#i want everyone to shut up. i can not press x fast enough

[lecliss]

My god do I want to violently choke every single genshin character to death except Razor and Zhongli. Childe can live but he's on thin fucking ice until I understand what the fuck is going on with him.

[k-hotchoisan]

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

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

his favourite

<prof!san x fem!reader>

Prof Choi likes playing favourites.

You’re his favourite.

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

Word count: 12.3K

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

apply for taglist here!

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

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

“Why not try for the department chair?”

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

“Who?”

“Professor Choi?”

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

“Why the fuck would I try him?” 

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

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

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

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

Right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who did you get?”

“Choi San.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

That sealed your fate. 

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

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

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

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

Until now that is. 

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

You had to collect yourself before Prof Choi collected you. 

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

“Come in.”

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

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

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

Fuck, he’s still so handsome.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re usually in a little earlier.”

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

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

“What’s this?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the hell were you thinking?

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

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

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

“Huh?” Is all you manage to reply. 

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

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

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

“So you’re single”, you echo.

He nods, “I’m single.” 

What is this strange feeling of relief?

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

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

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

You glare at him. 

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

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

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

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

You did? “I did?”

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

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

“Is that why you kept-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re going off with Choi Jongho?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow hard, your body still frozen in spot. 

“What do you think about him then?” 

“Jongho? I was just-“

“No. Choi San.”

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

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

“I t-think Prof-“

“San. Choi San”, he corrects you. 

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

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

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

“Mmhm.”

“And he’s really so-“

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you Prof Choi. See you tomorrow.”

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

“See you too, y/n.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You try out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Prof. Hey cutie.” 

San blinks. What did he just call you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, Is San not going?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cute? You think Jongho is…cute?” 

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

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

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

“Well, I mean-“

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

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

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

“Prof-“

“No. It’s sir.”

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

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

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Yes, sir.”

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

“Good girl.”

Of course, he claims it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you asking?”

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

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

“Y/n?”

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

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

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

You laugh softly at his words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You force a smile and shake your head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n”, you hear San call you. 

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

“Come here. Help me look at this.”

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

And it definitely seems to be ticking him off. 

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

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

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

He’s making you face him now. 

You’re still not giving him eye contact. 

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

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

Shit. You know that clear as day. 

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

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

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

And you’re finally looking right at him. 

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

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

He leans in closer. 

“Then why are you avoiding my eye contact?”

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

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

San is waiting for you to continue. 

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

“And?”

“It made me want…more.”

There’s a moment of silence.

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

It makes your heart flutter. 

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

This is not right. This is so dangerous. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir, I’m not sure-“

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

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

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

God, Choi San thinks he’s in heaven. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please what, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Especially one of them. 

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

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

He bites his cheek. 

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

He just doesn’t know how to tell you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck just happened?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S-sir…!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. Oh god. 

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

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

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

Your mind is a complete puddle. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now on your knees.” 

You’ve never dropped to your knees so fast.

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

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

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

“Look at me”, he instructs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-yes sir.” 

“How are you feeling?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We need to talk-“

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

But you’re stubborn. 

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

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

“We didn’t kiss”, you reiterate. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But why would he do that for?”

“He was trying to rile you up.”

“For what?”

“To see if you felt anything for me?”

“By kissing you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me what?”

“That I’m in love with you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The moment I received your teaching assistant application.”

📚 Bonus Epilogue 📚

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

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

“Yes?” 

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

San nods, taking the papers from her. 

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

“Prof, you’re married?”

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

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

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

“I am.”

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

“Tell me more then”, she asks. 

San scoffs playfully, turning his gaze to her. 

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

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

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

network: @atzhouse @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Texture

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Masterlist

Word Count: 1,635

Summary: You being obsessed with Bucky and watching him every day during meetings, lingering around too long when you see him, all because of a dumb tiktok you saw late one night.

Warnings: 18+, f!masturbation, oral m!receiving, worshipping the man that is Bucky Barnes.

A/N: i saw this on tiktok and couldn’t help myself, imagine what’s your fantasy by Ludacris, ‘I wanna lick you from your head to your toes’

It was late and you had work in the morning. You shouldn’t be mindlessly scrolling through tiktok, your eyes were starting to burn from the leds that lit up your face. You told yourself five more minutes, that ended up turning into forty five. With one last swipe of your thumb your eyes read the words on the screen.

“You can look at any object and your tongue already knows what it would feel like to lick it”

Your brain starts rapid firing. You look around the objects in your dark room. For the most part it was true. You could feel the cool clay surface of the lamp on your bedside table, the rubber nubs on your tv remote.

You shut your phone off, laying it facedown underneath your pillow. You move to lay on your back and when your eyes close you see black vibranium. The words dance in the back of your mind. You weren’t shy on the fact you had a crush on the super soldier, but you never thought about him this way.

The thought of running your tongue down his neck, you could feel his stubble tickling you. You felt a chill run over you and your nipples hardened. You could almost taste the sweat if you thought about it hard enough.

You run your hand across your stomach, slipping your fingers in your underwear. You fantasized about every part of Bucky you could lick. But you could only picture one, his bionic arm.

Sure you’d thought about him pressing you up against a wall with it, holding you down, squeezing you tight enough to leave bruises. But you’d never touched yourself at the thought of cold metal running over your tongue.

You use your left hand to finger fuck yourself, giving it a taste test. When your fingers entered your mouth you imagined Bucky, spreading your pussy open then shoving his fingers down your throat. You push your fingers harder on your tongue, holding your jaw tightly, it helped when you closed your eyes and imagined it was metal. You came fast, not being able to stop your right hand from stimulating yourself.

You run to the bathroom, brushing your teeth and cleaning yourself up. You don’t know what came over you, you got desperate, doing anything to make it feel real. You look at yourself in the mirror, you can’t meet your own eye, instead you focus on the tiny bruise forming under your chin, in the shape of your thumb.

You wake up early the next morning, needing to apply more makeup than usual to hide your late night activity. You found yourself staring at Bucky during the morning debrief, taking in every detail of his face, neck and hair. The man dressed like a swat team member at all times, revealing nothing. He gloved his hands, even here, where everyone knows and accepts him.

You found him in the kitchen later that day, glove free. He was setting a mug down in the sink, when you walked in. “Hey.” You say, not wanting to make things awkward. “Hi.” He says, in a customer service kind of way. Like he’s only saying it to be cordial. You open the fridge and fish out your lunch that you brought, a chicken salad, it was your go to for an effortless lunch.

You make yourself comfortable at the counter, chomping away at the lettuce that filled the plastic container. You watched him as he washed the dishes remaining in the sink. You smile to yourself, he’s such a gentleman.

You tentatively watch as his vibranium hand holds on to the dishes. It’s fluid, no robotic tics in his fingers. You know your eyes were locked on him for too long when he clears his throat. “You taking notes on how to wash dishes?” He says, meticulously drying off the gleaming metal.

“Sorry.” You say, averting your gaze from him. You stare at the slices of grilled chicken, not feeling hungry anymore. You got caught red handed.

“That wasn’t an answer.” He says, laying the hand towel on the counter, putting his hands on his hips. “I saw you this morning too.”.

Your breath hitches, he doesn’t know about last night, he couldn’t, you needed to relax yourself and try to lie your way out of this. “I wasn’t staring at you, I’ve just been zoned out a lot lately.” You hope that works.

Bucky nods his head, “That makes sense, or at least it would, if I couldn’t sense how tense you are. That’s the opposite of zoned out. I heard your heart beating faster when I turned around. You’re in the moment, not your head.” He reads you like a book.

You don’t know what to say, do you spill every detail or do you just admit to your school girl crush. You meet his eyes “I just think you’re cute Bucky. Is that a crime?” You laugh, you couldn’t feel your face since all of the blood rushed to it. You close your salad, placing it back into the fridge. “You caught me.” You raise up your hands defensively.

Bucky doesn’t react, almost as if he doesn’t believe you. Even though you didn’t lie, you get nervous, like he was about to catch you up.

“Is that so?” He says leaning against the counter, crossing his arms in front of his chest. You watch as the metal plates slide into place.

“Mhm.” You can’t even form a sentence as you watch the veins in his other hand strain. Your tongue moves against the roof of your mouth as you imagine the metal shoved in there. You’re close enough to see the details, micro bolts, chips and scratches in the black finish. You can feel it all with the tip of your tongue.

Bucky breaks you from your trance. “I can smell you, y’a know?” Your eyebrows furrow, you thought you used the right amount of perfume this morning.

He steps closer to you, using his body to press you against the steel refrigerator. “Why would your pussy be so wet, if it’s just an innocent little crush?”. You can’t get out of this, so why not go for it.

“I was looking at your hands, since they’re the only part of you’re not covered in black polyester.” You give him a smug look. “Watching my hands made you this wet?” He slips his flesh hand into your panties, curling them at your entrance. You nod, building up the courage to grab his hand, sucking on the metal fingertips. It’s different than what you imagined, warmer.

Bucky closes his eyes as he pictures his cock in your mouth instead of his fingers. “I was imagining what you taste like,” you lean forward and lick a strip up his neck, it’s exactly how you imagined. “, what it felt like to run my tongue all over your body.” You say, surprised by your own confidence.

He pushed his fingers inside of you, liking the dirty words spilling from you. You moan, reaching out to grasp his black vest. “Let me touch you.” You say, pulling his hand from your pants. He grabs your arm and drags you out of the kitchen.

You’re thrown on his bed before you know it, he climbs on top of you, going in for a kiss. You turn your head, not letting his lips meet yours. “Let me.” You wiggle out from under him, standing up.

He sits in the middle of the bed, his feet dangling off the side. You drop to your knees and begin to untie his boots. He gives you a confused look when your remove them and move up his legs to his belt, unhooking it and removing the button on his black cargo pants.

You look him in the eyes as you pull down the zipper. You remove his pants swiftly, moving to push his vest off, you have to get up on the bed, straddling his bare legs. He looks up at you, amazed by you taking the lead. You peel off his black t shirt and he’s left in his socks and boxers.

You move back off the bed, admiring him splayed out. “You’re so perfect.” You say, running your hands up his thighs. You lean down to kiss each of his knees.

You keep your eyes locked on his face as you kiss up his thighs, ghosting over the large bulge in his boxers. He takes a shallow breath when you kiss his hips. Like he’d never experienced it before. “So beautiful.” You say, licking the happy trail growing up his stomach.

Bucky’s been getting a vantage point of view from resting on his elbows. You put an end to that by pushing him down, making him face the ceiling. You press your lips to both of his biceps, hovering over him when you finish.

“Can I kiss you now?” You say, satisfied with making your way up his body. He nods, keeping his hands to his sides while you devour his mouth, biting his lip and sucking on his tongue.

“I’m gonna take real good care of you, okay?” You ask before you get back on your knees. Bucky gets back on his elbows, not wanting to miss the show.

You free him from his tight boxers, letting him spring up towards your face. You take a moment to take a mental image of him, laid out so vulnerable. “Thank you, tiktok.” You whisper to yourself, grateful that a video effected you like it did, or else you wouldn’t be here right now, trying not to choke as you force every inch of him into your mouth. You wanted him to be proud and satisfied, even if it meant a sore throat.

[emiphemeral]

like sexy dynamite — a.donaldson

pairings; 2019 art donaldson x fem!reader

warnings; 18+ smut, mean!art, dom!art, sub!reader, semi-public sex, p in v

a/n; twas feeling festive... everyone thank @martiansodas-blog for convincing me to write this

you were, by some peoples standards, art donaldson's "controversially young" girlfriend. of course, you didn't find it controversial at all. clearly neither did he, since he was the one who approached you first anyway. the main perk of having a wealthy older boyfriend however, was access to his big beautiful house.

art had asked you to move in with him months prior, so it wasn't difficult to get him to throw a fourth of july party. it wasn't difficult to get anything with art, not when it's you. you simply had to bat your eyes and he would melt.

so there you were, sipping on some probably spiked punch and giggling with a few friends. trashy pop music played over a speaker, provided by some shitty college dj you had hired. it wasn't meant to be a good party, it was meant to be a fun party.

you and your friends names get called from across the room;

"guys, come on, they're setting off fireworks soon!"

your group starts to eagerly head to the backyard, until a grip on your arm stops you.

"hey baby. mind if i steal you for a minute?" art mutters in your ear.

he begins to pull you away before you can respond, barely having time to mouth 'ill be there soon' before you get dragged around the corner. he brings you to a stop in the luckily empty kitchen.

"are you oka-"

art interrupts you with a sloppy and desperate kiss, hands tightly gripping your waist.

"do you have any idea what you've been doing to me all night? running around in that whoreish dress?" he growls pressing you against the countertop.

"shit- art- someone could see-" you pant as he mouths at your neck.

"everyone's out watching the fireworks. like we would be, if you weren't such a fucking tease."

you gasp as art flips you around, pressing your torso into the cold marble countertop. he reaches under your dress, lightly rubbing your soaking wet cunt.

