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retiredteabag · 2 months ago

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Hidden from sight

Synopsis: In a state of humiliation, you attempt to hide an injury from your master, Sukuna, this, of course, does not go to plan.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Foolish.

That, you were sure, was what Lord Sukuna would call you when you returned to the estate.

He was a harsh, and strict man. He never liked for you to stray from his presence too long, and more than anything else, he was mean. He said what he wanted, and always meant it.

You had begged the king of curses to allow you a day amongst the townsfolk, a day to explore the gardens outside of Sukunas domain, a day to see and hear and feel the world you so rarely saw.

The king, of course, was not too keen on this. You were not a member of kitchen staff, or a concubine, or a groundskeeper either. Like many people on the compound, you were simply a servant to the king. Yet, your relationship was not one that could be compared to your peers.

Beloved to the king, perhaps being too strong of a word. You were special to him, however. He expected your attendance at his meals or downtime. One might think you were close, but the truth of the matter was:

You hardly knew the king.

And he barely spoke to you either.

You had come to the palace an adult, knowing little of the king's mannerisms. Meeting him on rare occasions proved a thrilling experience. He was unlike any man you had ever met.

One evening, your presence was needed in the bath chamber. You had been told to assist in the cleaning of your king. Nonplussed as you were, you pled your case. An uninformed and inexperienced launderer. You were in no position to touch the king, too dirty yourself to even wish for such a position.

Having been told to never deny the king of anything he demanded, you were certain the response would not be one of pleasure. You escaped that day unscathed, a mere,

"Then depart from my sight"

Uttered from him, eyes closed, hand shooing you away.

But time passed and with the phases of the moon, so too did your relationship with the king alter. Night after night you grew more and more certain the king was calling for you directly. You grew acquainted with the king, with his bloodthirsty antics, with his unforgiving nature, with his intolerance for rebellion.

You served him through it all.

Twas' your job.

A launderer.

A foot servant for your employer.

You were sure, he would not be forgiving if you returned to his estate in such disarray. Only having warned you to be mindful a mere two hours prior, you limped from the ache in the side of your pelvis.

Your feet shook on the uneven ground beneath you. You had only just left the village you so desired to see, basket in hand full of goods to bring to your fellow maids. Evening was falling and the memory of the king's warning flooded your mind.

As you had made the trek back, the sight of a deer in the woods had shocked you. Certain you were looking at a curse, you gasped, lunged for cover, and promptly tripped over a stone lining the path through the woods.

Too eager to protect the contents of your basket your hands had been too occupied to catch your weight. You were certain there were scratched on your knees, but the real pain came from just above your hip, where an ill-placed stone had bludgeoned your flesh.

Dark red sept through your kimono, it had never looked so much like your kings. But he would not be pleased. Of this you were sure.

Foolish.

Too easily frightened.

Weak.

You knew little of Lord Sukuna's vast abilities. One thing you knew for certain was that the king had the ability to feel the souls of those around him. He knew when someone was guilty when someone was excited and fearful. He could sense it as if he was feeling those things himself. For this reason, before drawing too close to the palace gates, you steadied your heart and mind, reaching for peace as to not alert Sukuna of your presence so soon.

You went first to the washhouse, and rid yourself of the filthy clothes. After which, you were at once able to see the depth of your injuries. It had hurt, your way back to the palace, but after seeing them for what they were, you had to fight to keep the spike of panic from rising. How could you hide this? Hide it from him?

You wash your kimono of the coppery smell, disposing of it behind a pile of extra wash bins. You occupy your hands by dabbing at the open wound, wrapping yourself in a linen cloth, and dressing in one of the extra cleaning uniforms.

You were so caught up in walking in a straight line back to the estate, you almost forgot your gifts and whine out at the thought of making the trip back to the wash house. But you steel yourself and do it.

By the time you make it to the kitchens, it is far later than you intended. You simply drop the basket off on a staff table, wobbling to your chambers.

All you want is to sleep, to hide yourself from all the noises of the estate night shift, but the throbbing pain in your side is intense, and worse, you've bled through both your linen bandage as well as a laundry uniform. Even so, you are too tired to come up with a way to right this, you decide, that will be the job of tomorrow y/n.

Of course, when you arise the next morning, unable to sit up, you regret your choices of the night prior. Unintentionally a wail escapes your lips, the pain is so deep, so unchanging that you want to cry. You feel the humiliation once again from yesterday, what would Sukuna say if he knew of this? Would he remove you from the estate? Or would he simply look at you with disgust? Would he ever speak to you again?

Something you were sure of, at least, was that there was no way you would be able to work, bent over a wash basin, in the condition you are in. Knowing that, you were concerned with how long you could hide away in your chambers before someone came to get you.

Several maids had already come to speak through your door, asking about your trip, the basket of goodies you left in the kitchen, and eventually, in concerned tones, if you were alright.

You reassured them in a comforting voice that you were quite well but exhausted from your journey and would likely retire before dinner was served.

You had never been up however, still, the other launderers did not question your words, sure you just needed a nights more rest. There was, however, a person in the estate you could never evade, and contrary to popular belief, it was not Lord Sukuna. He certainly did not care enough for you to need to hide yourself from him, however, his loyal servant and chef, Uraume, always had everything in order and was aware of all the "goings on" that occurred within the estate walls.

Only a few minutes after the communal dinner bell was rung did Uraume arrive at your chambers, requesting your presence. Unfortunately, they were not so easy to dissuade. I have no appetite did not work, I long for rest, did not work, I tire from my journey, did not work. None of it worked. They were determined, if nothing else, to see you. There was nothing to be done.

In a grand effort, you slid from your bed to the floor, a dull moan muffled by the mattress as you strained your legs to rise but it was a tireless endeavor. Wincing, you shuddered to the door, opened it a crack to meet th Uraume's stern eyes.

"You are unwell." They announced.

You knew you could not lie, not directly. Still, you attempted to fib your way around it, claiming your menstrual cycle was nearing, but it did not work, claiming you had eaten something foul in the village, they merely squinted at you, you were blundering, grasping for straws. In your desperation, you did not notice Uraume's foot slip out to the threshold, slowly pressing your door ajar.

You had been resting your weight said door, and yelped at the pressure. The chef raised an eyebrow and pressed on more firmly. You called out their name and stumbled to the floor.

"You've been attacked?" They question but the pain is so intense you can simply shake your head, in a show of patience you rarely see from Uraume, they brush the hair from your face.

You knew they could use reversed curse technique on themself, but the management of this injury was something that would likely take time.

In the moments it took Uraume to lift you to your bed, and start to clean your wound they had you recount the story, in between each sentence you begged them to keep this from the king. Do not say a word, I beg, followed by, I pray you wouldn't speak of this, ending your story with Lord Sukuna mustn't know.

Even with all the begging, they never once promised you a thing. Pressing your gouged pelvis more firmly still, they wiped your eyes of tears. And when you finally met their gaze, their look seemed to whisper, do not be stupid. You could only hope.

Your hope had been stupid.

You knew it had been last night when Uraume had bandaged you up, you knew it had been when you fought to dress yourself this morning, you knew it had been when you trudged to the wash house, you knew it had been when you began to set up a bin full of sudsy water and even now, bent painfully over, scrubbing away at towels, you knew of your fate.

You had been invited to dine with the king. Once dismissing yourself for not being worthy to wash your king's body had been shockingly, acceptable at one time. But you knew you could not skirt this. You could not deny your presence to him twice.

And in his presence, you knew you could not hide. Uraume had been the one to collect you before the evening meal, washing you, clothing you, and redressing your wound. You walked with intention now, three steps behind the personal chef to the king. You found, however, that you would not be having dinner in one of the many dining rooms, but rather, in the kings chambers.

In an attempt to plead once more, you made to grab Uraumes robe, they simply gave you a look of greatest disdain, opened the door to Sukunas chambers, and bowed.

You could not meet his eyes, you could feel them as they traced over you. Despite the fiery pain, you fell to your knees. You did not speak, Uraume left, and you stayed glued to the floor.

"I hold no affection for those who hide from me."

You could do nothing but nod in your place on the floor. "Yes, my king."

"You know this."

"Yes, my king." You nod again,

"And yet-" You can hear his voice ever louder, he has gotten up from his place on the bed, coming to you, his steps echoing in your ears. "You evade me like an elusive snake." He paces around you steadily. "You hide yourself from my presence, and you beg" He spits it out, vehement, "beg- Uraume to keep your condition from me."

He has stalked behind you now, and begins to creep ever closer to your side, bending to your position to whisper in your ear,

"Did you believe I could not find you, did you think, even for a moment, you could fool me?" You cannot read his tone, nor his face, too ashamed to look.

He stretches back to his full height. "You have always been the one who's appearance I delight most in. Yet, now, you only appear at my demand. Must I demand you to speak as well in order for you to tell me why you have shamed me so?"

Shaking your head quickly, you heave, "I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I did not want to- to show you-" You began but Sukuna cuts you off, whirling around,

"That much is very clear. Tell me why without the blabbering nonsense. I wish not to hear apologies fall from your lips now."

You murmur once more, ashamed, but speak up, "I am such a fool." You look up, resigning yourself, you want to see his face, "I wished not for you to see me as such. I am a weak and poor worker. Please, know, I did not mean to shame you."

Sukuna does not respond. Silently making his way to your form, "You cannot even stand on your own. Do you intend to lay there all night, or do you expect aid to be granted to you?"

He sounds genuinely curious, you are unsure of what to say, you had no plan. Your head falls to your lap but in a sudden movement, Sukuna is before you, one arm stretched out to catch your crestfallen face, "Look at me." He speaks gentler than you have ever heard.

With one hand on your jaw, and another cupping the back of your head he huffs air from his nose. "You are a fool."

You cannot look away from him, but all you want now is to hide your face.

"So very foolish." He speaks clearly, "To hide from me, to work in such a condition." Before his words even hit you, you are struck but the grasping of your waist by his other two hands. His eyes remain open but within a moment all your pain is gone. An unintentional noise escapes you at the immediate relief you are brought.

It cannot be said whether the shock of Sukunas RCT or the grasp he had on you caused you to fall limply into his grasp but you have no time to prepare before he is lifting you tenderly into his arms. An unseen sparkle in his eyes. He carries you the few feet to his bed before he lays you across his lap.

"Your condition is not ideal. You shall not work. You are to stay with me" He is petting your hair rather oddly, as if you are a wounded animal he has found.

Attempting to rise you start, "I feel- I- I must extend my gratitude-"

But he is placing a hand on your stomach to keep you down, "You will extend your gratitude by never hiding from me again."

There is no room for argument. You nod up at him. He has one arm still under your knees, another on your waist, and a third stroking your cheek.

"I will never allow you pain again." He murmurs. "Never again." His palm is large enough to cover your face wholly. "I shall keep you within my sight henceforth."

And it is at this moment that you wonder if, perhaps, you are closer to the king than you had originally thought. If you, by chance, meant something to him? If he had been worried for you. But in your dazed state within your king's arms, you smile to yourself, thinking tiredly of how kindly and merciful he had always been to you.

What you did not yet know, was that it was he that was a fool for you.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

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scrawlingskribbles · 1 year ago

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god. I am. so Well-Fed right now hgjsfdhggdshsdgkj;;;;

#already got blessed with the snack that was the 2x11 intro scene #and then along comes 3x12 saying Aww That's Cute; Hold My Beer and serving an entire gd three-course **meal**#/listen/. okay. you give me a one-on-one fight scene full of snarky banter set to music with a sick beat and I am **swooning** okay??#I am the Target AudienceTM for that alright idk if I'm gonna recover from this gjhsjkldgh x'3333 #yes yes I know there was also like At Least one other scene Kinda like that with Clary & Izzy but like. it wasn't the SameTM vibe yanno??#something something Two Nickels of Alec weapons-sparring turned hand-to-hand sparring and then getting annihilated in the grapple ghjhdfhg #god there's no way we'll get a Third Nickel before series' end but tbph that's probably for the greater good #bc I think I'd legitimately have a heart attack if the ante upped any further from here fghgHDGJDG x'3c #AnYwAyS I need to go lie down or something I think lmfaooooo okay gbye #shut up Wisp

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pomefioredove · 3 months ago

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may I please request Headcanon of the overblot gang + Adeuce when a reader that’s normally very sweet and shy goes absolutely apeshit and TEARS INTO some bully, absolutely roasting the hell out of them please? Thank you :3

of course anon!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ going apeshit!!!!

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, ace, deuce, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

being the magicless newcomer makes you a favorite target for some of Night Raven College's less kindly students.

your loved ones know this, too, so when a group of brutish first years approach, they're ready to defend you. except...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Riddle had seen them coming towards you and already had his hand on his magical pen

how stupid of them to pick on you in his presence

a week or two without their heads would serve them well

but before he can even step between you and the ruffians (very gallantly, I might add; he had it all planned out in his head),

you just...

...oh

even he blushes at the profanity you spew

he didn't even get to scold them

...then you turn back to him with that same sweet smile as if nothing had happened

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ace had actually been the first student to get an earful from you

once at the beginning of the year, and never again

now, he takes great pleasure in watching you verbally eviscerate the other students

it's a... guilty pleasure, we'll say

and Deuce knows not to intervene

he tried... once

after all, he's been in your place before

nothing's better than the feeling of putting some snob in his place

BUT OF COURSE, that's the old Deuce

...he just lets you go on because he knows he can't stop you

...not because he's enjoying it. obviously

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

and here Leona was, thinking you were some helpless little herbivore...

but can you blame him?

you're always so... cute

skipping around Savanaclaw, all happy to be helping out Ruggie and Jack after practice...

you were bound to run into trouble, looking like an easy meal

he almost feels... bad for you...

but before he can step in and tell the freshies to buzz off, you...

damn, you've got a mouth on you

you switch up real quick on them, and they scamper off to go lick their wounds

color him impressed...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul was on his way back to the dorm when he heard you shout

you sounded... upset

and as much as he would like to, he can't just walk by and let you get bullied

damn sympathy...

so, he follows the sound of your voice, ready to intervene... on...

...nothing

a group of embarrassed freshman run past him, scattering in the opposite direction

he steps around the corner

and there you are, perfectly fine, if not a little winded

...of course

and he didn't even get to be your hero... tch

"Always full of surprises, aren't you? Just don't give Floyd any of those new words to use,"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

it's none of his business... it's none of his business...

until it is his business

Jamil wouldn't have come running to your rescue like some prince

but he is in the middle of a civil conversation with you!

how insulting! honestly!

those freshmen must take him for some kind of witless fool

just this once, he'll teach them not to disrespect him...

of course, he doesn't even get a word in

he's never seen anyone so...

so...

...brutal

your insults are poignant, your tone sharp and dangerous, your usage of puns perfect...

you're like a work of art

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil has no problem with putting others in their place

and he has a particular dislike of the brutish, arrogant students at NRC

he can actually sense their unwashed presence in the hall before he sees them

one little snide comment and...

...oh...

oh, my

you verbally tear them to shreds, insulting everything from their shoes to their posture, their cowardice, even their own insults

...goodness

he's going to have to have a talk with you about your language later

but, for now...

...he's enjoying this little performance of yours

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia starts the most heated discourse over his faves and biases online, but this is different

this is real life

and the second he can feel a shift in the atmosphere, he's hiding behind you

you can handle it yourself, right? you've done it before!

honestly, he has no clue how you deal with the normies at this school

delusion, probably

he'd die if anyone talked to him the way they talk to...

...NEVER MIND!

you're using words he hasn't even heard in real life

even he is freaked out

you can get real scary when you want to, huh?

...maybe he'll just stick with you for now...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

poor Malleus

he actually kinda sorta wanted to defend your honor...

he could be your fairytale prince!!! he could!!

it's the gentlemanly thing to do, anyway

and, better yet, he wouldn't even have to say anything! just one glare from him and the perpetrators would run screaming

...the one benefit to his reputation

but, of course,

you are not as innocent and weak as you seem

and he can't help but feel... impressed? with your ability to defend yourself

after this is all over, he'll have to joke that you should join his guard

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader

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obsessivevoidkitten · 1 year ago

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In The Minotaur's Maze

Male Minotaur Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Violently painful noncon, mild bleeding from sex, size difference, belly bulge from massively huge dick, mild mention of musk, stalking, kidnapping, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 980 (Tried to make a drabble, failed again with a mini-fic instead. Oops. This is one of my very few works, so far, that is technically fanfiction as Asterion is the canon name of the Minotaur in Greek mythology.)

You were a talented explorer seeking ancient relics for fame and fortune.

You used a combination of minor magic to speak to the dead and serious investigation to discern the location of the fabled Minotaur labyrinth.

It was deep within an enchanted cave system that in many ways served as an extension of the maze hidden away within.

You carefully navigated the treacherous caves until you came upon the secret entrance. You placed your hand in the middle of a smooth wall and uttered the magic incantation.

The wall dissolved in a flash of light, and you stepped through the entrance as the stone reformed behind you. This was it. You were in the maze proper. What secrets lie ahead?

