toji hums.

“yeah. you fuckin’ squirted on me,” he answers his own question, about to lean in for another kiss. yet that’s when the door knocks obnoxiously. 

it’s an older lady, and she’s got quite the vexed voice. “excuse me sir, the store’s closed. can you two please—”

“yeah, yeah we’re coming,” toji rolls his eyes, and you’ve never been more embarrassed.

he peppers a kiss against your forehead before glancing down at your dress with a smirk. “you’ll be a doll and pay for that, right? it’s a little damaged but i'm sure you’ve got that covered, baby.”

cheap bastard. 

it’d always be moments like this between you two. except, the both of you never went all the way. toji liked to take his time with you. he wanted to make you wait—it irked you. 

he was a professional at getting on your nerves, making your eyes roll to the very depths of your skull.

it was like the more time you spent with him, the more you started to feel this … feeling. 

you didn’t know what it was. you couldn’t describe it. all you knew was that it felt weird.

not so much in a weird way, more of a … natural way. you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt like this. 

perhaps calling it love was foolish, then again you hated not being able to describe this feeling. whatever it was. 

toji started to grow attached to you — whether he was too stubborn to realize it or not. 

it would be small things, calling you while he was at work just to tease you, help you get things from the top shelves… feeling him against you, just fantasizing about that made you start to throb. 

preparations for the wedding felt like it was taking centuries — everything had to be perfect.

eventually, you picked out a dress. it fit perfectly, and toji hasn’t seen it yet. 

sooner than you knew it, it was the day of the wedding.

the arranged marriage.

truth be told, you still barely knew the gist of everything. it’s probably been about a good half month before the day eventually comes. the two of you ended up going separately, not together. 

alas, you and toji end up running into each other near the entrance of the venue. 

“toji,” you’d mumble, words being caught way back in your throat.

he was suited up, so handsome. slicked down with a tuxedo. with hands buried in his pockets, his head was slightly tilted down as he gifted you with the same gaze. “we aren’t supposed—we aren’t supposed to see each other before the ceremony,” and your words trail the more he trods towards you. “it gives us bad luck.”

“hey girl,” he murmurs in that familiar rasp. his naturally ruffled hair was slightly slicked back, a few strands poking through. “you look like my wife already,”

and you felt your heart race, hearing him say that, ‘my wife.’ it made your eyebrows slightly curl in puzzlement before he strokes your cheek. “i’ve been meaning to see you anyway. this wedding is gonna last us all day.”

you stare up at him, a tiny glimmer in your eye before breathing. “…well yeah, the after party and everything. why do you-”

“the more i stare at your dress, the more i wanna tear it off,” he uttered, his voice pitches a deep low. he swipes his thumb directly next to your chin. leaning into his touch, you returned the same eye contact, and he sighs. “i don’t want any other eyes seeing this but me.”

“so take it off then,” you mutter, watching the scar slanted against toji’s lips curl into a playful grin. “it’s about time, toji.”

with an eye roll, he grabs your wrist lightly, pulling you into one of the fitting rooms of the venue.

scattered everywhere was a bunch of preparations for the wedding. multiple dresses, cakes, and even presents. yet, the two of you could care less about that. 

“we gotta work on that annoying ass attitude of yours,” he breathes, not wanting to waste a split second. toji lifts you up, moving you towards the table. you wrap your arms around him before gasping. 

“don’t ruin my dress, toji. ‘n ‘i’m not gonna pay for it again.” you say against his ear, hearing him smack his lips in reprisal. 

“yeah yeah. i won’t ruin it, baby,” he rolls his eyes, carefully reaching beneath your back.

he slowly unzips it, watching the fabric drag down your chest before you’re almost exposed. his eyes roamed, making you feel a sudden heat pulse between your legs. he had one of the most intimidating gazes ever known to man. 

once toji helps you fully get out of your dress.

his eyes avert towards between your thighs, squeezed tightly shut. “…girl,” he rasps, making your legs part briefly before flickering his eyes right back towards you. “were you really gonna walk down the aisle with no panties? 

“i— i forgot,” you huff out, running a few fingers through his hair. if you weren’t mistaken, you could hear a purr come from toji’s lips. the way you massaged his scalp with such ease, your touch was everlastingly gentle. “i was rushing earlier and-”

“nah, you didn’t forget. you did this for me, didn’t you princess?” he whispers, leaning in to plant a kiss near the inner part of your neck. 

his lips were so soft.

with a loud clank towards the wooden floor, your heels fell to the ground with an abrupt thud. toji was so touchy, his rough textured hands wandered all over your body. such shivers coming out of you. “y-yes,” you’d drag out, desperately longing for him to just be inside you already. 

you’ve fantasized about this particular moment in more ways than you could count…

likewise, you were far too embarrassed to flat out ask toji to please you.

except for the moment between the two of you at the mall, that was the closest you’ve ever gotten. as mentioned before, he liked making you wait. he figured the wedding day would be the best day to show you how to deal with a real husband. 

in more ways than one… but specifically - the bedroom.

he couldn’t keep his hands off you, it was impossible. you took the chance to gnaw on your lip, feeling him touch all over you. such rough hands, yet so tender. he starts off with kisses near your lips, chaste ones near the corner of your mouth, beneath your chin, your neck…

as he inched lower and lower, you intake a sharp breath, feeling a few strands of his hair tickle against your skin.

“pretty body all jus’ for me,” he’d murmur, an almost coo escaping from his lips. you’re propped up on the table before toji sprawls your legs apart. he leers at the way your legs, the fishnets that purely decorated it. 

with his teeth, he starts to tear them off before you whine. “toji— i have to keep these.”

“y’er dress is long, baby. no one’s gonna be looking at my girl under here,” he replies, such a deep tone hovering underneath his wordings by defeault. 

again, the way he addressed you as ‘his girl,’ it pathetically made you throb. a weird feeling throbbed inside of your heart ; the same feeling you always failed to describe. 

to think you weren’t so fond of this egotistical arrogant man, and now—you were happily drenched for him.

time felt like it went by so fast. those two months you’ve gotten to know this man felt like two seconds. mayhaps that unfamiliar that continued to reside in your chest was…love? 

just imagining that made you almost gag, but perhaps that was it.

could it be that you were falling for a guy you were arranged to spend the rest of your life with? you remember a conversation with toji, telling him that you had a bit of commitment issues. 

so did he. 

that caused the two of you to bond, and toji even opened up to you a bit. about his ex-wife.

he was really selective with his words, but whenever he spoke about her, his eyes always lit up.

toji knew what it was like to be in love already. you didn’t. 

“always trapped up in those pretty thoughts of yours, huh,” toji snaps you back to reality.

he’s made sure not to ruin your fishnets, swiftly peeling them down with his teeth before you don’t even realize he’s already got you more soaked than you were before.

your cunt drooled for him—aching for more of his touch. the second you felt his breath fan against your entrance, he’s toying with you by blowing against your pussy. 

you whined, starting to pant with your eyes flickering straight down towards him. “f-fuck. our marriage’s gonna get bad luck, toji.. wasn’t supposed to see me y-yet.”

“i’m gonna marry you tonight, princess,” he reassures you. and for a split second, he has this stare as if he’s entirely joking with you.

however, his tone always sounded deadly serious. 

that rasp to it made you squeeze your thighs shut together in desperation. “nothin’ is gonna happen. we won’t get bad luck.”

and you moaned, watching him smear a thumb down your swollen clit.

it’s pulsing, and he doesn’t wait to lick a long stripe against your folds. his tongue made you swallow, already your legs started to quaver. 

he lays the base of his tongue flat against your pussy, and you bite your lip, feeling the edge of his scar swipe by your entrance. 

you liked that, a lot. a bit more than you should because he notices. gathering a wad of spit before he spat on your glistening folds. “ooh. ya like feelin’ my scar like that, princess? how’s it feel when i rub against you like this?”

“good...goooood,” you whined, burying your fingers into his hair. dragging him all across your folds, he laps up your slick that started to run down his chin before you whimper. “your scar. it-tickles, toji.”

his lashes close for a brief moment, and you moan once he slides a finger inside, gingerly easing his way inside, feeling you squeeze around him. “aw,” 

he purrs lightly, pressing a teasing chaste kiss alongside your clit. lowering his tongue, he makes sure it’s going right underneath your sensitive nub. 

toji was precise - his tongue knew every direct spot to make you sob out his name.

you didn’t even bother being quiet this time—you whimpered and mewled until your pretty voice was strained. “keep lookin’ away ‘n i’ll stop givin’ this pussy attention.”

you’re panting, heaving and heaving as your eyes trail back down towards toji.

the tip of his nose prods up against your folds, the fact that he’s nose deep…not a care in the world. 

his tongue continues to loll out, lapping up every drop of your sweetened slick. it carelessly coated his mouth, the few specks of facial hair that was barely visible. it ran all over the under part of his chin. such a messy eater. but you and him both knew that. 

“eyes down here, yeahhh. that’s it,” he coos, applying extra amounts of pressure with his tongue. he lies it flat down, and he was so sloppy.

gathering up strings of his saliva, flickering his eyes back towards you to give you a cocky grin. “pull on my hair some more…fuck, jus’ like that. yank it.”

toji gets hard feeling you roughly grip onto his darkened black locks. it gets tangled within your fingers, and you start to briefly massage his scalp, earning a low groan from him. 

toji could eat you out for hours, without a single care in the world—just his tongue between your legs, eating you out like a starved man.

as his tongue moves upwards, you whimper out a “s-shit,” that echoes throughout the room. his thumb skims against your entrance before you feel his tongue slide its way upwards, backwards. an entire zigzag of letters. “oh my goddd, toji. ‘m gonna c-cum.” 

“such a nasty fiancé. was about to walk down the aisle with no panties. the fuckin’ nerve,” he grumbles. 

a pout curls against your lips once you feel his tongue slow down.

gradually, you start to move your hips by his face and he shoots you a glare that makes you pulse. toji breaks away, pressing kisses near your inner thighs now. he’s taking attention away from your clit, and you whimper. “awh. what’s with the pout? don’t like waiting huh?”

“t— toji…” you weren’t fond of being edged, of waiting. toji raises his brows, a thumb toying with your clit, stroking it before even giving it a sweet nibble. “p-please. don’t kiss my thighs, jus’ finish. wanna cum..”

“pretty please,” he corrects you, purposely slowing his pace down just to watch you squirm in such desire. your legs. “say it girl. speak to me in that pretty voice.” 

it shook, vigorously. 

all from the rapid strokes of his tongue. your breathing patterns became so irregular it had you gasping for hair.

the way he made sure to suck and lick over every spot. chills, shivers and a plethora of other feelings run down your body before you moan, feeling him lightly nibble against your slit.

with a shaky breath exiting your throat, you mewl out a whiney, “pretty please toji. pleasepleaseplease.” 

“good girl,” he says in a smooth tone, making you let off a moan solely from the way he spoke to you. 

toji lowered his words, pronouncing in such a silky way that it made you pulse. he takes a concise slurp near your g-spot before mimicking a technique with his fingers.

unhurriedly, he slides a finger into your slick entrance, still hovering his tongue all throughout your pussy before you’re just nearly about to break. 

with your maw dropped wide, you came with the most tumultuous orgasm imaginable. he brushes his tongue against your slit as you ride out your orgasm, body growing limp abruptly over the table before you whine once he gets up. 

“open that mouth,” he utters, getting right between your trembling legs. without even a split question, you part your lips - unaware of the kiss that he planted right on your mouth. 

toji picks you up, the pretty anklet you were just idly brushing down his back. he carries you towards the sofa, still tongue tied with you—you moan in his mouth, tasting the sweetened tang of alcohol on his tongue. 

“y’don't know how bad i need you,” he gruffs, breaking between kisses, strands of your own saliva departs, and the more he shoved his tongue down your throat, the more you tasted yourself. swiftly, you move your tongue beneath his bottom lip, tasting how sweet you were and it made you whine. 

toji’s words rang throughout your ears like church bells. he practically treated you like a rag doll. your dress was off—and you were all exposed with just a pretty bra. 

“tell me you want me,” he mouthed, getting directly between you. toji was between your legs, hovering over you with bulky arms just stretched near the sides of you. he leans in, cupping your chin, stroking your thumb. “tell me you want me, and i’ll give you all of me.”