"this is what you wanted, isn't it? for me to bend you over where anyone could see? so wet over the thought of being seen as what you are, a slut."

you whimper as the blonde pushes your dress up, just enough for him to get a good look at your pussy. he curses under his breath at the sight, unzipping his pants and pulling out his already leaking cock as fast as possible.

he rubs his tip through your folds for just a moment before slamming into you. you let out a loud moan, muffled by his hand clamping over your mouth.

"c'mon baby, wouldn't want to ruin their party with your trampiness, would you?" art grunts, not letting up for a second.

the hand thats not covering your mouth is on your waist, holding you firmly against the countertop. your eyes roll back into your head as he hits the perfect spot inside of you, drooling like a mutt all over him. you can't help but let out pathetic whimpers and whines, so overwhelmed that you couldn't keep your mouth shut.

as if it was planned, the fireworks go off. its a loud show, just loud enough that art can take his hand off your face. he uses his now free hand to reach in between the two of you, rubbing fast circles onto your clit.

without support from art, your face slumps against the cool marble. you're putty in his arms, him fucking you so good you can't even think. with a particularly rough snap of his hips, you come undone, cunt spilling all over his cock.

"fuck- almost there baby- you can take it like the whore you are-"

art's rambles have practically turned mindless, now only chasing his own orgasm. he releases his hot load into you when you turn to face him, looking up at him through your eyelashes. like a hypocrite, he lets out his own vulgar groan as he finishes.

"fuck.." art mutters pulling out and smoothing your dress back down.

"go on. see your friends, knowing you're dripping with my cum", he grins cockily, giving your ass a playful slap. you push off the counter to walk outside, but your legs immediately give out.

"oops." art shrugs, with the most unapologetic smirk known to man.

[hayatoseyepatch]

𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: Karasu thought you needed to stop spending so much time online, especially after you let your doom-scrolling lead you to ask him to fuck you in a Ghostface mask. But hey, what was he if not an accommodating partner, he did so love it when you screamed. 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗: Tabito Karasu (Blue Lock) 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 2k 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘: Fem!Reader x Karasu. SMUT. 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: Hunter/prey dynamics, mask kink, degradation, praise, penetrative sex, spanking, mentions of slut/whore, choking, dacryphilia.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: This is one of my two submissions for the "No, You Hang Up" Ghostface server collab that I'm hosting with our other server owner @rindous-starlight for our server! This was so much fun to do and thanks to everyone who voted on my poll a little while ago to help me select the characters! I hope you enjoy, the full masterlist for my kinktober can be found here.

“You want me to do what?”

The laughter following your boyfriend’s statement makes your cheeks flush, almost embarrassed for asking. However, truth be told there was just something about the idea of Karasu chasing you, his identity “concealed” before fucking you in the woods behind your home. In the moment you had, shrugged it off as a joke, that you hadn’t been serious upon your boyfriend’s reaction. However, he knew better than that, knowing just how serious you had been. And if Karasu was honest with himself he couldn’t deny the way his cock throbbed at the idea. He just needed to find the perfect time to execute his plan.

You had been alone that night, Karasu having told you he was too tired to drive back from practice and he’d be crashing at Hiori’s. So why was it that you had gotten a notification that there was movement in your back ring camera? Brushing it off as the stray cats you and Karasu fed, grabbing a bowl of food and taking it outside, only for the door to slam shut behind you. Panicking, in nothing more than your house slippers and one of Karasu’s jerseys, you try the doorknob. Locked. Sighing, at least you both kept a key hidden by the front door, before you could go anywhere you felt a hand curl around your throat. Ice flooded your veins as a muffled voice met your ear.

“Don’t you know never to come to the door when you’re all alone pretty little dove.”

The grip on you was lose, allowing you to easily break free. Adrenaline surging, your feet carrying you before your brain could catch up, fight or flight kicking in. Making your second mistake of the evening, you ran into the woods that bled into the back of your shared home. Running through the wooded area as fast as your feet would carry you, dodging between trees as you tried to put as much distance between you and the mysterious figure as possible. Once you were sure you had done just that, you pressed your back against a tree, concealed from sight as you caught your breath. Hand over your mouth to muffle your shaky breaths as to not draw attention to yourself. However, it seemed there hadn’t been enough distance, watching as the figure walked past the tree you were hiding behind, mask concealing his face as his voice rang out once more.

“Haven't you ever watched a scary movie, dove? Don’t you know you never run into the woods?”

The voice carried through the night, but now that your heart wasn’t racing in your ears from fear, you quickly recognized the voice. Karasu? Your heart now raced for a different reason, realizing he had set you up. Telling you a lie earlier to catch you off guard, to make this feel more real. Karasu was nothing if not thorough, putting his all into all he did, this was no different it seemed. You werent sure if your relief outweighed your fear anymore though. Karasu was a professional athlete, body honed after years of training. And one thing you knew for certain from watching his games was that he was fast. Incredibly so. Which meant the chances of out running him were slim to none. But that wouldn’t stop you from trying.

Your feet slam against the ground as you ran in the opposite direction of his footsteps. Karasu’s ears perked immediately, the sound of branches snapping under your feet alerting him to your location. He was quick to turn on his heel, long strides having him caught up to your form within moments. Large hands reaching out to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him, knowing if it weren't for the mask you would feel his breaths on the back of your neck.

“Gotcha, sweetheart.”

He purrs, hands roaming your body, one settling around your throat while the other pushed the hem of his jersey up past your hips. He groans upon realizing you were in nothing but a cute pair of panties underneath, taking advantage of your state of undress as he slides his fingers past the waistband of your panties. His eyes rolling back in his head upon being met with your drenched cunt, sliding two fingers past your entrance with ease from the sheer amount of slick that seeped from your opening.

“God.” He groaned, dragging out the word, fingers delving deeper into your cunt. “You're fucking drenched. You this wet from being fucking chased by a stranger? God you're such a good little slut for me, baby.” He slid his fingers from your walls, the pads of his fingers circling your clit, relishing in the delicious sounds he pulls from you. Eventually he pulls away fully, swiping a foot under your own sending you to the ground below. You squeal form your loss of balance, just managing to catch yourself on your hands and knees. Karasu was quick to drop to his own, a strong hand finding purchase on your back, forcing your back to arch and expose your ass to him. He tosses up the hem of his jersey, hooking two fingers in your panties to tug them to the side. You let out a shiver as the cold autumn air hits your now exposed cunt. Karasu lands a harsh slap to your ass, followed by three more in quick succession, using your distraction from the sting as a means to lower the sweatpants from his hips. His cock springs free from the material, slamming the entirety of his length past your velvety walls with ease due to just how wet you were for him.

“God, princess you’re sucking me in like such a good fucking slut.”

He groans, his setting a steady pace, a thumb parting your folds so he can watch his cock disappear inside you with every pass of his hips. With one hand he grabbed you by your arms crossing them using them as handlebars to pull you back on his cock, only to bounce you back with every harsh thrust. He picks up speed, allowing you to hear all the filthy noises he was making while pounding into you with abandon. He let out a strangled groan, your velvety walls suffocating his cock as he fucked you. He wasn’t sure if it was the remnants of adrenaline from you earlier chase or if he was just so into the way this scenario allowed for him to use you completely in a way he never had, but he could feel himself losing control. Releasing the grip he had on your arms, he lets his hand come down on your ass once more, taking pleasure in knowing your skin would darken from the blood rushing to the impacted area.

“God, dove, so fucking good.” He droned, gripping the flesh of your ass to force you back on him. “This fucken pussy drives me insane, tryin’ to fucken milk me for all I’m worth, isn’t that right my pretty little dove.”

He continues his assault, missing the feel of your skin under his mouth but god if you were this wet from him fucking you with a mask on, who was he to complain? He never knew he would be so into it, but he’d be lying if he said this wasn’t the hottest sex the two of you had ever had. Karasu’s hand wrapped around your neck, bringing you flush against his chest as he fucked up into your cunt. Karasu’s much larger frame always made it so easy for him to manhandle you into whatever position he pleased. He kept with his brutal pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the woods. Groaning, the feeling of your slick against his thighs as your cunt gushed for him was sure to drive him mad.

“God kitten, you feel how fucking wet you are? So wet over getting fucked by someone whose face you can't even see.” He groans, laughing sadistically, the sound being muffled by the mask that still covered his face. “What a good girl you are, doing so well for me. Such a good fucken kitten”

He used his free hand that wasn't wrapped around your neck to reach around to rub harsh slow circles into your clit. The movement of his fingers in time with the thrusting of his hips. Your eyes rolled back in your head, the rough terrain of the ground below digging into your knees adding a delicious mix of pain into the pleasure you were receiving, making your head fuzzy. After a few moments of his ruthless attack on your poor cunt, he slowed his movements to a halt, grinning beneath the mask at the delicious whine it pulled from deep within your throat. He kept his movements slow, dragging his cock in and out of your cunt slowly, allowing you to feel every inch and vein of his dick. His movements were so incredibly frustrating just enough to keep you on the edge of what you needed most. Eventually, his movements stopped altogether, pulling out of your cunt, rewarded with a desperate whimper from you. At this rate he didn’t even need to ask, begs and pleas falling from your lips in a desperate scramble, needing so badly for him to make you cum.

“Please Tabito.. please, wanna come, please.. I don't care baby just need to come all over your cock, need to feel you come inside my cunt want you to breed my pussy Tabito.”

Your pleas were like music to his ears, pulling a groan from him. You felt the world shift, him easily manhandling you to lay on your back beneath him. “I wanna see that beautiful face, when you cream all over my cock, dove. I want to see every face you make while I fuck you baby. I want watch you go dumb on my cock like the slut you are. Wanna watch you come undone on my cock.

He growled, your tear-stained cheeks and completely fucked expression had him wasting no time slipping back into the drenched walls of your pussy. He ripped the mask off with one hand, throwing it god knows where as his hips resumed their abuse on your cunt. Two large hands found the backs of your knees, forcing them to your chest so his cock could reach even deeper inside of you. Your cries muffled as he finally kisses you, tongue invading your mouth instantly. The kiss is desperate, filled with need, his thrusts were getting sloppy, letting you know it wasn’t just you who was reaching the precipice of orgasm. Karasu gripped at the plush of your thighs, being sure to hit every single nerve and spot inside your cunt. He could feel the clenching, the want, the desperate need for you to come all over his cock.

He attacked your neck, leaving kisses and bites along the surface area of your exposed skin. He lets out a breathy chuckle, seeing the way you had thrown your head back, making a sad attempt to meet his thrusts with your own hips. You sob, moaning almost embarrassingly loud as he hits every spot, angling his hips just right in the ways only he knows how to. His ministrations finally being enough to throw you over the edge. He feels your thighs clamp shut over his hips, body violently shaking with cries as you came. Walls clamping down on him in a vice grip, eventually hurtling him towards his own release. So lost in pleasure as he paints your walls white in his cum, he is barely aware of the added moisture from you having squirted all over him. He slows his hips, riding out your highs until the point of overstimulation, a shudder wracking his spine as he stills. His head dropping into your neck as he catches his breaths, a breathy laugh leaving him.

“Who knew all it would take for you to do that was to chase your horny ass through the woods, little bird.”

𝕯𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖇𝖞 @/𝖈𝖆𝖋𝖊𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖊 & @/𝖘𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖐𝖆-𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖘.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @littleplantfreak @maruflix @umemiaa @stunies @eevees-hobbies @143-ilyuu @uzxotic @princesstiti14 (𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙/𝖉𝖒/𝖆𝖘𝖐 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖗 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖞 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖘) (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

[ravstars]

Let’s nap ☆⌒(ゝ。∂)

⌇Wanderer/ Scaramouche x Reader.ᐟ

જ⁀➴Fluff: You and Scara take a nap together! Modern AU

a/n: Omfg I was supposed to post Childe smut yesterday but I overthought it too much and got very nerv to post it so I‘ve decided to let it marinate a little more in my drafts until I don’t feel too embarrassed to post it lmao, forgive me! In the meantime, please enjoy some tooth rotting fluff hehe ^-^ This is super short but I’ll make it up to you guys, promise!!

With the months seeming to pass by in a much faster manner than usual, the sun shining through the big windows blinds you with it’s vigorous rays of sunlight. So warm and comfortable that it seems understandable to everyone to take afternoon naps and laze around, even to your sweet lover.

“Scara…” you hug and wrap your arms around his waist from behind as he seemed busy to be preparing some late noon snacks in the kitchen. It had only been a few months since you and Scara had moved in together, yet the domestic feel of just waking up together, spending the day together, cooking together and sleeping together never seemed to stop making your heart beat in a ridiculously fast rhythm every time. It was heaven on earth, in a way.

You get pulled out of your thoughts soon enough, though, as Scaramouche, who had by now finished preparing your snack, turned around to face you.