Of course, you knew the legends of Asterion the Minotaur, but he had been slain in them. And nothing could live so long anyway, especially without food.

You navigated the stone corridors easily. Despite their age, they still looked brand new. As you continued on, you occasionally heard what sounded like hooves plodding along behind you.

You pushed it from your mind. Your imagination was playing tricks.

As you stepped around a corner, you came to a wooden door and opened it. When you stepped through, gone were the twisting stone paths filled with the scent of earth.

Instead, there was an ancient style dwelling overlooking some farmland growing a variety of trees, bushes, and vines.

The door you had come through was still behind you, you closed it and from this side it looked like a door to a shed. So the labyrinth had pocket dimensions… You had heard about them in passing. You wondered how large it was. The realm may look like an idyllic farm on earth, but if you went far enough away, you'd surely hit an invisible wall.

Perhaps the door to the house would lead further into the dungeon.

As you got closer, you realized how large it was. When you pushed the big door open, it actually was a house. Albeit with furniture that was made for someone very large.

Suddenly, you felt a hot breath at your neck. You turned to find the very large, naked Minotaur staring down at you. He was a hairy wall of muscle. One with the head of a bull, complete with metal tipped horns. His legs were covered in dark fur and ended in large hooves, and his full nutsack dangled beneath a frighteningly large prick.

Before you could react, the Minotaur grabbed you and pulled off all your clothing.

You had no idea how Asterion could have survived all this time. He had been killed!

But apparently, he hadn't gotten the memo.

In the past, he had consumed most humans that wandered into his labyrinthine prison, but you were bravely entering his home, his nest.

You weren't cowering like the old sacrifices. Well, you weren't before he grabbed you anyway.

That, combined with him being in rut and driven insane by thousands of years of isolation, made him not consider you as a meal for even a moment. You were firmly in the mate category in his brain.

So small and cute.

You writhed and fought to get out of his grasp but he ignored your greatest efforts as if they were nothing.

Asterion licked at your face as you pleaded with him to let you go.

He couldn't understand your language but he could guess at their meaning.

But he had no intention of ever letting this new mate of his go.

He tossed you down on the bed and you now saw what he intended to do.

His hard cock now at full arousal, as large and thick as a man's arm.

"No no no! Pleasepleasenono!!!" Your words blended together in a garbled panic as his musk hit your nose, sharp and dominating.

The only preparation your entrance received was a few gobs of slimy Minotaur saliva before he slammed inside you.

You shrieked.

It felt as though your entrance was on fire. As if it was being ripped apart.

With every thrust you shuddered in pain and sobbed. Nearly incoherent cries for mercy dribbled from your lips and fell on deaf ears.

You felt so warm and tight around him. This was just what he needed. Surely you had been sent to Asterion in his time of need by the gods. They finally, after eons, granted him mercy in the form of your insides.

So pliant to his girthy cock. Every time he dove back into you the outline could be seen in your stomach.

Tears streamed down your face as you silently wept, no longer able to scream or even babble your silly little pleas for it to stop.

Asterion wished he could tell you how well you were doing. That you were such a good cow for him. That you fit his cock so perfectly.

But he couldn't, so instead settled for licking and nibbling at your neck before wiping your tears away with his broad tongue.

With a final thrust he filled your belly visibly cum.

When he pulled out a torrent of his seed rushed down your thighs, it had noticeable streaks of pink from bleeding. You were such a fragile little thing compared to him.

He hadn't been able to hold back since that was the first time he had ever sought release inside of someone before, but he made note to be more careful.

Even though the breeding had stopped you were helpless. Broken. At least for the moment. You still cried silently, feeling utterly invaded and defiled.

Asterion took the time to lick you completely clean before laying down beside you and holding you close, spooning you with his mighty arm as you shook beneath it.

You came here to explore the deepest reaches of the maze... but had your deepest reaches explored instead...

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #monster boyfriend #yandere x reader #gender neutral reader #yandere monster #male yandere x gn reader #Yandere Minotaur #Minotaur x Reader #Yandere Greek Mythology #Yandere Asterion the Minotaur #Asterion the Minotaur x Reader #yandere fanfiction

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barnacles34 · 1 month ago

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Momentous Entropy (Yujin x Male Reader)

Yujin x Male Reader

Warning: Smut, 7k+ words

The door accelerated open, showing a peek of a small dorm. Yujin’s head popped out from the door’s side, her face entirely shaped by a beautiful smile— eyes morphed into two crescent moons facing downwards.

Despite her giggling shyness, she stopped hiding behind the door. She welcomed me in, still with a brilliant smile, “Welcome Professor Eunwoo! Welcome to my dorm.”

“I know it’s small compared to your penthouse or whatever you were talking about with your coworkers, but it’s great for deep, focused work.” She snuck in the stalker-level information in between two welcoming remarks.

“Thanks for welcoming me here.. Wait.. What?” I only caught the intrusion mid-sentence.

She knew I heard her—word for word. It was mutualistic to not ruin the moment with heedless questions in the specifics, we’d forgotten whatever we talked about a moment ago; rather, focusing on each other's faces.

Of course, I would never let her know. It’s an apprenticeship after all, I’d be brought down with all the academic reputation I have if I even considered anything remotely intimate.

As I entered her dorm, I noticed something unusual. She wore a formal skirt with a white shirt and even her hair seemed to have been carefully molded for a grueling amount of time. Why did she dress up so vibrantly even though all she wore outside were casual clothes? Of course, I would never look her up and down, that would be a grave mistake, my peripheral vision was enough, my imagination did the rest.

I looked away immediately when my imagination went onto a wholly inappropriate tangent, instead I appreciated the clean place, clean of a single speck, the wallpaper matted with a freshness that couldn’t be faked with a single day of cleaning; the nice smell loomed over the place, something flowery, something inherently feminine, I was beginning to feel out of place.

There’s something poetic about a beautiful person being a beautiful human being as well, though I used two synonyms to describe something inherently different, I’m sure you get what I’m saying. She was good-looking, diligent, smart, clean, the list goes on and on. Sometimes attractive people have some of the most vapid, vanitous, vain lives; sometimes, it’s refreshing to see someone just so contrary to that common belief.

I was walking slowly while she went to her room to set up, I paced my steps to not seem awkward by standing too still or pacing around her entire dorm.

She came out of the door, her eyes were not morphed by a smile, rather two large pupils akin to a labrador stared straight at me.

Some people’s stares immediately make you uncomfortable, angry even, their voided personality that can only be filled with continued staring. Yujin was rather supplemented by the stare, her intense rich inner-life always apparent, her natural charisma exuding throughout.

The thought was broken when Yujin said, “Mr. Eunwoo, before we get started, I know you forget some of the essential parts of life, like breakfast.” She swiftly went to the countertop, opening some cupboard and pulling out an already-prepared breakfast.

“Why do you have a full meal in the cupboard?” I was completely stumped, there is never anything consistent with Yujin.

“I don’t know, just in case, you know, if you tried to stop me from serving you breakfast.”

“Why do you want to serve me breakfast in the first place? This is inappropriate. Wholly.”

“Please!~ Just try it!” Her eyes glistened, displaying how determined she was to get me to taste it.”

I obliged her for once. The breakfast was great, it was just too foreign, everything was opposite of what I’ve lived on; familiarity lied in the dusty libraries, the cramped, yet cozy study rooms, the decrepit dorms. Yet, I’ve gotten too successful, my quality as an academic has deteriorated too quickly, the distracting throes of fame, money, power however unattractive were always pushed onto me by those I used to hold close. I’ve resented success for however long I’ve held it, never has it ever contributed to my learning.

Yet, could this be an aspect of success? An attractive young lady, serving breakfast, serving a jet black coffee with enough caffeine to sedate rather than stimulate. Hold on, how does she-

“How do you know my coffee preference?” I asked, again, alarmed.

“That’s–um, I don’t know, based on my deduction, you know, like your disheveled appearance, I just assumed you lived off of caffeine.” A smile formed again, this time, a smile of victory over me, a rare enough event for a celebration.

“You’d be right.” Slightly, I scoffed at her remark, gladly sipping the bitter coffee.

Just like that, she already made me feel welcome, warmed up to the most foreign of places.

How could she do that? Is it on purpose? I can’t just ignore the influence she has over me, even if she is a student and I, a professor. I’ve always fought, fought and fought for everything, everything; the simplest of things failed at least a dozen times. Do you understand the disparity of it all? From failing at least a hundred times to now, an empathetic kindness, a warm smile greeting me regularly. I’m aware the description is akin to describing a drug, an addiction, I’m completely aware of it, and I’m desperate. Desperate for this continued exchange, and that’s why I willingly, so perpendicularly of my nature, succumb.

When I snap back to reality, the calm environment filled my sensory world. The white walls are furnished with small plants attached to the wall. I looked back at the kitchen, to check if Yujin was still there—she had planted her elbows on the countertop that I was sitting at, on the other side, her chin held up by her two fists, her cheeks were slightly squished and she was staring directly into my eyes.

“What’re you doing?” I ask.

“Nothing. You were so focused on that wall, I just thought it’d be interesting to stare at you.” That’s right, she’s also adept at mocking.

“Alright. Alright you brat, let’s get on with it. Where did we leave off last time?”

“Something about an assessment for me to continue being your apprentice.”

“Right. Right, I remember.”

“You don’t even carry around notes? For your ‘apprentice’?”

“Don’t need to”

“Ok, well, follow me, you’re gonna have to sit cross-legged on the floor.”

“Fine by me, lead the way.”

“Tired or sitting on gold-plated chairs, Mr. Eunwoooo?” Though her teasing was getting a little obnoxious, maybe the first-time visit to her dorm has her more anxious.

I scoffed at the reply, and followed to sit next to her on the coffee table, with enough distance as to make our apprenticeship obvious.

As do all our sessions, it starts cold, detached, at least compared to the end. Near the end, it becomes a warm haze, a studious discourse turns into something enjoyable, something that genuinely complements your life beneficially.

That’s also a reason why I continue to speak to Yujin. These unforeseen, unconsidered degrees of freedom had gone out of control, and inevitably, the attachment I had to being an academic was on its last string, its last stitch.

Only a fixation, a continued mutualistic companionship with Yujin has seemed to crutch my skill. And, I’m willing to go against all my morals to continue it.

It can be easily inferred that I’d let Yujin pass with flying colors to be my apprentice. Hiding it, though, is an entirely different story that I’d have to consider deeply through the assessment.

Of course, there’s always an optimism to expect in the radius of Yujin, the soft carpet, the flimsy coffee table.

Despite this, the assessment was rough, she was missing questions on purpose, and I couldn’t call her out for it because I was purposely trying to modify it in a way that she was always somewhat correct; in academia, this was enough, more than enough, even ground-breaking. But, this wasn’t even close to enough for Yujin, she was already suspicious of my bullshittery and in the 5th question, a free-response that I’d modified. She frowned deeply, her eyes glistened in a sort of sadness.

She spoke with disappointment, mostly with herself, “Why are you trying to make me pass? It’s obvious that the answers that I have are completely wrong, I can tell in the glint of your eyes.”

In order to trick Yujin, I’d have to have a near perfect system—a small gear falling out was all it took for Yujin to catch it.

“Before you freak out, these are questions for my PHD students, you’re a freshman, of course I’d have to modify it.”

“But why are you teaching me, an undergrad, instead of your usual PHD students?”

“Huh?” I was stumped, she was as intelligent as a fox.

Her eyes were melancholic, dark with a sort of sadness, disappointment.

“Why do you teach me?” She added on, then continued, “all your students did nearly the same thing as I did to gain some sort of favor, perhaps I tried slightly harder. I guess I argued with you a little more, challenged your authority, but anyone that did that was swiftly punished by you. I guess I was more insistent to be taught but you shoved off anyone that did that, except me. Why me? You’re not doing it for the money, you have plenty of it and I don’t have any. This doesn’t progress your career as well, you’re teaching a freshman about something that’s so ingrained that you don’t need notes for it.” Slowly her deduction processed what she was saying, and she was getting dangerously close to the answer.

I’d have to go on a tangent to another reason.

“I don’t know, maybe that you’re particularly bright, and I mean it, I know you feel like an idiot sometimes; it’ll never be as bad as how I felt it, god, if I was half as smart as you are when I was a freshman, I might’ve found the philosopher’s stone by now.”

“You’re so bad at giving compliments.” She laughed into her forearms that went to wipe her not-yet flowing tears.

“I mean it.” I replied quickly.

“No you don’t”

“If I tried to do an apprenticeship with my freshman self I’d be on death row the second day.”

It seemed to brighten the mood, she laughed harder, and.... and cried harder into her knees.

Confused by the contradiction of her actions, I just looked away, trying to offer some measure of comfort by just being present.

“I’m sorry, when I sta-start crying I just can’t stop.”

Even when she’s crying, a torrent of emotions pouring out, I don't feel uncomfortable.

“I’m here, Yujin, I’ll wait.”

“Thank you, Mr. Eunwoo-hick-it’s not your fault, I just feel extra emotional these days…”

Everytime she tried to continue with the assessment, her tears seemed to continue flowing, albeit a little slower.

“Hold my hand Mr. Eunwoo.”

“What?”

She sniffled, “Just hold it, it’ll help me stop crying.”

“Alright, alright.” I said as calmly as possible, not saying anymore, grasping her hand tightly.

She was sniffling—not crying—beside me, the distance that we had had closed a little. To say this was a foreign experience was an understatement, a relevant example would be to compare it to would be: a cat in zero gravity, I’d recommend watching some videos of it.

Yet I didn’t feel any reflexive reaction to this novel experience, I only held harder and felt ever-present in the experience

Suddenly, she whimpered, her hand reflexively moved.

“Ow, sorry, I’m not yet used to the tight grip.” She softly said.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, I like it, continue.” Her head finally seemed to release from her damp forearms, her eyes were slightly red.

As I grasped her hand to a firm level, she put her head on the couch seat, her hair slightly splaying out, her eyes looking at the ceiling.

She whispered, “I know you like me.”

“I-” A flourish of heat went straight to my face, everything seemed to be burning down today.

“I like you too.” She continued.

“Please, think about what you’re saying.” I sputtered out, trying to adjust her projected advance.

“I can’t hide it anymore, I just can’t. I’m delicate, I have my heart on my sleeve… but I’ve never been so sure of it—nothing else has ever made me feel this way: no friend, no family member, no passion. You can continue saying that I’m naive, that it’s my first time, that it’ll pass…” Her words start becoming a jumble, as if all that she wanted to get out in a short manner wasn’t enough, as if all that crying was because of what she had to say.

She continued, “I know you’re a professional, that no matter what I say, you’ll decline, even if you liked me. I had to cry because of it, not because I was getting things wrong, I could care less about that… It was the fact that I can no longer handle admiring you from afar, I had to vocalize my appreciation, even if it was all for naught.”

After a brief silence, she continued, “I just had to get this off my chest, even if you despise me now, even if you run away now.”

She looked away, expecting me to walk away while giving her a stare of pure hatred.

She was still looking at the ceiling, trying to prevent more tears from flowing down. I leaned my head back on the couch seat and looked at the ceiling.

“I love you.” I finally said, shaky with a risky determination.

“What?”

“I love you.”

Her hand gripped tightly, her hands were noticeably shaking.

“What now?” She stuttered out.

“I don’t fucking know.” I sighed—sighing deeper than I’ve ever sighed—I also felt an immense pressure release from something grabbing me from within.

“Why don’t we go ahead with the assessment?”

“After all that?”

“Yeah, I mean I feel like a huge burden has been lifted, I just wanna see if I perform better.”

“Alright, if that’s what you want.” I pulled my head from the couch seat, and sat—facing her.

After a lengthy discourse, one that stretched for more than an hour judging by how we both had to correct our posture at least a dozen times. And, within that discourse, Yujin was infallible, every question was answered with lengthy consideration with the nuance, the specificity, the word choice.

Near the end, it went something like this: “Foucault’s theory states that the evolving system of penal systems aligns, or in parallel, with everything around us. Before, in medieval ages, violent spectacles of blood and gore were prioritized as punishment, no additional consideration for the esotericism within. Whereas, now, the spectacle of violence is wholly shunned and penal systems focus on shaping the soul, rehabilitating the mind. However, the application of this idea has been rather controversial, and it could be explained with the idea of the panopticon: with the growing concern of shaping the mind, which is almost like a black box, penal systems have a growing habit of surveilling more and more.”

Yujin stared at me for some sort of confirmation.

“And?” I waited expectantly.

“And, this panopticon can be applied to anything, schools, hospitals, even changing cultural norms.”

“Wow, I have to say, how much did you prepare prior to this?”

“Prior to this? A lot, a lot of work.” Her voice was confident, a far cry from her whimpering only a moment ago.

“How do you not sleep in my lectures considering the fact that this material is so much more advanced than the class you take?”