“i— i want all of you, toji,” you pant, your eyes focusing directly on him and only him. toji was still in his tuxedo. he was so handsome, there was certainly no denying. with matching black slacks, he reached for his tie—giving it a firm pull before snickering at your answer. 

“good girl,” he praises you, and you’re so impatient. with a few shuffling you hear the commotion of him unbuckling his pants — he's intentionally going slow, dragging things out to see that sweet pout form across your lips again. “goin’ as fast as i can, sweetheart. don’t give me that look.”

he was always such a tease. you kissed your teeth in annoyance, averting your eyes towards the ceiling before he’s finally through. 

toji stares down, using his right hand to pry your legs open a bit. his left hand to give himself a few pumps. you glanced down, and nearly moaned at the sight of his length. he was so thick, veins ran all the way down and you were almost drooling. 

he grunts, spotting you gawking at him and it only gets him ten times harder. taking a deep inhale, you stare at his happy trail. speckles of black hair decorating near his abdomen. it was sexy, toji was a well trimmed man surprisingly. 

“f-fuck, look how hard you make me,” he huffs out, and that’s when he makes you turn over on your back. you were staggered a bit at the sudden change of position—yet before you could react, that’s when you felt the plump tip of his dick prod against your entrance. “damn. she’s all excited for me. fuck this wedding, i just want you princess.”

his words…there came that same feeling brewing up inside you. a soft whine escapes from your lips as you’re dumbly arched beside the sofa, sucking in a breath. he finishes gently aligning himself. 

once he starts to go in, you let off a, “f-fuckkk,” that reverberated across the entire fitting room. he was big. saying toji was big, an entire understatement.

his girth had you nearly choking on your own saliva. with a single hand, he grips onto your waist, watching you gradually swallow him. “toji, you’re so b-big. ‘s really big.”

“perfect size just for you, baby,” he sighs, already feeling droplets of sweat race down the sides of his forehead. 

toji’s heaving, he licks his lips at the sight of you arching for him. as each inch sinks in further and further—you could feel him stretch you out even better than his fingers ever could.

your pussy squelched, longing for him to keep going. start up a pace, do something.. 

“easy girl, easy,” he murmurs, just barely halfway in. you try to bear around him and he smiles, running a hand down your spine to make you whimper. “relax for me. that’s it. good fuckin’ good.”

“t-toji..” you’d moan. each set of praises he gave you made your head spin, your heart raced, thinking was so hard for you. especially with such a size as big as his. “oh my g-god, ‘m gonna cum.”

he clicks his tongue, almost in before caressing your ass. “no baby, y’er not gonna cum yet,” and then he titter’s underneath his breath. “cute little drama queen.”

he was right in some way—you weren’t gonna cum so soon, but it did feel like it.

your face lowers against the cushioned pillow, flat down and you hug against it. biting your lip, your eyes rolled into the very depths of your cranium once toji presents you with a single rough thrust. 

one thrust. 

one thrust was all it took to make you let off the most sweetest melodic whimper imaginable. toji wanted to hear it—again, and again, and again. if it was anything he knew, he was slowly becoming more and more addicted to his future wife’s voice. 

“i just want you to feel all of me,” he starts, speaking between thrusts. your lips, spit-glossed and quavering. you whimper out, feeling his body weight press against you. 

it was so provocative. so arousing, this particular position.

doggystyle but with more depth.

he’d be able to reach more in a deeper angle to where you’re barely able to formulate comprehensible sentences. “i wanna reach you in spots no one’s ever reached before, princess,” he continued, leaning right up close to you—you let off a whine, feeling his cock stretch you out with such simplicity. “will you let me do that?”

“yes, yes. please..” you immediately spat out, feeling yourself coat the lower part of his shaft with your slick. you were already drenched, so soaked from before. being propped up over the armrest of the sofa. it made you feel so lewd. 

your cunt gripped all against him, gummy walls tugging back and forth tightly that it makes you whimper out. “toji, i want you. i- i want you too.”

“yeah girl. i know you do.” he replies with sass, giving your ass a brief smack—only to quickly caress it shortly afterwards. the sting, you licked your lips before letting off a sweet whimper. just a simple action as that made you throb. 

toji was a big guy, once he started up a rhythmic pace, you immediately fell in love. not with him, with his strikes, his mean thwacking hits against your cunt. 

or was it …?

only time could tell. 

you were far too dumb to comprehend anything. all you could even fathom was how big he was. stretching your cunt out as if it was some sort of elastic band. 

toji’s cock reached every crevice, you felt his tip prod against spots you didn’t even know could be reached. 

“o-ohhh my fuckin’ god, fuckkk,” you’d gasp, feeling him lower his weight against you just a bit further. by this point, he was smacking his hips roughly against you.

it was hypnotizing. the way he rolled his hips at such a titillating speed, so deep. you were almost drooling—you wanted more, and more, and more. “right there, ‘s too good. fuck me right th—”

“don’t tell me how to fuck, princess.” he groans, making you lie back against the wooly arm of the sofa. his tone was so raspy and mean, you were aching each time he spoke to you. 

toji’s favorite part was seeing your ass go back against him, it made him kiss his teeth everytime. the recoil.

your ass had him locked hard. just jouncing back against him. he pivots his hips before you moan once he starts to shift a bit. 

“need to go deeper,” he groans, and you don’t know what he means before you feel him lean right up against you. you whimper, feeling the back of toji’s sock suddenly make contact with your neck. 

“deeper ‘n deeper,” he huffs out, and you moan at the soft fabric brushing near your skin. he was fucking you with a foot pressed lightly against your neck. this angle—it was filthy.

if you weren’t drooling, then you certainly were now. he groans, each time you clamp down against him it makes his jaw tighten. “waited so long jus’ to have ya underneath me like this, baby.”

the more toji spoke, the more you disassociated. his dick did wonders.

each stroke had you gasping for air. his hits against you, the way he had his foot right by your neck. pretty lashes of your continued to flicker and flutter whilst he was fucking you insanely stupid. 

“m-more, please. getting close, tojiiii.” and he finds it cute. the way you drag out your words in such a obscene way. he’s making jerk back and back against him—it elicits out the honeyed sounds from you. 

“fuck back against me ‘n i’ll think about it,” he puffs out. you whine pathetically, making a cute attempt to move back against him.

it was barely any movement due to toji’s foot pressed up against your neck but you tried. he cackles roughly, teasingly sliding fingers down your back before cooing. “a for effort, baby. i’ll take it from here, yeah?”

and he does, like the true gentleman he was. 

toji keeps you in that same position for a good thirty minutes until your legs were close to essentially giving out. 

you came a lot, repeatedly. constantly. 

over and over again until the word cum was forever the only existing word engraved into your dumb little brain. you were speechless, fundamentally losing track of your orgasms he gave you. you shuddered, each position making you covet for more. you didn’t want to stop. 

not now, not ever.

“fuckin’ look at her grip on me so sloppy like,” he nips at his tongue, currently having you laid on your side. he pistons his dick in and out of you at such a tempo…it was so amorous. 

he was referring to the way the strings of his and your own cum stringing together.

back and forth, so messy. he watched in awe, sliding his tongue amongst his lips before groaning. “can only imagine what our honeymoon would be like, sweetheart. i’d probably fuck around ‘n get you pregnant. maybe gift you with a kid or two.”

“t— toji,” you’d moan, and a rigid grip goes against your waist. whilst he was giving you vigorous shots from the side, you’re just hugging him tightly with your squelching walls.

the sounds your cunt made from its impact was so loud. it earned a hiss from him before he slowed his thrusts down. “do it.”

“silly girl,” he laments, a thumb stroking against the softness of your side. he was pumping you full of inches, you’re just taking it with your tongue lolled out—it felt so good.

each spot, he hit it deeply. the curve of toji’s dick, it had somewhat of an upward curve that made him reach a more thorough angle inside of you. “f-fuck, but ‘m gonna stuff you full again. ‘s that what you want? a plump pretty belly jus’ for me to see?”

you whimper, nodding your head ardently. 

“use those words.” he huffs out, deepening his strokes against you. while feeling your ass jumar and clamp back by him. your walls hugged him solidly like a vice. it’s got his head spinning in circles, on a constant loop. 

“give it to me t-toji, wan’ you to fill me up again,” you’d hiccup, and then he suddenly makes you lie down on your back. he gives you a smile, dark green irises staring right into you before he pulls out briefly—just before plugging himself back in. 

toji swallows thickly, his jaw clenching steadfastly once he ends up cumming again. he poured such thick ropes into you.

it was warm. the way it trickled into you, he makes you grow quiet so you can hear it. 

“…f-fuckin’ hell,” he husked, his head going back as he raises your leg up to give it a soft kiss. you milked him so good to where his voice started to become a bit more shaky. even a bit whiny.

toji stuttering was something new to you—and you’d be a liar if you said that didn’t turn you on. “take it all princess, saved all this jus’ for you….damn.”

he utters the last part underneath his breath, his abs flexing before he grabs ahold of his dick. it was swollen. throbbing from the stimulation before he pulled out again, this time smearing his cum all across your entrance. “always… always liked myself a messy girl.”

eventually, the two of you nearly ended up missing your own ceremony. dozens of guests came to show their support for the new soon-to-be wedded couple.

toji helped clean you up, as promised, not a damage was done to your costly dress. 

the venue couldn’t have been anymore perfect. the surprise was a bit ruined figuring the two of you had seen each other right before the official wedding. 

toji’s hair was a bit messed up. he runs his hands through it whilst the entire crow stands up once you start trodding your feet down the aisle. 

that generic traditional wedding piano tune plays, and you’re walking with your father, the train piece of your wedding dress flowing down throughout each step. 

toji has this gaze on you the entire time, hands buried in his pockets and his eyes linger. it made you nervous—something was telling you something, but you chose to ignore it. did you love him? or did you not? 

once you finally made it up near the stand with toji, he grabs your hands with the most sleaziest grin. he strokes against your hands as the priest started to recite the same broad speech, “dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the holy union of…”

as he spoke, the two of you kept eyes on each other the entire time. toji towered over you, and he genuinely looked in love. he had a softness to his face, yet a smug look that never went away. your gut was telling you something—yet you couldn’t figure out exactly what. 

the priest continued to speak before focusing his attention towards you. “do you take this man to be your husband, to live together, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health—forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

“i do.” you mutter without hesitation. 

the priest then turns towards toji before letting off a sigh, staring back into his book. “sir. do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health—forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

toji stares lovingly into your eyes, tilting his head before he leans up close to you—you’re caught by surprise once he kisses you early. it was a deep kiss, you kissed back, wrapping your arms around him before he pulls away.

yet before he can say, “i do,”

toji makes your heart come to a stop, murmuring out the fatal words against your lips, “sorry baby, i can’t.”

[somnoir]

As a prompt Danny after he enters Gotham for any suddenly starts growing again for the first time since the portal incident and his body instead of slowly again decides to catch up all the missing years of growing at once so Danny goes from still looking 14 to suddenly having his father's height and looking his actual age.

Growing pains.... Literally

Since his death, Danny hasn't really... Grown. His parents think he's a late bloomer, that he'll grow later in life. But it's been four years since he's died and he hasn't grown a single inch in that time.

Frostbite is kind enough to tell me that... Well... He's stuck.

He's stuck in this form until something affects his physical form. Amity, even though it's considered the most haunted place in earth, doesn't have enough ambient ectoplasm for Danny. There are too many ghosts from the realm that feed of it, too many nevermores that need it to exist. Amity feeds it's ghosts but it doesn't have enough for a halfa like him.

When he moved to Gotham for the aerospace program (plus the scholarship) he doesn't expect much from it. People still question him about his age, it almost ends with him flinging his ID and birth certificate on people and cussing them out on his height.

He had even started exploring the city. There was this one cafe he found and the owner, Lily, was an absolute angel! With a shotgun. And he met a lot of people in Lily's Eden Cafe, like this weird kid that apparently dropped out of high school. Now, Danny ain't one to judge, so he's pretty okay with Tim. Except for the fact that he was so cool and smooth on a skateboard. Danny wanted one too.

Almost a week after moving, he's suffering. His body hurts, everything aches. It's as if something inside of him was trying to break out and it's making his bones strain. Everything about it hurts.