“What is it?” He feigns annoyance and crosses his arms over his chest, his brows furrowed lightly.

“Gee, lighten up, will ya’?” Your thumb reaches out to smooth over the crease between his brows, as he bites back a visible smile.

“Here, your damn carrots.” He rolls his eyes and hands you a plate with carefully peeled and cut carrot sticks. You in turn take one from the plate and munch on a carrot

“Let’s nap… I’m so sleepy.” You lay your head on his chest, nuzzling, earning a tut from him

“You seem rather energetic to me.”

“C’mon, please…” You give him your best puppy eyes and hope he can’t resist, which earns you a soft smack on the head

“Ow…” before you can even say something else, though, he pulls you by your hand, now in a much gentler manner, towards the couch you had picked out together.

“No funny business,” he ensures, “you wanted to nap, so we’re gonna nap, alright?” You take what you can get and nod, sitting down on the couch before he pushes you down to lay on your back. Afterwards, he lays down next to you, turning to his side and pulling the blanket on the armrest over you two, especially over you. His voice, now softer, rings in your ears

“Tell me if you need anything else. If you’re cold or—“

“— just… cuddles.” Your eyes are already drawn shut and your body has been captured in slender arms. Your wish is his command, after all, may he admit or not. You respond by nuzzling into the crook of his neck, pushing yourself closer and closer until there’s no space left between you.

It’s not toilsome to get sleepy in his arms, proven by your already fading conscience before you feel a light kiss pressed onto the crown of your head

“I love you, Idiot.”

Indeed he does.

[scudslut]

too sweet

daryl x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, mdni

a/n: okay, is this like the song? IDK i listened to it on repeat tryna decipher shit and come up with a good plot but i think i got a little lost in the sauce, or maybe im just being mean to myself🫢 ANYWAY I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANON BYEEE🤍

you two never got along, never saw eye to eye.

years you’d known each other and all it ever did was reveal those differences all the more. highlighting them in bold letters for you to gaze at thoughtfully, but did that stop you?

it was a game you played, back and forth for so long that it became a routine. bicker and disagree till you were blue in the face and at each other's mercy for only the moon to bear witness too.

how many times had you dug into him for his habits. he smoked, kept to himself, he fought, but where had that ever gotten him? it was against your nature. a way of being that you genuinely could not understand.

and he’d be right there with you, matching each dig with his own. you were sweet, too soft. you pleased and walked among ice like you weighed as much as a feather, so predictable it was almost humorous. if you didn’t understand him, he was absolutely riddled by you.

“how do ya sleep at night? huh? don’ya ever get tired of keeping everyone so fuckin happy?” he’d mutter, all the while tearing articles of clothing off of your supple skin, one by one. skin that was pristine by default and worn as if only heaven itself had touched it.

“believe it or not, i actually want people to like me daryl. i like when i can make people happy. it’s not a fucking act,” you sneer back.

who was he to talk? he lived inside his own head. could go days… no, months by himself, not muttering a single word to a breathing soul. and you’d tried to reason, guide, and help, but if anyone knew daryl dixon, they knew he didn’t budge easily. he had to want it for himself and he simply didn’t see the glory in your people-pleasing nature, as he’d like to call it.

sure he saw the value in it, somewhat. but he liked things the way they were, as they were meant to be. if he disagreed with something he sure as shit wasn’t gonna prance around trying not to hurt no feelings.

“alright, you keep tellin’ yerself that, princess.”

so what was it that kept you two coming back for more? why was the tension and aversion between your minds so magnetic between your bodies? he wanted to snap those annoying, pretty lips shut with his. maybe if he kissed you hard enough something would click in that head of yours. maybe he could fuck some clarity into you.

his fingers would rub fast circles over your clit, watching you keen and moan into the pillow beneath you, “how’s that princess? good enough for ya? hm?” he’d mock, “faster? slower?”

“god, would you shut up already?” you tried to sneer only for it to come out as a breathy whine, adding fuel to his pride and smirk across his face. your lips crashed into his in an attempt to diminish it but it was right there, now pressed up against your face, and fuck, why was that so hot? why was his rugged stubble, his long hair kissing your shoulders, and his broad, strong body so infuriatingly sexy to you? muscles built from years of fights, kills, and hunting. you didn’t like it… but you did.

“fuck, i’m gonna-“ you cried to him softy.

“nuh, uh. not yet pretty girl.”

his belt was loud throughout the quiet room. your eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure but you heard the familiar clanks and zips, and then you felt his weight above you — warm and spicy. it pulled you so far and close that you sucked him in before he even got his pants all the way off.

“fuckin’ christ girl,” he groaned, snapping down to meet your hips flush. it was rapid and hot, both of you pouring all your frustrations into each push and pull. frustrations with each other, frustrations with yourselves that you liked this so fucking much.

he fucked you deep and hard like his body hated you, but somehow kissed you so tenderly through it all. his tongue massaging and tangling with yours as if you created his oxygen for him.

“so fucking sweet, princess, y’know that?” he whispered against you, “no good fer me.”

he was telling himself that; convincing himself and you knew it. your body rolled to meet his quickly, feeling every gooey, warm muscle against your skin and drooling over it, “more.”

as if to prove a point he slowed down, pulling out till just his tip was caught at your entrance, and then would thrust in, hard. over, and over, and over until you were singing his name and muffling it with his neck. warm and spicy.

“ya like that? thought ya wanted faster?”

he knew he was walking a line, but what had you guys ever been but a definitive line? a clear distinction of night and day, the only time ever seeing eye to eye being these moments. as one.

you were sent over the edge instantly, spasms of pleasure rolling languidly through your body. the tight swelling of your cunt causing daryl to finish with you and fuck if he didn’t cum the prettiest, sexiest way you had ever seen. straight out of your dirty, teenage fantasies and above you to soak in while you wreathed along with him.

he groaned and cursed into your chest, riding out each wave until he was shaking above you and so sensitive he couldn’t help but hiss as he pulled away, flopping down beside you.

a cigarette was quickly fished from his strewn jeans pockets and placed between his lips, lighting up and rolling back into the pillows lazily. every ounce of mending and merging you had just done was palpably tossed out the window, your scoff loudly filling the silence.

“that will kill you one day, hope you know that,” you muttered whilst gathering your clothes and slipping them on.

he didn’t bat an eye, nothing he hadn’t heard before from you and honestly, he didn’t really care. plenty of things in the world that’ll kill you, your naivety being one of them.

“lemme guess, gotta be up bright n’ early? tendin’ ta all yer charity cases?” he mused as he watched you head for the door. there had never been a night you’d spent together, probably would end up ripping each others faces off alone in room together for that long.

he didn’t get an answer, just an amused eye roll as you opened his bedroom door, “bye daryl.”

and then you were gone, quiet stomps heard as you floated up the stairs and he knew it would only be a matter of days before you were right back here, glued to his body and singing his name like you needed him to survive.

“figures,” he mumbled, taking a long drag from his smoke and smirking softly to himself.

what’s that saying? opposites always attract?

[ilycosy]

being tara's friend and starring on the podcast!! getting borderline wasted with her and zach during the show and drunkenly admitting you'd have a threesome with the two of them <3

ive been putting this off bc of motivation but x. x we finally got our zachyummy x reader fic !!!! who cheered :3 ??

fyi it's a little implied that tara n reader have alr slept together <3 js for the simplicity , also it's a little choppy at the end but it's js bc idk how 2 end it <//3

you felt a little warm as you sipped on your beer, watching tara banter with zach. you and tara have been friends for years, meeting each other because of jake, but you had only met zach a couple of months ago. you got along well with him, you just weren't as bubbly as tara was.

tara giggled and leaned her head onto your shoulder, listening to jared ask a question. "out of all your friends," he says with a giggle, his face a little red from the beer. "who would you be most likely to sleep with?"

you glanced at tara, watching as she wrinkled her nose and said nobody while zach tried to pry for more. in a split moment of drunken confidence you blurted out, "well, zach, but i think id want tara's emotional support there too." you barely finish the sentence as you feel embarrassment rush through you, zach already whistling and giggling into the mic.

it was the first time tara had glanced at you back that night, smiling to herself as she finished off her bottle.

by the time the podcast ended, tara was offering everyone over to her place knowing that jared had plans. seeing that you and zach were free, you both agreed to come over. huddling on either side of tara in the uber that she ordered, she talked idly so the ride wasn't awkward.

you probably should've noticed that tara was getting touchier and going past the friendly flirting, but you were too tipsy to process. only noticing the tension when tara had backed you into zach, your eyes meeting his equally shocked and flushed face.

you would've felt more shame for how fast you allowed tara to do this if it didn't feel so good, her lipstick smearing against your jaw and face while she left comforting kisses. her hand threaded in zach's hair as she kept him in place, his big hands keeping you spread as he took turns from teasingly licking you and completely working his tongue into you.

"jesus christ woman," he huffs, pulling you closer by your thighs. causing you to slide down so your head is resting in between tara's legs. "i can eat them out myself, get your claws off of'm." he makes no effort to pull away from her hand, which makes her pet his hair.

you sniffle, whining as he continues eating you out. pressing rough kisses against your clit before sucking it, you can tell he's grinding onto the couch from the shifting. "fuck, zach you need to get more fingers in," tara mutters, moving her hand away from his head so both her hands could cup your tits.

he barely lifts his head to see what he's doing before he's listening and slipping in a finger inside, looking up to watch your face screw up and admiring tara's tanned skin against yours.

"good enough for you, ms. yummy?" he asks teasingly, pressing kisses along your thighs and up your stomach as he works in a second finger. "shut up, zach." is all she says before giggling and pulling him into a kiss, both of them whimpering into the kiss as you're trying to keep your eyes open to watch.

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK men react when (y/n) gets injured

Pairing: Nanami x reader; Megumi x reader; Toji x reader; Geto x reader

Word Count: 2,4k

Warnings: injury (lol), listen I know Geto's one isn't that realistic, I just needed something with a lot of fluff, don't come at me okay, also might be shitty because my sick head isn't funcional at the moment so have mercy How Gojo reacts when (y/n) gets injured can be found here Aaaaand Choso with a injured (y/n) who has blood phobia here

Nanami Kento

You weren’t fast enough. The second the bullet enters your skin, you know you fucked up.

“(y/n)!”, Nanami’s distant voice calls out your name.

You clench your teeth, blood pumping in your ears while a stabbing pain spreads in your guts. This is bad. Very very bad. This is a mission you have to complete together, Nanami and Yuji both rely on you. Fuck, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer, even a grade 1. And then you get hit by a bullet this easily?

How pathetic.

It seems like the weight of your own body forces you to your knees, warmth spreading from your stomach over your lower body. Slowly but surely, the stabbing pain in your guts gets less noticeable, you have to fight desperately to keep your eyes from shutting.

Nanami…It’s not fair that you let him hang like this, hit by a random bullet on that random Wednesday. After all, you still had so much to tell him, experiences to share. What about the plans you’ve made earlier about finally asking him out? The words slip off your tongue with every passing second. No matter how hard every fiber of your being fights against the darkness, it proceeds to consume you.

“Goddamnit (y/n)”, Nanami hisses through gritted teeth when he finally reaches you.

“Yuji, take care of that man with the gun!”

“Hey, you can’t die on me today. Keep your eyes open for me, yeah? Don’t close them. Are you able to stand up?”

So much blood. The whole floor underneath you is covered in crimson, making it hard to breathe for Nanami. This shouldn’t have happened, he is fucking responsible for this, he should have kept his eyes open, he-

“I’m so sorry about leaving you hanging, Nanami”, you breathe out.

His heart sinks, hand frantically pressing against your gaping wound while his shaky fingers try to dial Shoko’s number on his phone.

“You won’t leave me today. I’m taking care of you. You’re safe with me.”

A weak smile forms itself on your tired lips as he speaks to Shoko on the phone in hushed tones. While everyone around him thinks he’s harsh and cold-hearted, you know that Nanami is in fact a tender man that puts the safety of others over himself without blinking. You always admired him for how he carries himself with so much class, looking cool while doing the most banal tasks.

“How is your pain level? Do you need anything? Shoko will be here in a minute, I promise”, he speaks to you in a calm but shaky voice.

“I don’t feel any pain. I just feel really really tired.”

Your eyes threaten to flutter shut again when Nanami’s thumb begins to caress your cheek gently.

“Everything will be alright, I promise (y/n)”, he softly murmurs.

You can tell by the way he looks down at you that he means what he says, the way his calm orbs glister making you tear up.

“I really wanted…to ask you out…tonight…”

Every word rolls off your tongue like a heavy stone while your mind seems to let you down.

“I would love that. Just stay with me, okay? Then I’ll invite you to dinner, I’ll even cook your favorite meal for you.”

“That sounds…wonderful…”

“But to do that, you’ll need to hold on for me a little longer, sweetheart. Focus on my voice, breathe with me”, he instructs you.

“Can you…hold me for a while?”