“I can just stare at you.” Her head was getting closer—I didn’t care. In the beginning of the assessment, we were separated by plenty of space—enough to clearly show it was a professional exchange. By the end, we were shoulder-to-shoulder, side-by-side, speaking cordially, even despite our physical contact.

“Awfully bold for someone who cried in front of her professor for like half an hour straight.”

“Ugh! Don’t remind me.” Her face cringed.

I bit my lip, looking down—the mood was serene, it’s just that I keep getting reminded that I’m willingly participating in a mutual seduction between professor and student.

Fuck all of it.

I pulled my hand out of her hand—before she could demand that I return my hand—I wrapped my arm around her upper back, with my hand wrapping at the end of her shoulder.

Her posture straightened during the process, of course the forbidden path was still on her mind, still latent and not yet brought to fruition. But she quickly adapted, she looked to her side, at me, smiling warmly.

“It’s so amazing. How many hints have I had to give out?”

“Don’t act like you manipulated me to do this.”

“How else would the great Eunwoo betray his values? Just a wisp in the wind?”

“You brat, don’t forget my honorifics.”

“What? I couldn’t hear you… Eunwoo.”

I quickly pull her in, with my hand shielding the back of her head before I pushed her onto the floor, a soft tuft sound. I was on top of her, between the couch and coffee table, with her legs locked between mine.

Her doe eyes were on full display, her large pupils were somehow dwarfed by her eyelids which opened wider, the whites of her eyes under and above the pupil visible. She was shocked, taboo aside, it’s likely she’s never even experienced something like this.

“Can I kiss you?” Four words. These four words were all that I could think of, fantasize about for these past months. She’d accept of course, they all did—in the past. Still, there’s an immeasurable tension, an uncertainty without even weighing in the consensual agreement.

Perhaps some part of the tension was the taboo, that a professor was about to ruin the makeup of a freshman; smudge her lipstick, suck her lips until they were swollen; the condensation of love-making staining, blending in the carefully sculpted makeup with her natural beauty.

I didn’t hear the agreement, in part due to the fact that Yujin herself brought her head up to kiss me. Unfortunately, some care was forgotten, the way I had to grab Yujin's head led to a soft collapse onto the carpet, her head making a soft thump, our teeth clicking from the force. A collaborative soft chuckle escaped through the smallest of air leaks between our lips—a testament to our dedication to continue kissing, then it was airtight again, her soft lips glided over mine, her taste so feminine, so ephemeral.

It was obvious she was chaste, perhaps even ‘unclaimed’, her virginal lips were erratic, confused, yet so fucking shamelessly hot. Her low moans vibrated more in my mouth, goading me further, to enter deeper into her soft, welcoming mouth.

Slowly, steadily, our tongues entwined, the kiss was less air tight to allow for a more dynamic, sensual french kiss. Her mouth was begging, I was obliging, there was never a fairer exchange, as if her mouth was made for mine, and hers for mine.

Suddenly, she managed to push me over, until I was face-up, staring into Yujin’s eyes. This was the first time our eyes met during the makeout session, there wasn’t a single word that could explain what we needed to do; besides, our glazed eyes, slick with lust, spoke more than a one-dimensional tool like language. A small chuckle escaped our lips when our lips met in the middle, her head positioning lower, my head higher in the air, until my goading hands, entwined in her angelic soft hair pulled her head down. Our lips slotted in like perpendicular lines, no matter how awkward it felt, it just felt right, as if it were the most lustful way of expressing our unbridled affectations.

My hands explored her clothed body, exploring the beauty on me—who is restlessly, yet in a fierce, virginal way exploring every inch of my mouth—her beautiful curves were soft, pliant, firm, any press had an opposing force—an illegally soft opposing force. She was an angel—an angel on top of me, unaware of how much I wanted to ruin her.

“You’re going to regret it.” I say, in between wet kisses on Yujin’s lips. “This is the only thing I’ve been sure of.” Yujin replied, her voice husky with a sort of mindlessness that only the kiss could’ve caused. I reply, scaldingly, “I’m going to fucking ruin you.” Still trying to warn her, of course, there was a mind and body separation. I was completely, utterly, under the seduction of Yujin, no matter how much I warned her. We both knew, that I wouldn’t hesitate to fuck her all over the dorm—not even for a millisecond. “Please, huff, that's all I’ve ever wanted, all I could think ever about… to be by your side through it all.” She pressed another kiss, a brief one, “The messy way you keep your desk, and how happy I am to organize it, how obliging I am. You’ve seduced me without knowing, before you ever even thought about me I’ve imagined millions of scenarios with you by my side.” Another kiss, a light peck, “Imagine the pride I felt when I found you left your suitcase by the chair in the library, to serve you measurably. It was just ordinary for you, but, but… it was the seventh heaven for me…”

Yujin was systematically removing every screw, with a perfectly fit screwdriver. Whether Yujin was conscious of it or not; she was kryptonite, the way her soft thighs brush against the sides of your abdomen, the soft feeling of her breasts, dipping onto my chest.

I needed to do more, with our mouths still connected, I sat up. Her ass was on my lap, the changing sensory world didn’t matter to her, all she wanted to do was oblige in the kisses. It didn’t even phase her once when I picked her up, standing, only, her legs locked herself in place to continue our mouth-to-mouth connection. I began my march to her bedroom, optimized to the utmost degree, every small peek I had of her bedroom perfectly aiding in this desperate situation—where I have to fuck Yujin for the remaining day, then the next, perhaps even forever; if only time would allow it so.

Her body clung to mine as I pressed her against the bed. This time, I had to pull off the heat of my loins unbearably tight, wanting—of new sensations. I could only imagine how ridiculous I looked, given how swollen Yujin’s lips were, I could only imagine how bad it must be—of course, the imagery was supplemented with Yujin's soft giggle, her eyes staring at my mouth.

I finally got to rid Yujin of her treacherous t-shirt—one that blocked the view of her perfect breasts, her perfect abdomen. Her lithe, firm body was running every gear in my head, on how to perfectly ravish—to perfectly mark with my actions. Yujin could only stare, wide-eyed, she doesn’t know what happens after, a little virgin, there needn't be a single statement clarifying this—I’ve already explored her enough to conclude so. I press into her, my mouth near her ears, “Don’t worry Yujin, you’ll just be under the greatest pleasure of your life, helplessly moaning—squealing on your professor’s face.” All she could reply with was a deep, sensual moan that would seem like someone pressed into her lungs, that’s how deep it was. Slowly, but surely, I shift down, letting my fingers grip onto her godly skin, leaving vertical white trails on her skin until her pelvis; when I hook her skirt, off.

I could immediately feel the goosebumps on her thighs, where the warmth, the security of the skirt—or the lack thereof—provided some protection of her core, her wet little core. I stare into her eyes again. My stature of a well-respected professional is gone—only an animalistic drive to nail the hottest woman in the world through the bed. The dynamic of professor and student, no matter how fucked up, no matter how morally corrupt—or nefarious; began to turn me on instead of inhibit, it seems so to for Yujin as well, the stain of her arousal clear.

Her arms seemed to retract to her chest, her forearms squeezed her breasts together; though, I’m sure that wasn’t intended, rather, it was likely to protect her little throbbing heart from the sensations, that heart she had on her sleeve. Despite my raging erection, my raging lust, I was inclined to treat her like porcelain, at least that part of me wasn’t totally exhausted. Except when Yujin said, “I’m not so fragile, daddy, break me.” Uncontrollably, greedily I pressed my mouth against her wetness, kissing around the soft skin. The wetness radiated, even under a layer of cloth, albeit a very flimsy, sexy, cloth.

Small whimpers rung out, vibrating the surface of her glossy skin around her heat after every small peck I placed on her inner thighs. Her legs were between my head, her thighs rested above my shoulder. As Yujin stared with a dogged innocence, a beautiful hesitance—-I hooked the side of her panty. I pulled—softly, making sure the wet cloth makes as much contact, frictional force with her pink core. The gift wrapping revealed something divine, the lightest pink you can imagine, glossy with something that only be arousal. Slowly, I dipped my tongue into her core—it was unimaginably comfortable, the way her pussy felt on my tongue, a sort of hot soft-serve that got molded by your tongue. But it didn’t taste like anything, that’s when a realization hit: she spent an inordinate amount of time preparing, making sure that every part of her was ripe for a nice fuck, and slowly guided me into her siren-like seduction. I patted the side of her ass, giving a grin—as nasty as I could make it, a sign of things I was about to do, a sort of payback for her masterful manipulation. She stared back, her open mouth, the visible teeth morphed into a half-smile, still focused on how pleasurable my tongue was on her pussy. Immediately, I placed my finger on her clit, pressing softly against it, then circling it before I dipped my tongue deeper into her unimaginably tight hole. Her breathing went faster, her lower-half rubbed softly—even resisting when the pleasure was far too much. Of course, that’s not what she signed up for—she signed up for a grueling fucking, a rough marking by her beloved professor.

10 seconds, only 10 seconds after the eye-contact, she came all over the bed. Her juices flowed freely, painting her inner thighs in some beautiful glossy coating. Her abdomen tensed in a rough hyperventilation, her cries grew higher and loud before she released into a deep moan. I tried to get as much of her juices on my fingers as possible, before letting her take it in the mouth—making her taste the fruits of her efforts, then spreading the saliva on my fingers over her chin.

“You taste amazing by the way.” I stated, waiting for some explanation.

“This is how I taste, always.” She panted, justifying it all.

“It wasn’t just a carefully constructed ruse to bed me?”

She scoffed, “What kind of evil bitch do you think I am? I’m beginning to worry about what type of woman you bedded before me to make you think pussy tastes bad.” Scoffing, her chest heaving, all glistened up.

“I’m a virgin too, I wouldn’t know.” I replied, jokingly.

This time, she whimpered, “That’s… Ugh” I felt a resistance, then a strong push, she was suddenly saddened at the prospect of being just another lady bedded, another number. While she focused on the sentiment, my eyes, my lustful gaze only landed on her body. Of course, there’s always an opportunity after every resistance—an opposing force against the applied force. Her head was positioned away, stubbornly opposing, but she left her bare neck—her smooth, thin neck—too openly.

Thus, my lips ended up on her smooth neck---squeezing out her pitiful moans. "Ungh~stop~! I'm still sensitive." She squeaked, her little throat muscles striated in trying to get her meek statement out. Fuel to the fire, it was only fuel to the fire, like a flame retardant---such as water---only strengthening the flame.

I marked her neck full of light bruises, ones that'll be dark tomorrow---dark in how badly I've wanted to possess her. Truly, I've gone insane. My mouth traced a path, from her soft, bruised neck down her bosom. Her nipples were framed with perky breasts, soft with a delicate femininity that she curated so diligently, so meticulously. Her little squeaks, pleads, exited her cute mouth faster, almost as much as when I ate her pussy. It was due to the multi-task that I engaged in, devouring her breast, whilst my hand massaged the other---less fortunate---breast.

Slowly, I released myself from her delicious breasts, still insatiable, pressed down on her breasts, my index fingers gliding, gripping against her nubs as if it were joysticks---literal joy sticks. Her breasts were painted in a beautiful pink hue, from how I used her, how I marked her---initially whitened from the pressure, then pink, then likely to be red for the rest of the day.

"Eunwoo..." she was splayed out on the bed, utterly satisfied---still with an enthusiastic gaze. "I want to suck your cock." She stated, matter of fact. "I want you to paint my mouth in your seed." she continued. "Let your seed fill my belly, the remains coating my chin..." her movements after each statement, in the silence, moved to push me on my back as she got up from her back. "Because, Professor, Eternal Love? Was that the title? And who was the love interest? If I didn't forget, it was... Khujin? As brilliant as you are, your naming conventions leaves a lot to be desired, I mean come on, it sounds oddly familiar." She completely pushed me over; I was slightly paralyzed with the discovery that she read what I was writing---it wasn't remotely family friendly, and perhaps, aimed towards her. Her eyes stared at me with knowing eyes, what exactly I desired from her at that moment; her lithe, perky body was positioned between my legs, kneeling, preparing to dip her mouth into eternal lust.

"From then on... Khujin took the face-fucking, dutifully, sexually, despite the size with which she was confronted with, took it. Her mouth ached, was pained, though, not in a conventional way; it ached in the desire to take him deeper." She just... requoted the entire sequence perfectly word-for-word from the paper.

Fuck!

There's nothing left to protect, nothing left to resist, we were unclothed, our secrets revealed, there was nothing left except our mutual wish to ravage each other until dawn. Our enlarged pupils---almost alien---met each other, glazed in some atypical determination. Finally, her head lowered and lowered before her tongue placed a meek lick on my cock. Then kisses, then a mix of licks while her hands clenched my wrists---signaling some sign that I shouldn't interfere, that I should enjoy this requited vindication.

Her mouth---even if virginal---provided some of the greatest relief. Her soft lips, erratic, still provided relief from my swollen tip. Her rookie mistakes, the slight graze of teeth, the meddling tongue only seemed to heighten the experience.

"You're a naughty fucking professor." She said, slightly biting down on the head, getting the intended reaction out of me---a great spasm. "Writing porn of a character that exactly resembles me. Mmmm naughty... so fucking naughty.."

"You're a horny, good-for-nothing student, Yujin."

We were fighting while she shallowly sucked in between her sentences, listening thoughtfully with a cock between her lips.

"I remember when you left that jacket at the library, I stole it. Then, I smelt it everyday, the cologne, the detergent, the natural smell. When you slept around I could smell it, the faint flowery smell alien to your scent."

She released her grip on my wrists, instead grabbing my dick, to better stimulate---to better punish. Her mouth hollowed out, the suction tremendously pleasing, the way she tongued at the underside of my shaft showing her real-time improvement. Then she popped my shaft out of her mouth again.

Somehow, she was angry again.

"Do you have nothing to say?" Yujin asked---irritatingly.

"I'm here now, Yujin."

"Idiot."

Her mouth went back, into the irresistible motions that she quickly figured out. Her head bobbed faster, I felt immensely relieved, yet I also felt an unbelievable greed, a sort of ripple between two identities in parallel, fighting for ultimate control.

I quickly and harshly gripped her hair, led her mouth down to the hilt---her low choke lubricated the hilt. Her fingers lightly tapped the sides of my thighs, with her perfect nails, the smooth skin, such a brave contrast to what was happening to her mouth. Her mouth suctioned again, not a word needed for preparedness, only the motions of our sexual organs were enough. Slowly, my grip on her hair went down to her scalp, a firmer place to grasp, to debase her identity further.

Her lips dragged long and hard, the suction felt stronger---the feeling of pulling out from her mouth harder than going in at this point. Her lips occasionally touched the base on my cock, only edging me closer. Until, I peaked, I growled as the first rope of cum landed deep into her throat. Even in this constricted, breathless stance where her dick was so deep in her throat that her throat reddened, her glazed puppy eyes stared back, almost a sign of some sort of sick victory over me. Then a second splash, the pressure so strong you'd think the flow was laminar---though I wouldn't know, her sexy throat hid it all. My head flew back, the relief of it all so strong, ropes turned into strings, strings turned into nothing---only the sensation of a suckling swallow could be felt on my sensitive tip.

There was no brief awkward silence, her mouth released in a godly erotic fashion. Her spittle still gathered on my cock, the spit strands coating her chin, her tongue clear and empty of the load I covered the insides of her mouth with.

She smiled so brightly - so happily. Her hands patted me on the thighs, trying to help me reconcile the fact that I throat-fucked a college freshman, the age gap already taboo, the fact that we were professor and student - only worsened it.

Her eyes were slightly red, the hint of tear trails on her face apparent. So badly did I want to hold her dear to my body, let the warmth of my chest keep her snug, let her rest. Yet, her reddened tits, her confused doe-like puppy eyes, her confused face, the slight glistening of her inner thighs goaded me endlessly. From that point on, I hadn't even realized I was hovering over her body. We were really gonna do it, I was gonna fuck her on her own bed, this beautiful, smart student.

"You really are an idiot" I say.

"Why? Because I like you? Because you're some respected higher up that I shouldn't entertain having a relationship with?"

It was that word: relationship. What are we gonna become-

"Eunwoo... master... professor... I don't just offer up my virginity to anyone... if you think I'm that easy to offer myself up to anyone - you're fucking crazy."

"You're a seduction master." I chuckle, letting her know the weakness of my self-control.

"If I'm a seduction master, then you're - I don't know - like Alain Delon." her hands hooked the nape of my neck, she was positioned so delicately, ready for whatever I wanted to do to her.

"I want this because I love you, Eunwoo."

"Who would've thought our little freshman is such a romantic, huh?" As I nuzzled my face into the side of her neck, give soft licks to her soft neck - her soft face a contrast to my stubbled jaw.

"Regardless of whether you insert your shaft inside me or not. I'll still follow you, to the ends of the earth, until you file a restraining order- Ah~!"

a single finger entered her, "Shh Yujin, An Yujin - all that pining to give up after a restraining order? I'll have to get you drunk on my dick, so that even the splitting of the earth won't deter you."