Many days passed of Danny being delirious from the pain, barely able to register what he was doing. A week and it's like he spent a coma walking around while his consciousness was asleep, practically dead by the lack of his memories.

The next time he woke up, it's been a week since he blacked out from the pain.

There's music in the background, almost familiar. The beat is something he heard Ember compose before his eighteenth birthday, then it was practically blasted through our the Ghost Zone when the day actually came.

"Shhh! Turn that racket down!"

"Hell nah! He likes it, see?"

"The little king seems.... To......change... Gotham..."

His eyes snapped open, gasping when he saw multiple pairs of eyes looking down at him.

"He's alive!"

Danny's instincts took over in that second and he's sending a blast of ecto towards the sudden scream. More screaming. Too much screaming. His head hurt.

"Holy shit, baby pop!"

He takes a moment before he's recognizing Ember... And the hole on his wall... And his glowing hand. Shit.

"Woah, woah! Calm down."

In Danny's confused state, he could barely register Kitty and Johnny in the room. Oh, and Shadow too. But still...

"I— What happened?" He groaned, blinking slowly. "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

His voice... OH MY GOD HIS VOICE! Why was it so deep?! What was wrong with his voice? Did he have a cold or something? Or maybe it's just his morning voice—

"Congrats on your dawning!" Johnny congratulated, grinning like a madman.

"What?" ooh, that was weird, "What the heck is an dawning?"

"Ooh, baby pop!" Ember cooed, "Forgot that our little king is still pretty new to being all ghost. C'mon now, baby. Mama Ember will teach you all about ghost puberty."

"GHOST WHAT?!"

Ghost puberty was a thing apparently. He had hauled himself into the Far Frozen after yelling at the four ghosts to steal him some clothes that would actually fit him. Because his entire body felt wrong... So wrong.

He was taller now. Having shot up from 5'4" to a whopping 6'2". Everything still hurt and now all his clothes didn't even fit! Nothing looked right when he'd looked at the mirror. He was almost as tall a shis dad now—he looked almost exactly like his dad now actually. It was almost terrifying how much he resembled his dad. If he went to visit now, he's sure that his mother would have a heart attack from how quickly he had grown.

"Frostbite!" Danny practically growled and oooh... Yeah, now it sounded differently to whenever he'd end up snarling. The deepness of his voice almost intimidated him.

"Great one!" The yeti greeted, looking utterly ecstatic to see him. "Ah, I see you've finished your dawning. I offer my sincerest congrats, your majesty."

"Yeah, yeah. The fuck is a Dawning?"

Frostbite blinked, before his expression morphed into a grim one. "Oh dear... I had thought that the Observants would have deigned to explain this too you upon your coronation... Well, let us sit then, great one. This will be a long one."

To summarize it all, Ghost puberty.

A Dawning was a time every ghost went through, so long as there was enough ambient ectoplasm around them to help their forms morph into their preferred appearances. Usually, a ghosts appearance to their own mentality. Their maturity.

Apparently, Young Blood already went through a Dawning but remained in his child-like form due to his own mental age. He was a child in heart, mind, soul, and body.

Meanwhile... Danny who was still alive yet also dead, had followed on with his mental maturity. His body morphed, it changed, it adapted to how he saw himself, how he desperately wanted to become deep down in his core.

And this Danny Fenton was a 6'2" giant trying to control all his limbs that were suddenly too long, too heavy. Everything felt strange....

Tim Drake's favorite cafe was known for being neutral ground for both rogues and vigilantes. You don't fuck around Lilian's cafe or else she'll pull out a rifle and shoot you dead. So if course, Tim fucking loved the place.

Actually, many people frequented it.

He's familiarised himself with the faces of a lot of people by then. Even that scrawny new kid that arrived three weeks ago. Tim remembers Danny for how enthusiastic he was about going to collage, not even minding the madness of Gotham itself. It was like he thrived in it.

He waves at Lilian after ordering his usual, taking a seat in the corner before he's whipping out his laptop. Duke and Steph arrive soon after, immediately ordering before going off to join Tim.

Mundane things, something they all seemed to appreciate more.

The bell rings, more customers arrive and—

"Danny! Holy hell, what happened?"

Tim paused, immediately snapping his eyes towards— WHAT THE FUCK?!

Steph whistled, "Hot damn..."

Danny Fenton was a scrawny young man, shorter than Tim. Even more slim.

But whoever the hell entered the cafe was 6'2", almost as muscled as Jason, and slouching like Clark—as if he was in the wrong body. He almost dropped his drink if not for Duke gently guiding his hand down.

"Hey, Lils..."

God, what the fuck was that? What was happening? Who the hell was this awkward adonis with a voice as deep as the fucking ocean?

"Tim?" Duke waved his hand over his eyes, "Timothy? Timbers?"

"Duke, leave him alone. He's gone, never coming back." Steph snickered, shaking her head before her eyes went back to Danny, who was stuttering as he tried to order what he wanted. "But damn if I wouldn't act the same. Shoot your shot—"

Shoot his fucking shot he did.

"Hey Danny..." Tim slid up to him with a smile.

Danny blinked—woah was he tall and practically built like a fucking fridge—before his eyes brightened and a smile joined his expression.

"Hi Tim!"

Was this how Bruce felt like when he saw Clark?

Masterpost

[yawnderu]

Mine — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Art by @ave661!

Synopsis: knowing he couldn't provide you with the life you wanted, Simon breaks things off with you. Two years later, you come back to base with a baby that isn't his.

Content: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, established relationships, breeding, erotic lactation, romantic love making, praising. No beta we die like Roach.

Ghost always knew his lifestyle would forever be considered out of the norm. A soldier who risks his life every single mission, a man who has built an entire plethora of enemies in multiple countries should never even bother settling down, yet why does it hurt to bad to see you come back to base with a baby that isn't his? It was his idea to break up— not wanting to destroy your dreams of wanting a family in a gated community, even when you reassured him living together as soldiers wouldn't be an issue at all.

"Say 'hi, Simon'." You tell the baby you're carrying, the tiny thing wearing a bear onesie is looking up at Simon, pure curiosity in her eyes. She simply babbles, short arms reaching out to touch his skull mask. To your surprise and to his heart break, he leans down so your daughter can play with the hard plate of the mask, not worried at all about her breaking it.

"She looks like you." He said with a choked voice, trying his best to sound calm. He doesn't even dare look at you, his gaze focused on the tiny girl you're holding.

"Dada!" She babbles out while touching his mask and Simon's eyes immediately go towards you, soul almost leaving his body in fear of seeing disgust on your face, yet all he sees is a bashful smile adorning your pretty features. He holds in his breath, eyebrows furrowed under the balaclava as he waits for your response.

"Astrid, that's—" You begin and she interrupts, one of her tiny hands barely being able to hold one of his big skull gloved fingers. "Dada!" She insists, louder this time. There's only 3 words the little girl can say including 'Dada', so you're not all that concerned about her seeing him that way.

"Sorry, she—" You get interrupted once again, this time by Simon.

"It's okay." If being delusional and pretending this tiny thing is his daughter helps him deal with the heartbreak making his chest hurt, he doesn't mind. The girl clings to Simon's neck and you lean closer, giving her a questioning look. She never liked being held by anyone but you, often crying whenever friends tried to hold her.

"This might sound strange, but..." His gaze shifted from you to the child, heart melting at the little girl holding onto the neck of his jacket for dear life.

"Can I hold her?" His voice was hoarse, hands almost shaking from all the emotions that hit him at once.

"Of course." Your warm smile reassured him, gently passing him the baby. He supported the back of her head with his hand, easily dwarfing her entire skull, yet being so delicate with his touch you could swear he thinks your daughter is made of glass.

Simon felt light headed as the little girl was slipped into his arms, fitting perfectly in his hands. His eyes lit up when he looked down and saw her soft, chubby fingers wrap around the chain of his dog tags, a small smile forming under the balaclava. He brought her close and cradled her, heart thundering in his chest at holding this lovely girl you created.

"Dada." She pointed at him with her finger, looking back at you as she squeezed his chain with her free hand. You could swear you saw one of his eyebrows lifting in amusement under the mask, the same cocky look you know too well.

"Maybe she wants me to be her daddy." He teased you, cradling the baby delicately in his strong arms, shielding her from any danger. He was instantly smitten the second he saw her, content to have your permission to hold her even after all you both went through.

"Don't be so smug about it, bastard." You playfully roll your eyes, leaning your head on his shoulder to give your little girl a kiss on the forehead, her hand holding onto your hair softly the same way you managed to teach her after one too many times of having your hair pulled by the tiny creature.

"Mama." She attempted to pet your hair the same you taught her how to pet a cat, albeit her tiny limbs moved much sloppier and with surprising strength.

"I think it's sweet." He said with a cheeky smirk, the pain in his chest going away more and more the longer he held your daughter. He was secretly hoping to get a reaction out of you after almost two years of not being able to tease you.

"You can tell her no all you want, but if she wants a dada, she's got one." As if to prove his point, he pointed with his eyes to the girl in his arms, the child reaching out towards Ghost with a giggle. His fingers tickled the baby gently, making her laugh even more. You look between Simon and the baby, a fond smile on your lips when you see just how easily they get along, the pupils in his brown eyes fully dilated as he looks down at her.

"Look at her." Ghost spoke softly, one of his skull gloved fingers running down the length of her short hair.

"She looks like an angel." He looked down at the child with nothing short of raw adoration, gaze drifting back to you, taking in the sweet moment of your body leaning against his while you both fawn over the infant. You hesitantly move away from his shoulder after a few seconds and he gives you a questioning side eye.

"I've got a meeting with Price, let me—" You reach out for your baby and he looks down at you, gaze softening.

"I can babysit for you." He offers with a hopeful look in his eyes. How can you deny anything to this man when he's holding your little girl as if he would die for her no questions asked? When those big brown eyes are looking down at you, the moisture in them clear as day? You nod your head, offering a warm smile as you give your baby one last kiss in the cheek, accidentally tickling her and making her giggle even more.

"There's a few baby bottles in the fridge, just run them over hot water for a few seconds until it's warm— but not too warm." He nods his head as you give him instructions on how to take care of the baby, listening intently. He doesn't have the heart to tell you he knows how to take care of a child— he babysat his former nephew many, many times before. He doesn't even realize he dissociated until you gently pat his shoulder, walking to Price's office.

"You and me, yeah?" He asks your baby who simply giggles in return, tiny hands going back to play with the hard plate of his skull mask.

The meeting took much longer than expected, catching up with Price and talking about your possible return to the 141. It isn't until three hours later that you go back to your quarters, heart in your throat when you turn on the lights.

Ghost is laying on your bed, civilian clothes on with a hoodie covering half of his upper face, your baby safely secured on his chest. You don't have the heart to wake them up, instead grabbing your phone and snapping a quick picture, making sure not a single feature of his face is seen for his own safety and privacy.

The change of lighting slowly wakes him up, offering you a tired smile before his eyes close again once he realizes it's just you. You take off your boots and turn off the light, sneaking into bed with your lovely baby and... your ex.

It feels too natural to even think much about it, one of his arms instantly wrapping around your shoulders to bring you closer, head resting on his chest along with the tiny offspring. He drifts off to sleep soundly with his two girls and for the first time in a long time, he's able to get a full night's sleep, not being woken up by his violent nightmares.

Weeks pass as Simon spends more and more time with you, your new contract signed the same day you had a meeting with Price, though he's not putting you on any missions yet until they figure out who will take care of your daughter while you're away. Today Gaz and Soap asked to take her out, claiming they wanted to buy some new clothes for her since she's growing up fast.

"Hey, big guy." You greet Simon, who seems to have relocated to your quarters for whatever reason— the man literally spends his whole time there and you don't even question it anymore, simply assuming he wanted to spend more time with your daughter. You know details here and there about his family, though he was never clear about the full story. You sit down next to him and he nods his head in acknowledgment, too busy looking at his phone.

"Can I buy her this?" He points his phone at you, showing you a website selling pajama pants for babies, the ones he's showing you are grey and have a skull pattern all over. You playfully roll your eyes, nodding your head before laying down next to him, head laying on his chest while you look at his phone, browsing the website together.