“Of course”, he replies without thinking, firm arms wrapping themselves around your shivering body instantly.

Megumi Fushiguro

Even though you feel like fainting, you don’t stop running behind him. Damn, that curse did really hit you where it hurts, your stabbed thigh feeling like it’s going to give up on you with every step you take.

“Did that curse hurt you?”, he shouts in your direction.

You should really tell him, you know you need help as soon as possible. But something inside you is too proud to open up. After all, the boy in front of you is none other Megumi Fushiguro. You can’t show him weakness, not in a million lifetimes.

“No”, you lie.

Just in time, you make it out of the building that collapses into itself behind you, a wave of rubble and ashes blowing over your head while you lay down, trying desperately not to groan. You press your hand against your thigh to somehow stop the pain, only to get greeted by the sickening sight of blood all over your hands. You swallow heavy, blood running between your fingertips.

“(y/n)? (y/n), where are you, oh, there you-“

Megumi stops in his tracks, eyes widen in horror when is gaze meets the flood of crimson that now covers the floor underneath you.

“You idiot, why did you lie to me?”, he hisses, instantly rushing to your side.

Oh god, there’s a gaping hole in your thigh – a gaping hole that runs like a waterfall. While you’re not that critically injured, the attack might have hit a crucial vein or artery. And that means you could in fact bleed out within the next few minutes if he doesn’t act right now.

Your toe-curling cry echoes through the barracks when Megumi presses his hand against your thigh with full force, making you see stars while a big lump forms in your throat.

“Serves you right. You should have told me that you’re hurt, you know that right? How many fingers?”

He holds up his other hand so close to your face that you can see nothing but his fingertips, a silent laughter escaping your blue colored lips.

“I’m serious (y/n)! Stop laughing and answer the question”, he grumbles.

“5”, you reply weakly.

 “It’s two”, he murmurs, eyes scanning over your so worn-out looking face.

“You look rather pale.”

“Oh, I’m not feeling that great to be honest”, you mutter, ice cold sweat clamming to your skin.

He lets out his breath, gaze fixated on you. It seems like his anger fades away the more he looks at you, shivering uncontrollably while your eyes flutter open and shut all the time. Urgh, even though you’re suborn as hell, you absolutely don’t deserve to feel like this.

“Come on, stop acting up. You’ve had worse.”

You don’t reply. Instead, your hand grabs his arm, holding onto him for what feels like dear life as a single tear runs down your face. You hate to admit it, but you’re scared as hell. If feels like life is slipping through your fingers, seconds play before your eyes like a movie. This is the first time you’ve ever got injured like that. And even if Megumi tries to play it cool, you can tell by the way he scrunches his forehead that it’s looking anything but great.

“I just didn’t want you to think I’m weak”, you admit quietly.

His heart skips a beat, his features soften in an instant.

“Are you kidding? I’d never think you’re weak, (y/n). To be honest I’m surprised you haven’t fainted yet”, he remarks dryly.

To be honest he is surprised that he himself hasn’t fainted, considering all the flood that spills through his fingertips. But he has to be strong, he has to get through this with you.

“Pinky promise?”, you croak, holding up your shaky hand with all the strength that’s left in your body.

“Pinky promise”, Megumi whispers, intertwining his finger with your little one.

Toji Fushiguro

“Oooops my bad, that one should have normally killed you”, the man in front of you mumbles, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

You shake in pure horror, pain rushing through your shoulder as you hold onto the gaping wound his bullet left in your sensitive skin.

“Please don’t kill me”, you weep, crawling backwards until your back hits the ice cold wall.

Spilling tears take your sight completely, you can’t help but burst into weeping without any mercy. Toji stares down at you, cold eyes surprised by your sight.

“I think I’ve never seen someone bawling this much. Did it really hurt that bad, huh?”

You stare at him through wet lashes, whole body on fire when his frame comes closer and closer. No, you need to run as fast as you can, away from this wicked place, out of his sight.

But instead, you sit still, glazed eyes fixated on his stunning features.

Roughly, he grabs your face, making you weep all over again.

“You’re actually quite cute…Maybe too cute to die…”

“Oh, come on sweet thing, stop crying for me will you?”

His thumb traces over your puffy cheeks, wipes away the trail of tears his bullet and the promise of death that’s threatening in his eyes left on your porcelain skin.

You can’t catch your breath, gasping for air like a fish on land with your hand still pressed against your aching shoulder.

“Sorry ‘bout that”, he mumbles, other hand reaching for your shoulder.

“Please don’t hurt me”, you cry out, flinching under his surprisingly gentle touch.

“I’m a man of honor, I’d never hurt you”, he replies with casual voice.

“Ahh, nothing too bad. A few kisses and you’re fine.”

You blink against the swell of tears, urgently trying to calm yourself down. Aching, fear and insecurity simply take your breath away. But the man in front of you…Despite looking so dangerous, it’s almost as if his face softened, as if he really means what he said.

“Now stop cryin’, ‘kay? I’m sorry ‘bout that shoulder of yours, thought you’re here to kill me or something.”

“I would never kill anyone”, you reply with shaky voice.

Why would you come here to kill him? All of this makes no sense to you. You just walked home from work, ready to take a bath and watch Netflix when all of the sudden, all this men came out of nowhere, dragging you along with him until the man in front of you killed them and shoot you.

“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t princess. Just a misunderstanding.”

“It hurts”, you press out, a shocking wave of pain throbbing through your arm when you try to shift your weight.

“Wouldn’t do that if I was you. Let’s make a deal: I’ll get someone to stitch you up and you’ll spend the night with me, huh?”

Your doe eyes stare up at him in nothing but innocence. Oh, you truly know nothing about the cruel world around you, probably not even able to see curses. What a cute little thing you are, too good for the world around you and especially Toji himself. But he just can’t resist.

“And you’re really not going to kill me?”, you whine into his hand.

Gently, he wraps his fingertips around your chin.

“Of course not, princess. You’re way too precious to die”, he purrs.

Geto Suguru

You know that it’s stupid, that Geto is more than capable to look after himself. But the second a curse rushes his direction, you sprint forwards, shielding his body with your own.

Resulting in not only the teeth of the curse scratching your skin, but one of Geto’s curses hitting your head with full force.

You fall to the hard ground immediately, soul leaving your body behind. Instead of pain, you just feel numb, staring into the sound while the only thing that reminds you that you’re still alive is the growing ringing in your ears.

Geto’s heart drops the second you fall to the ground in front of him, naked fear crawling up his spine. No, no, no. This can’t be true. He didn’t just hit you full force, right? Instinctively, he falls to his knees besides you, grabbing your shoulders.

“Please tell be you’re alright, (y/n)”, he repeats over and over, hands holding onto you for dear life.

He knows you are tuff, that you can take a lot. But this…

Please don’t let it be too much.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you”, he mumbles, fingertips now gently stroking over your hair.

All you can do is stare into his brown eyes above you, body refusing its service completely. God, how absolutely stunning this man looks. Yes, it should be forbidden to look this good. Maybe you should ask him out when your mouth is working again, a nice date in a park or something. His facial features look so delicious that you want to let your hands glide along his jawline, just the way the other hand is doing right now.

“I would love to lick that”, you mutter so suffocated that Geto almost misses it.

Almost. Along with your fingertips that move up and down his jaw, his face reddens in an instant. What has gotten into you? Since when are you this flirty, this straightforward? You must’ve hit your head pretty badly.

“(y/n), I think you should see a doctor”, he suggests while awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

“I think I should see more of you, handsome”, you babble out.

“You hit your head pretty badly.”

“And your head is pretty.”

He signs. Although your sugary words make his heart hammer against his ribcage, he has to remind himself that you’re probably having a concussion - at least. At the moment, he can’t take your words seriously, no matter how hard he wants them to be true.

“Okay, I’ll call Shoko now. Do you feel alright? Does your head hurt? Does something else hurt? Please talk to me, (y/n).”

You smile at him widely, too mesmerized by the way that one strand of hair falls so effortlessly on his striking face.

“What a shame I never told you how beautiful you are”, you blurt out, fingertips grabbing nothing but air in an attempt to get a hold of his hair.

He can’t hold a small grin back. God, how are you doing that? Looking so fine with your arm ripped open by a curse and your eyes roaming around without an aim?

“Look, I’m not the brightest tool in the…toolbox.”

Geto raises an eyebrow in amusement at your creative phrase.

“But I…I mean it…Suguru…”, you mutter out his name.

“Let’s talk about this again when your head wasn’t hit by a curse shaped like a huge dragon, okay?”, he softly whispers, hand still stroking through your messy hair.

“Yeah…S-sure…” _____________________________________________________________ Now that you've made it this far

[whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan]

💧 Tell me what you want, sweetheart. How many fingers, how fast… 💧

✎ Pairing: Chan x fem!reader, Jeongin x fem!reader

✎ Genre: Smut

✎ Summary: Jeongin’s good instincts earn him a masterful lesson in fingering.

✎ CW: Established relationship, partner sharing, exhibitionism, vaginal fingering, praise

✎ Word count: 3,936

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“……… y/n……. hello?”

The sound of your name snaps you back into reality, back to the dining room table in the dorm. Eyes shift toward the source of the noise to find Jeongin looking at you quizzically.

“Hellloooo… you there?” he asks, comically waving his big hand in the air.

“Yeah… sorry. Just zoned out,” you reply, but that’s a lie.

You had been aimlessly swirling your chopsticks around your bowl of ramen, trying to ignore the feeling of your boyfriend’s fingers traveling farther and farther up your thigh.

Chan had been craving you all day, he said, and he had every intention of having his way with you after dinner. But, apparently, that wasn’t soon enough.

Not long after he prepared two bowls of instant noodles and sat down to eat with you, his hand found your knee under the table. And he didn’t stop.

Not when you playfully brushed it away, not when Jeongin, Han and Changbin joined with their own quick dinners, and not even when you shot him that cautionary look when his thumb began making small circles over your kneecap and you forced your legs closed with all the strength you could muster. He was determined to keep you on edge, and he was doing a damn good job.

But, of course, he was unaffected. Just eating and chatting and laughing with the boys like it’s a normal evening. Like he wasn’t about to slide his long fingers under your shorts just out of view of the others.

And that was working fine for a bit, until everyone had nearly finished their food while yours was barely touched. Until one sharp inhale made it clear to at least one person that not everything was as it seemed.

“I said…. How was your day?” Jeongin repeats.

All eyes are on you now, and they seem to have varying degrees of understanding. Jeongin looks concerned, Changbin confused, and Han relatively clueless. And then there’s Chan and his big, brown eyes, gazing at you with a mix of encouragement and adoration.

“Oh, it was fine,” you answer in the calmest voice you can muster. “Work’s been busy, had a couple of long day-”

Your thought is cut short when Chan rotates his wrist and forces his fingers between your tightly closed thighs. His pinky extends to press against your underwear, and you can’t help but squirm in your seat.

“Uh, ahem. Sorry,” you restart, trying to recover with a fake cough and throat clear. “Just some long days at work. That’s all. Thank you for asking, Innie.”

The sweet smile you send his way seems to do nothing to lessen his concern. If anything, it just makes him more suspicious. Changbin and Han seem satisfied, though, and change the topic back to Hyunjin’s mistake during dance practice.

Chan’s hand travels higher and higher until he’s practically cupping you in his fingers. He rolls them from top to bottom, putting pressure on as much of you as he can from this angle. Then he adjusts again, sliding his pinky under the damp fabric, and you can’t take it another fucking second.

“Hey, I’m not feeling well,” you announce to the table. “I think I’m gonna go lie down.”

Chan’s hand returns to his lap and you stand up and turn on your heels before anyone can ask what’s wrong. You just make a beeline for your boyfriend’s bedroom, sent off by a chorus of “feel better!” and “sleep well!”

You plop down on the plush comforter and stare at the ceiling, trying to imagine what you’re in for tonight and telepathically tell him to hurry the fuck up. And it works, because his frame fills the doorway less than a minute later.

“Not feeling well, my angel?” he teases. “Is there anything I can do to make you better?”

“Shut up,” you shoot back playfully.

A sly smile spreads across his lips as Chan closes the door behind him and dims the lights before heading to the foot of the bed.

“You did so well out there, baby, staying quiet for me,” he praises. “Would you like your reward?”

He places his knees on either side of your legs and crawls onto the bed until he’s hovering above you. All you can do is sit and stare in awe of his big shoulders, his tense expression, his fiery eyes staring down at you.

The corners of his full lips pull into a smirk, and he lowers himself to your neck, gently kissing and sucking and biting the skin there.

“Mmmmm,” you moan, moving a hand to the back of his head to run the dark strands through your fingers.

“Do that again,” he mumbles against your skin. “Moan for me.”

One of his hands finds yours, interlacing your fingers and pressing into the bed, while the other slips under your shirt and grips you over your bra.

“Ohhh, hmmm,” you groan, melting into the bed at his touch.

