#sending you love right back <333 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

k-hotchoisan · 5 months ago

Note

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

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

his favourite

<prof!san x fem!reader>

Prof Choi likes playing favourites.

You’re his favourite.

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

Word count: 12.3K

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

apply for taglist here!

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

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

“Why not try for the department chair?”

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

“Who?”

“Professor Choi?”

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

“Why the fuck would I try him?”

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

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

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

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

Right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who did you get?”

“Choi San.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

That sealed your fate.

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

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

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

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

Until now that is.

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

You had to collect yourself before Prof Choi collected you.

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

“Come in.”

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

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

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

Fuck, he’s still so handsome.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re usually in a little earlier.”

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

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

“What’s this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the hell were you thinking?

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

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

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

“Huh?” Is all you manage to reply.

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

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

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

“So you’re single”, you echo.

He nods, “I’m single.”

What is this strange feeling of relief?

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

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

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

You glare at him.

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

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

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

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

You did? “I did?”

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

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

“Is that why you kept-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re going off with Choi Jongho?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow hard, your body still frozen in spot.

“What do you think about him then?”

“Jongho? I was just-“

“No. Choi San.”

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

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

“I t-think Prof-“

“San. Choi San”, he corrects you.

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

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

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

“Mmhm.”

“And he’s really so-“

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you Prof Choi. See you tomorrow.”

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

“See you too, y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You try out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Prof. Hey cutie.”

San blinks. What did he just call you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, Is San not going?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cute? You think Jongho is…cute?”

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

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

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

“Well, I mean-“

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

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

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

“Prof-“

“No. It’s sir.”

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

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

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Yes, sir.”

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

“Good girl.”

Of course, he claims it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you asking?”

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

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

“Y/n?”

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

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

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

You laugh softly at his words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You force a smile and shake your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n”, you hear San call you.

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

“Come here. Help me look at this.”

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

And it definitely seems to be ticking him off.

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

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

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

He’s making you face him now.

You’re still not giving him eye contact.

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

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

Shit. You know that clear as day.

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

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

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

And you’re finally looking right at him.

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

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

He leans in closer.

“Then why are you avoiding my eye contact?”

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

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

San is waiting for you to continue.

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

“And?”

“It made me want…more.”

There’s a moment of silence.

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

It makes your heart flutter.

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

This is not right. This is so dangerous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir, I’m not sure-“

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

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

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

God, Choi San thinks he’s in heaven.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please what, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Especially one of them.

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

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

He bites his cheek.

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

He just doesn’t know how to tell you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck just happened?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S-sir…!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. Oh god.

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

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

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

Your mind is a complete puddle.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now on your knees.”

You’ve never dropped to your knees so fast.

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

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

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

“Look at me”, he instructs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-yes sir.”

“How are you feeling?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We need to talk-“

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

But you’re stubborn.

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

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

“We didn’t kiss”, you reiterate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But why would he do that for?”

“He was trying to rile you up.”

“For what?”

“To see if you felt anything for me?”

“By kissing you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me what?”

“That I’m in love with you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The moment I received your teaching assistant application.”

📚 Bonus Epilogue 📚

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

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

“Yes?”

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

San nods, taking the papers from her.

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

“Prof, you’re married?”

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

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

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

“I am.”

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

“Tell me more then”, she asks.

San scoffs playfully, turning his gaze to her.