She squeaked, she definitely came, she definitely fucking came - hah. I let the finger exit slow, slowly trailing the wet finger up her abdomen - a sort of trail forming.

Finally, I palmed my dick, staring, realizing that I didn't have a condom. "Oh fuck - I don't have a condom" saying my thought out loud, she butts in, "Doesn't matter, please, anything - please." Her desperation clear in her tone - her fingers gripping dearly onto me.

"Who said anyone's leaving?" This time, her eyes were even wider. It was time, she knew it, I knew it, each step an acceleration to a barrier that we kept raising - was there even a barrier anymore? The depravity... the soulful acknowledgement of this cording relationship rose the hairs on my entire body; the blood in my chest frantically seemed to disperse, trying to control itself, to also control my entire body.

Though, if Yujin is under me, begging to be fucked - so hellbent, her glazed and aroused eyes pleading for some sinful contract. If only she knew - how much I'd do - there needn't be a single contract. I couldn't ever control myself anyway, what's there to deny?

Slowly - slowly - entered her, her sopping wetness gladly parted with some paradoxical resistance. The more I entered, the more her pussy resisted, the more her pussy pulled me in. The most sinful sounds, even more so than those of a minute ago, the squelch of a virgin hole being stretched - fuck, holy fuck.

"Ngghhh~ holy shit, please, more!" She desperately tried to close her mouth, aware of the lack of noise canceling. The way her mewls and moans exited between the tightest clasp of her mouth, the way her twinkled, the exasperation of a different type of pain stretching, beautifying her already goddess-like face. "I love it! Eunwoo~", that earned her a full stroke to the hilt. I grabbed the hand off her mouth - the way her face morphed into fear was beautiful, she was close to her neighbors - those neighbors who were about to hear Yujin's highest shrieks, highest orgasms. Another stroke, then another, I couldn't even describe how sinful her sounds were, shrieks, moans, deep to high - the sheer entropy of her mannerisms clearly showing her arousal. The next door neighbors would know, even the vertical neighbors would know. If they saw me entering her home, then I'm fucked - yet, I can't stop fucking her, the way her hips rotate and drift off my cock, the way her pussy lips wrap so tightly, so snug around my length.

I began pounding away, her thin waist acclimating to my tight grip, the way her breasts bounced when her ass slapped against my loins; who said missionary was boring? The way I kneeled, the way her body angled at a point - true rookie mistake - I kept pounding away at her g-spot. How many times she came - I wouldn't know - but the amount of liquid dispersed all over us, a mix of sweat and whatever else was definitely a clue. The way my length explored her insides so thoroughly, the way I'm pretty sure I bottomed her out, bound to bruise her cervix; the way her moans grew more unhinged, her eyes slowing going back inside her head, her arms almost unresponsive.

Until.

Until, Yujin grabbed onto me, it wasn't an ordinary grip, a nuanced grip that lovers of decades could understand - I'm sure there's some hidden meaning in that. The way her soft fingers grabbed my forearm while she laid down - panting with sweat, the glow of sex, possibly covered in her squirt. I made sure to stop at exactly when the base of my length met with her pussy - immersing myself in her beautiful warmth, sheathed in her velvety walls.

"Eunwoo - please slow down, I'm not going anywhere, by the next half-hour we'll be walking skeletons..."

This time, still plugged with my length I pulled her up, face-to-face where she sat on the slope of my kneel - adjusting myself accordingly to not destroy my knees.

"How could I Yujin? Light of my life, fire of my loin-"

She playfully slapped my shoulder

"Why are you referencing Lolita!?" in a giggling manner, understanding all at once.

"Careful where you slap your hands around, Yujin."

"Hm? What're you gonna do-mm!" A closed reaction to receiving a deep kiss. Slowly, my arms slithered around her back, to make sure that she doesn't fall - but, mostly to ensure that I could fuck her, utterly, fully under my control.

The way her eyes shined, with a deep desire - some atypical lust - yet still somehow looking so innocent, as if brilliant gems were in place of her pupils. Every time I get to stare at her, especially now that our eyes were separated by the width of a nose, I feel glad that someone - just someone like that exists, even better with the fact that we cohabit this area, and even better that our lips slip against each other. The act of exchanging saliva - a deeply disturbing thought - hadn't registered in us at all, only desire and love.

Slowly, her moans left her pretty mouth with emphasis - clearly enjoying the slower pace in which I gave these decrepit kisses to her cervix. Her velvety folds seemed to contract even more spastically - the movement easier, yet tighter, yet harder, parenthetically a paradox.

If only such paradoxes were this pleasurable.

"I'm gonna cum, Yujin." The sounds were absolutely vicious, viscous with the repeated slapping of our loins, the cold strands of her juices landing on my thighs whenever her pink core left the base of my length. "Eunwoo, give it to me, inside, everything." I tried to object; "Eunwoo, shhh, don't try to talk sense with me - it's too late for that, if you don't spill your biggest seed inside me, I'll chase you around the world."

"A restraining order?" I replied, curious for a response.

"And that'll stop me? After getting drunk on your dick, as you said? " She replied back, serious.

"You're right baby." I pumped into her deeper, slanting a little to get topological synchronicity: my chest fully in contact with her chest, the warmth compared to the biting cold of the environment only goading us on further. The way her soft, perky breasts pooled on my chest made my pumps only deeper - kisses more passionate.

"What if I do? What if I cum inside you?" Our eyes were level, engaging in a seriously serious topic. All care should've been granted to the topic - of course, we both knew the pending event.

"Then, presumably, understandably, I'll be by your side - with your favorite tea, massaging your soreness. And maybe, just maybe, nursing a little Eunwoo." Fuck! I hugged her tight - too tight. The small of her back caved in with my tight hug as I mashed my dick inside her swollen pussy. The way she moaned was less noticeable, she was so focused on receiving the load - breathing into the side of my neck, playing with my hair, exacting some stimuli to wring me out dry.

Her body perfectly molded into my force. Her ass molded against my tough thighs, her hard nipples poked my chest expectedly. When, just when, the hypothetical situation with Yujin - of a filial future - flashed in my mind, the first release of semen launched inside her. Ribbons of her deepest desire filled her - indulging her. We kissed - the natural course as expected when I released inside her.

Ropes of semen turned into strings, then finally - nothing. We embraced each other, I still hugged her just as tight, she hugged back with the delicacy of an angel.

"Yujin..."

"Holy shit." She replied.

Holy shit was right.

"-Like holy fucking shit." I emphatically replied.

Her gem-like pupils looked at me, her entire face turned into a smile.

"You'll have to call me wife from now on."

"Hm?" Fully not processing her request.

"Call me wife behind closed doors."

"Why?"

"Because.. why not?"

After a swift thought - one that didn't really have any substance at all - "Wife... wife... rolls off the tongue nicely."

She gave a peck on my lips, "make sure that it rolls off the tongue as easy as it does now... I'll want to hear it everyday."

"Wifey... who's cleaning the bed?" I jokingly inquired - of course, the truth was that the bed wouldn't dry in a day, and the way we are right now: the overflowing semen was still plugged inside her - with my cock.

Though, that would be a worry that could be taken care of later. Right now, the half-life of our post-sex fatigue finished - the other half to be finished when our lips met again.

Fin.

#yujin smut #yujin #kpop smut #male reader #female kpop idol #f!idol #m!reader #kpop #smut #fluff

505 notes · View notes

muniimyg · 27 days ago

Text

𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!yoongi (1) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist

note: omg !!! written for the 1st part cos i need to set the MOOD. hope u guys love it <3 i'm super hungover and this fic idea helped me recover buwhauhaa. pls give this new bbydady couple lots of love !

warnings: rawdogging, dirty talk, impregnation kink, daddy kink, creampie !

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo @ddanasjk @luvismenu @remgeolli @parapiop7 @lil0u0 @crazyovayou @mggv97 @thvgukk @rpwprpwprpwprw

the sound of laughter and chatter spills into the hallway as you and hyemi hurry toward yoongi’s condo. as you balance a large steaming dishes in your arms, the tantalizing aroma of the main course wafts behind you two.

“how much shit do you think they’re gonna give me for being 45 minutes late?” you ask, glancing sideways at hyemi.

she adjusts the way she holds the 2 bottles of wine to knock on the door. they clink together as she answers you;

“they can eat shit,” hyemi laughs. “you know everyone starved themselves today for your food, right?”

just then, jin answers the door.

he greets you both, taking the meals from your arms. as you step inside, you hear everyones laughter and conversations clearer. nam joon’s earnest chatter with yoongi and hobi, jin calling taehyung to help him in the kitchen, and jungkook annoying jimin.

yoongi’s condo is filled with balloons and decorations celebrating their clinic’s launch, and the scent of various appetizers danced in the air. everyone is sprawled around the spacious living room, drinks in hand and smiles on their faces. everyone is in their own clothes and it feels strange to see them without their scrubs… not to mention; all together.

it feels surreal to think they’re all celebrating the launch of their private clinic.

the dream they had worked so hard to achieve.

the dream they deserve to have become a reality.

“finally!” nam joon cries out. he makes his way to you two, greets you, and then pulls hyemi into a hug. they exchange a quick kiss before wrapping her in his arms and turning to you. “thought you were gonna bail on us.”

you roll your eyes at him.

“how is it that you’re a doctor but always make it out like i’m busier than you?”

nam joon shrugs. “you’re a chef. that shits just as hard.”

“it’s not medical school,” you argue. “but i appreciate the recognition of my career choice… are you sucking up to me because you're hungry?”

nam joon puts his hands up.

“you can’t be the chef of our friendgroup and expect us not take advantage of it.”

you share a look with hyemi.

“joon, i’m expecting full free health care from you as payment for all the times i’ve fed you. from all the times i’ve fed all of you—”

jimin and jungkook raise their beer cans at you.

“yah! you’re the reason my body gets enough protein—”

as the group gathers around yoongi’s dining table, the atmosphere buzzes with excitement and camaraderie.

you’re in the kitchen, finishing the last touches on the meal you’ve prepared. you spent the entire day crafting this feast, and satisfaction blooms in your chest, especially with your final dish—a beautifully plated coq au vin, featuring tender chicken simmered in rich red wine, mushrooms, and pearl onions, all nestled together like a cozy family.

“dinner is served!” you announce.

as you approach the table, you scan for a seat or space for yourself. just as your gaze flits around, yoongi catches on and instantly stands up, his demeanor relaxed yet attentive. he gestures for you to take his seat.

“sit here. i’ll grab a chair from the living room,” he says, his voice calm and sure.

“it’s okay. i can—o-oh. wait—” you start, but before you can finish, yoongi is already striding toward the living room, his movements effortless. he returns, chair in hand, setting it down beside your spot and patting the seat next to him with a casual invitation.

your eyes meet for a moment, and the world around you fades as you hold his gaze, warmth blooming in your chest.

you smile and sit beside him.

“everything looks amazing, by the way,” yoongi leans in to whisper into your ear. “thank you for cooking for us tonight.”

he places his hand a little above your knee, a light touch that sends a thrill through you.

your heart skips for a moment, and just before it can race, he pulls his hand away.

“alright, everyone! before we dive in, let’s raise our glasses…” nam joon declares, lifting his glass of wine high. “here’s to our hard work and dedication. i can’t imagine being in this field of work without you guys… we did it! we have our own private practice. cheers!”

“cheers!” everyone echoes, their glasses clinking together.

as the group begins to serve themselves, you watch them dig into the coq au vin, anticipation swirling in your stomach. carefully, you observe their expressions transform after the first bite. jin and hobi’s eyes widen in delight, jungkook scrunches his face in exaggerated anger, while jimin and taehyung slump back in their chairs, clearly taken aback. hyemi and nam joon share a knowing look, and yoongi tilts his head, a small smile gracing his lips.

“holy shit, ___."

“you’ve outdone yourself.”

“i’m so glad i was skinny today… i have extra room in my pants to eat everything here,” jungkook moans. “fuck, ___. let me know when you wanna get married.”

everyone chokes on their food. from the corner of your eye, you watch for yoongi's reaction. he doesn't make a face or say anything. instead, he continues to eat and ignore jungkook's childish comment.

then, as you look away, you catch the way his grip tightens around his fork and knife.

puffing your cheeks, you turn your attention back to the group.

"marriage? you know i want a baby,” you huff, half-joking but with a hint of truth. "fuck, i want a baby so bad."

hyemi rolls her eyes. “we’ve been known.”

the baby fever you have is no secret to your friend group; it’s been a running joke since the beginning of time. with every glimpse of a baby in a stroller or at the mall, to the endless stream of baby videos shared in the group chat—everyone knows. the irony is that you’re simply too busy to have one. work takes most of your time, and you’re barely into dating, yet the baby fever lingers, woven into your very being. like how some people are just meant to be moms? that’s you.

everyone bursts into laughter, their playful jabs surrounding you like a warm blanket. everyone except for yoongi. he stays quiet, stealing a glance your way, a slight crease in his brow as he observes.

as you begin to eat, yoongi bumps shoulders with you, the casual touch sending a small jolt through your side.

“___,” he starts, his voice low and teasing. “i might have to request a cooking lesson. your food is too good.”

you bump shoulders back, a smirk playing on your lips. “don’t you cook?”

“not like this. not like you.”

you scoff lightly, shaking your head. “sure, i’ll accept your cooking lesson request… but only if you pay for the ingredients.”

he leans back in his chair, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes.

then, he places his hand on your upper thigh again. this time, he squeezes it.

your heart begins to race.

yoongi’s soft gaze shifts toward you, the confident glint in his eyes paired with a playful smile.

“sure, ___. whatever you want.”

once dinner is finished and the dishes are cleared, everyone gathers around the living room. hobi puts on a movie, but the flickering screen fades into the background as everyone spreads out. jungkook is lounging on the couch, flanked by jimin and taehyung, who are playfully bickering. on the opposite end, nam joon and hyemi are cuddled together. meanwhile, hobi, jin, you, and yoongi are settled on the floor, engaged in a mindless card game. there's an easy banter flowing between you all.

“honestly, i don’t think i’ve fully processed it yet,” jungkook admits, scratching his head with a sheepish grin. “guys… we have our own fucking practice. we’re so adult.”

taehyung’s eyes sparkle with mischief as he leans back against the couch. “well, since we’re all adults now, let’s celebrate like we did back then—with something childish.”

jimin’s eyes light up at the suggestion.

“oh, i know exactly where this is going.”

yoongi rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance, but a small smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. he puts his cards down and turns to taehyung and jimin.

“you guys can’t seriously be suggesting truth or dare.”

suddenly, everyone sits up.

“why not?” hyemi teases, nudging namjoon. he sits up, suddenly interested. “awh, we used to play that all the time! let’s use a wine bottle for the questions and shots for the skipping.”

“yes, let’s do it!” taehyung chimes in, bouncing slightly in excitement. “might as well go all in.”

as the group settles into the idea, everyone sprawls on the living room floor, cushions scattered around them.

the movie playing in the background has been completely forgotten. you head to the kitchen to grab a wine bottle, along with a few shot glasses, and return to find your friends buzzing with anticipation.

with a grin, you place the bottle in the center of the circle, pouring shots for everyone as you settle next to jungkook and hyemi.

“whose going first?”

“i will,” nam joon says, and with a determined flick of his wrist, he spins the bottle. it lands on jungkook. with a playful grin, nam joon asks, “jungkook, truth or dare?”

“dare,” jungkook replies confidently, puffing out his chest.

“i dare you to text an ex and say you miss them.”

jungkook’s confidence wavers for a brief moment. his bravado fades. “t-truth! i pick truth—”

“boo!” everyone hollers, giving him a few playful hits.

defeated but laughing, he pulls out his phone and reluctantly types the message. as the sound of the text being sent echoes through the room, cheers erupt from his friends.

“who’d you text?” jimin asks, curiosity bubbling over.

“your mom,” jungkook quips with a smirk.

jin snorts before breaking into laughter. jungkook raises his hands in surrender. “you guys said you wanna be childish? fine by me!”

the game continues, laughter and playful banter filling the air. after a few more rounds, jimin finally gets a chance to spin the bottle, his excitement palpable.

it lands on yoongi.

jimin grins, the tension in the room shifting into something playful. “alright, yoongi, you’re up. truth or dare?”

“truth,” yoongi replies, his expression cool but his eyes glinting with intrigue.

“okay,” jimin says, his voice laced with mischief as he shoots a devilish glance around the room. “if you could sleep with anyone in the world with no consequences, who would it be?”

laughter erupts, mingling with the muffled sounds of the movie. yoongi holds jimin’s gaze for a moment, and you notice his eyes flicker to you, almost imperceptibly.

the moment is fleets but it's lingers in your heart the moment he looks away.

without a word, yoongi lifts his glass and takes a shot instead, opting for silence.