He sighs and plants a final kiss on your neck before turning his attention to your lips. He closes your bottom lip between his plump, pink ones and holds it there for a few seconds, but it feels more like an eternity. You could stay like this forever, just surrounded by him. But a knock at the door cuts eternity short.

“Hey, y/n, Chan… everything ok?” Jeongin’s voice sounds from the hallway.

“Yeah, thank you for checking, Innie!” you yell back and wait to see if that’ll be enough to end his curiosity.

“No, something isn’t right… I can feel it. Can I come in?” he asks.

Chan sighs and looks back to you. An annoyed expression and a slight nod send him to the door knowing that this interruption is his fault and his alone.

“Hey, she’s ok I promise,” Chan says, standing in the doorway to block Jeongin’s entry but not hide the view of you on the bed. “Her stomach is just upset, that’s all.”

You push up on your elbows and smile at him, and he smiles back. But it doesn’t reach his dark eyes. He glances back and forth between you and Chan a few times before he speaks again.

“You two are up to something. What did you do, Chan?” he asks, squaring up to his hyung the best he can. The tense look on his face and broadening of his shoulders is enough to send you both into a laughing fit, and then there’s no choice left but to tell him the truth.

“Are you serious? That’s what that was?!” he exclaims. “I thought something was wrong. Jesus.”

He pauses for a second and can’t help but glance at the both of you, at Chan’s hand, at your thighs.

“You… you really did that with your fingers?” Jeongin whispers to Chan.

Your beautiful boyfriend throws his head back and laughs, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Truth be told, he could do that to you by simply existing, but his fingers… there’s something magical about them.

“Wow…” Innie mumbles. “You’ll have to teach me that sometime.”

“How about now?” Chan asks, glancing back at you for approval.

You smirk and nod in response. He knows you love a captivated — consenting — audience.

A rosy color spreads across the maknae’s cheeks, and he instinctively pulls his sweatshirt’s collar up to his nose in an attempt to hide.

“No, I couldn’t. That’s… this… no…” he declares, but he can’t keep his eyes away from your lower body for more than a few seconds, and an occasional twitch in his sweatpants makes it clear he’s not entirely opposed to the idea.

“Come here, I’ll show you,” Chan says, grabbing Innie by the arm and pulling him over to the bed. “You don’t have to touch if you want. Just watch what I do.”

Chan plops down comfortably on the edge between your legs, and Jeongin awkwardly sits on the corner of the mattress.

“It’s mostly about pressure, yeah? Depending on where you are, do you want to massage…” Chan explains, wrapping his fingers around and gently rubbing your ankle. “…or do you want to tease…”

He loosens his grip and drags his fingertips up your shin, to your knee, and back down, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he goes. You thrust upward just a little, yearning for that same touch between your legs.

Chan smiles as you squirm, enjoying his teacher role already. Jeongin’s watching his hyung’s fingertips with intensity, and next thing you know, he’s testing his skills on your other leg.

“Like this?” Innie asks, placing both hands on your sock-clad foot and using his thumbs to massage the base through the cotton. Fingertips drag to your ankle and hook around the sock’s cuff, rolling it down and over your toes and off.

He applies pressure to different spots on the base of your foot, watching your face to see how it feels. Once he passes your heel, he puts his palms to work, too, dragging his big hands up and down the sides of your calf.

“Yeah, nice,” Chan says, smiling approvingly before turning his attention back to you. “You like that, baby?”

“Hmmm….”

It would be hard to not enjoy four hands caressing your legs, but something about Jeongin’s fingers elevates the feeling. Like his big hands could do so much damage, but instead, they’re caressing you gently. And all you can think about is how he could wreck you in so many ways…

You snap back to reality as your boyfriend lifts the hem of your T-shirt to slide his hand up and rub your stomach. Even with everything else going on, his eyes are glued to yours, and that sweet smile is still aimed at you.

“Good so far, sweetheart?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you reply softly between sharp breaths. “You ok?”

“Of course, as long as you’re happy,” Chan replies, then turns to Innie. “Ready for the next step?”

Jeongin doesn’t answer immediately. Honestly, he probably didn’t even hear Chan. He’s staring at your legs so intensely, almost in wonder.

“Oi, Jeongin,” Chan repeats, snapping the fingers of his free hand.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, yeah,” the younger boy answers, shaking his head softly. “What do I do?”

“Go higher,” Chan says matter-of-factly, like this really is just a lesson and you’re the study participant — and Jeongin is his most eager student.

The maknae immediately wraps a hand around your inner thigh, down toward your knee. At Chan’s instruction — an encouraging nod is all he needs — Innie slides his warm hand up and up. Slowly, gently.

The unfamiliar touch has you instinctively pulling your legs closed, but Chan’s comforting touch on your stomach keeps you relaxed. His palm is pressed flat, and his fingers make small circles on your soft skin. His other hand replicates Jeongin’s path and gently squeezes the flesh of your inner thigh.

“Hmm.”

A deep hum vibrates from Innie’s throat, and his hungry eyes are trained on the wet spot on your shorts.

You’ve always wondered if other people can smell your arousal. Chan jokes that he can — “It’s the wolf in me, what can I say?” — but he’s generally full of shit. Regardless of whether or not he can smell it, Jeongin can certainly see it. And the way he’s licking his lips has you convinced he wants to taste it, too.

“Go ahead, Innie,” you say reassuringly. “Touch me, it’s ok.”

And then he does. His fingers slide under your shorts and roughly press into your panties. His sudden movements startle all three of you, and Jeongin’s face burns bright red in embarrassment and he pulls his fingers back into his lap.

“A little too quick,” Chan explains. “Something like that is fine if you’re going hot and heavy, yeah? But for something like this…”

Your boyfriend’s hand presses into your thigh and inches up until his fingertips reach the fabric of your shorts. He runs the damp material between his fingers and lightly bites his lip before speaking again.

“… you want to go slowly. Gentle and loving. Maybe a little teasing,” he says with a wink. “That’s what she likes, anyway. Don’t you baby?”

“I just tolerate it because he enjoys being an ass,” you say to Jeongin, who’s still sitting there with his fingers pressed into his thighs.

“Naur, you love it,” Chan teases back. “You love when I play with you.”

He slides your shorts to the side, just like he did earlier tonight. His thumb slowly runs up and down your folds through your underwear while his other hand resumes its circles on your stomach.

“You love when I do this for you,” he continues. “And I love doing it…”

His thumb presses into you deeper through the soaked cotton. Once the fabric can’t stretch anymore, he pulls back out and feels for your clit. He finds the spot and applies just enough pressure to make you squirm.

“That’s my girl,” Chan hums.

His gaze hasn’t left your face. It’s like he forgot someone else is there at all. Like it’s only you two on the bed, business as usual.

Your boyfriend hooks his thumb under your panties and moves them to the side to touch you. He runs his thumb down the length of your opening, parting your lips to feel inside of you where he can.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” Chan whispers. “How many fingers, how fast.”

The hand on your stomach moves to your cheek and caresses it softly. He shifts his weight on the bed so his face can follow, too. Chan sweetly kisses your forehead, then the tip of your nose, then your lips.

“You have me in the palm of your hand, baby. I’ll do whatever you say.”

He breathes into your mouth, his lips only inches from yours when he speaks. You’d love to answer him, but your brain’s all fuzzy and your tongue wants to taste his teeth.

Hands go to his neck to keep him close while your lips press into his. He somehow knows exactly what you want — he always does — and parts his lips for you. Your tongue runs along the backside of his teeth, then the front, before you close his top lip between your teeth. His tongue joins yours then, and you spend what feels like forever just savoring each other and pouring every ounce of affection into each kiss.

Eventually, he pulls away with a smile spread across his swollen lips. He beams down at you, then turns to Jeongin.

“So, like I said…” he starts. “For something like this, you want to be soft, romantic. Listen to your partner’s body, and do what they like.”

Chan resumes his vertical strokes between your legs and faces you again.

“Most of it is about the buildup, right honey? I haven’t even stuck a finger in you yet.”

“He’s right,” you answer. “He always says such pretty words, sometimes I finish before we even get started.”

Chan smiles wide at your compliment.

“So, we’ve covered foreplay. Now, let’s get to fingering,” Chan says, slipping right back into his insightful teacher role. He lightly tugs on your shorts and continues: “Baby, do you mind?”

“Nope, go ahead.”

“Ok, lift up for me.”

He gently slides your shorts and underwear down your legs and tosses them to the floor. One hand gently rests on your upper thigh while the other settles on your lower abdomen.

“Before you do anything else here, you want to make sure she’s wet enough,” Chan explains. “If you did the first part right, you should be fine, but it’s important to check before doing anything too quickly or roughly.”

Your boyfriend positions a finger at your entrance and looks at you.

“Ready?”

“Mhm,” you reply softly.

One long, bony finger gently slides inside of you and traces circles around your walls.

“This isn’t a great example because she gets really wet — you saw her shorts,” Chan says with a soft chuckle. “But this is a good way to check and see what she’s ready for. Here, you try.”

Chan removes his finger and gestures for Jeongin to use his instead.

“You sure?” he asks nervously. “I don’t wanna…”

“You won’t fuck it up. You didn’t fuck it up last time either,” you speak softly. “How else are you gonna learn, Innie?”

“Ok…”

He speaks hesitantly, but his finger is inside you within seconds. His are even longer than Chan’s and how deep he can reach with minimum effort comes as a surprise, but a good one this time.

You inhale deeply and close your eyes as Jeongin starts to move that finger in and out slowly.

“Good, now go in a circle. That’ll help you gauge how much more you can stretch her right now,” Chan instructs.

Innie does as he’s told and a smirk spreads across his lips.

“I think she’s ready for another,” he says.

“Go ahead then,” Chan urges.

Another long finger slides inside you, and he keeps them pressed together as he moves in and out. A minute or two passes with the same motion, and Chan must see the blank expression on your face, so he offers to help.

“So, now it’s about the technique,” he says, placing a hand on Jeongin’s wrist. “You want to rotate your hand and use your fingers to reach the good spots.”

“The good spots?” Jeongin asks.

“That varies by person, unfortunately,” Chan answers. “Just have to mess around and practice on your partner ‘til you figure out their weaknesses. For example…”

Chan tightens his grip on Innie’s wrist and pulls his hand back a little.

“Bend your fingers,” he instructs.

The younger boy’s fingers are so long, he can’t help but stretch your walls apart when he bends them inside you.

“Ok, now keep them like that…”

Chan slowly directs Jeongin’s fingers forward and back, keeping an eye on your face to determine when he — or Innie, more like — is close. And when you take a soft, sharp breath in, he knows he’s got you.

“And now we add a little rotation…”

He pushes and pulls and twists Innie’s wrist like he’s playing the world’s most gentle round of Bop It.

“Oh…”

That one breathy word brings a huge smile to your boyfriend’s face.

“There, you got it,” he says to Innie, continuing to work his friend’s wrist to make you moan and sigh.

“And when you get more acquainted with their… uh… anatomy, you can target it more,” Chan continues. “May I…?”

He releases his hold on Innie’s wrist and patiently waits his turn. Jeongin slides his fingers out and sits them in his lap delicately, like he’s not sure what to do with them now that they’re covered in you. But you’re not too worried about that, because Chan’s fingers are back inside you now, and he’s rubbing and applying perfect pressure to that spot…

“Oh fuck…” you moan a little louder this time, and he just continues with a determined look on his face.

“I can get her to finish like this, or I could toss in some other techniques…” Chan muses, then pushes down gently on the stubbled skin above your pubic bone. “This increases pressure inside, making her feel more… full, I guess? Is that right, baby?”

“Ahuh, sure,” you answer quickly between sharp breaths.

Your eyes are mostly closed, but you can still see Chan’s confident smirk and watch Innie slowly slide his wet fingers into his mouth when he thinks you’re not looking. Something to tease him for later.

“And, of course,” Chan says, “don’t forget about her clit.”

He adds a third finger and rotates his hand so his palm is at an angle. He places his thumb on your most sensitive area and adjusts so he can press on the little nub directly.

“If you want to keep pressure here, you can’t pull out as far,” he explains. “That’s when you really focus on massaging her g-spot so you can keep your hand steady on her clit.”

He demonstrates with the same level of determination he showed earlier, even biting his lip this time. Jeongin is absolutely entranced next to him.

“And if you’re ready for the grand finale, and you’re comfortable with it, a little dirty talk never hurt anyone…” Chan trails off as he lowers his head down to yours once again, lips pressing softly against the edge of your ear.

“Gonna come for me, baby?” he whispers so only you can hear and increases the pace of his little circles and thrusts.

Your simple “y-yes” is barely audible and sandwiched between moans.

“I love your little sounds. You make the most beautiful noises for me, baby,” he hums as he gently bites your earlobe. “I can’t wait to make you scream later.”

“Chan… I…” you barely manage to utter and open your eyes to signal to your boyfriend that you’re almost there.