"You don't have to buy her things, you know?" You take a few seconds to admire his unmasked features iluminated by his phone—the soft jawline, thin pink lips, high nose and skin around his eyes that always seemed to be tainted with eye black no matter how well he washed it off.

"Telling me what to do, Sargeant?" He teased, raising an eyebrow at you and being an asshole jokingly just to make you laugh. It only earns him a slap on the arm, phone dropping right on his face. He turns his head slowly to look at you and you can recognize the look in his eyes— you try to run away but he holds you down, fingers already tickling your ribs as you laugh and struggle, trying your best to get out of his grasp to no avail.

"Pause." You kick and scream, laughter escaping your lips due to the tickles. As soon as you speak he stops, looking down at you with a tender look in his face. You gasp for air and he takes the chance to look down at your lips, so close, so inviting...

"I saw that." You tease and he jokingly pushes your head into the pillow, laying down next to you with an arm wrapped around your waist. You giggle at the remaining feeling of the tickles before laying back down on your side, hand absent-mindedly tracing patters on his defined, clothed stomach. You don't know when you both started becoming so close again, yet the comfort is always welcome in the turbulent life of a soldier.

"When's that lot coming back?" He looks down at you, longing mixed with curiosity. Truth to be told, he knows the boys will keep your baby safe, but he wants to have her right back where she belongs— in his arms.

"Like... two hours, I think. If they don't find anything too distracting. Don't worry, I made them take a jacket for her in case it gets cold." He would never tell you he was the one to put the baby jacket in the car because they all forgot.

"Good, good." He sighs, looking up at the ceiling, deep in thought. It's quiet for a few minutes, both of you finding comfort in the silence before he speaks again.

"Are you planning on having another one?" He asks curiously, gaze drifting down towards you, doing his best to hide the longing and hope in his tone.

"Maybe." You keep in simple, eyes staying closed as you trace patterns on the muscles of his stomach, feeling them flex involuntarily at your touch.

"Why? Interested on having a family with me now, Simon?" You tease, an eyebrow raised at him as you finally open your eyes. He seems to be thinking about it for a few seconds before hesitantly nodding.

"Bullshit." You sit up, looking down at him with a mix of confusion and hope.

"S' the truth." He plays it off casually as if he didn't confess being ready to do the same thing that broke both of you off two years ago. He pulls you back down to his chest, fingers gently massaging your scalp. You can hear his heart beat fast, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows the knot in his throat.

You stay quiet, unsure of what to say. It's too much all at once— knowing Simon actually wanted to settle down with you bringing a mix of anxiety and fear to both of you equally. He never had a normal family, and though deep down he was scared of being like his father, he already proved to himself he can be gentle and tender, the same way he is with your daughter.

His hand slowly drifted down from your waist to the curve of your ass, softly squeezing it while looking at you for any signs of hesitation. He finds none, and instead sees you leaning closer and closer until your lips crash, the passion of two lovers who never got over one another present in the kiss.

Clothes are discharged all over the room with no care at all, the quarter walls bouncing off with a mix of your moans and his low groans, a pillow under your hips while he fucked into your cunt, slow and deep thrusts making the tip of his fat cock slam into your willing cervix.

"Gonna look so fucking pretty with my kid." He whispers into your ear, breathy groans leaving his lips as his thrusts slow down, making love to you rather than just fucking you for a quick nut. One of his hands cups your cheek, forcing you to look up at him.

"Tell me. Tell me how pretty you'll be all swollen with my baby." You hesitate and he kisses your lips gently, gaze tender while he looks down at you, thrusts hitting deeper and deeper each time as he waits for you to speak.

"I'll look... so pretty—fuck— with your child." You manage to speak out between whiny moans, the way he's looking at you with pure love and adoration is all you need to confirm he does find you attractive. Truth to be told, it's difficult being confident after glint through something that permanently alters your body, yet he's looking at you like you're even more beautiful than before. In his eyes, you are.

"That's a good girl." He praises, hips rutting faster against yours as he drove himself deeper and deeper into your cunt, the nasty squelching sound every time he goes hits it hard making this even more exciting. He holds himself up with his elbows, large hands cupping your tits while he pops one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it like a starved man finding shelter.

"These tits are gonna be so big too." He murmurs, swallowing the milk coming out of your tits with no hesitation. His hand gets busy with your other nipple, gently pulling and squeezing the sensitive bud, not minding the milk squirting all over. It's too good to be true— your body changing so much to keep your baby healthy and soon enough, it'll change for his baby too.

"So fuckin' perfect, baby." He praises, eyes closing as he focuses on how good your wet walls are wrapping around his unprotected cock, tongue swirling around your nipple before he latches onto it again, drinking the sweet milk coming out.

"This cock's all yours." He lets go of your nipple, face seeking shelter on the crook of your neck as his thrusts get sloppier by the second, embarrassingly nasty words coming out of his lips like prayer. You're the only one allowed to ever see him like this, to have him in any possibly way. He doesn't even care how he's promising you the world, offering all of himself to you without having any doubts.

"Everyone's gonna know you're mine, love." He whispers into your ear, voice hoarse and full emotion, hips stuttering before he buries himself all the way into your cunt, cum splurging out directly into your willing, fertile womb. He keeps himself inside, caging you in with his strong arms into a protective embrace, wanting to make sure not a single drop of cum is wasted.

"All mine."

[hyukalyptus]

office hours — professor!soobin x gradstudent!reader

cw. chubby!reader, reader is an adult grad student, minimal age gap, clear consent, petnames (babe, baby, honey, darling, good boy), mommy kink, face sitting, unprotected penetration, creampie, cunnilingus, handjobs, ending is cheesy, "epilogue" of sorts involves christmas vibes, kissing, please lmk if i'm missing anything. NSFW/MDNI notes. i would feel irresponsible if i didn't acknowledge this is a romanticized portrayal of a professor-student relationship. while the relationship in this story has clear consent multiple times, irl relationships like this can be inappropriate and exploitative bc of the authority imbalance. you deserve a healthy, consensual relationship. prioritize ur well-being and autonomy. relationships should be built on mutual respect, equality and clear consent. this is a work of fiction and should be read as such. shoutout to @silvergyus for sending the prof!soob pic <3 wc. 11.6k

“Which brings us to Le Chatelier's Principle in real-world chemical reactions,” Professor Choi says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “This will be review for most of you, so I won’t go into too much detail.” 

Chemistry is your favorite thing in the world. It’s real-life magic. And Professor Choi sees it that way too. His olive green chinos are wrinkled from walking from his office. The sleeves of his white button-down are pushed up so he can write freely on the whiteboard while his burgundy tie sways with his scurries. 

Sparks of passion fill his eyes as he lectures. And he never disappoints with his cheesy jokes. Although you seem to be the only one that laughs at them—maybe you’re the only one that gets them. Not many students in his class are the experts in chemistry you are. You took it as a break from your intense course load and the elective credits are a nice bonus. 

Most of your professors are so old they barely know how to turn on their laptop and are so deep into their tenure they’ve given up. If you bothered showing up to their office hours, you’d be lucky to find a professor, let alone a helpful one. So you’ve become a frequent visitor in Professor Choi’s office hours, talking about advanced chemistry he can’t wait to teach but it’ll be at least five years before he can. In the meantime, he’ll settle for nerding out with you in his office for a few hours every week.

“Great class today, everyone,” he says. “Have a great weekend and don’t hesitate to visit me during my office hours with any questions!” That sentence started out as a normal speaking voice but ended up a shout over the shuffling of the desk chairs and backpacks. You’re typically the last one out, but you save your questions for his office hours tomorrow. 

-

“Hi,” you say, lightly tapping your knuckle against his office door.

Turning around in his chair, his lips form a pout in surprise at seeing you. “Were you waiting outside? Sorry that meeting ran a little long—” He shuffles to organize his desk. 

“That’s okay.” Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, he rests his hands on his thighs and looks up at you. Did he just look you up and down? Don’t be ridiculous. 

“What can I do ya for?”

“Right,” you start. “Can I…?” You ask, motioning toward the spare chair, waiting for his nod before sitting. “You know Professor Vaughn’s class?” You barely catch it, but his eyes roll. Professor Vaughn is the worst professor you’ve had. Boring, harsh, impatient. It doesn’t help he teaches one of the most complex forms of chemistry. “I’m not really getting this week’s content and was wondering if you could help me.”

“Of course.” He smiles. And it’s devastating. The sparkle in his eyes and those dimples. Craning his neck to look at your notes riddled with red question marks, he nods. As soon as he sees the title of your notes, he says, “Let’s think about this from a quantum mechanical perspective. If we assume that the π-complex is forming, we’re talking about a stabilization due to delocalization π-electrons, right?”

In what feels like no time at all, an hour has passed and the conversation has been the complete opposite of Professor Vaughn’s lectures. Questions led down rabbit holes, leading to other theorems and more questions. As he glances up at you through his glasses, there is an undeniable tingle in your stomach.

It’s not like you haven’t noticed how attractive Professor Choi is. He’s tall, lean but undeniably strong, he has the most perfect silky black hair and the prettiest brown eyes, and his pout—indescribably cute. And again—those goddamn dimples. He’s the perfect mixture of sexy, handsome, and pretty. You’d never think of doing anything with a professor, but you can’t help your mind wanders during the slower lectures. 

How long have you been staring at each other in silence? Too long probably. He clears his throat. “Well,” he says, looking at his watch. “My office hours have been over for a few—”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” you say, stumbling as you stand, attempting to gather your things as quickly as possible. But he shakes his head, trying to shrug it off. 

“That’s okay,” he says. “I, uh, I just have my emails waiting for me.”

You nod, shoving everything into your bag and heading out the door. What was that? You’re probably overreacting, you think to yourself. He’s charming because of his looks, there’s no way he’d— No. Don’t even finish that thought. 

-

"How is it that someone who scored the highest in my theoretical chemistry exam is turning basic lab work into a spectacle of incompetence?" Professor Vaughn boasts over your right shoulder. No doubt his thick eyebrows are furrowed.

As your hands tighten around the test tube, you know exactly what to do—you always do—but everything slips through your fingers in his class. 

"I’m trying to get the reaction to stabilize," you stammer, eyes darting between your hands, the chemical reagents lined up on the table, and your notebook.

Professor Vaugn’s expression hardens as he steps closer, looking down his nose at your station. "Trying is for high school sophomores. If you’re still trying, you’re behind."

Taking a deep breath, you carefully add three more drops to the mixture but the reaction goes wrong. Again. A plume of white smoke rises from the beaker, and the liquid turns an unexpected, muddy brown.

"Unbelievable," Vaughn mutters loud enough for everyone to hear. Everyone knows you’re the best student in your class. Well, everyone except Soren, who’s so jealous of your intelligence they can hardly stand it. They simply smirk. "I expected more from you."

Your heart sinks. You checked those calculations three times. Maybe it’s your shaky hands. Or the pressure of him looming over your shoulder. Or the other stuff on your mind. 

"Are you going to sit there and guess again, or would you like to double down on failure with your next attempt?" Vaughn sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I’m not guessing, Professor. I—"

"Can’t manage a basic reaction?" Vaughn interrupts with his icy voice. "I’m beginning to wonder how you even made it into this program."

"I’m perfectly capable. The solution is just—"

"Wrong. Yes, we’ve established that." Vaughn’s lips curl into a patronizing sneer. "Maybe chemistry isn’t the field for you if this is the best you can manage." That got everyone’s attention—it would be an interesting sight to see you fail. It so rarely happens. Sure, you’ve been doubted before but have always proven yourself. Today would be no different.

You take a deep breath and count to yourself, One. Two. Three. Four. Five. 

As you block out Vaughn’s piercing gaze and the weight of the other students’ eyes, you carefully remeasure the chemical, adjusting the proportions this time, methodically double-checking your work. You add the reagent once more, slowly, and watch as the solution begins to shift. 

A moment passes. The reaction stabilizes and the solution turns a clear, pale blue. 

"Finally," Vaughn mutters. You don’t even have to look at him to know he rolled his eyes. He turns to walk away but pauses. "Barely acceptable. Next time, you won’t be given the luxury of so many failures."

-

Bursting through the door upon dismissal, you can’t get to the restroom fast enough, barely making it to a stall before tears stream down your cheeks. 

“One. Two. Three. Four. Five,” you whisper to yourself. 