“shit…” taehyung gasps, breaking the tension. “is it me?”

as the laughter continues, you look forward and meet yoongi's eyes. he clears his throat and turns away. for a moment, you think;

shit.

it's me.

the night goes on with more playful dares and laughs, but as it winds down, everyone soon heads out the door. hyemi and nam joon hug you goodbye as you gather your cooking equipment. once they leave, yoongi walks into the kitchen, surprised to see you still there.

you two are alone.

when you two are alone… things change. you aren’t sure how to describe the feeling or the exact shift in atmosphere… but it’s there. it happens and there’s always this lingering silence that suffocates you. it’s not uncomfortable, it’s rather… daring.

though it’s unspoken, you two find difficulty in ignoring the loud bells.

maybe it was the way yoongi’s gaze lingers on you when you aren’t looking. how he traces the curve of your smile and the way you tuck your hair behind your ear. or how your eyes light up an entire city when someone compliments your food.

truth be told, yoongi's crush on you is like a steady and familiar presence. something he could never quite shake.

not when you two first met.

not when you dated 3 guys in a row and got fucked over each time.

not when you go through baby fever so bad you cry about it like it’ll never happen to you.

yoongi notices things about you that others don’t. like the way you chew your lip when you’re in deep thought or before you admit to something. how you have a specific laugh for different levels of things you find funny.

whatever it is; it just remains as it is.

over the years of being friends with you, there were obvious times he thought about closing that space between you two… but something kept him from doing it. maybe it’s the group dynamic, or simply the fear that you didn’t feel the same.

“sorry, you must be tired. i’ll be out of here in a bit—”

“you’re still here?” yoongi teases.

you roll your eyes at him.

“unfortunately.”

“no, no,” yoongi insists. “take your time. did you drive? or are hyemi and joon waiting for you downstairs?”

“i drove and picked up hyemi. she’s sleeping at joon’s tonight so they left.”

yoongi shifts closer to you, beginning to help you pack up. he looks through his cupboard and finds a bag for you to put all your containers in. when you finish packing up, he takes the bag and walks you to the door.

“so… no answer to that truth question, huh?" you tease, raising an eyebrow. "didn't take you for a pussy."

yoongi chuckles softly, looking down briefly before meeting your eyes. “wouldn’t have been much of a game if i gave it away that easily."

“but that’s the literal point of playing truth or dare and choosing truth.”

he scoffs, “for a chef, you’re a big know-it-all… you know that?”

"come on, yoongi," you inch closer to him. “was it really taehyung?”

he pauses, unamused.

"you really want to know?"

you nod, curious but also feeling your heart pick up just a little. your cheeks might flush in a few seconds too.

yoongi leans in slightly.

"fine. it was you."

your eyes widen, unsure how to react to his confession. it surprises you but it’s also such a weird feeling to get this confirmation… you feel warm inside.

you feel butterflies.

attempting to keep your voice steady, you ask; "me?"

yoongi shrugs, keeping it casual though his steady and sincere gaze. "guess you just… crossed my mind. more than once. i don’t know. sorry if this makes you think of me differently—”

a beat.

“no,” you blink. “i… if jimin had asked me the question i would’ve answered the same.”

yoongi tilts his head.

“answered it like what?”

you chew your bottom lip.

just as you gather the courage to make your confession, yoongi drops your things, steps towards you and places his arm around your waist. he doesn’t waste a second.

he pulls you in—

yoongi kisses you for the first time.

“holy fucking shit—” yoongi hisses in between your legs. “you taste so good, ___.”

you lift your head and watch him.

yoongi’s head bobs up and down. you fight the urge to squeeze your legs together as you feel the texture of his tongue brush the insides of your fold. you feel him spit on your clit and suck on it. when he does this, it gives you no choice but to grab a handful of his hair.

you moan.

yoongi smirks, loving the way you’re reacting. you feed his ego more than he ever anticipated you to. it’s so special to him.

as yoongi finishes eating you out, he shifts his body on top. softly, he runs the back of his hand from your waist to your ankles. he takes one of them and puts it over his shoulder. you shuffle, getting more comfortable in his bed.

“you’re really pretty,” he blurts. “i.. uh, i really like you in this position.”

you blush, tightening your lips.

“t-thanks,” you say a little awkwardly. there’s a silence between you two as the literal position begins to sink in your head. “are we g-going to…”

yoongi’s soft gaze cuts short. “oh. shit, yeah. sorry, you… you just distracted me.”

you can’t help but laugh.

“you’re about to fuck me and you’re saying my face is distracting you?”

he shrugs.

“you have nice tits too.”

he grabs them without warning. squeezing them, you laugh a little louder. then, he slaps them and a small gasp escapes your lips.

“shit. let me get a condom—”

you shift and shake your head at him. you bite your bottom lip, you offer him a sincere look.

“i… i don’t sleep with people that often. i know you’re a doctor and all but i—”

yoongi chuckles.

“fuck, do you have an impregnation kink?” he pieces it all together. “i mean, no shit… and i’m okay with fucking you raw. i haven’t slept with anyone in like, 2 years—”

“what?” you ask in disbelief.

yoongi is hot. he's a fucking dermatology nurse practitioner too... he can cook and is gentle... not to mention, his dick is huge.

“too busy. too tired. too lazy.”

you snicker at him. “really? you aren’t too tired right now.”

yoongi smiles cheekily before leaning in and kiss you. he kisses you deep, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. you suck it as he pulls away.

he rests his forehead against yours and hums, “can we have sex now?”

you laugh and hit his bare shoulders.

he places himself back into his desired position and slides his cock in between your folds. he sinks it in a little, sending shivers down your spine. you feel how hard it is—how veiny and thick it feels against your skin. yoongi then sharply inhales as the sound of his dick slapping against your wet pussy echoes.

“f-fuck.”

you let out a whimper and clenched your fist. “put it in. need you.”

your words are music to yoongi’s ears.

he sinks himself inside you. your lips part as you adjust to the feeling of his dick entering inside. it’s big and girthy. the curves it has hits spots you didn’t know could hit.

“oh m-my god,” you breathe. “y-yoongi… think y-you’re too big.”

“am i supposed to feel sorry for you?” he snarks. “come on, ___. you can take it.”

you nod, gulping with determination. you shut your eyes, feeling him thrust in and out of you. he does so slowly but surely, making sure to push in every inch of his length. you wince a couple of times, feeling the burn.

then, after a few more strokes… you feel it.

the pleasure.

yoongi picks up the pace once he sees your begin to enjoy the feeling. he smirks, leaning down for another kiss. you kiss him back, passionately. when he pulls away, he cups your face with his hand and places his thumb in your mouth.

you suck it.

yoongi watches.

he watches as you play with his thumb. licking it, sucking it, and swirling your tongue around it. he watches as your tits move to his thrusts. he watches as your eyes roll back.

he loves it.

the sight is beyond beautiful.

it’s life changing to him.

then, he shifts. he takes your leg down and fully sets himself on top of you. he fucks you faster, burying his face in the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms and legs around him as he digs himself deeper and deeper. he moans in your ear and it feels like with all the lewd sounds in your room—your pussy might explode.

yoongi feels you tighten.

his dick gets harder.

“s-shit, ___… you’re so tight. you feel so good.”

his voice is low and drips with sin.

just when he feels himself about to cum, he pulls out.

you reposition yourself.

this time, you spread your legs out like a v. yoongi plants his hands on either side of you. you reach over and put his dick inside. he bows his head low, biting your shoulder as he begins to fuck you.

yoongi pounds you.

like, to the point where you’re practically screaming.

“o-oh! oh my god, y-yoongi. d-don’t stop. f-fuck, yes. yes, yes yes!” you chant. "fuck! ngghhh, i love your dick. mpffhh—oh god, oh god!"

again, it’s music to his ears.

“i’m gonna cum—”

you reach down and pull his dick out.

“w-what—”

you tug yoongi’s body down and roll over until you stradle him on top. as you sit on him, you quickly put his dick inside you. by now, yoongi’s climax has calmed.

“can you cum inside me?” you ask, lacing your fingers together.

you begin to grind on him. yoongi’s eyes flutter to watch the way your hips move against his stomach. he watches as you fuck yourself on him.

“please, yoongi? i want a baby. remember?”

yoongi nods. “i remember. fuck, you want my cum?”

batting your eyelashes at him, you pout. “mhm.. will you give me a baby? i want your cum. don’t you think i deserve it? see how good i’m fucking myself on you right now?”

“yes.”

“tell me i’m doing a good job, daddy.”

yoongi hisses.

he doesn’t really give a fuck about the whole daddy kink thing… or the impregnation bullshit. people are into what they’re into. but for some reason… this drives him crazy. the way your tone is so soft and desperate, he thinks to himsef;

fuck.

i have to give it you.

you’re too pretty to say no to.

“you’re doing so good, ___. fuck, i love how you fuck me.”

you place your hands on his chest and lean forward for stability. you bounce on his hard cock, making sure the sound of your ass hitting his abdomen is as loud as it can be.

“do you like it when i fuck you like this?” you say, slightly panting. “you like it when i’m about to milk your cock? gonna make you cum. need it.”

“mhm?” yoongi moans. “f-fuck, yeah. you need my cum? you need a baby so bad? you want my babies?”

you nod viciously.

“yes, daddy. need every drop, yoongi. i'm gonna be mad at you if you let it spill out. need your babies.”

with that, yoongi reaches over and grabs a handful of your ass. he helps you fuck him faster and faster. by now, you’re out of breath and yoongi can barely keep his eyes open. the pleasure is so vibrant. it’s sharp and so ready to be released.

“f-fuck, ___. i’m actually gonna cum now. gonna pull out—”

you pout.

“b-but i was serious,” you confess. “you can pull out… but just know; i don’t want you to.”

there’s a look in your eyes that tugs yoongi’s heart strings. he isn’t sure how to go about this. he’s never cum inside someone before… but this was you.

you’re so special to him.

and you want it so bad…

yoongi never thought he’d be this way. laying here with you on top of him, begging for his cum. without even trying, it’s like you make him question every decision and wall he puts up. it’s stupid, really—he knows he’s in control of his decisions here. no one is forcing anyone to do anything and you aren’t convincing him in a way where he’s uncomfortable.

but it’s different.

with you, it’s fucking different.

you caught him off guard and the way you ask him for this makes everything feel so simple.

perhaps its the way you offer him a gentle smile or the way he’s always known you’ve wanted a baby… and the opportunity to give that to you? even if it’s not for real and this is just an in-the-moment kind of thing… fuck, how could he deny you this? he can’t ignore it.

maybe he doesn’t want to.

his thoughts take him away for a second too long. your smile turns into a nod. just as you’re about to get off him, he grabs your waist and helps you fuck him fast.

chasing the high, he groans as he reaches his climax.

he tugs your body as close to him as possible.

yoongi might have lost his mind because—

he folds.

yoongi cums inside you.

he cums so much that his creampie spills out. you giggle as you get off and lay down next to him. yoongi gets on his elbows and spreads your legs open. with soft touches, he takes his fingers and helps shove the spilling cum inside your pussy.

you play with his hair as he does this.

then, when he’s finished he moves back to lay beside you.

a thick silence fills the space between you two.

“i.. w-wow,” he stutters. “are you okay?”

you gulp.

“yeah… thank you for… u-uh… i don’t know if that was awkward for you but it really… i really… i liked it a lot. thank you.”

yoongi chuckles.

he shifts and fixes his sheets for you. he drapes his blanket over your body and adjusts the way you lay on his pillow. leaning in beside you, he kisses the top of your head and caresses your cheek.

“i liked it too. besides,” he says softly. “what are friends for?”

#bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi scenario #yoongi crush #yoongi dilf #yoongi x yn #bts yoongi smut #bts fanfic #bts f2l #yoongi f2l #yoongi fanfic #bts imagine #bts friends to lovers #bts daddy au #bts dilf au

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draconic-desire · 8 months ago

Text

🔹 Oculus Infinitum 🔹

Yandere Satoru Gojo x Reader

He’s infinity; in comparison, you’re nothing. So of course using your cursed technique on him backfires.

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI! Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment, nsfw, non-con/dub-con, afab!reader, slight mindbreak

Infinity is often interpreted as the largest numerical magnitude to exist. And while that fact may be true in theory, infinity is better defined as the endless division of infinitesimally smaller and smaller values. One can be separated into half, half to a quarter, and so on, until the space between fractions almost ceases to exist.

Almost.

Gojo is a lot like infinity. Blame it on his technique, sure, but you suspect it runs much deeper than that. His actions never reach an end; instead, each one sinks further and further into your skin, fangs so small you barely feel them until it’s too late and the venom irreversibly invades your veins. He’s chipped away at you, piece by little piece, until you are the opposite of infinity; you are nothing.

On a surface level, most would say you have it pretty good. You (are trapped in) live in a huge home, filled with opulent furniture and all the luxuries you could ever want. You’re (expected to) allowed to cook meals for the two of you, including your favorite dishes. You still have (basic rights) privileges, such as free roam of the house, your own selection of clothes, access to the television and your phone (minus the ability to call or text, of course), even outdoor time with Satoru’s supervision. Why would you ever need to leave?

You had escaped, once.

Calling it an escape would be generous. Nothing ever happens without Gojo’s knowledge, without Gojo’s permission. How foolish you had been, to think you could evade his Six Eyes. Despite weeks of planning, he’d dragged you back home within the hour.

The chains hadn’t been removed for an entire month after that, and their lingering presence on each post of Satoru’s bed serves as a constant reminder that they’ll never rust.

Currently, you’re in the (not your, nothing is ever truly yours anymore) house’s lofty kitchen now, preparing dinner for his return home from work. Glancing up at the clock, you see it’s nearly time for him to arrive. You click the stovetop on and place a pot of water over the open flame, watching the blue fire flicker. Your thoughts immediately go to Gojo’s eyes, twin infernos of endless blue. Those eyes never seem to close, never seem to be too far from your own. They have the ability to lock you in place and throw away the key forever.

Moments later, the sound of the door opening and closing, along with the click of multiple locks, echoes from the hallway. Long, casual footsteps alert you to his presence behind you. His velvet voice, so languid and carefree, fans your ear as he settles his hands on your hips. “There’s my girl. Already making dinner for me?” He places a surprisingly chaste kiss to the top of your head. “Missed ya, baby.”

You add rice and a bit of salt and stir the pot in front of you in silence. When did you stop fighting him on that? On losing your full name to simple titles like girl and baby? The old you would have gagged at those pet names. The old you that kicked and bit the hand of your captor like a rabid animal, always fighting for freedom.

His grip tightens when you fail to immediately respond, though you hear him force a light tone to his voice. “What, curse got your tongue?”

Tension immediately floods your muscles. Gojo is a vain man; your silence maims his huge ego, something the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer will not stand for. You must react. “No, Gojo. I was just lost in thought, is all.”

You worry your lip when the quiet drags on. “I-I’m sorry?”

Gojo barks out a laugh, but his smile is strained and all fangs. “Back to Gojo again, huh?”

A mistake you notice too late. The spoon falls from your grip as you turn your head slowly. He’s still wearing his blindfold, but you know those infinite abyssal eyes are currently boring into your soul, daring you to speak. “Ah, no! Satoru, I mean—”

“Shh, baby. I get it.” His hands move to your shoulders, which he begins to massage. “Is it because you’re mad at me for neglecting you?”

To an outsider it may sound like he’s teasing, but you know all too well the creep of annoyance laced into his deepened, husky tone. “Or are you just being a brat?”

Swallowing, you place a hand on his toned forearm in an attempt to calm him. You feel him practically melt into the touch. “Truly, ‘Toru, I’m fine.” Your honeyed tone makes you sick, but you’ve learned it can subtly manipulate your captor in the right setting, usually this domestic fantasy world of his. “You’ve been so busy with work, and my mind has just been wandering. Why don’t you go sit while I finish up with the food?”

He hums absentmindedly, fingers swirling patterns across your abdomen. “I have a better idea…” Hot breath caresses your ear, eliciting a shiver. “Let me make it up to you.”

A deft hand snakes its way down the back of your bare thigh, barely ghosting across your skin. You can feel him, solid as a rock, yet you know there will always be space between you. He can touch you, but you’re powerless to do the same.

Just like in everything else, you can’t hold a candle to him. Your cursed energy is inconsequential, a tiny spark against his infinitive well of power.

Talk of your innate cursed ability is a topic you actively choose to avoid. Your technique, when activated, allows you to briefly control the thoughts and consequent actions of a single individual—but only after you’ve kissed them. And it often backfires tremendously, with the kiss causing overwhelming feelings of obsession or insanity in the receiver. From more than enough uses you’ve learned to see it as more of a curse in and of itself, and one you prefer to keep hidden.

Especially from the man behind you. Gojo—Satoru, you correct yourself—has enough twisted love that you wouldn’t dare try to possess his thoughts. The mere idea makes your throat tighten with panic.

Satoru’s technique, on the other hand, causes every nerve ending along your skin to explode as his hand falls beneath your skirt and skate across your barely clothed core.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he groans. “Are you wet for me, baby?” Before you can respond, Satoru easily moves your panties aside and spears you with his middle and ring fingers.