And just past him, looking entirely enthralled, sits Jeongin. His hand is gently rubbing your calf again, but you see it before you feel it. It’s like every nerve in your body relocated to between your thighs, and they’re all ticking time bombs.

“I know you’re close, sweetheart. You’re doing so good. Such a good girl for me, baby,” Chan praises as he continues his work and uses his free hand to stroke your hair. “Come for me.”

And you do. Gently, but loudly. Your body manages to remain still for the most part, but your chest rises and falls erratically while your moans and sighs fight for release against your lungs that desperately need oxygen.

You grip a handful of Chan’s hair and pull, and he just giggles and lets you guide his head to your chest. He listens to your heart pound with a sweet smile on his face as you ride this out.

The high doesn’t last too long, and aside from a tiny ringing in your ears, you’re back to normal in under 30 seconds. You open your eyes again to see the two of them staring down at you before Chan turns his attention to Jeongin.

“So, there you have it. Any questions?”

The younger boy looks like he’s doing math in his pretty head as he speaks: “… no, not right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at his bewilderment. It’s like he just saw a magic trick.

“Well, if you don’t mind then,” Chan says, facing you again. “I’m about to start my masterclass, so…”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Jeongin answers, snapping out of the trance and standing up from the edge of the bed. “Thank you, thank you both.”

He turns and heads for the door as your boyfriend leans down to kiss your lips and pull the comforter up over you. The two of them meet where the bedroom becomes the hallway and Chan opens the door.

“Let me know if you have any questions after you… practice,” he says with an exaggerated wink.

“Oh, I will,” Innie replies and steps into the hallway. As he heads back to the common space, Chan swears he hears him mumble, “Seungmin’s gonna lose his mind…”

Your boyfriend slowly closes and locks the bedroom door and pads back toward the bed.

“I think our little lesson is about to become big news,” Chan says as he slides into bed next to you.

“Honestly, that’s fine,” you answer sweetly. “I’m sure whoever they sleep with will thank us later.”

Chan shifts to lie on his side and wraps an arm around your waist. He smiles widely at you, displaying those gorgeous dimples.

“Guess we should practice our material for the next class then, yeah?” he whispers as he slides his hand down once again.

[star-girl69]

Fade Into You

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: you fell first, but clarisse fell harder. requested by anonymous!

a/n: decided to feed y’all today….. two fics i’m a monster that just creates and creates. this was so funny bc i kept accidentally writing angst and i had to stop myself. they’re allowed to have crushes on each other. it’s ok. this was hard anyways i hope you all enjoy!!

Fade Into You - Mazzy Star

warnings: just so cutesy, swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of blood and injury, soft clarisse i looooovvvvveeeeee you, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Your chest heaves. You’ve never ran that fast or that far before in your life. Your satyr protector runs ahead to get the healers, and you crash against some random building- a tool shed, maybe?

You groan, crouching down to clutch at your lower leg sporting a large gash running blood. You don’t remember how it happened. Maybe it was when you fell? You could have sliced it open on an unfortunately sharp stick.

You don’t even want to think about the fact that the stupid monster thing chasing you could have gotten close enough to claw at you.

“Hey, hey,” someone says, crouching down next to you. She’s wearing an orange shirt. Her hair is curly, her eyes are pretty and brown, and oxygen isn’t getting to your brain so she kind of seems like an angel. “Oh, wow,” she mutters, looking at your leg. “One second, ‘kay?”

“Wait,” you say, grabbing onto her forearm. She looks up at you.

“I’m going two steps away, dummy.” She laughs, and you’ll remember that sound for the rest of your life.

She leaves you, and you almost want to cry because you feel so alone. You’ve just been told you’re a demigod, then you were forced to run through the woods, your heart is still hammering and your leg fucking burns.

But she was right. It was only two steps, and she comes back, the door of what must be some sort of storage shutting behind her.

She leans back down and presses a towel against your gash.

You hiss.

“Sorry,”

“You’re not.” She laughs again. More beautiful music in your ears.

“I’m not,” she agrees.

You fall into silence, it’s so dark out, but you can see everything about her so clearly.

“You can stop breathing so heavily,” she whispers, the shouting of your satyr protector getting closer, along with what must be the healers. “Camp Half-Blood is surrounded by a magical barrier. You’re safe here. Well, at least, no monsters are gonna get you.

“O-okay,” you mumble. You aren’t sure if you believe her. You don’t think you believe anything anymore.

The healers push her away, you’re so so tired, and she stands up, dusting off her hands.

“Thank you, Clarisse,” one of the healers says. “We’ll take it from here.”

Clarisse.

—-

The purpose of Clarisse La Rue’s entire existence seems to be to drive you insane.

The way her arms flex when she wields her spear, the way she lifts her shirt up to dab at sweat on her brow; and the way you can see her toned stomach and the faintest hint of abs you would actually kill to touch. The way she smiles, even though it’s never really genuine, and the way she laughs when she’s making fun of someone.

She was the first person you met at camp, and you’re pretty sure she doesn’t even remember it, yet alone know your name.

It was ironic, as the daughter of Aphrodite, to be quietly pining over someone from the distance. And it sucked, but maybe you would just always have this quiet crush on Clarisse, and you learned to take it like you took your breakfast.

Until the start of this summer, when everyone came back to camp, it was alive again, and it all changed. And now you’re fucked.

—-

You smile, watching a few of the younger campers scream about how amazing the lake is. Summer’s just started. It’s so beautiful this time of year. They didn’t have as traumatic experiences as you, no monsters chased them right up to the barrier of camp. The lake is huge and so blue it seems otherworldly- probably because it is.

You slam into something.

It’s an awkward flare of limbs and muttered obscenities, but you manage to keep yourself upright by falling back into a very convenient tree.

“Sorry,” you say, looking up and expecting to make eye contact with anyone but her.

You haven’t been face to face with Clarisse in four years. You mouth snaps shut, and you’re sure you look like a terrified deer in headlights.

She’s frozen just like you.

“W-watch where you’re going,” she hisses, pushing you farther into the tree as she walks past you.

Did Clarisse just stutter?

—-

Clarisse stares at you.

You blush like you’re about to turn into a flamingo.

The cycle repeats.

—-

This year, the Ares and Aphrodite cabins were paired together to share the field for sword practice just before dinner. The sun is hidden by the trees, providing some nice shade as you frown at all the Ares kids sparring like their lives depend on it.

While Aphrodite kids are not the most naturally skilled in fighting, you’re still demigods, and you still have to know how to protect yourselves.

Matty, a Ares child and your sister Tyla’s boyfriend, already sparred three times, winning against his siblings, then sparred with Tyla once; which just ended with her getting bored after a minute and dropping her sword before jumping into his arms.

You watch random people spar. Everyone moves around you, Tyla and Matty are on top of each other next to you on the bench, everyone walks around you to collect their water bottles from the table behind you.

“Aren’t you gonna spar, Y/N?” Tyla asks, fiddling with Matty’s hands.

“No,” you laugh.

“That’s against the rules.”

You know that voice, you hear that annoyingly angelic voice in your dreams.

Clarisse sits down next to you. You can hear Tyla smiling. Only a few of your siblings who can be trusted to keep a secret know about your wretched crush. You’re probably blushing.

“Uh, what?” you say, looking in her direction but not risking actually looking at her.

“You have to spar,” she says, like it’s painfully obvious, kicking out her legs.

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” you shrug.

“Sounds like you’re scared, Y/N,” Matty muses.

You shoot him a bored look. “Sounds like you’re whipped, Matty.”

Tyla is currently in Matty’s lap, her hands in his hair.

“Oh, definitely,” he says, turning towards Tyla with a sweet smile on his face and she coos and immediately attaches her face to his.

“Oh, Gods,” you mutter, turning away from the two of them having borderline sex on the bench.

Clarisse laughs.

You clench your fist, you feel like you’re gonna explode being so close to her and not able to climb up into her lap and kiss her like a woman starved.

“You still have to spar, you know.”

“Are you going to tell on me?”

“Hm, no. I won’t have to.”

You finally look towards her, if only because you’re confused, but she’s looking straight out at the the distance, where a certain centaur is making his way to the fields-

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss, immediately jumping up and scrambling for a sword from the pile behind you.

You turn around, hoping one of your siblings is free so you can spar with them-

The sword is ripped out of your hands.

“That one sucks,” Clarisse says, simply, while you stand there with your mouth open. She rifles through the swords. “Use this one instead.”

The one she hands you does seem a lot easier to hold. Not too heavy, not too light.

How the hell could she tell which one is best for you just by looking at you?

“Matty,” Clarisse says. “Chiron’s coming.”

Tyla and Matty both hop up, giggling at they make their way towards one of the marked circles.

As you’re left there with Clarisse, it suddenly hits you that after four years of simple indifference, she’s talking to you like she knows you. Or like she wants to know you.

You like her too much to question it. You want her too much to be bothered as to why she’s giving you five minutes of her time.

Clarisse walks away. You thought it was going to happen, so your heart feels this sort of heavy that is indescribable, but she turns around.

“Are you coming?” she asks, deadpan.

“Oh. Uh, yeah,” you say, sticking your sword under your arm and cracking your knuckles. With Chiron showing up, she leads you to the marked circle all the way at the edge of the field, the start of the woods, the very last one.

She stops and turns around, this sort of nonchalant but smug look on her face. She reaches forward and bats your hands away from each other with a single swat that leaves you so shocked from the feeling of her skin on hers that your hands fall to your sides.

“Stop that. You’ll hurt ‘em.”

Here, right in front of the trees, the sun shining through the gaps shines off of Clarisse’s tan skin and her bronze armor in a way that makes her look otherworldly.

Clarisse’s that kind of pretty where you just never want to stop staring at her. The kind of pretty where you just want to fade into her and be next to her; the kind of pretty where nothing compares to her but it just watches her too.

Like the sun behind her, it isn’t jealous, it just admires her and shines off her skin.

She’s smirking at you, her knees bending into an offensive position, her spear pointing at you.

“He’s watching,” she taunts, and you’re really not in the mood for a lecture and the loss of dessert privileges, so you copy her.

“I’m not the best-”

She spins forward, spear arcing toward you. You yelp, raising your sword up to block her spear. They slam together.

“You’ll do fine,” she smiles, so smug in a way that makes you want to slap her and kiss her all at once.

“Whatever,” you mumble as she pulls back.

But you feel a little more confident with her praise, launching a surprise attack. She seems a little shocked, but she blocks it, probably a bit closer than normal.

“Feisty,” she murmurs.

“What the hell does that even mean?”

She launches her own attack, more force behind it this time, and it’s harder to stop her, but you do, you push her back.

“It means you’re exactly like I thought you were.”

You frown, because what is she even saying, but she launches another attack, smiling brightly as you block it, her eyes never leaving your form.

It’s a blurry of your heartbeat in your ears, her smile, the clash of her spear and your sword, the rest of the field coming to life with the sound of metal on metal, wins and losses.

Your arm is growing heavy.

But you keep your eyes open, blocking her attacks and waiting for an opening you’re not sure will ever come.

Finally, she reveals her side, and you swing, your sword clanging as it hits her metal armor.

She looks down at your sword and then you.

When she looks up again, it’s never the same.

—-

“Did you let me win that first day?”

You’re in the woods with her, so many months after that first day, and it all still feels like it was yesterday. You’re laying on a blanket on the soft grass, facing each other, limbs tangled together and her arm around you.

“Hm?” she says, slightly sleepy.

“When we sparred?”

“Oh,” she smiles, yawns. “Yeah, I let you win.”

You gasp and hit her arm.

“Clar, that’s, like, horrible. Our relationship was built on lies.”

You’re the only person allowed to call her that.

She frowns. “It wasn’t. What are you talking about?”

“I was gloating over you for months, and you let me-”

“Okay, but, you still won. I just helped you a bit. That’s what a good girlfriend should do.”

“You were not my girlfriend then.”

“Yeah, but you wanted me to be. For how long? Four years?”

You roll yours eyes. “You bumped into me once and then became obsessed with me.”

She smiles against you as she kisses your forehead.

“Who wouldn’t?” she snorts. “Not my fault you bumped into me in a way no one else ever has, angel.”

“My love language is just bumping into people, I think.”

“Then you can’t bump into anybody but me. Or else I’d kill them, probably.”

“A true romantic.”

She wraps her arms around you, muscles flexing as she pulls you on top of her.

“Only for you, angel,” she says, eyes falling closed again. “‘M cold, be my blanket.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be all rough and tough?”

“Can’t be with you,” she yawns. “Love you too much. Now shush. I’m gonna fall asleep.”

“You big baby,” you mumble. “Big bad Clarisse needs to fall asleep with her girlfriend and get her full eight hours or else she’ll go on a rampage.”

“Damn right.”

Clarisse is the type of pretty that just makes you wanna fade into her. And you do, in the light of the rising moon, the light of the fading sun. You fade into her.