Sometimes, chemical reactions need to be dealt with instantly, but that’s an overwhelming amount of pressure. You give yourself five seconds before you absolutely have to deal with it. Same thing here. Cry. Count to five. Wipe your tears and move on.

But it’s difficult to move on this time. You’ve counted to five a few too many times today. But the only person you want to talk about it with is—

Professor Choi,  Are you available to meet me in Lab 270 tomorrow afternoon? I’ve been struggling with some reactions and could use some help. I’ll be there from 2:00—4:00.  If not, no worries! 

Sniffling, you hit send on your email app, shove your phone in your bag and head home. 

The next day drags on and on. Did he even get your message? Expecting an empty lab, you’re surprised to find Professor Choi waiting for you behind a laptop wearing a cute tweed jacket with suede elbow patches. His eyebrows are furrowed as his focused eyes study the computer, but they brighten at the sight of you. 

Initially surprised by your confusion, he squeezes his eyes shut and says, “I didn’t respond to your email, did I?” He’s already got the lab station set up. How long has he been waiting on you? “So, how’s Professor Vaughn’s class?” Did someone tell him about yesterday? God, you hope not. 

“Fine,” you deadpan. Shaking your head, you say, “I’m sorry…I’m just kinda stressed.” 

“I can go if you need some time by—”

“No,” you say, softening your tone. “I’d really appreciate your help.”

And he’s more than willing, letting you ask whatever you want, never interrupting or talking over you like most of the men in the program. He gives you space to explore ideas and theories, listening closely instead of answering everything for you.

And he’s so damn sexy when he’s the one doing the ranting. The way he talks with his hands, ones that are so big with fingers so long you wish he would wrap around your—

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” He asks.

Oh shit, did you say that out loud? What a fucking nightmare. “Uh, sorry, just…talking to myself. Too many thoughts racing around the ole dome.”

A slight pout forms on his lips as he continues his rant. Now, the only thing you can think of are his lips wrapped around your—

“Ah!” Your hand slips toward the Bunsen burner and, great, now you’ve got a nice burn on your thumb. 

“Oh gosh, are you okay?” He stands quickly. “Let me see.” His fingers graze your palm, igniting a fiercer burn than the actual flame just did. “Run it under cold water, okay?”

In the meantime, he straightens up your station before meeting you at the sink. “Is something wrong?” His words make you jump. “You seem distracted.” 

That’s all it takes. The floodgates open. You rant about the sexist piece of shit Professor Vaughn and his power moves to intimidate you when he knows you’re the best student in the program. About how embarrassed you were in lab yesterday. Last semester when you raised your hand to correct an equation on the board and he gave you a firm talking to about respect after class. 

He watches you carefully, handing over a towel for your hands as you take a steadying breath, fighting back tears.

“Did I ever tell you why I started studying chemistry?” he asks. You sniffle, shaking your head. “My grandfather. He was a baker.” His voice softens, and you look up to find his eyes full of kindness. “Every Saturday, he’d make me work in his bakery. I didn’t mind—it felt like magic, you know? But really, it’s science. It’s all precision, measurements, timing.” 

A smile tugs at his lips. “Once, I tried baking a cake for my mom’s birthday, followed his recipe exactly. Measured the flour, the sugar, the cocoa. When I pulled it out of the oven, it was hard. Flat. I was sure he’d be disappointed, calling it a waste of time and ingredients. I was terrified. But he looked at it, smiled, and told me to try again the next day. When I asked why it didn’t work, he said I needed to ‘feel my way through it.’”

You sit there, the sting from your burn now fading, but your heart’s still aching, wanting something from him—a hug, a kiss, even just a pat on the shoulder.

“If I’d gotten it right the first time, I’d never know what overmixed batter looks like. Or that I like more cocoa than he did. Or that you should coat berries in flour.” His smile creeps up to his eyes. “Seeing how failure could make you better—it made me curious. I wanted to understand why some things worked and others didn’t, why I needed to feel my way through it, to get into the details.” He makes eye contact with you again. “That’s why I went into chemistry. Baking taught me the magic is in the little things—if you’re willing to screw up and keep going.”

Nodding, you smile back. His words hang in the air for a moment, like they’re meant to settle, but something’s missing. 

“All I’m saying is, its okay to fuck things up, okay?” he says, his candidness drawing a chuckle from you. “How else would you learn?”

-

The world’s drained of color—only hazy shades of grey and beige are left. Your palms press against a cold marble countertop with the faint sound of running water echoing in the distance. The reflection of the mirror looks like you, but not quite. The woman in the mirror has her lips painted a dark, sultry brown, a shade you’d never choose. And the outfit is far too dressy for a lecture. Shadows fall where there shouldn’t be any. 

The hallways are unfamiliar, yet you know it's the same building you visit almost every day. It's blurry, like you’re walking through a memory that isn’t yours. 

You look down at the saddle shoes on your feet clicking against the tile floor, unnervingly filling the emptiness. It feels like someone else is controlling your body but you don’t question it. You can’t. Your hand raises, knuckles brushing a wooden door before it creaks open on its own. 

On the other side of the door, Professor Choi faces a green chalkboard. Has that always been in his office? Hurriedly scribbling down equations, he glances between the board and the notebook in his hand. When he looks over his shoulder at you, his eyes soften and a slow smile spreads across his face. “Come in,” he says gently, setting his notebook aside. His voice wraps around you, making the room feel smaller, closer. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your spine tingles. “I know,” you reply, but the words sound hollow, like you’re speaking from somewhere else. 

“Here,” he suggests, holding a piece of chalk out to you. The way he gestures toward the board is magnetic. As you take it from his hand, your fingers brush his. “What do you think of this?” An unfinished equation waits to be solved. His presence looms behind you, close but not quite touching as you reach up to solve it. Your heart pounds, every stroke of the chalk on the board heavier than it should.

“Impressive,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough around the edges. You turn to face him and he’s closer than expected, his warmth radiating against your skin. The air is thick with something unspoken. You step closer, tentative at first, then quicker, more certain. Your lips almost brush his, but he pulls back, his breath catching.

He looks down, your name a whisper on his lips, soft and pained. “I—” His eyes flicker up to meet yours, then fall back down like the weight of your gaze is too much.

“What?” You ask, your voice barely more than a breath. Your eyes dart between his, lingering on his tempting mouth. He leans in again with desire in his eyes. He wants to kiss you. You can feel it. And for a moment you think he might.

But he pulls away, his forehead nearly resting against yours. “I don’t think we should be doing this,” he says, his voice strained, as if saying the words is physically painful for him.

“Why not?” The question slips from your lips before you can stop it, frustration and longing lacing your tone.

His hands flex at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to touch you. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to, or—”

“Why would I feel like that?” you interrupt, your voice impatient. Your heart races, pounding in your ears, drowning out reason.

“I’m your professor,” he breathes out like it’s a curse. His words only fan the flames of the tension building between you. There’s nothing wrong with that, you think to yourself. It’s not like you’re fresh out of high school—you’re a grad student, close to starting the same PhD he earned barely three years ago. He’s no more than five years older.

“I don’t care,” you insist, stepping even closer, your lips a breath away from his. “I want you to kiss me.”

His eyes darken, his resolve faltering as his gaze drops to your lips. “It’s a mistake,” he whispers, but his voice trembles with indecision, trying to convince himself more than you.

“Make the mistake,” you urge, your voice soft but sure. Your hand reaches for his tie, tugging as light as you can just to bring him that much closer. “You said it yourself, it’s okay to fuck things up.”

There’s a beat of silence, so thick it feels as though the room itself is holding its breath, waiting. And in that moment, the space between you seems to collapse, the weight of everything unsaid pulling you closer. 

The millisecond before your lips touch, you breathe awake. 

You bolt straight up, feeling around your soft bed sheets, breathless as your heart pounds from the vividness of it all. For a moment, you linger in the feeling, brushing your fingers over your lips, feeling the warmth of the almost kiss. But reality sinks in and your stomach drops.

Reaching for your phone, you check the time. Great, it’s almost time for his class. But there’s no hazy world to hide in. Skipping class might be an option but an exam reminder drags you out of bed. 

- 

Trudging across campus, your stomach sinks lower with each step. How can you look him in the eye? Dropping your bag to the floor with a thud, you hang your head low. Let’s just get through this exam and get outta here. 

“How’s your hand?” Professor Choi’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding his hands up. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Looking at you like you’re the cutest puppy he’s ever seen, you can’t bring yourself to speak, but you hold out your hand. The second his fingertips touch yours, you flinch and jerk it back. 

“Um—” you start. “Better, thanks.” Turning away from him, you distract yourself with a random notebook from your bag. 

“...You okay? You shouldn’t be nervous about the exam.” When you look up, you’re met with eyes that appear…hurt? 

“No, it’s not that.” That’s not a good answer. “Just…” What would you even say? I had an incredibly vivid—and delicious—dream about you last night and now I need to know how your lips feel in real life? “Cramps.”

“Ah.” He nods and leaves you alone, awkwardly walking to the front of the class to make some announcements and general good wishes before the exam. With your fist pressed to your chin, you refuse to look up, hanging your head low even as he slides you your copy. 

There’s a bright green post-it stuck to it with a note, It’s okay to fuck it up! Your heart races as your eyes dart around searching for him. When you find him, he gives you a soft smile. You return the smile but rush to unstick it before anyone sees, storing it in your notebook for safe keeping. 

-

As you return to your apartment, the post-it stares back at you like you’re the guiltiest son-of-a-bitch in the world. It’s practically calling you a whore. And you can hardly take it anymore. You can’t bring yourself to face him for class a few days later—although skipping feels like a cardinal sin. Soon enough, though, your email dings. 

From: Choi Soobin, PhD I noticed you were absent from class today. I hope everything’s okay. The lecture notes are attached for your reference. Feel free to stop by my office hours with any questions. Professor Choi

Did your heart just flutter? Why are you walking toward his office? When you knock on the door, he stands—more like stumbles—to greet you, “Hi!” 

“Hi, Professor Choi…” You linger in the doorway, clutching your notebook tight to your chest. “Sorry I missed class—”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah—”

“You’re not overwhelmed with coursework, are you?” His eyes search yours, and there’s a softness in his voice that makes it hard to look away.

“No, no, I’m alright. I just…had a migraine this morning,” you say, shrugging slightly. “It’s gone now, though.”

He nods, easing into a warm smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” His gaze doesn’t waver and the intensity makes your pulse quicken. “So, I’m guessing you’re here to go over questions from the lecture?”

“Actually, it’s Professor Vaughn’s class I’m struggling with. His lecture today was…brutal.”

“I’m shocked,” he says sarcastically. “The man’s got a gift for making simple concepts sound like Greek.”

“Exactly,” you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing. “I thought it was me, but he seems to take pride in making everything harder than it needs to be.”

“Trust me, it’s not you,” he says, a glint of warmth in his eyes. “He’s terrible. And annoying. And boring. And I’d tell him that.”

You raise a brow, skeptical. “You wouldn’t.”

“Well…” He breaks into a grin. “Maybe after I reach tenure. Though he may be retired by then.”

“Or dead,” you say matter-of-factly. He looks at you awkwardly then you both laugh, genuinely. There’s an ease to it.

He gestures to your notebook. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

-

“I can’t believe I’m laughing at that,” you say, a giggle escaping your lips. 

“You always laugh at my bad jokes,” he replies, staring at your face a little too longingly. If you were anyone else, he might find some excuse to touch you. Maybe brush a piece of lint off your shoulder, lightly touch your arm while he laughed at something you said, or something as casual as a fist bump. 

If he were any other guy, you’d be much more obvious, making it crystal clear you want him to kiss you right now. But you can’t. You don’t even know how he thinks about you. You’re probably just another student to him. 

“Well, those are all my questions,” you say, awkwardly packing your bag. 

“Yeah, you can, uh…head out…” he trails off as you start to rise from your seat. 

You’re searching for something to say, something to let you stay just a little longer. But nothing comes. He watches you walk toward the door, the silence hanging in the space between you. 

“Pens!” His voice suddenly burst out, loud enough to make you stop mid-step. “They, uh—I went to a conference last week and they gave me a ton,” he says, scrambling to gather a handful from his desk. 