The invasion makes you jolt instantly. An involuntary gasp leaves you as he presses deeper, his fingers sheathed to the knuckle. You hate how your walls immediately tighten around him, slick with your arousal. No, you don’t want this, but Gojo gives you no choice in the matter but to practically ride his hand as he lifts your skirt with his other hand to get a better view.

“I’ll never get tired of this.” His thumb passes over your clit, pulling yet another shameful moan from your lips. Your tense demeanor only causes your pussy to accidentally squeeze him tighter, spurring him on. You try to pull your thighs together, but Satoru wrenches them apart easily with his other hand. “Oh, no, none of that. This pussy is mine.”

You squirm, grasping for something to get you out of this mess. “Satoru, stop, the food will burn—”

“Forget it,” he commands, ripping your skirt off. “We’ll order takeout after.”

Your heart drops. “After…?”

“Aw, you thought I’d stop here?” His condescension floods your ears. “No, babe, I’m only just getting started with you.”

His persistence, like infinity, has no end.

Without warning, Satoru removes his fingers from your core and swings you over his shoulder, smacking your bare ass and wrenching a yelp from you. You blanch when you realize he’s carrying you to the bedroom.

“Wait, Satoru—!”

You are unceremoniously thrown onto the bed, said white-haired sorcerer towering above you. He pounces immediately, locking your limbs in place. Satoru must see the fear, the readiness to engage in fight or flight, across your face, because he brushes a tender hand across your cheek to wipe away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” he teases, but it somehow sounds like a threat. His fingers, still coated with your arousal, hook around your thong and slide it down your legs. “You’re acting like this is our first time or somethin'.”

Oh, it was far from the first time that he had touched you or been inside of you. But something about today, about this time, sends fear skittering across your whole being. Perhaps it’s all the reminiscence lately, or the fact that your thoughts drifted to your innate technique for the first time in weeks. Panic sinks its claws into you.

Breath ragged, heart pounding, you grab his face in both hands and react without thinking; for the first time since he kidnapped you, you willingly kiss Satoru Gojo and activate your technique.

Satoru immediately reacts, deepening the kiss and pressing you more firmly into the mattress until you feel as if you’re nearly suffocating.

Release me, you project into his mind, threading a hand through his white locks and squeezing hard.

The world suddenly goes very, very still.

Satoru freezes. Slowly, painfully, he parts his lips from your own and straightens his arms against the mattress to hover above you once more. His breath comes out in jagged huffs. The only sound that remains is the unending tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall, bringing you closer to your doom.

For a second, you almost believe your technique worked.

That is, until he quickly sheds his blindfold, and you are meet with those stunning, terrifying, brilliant, paralyzing blues. He whispers your name with a foreign stillness that chills your bones to ice. “Do you…have a cursed technique?”

What an idiot you are to have thought you could sneak past Satoru Gojo’s barriers and Six Eyes. You can’t touch his physical form; why would his mind be any different?

It takes all of your willpower to withhold the panicked, hysterical laugh threatening to escape you. “Look, I can explain—”

Satoru leans back on his knees, one hand carding through his hair as he looks up to the ceiling. “God, babe, I knew you could see curses and harbored cursed energy, but here you go surprising me!” He laughs, a gleeful chuckle that has you reeling.

“You’re not…mad?” you dare to ask, inching your knees towards your chest. Maybe your technique failed, but you can still buy some time and get into a safer position.

Satoru gazes down at you, head tilted and a full grin on his lips. “Mad? Baby, why would I be upset when for the first time in our relationship, you were the one seducing me?”

Oh, no. No no no no no.

Grabbing your ankle, he drags you back to a supine position, your pussy on full display for him. He licks his lips at the sight. “Plus, you trying to get inside my head was cute and all. Weak, but you gave it your best!” He laughs again, and you realize that he never took you seriously, not even for a second.

The thought should enrage you—it would have infuriated the old you—but all you can manage now is a low whine as his hands go for his belt.

Satoru pulls himself free, his already hard cock pulsing in anticipation. Precum beads at the tip as he lines himself up with your entrance. “What was it you asked me for? Release, right?”

Your eyes bulge at his implication. “Wait, Satoru, I didn’t mean—!”

You barely have time to react as he buries himself in you completely. A choked sob bubbles up your throat as you breath through the stretch of him.

Satoru moans in ecstasy as he begins a steady pace, thrusting mercilessly into that squishy spot deep inside your core that has you seeing stars.

“Kiss me again.” It’s light and breathless, but it’s an order, not a request. Fear makes you comply immediately, though your kiss is a hesitant, timid thing compared to your earlier attempt to sway him.

He’s having none of that. No, Satoru had a taste of your affection, and now he’ll tolerate nothing less than your full reciprocation. If only you could truly peer into his mind and see that no amount of your cursed energy would change him; your being was already permanently imprinted on his brain. You were his perfect doll, held in the palm of his hand.

Nails rake down his back as you arch against the mattress. Every time he thrusts, he grinds against your clit, and you feel yourself chasing your finish. You hate this, you want it to stop, but you can’t help—

“Please, Satoru,” you plead without thinking, meeting his limitless eyes. You feel yourself drowning in them, a blue sky that never ceases.

For a split second, his rhythm hesitates. “…Say that again,” he whispers, almost reverently. “Beg for me.”

You’re not quite sure what you’re asking for. “P-please, I can’t take it anymore, please let me—!”

“Choose your next word carefully,” he warns, voice shifting to a low growl as his hand moves to your throat, adding ever so much pressure.

Tears streak your vision. The embarrassment of your technique failing and the lewd position he has you in all crash down upon you, and another piece of you breaks. “Please let me cum,” you concede.

To your dismay, his pace slows, and you cry out in protest as your orgasm fades. “I just need you to do one more thing for me, baby.” He leans into your neck, nipping and sucking at all your sensitive spots, torturing you even further. “Tell me you love me.”

Alarms should be blazing through your head, but the fog of your arousal clouds your judgement as you seek your climax.

That piece of your soul he took shatters into a million shards as you whisper, “I love you, Satoru.”

The two of you shatter simultaneously. You register all too late the warmth invading your core as Satoru pumps his cum deep inside you.

He’s never come in you before.

Your name is murmured over and over like a prayer against your neck—or maybe it’s a curse. You jolt in overstimulation when he pulls out and bends down to place a kiss against your puffy folds. “So good for me, baby. This perfect pussy belongs to me.”

He kisses you a final time, long and slow. When he pulls away, a languid smile sweeps across his features. “You’re all mine, (Y/n). Even your mind.”

With the use of your innate technique, you’ve dug your own grave for good. Satoru will never let you go now.

After all, infinity is indivisible.

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anniebeemine · 3 months ago

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I <3 my boyfriend- s.r. x fem!reader

Warnings: possessiveness, fingering, unprotected sex on the kitchen counter (not mindful, not demure)

Spencer walked through the front door, exhausted from the long case, but the familiar warmth of home immediately began to ease the tension in his shoulders. He could hear you in the kitchen, the soft clatter of dishes and the comforting aroma of a homemade meal greeting him as he dropped his bag by the door.

"Hey," you called out, a smile in your voice as you turned to see him. "You're just in time. Sit down, I'll get you a plate."

He walked into the kitchen, his tired eyes lighting up as they met yours. You looked so content, so effortlessly beautiful in the soft light of the kitchen. He started to protest as he made his way to the table. "I can do it myself, you know. You don’t have to—"

But you were already at his side, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “It’s fine,” you said softly, your fingers lingering for a moment longer. “Let me take care of you.”

He didn’t argue further, letting out a quiet sigh of gratitude as he sat down at the table. You served him a plate of his favorite meal, and the sight alone made his stomach rumble. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until just now.

Spencer picked up his fork and took his first bite, savoring the taste of home-cooked food. He started to say something, but the words caught in his throat as he looked up, his eyes widening.

You had turned around to grab something from the counter, and that’s when he noticed. The shorts you were wearing, snug and perfectly fitted, had bold, playful letters across the back: I ❤️ my boyfriend. The fabric clung to your hips and hugged every curve with precision, leaving very little to the imagination. Spencer felt his face flush, his mouth suddenly dry.

He swallowed hard, almost choking on his food as he struggled to regain his composure. His eyes were glued to you, watching the way the shorts moved with you as you reached for a dish, then turned back around to face him. You were completely unaware of the effect you were having on him, which somehow made it even more alluring.

You noticed the way he was staring, a curious look crossing your face. “Are you okay?” you asked, concerned by the way he seemed to be struggling with his food.

Spencer cleared his throat, setting down his fork as he tried to find his voice. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Just—uh—got distracted for a second.”

You caught his gaze lingering on your shorts, and a playful idea bloomed in your mind. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you began to babble about your week, your tone light and innocent, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“So, you won’t believe what happened at work yesterday,” you started, turning your back to him as you reached for a glass on the counter. You shifted your hips slightly, knowing full well that his eyes were glued to the words on your shorts. “We had that huge project due, and of course, everything that could go wrong- well, thanks to yours truly, it did go wrong.”

Spencer nodded absentmindedly, his fork hovering over his plate, but he barely picked at his food. His appetite seemed to vanish as he focused on you, every move you made drawing his attention like a magnet.

You continued talking, moving around the kitchen with a deliberate slowness, making sure to drop little things here and there—an innocent spoon, a napkin—just to give yourself an excuse to bend over and pick them up. Each time, you could feel his eyes burning into you, the tension between you two growing with every second.

“Anyway,” you went on, bending down to retrieve a napkin you had accidentally dropped, “I managed to get everything done, but I swear, I don’t know how I didn’t lose my mind.” You straightened up and turned to face him, noticing how his gaze quickly darted away, pretending to be interested in his food.

You walked over to the table, standing beside him, casually adjusting your shorts before leaning on the table, giving him a perfect view. You reached over for the salt and pepper shaker, placing them closer to him. “But that’s enough about me. How was the case?” you asked, feigning innocence as you locked eyes with him.

Spencer swallowed hard, his eyes betraying the effect you were having on him. “It was... intense,” he managed to say, his voice a little strained. “But nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Mmm, I bet,” you murmured, reaching over to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. You let your fingers linger a bit longer than necessary, enjoying the way his breath hitched at your touch. You let the pads of your fingers rub his scalp, earning a purr from his throat.

He shifted in his seat, trying to focus on anything but you, but it was no use. You were relentless in your teasing, and he was quickly losing the battle against his own self-control.

You straightened up, walking away from the table to the other side of the kitchen. “Oh, I almost forgot,” you said, opening the cabinet and pretending to look for something. You bent over slightly, giving him another perfect view as you rummaged through the shelves. “I wanted to show you something I bought the other day…”

Spencer’s patience was wearing thin, and you could feel the heat of his gaze on you as you continued your little charade. When you finally turned back around, his eyes were dark, filled with a mix of frustration and desire that made your heart race.

“I, uh... I think I’m done eating,” he said, pushing his plate away and standing up from the table. His voice was rough, his resolve clearly hanging by a thread.

You smiled sweetly, stepping closer to him. “Are you sure? You barely touched your dinner."

He didn’t answer, his eyes locked on yours, the tension between you two reaching its peak. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the way he was trying so hard to stay composed.

But you had other plans.

Without warning, you reached out and grabbed the edge of his shirt, pulling him closer. “I assume it's the shorts?” you whispered, your voice low and sultry.

That was all it took. Spencer’s restraint snapped, and before you could say another word, he had you pinned against the counter, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that left you breathless.

He pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, “yeah.”

You grinned, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him back in for another kiss, the playful energy between you both finally spilling over into something much more intense.

“I knew you'd like them,” you whispered, your voice a mix of challenge and invitation.

Spencer’s breath was hot against your lips as he smiled, his hands gripping your waist with a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine. “How could I not?” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

You could feel the tension between you dissolving into something electric, something that made your heart race and your skin tingle. The playful teasing had ignited a fire, and now there was no going back.

His lips found yours again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if savoring every moment. You melted into him, your hands roaming over his chest and shoulders, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt tense with need. He kissed you deeply, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, coaxing them apart as he claimed your mouth with a hunger that left you weak in the knees.

His hands wandered down to the small of your back, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you. The heat of his body pressed against yours was intoxicating, and you could feel the steady, powerful beat of his heart through the fabric of his shirt.

Spencer broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as you both tried to catch your breath. His hands slid down to your hips, his thumbs grazing the waistband of your shorts, sending sparks of anticipation through you.

“Those shorts,” he breathed, his voice rough and low, “are driving me crazy.”

You grinned, your heart racing as you ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. “I know,” you whispered back, your lips brushing against his ear. “That was the plan.”

A deep, throaty laugh rumbled in his chest, and before you could say anything else, he lifted you onto the counter with a swift, effortless motion. His hands found your thighs, spreading them apart so he could step between them, pressing his hips against yours in a way that made you gasp.

Your hands gripped the edge of the counter as he leaned in, his lips trailing down your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, your breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts as his kisses grew more insistent.

“You know,” he murmured against your throat, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers through you, “I could think of a few other ways for you to show me how much you love your boyfriend.”

Your breath hitched at his words, a thrill running through you as you felt the heat of his hands sliding up your thighs, teasing the hem of your shorts. You bit your lip, your heart pounding as you leaned in to whisper against his ear, “Then show me.”

That was all the invitation he needed. With a low growl, he captured your lips in another searing kiss, his hands gripping your hips with a need that matched your own. The playful teasing was long gone, replaced by a raw, undeniable passion that consumed you both. His lips moved across your cheek and he began peppering your jawline and neck with open-mouthed kisses while his fingers reached down into the space between you to gently rub the pad of his thumb over your covered clit. You felt his fingers tug at your shorts from the crotch area. Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling and without even realizing it, your hips had begun to buck into his touch, desperate for more.

You lifted your hips, trying to help him remove them, but he didn't move. "Keep 'em on," he murmured.

You tilted your head, pulling back. "Really?"

He nodded, jutting his bottom lip out just enough. "You love your boyfriend, right?"

In the matter of moments, you were a moaning mess after pulled your shorts to the side. He slipped two fingers into your wet cunt, a gasp leaving your lips at the sudden intrusion.

"Spence," you whined, meeting the slow pace of his finger swith your hips each time.

The blissed out look on your face must have given him the confidence to keep talking. "Look at you," he mumbled. "So perfect, so ready to cum all over my fingers."

"Oh, god," you moaned.

"You've always been such a tease," he tutted, pulling his hand away. "Should I give you the same treatment?''

You shook your head, gripping his wrist. "Please don't, Spencer. I deserve it." Usually, you'd argue back that he's equally as much of a tease, but you're desperate.

He keeps your shorts to the side with one hand, undoing his pants with the other. "Are you sure?" He mocked, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

You smiled. "Yes, I do. And you sort of owe me for ruining my shorts."

He lined himself up, slowly pushing into you. "I guess it's only fair."

The moan that escaped your mouth as you felt him fill you was obscene and you would have been embarrassed by it if you weren’t so wrapped up in the feeling of him inside of you. His breath hitched in his throat at the feeling of being deeply seated within you and you could tell he was fighting to keep his eyes open as you lightly rocked your hips against him. You did this for as long as he'd let you, giving him just enough to keep him satisfied.

"I can't take this," he said softly, bringing his hands to your hips again. He nodded down to where your two bodies met. "Hold-"

He didn't even have to finish. You used two fingers hooked around your shorts to keep them out of the way. You reeled into him as he pulled you against him, thighs flush against your ass. He set a much faster pace, brushing against every spot that drove you wild.

"Spence, right there," you gasped, your voice doing nothing to hide the desperation.

“Does that feel good, pretty girl?” His dominant side was clearly taking over and all you could do was nod in response and pull your shorts further.

He stopped abruptly, pulling your hips from the counter. You landed on your feet as he turned you around, bending you over. You spread your thighs apart just wide enough for him to slot between them. He pulled your shorts lower and to the side again.

“Come on, beautiful, use your words,” he urged, sliding in easily, setting a slow but even pace. The change in position had you gripping the counter tightly as you pushed yourself back against him.

“Yes, fuck, it feels so good. Just please, keep going.”

That seemed to be all he needed as he picked up the pace. With each thrust, his tip grazed your g-spot deliciously and you felt your impending orgasm building within you. And he must have been able to tell by the way your walls began contracting around him that you were close because he reached up to wrap his free hand around your hair.

"Do you love your boyfriend?" He taunted.

You nodded, the sting of your hair being pulled only adding to the sensations running through your body. "Yes," you whined, dragging out the syllable.

"How much? So much that you bought these pretty little shorts to prove it? So much that you'll let me fill you up and then walk around in these?" A wicked smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at your response. “Good,” he whispered, his voice dark and commanding. “Because I plan to make sure you feel just how much I love you too. Every. Single. Inch.”

All at once, your back arched further into the counter, orgasm rocketing through your body. Each neuron fried as stars clouded your vision. Obscenities tumbled out of his mouth as his eyes rolled back as he finished, slowing down to ride through his own orgasm. Spencer pulled out, situating your shorts back in place. You winced as you stood up, still leaning against the counter.