—-

y/n when clarisse helps her on her first day: wow, an angel 😍😍

clarisse when y/n bumps into her: wow, an angel 😍😍

ALSO CLARISSE CALLING Y/N ANGEL???? I THINK I’VE FOUND MY NEW OBSESSION Y’ALL

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies

[thesassypadawan]

Tempo (A.J. x GFReader)

Summary: You don’t know how you let Jay talk you into this, warming him all through last call and close. But here you are… Being split open, not allowed to move… Until everyone is finally gone for the night.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut. Cockwarming, riding, slight hat abuse, and… A.J.’s big, fat dick.

Notes: I would love to hear what all you, lovelies, think! If you would like to see more of A.J.! If so...I already have so many other ideas in mind! ❤️

- A small whine escapes you and you wiggle impatiently on his lap, “Jaaay.” That is until you’re pressed against the keybed, hard enough to make you settle again… at least for the moment.

- It seems like you’ve been sitting here for hours. Listening to him play the piano, while he nurses drink after drink and splits you open with his massive cock. “Sssh, it’s all right…just feel the tempo, doll.”

- You don’t know how you let him talk you into this, warming him all through last call and close. But here you were… Not allowed to move or soothe the burning ache… Waiting for everyone to be gone for the night… So you can be rewarded.

- Huffing and pouting, sinking back into him. You’re all ready to complain some more, when a familiar voice calls from across the bar. “Sounds tight! Don’t forget to lock up this time!”

- Walls flutter, breath hitches. Frantically you readjust your skirt, concealing anything that may be showing. “Relax,” he whispers in your ear, a note of laughter in his voice. “Jake can’t see us.”

- Hands never pause once as he rocks gently to the music. Using it to cover up the way he begins to slowly buck upwards, somehow thrusting even further into your pussy. Acting like he doesn’t hear you biting back a moan, replying nonchalantly. “Thanks, man! I’ll drop the keys off in the mornin’!”

- When the sound of the side door shutting echoes throughout, you think A.J. is going to ‘finish the job’. Instead he stops playing, stills his hips abruptly. Reaches for his cigarette, taking a long drag. “Told ya, nothin’ to worry about.”

- Strangled whimpers fly from your throat, fingers grip at the dark wood. Clit throbbing more than ever. Slick seeping out of your cunt, drenching the base of his cock…your thighs. “You…you promised!”

- “I did, didn’t I?” Snuffing it out, you watch a smirk spread across his face. Big hands run up and down your sides. “Guess ya want me to fuck ya, huh?”

- Nodding, mewling softly. You squeeze around him, earning a low hiss in your ear. Gaze up with big, pleading eyes; trying desperately to coax him. ““Please…pretty please. Can’t take it any longer.”

- “Mmmh, ya have been such a good girl for me.” Long fingers trail, slip under the folds of you skirt. Finding your neglected nub; skillfully rubbing small circles on, rolling it. “Go ahead, have some fun.”

- Needing no extra encouragement, you lift off Jay’s length…to only drop back onto it. Pace already steady, an endless stream of moans falling from your lips. Lovely squelching sounds mixing with them. “Good…feels sooo good…”

- Spurred on by those words, both his hands come to rest on your waist. “Feels good?” Hold on you tight as he helps guide you, pick up speed. Sliding you quickly, hastily. “Why not make it better? Touch yourself. Wanna hear those pretty little noises ya make.”

- Happily obeying, one hand glides across your bust. Plucking at, tweaking your pert nipples through the thin fabric. The other twirls, pinches your clit. Teasing them in a way that has your pussy spasming, legs nearly giving out. Squeaking and squealing from the raw pleasure.

- With a stifled groan, his hips start moving opposite of yours. Every time you sink, he drives up. Shoving his cock deeper, forcing you to take every thick inch. “Just like that, sweetheart… Just like that…”

- Climax fast approaching. A.J. continues to fuck into you, bouncing you easily on his lap. Fat tip slamming, hitting your cervix. Making you babble and stutter; the heat rising, mind growing hazy. “G-gonna… Oh fuck, I’m g-gonna…”

- “Yeah?” He growls, tone gravelly and breathy. Fingers digging into your soft, pillowy flesh. “I will too.”

- Tugging you down hard, the coil snaps and you cry out. Body clamping, trembling. Creaming all over him…him pumping you with all that hot, sticky seed.

- “That was…incredible,” you pant, head flopping back against his broad shoulder. Once again, you’re back where you started. Sitting on Jay’s cock…stuffed in the best way possible.

- Strong arms envelope, face nuzzles into the side of your neck. Puffs of hot air tickling your skin when he sweetly mutters. “Ya look so pretty like this, all filled up by me. Think I might keep ya this way for another drink or song.”

- “All right, Mr. Big Shot, you got yourself a deal.” Reaching behind, your fingers barely graze the brim of his hat… “But you got to lose this first.” …before tipping and sending it tumbling to the floor.

- “I get it, not a fan,” he chuckles. Nipping tenderly at your collarbone, gently stroking your poor overstimed bud. “Fine, anything for ya, gorgeous. Anything to have cummin’ all over me again.”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @lotte08, @rafeswifeyy2, @exsamlockwood-kate, @sythethecarrot, @decaffeinatedunicorn, @fuckmyskywalker, @everydaydreamer

[lunajay33]

Despair🕊️

Requested by: @idkwthgoitmww

Summary: Lots of angst, reader is struggling with moving into Alexandria, she falls in a spiral of deep depression and Daryl tries everything to help

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

•Masterlist•

It’s morbid in a way to prefer life out on the road with the family you grew so accustomed to, compared to this shelter life behind walls where walkers weren’t snapping their jaws desperate to rip your skin, but in these walls, in this house, in the room felt suffocating

You shared your room with Daryl, when everyone was picking rooms Daryl took your hand and led you downstairs to the room you were now suppose to call home, but it seemed Daryl wasn’t warming up to this place either giving you a bit of comfort knowing you weren’t the only on struggling

But as the weeks went on and everyone else in the group found their purpose, even Daryl got a job with Aaron you felt left behind like something was wrong with you because you couldn’t move past the time you spent before Alexandria, the quarry where you first met Daryl, he was sassy back then that’s what had you intrigued, the time on the farm where Daryl seemed nervous asking you to share a tent with him which only grew your love for him, the prison truly felt like home, Daryl let go a little more around you and showed you how truly caring and loving he was, he is the light of your life but now in these suffocating walls you felt like you were just dimming his light

You could barely eat as your anxiety and stress drove away the feeling of hunger, all day you sat on the steps of the house seeing everyone go about their “chores” as if what happened to us didn’t happen, as if the people we lost along the way didn’t matter, as if right out side those walls wasn’t the reason everything happen, you just want Daryl to take you away just to bring you back to when you had a reason to keep fighting

You heard the comforting rumble of Daryl’s sped through the streets to stop infront of the house, he shut off the engine and made his way to you on the stairs, a bag full of whatever other in the town asked for, he sat next to you gently placing his hand on you lower back and you let out a sigh of contempt you only got now a days when he was around

“How ya feelin today sunshine?” You just shrugged your shoulders not wanting to talk about these feelings that ached in your chest

“How was the scouting?” You could see the defeat in his eyes as you never talked about what was going on and it killed you not to confide in him but it was too much, he already had enough to deal with

“Got ya somethin” he said as he started rummaging through his bag pulling out a little box placing it in your hands

You opened it seeing the shine of a silver necklace with a bow and arrow charm dangling, these were the moments that your heart warmed a bit from the hard cold brick it felt like

“Daryl…..I love it can you put it on please” he gently took the chain out of your hand as you held up your hair, feeling the cool metal charm touch your chest as he clipped it together

You turned back to Daryl with warm smile, the best you could muster

“Ya look beautiful, now come on let’s get ya some supper”

That night you stayed awake fumbling with the charm in your fingers, feeling Daryl warmth next to you as he snored, exhausted from the days work, you wished you could be better for him he deserved so much better than this frail shell of emotions

You moved closer pressing you head shading his back, your hands firm against him letting his warmth calm you down

He rolled so your face was now laying on his chest as his arms held you close

“Can’t sleep?” He asked voice still laced with sleep

“Sorry” you whispered

“Ya can talk to me angel”

“I don’t deserve you, you deserve better”

“Don’t talk like that, yer everything ta me”

The sun was quick to rise shinning through the window of the basement window Daryl still fast asleep, after the talk last night you felt like you just needed to leave, you knew what he said but it didn’t stop the feeling of being a burden so you grabbed one of his flannels and your knife and left the house heading to the gate

“Hey where are you going?” Rosita asked as she was guarding the gate

“Umm just going to look for some game”

“Alone? At this time of the morning?” She asked propping her hand on her hip

“Just open the gate Rosita” she groaned finally opening

“Don’t be gone long”

Little did she know that you didn’t plan on coming back, you walked down the road no sight of walkers just the sound of birds and crickets under the hot sun, it must’ve been hours as the sun moved over head feeling way more alive in the while being out than the months inside the walls of Alexandria, it killed you to have to leave Daryl but this was best for him not having to worry about you constantly

As you walked a walker came from the trees straight towards you and it was strong knocking you down, you’re quick to take out your knife and push it through its skull repeatedly taking out your anger, slowing as your anger morphed into tears finally letting everything out not even hearing the rumble of Daryl’s bike getting closer until he stopped right infront of you, quickly getting off and holding you in his arms

“What the hell were ya thinkin? Why would ya leave me” you could hear the hurt in his voice

“I can’t be in there anymore Daryl I can’t live like you and the rest I’m just pulling everyone down, you need more Daryl” you cried losing your breath

“We’ll find a way baby girl, cuz ya ain’t going through this alone, I love ya and nothings gonna change that, I’ll do what I gotta to make things right”

[teamatsumu]

kinktober 2023 -> day 12

public play - tendou satori x reader

word count: 607

kinktober masterlist

You’d always known Tendou was a freak in bed. Even before you two had begun dating, you had an inkling. With how unorthodox he was, anyone would’ve guessed he was less than vanilla under the sheets. What shocked them was when he got together with you.

You knew how you looked to the people of your university. Prim, proper, never a hair out of place, well-ironed clothes and clean smile, always early for class and always on top of your grades. What can you say? You were efficient.

So how had you ended up here? Dating the Guess Monster of all people? You heard the whispers follow you when Tendou walked you to class, the same class he had the gall to be skipping. You knew they wondered, and you knew that they had no idea just how similar you and Tendou actually were.

“I wish they could see you now, honey.” Tendou cooed in your ear as your body squirmed and jerked. His lean, surprisingly sturdy figure held you in place against the wall, long thin fingers wiggling inside you so carelessly that you were worried he would rip you apart. He hummed to himself right afterward in contemplation. “Well, they could very well see you. All they have to do is really look.”

And he was right, standing under the shadow of the staircase, it wouldn’t take much for the bustling crowd of students rushing through the halls to take a little breath and slow down, realizing that the huddle under the stairs was you pressed into the wall while your tall boyfriend fingered you fast and rough, his hand disappearing under the hem of your skirt.

You bit into Tendou’s shoulder to try and stifle your moans, bucking your hips into him more and more. You wanted to cum so bad, all rational thought had flown out the window long ago. You didn’t care who saw you at this point, the voices and chatter of the people long drowned out by the roaring in your ears. Tendou chuckled.

“Dirty little thing,” he had a teasing lilt to his voice. “You love this, don’t you? Getting fingered in public. Crying all over my hand. And you’re soaking, too. Way more than usual. Should I do this more often?”

You were panting at this point, breathing hard to try and compensate for your lack of moans. You were close, and Tendou could tell, from the slow stiffening of your body to how you pushed yourself closer to him, your movements getting more desperate.

“Or maybe I should drag you out there in front of everybody,” he mused, knowing what his dirty ramblings did to you, knowing they would push you closer to the end. “I should lay you out on the floor and fuck you right there, so a crowd can gather and watch you cry and cum over my cock. That what you want? Everyone to see how big of a whore you are?”

And his words worked, because the next moment you were cumming, your juices running down his hand and his wrist, his fingers moving faster and faster to prolong your orgasm as much as he could, ignoring how hard his own cock was, straining against his pants. This was enough for now, getting off on the thought of taking you in front of all these idiots who thought he didn’t deserve you. They would understand then, as they watched you cry and moan about how good his fingers felt, why you were with him. That would shut them up real quick.

And Tendou was just freaky enough to actually pull that stunt someday.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

[minhosimthings]

ENHA HYUNG LINE x PUBLIC SEX????

Exhibitionism? Sign me the fuck up bitch. Thank you for the request baby, had fun writing this!

More under the cut!

While Heeseung does prefers privacy, it takes little for his dick to get hard when imagining you naked in a changing room. Picture a scene with me, you're in a shop, hoping to buy a dress for tomorrow's event. You try one, then you try the other, showing each one to a very concentrated Heeseung, who couldn't let go of how your waist and hips molded into the dress so perfectly. God he wanted to press that body against that changing room mirror and fuck you so hard you'll be wobbling all the way home.