You take them, your fingers brushing against his in a way that feels far too intimate. His eyes lock with yours, the touch sending a ripple of tension through you. “But you’re, uh…picky about your pens, aren’t you?” He asks, his voice softer now, almost unsure.

Laughing quietly, you say, “Yeah, but…that’s okay.” Your words are heavy with subtext you can’t bring yourself to say out loud. “Well, goodbye.” You offer him a smile, stepping back toward the door. “Thanks again.” 

“Yeah. Goodbye,” he says, but his feet shuffle forward as if he’s moving without thinking. Awkwardly reaching for a handshake, he realizes your hands are occupied. Instead, he reaches around you for the door handle, but he gets a tad too close and your brain scrambles. 

Before you can hold yourself back, you drop the pens, letting them clatter to the floor as your arms wrap around his neck. Your lips meet his in a rush, warm and soft. While your eyes close to savor the feeling, his widen in shock before he relaxes into your touch and wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer. 

It’s everything you’ve been holding back—unspoken feelings unraveling in a heartbeat. His lips move against yours with a hunger that surprises you, the world melting away as you lose yourself in the moment. You feel weightless, your pulse racing as his hands grip your waist a little tighter, as though he’s afraid to let you go.

When you finally break apart, breathless and dazed, he presses his forehead to yours, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re never gonna use those pens, are you?” he asks, his voice low and rough, like he’s trying to anchor himself in humor, trying to bring himself back down to earth.

You laugh, shaking your head. “No,” you admit, your heart still pounding. “They’re garbage.”

Before you can think, you kiss him again and this time, he doesn’t hesitate. His mouth crashes into yours with an urgency, like he’s wanted to kiss you since the second he laid eyes on you. His lips are soft, but his kiss is demanding, making up for all the lost moments between you. For those few minutes, nothing else matters—you bask in one of the greatest kisses either of you have ever had. But not for long.

Reality catches up too quickly. You pull away suddenly, breathless and wide-eyed. “Oh my god—” you gasp, backing up, your fingers graze your lips trying to make sense of what just happened. “I’m so sorry—”

“No,” he interrupts quickly, shaking his head. “Don’t be. I—” He’s stumbling through his words, just as lost as you are but neither of you regret it. “I wanted—”

“That was…” You can’t even finish your sentence. It was everything. Too much, too fast, too real. But you can’t take it back.

“I—” He’s trying to find the right words, to reassure you, to tell you he felt it too, that he wanted it just as badly. But he’s as flustered as you are, his voice rough and unsure.

“I’ll just…go throw myself off a bridge now,” you mumble. You can’t even look at him as you make a beeline for the door, your face burning with embarrassment. You think you hear him say something, but the blood rushing in your ears drowns it out.

You leave the room quickly, your heart about to burst through your chest, trying to process what just happened. The kiss lingers on your lips, a mix of exhilaration and terror swirling inside you. It’s too much to handle.

But, hey, there’s one bit of good news. At least he kissed you back. 

-

What the fuck are you supposed to do now? Drop his class? It’s too late in the semester for that. And you need those credits. Wait until the end of the semester to talk to him again? Can you go that long without his lips on yours again? 

Back at your apartment, you rummage through your books to find the university’s code of conduct, hurriedly searching for anything related to “appropriate relationships,” “faculty-student relationships,” “consensual,” blah blah blah, whatever the university has coded sleeping with a professor.

The University strongly urges those individuals in positions of authority not to engage in conduct of an amorous or sexual nature with a person they are, or are likely in the future to be, in a position of evaluating.

Your eyes read over the words, “strongly urges” once more. Not totally against the rules, you suppose. Even if you did wait until the semester was over, you’d need to report it. You wish you could talk with him about it, but bringing this up is tricky. Is it moving too fast? You can’t text him, you don’t have his number. And using your student email to send a message to his faculty email that says, “Oh, by the way, I checked the rules and we’re in the clear to have sex!” is a terrible idea. 

Maybe one kiss in his office doesn’t mean anything. Oh, but it was everything. 

-

After much deliberation, you convince yourself to attend his class a few days later. You’ve brought the code of conduct along, as well as a bright pink post-it sticking out of the book. To avoid any form of small talk with him, you wait outside right until the start of class. 

Along the way to your desk, you silently plop the code of conduct on his desk and scurry away. When you work up the courage to look up at him, he’s flipped to the marked page. Highlighted on the page is the paragraph that “strongly urges” people in positions of authority not to sleep with students. 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. The message couldn’t be clearer, he thought. You’re practically telling him to leave you alone. But when he finally reads the post-it, his heart flutters. Written in your handwriting, it says, It’s okay to fuck it up! complete with a smiley face. 

As much as he tries to fight it, he glances up at you to catch your gaze. And just as the slightest smile appears on his face, a big one appears on yours. You hide it with your palm as you start at the blank page of your notebook. Blinking, he shakes his head and begins his lecture. But how can you concentrate now? 

You’ve gotta give it to him, he delivers his lecture perfectly. If it were you, you’d barely be able to think. Hell, you barely can throughout the whole thing. 

Now that you’ve gotten that smile of permission, you finally let yourself daydream. 

Has his ass always been that cute? Has he always been that tall? Has his voice always been that deep and sexy? 

You don’t even know what he’s talking about, but that’s okay, you can always stop by his office hours. “What do you think?” He asks. 

Oh shit, he’s looking at you for an answer. He can always rely on you to keep class moving along when everybody else is dead silent. You shake out of your thoughts, panic-reading the board to come up with something. It's similar to your discussion you had the last time you went to his office hours. The time that ended in that gorgeous kiss. Throwing together an answer, his eyes brighten as he cheers, “Exactly!” 

Oh my god. He’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. You could just gobble him up. 

-

“So, I suppose we should talk about…” Professor Choi trails off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air like it’s obvious what he’s getting at. And it is. But you stay quiet. You wanna hear him admit it. You raise an eyebrow, playing coy.

You decided to press your luck by visiting his office outside scheduled office hours—right after class—to simply test the waters and gauge his reaction to the code of conduct and that kiss…that incredible kiss. 

“You know…” He gestures vaguely between the two of you, sighing like okay, fine, I guess I’ll say it. “I like you and you like me, right?” His voice dips just slightly, enough for you to notice the hesitation. “Unless I’m totally misreading—”

“No! You’re not…misreading anything,” you’re quick to say, along with a chuckle. Phew—he was worried there for a second. So goddamn cute. “What do you wanna talk about?”

He exhales a small laugh, but his smile is strained, cautious. “I want to make sure you don’t feel…weird about this.” Hand sliding nervously along the edge of his desk, he traces the wood grain before his eyes flick up to meet yours. Truth be told, he’d never do something like this with a student. Never want to make anyone feel pressured. But he never thought he’d feel like this. Giddy and blushy like you’re his first crush. 

“Why would I feel weird?” You tilt your head, genuinely curious. You’ve thought about this—about him—far too much for any of it to feel weird.

“I’m just terrified you feel like you need to do something about this.” You’re taken aback, confusion visibly etched across your face. “You know, because I’m your professor or because I’m in the department and I know your plans for a PhD here.” His voice softens, vulnerability creeping in. “I don’t want it to feel like I’m pushing you into anything.”

“I don’t,” you say gently. “It’s not like that.”

He nods, though the tightness in his jaw doesn’t disappear. “Because if you ever even remotely feel like I’m pressuring you, I want you to tell me. Immediately. I mean it.”

“No,” You shake your head, almost too fast. “I mean, it doesn’t feel like that. Not at all. I’ve thought about this…about us, a lot.” Your voice falters for a moment as his eyes widen, softening in a way that makes your stomach flutter. You weren’t expecting him to look at you like that—so open, so relieved.

His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to reach out to you. “Yeah?”

You nod again, more confidently this time. “But I think we should wait until the semester’s over. Before we…you know…do anything.”

He smiles gently and leans back, visibly more at ease. “I think so too.” 

But you didn’t realize how fucking difficult it would be to get through the last six weeks of the semester. Every class you sit there, thighs pressed together thinking about the dirtiest things you want him to do to you. Every office hour you went to, you could practically swim through the thickness of the tension between you two. 

It didn’t help how cute he was being. Post-its he’d leave on every exam of yours—You’re gonna do great! You’ve got this. Trust your instincts.—encouragement no other student got. You kept every one of them in your bedside table drawer. 

When finals week finally arrives, it wasn’t just about exams; it was about counting the hours until you could finally be with him. Or at least talk to him like he wasn’t your professor. As he handed over your final exam, the familiar green post-it note was stuck to it: Happy Finals Week! 

Your internal scream was so loud, you’re worried your classmates heard it. You’d pre-written a post-it to stick to it once you returned the exam. It had your phone number, a smiley face, and the words: Since you’re not my professor anymore. 

-

After a full day of checking your phone every twenty seconds, you started to give up. Was he just playing you? Did someone else see the note? Did he change his mind? But finally, you receive a text.

hi! this is soobin (professor choi lol). i was wondering if you wanted to get dinner or something?

soobin!! omg yes i would love to get dinner with you :) how’s tomorrow? 

how about right now? if you want, of course! no pressure we can totally wait until tomorrow it’s up to you

You squealed into your pillow, kicking and giggling like an idiot. Should you be flirty back? 

i can be ready in 30 min. 364 oakridge drive. it’s an apartment building- i’ll meet you downstairs. 

be there in 45 :) 

-

Like a perfect gentleman, Soobin meets you at the passenger door, swinging it open with a charming smile before gently closing it behind you. The slow walk up to his front door makes your stomach stir. He has to fumble through his keys to unlock it. 

Once inside, he slips his shoes off quietly, revealing cozy patterned socks that make you smile. Meticulously, he hangs his jacket on a coat tree and places his keys in a speckled clay catch-all that rests on a table next to a houseplant. As he walks toward the kitchen, he glances over his shoulder, his voice low and inviting. “Do you want a drink or something?” The warmth in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat.

You’re drawn to this softer side of him. In class, his tone is bright and dorky. In his office, it’s casual and laid-back. At dinner, it was sweet and charming. But now? Now it’s sultry, almost sexy. Like he can’t wait to be with you but would never, ever pressure you. 

“Hot tea?” You suggest with a steady voice, despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“Sounds good,” he agrees, switching on his tea kettle. In the meantime, you take a look around his much neater than expected apartment. 

The mid-century modern furniture is impeccably arranged—a sleek sofa, a low coffee table, and a stylish armchair with an even more stylish decorative pillow. Perfectly nurtured plants thrive around the room, adding a green vibrancy to the minimalist backdrop, breathing life into the space. A gallery wall above his expensive-looking couch features travel photos, beautiful art, and a few subtly science-inspired pieces. In the corner across the couch is a sleek electric fireplace underneath a huge TV. 

“Who’s this?” you ask, your heart swelling as a fluffy gray cat glares at you through one half-open eye. Her perfectly groomed fur and regal posture make her look like she owns the place. Just then, Soobin steps into the living room, holding two steaming mugs of tea, filling the air with a warm spice. 

“That’s Molly…short for Molecule,” he says. “Don’t worry, she’s sweet.” 

Extending your hand toward the cat, he starts to sniff you. “Hi, M—wait,” you pause, looking up at Soobin with a teasing smile. “Molly, short for Molecule?” He nods, his grin widening. “You’re adorable,” you tell him. Has anyone ever blushed quite like he did just now?

He stares down at his feet, clearly caught off guard. “You’re,” he starts. “Well, you’re cute too.” His sincerity makes your smile grow even stronger.

“Can I sit?” you ask, nodding toward the couch.

“Oh,” his smile falters for a moment. “Yes, of course. Make yourself at home.” You plop down on his couch, settling into the surprisingly soft cushions. Molly clearly doesn’t think the couch is big enough for the two of you, so she strides over to probably the nicest cat tree you’ve ever seen.

You sip your hot tea and your body finally relaxes. As you reach to sit it on the coffee table, he politely asks, “I don’t mean to be a square, but can you use a coaster?” 

“Of course,” you say, complying with the request. “So, tell me,” you begin, clearing your throat. “How’d I do on my final?” Humming, he stands to rummage through his messenger bag slumped over a dining chair. You gasp, “A ninety-seven?” Thumbing through the pages, you find a single red X on possibly the easiest question you’ve had on an exam since high school: What is the atomic number of oxygen? “Are you kidding me?” 