"I'll buy you new shorts," he offered.

You waved him off. "I bought three pairs."

"Three pairs?" He asked, almost unable to believe it.

"One in each color," you said with a nod. You managed a breathless laugh, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm as you leaned into him for support. “I knew you’d like them,” you replied, a hint of playful defiance in your tone despite the way your legs trembled.

His eyes darkened with renewed interest, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you whispered, your voice sultry as you reached up to trace the line of his jaw. “But what a way to go.”

He laughed again, the sound filled with a mixture of affection and amusement. "Guess I’ll have to pace myself then," he teased, his hands roaming over your sides as he leaned in to kiss you once more, slow and deep.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reidx reader #spencer reid x you #fanfic #spencer reid smut

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plant-based-feeder · 9 months ago

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We both know you never wanted to be this fat. Who would…..right?

I can imagine how awful it must be to be seen like this in public, so absolutely monstrous that people mock you, and have to do double takes because they’ve never seen someone so fucking fat.

Of course they mock you, because you will never find clothes that will fit ever again. Your body is so grotesquely misshapen by the fat that you’ve forced onto it. How can we expect a normal shirt to contain your massive udders and Christmas ham sized arms. Your belly is another story all together. It either droops down to your thighs when empty or is stuffed so full that it’s like trying to shove a yoga ball into a pillow case.

Thanks to all that weight, every step just looks difficult. Hundreds of pounds pressing onto your poor knees and feet. No wonder they hurt all the time. And I know for a fact that you entire body jiggles with every step thanks to all that blubber. Your so close to perfection. I’m already making the payments on the hospital bed that will be installed once you finally become immobile.

And your just so wide big. Most doorways have to be squeezed through and Bathroom stalls are out of the question. I literate have to move the racks inside clothing stores so that you can fit down the aisle.

You don’t have any hobbies, or friends, or anything except food, and me, the person who happily feeds you whether you want it or not. Entire boxes of doughnuts, whole Pounds of bacon, family sized boxes of burritos.

And those are just the snacks.

Preparing your meals takes up my entire day. I wake up early to serve you breakfast, cook all day for your lunch, and work into the night to make your dinner. Each meal is so large that me can’t even use plates anymore. I just roll out a tablecloth and dump mounds of fatty goodness on top for you to enjoy.

All the time I put in is worth it though. From the rolls of fat on your belly, to your triple chin, to your cellulite ridden ass, you’ve become my masterpiece.

You’ve become exactly what I wanted from you. A slave to your own hunger, and a prisoner in your body.

Just remember, you did this to yourself.

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m-ayo-o · 1 year ago

Text

jjk char reactions;

"hey baby, welcome home, what have you eaten today?"

"not much" :(

very hungry reader had no time to eat all day! fluffy + crack ish. just the main guys. older yuji + megumi. reader likes a lil spicy food. toji + megumi had some kind of relationship. soft sukuna [suggestive right at the end]

satoru gojo

totally overreacts

he'd find it amusing at first, seeing your pouty, hangry face

he will tease and goad you for being so hungry, with numerous belly pokes and cheek squeezes and saying you look cute like this

he'll pause his blabbering just to hear your tummy rumble and gurgle so he can laugh at you some more

after he's eventually finished mocking you and realises just how hungry you are, he'll pat your head and offer to get you something yummy

proceeds to teleport all over the city to collect your favourite dishes from numerous restaurants

comes home with way too much food, all packaged up in fancy boxes and bags- he can barely carry them all

of course, he got his favourites too- eats with you till you're stuffed

"You had THAT??? All day? Angel, baby, how did you survive? Aww, baby's so hungry she can't even fight back. Oh! You really are- oh, you can't stand up? Ok, just sit down here let me get your favourites. Just tell me what you need, I can get anything you want."

nanami kento

gets slightly annoyed then proceeds to mother you like you're his baby chick

he gets a bit worried; he really cares about you and needs to know you're looking after yourself

if not, he will do it for you

he will get out his cook books, have you flick through them and make a choice for your starter, main and dessert

he'll sit you on the kitchen counter while he makes the most wholesome home cooked meal, that he proceeds to serve beautifully !!!

oh, and of course, he won't be letting you feed yourself ever again- starting from tonight

he'll be taking the food to your mouth himself, just to make sure you eat it all

"That's irresponsible, honey. I can go back to making you packed lunches if you want? It really wasn't that much hassle. Ok, right, we can talk about that later. Just sit up here- yep, good girl. We have lots of fresh ingredients so just tell me whatever you want. Oh, you like my cooking? Good, well let me take care of you."

suguru geto

he's endlessly patient with you

like kento, he will be mothering you <3

he asks what exactly you've eaten in the day while stroking your belly gently

he presses sympathetic kisses to your forehead in the hopes to wipe that miserable expression off your face

of course, it works, and he takes your hand and guides you to the living room

he'll lay you down on the sofa, bring you your favourite drink and get you cosy and comfortable

he'll give you one more kiss before leaving for the kitchen

he puts on his apron and waits on you like you're his damn goddess

"Baby, come here, you've got all hangry now. Come on, I need to see your pretty face smiling ok, don't look so grumpy. Just take my hand, yeah come here. Just sit tight, I'll make your favourites, ok? Mm, does that sound good? Ok, good girl, just wait here for me."

toji fushiguro

condescending, belittling, bit mean

but still gives you the goods... eventually puts on his 'best dad' apron that Megumi got him as a joke but he secretly loves it

spanks your ass for banter but nearly makes you fall over

picks you up over his shoulder when he realises what kind of state you're in

plonks you on the sofa and strolls to the kitchen

he's not rushing around for you, he doesn't show you much sympathy in his words- but the food he gives you... says it all

places a little kiss on your cheek and tells you to enjoy the meal (it's so much that you will be full for all of tomorrow as well)

"What? That's nothing, doll. What's up with you? You didn't have any cash? No time, huh. 'kay, well since you're too dumb to prepare food for the day yourself guess I'll have to do it now, hm. Jesus- 'soon as one kid grows up and moves out, looks like I've got myself another one huh? Right, you're not my girl. And I'm not your daddy?"

megumi fushiguro

acts as though it's not his problem- which it really isn't but you're feeling so needy that you just want him to buckle this once and show you some sympathy

you have to spell it out for him that you want him to help you

but once he understands that you want him to take care of you, he feels this odd sense of pride that you're asking

and of course, you've tasted his cooking before- he's amazing and you'd love to encourage him to do it more often

he knows what you like already, so he just cooks in silence and serves you the most delicious meal, filled with all the right spices

it doesn't blow your head off, but gets your tongue tingling in the most satisfying way

once you're done he tidies up immediately and asks if everything was alright

feels more relaxed now you've got everything you need- curls up on the sofa with you and snuggles all night

reminds you to eat well by text every day from now on

"Uh huh. Right. Are you going to make something then? What are you looking at? Oh, you want me to do it? Uh, ok, sure. I suppose I'm not too bad at cooking. Good, I'm glad you liked it. Sure, I can cook for you more often."

yuji itadori

like satoru, flaps around and overreacts like crazy

accidentally makes it worse by talking about all the delicious foods he'd like to eat right now if he were hungry

apologises profusely when he hears your belly rumble and immediately offers to buy you take out

starts to feel sorry that you've had such a hectic day that you couldn't even eat properly

carries you to the sofa like you're his princess and lays you down there with your favourite show on tv

shows you lots of affection and sympathy <3

sits with you and gives you little kisses till your food arrives

"What!!! I can't even imagine how hungry I'd be if that's all I ate! Are you kidding??? That's crazy, there are so many yummy places to eat out there sweetie, you couldn't choose or something? No, oh you just didn't have enough time? Oh wow, you must've been so busy baby, let me order something for you right away!!"

ryomen sukuna

he'd act like the most annoying dad at first

proceeds to chastise you like you're some kind of idiot for not being able to get a good meal all day long

teases you for what feels like an eternity, making shitty jokes about how many mouths he has to feed

finally lets up when you get on your knees on the kitchen floor to start raiding the cupboards

picks you up and you cling to him like a lil baby monkey, trying to kiss his tattooed face when he sets you on the sofa surprisingly lovingly

he just pushes you off and heads to the kitchen

he's never cooked for you before, but it's surprisingly good and you eat it all so quickly he chuckles and offers you dessert by tugging at the waistband of his pants

"Silly girl, can't even take care of herself. Ok, ok, chill out. I'm only kidding, let me do it. Here, you really are a useless brat. Just- no- lie down if you can't do anything else. Yes, I'll make something for you. Whatever. O-oh, you're still hungry...?"

reblog if ur hungry lol also idk what happened to me with this one- will never write fluff again haha

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improbable-outset · 5 months ago

Text

📄 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐭

Kenji Sato x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.3k (FUUUUUUU)

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: One sided pinning (or that’s what Kenji believes), Reader is a daddy’s girl (me) and Kenji has daddy issues :,) brief harassment from a drunkie, Kenji saves your ass though, insecurities from Ken, Friends to More (?)

𝐀/𝐍: First Kenji fic I’m posting. If this does flop uhhh no one saw that 🫣🫣

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Kenji tells himself that he only frequents the local restaurant because their food is always the best, made with the freshest ingredients. Definitely not because he enjoys finding excuses to chat with the owner’s attractive daughter, who often helps out as an unofficial waiter.

Kenji rarely found a place to eat without being overwhelmed by baseball fans who knew nothing about personal space. While he appreciated the admiration, it was increasingly frustrating having to sit down for a meal and being disrupted.

But that wasn’t his main concern. He knew that if fans saw him dining at a certain restaurant, it would soon be flooded, limiting space in the establishment.

Fortunately, he found Kokochi Tei, a small family-owned restaurant run by a widower and occasionally his daughter, who helped as a waitress. The place quickly became his sanctuary, offering both privacy and delicious food.

Initially, Kenji frequented Kokochi Tei for its food and respect for privacy. But everything changed when you started helping out at the restaurant.

He found himself looking for you the moment he entered, hoping you were working that day. He didn’t understand what it was about you that piqued his interest.

But he knew that the hidden gem of the establishment seemed even brighter when you were there—or maybe that was just the sun reflecting on the window.

At first, he thought at all stemmed from his envy of your relationship with your father, as self-projecting as it sounded.

It never crossed his mind that he might actually be interested in you as an individual until you started interacting with him more one-on-one while serving the other patrons.

His brows creased from carrying the day's weight as he sat behind the shoji screen, though he was hopeful that coming to Kokochi Tei would turn things around.

He noticed your figure behind the screen getting closer as you headed to his table, menu in hand. Your strides always seemed to carry some grace.

“Are you sure you don’t want the menu this time?” You asked, clutching onto the menu against your chest.

“Yeah, no.” Kenji shook his head, his lips tugging up in a small smirk. “Your father is like a maestro in the kitchen, I think I’d rather take the chance,” he leaned back in his seat with his broad arms crossed over his chest.

Eating at Kokochi Tei meant expecting the unexpected, especially when it came to your father’s cooking. He was always experimenting with different dishes and Kenji would accept it, even if it was something he never had. “So, what’s special for tonight?”

“Well…Dad’s been experimenting with some Vietnamese dishes, and he nailed a chicken pho ga recipe,”

“Pho, really now?” He arched his brow, interest piqued. “How can I pass up on some chicken pho? Sounds good.”

“Alright, one bowl of pho it is,” you said.

“You’d dad was practically busting his ass in the kitchen before I got here. Is he…doing okay?” The question lingered for a moment, Kenji’s gaze drifted towards the kitchen at the far back.

“Ah…he will be once I run him a bath after,”

“Oh is that so?” He responded, his lips curled to a full grin. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full then, huh?”

“Mhmm I think he’s trying to keep himself distracted after Mom’s not around anymore…” your voice trailed off at the end. It was a sensitive topic that you wouldn’t elaborate on. You blinked and spoke again, “So…pho ga?”

“Yeah. Oh, and a glass of your dad’s homemade green tea if he’s got any,”

“Of course…should be ready in 15.” You turned your heels to leave.

“Oh…and by the way,” Kenji called out, making you halt in your tracks before you turned back to look at him. There was something about the way you perked up when he called after you that sent a flutter through him. “Did you happen to catch the game today?”

“You know I always do. Dad’s always a fan.” You responded. He held his gaze at you, watching your every expression as you spoke.

“So, I assumed you saw my little fight with the catcher, too.”

“Yeah…what’s with that?”

He sighed, ranking a hand through his hair as he recalled the event. “Long story short: the guy had a smartass comment he just needed to say.” He said, a hint of irritation evident in his voice. “And, I’m sure you know me. I don’t tend to stay quiet when I get riled up,”

He wondered what you were thinking when you watched him tussle with the catcher live on television.

Shifting in his seat at the thought, he continued, “You uh…probably saw how the coach pulled from the game after that…”

“Heh—” you stifled a laugh before covering your mouth, clearly amused by his compromising anecdote.

“What’s that sweet giggle for, huh?” He said with a tease before adding on “Don’t you have tables to wait,” he pointed out with a huff, though he couldn’t hold back his smile that gave away his unseriousness. You always found a way for him to bring out his more relaxed side.

“Uh huh,” You managed to compose yourself before you left his table to attend to the other patrons.

“Yeah…that’s what I thought,” he watched you walk away with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. A few silent moments passed by, his eyes darted around the restaurant, observing anything that could keep his attention.

There were a few paintings hung on the wall with contemporary art pieces and a few plants dotting the space. He leaned over to look past the shoji screen, trying to get a quick glance of you.

He couldn’t help but take note of you as you walked around and served the other patrons. The restaurant wasn’t busy tonight, so your movements were more fluid, with a smoother flow, rather than rushed and on your toes when the restaurant was packed.

It was enticing, even though he knew he could never be in that position— but you always made it look so easy with your welcoming demeanor.

Eventually, you headed over to his table at the back with a tray in hand.

“Here’s your pho go. I got dad to add extra chili just how you like it.” you placed the bowl of hot, steaming pho on the table in front of him. The delicious aroma was irresistible.

“And tea!” You placed a teapot with a cup next to the bowl, along with some cutlery and napkins.

“Thank you,” he said, glancing up at you with a smile. He knew the tea would be divine as always. “Pass along my compliments to your dad, yeah?”

“Always,”

“Perfect,” he started taking a spoonful of the pho, blowing the steam away before he brought it up to his lips and took a sip. He let the pho sit on his tongue to savour the flavour; it was definitely something different but still incredible. “You’re a damn good waitress, you know that.”

“I’m just…doing my job when I can,” you said meekly.

“Well, you do it damn well, if anything,” a thought erupted in his mind, wondering about your love life. He never saw you with a partner, even if he saw a glimpse of your life.

Even if it felt a little invasive, he was conflicted on whether he should ask you or not, especially with the small relationship you’ve built over the months of talking.

He knew he should hold his tongue about it, but he took the risk and asked anyway, before his doubts overtook him. “You got a boyfriend or anything,”

“Sorry?”

Oh God, don’t make him repeat himself.

“Come on, a boyfriend? Any guy at all that you’re seeing?” He always imagined asking the question with a better, more smooth delivery— not like this. Nevertheless, he was glad the question was out of the way now.

“Nope,” you said. Despite the newfound revelation, a part of him made him doubt that you would even give him a chance, given his status.

You probably only saw him as the famous baseball star who was a regular at your father’s restaurant with a big ego. Although the latter wasn’t completely wrong, he knew he was more than that but he was unsure if you were curious to explore more, like he was.

“Ah, single then, are you?” Even with his lingering doubts, there was still a sense of satisfaction with your answer, maybe some underlying hope now that he knew you weren’t seeing anyone. “I was starting to believe you’d have line of guys at your feet,”

Whether it was true or not— and he really hoped it was the latter— he didn’t want to further broach the thought of other men trying to flirt with you. He was aware of how selfish that must’ve sounded, hence why he tried to keep his feelings in check.

“Yeah…heard of that one before,”

“Heh, just trying to compliment you,” he quipped. “No need to shoot down every word that comes out of my mouth,”

He caught a playful eye roll from you as he resumed eating, taking another spoonful of the pho and relishing its taste.

He could taste the slight kick from the chili just the way he liked it. It made him wonder if you remembered other small details about him, but he quickly brushed it off before he started speculating other scenarios.

After another spoonful, he asked, “So, when do you close?”

“We’re not closing until another hour,”

“Right, right. Just another hour,” he said with a hum, continuing on the pho in front of him. “And I’m guessing you’re aren’t gonna sit down and keep me company,”

“Yeah, probably not…”

“Ouch, you’re breaking my heart here.” He teased, clenching his chest to add emphasis to his feigned hurt. “You’d rather run around catering to other people than keep this baseball player company.”

“Well you've got your tea to keep you busy,” you shot back, your teasing words matching his wittiness.

He chuckled at that, giving the tea that was sitting besides his bowl a pointed gaze. “Yeah, ‘cause it’s a great listener,” he said sarcastically.