"Hee baby we can't-" "shh darling." He would cup a hand over your mouth, one hand reaching up the skirt of you dress and inserting his ringed fingers into your wet folds one by one, making you scream out a muffled moan, "No one's gonna hear.

Bonus: he would use one of the more shorter dresses as a gag, thriving in the way you moved to shush yourself as he rammed his cock fully into your g-spot, making you cum all over the mirror.

Jay doesn't really love the idea of fucking you in public. He's possessive, he wants you all to himself and himself only, and usually his dick and your pussy were confined to Jay's soft silk sheets. But sometimes, you get a little too horny, especially when you see him dressed in a suit, with rings on his fingers and a necklace draping a place you wanted to leave your love on."Darling wait till we get home." He'd tell you, taking another sip of his champagne, having no idea how his cologne intoxicated you.

And that's the story of how you and Park Jongsoeng were stuck in a quite spacious bathroom, him leaning against the wall, shoving his fist in his mouth to muffle himself and you, on your knees, taking his length into your mouth. "Ah-ahh fuck darling just like that." He'd whisper to no one but himself, feeling himself about to cum in your throat as he thrusts his hips forward, dick dangling at the back of your throat.

Bonus: He shoves his cum-coated fingers into your mouth to shut you up, once his fingers are out and his dick is sweeping your pussy clean.

Jake is a 24/7 horny man who loves ramyeon, his girlfriend, and her sweet cunt. And when I say 24/7 I mean 24 fucking 7. This man would probably get off in the middle of a date just by your gaze. Just imagine. You, Jake and a cute little empty hallway at a museum, where Jake, quote unquote "wanted a quick one." If there is anyone in Enha's hyung line who is obsessed with how fast they can get you to cum, it's Jake.

"No one's gonna hear, if we don't let them baby." Jake would whisper, taking off his metal necklace and shoving it into your mouth, which worked extremely effectively as a gag. Seeing your wetness soak through your panties would only encourage him more, as he discreetly took it off, his eyes still alert at the side for any peeker, and he would fuck just the tip into you, chuckling at how it made you cum. "So little and you're already cumming baby? Tch tch tch. I've gotta train you more." He'd let out a breathy laugh at seeing your face scrunch up tightly, trying not to scream holy grail into everyone's ears.

Bonus: He'd always stand very close to you, behind you, so that his hardened dick is always rubbing against your ass. Two quickies in a day never hurt did they?

Park Sunghoon is a wild child. And he often wants to make it known through his dumb crazy antics. What he also wants to make known is his high sex drive and his urge to make everyone know who you belong to. Sunghoon would fuck you on the top of a restaurant table or even in front of a glass window if he could. But unfortunately he was told that it was illegal so no balance there.

And one day, in the middle of the literal atmosphere, Sunghoon grabbed your hand and pulled you to the airplane's toilet. Thank God for his buisness class tickets, the toilets were slightly larger, just enough to fit him, with his shoulders carrying the weight of your legs, and his tongue sweeping in between your folds. "Don't you shut that mouth of yours doll, I want everyone to know whose good slut you are." He'd say, touching the perfect spot with his long tongue, making you squirm as you let out a loud moan, fulfilling Sunghoon's ears.

Bonus: "well I think she heard you doll." Sunghoon chuckles, supporting you with his hand wedged into the skin of your hips, as he listened to light taps of the airhostess on the door, "It's alright, atleast she knows whose doll you are now."

[nanivinsmoke]

✩ Black Hearted.

when the heart wants what it wants, someone’s bound to get hurt.

✩ roronoa zoro x f!reader

✩ warnings & tags : smut & angst, thick, black coded reader. established affair, no happy ending, degrading names (slut).

you held your finger up to shush the green haired, muscular swordsman that knet before you, his hair cock in your other hand, your eyes traveling down as you sucked on the swollen mushroom head.

the two of you were in the sunny’s observatory, keeping watch while the rest of the crew rested. which was a perfect opportunity for you to finally relieve your desires, the deep want to have the pirate hunter’s fat dick in your mouth.

your throat burned when you pushed him further into your mouth, but hearing his low moans and grunts only encouraged you to take him deeper. slobber pooled down the sides of your once-glossed mouth and ran down his veiny shaft. a mixture of your spit and gloss dribbled onto his deep brown balls.

you slurped, gagged, and sucked his eight inches until he finally released his warm seed into your mouth—which you happily swallowed before pulling him into a kiss. he welcomed your tongue into his mouth, tasting the remnants of himself, while your tongues danced with each other.

you could feel his dick jump against your clothed bottom, your arousal grew. “can i ride you, baby?” you purred into zoro’s ear, kissing and sucking on his broad neck, worshipping the exposed skin; while you grinded against him.

“only if you can keep quiet, you know how loud you can be while you take me” he chuckled, in between a groan; while you stimulated his sensitive cock.

“just so he could hear us. you know i love the thrill,” you bit his ear lobe, while he pulled your panties to the side underneath your skirt and pushed his sticky tip into your sopping wet entrance; earning a stifled moan from you.

your pussy clung to his cock with each stroke, squelching, and creaming around him; while he held onto your waist—ass clapping against his tan legs. and just like he predicted, your mewls and moans were loud—but you couldn’t help it, he knew exactly how you wanted to be fucked. just hearing you moan into his ear was enough for him to plunge even deeper inside of you, making your cling to his shoulder; biting his green shirt, with your eyes rolled back into your head.

soon, his very own eyes clamped shut; while the two of your bodies moved in sync with each other—orgasms both brimming at its peak, until reaching its end. your walls clamped down around his hard middle, riding out your orgasm at a fast pace; while he released his thick warm load inside of you.

you stayed like this for a while, catching your breaths; before he pulled out of you, with a small dribble of his nut following.

“it’s almost sunrise. he’s going to be up soon~”

“more reason for me to stay like this,” you sighed, basking in the moment once more before you got up and pulled your panties back to its right side, before leaving the swordsman in the observatory.

while the sun rose and morning finally shined in, you hopped in the ship’s bathhouse before everyone else, to wash off the scent of zoro; hiding your sickening secret once again. walking into the dining hall for breakfast, you were greeted by your crew and your loving boyfriend; sanji. he kissed your cheek and you swallowed your guilt like it was nothing, before sitting down to wait for your meal.

“hey luffy, we are we off to next?” chopper squeaked, jumping with excitement about their next adventure.

“some island, hopefully with lots of food. hey! has anybody seen zoro?” your ears perked up at the mention of him and the remnants of this morning flowed into your mind, causing you to press your thighs together. you must’ve had a weird expression on your face because sanji noticed it and asked if you were alright.

“oh im fi—“ your words were cut short as zoro walked in. he was shirtless, with a towel draped over his shoulders and his tooth brush hanging in his mouth. just like usual sanji and zoro picked a fight with each other about something so simple, but you tuned it out like usual; too turned on by the tan swordsman.

this affair wasn’t intentional. at least, that’s how it started off. you honestly don’t remember how it initially started, but you know you couldn’t stop fucking him. and you weren’t trying to hurt the blonde cook, you liked him and he loved you. something’s just happen. at least that’s what you told yourself.

the ship finally docked on an unknown island and most of the crew went together to explore; except for you, zoro, franky and sanji. the cyborg and chef decided to stay near the shore to fish for lunch and look after the ship, while you and zoro snuck off deep into the woods, to get off a quickie.

you lips were like glue the way they were stuck to one another, neither of you wanted to break it. he had you pressed against a tree, dominating you with his lips. after seeing him this morning and watching his muscles flex and protrude; you had to have more of him. you body needed him.

he was the first one to pull away, pressing his forehead against yours; while his fingers found their way underneath your flowy green dress—playing with your wet folds.

“so fucking wet. i turn you on like this, baby?” his panty wetting voice was deep, making you drip even more onto his fingers. your pussy began to squelch, driving the five foot ten male insane. he pushed his khaki pants down, along with his black briefs; freeing his slick coated penis.

“lift that leg up for me, momma~” you did as you were told, letting him hold you up by your legs—making it easier for him to enter you. he didn’t even let you adjust to him, pounding your cunt silly with his cock; your smooth walls clamping around him with each stroke.

you loved his dick. you craved his dick every second of every day. he was made for you and you for him.

“f-f-fuck….zo-zo-” you stuttered, too fucked out to even formulate a sentence. every time you were in his arms and filled with him, you were practically cockdrunk. he always made you feel drunk from his cock the way he would dig your guts out with each stroke and hitting your g-spot at the same time; was a skill no other man could posses; especially sanji.

“this my pussy? huh? this my fucking pussy?!” he groaned, gripping your ass while pounding harder and deeper inside of you.

“yes! yes! fuck~” you moaned into his ear, nibbling on it softly. the feeling of an orgasm creeped up on you and you closed your eyes; anticipating the feeling of it exploding inside of you.

“i love you. shit, cumming deep in this pussy.”

“i love you t—“ the sound of someone’s throat clearing scared you, forcing your eyes open to a face you did not expect to see. a few feet away from you was the male who’s heart you just broke, standing there with a tray of drinks and a cigarette in his mouth. you pushed zoro away, fixing yourself before you approached sanji, but before you even could; he turned away.

“lunch is finished, we’re about to board the ship too.” he was cold, his tone calculated as he walked away before you could even call him. you felt zoro’s hand touch your shoulder, which you shrugged away. you weren’t in the mood for him right now, especially after what just transpired.

“sanji! please, let me explain!” you yelled out, jogging to catch up to the cook; leaving zoro with blue balls.

for the rest of the day, sanji ignored you. he wasn’t trying to hear your apologies and if he needed to speak with you, he would do it indirectly so the rest of the crew couldn’t question what was going on between you two. zoro on the other hand was his usual self, sitting back and observing while he napped. from time to time he would check on you, watching how you handled the situation.

and then nightfall hit, and you were scheduled to keep watch with sanji. perfect, it was the perfect time to talk to him and he couldn’t get out of it either. when he climbed the ladder to the observatory and saw you sitting on the plush blue sofa, he sucked his teeth and pulled out a cigarette. he stood on the far end side of the room and stared at you, piercing your skin with his soulless eyes.

“sanji, look…I never meant to—“ as the lie flew out of your mouth, sanji couldn’t help but laugh at you, making you frown. you weren’t even going to continue with it, you were going to downright admit everything.

“look, i was never in love with you. not like you were with me. i accidentally fell in love with zoro, it wasn’t supposed to be this way, but it did.“

“it did? that’s all you have to say? you did the worst thing possible, but what can I expect from a slut?” you craned your head to the side and it felt like slow motion; they way you walked in front of sanji and slapped him—hard. tears brimmed your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall, he didn’t deserve them.

“im the slut?! you don’t think i notice you coming in and out of nami’s room when you thought everyone was sleep? sniffing her panties like some perverted creep? the moans coming from her room almost every night? didn’t think I knew that, did you?” there no more trying to be the bad guy anymore, he was just as wrong as you were.

he couldn’t say anything, not after his secret affair has been put out in the open. “i don’t know why i was so okay with me being the bad guy, when you’re just as guilty as i am. hurts don’t it, slut.” you couldn’t stay in the room with him any longer, those tears started to make way down you face as you climbed down the widow’s peak—mind racing with everything that transpired.

he was the reason why you cheated in the first place, he couldn’t keep it in his pants—making it easy for you not to fall in love with him. he did this, you just played his game better.

and when you finally reached the bottom, your one eyed love stood there waiting for you. but, you couldn’t face him—not today, or tomorrow. you had to leave. he followed you all the way to your room, but was met with the door slamming in his face. you ignored his calls, fighting the urge to open up the door—until he finally went away.

as night fell, you ignored your crew knocking on your door trying to see if you were alright; but you all gave them the same answer. nothing. you spent the whole day packing your things and writing a letter; before you finally escaped your room and tip toed across the deck. you snatched a compass from the ship, and dropped a boat at the edge of the ship—jumping on it and sailing away.

and when the crew finally awoke and found your door wide open with nothing it; they had began to panick—until zoro found the note you had left for the crew and read it out loud. you apologized to them for leaving and not finishing your journey with them, but telling them that this was for your own good. you ordered them not to come after you, no matter how much luffy wanted to.

the crew were upset and saddened, wondering what caused you to leave. they started to question sanji, but he said nothing and lit his cigarette; leaving the room afterwards. they left your room not too long after, to come up with a plan to find you—leaving zoro alone in your room. he had found another note you had left with his name on it and as he read it, his heart panged in his chest.

you told him how you were pregnant and positive it was his. you had known for some time now and didn’t have the guts to tell him. you told him that you loved him and apologized for how things turned out, but you would always love him. and would tell your child about him everyday.

maybe this was just another thing you were guilty of.