Any attempt to mask your embarrassment is impossible. It only deepens when you look up and catch him already watching you—lips pressed tight, failing miserably to hide a smug, amused smile.  

“I, uh…” You scratch the back of your neck. “I got that one wrong on purpose. You know, so as to not raise any suspicion.” 

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, did you now?” You nod. “That was on the exam just so Toby wouldn’t get a zero.” You nod begrudgingly. “And you put 10! That’s not even close. That’s—”

“Neon,” you grumble. “Yeah I know…” you say, avoiding his eyes as he laughs playfully. 

“Neon’s a noble gas and oxygen is a—”

“Reactive nonmetal,” you cut him off. “I know, okay?” You shove his shoulder playfully, but your grin betrays you. “It was a high-pressure environment. Sitting in an exam room with your professor watching you."

"I barely looked up from my laptop,” he reminds you. 

"Your presence is distracting enough," you shoot back, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Ah, so my intellectual aura threw you off?”

“I dunno…is that what you think, professor?” You ask cheekily. “Maybe it was something else.” You’ve tossed the exam onto the coffee table, moving closer. 

“Like what?” 

“Just…you. You’re distracting.” You smirk, the words slipping out almost involuntarily, like they’ve been waiting on the tip of your tongue. 

Intrigued, he tilts his head and asks, “What about me?” There’s something magnetic in the way he looks at you—like he knows the answer but wants to hear you say it, to savor the way it sounds coming from your lips. 

You hum, tracing the lines of his body with your eyes, mapping out uncharted territory before exploring it. You don’t want to move too fast, but every fiber of your being screams for more. He’s not lighting a fire inside you—he’s setting the whole forest ablaze. Sure, your imagination has been running rampant since he returned your feelings six weeks ago, but now that you’re here, he scrambles every thought.

“Your eyes…” you say while yours flick over his face, taking in every curve, every freckle, every lash. “They’re so pretty.” 

A smile—small but real—tugs at the corners of his lips. The kind that’s private, meant just for you. His eyes darken as he leans in, the space between you shrinking. You glance down, noticing the way his long fingers curl around the mug handle. There’s something almost hesitant in the way he holds it. You take it from him gently, setting it atop a coaster as quietly as you can.

“Your hands…” you whisper, fingers barely brushing his knuckles, tension coiled under his skin. They’re hands that have worked, experimented, written things down—hands you want on you. Guiding one to your thigh, the squeeze he returns sends a shudder through you. 

Everything between you is electric. Your breaths come faster now, more desperate. Every inch you move toward him is a test, a slow-motion collapse of restraint.

“Your legs…” A soft breathless chuckle escapes as you glance down. His lips part like he’s about to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. Boldness surges through you like a current and you hike one leg over both of his, straddling him. The shift is seismic. His hands move to your hips, gripping you, afraid to let go. The heat of his touch spreads through you, anchoring you in place, though it feels like everything around you is spinning.

“And your lips…” you murmur, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his. “Oh my god, those fucking lips.” You can’t stop staring at them, just a breath away now, soft and wet. Your pulse races. 

You cup his face, lifting his chin until his eyes meet yours again. His pupils are blown wide, the desire in them unmistakable. Your thumb brushes his bottom lip, and the moment stretches, suspended. You lean in just enough to feel his breath on your lips. 

“Kiss me,” you whisper.

And he does.

It isn’t tentative—it’s dam-breaking. Like he’s been starving for it, holding back for years. His lips are soft but urgent as his hands tighten around your hips to pull you closer. You taste jasmine tea on his lips, a subtle sweetness mingling with the spice of his cologne—clove, pepper, something dark and addictive. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper against his lips. “I can’t believe I had to wait so long to kiss you again.” You kiss him again and he moans sweetly into your mouth. Just as the kiss deepens, he retreats, his breath ragged. “You okay?” 

Nervously nodding, he says, “Yeah,” but his eyes flicker away. He tries to kiss you again, but you place your hand on his chest, gently stopping him.

“Wait,” you say, eyes searching his face. “What’s going on? Am I being too—”

“No,” he says, almost a little too urgently. “It’s not that. It’s just…” His hands fall to the couch. Bracing to tell the truth, he squeezes his eyes shut before adding, “I need to tell you something.” You sit back on your heels, still in his lap but giving him room to speak. 

“What is it?” You ask softly. 

“There’s this thing… I haven’t—uh…” He stumbles over the words, his fingers twitching at his sides.

“Soobin?” you ask, your voice gentle but steady. That’s the first time you’ve called him by his first name. It feels utterly…vulnerable. “Are you a virgin?” The question is delicate. Shutting his eyes again, he takes a deep breath. 

“No,” he says. “Well, not exactly.” You narrow your eyes at him. What is that even supposed to mean? “It’s just…it’s been a while. And before then, I hadn’t had a lot of sex. And I haven’t had any…recently.” 

“How long?” you encourage, your eyes softening.

“A year.” 

You hum softly in acknowledgement, watching his confidence falter. Instead of pulling back, you lean forward, trailing slow, deliberate kisses along his neck. He trembles under your touch, a soft gasp escaping his lips, your hands moving all over his body, claiming him.

“Oh, Professor Choi,” you whisper, your voice dripping with heat and promise. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”

-

As your breath slows, you sit up and let your hand linger over his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm. “Tell me,” you start. “What do you like?” 

“Um,” he swallows, trying to force the lump down his throat. He’s so hesitant but he finally says, “Touching.” 

“You touching my body or me touching yours?” 

He exhales shakily. “The first,” he says, confirming with a squeeze to your hips. 

You hum against his ear. What are you gonna do with him? Tease him forever? Let him have his way with you? You ask, “Why don’t you take my shirt off for me?” 

Gracing his hands over your arms, he grounds himself again before asking, “You sure?” 

“I’m sure.” You nod, guiding his hands to the top button of your blouse, letting him slip it through the buttonhole. One by one, he exposes more of your skin, his heart thumping harder with each passing second. Pushing the silky fabric past your shoulders until your top half is only covered by a bubblegum pink mesh bra, leaving almost nothing to the imagination—except for the red embroidered hearts over your nipples.

After easing the shirt out from your trousers, you reach back to pull at the sleeves, letting the shirt fall to the floor. He slips his finger under one of your bra straps, pulling it to the side, but you stop him. “Wait. It’s your turn.” 

Tugging on his tie, you slip it through the collar and unbutton his dress shirt. Seeing his body bare in front of you for the first time, you’re practically drooling. You indulge in running your hands all over his body, lean with subtle muscles, from his chest to the bottom of his abs. 

“How come you got to touch me if I didn’t get to touch you?” He asks innocently. 

“You’re right,” you chuckle. “I’m sorry.” You smile and sit up to press your palms against his and let your fingers intertwine. Your heart melts and you fear you may throw up. “Did you want to take my bra off first?” He nods. Fumbling fingers reach behind you to snap it off, letting it fall to the couch. As he sees your bare tits, his eyes widen and he lets out the cutest little Oh. 

He’s hesitant to do anything. You have to guide his hands to massage your tits—and they’re the perfect size for you. 

“You’re so…soft,” he says, looking up at your eyes, like he’s not sure if that was okay to say. 

“You like them?” He nods eagerly. Experimentally swiping a thumb across a nipple, it hardens at his touch while you let out a sharp gasp. 

“You like that,” he says matter-of-factly. “Can I taste?” Nodding, you lean forward, welcoming his lips. His body finally relaxes as he moans against your skin. Circling the tip of his tongue around your nipple, he’s teasing you. And oh my god do you love it. 

One of your hands threads through his hair and you stuff the other down your pants, but he grabs your wrist softly. 

“That’s not fair,” he whispers and you concede, keeping your hands to yourself. With one hand, he stuffs your tit back in his mouth while the other plays with your other nipple. His hot, wet mouth on one nipple and his teasing fingers playing with the other sends waves of pleasure through you that may send you over the edge.

If you don’t do something to ease your need, you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to take this. You resort to grinding against his hard cock, making his hips buck. 

Lifting your legs off his, you swing around to sit next to him, palming his cock over his trousers. Desperately clawing at the waistband, you unbutton and unzip his pants, encouraging him to kick them off. He stands to slip them off and as you reach for the band of his boxers, he stops you. 

“Your turn,” he whispers. And you comply. But not without a show. Standing slowly, you push him to the couch and turn your back to him. As you push your pants down, your ass looks delicious in your thong that matches your bra—mesh bubblegum pink with red trim. When you turn back, he’s fisting himself over his underwear. 

“Nuh-uh, that’s not fair,” you say. Returning next to him on the couch, you feel him over his boxers and your mouth waters. Goddamn you can’t wait for him to be inside you. “Do you have any lube?” He nods and shortly returns with a barely used tube. 

While he stays standing, you sit up on the couch, running your hands across his muscular thighs and perfect pelvis. Looking up at him, his eyes are bright, darting all over your body like he’s afraid to miss something. He fiddles with his waistband, flipping the elastic over softly. A small smile flicks across your lips before you tug his boxers down his legs, leaving trails of kisses along the way.

Encouraging him to sit down, you look down at his cock, long and hard and dripping with precum. Finally, you drag your fingertips up and down his cock before squeezing him. He moans like you’ve never heard a man moan before. Laying your head on his shoulder, you sprinkle kisses all over his skin, finding a spot behind his ear that makes him squirm. 

He hisses and—almost involuntarily—wraps one of his hands around yours to use his long fingers to guide your hand up and down. There’s something magical about someone with so little experience telling—no, showing—you what to do with his body. It’s electrifying. He hasn’t been touched in so long that he’s desperate to get off and can’t waste time with words. But no words need to be shared. His movements tell you what speed he likes. 

Snaking his other arm around you, he stuffs his fingers in your hair and clenches his fist, subconsciously tugging the strands. His lips are right against your ear, breathing rapidly and heavily and he can hardly take it anymore. You watch his chest rise and fall as he clenches your hair, moaning getting quicker, he squeaks and whines. 

Hurriedly pressing his lips to your temple, you can’t take your eyes off his cock as he shoots short spurts of cum all over his stomach. It takes a moment for him to catch his breath before he gives you a sweet smile. 

You don’t let up with kisses all over his body. Sprinkling kisses here and there while he cleans himself up with a hand towel he’d brought with him when he got the lube from his bedroom. Once he’s clean, he slouches down the couch. 

“Will you sit on my face?” His eyes are ever so sweet and innocent, like he’s finally able to test all his fantasies. “Please…” You hum like you’re only considering it, but we all know you’ll say yes. “Please, mommy?” Everything halts. 

“Mommy?” 

“F-fuck—” he sits up, ears turning redder than you’ve ever seen them—anyone’s ears for that matter. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first—”

“No, no…” you say gently, cupping his jaw to make him look at you. You can’t help yourself—you press your lips to his again and you lose yourself in his intoxicating kiss. But you break it and say, “Keep calling me that.” 

“M-mommy?” You hum. Before you give him what he asked for, you shove your tit in front of his lips. He doesn’t need to be told what to do. His plush lips wrap around your hard nipple while he thumbs the other. It feels like fucking heaven.

“That’s my good boy.” He lets out the most pathetic whimper you’ve ever heard in your goddamn life. His eyebrows furrow, looking up at you through his lashes. “Are you my good boy?”

“Yes,” he says, nodding eagerly. “Yes, mommy. Of course.” 

“Soobin,” you breathe in disbelief, dropping your head back. “You’re so sexy, I swear to god.” 

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head. “That’s you.” He smiles. “Will you please sit on my face now?” He slouches down again without waiting for an answer. “Please.” You hike your leg up to rest your foot against the back of the couch, gently hovering over him. But he wraps his hands around your hips to yank you down. As he flicks his tongue over your clit, you might be embarrassed by the volume of your moan, but there’d be no reason to. 

“I thought you said you didn’t do this a lot?”

“Well,” he takes a deep breath. “This was always what I was best at.” You chuckle. “Wait, no—” he shakes his head. “I’m good at the other stuff too. I hope.” Returning his tongue to your clit, you gasp and fall forward, bracing yourself against the back of the couch. He seizes the opportunity to get fully entranced in your taste. 

There's an impossible contrast—your body melts, muscles soft and pliant as you surrender to the pleasure but, at the same time, goosebumps prickle along your skin, sharp and electric. Warmth and vulnerability layered with a thrill that leaves you shivering, somehow both at ease and on edge.