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

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fushitoru · 3 days ago

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chapter 6: the house party a bridgerton au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, SUGGESTIVE, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, description of injury, concussion, blood, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ you are bedridden, recovering from your wound, when gojo delivers season-changing news. the house party that follows buzzes with tension, and an unexpected arrival that sends ripples through the ton (7.4k)

a/n thank you as always to the pooks @/sinn-clair for beta reading this <333 i'll see you after the chapter is over!

prev. the fall | next. soon!

general masterlist | series masterlist

Gentle Reader,

One query occupies this Author's mind, be it ladies or mamas alike—what exactly are Miss Itadori and Lord Gojo up to in the countryside? Perhaps a trifling dalliance of hearts, or will the ton bear witness to a scandal uncovered when they arrive for the house party? After having arrived a week early—and positioned as the diamond of the season—one must guess that if all goes well and Miss Itadori plays her cards right, she will be showing off her new surely lavish diamond engagement ring. Yet, she must take great care, for to err in this delicate matter would be to jeopardize a most significant match with Lord Gojo. Only time shall tell the outcome of this intrigue.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Upon waking, the physician informed you that you had been unconscious for some days. Though no immediate danger threatened you, it had been long enough to send both families into a state of great disquiet. It seemed that even before you’d regained full awareness, a servant—who had gasped upon hearing your feeble request for water—had swiftly spread the news, for not a moment later Yuji burst into the room.

“SISTER!” he exclaims, hurtling his way towards you with heavy steps. You flinch in your position on the bed at the sound of his loud voice. “You are awake! Mama seemed like she would faint, Choso had almost popped a bloody vein, he looked like he was about to challenge Lord Gojo to a duel—”

“Yuji! My dear,” you had to shout, interrupting the boy’s ramblings, giving him an uneasy smile. “Lower your volume, please. I might faint back into unconsciousness due to the strain, and this time you will be the one dueling Choso.”

The pout Yuji adopts is akin to a chastened hound as he grabs a chair to sit next to you. You take this moment to surveil your surroundings, now with a clear headedness granted to you that hadn’t been granted before. There were fresh flowers adorning a vase on the table on your bedside, and you seemed to be wearing a shift, cleaned and changed out of your dirty and mud-ridden dress. There was a gauze surrounding your head, and you could feel some similar cloth on your ankle.

You turned to your brother. “Now then, what were you saying?”

He perks up. “Well, you’ve been in quite a state, dear sister! It’s not every day you’re injured before breaking fast. Choso practically spat his tea when he heard! And, of course, Duchess Gojo has been endlessly apologetic. Between Mama, Choso, and me, we’ve all been in quite a state. I daresay you’re hardly known for clumsiness—although you do have your moments on horseback.” At the memories seemingly pooling themselves in his mind, Yuji sniggers while you shoot him a look to not be testy. “And Gojo has been nothing short of attentive. No doubt the man’s come in to change your flowers more than the doctor’s visited you. He’s so caring, he even cares for a worm like you!”

You ignore Yuji’s jab, instead forcing yourself not to be gripped by the fact that Gojo had been so…attentive to you. Of course, it was as an indirect result of his sheer vexing nature that you were bedridden in such a manner, so it should not set your heart aflutter like a foolish girl. But your traitorous heart seems to hate listening to reason.

You begin to nod slowly. “And how many days have I been out? When is the house party?” Taking a gander at the windows in the room you were situated in, you could see the moon and star’s light filtering the curtains. You weren’t sure if it was the evening or night or completely early in the morning.

He looks up to the ceiling, as if calculating something, brows furrowed. “Today.”

Groaning, you put your head in your hands, playing with your hair as it falls through the gaps of your fingers. “Mother is going to kill me.”

“Oh, indeed,” Yuji replied with a hum, stretching his arms in a cat-like yawn. “Now, I must get back to my rest. The servants were gossiping near my door, so I thought I’d see for myself that you weren’t dead.” He kissed you on the cheek before heading to the door. “Sleep, sister, for I expect Mama will tire you endlessly come morning.”

Later, a gentle nudge at your arm and a few soft “Miss! Wake up!”’s roused you from sleep. You opened your eyes to find a maid hunched over you, relief clear in her expression as you met her gaze with a drowsy squint. “Miss, Lord Gojo requests your presence. May I allow him in?”