“Oh, for sure. Totally silent and won’t interrupt you and such.”

He let out a scoff, but his amused smile was still present on his face. “Yeah, smartass. Keep it up and I might decide to stay here all night.”

You arched a brow at that. “We’ll see what dad has to say about that.”

“Please,” his lips curled into a smirk. “If anything, he’ll probably beg me to stay. The tips I give are probably the only reason this place is still in business.” He knew full well how much your dad loved serving him and having him around, and not just because of the hefty tips he gave everytime.

It’s not often that Kenji let his insecurities get the best of him. Matter of fact, it was so rare, the feeling was almost foreign to him.

He wouldn’t let them overshadow his confidence, especially when he needed it the most on the field when there were hundreds and hundreds of eyes on him in real-time or when he’s doing his Ultraman duties with the citizens relying on him to keep them safe.

But being in a situation like this felt like navigating a complex maze where he has no sense of direction. Whenever he was with you, Kenji felt like the doubts in his head were a little louder than usual, and he was worried that one day, his blasé mask would slip away.

“You know, he was on my case last time when I was hanging around your table.” You commented.

“Oh really? You think he’s afraid of losing his regular customer to a pretty waitress? I won’t ditch him anytime soon. Gotta show my appreciation to these heavenly meals, you know,”

“I think he’s more concerned about me hitting on you,”

Kenji froze momentarily, the spoonful of the noodles halfway to his mouth, before he looked up at you with genuine surprise. “Wait wait wait— he seriously thinks you’d try making a move on me?” The thought alone seemed too baffling for him to comprehend.

“Yes, he does,”

A small chuckle escaped him before it morphed into a full blown laughter. He noticed through his teary eyes that you still held your serious expression. “That’s-” he began, taking a deep breath to compose himself. “Oh wow…your old man actually thinks you’re after me?”

Although the claim sounded comical hearing it out loud, Kenji hoped that there was some truth to it—even if he did disguise his hope with his laugh just now.

Just the thought of him catching your eye like that made something in him stir with a spark of excitement and nervousness.

“Unfortunately, and that’s all he talks about,” you finished your sentence with a groan. Kenji wondered how you really felt about the situation. Were you truly denying any interest, or was there something you’re holding back?

“He’s been talking to you about me, then, has he? About how you’re all falling for my charms and such?”

“Urgh, I don’t even want to feed that idea into his head,”

“But why not?” He leaned forward on his chair with his arms resting against the table. “I’m sure this whole thing is giving him a good laugh,” It was quite charming seeing the dynamic between you and your father and how your father felt about your interaction. Though he really hoped that he wasn’t temperamental about it.

“More like another reason to be on my case…I’ve already stressed him out for giving the wrong order to a few customers this week alone,”

He recalled one incident that had been going around the dining area. “Right…didn’t you give a guy beef noodles when he was supposed to get pork instead?”

You pressed your lips together in mild annoyance at the reminder, and he chuckled at your quiet response.

“Yeah. Poor fella probably had a fit once he realised what happened. I’m sure you had an earful from your dad after that,” he add

Just at that moment, another customer entered the restaurant, and you were already on your toes to serve them a table.

There was a flicker of disappointment in his eyes at the interruption; he was really enjoying your conversation, but of course, your job comes first.

“Duty calls, huh?” You nodded in silent response. “Go on then, go play nice and serve your customers.”

The male customer trotted over to an empty table, trying to hide the clumsiness in his steps. Kenji was never superstitious, but something about that man just at first glance rang all alarm bells in him.

He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but his instincts were telling him to keep a close eye on the interaction and stay on high alert.

The longer he watched the the conversation between you and the newcomer, the more he could pick up on his behaviour.

His crooked smile, his relaxed yet provocative body language, and his slight slurred speech all pointed to him being intoxicated.

The man’s presence disrupted the calm atmosphere in the room, and Kenji couldn’t help but find himself on edge.

As you left for the kitchen to fetch his order, Kenji didn’t miss the man staring at your backside. It was obvious that he was eyeing your body like a shark sizing up it’s prey.

Kenji’s protective instinct kicked into overdrive, making him clutch the spoon in his hand hard enough to leave a dent on his palm.

He continued to watch as you returned from the kitchen, only to be met with the obnoxious patron who was getting more unruly by the minute. Kenji couldn’t hear the conversation from where he was sitting, but he could tell that you were uncomfortable.

You maintained your forced smile through your nervousness, and he could only seethe from his seat.

It took every ounce of willpower not to step in and cause a scene.

But something in him snapped the moment the man reached out and tried stroking her leg. All the tension he had held back boiled over.

In a swift motion, he stood up from his seat, the chair scraping against the wooden floor with a loud screech. He strode over towards the table, each step fueled with purpose and irritation.

He placed a hand on your shoulder and felt you jolt from the sudden contact.

“Come here,” he muttered, his voice gentle yet firm.

“What?”

“Just come closer,” he urged, the grip on your shoulder growing slightly tighter. Despite his calm exterior, his eyes betrayed his irritation.

You did as you was told and moved towards him. Immediately, he pulled you close and wrapped a protective arm around your waist, making sure you were behind him, shielding you from the man’s lecherous gaze with his athletic frame.

In the deepest pit of his gut, he felt a tinge of nervousness having been this close to you and having his arm around you. He always imagined what it would be like to be in this position but not in a situation like this.

But he brushed that thought aside as he looked down at the man, his eyes narrowed into slits. His voice instantly dropped to a dangerous tone, dripping with menace. “You got a problem?”

The man didn’t seemed fazed, still maintaining his lopsided grin, which only fueled his irritation further. “Nah, just having fun with the waitress here,”

Kenji felt his gut twist as the man’s spoke. ‘Fun.’ The word echoed in his head “Well, your fun ends here.”

“What, you got a problem with a guy just having a good time? Look at her, she loves the attention.” The man tried to lean to the side so he could take a look at you, but Kenji immediately blocked his view.

“She clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you,”

“You her boyfriend or something?” The customer sneered.

Kenji felt you tense behind him at that question. A part of him wanted to claim that title— not only to get the man to back off, but also to finally say it out loud, just to see how it felt like on his tongue.

But feeling how you tensed up made him second guess, so he kept his answer vague. “It doesn’t matter if I am her boyfriend or not, you’re going to leave her alone now.”

The man was completely oblivious to Kenji’s mounted annoyance. Kenji was surprised he didn’t recognise him, but that could be the alcohol completely skewing his judgment. Kenji leaned in so he was forced to focus on him.

“Eyes on me,” his voice sharpened, a hot razor blade. “She's not for you to touch or ogle, do you understand?”

The drunk man’s bravado evaporated under Kenji’s intense glare. He realised that continuing to provoke him would only lead to more trouble. He shifted in his seat before standing up unsteadily.

“Fine, fine I get it. She’s yours. No need to get all territorial, man.” The man muttered before staggering out of the restaurant, his balance wavering as he walked.

Once he was out of sight, the restaurant slowly resumed to its usual buzz and the patrons turned their attention back to their food. Though there was still a lingering awkwardness in the room that was hard to ignore.

Kenji’s attention shifted back to you, his fury melting into concern. You still look shaken and he could feel your muscles still taunt from the encounter.

His voice lowered to a softer tone, a mix of concern and protectiveness. “You alright?”

It took a moment before you could respond, your voice barely above a whisper but still audible enough for him to hear. “Y-yeah…I think so,”

Kenji could still send the remnants of fear lingering in your eyes and notice the slight tremor in your frame. The shock of the incident was still fresh and you were still trying to process what had just happened to you.

“I think I might close up early for the night,” you said, and he nodded in understanding. The whole ordeal must’ve taken a toll on you and you probably weren’t in the right state of mind to continue serving.

“Let me help you,” he offered.

“You don’t have to. Your pho…” you started, but he waved off your concern. His only focus was to make sure you were comfortable.

“Forget about that, it’s cold anyways. I’m helping you, no arguments.” He insisted firmly, leaving no room for debate in his tone.

Without waiting for a response from you, he reluctantly let go of you, wishing he could hold you a bit longer.

Fortunately, the place was quiet tonight and there were only a few customers scattered around finishing off their meals. He approached them one by one and politely asked them to finish up and head out, explaining the place was closing early.

As he waited for the place to clear out, his gaze lingered back on you as you started cleaning up the counter and counting the tip jar. You were uncharacteristically stiff and mechanical. Seeing you like this made his chest ache.

He wondered how often these things happened to you while you were on the clock. This was the first time he had witnessed anything like that, and he hated that some jackass ruined your night after seeing how relaxed you were earlier.

A few minutes later, once the last customer had walked out, Kenji returned to you, vigilant. “They’re all gone now.”

You didn’t meet his eyes, too stunned to focus on anything other than the floor. His chest tightened at the sight. “My dad’s gonna be pissed,”

“Why would he be pissed? It’s not your fault some drunk guy was harassing you.” He took a step closer, trying to study your expression.

You let out a solemn sigh, enough for him to feel the weight of your worry. He wanted to reach out and comfort you, but he knew you probably didn’t want to be touched right now.

“Hey, look at me.”

You glanced up at him briefly, then quickly interjected before he could speak, “You should uhm…finish off your pho. Don’t want it to get wasted, huh?” You quickly added, “Do you like dorayaki?”

He paused, surprised by your sudden change of topic. He couldn’t tell if it was a coping mechanism from your distress, but he appreciated your attempt to lighten the mood. “Dorayaki? Yeah, I love them,”

“Let me give you one…it’s on the house for helping me.” Before he could respond, you were already heading to the front counter where the dorayaki were displayed.

You wrapped one in a napkin and handed it to him. He accepted it gracefully, wrapping his large hand around the treat. “You sure your dad won’t get mad at you for giving away free food,”

“I don’t think he’ll notice anyway,” you said. “Plus, he’ll probably do the same, being his favourite baseball player and all.”

“Oh, so I’m the favourite, huh?” He unwrapped the dorayaki and took a bite. “Well, I had to admit, your dad’s got good taste in baseball,”

“Yeah…don’t see why he’d have an issue with me hitting on you, if that was the case, considering how much he admires your game play and such.”

“Can't blame him for being protective of you. I wouldn’t want some cocky bastard hitting on you either,”

“Oh, so you admit that you’re a bastard,”

“Guilty as charged, but I’m the kind of bastard that knows how to treat a girl right. Unlike those idiots that only see you as a piece of meat,”

He paused, recalling the incidents from earlier. He didn’t want to mull over what could’ve happened if things turned out differently. “I’m just glad I was here tonight. I wasn’t going to let some asswipe take advantage of you.”

A sudden outburst could be heard from the kitchen before the back door slammed open, revealing your father’s hardened face.

You stood upright, preparing for the confrontation. “Baba…”

You dad eyed both of you and he could almost feel the suspicion rising from him. His voice was gruff with a protective anger, “What is going on here?”

“It’s not what it looks like. I had to close the shop half an hour early,” you said quickly.

“And what’s the reason for that?”

Kenji took this opportunity to step in before things escalated further, not wanting you to revisit the story again. “Because some drunkard was harassing her. She felt uncomfortable and decided to close up early for safety reasons.”

Your dad’s attention darted at Kenji, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He was used to people recognising him along with the shocked and awestruck look on their faces when they see him. But the way you dad was looking at him was something new, and he didn’t know how to react in the situation.

He quickly looked back at you and asked, “Is it true? Someone was messing with you?”

“Yeah…he touched me,” you said before gesturing to Kenji, “but Kenji stopped it from escalating,”

Your father still seemed guarded as he asked, “You stepped in?”

“Yeah, I did. I wasn’t going to stand by and watch her get harassed,”

You father’s gaze flickered between the two of you, his earlier suspension giving way to grudging respect. He was aware of Kenji’s reputation, both on and off the field. If the pro-baseball player had intervened, it must’ve meant the situation was serious enough to warrant it.

You picked up on your dad’s hesitation. “Baba, I was never trying to make a move on Kenji. You can even ask him,”

For some odd reason, Kenji felt his heart quicken at your words. Hearing you actually mentioning it to your father felt almost cathartic.

Kenji felt his eyes on him again, almost looking for confirmation from him. Kenji nodded, keeping his voice level, despite his senses going haywire right now, “She’s telling the truth, nothing inappropriate is going on between us,”

The room seemed to relax as your father’s tense demeanor faded. Perhaps after hearing it from Kenji himself was enough to convince him.

“Alright, I just wanted to make sure that nothing is going on behind my back,” he said. “Looks like I have to pack everything away in the kitchen,”

“I’m sorry, Baba.”

“It’s not your fault, don’t apologise. I’m just glad you’re okay,”

Your father looked back at Kenji, his expression more sincere now. “And I guess I owe you a thanks for stepping in and saving the day,”

“I gave him free dorayaki,” you chimed in.

“Ah, rewarding him with food, huh? That’s my girl.” He turned back to Kenji and stuck his hand out.

“I appreciate you looking out for her, son. Thank you.” He gave Kenji a firm handshake, though the word ‘son’ had struck him more than he let on, sending an odd feeling through his body. He didn’t think hearing another father calling him that would affect him.

Though he simply nodded, his expression was sincere, “No problem. I wouldn’t have let anything bad happen to her,”

He was still taken back by the unexpected term of endearment from your dad, cutting through his usual confidence. Memories of his own strained relationship with his father flickered in his mind, something he hadn’t confronted with for a while.

Your father gave you both a final nod before he headed back to the kitchen to finish off the last bits of closing.

Kenji maintained his gaze on the back door where you dad just exited, his mind now racing. He started speculating on how different things would be now, and more importantly, how you felt about the situation.

“What’s with that face?” You voiced snapped him out of his deep trance. He didn’t realise how silent he had been until you spoke up.

He turned back to look at you, “I just can't get over the fact that you dad seems to consider me a hero for saving you today,” he said jokingly, though there was some truth to it.

It was refreshing to be seen as more than just a star player; your father saw him for his character and actions. Even if it was just a brief glimpse, gaining your father’s trust and respect felt like a significant accomplishment— something he hadn’t achieved with his own father.

“I can’t believe he called you son, eugh.” Kenji couldn’t believe it either, still hung up on that moment. The gratification still felt fresh, and he hoped that feeling would last.

“Yeah, that too. Seems like he’s accepted me into the family,” he smiled.

“Oh God…” you groaned, massaging your temple to emphasise your feigned exasperation.

“Don’t worry, I won’t take offense to it. I actually find it entertaining.”

“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it,” you said.

It was definitely more than that to him, given the gravity of the situation with his own father.

But he wasn’t going to admit that to you. Maybe one day he’d share more of his family life with you, now that he seemed to be more than just a customer here.

“You know, it’s actually kind of amusing how you’re so bothered by this,” he mused.

“I think you got on his good side, so good for you.”

“Oh, I think I’ve got more that just his good side,”

“What do you mean?”

His smile morphed into a full grin, “Well I just saved his daughter from being harassed. He’s probably thinking of seeing me as a potential son-in-law.”

Shit, why did he say that. Did he sound weird?

You grumbled. “Don’t get excited now,”

Seeing your grumpy expression gave him some relief. It was better than seeing you disturbed. Then again, you were probably used to his teasing by now, so he couldn’t be too surprised.

“Relax, I’m not getting my hopes up…”

Lies.

“…I know you’re not swooning over me like your dad thinks,”

“But I’m pretty sure he’s noticed the way you freeze everytime I look at you when you come into the restaurant,”

He almost choked on his own saliva when you said that. He didn’t think that you’d notice, but now that you had, he wondered how obvious he was.

“I…don’t do that. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mentally cursed himself for stuttering. No one had this much of an effect on him, and he didn’t know how to act.

“Just the other day, a man scolded at you for holding the queue,” you commented. Of course you would remember that.

“Alright, fine. I admit it. Maybe I do get a bit distracted sometimes when you look at me. But can you blame me?”

You covered your mouth to hide your snickering, holding back from laughing too hard. “Wow…I didn’t think you were that whipped,”

He huffed at that but he wasn’t going to deny it, even if it did hurt his pride. He knew he was more than just whipped; with those pretty eyes and beautiful smile, you could make him do just about anything.

“Yeah, okay. Laugh it all you want,” he muttered. He didn’t expect you to lean in towards him, invading his line of sight.

Oh no…you were more breathtaking up close.

“Hmm, I might be tempted to drag this out a little, just to see how far you’ll go.” You said, a small smile hinting a tease.

He swallowed thickly before he spoke, mirroring your tone, “Oh, really? You’re gonna make me work for it?”

He wouldn’t mind that if it meant spending more time with you. Every interaction with you was exhilarating and he would take the chance if it meant taking things further with you outside of your work.

The positive interaction with your father gave him a much-needed boost of confidence. If your father trusted him, maybe you would, too.

“Well…what if we start things slow and I asked you to dinner then? I’ll do you good and take you somewhere fancy since you have good taste in food,”

Seeing the way your eyes light before you answered made his chest warm with gratitude. “That sounds nice actually….yeah, I’d like that,”

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