But then he snakes his hand behind your ass to tease your asshole with his pinky. And it's overwhelming. Your knees are so weak you can hardly hold yourself up. The way his hands feel on your body, touching you in all the right places, flicking his tongue perfectly, moaning so temptingly along with the built up tension—it is so much. So. Fucking. Much. 

It builds in your stomach—teetering on the edge and god you only hope he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. But you can’t form words to tell him that. But he knows. 

And then it happens. 

You feel like you’re floating—or falling may be more accurate—as your orgasm washes over you, thighs quite literally quivering around his face as you come undone on top of him. For him. Unable to hold yourself up any longer, you roll and plop to the couch and he sloppily replaces his tongue with his fingers. You make a mental note to show him exactly where your clit is later. How is it that he found it so easily with his tongue but missed it with his hand? You guess he was right—oral is what he’s best at. Your chest heaves with your deep breaths as you come down from your high, watching him smirk at you. 

“Oh my god,” you say breathlessly. There’s a beat of silence. “What the fuck?”

“What?” He chuckles. 

“I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“I told you I’m good at it.” 

“Where’s your bedroom? This couch is too small for what we’re about to do.” 

Once he shuts his bedroom door to keep Molly out, he pulls you by your waist to press his bare body to yours and kisses you again so romantically it takes your breath away. 

“Wow,” he whispers against your lips. “You’re so beautiful.” 

“Oh my god, shut up.” You go straight back in for more kisses. But you break it— “But not literally, though. Please keep saying stuff like that.” You giggle together, slowly falling toward the bed until you’re gently laid on your back and he’s over top of you. 

“Can I, like, kiss all over your body?”

“Of course,” you say. “You don’t need to ask.”

And then he does exactly what he wants. Starting at your lips, he moves to the corner of your mouth, trailing behind your ear and down your neck. The way his breath tickles your neck sends shivers down your spine and you need more, more, more. 

As you lay there, simply basking in the feeling of him taking his time exploring every inch of you with the softest lips you’ve ever felt, you can’t help but be giddy. He’s tentative in some areas and eager in others. After he kisses the sensitive skin under your breast, he carefully observes your reaction. When he delicately presses his lips to your pelvis, his eyes flutter up to yours nervously. 

“Soobin,” you say breathlessly. He hums against your tummy, shaky hands running up your thighs. “I need you please.”

“You need me?” You nod. “Where do you need me, mommy?” You groan, arching your back, not even knowing where to start. You need him everywhere. 

“Inside me,” you say. “Please, I’ve been thinking about it for so long.” 

“Have you?” He asks innocently, using his fingers to play with the folds of your pussy so casually, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “I should be the impatient one.” But you know why he’s taking it so slow. He’s nervous as hell right now. 

Aligning his cock with your entrance, he slowly pushes himself inside you. And it's utterly exhilarating. For both of you. He falls forward, framing your face with his forearms, digging his nose into your neck. 

“Fuck…” He whispers shakily. Your nails drag down his back at his inexperienced hip rolls. “Oh my god, what are you doing to me?” Despite his inevitable desperation, his thrusts are controlled. He’s trying his very best at least. But his cock is so fucking perfect, you figure he’d make you feel good no matter what he does. Although, a little part of you thinks about how good he’ll be at fucking you in a few months after a little practice. Or lots of practice. 

He whispers swears, your name, and mommy…over and over again. Then he sits up, looking down at your body. Awkwardly fumbling as if he wants to say something, his mouth isn’t cooperating with his brain. He slowly comes to a stop, sliding out of you and barely touches your calf. 

“Can you, uh…would you mind, um—” 

"Do you wish to see me on my knees? Is that it, darling?"

“Yes, mommy…please, I’ve never—” 

“You’ve never had someone on their knees for you?” You ask and he silently shakes his head. “You’ve been such a good boy for me. Of course I’ll get on my knees for you.” You oblige to his request, turning yourself around and arching your back to give him a perfect view of your ass. He groans at the simple sight of your body. He swipes his hands over the swell of your ass, squeezing here and there. 

He clears his throat and asks, “What do I do?”

“Oh,” you chuckle lightly. “Just get on your knees and guide yourself in. Make sure it’s the right hole,” you say light-heartedly, trying to ease the tension a bit. 

But when he’s finally inside you again, it’s heaven. And he indulges in himself a bit—thrusting faster, harder, making your ass jiggle. The lewd sounds of his cock in your wetness and his hips smacking your skin makes it all the more erotic. But it doesn’t take long before—

“I like it better the other way, I think,” he says matter-of-factly. “Is that okay?”

“Of course that’s okay, babe,” you say, flipping back over and spreading your legs. And he slides right back inside you, letting his head fall back. But your tits bouncing are simply too tempting not to look at. They’re why he prefers it this way, so why not look at them as much as he can? He retreats a bit, opening his mouth like he wants to ask you something but he’s too shy. 

“What is it, baby?”

“I was just wondering if you…if you could—would you want to be on top?” His tone is genuinely sweet. “Like what position do you like?”

“Missionary’s my favorite too,” you say. “But I would, hm, I would really like to be on top for a bit.” Switching quickly, you align yourself over his cock and sink down on him so, so, so slowly, letting out a big sigh of relief. “Oh my god, Soobin. Are you fucking kidding me?” You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. The feeling stretches all the way to your toes. “I need to hump you like crazy for a bit,” you say with a chuckle. He nods like that’s perfectly fine with me, mommy. 

And you do exactly that—bounce on his cock as fast as your body lets you, relieving that built-up tension. Over the last few months, you wanted to jump his bones every time you were in the same room and that feeling never let up, like there was a tension thermometer in your body that was constantly stuck at boiling. 

But perhaps it was a bit more painful for him because an occasional rut up into you isn’t enough anymore. He holds your hips to keep you in place, fucking up into you as fast as he can. Head dropping back, he groans, your name leaving his lips. 

“Mommy?” His eyebrows furrow, looking utterly pathetic. “Let’s switch back. Please.” Hiking your leg over his hips, you land roughly on your back. Gently grabbing your hands, he pins them above your head, aligns his cock at your entrance, and slides inside you, rolling his hips so deliciously. As he kisses you, he swallows your moans. Trailing down your neck, he whispers, “Please tell me I’m making you feel good, Mommy.” 

Your eyes roll back in pleasure and you say, “Fuck, you’re making me feel so good.” 

Slowing his thrusts, he asks, “What else would you like me to do?” Smiling up at him, you rub his thighs. Waiting for an answer, he covers your collarbone in kisses, making his way back to your ear. After nibbling gently on your earlobe, he whispers, “Tell me how to make you feel even better.” Oof. Shivers. 

“Rub my clit,” you say. He sits up, fumbling with his fingers. “Use your thumb,” you giggle. “Wait.” Reaching for his hand, you let spit pool in your mouth before wrapping your lips around his thumb. Sucking on it, he looks at you like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Then he follows your instructions, rubbing your clit with his thumb while he fucks you, listening intently to every instruction, every a little to the lefts, up a little bit mores, and he never gets impatient. 

Your back arches impossibly high and you say, “I’m close, babe. Don’t stop.” You rub your own nipple, but he moves your hand out of the way, wetting his thumb with his own spit before circling it for you. 

Everything has been building to this moment. Staring at him in every lecture, longing for his touch. That kiss in his office was just the start of your addiction. Attending his office hours didn’t help, but you couldn’t stay away. You needed to be closer to him. To feel heat radiating off his body. To smell his spicy cologne. To watch his fingers wrap around his pen and wish they were wrapped around something else. 

All of it was for this moment right here. Cumming around his cock for the first time. You can’t wait any longer. There’s a white hot burning in your belly that’s getting more furious by the second. His name leaves your mouth in a yelp before fireworks explode inside you. 

Your legs shake around his waist as he fucks you through it, not changing a single thing. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you grab his wrist to stop him from rubbing your nipple to make sure it’s the most perfect orgasm you’ve ever had—not too much and not too little. 

And it’s neither. Instead, it’s perfection. You knew it would be. It seems to last forever but somehow not long enough. As soon as you finish, you miss it. 

Catching your breath, your vision clears up as you look up at him with a smile. He shyly asks, “How was that?” 

You take a deep breath and say, “Oh my god, that was so good.” Rubbing soothing strokes up and down your thighs, you can tell he’s getting impatient. But still—he’d never pressure you in a million years. 

Bending to kiss your neck again, he whispers, “Can I cum inside you?” You nod frantically. 

“Please.” 

“I have condoms if you want.” You think about it for a second. Really. You would love nothing more than to feel him fill you up. But it’s risky. “Mommy…” His hips slowly start moving again, encouraging a decision from you. “What are you thinking?”

“Cum inside me, please. Wanna feel all of you,” you say, rubbing his back. He smiles, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss that sends your head reeling. He sits up and squeezes your thighs over and over, adoring the way your body feels in his hands. Soft and squishy and intoxicating. Licking your own thumb, you pinch and rub one of his nipples, making his mouth drop open. He didn’t even think of having his own nipples played with. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he gasps. You praise him, Cum inside me, baby. You’ve been such a good boy for me. I want you to feel so good for me, okay? And he’s rutting his hips into you roughly, using your body for his own pleasure. You simply can’t get enough. You want him inside you forever and ever. “You’re…” he trails off. “You’re gonna make me cum, Mommy.”

“Go ahead. Cum for me.” Like it’s a command, his hips stutter and his cum fills you up, warm and sweet and heavenly. Swears and other inaudible words you hope are compliments spill out of his mouth. Falling forward, he digs his face into your neck once more, twitching until he comes to a stop, taking deep breaths. 

You expect a warm smile to echo his warm cum filling you up but he stays put. In fact, he doesn’t move or say anything for quite some time. So much time passes that his cock has slipped out of you on its own, his cum leaking down the swell of your ass. 

You finally break the silence, “Are you okay?” He nods awkwardly. “Look at me.” He shakes his head. “What’s wrong?” He still won’t budge. “Soobin, what’s going on?”

“I’m embarrassed,” he whines.

“Huh? About what?” 

“Calling you mommy,” he finally sits up. “I was just caught up in the moment—I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—”

“Honey,” you giggle, sitting up with him. “I told you I liked it.” 

“You weren’t just saying that?”

“I don’t think I would’ve came that hard if I didn’t like it.” 

His eyes brighten before adding, “I guess so.” It genuinely was one of the strongest orgasms you’ve ever had. Surely, he has to know that, right? But wait— 

“Was it good for you?”

“Oh my god,” he’s finally relaxed a little, peppering your face with kisses. “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had, I swear.” He stands, walking into his en-suite to get you a towel, damp with warm water. “So…” he starts awkwardly. “Should we, like, report this to the dean?” 

“Is that your way of asking me to be exclusive?” He blushes as you brush some of his hair behind his ear. “Because my answer is absolutely.” You press your lips together. “Although, can we hold off for a while? Just until next semester starts?”

“Be in our own little world for a bit?” He smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist. “You’re taking a break until next semester, right? Are you working right now?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I got a bunch of scholarships to pay for school,” you say proudly. 

“Why am I not surprised?” 

“Because I’m the smartest person you know,” you say cheekily. 

“No lectures until next semester, so I’m pretty much free.” He smiles, clearly wanting to say something more, but bites his tongue. “Can I ask you something?” You nod. “This may be moving way too fast, but do you maybe wanna spend the holidays here? With me?”

The next few weeks are a whirlwind. Both of you admit it’s too fast. But neither of you care. The fireplace roars as you decorate his Christmas tree together, wrapped presents, baked cookies, everything you could think of that ooey-gooey couples do. 

And of course, nightly sex is a bonus. You simply can’t get enough of each other. And you just about lose it when you walk into the kitchen on Christmas morning. He’s standing at the counter wearing a Santa hat, flannel pajama pants, and a black tank top making your favorite tea. 

“Ah, there she is! Good morning,” he says with a smile. You take a plate full of chocolate chip waffles from him. But not before he kisses you. Cupping your cheek, he pulls you into perhaps the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had. You can feel his smile on your lips. 

And everything feels absolutely perfect. You think you may be dreaming, but he feels so very real at this moment. And his voice is clear as day, “Merry Christmas.”