With a nod, you fought off your annoyance at having been disturbed. The maid, visibly flustered, hurried to admit Gojo, who soon approached with quiet footsteps. As you propped yourself up, arms crossed, you gave him a mildly reproachful look. “Gojo, you’ve roused me from my slumber. I trust this is a matter of utmost importance—-” you began, then trailed off as you took in his expression.

He was taut, as though his very sinews were wound tight. Standing rigidly, his jaw clenched, his gaze flitted everywhere but to you. Troubled, you tried, “Gojo?”

At the sound of his name, he looked sharply at you and seemed to gather himself. “Ah… forgive me.” He took a seat and smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes, artificial. “How is your recovery?” You eye him suspiciously. His leg is moving up and down anxiously, the action minute in a way that makes you think he’s not aware of doing it. The tight and strained smile on his face seems uncanny, his concern seeming out of place. “Well, as much as it can be for me bleeding out pints and pints of blood from my head,” at that, you note that he subtly flinches, “but all is well!” You spread out your arms and give him a dazzling smile, and his eyes follow. “I’m sure my mama and my maid are itching to rush in here to prepare me for the house party.” Giving him a playful glare, you continue, “And just for the pain you caused me, you ought to have two dances and a few pastries prepared tonight.”

At that, he looks at you for a quick glance before quickly turning away, seemingly collecting himself. In what you could observe in his previous expression, you were surprised to see yearning present in his blue eyes, filled with feelings that perplexed you. Gojo was acting very odd.

Then, he drew in a measured breath, his jaw clenched as if bracing himself for what he was about to say. He finally looked at you, a shadowed intensity in his gaze that made your heart beat faster—not in the way it used to when his eyes sparked with wit, but with a sense of foreboding.

"Miss Itadori," he began, his voice lower, lacking the familiar, teasing cadence. "I must apologize for the trouble I have brought upon you. I was… heedless, perhaps even reckless, and it seems I have caused you nothing but suffering."

You frowned, confusion beginning to bubble beneath the surface as he paused, clearly struggling to continue. He seemed almost pitiable, looking down at his hands, which were tightly woven together, his knuckles pale. But pity was not a feeling you had patience for. Not now. Not with Gojo of all people.

"Trouble?" you repeated, folding your arms. "I do believe that's an understatement, my lord. A mere misstep, surely?"

His eyes flicked back to yours, the corner of his mouth tugging in a grim semblance of a smile. "Understatement or not, it remains the truth," he replied, his voice nearly a murmur. "I cannot in good conscience continue this… attachment we have formed. The position of courtship our mamas have placed us in. For I fear it is you who stands to lose most dearly if I remain by your side."

You stiffened, his words crashing over you like a cold wave. "Attachment?" you said, bitterness coloring the word. "Do not dress it up with such kind words, Lord Gojo. An attachment is something formed with care, with respect—qualities you seem to find inconvenient."

He winced but did not break eye contact. "I will not argue with you," he said softly, voice steady in its regret. "Perhaps I am no master of attachments, nor have I ever claimed to be. But know that I had never wished to see you harmed—"

"Harmed?" you interrupted, your voice growing louder as anger swelled within you. "Is this some twisted apology, then? A show of remorse for the inconvenience of your whims?"

Gojo opened his mouth to respond, but you did not allow him the chance.

"How very noble of you, Lord Gojo," you continued, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "After all this time, to simply say, 'Forgive me; I shall now remove myself from your life,' as if that makes up for the chaos you’ve brought upon me? As if I am but a pawn to be moved at your discretion?"

His face softened slightly, as if he were seeing something in you he hadn't fully expected—a quiet resolve beneath your anger, a dignity that refused to be bruised. "No, Miss Itadori," he said quietly. "I do not wish to see you as a pawn. After all, from what I understand is that you do not know what you desire—and I would only be exploiting that. I only… I only wish to relieve you of the burdens I seem to bring."

You laughed, the sound bitter and laced with fury. "Know what I want? As if you do, dropping pretenses with commoners and putting on your mask for the ton. And relieve me? I don’t think you understand what it is you’ve done, Gojo."

This conversation was dangerous. The emotions you hid under the air of nonchalance were steadily bubbling up, and it seemed that now, your sentiments were threatening to boil over at the sheer audacity of Gojo breaking off this arrangement, of what the ton would think today if he were to be avoiding you like the plague.

He flinched at the sound of his name on your lips, spoken with such venom. A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he made no move to respond, simply watched as you gathered your thoughts, your gaze piercing.

"All this time," you said, each word sharper than the last, "I was led to believe there was something more to your attentions. And now, you simply wash your hands of it? You think yourself a gentleman for doing so?"

"Miss Itadori," he said, his voice strained. "I am—"

"You are a coward," you spat, and his eyes widened, the faintest hint of pain flashing in their depths. "Yes, that’s right. A coward, for trying to protect yourself under the guise of protecting me. All this talk of 'relieving me'—do not act as if your decision was made out of kindness." (a/n: OH NO SHE DIDNTTTTT)

"Do you not understand?" he interjected, a sudden fierceness in his voice, his composure beginning to slip. "This is not some petty whim, nor a game. My intentions… they were never meant to bring you harm, but they did. And I cannot bear to see it continue."

"Bear to see it continue?" you repeated incredulously. "Do you think I am some doll, some trifle to discard at your convenience?"

"That was never my intent!" he exclaimed, voice rising in frustration. "If you would but see reason—"

"Reason? From you?" you laughed bitterly, barely able to contain the fury welling up inside you. "Your idea of reason is nothing more than self-preservation, Lord Gojo. How convenient it must be to absolve yourself of guilt by deciding I am better off without you."

He fell silent, the anger in his face ebbing, replaced by a kind of desperation. "You do not understand," he said, quieter, almost pleading. "If I were to stay… if I were to court you in earnest, it would not be the life you think it to be."

"Then let that be my choice to make," you shot back, crossing your arms. "But no—this is not about my well-being, not truly. It is about you, Gojo. It has always been about you."

A tense silence stretched between you, filled only by the soft, uneven breaths that escaped both of you. For a moment, neither dared to speak, both caught in the tangled emotions that hung thick in the air.

Finally, Gojo looked down, his eyes shuttered, his voice weary. "Then hate me, if you must. But I am done with this charade."

"Hate you?" you repeated, the word tasting strange on your tongue. "No, Lord Gojo. Hatred would imply I care enough to feel anything toward you."

Your entire body seethed with fury, every muscle trembling with the strain of keeping yourself upright, sitting on your bed. You couldn't storm out—not with your wounded leg refusing to bear even a fraction of the anger swelling within you. Instead, you pushed yourself up on shaking arms, glaring at him with such venom that he instinctively stepped back.

"Get out," you spat, the words laced with ice, your voice rising as if to fill the entire room. "Out! Now, Gojo—leave me this instant!"

He froze, his shoulders tense as he looked at you with something unreadable, but he made no move toward the door.

"I said leave!" you shrieked—your voice shrill—the strain of it making you nearly lose balance, but you didn't care. Hot tears stung your eyes, and you bit them back, forcing yourself to breathe through the betrayal clawing at your chest. "Take your false apologies, your noble pretensions, and get out of my sight. Go, and never, ever darken my door again."

His mouth opened, as if he might say something—perhaps even something that might soothe the jagged edges of your heart. But your furious gaze dared him to try.

With a pained expression, he finally gave a nod, stepping back toward the door. He lingered for a moment, one last helpless look crossing his face before he turned away, leaving without another word.

The door clicked shut, and you were left alone, shaking with fury, your breath ragged. Your eyes were still on that door, your heart racing, as though expecting him to come back, to take it all back, to be the man you'd witnessed yesterday. But deep down, you knew he would not return.

The first glimmers of morning filtered through the heavy drapes as you stirred awake, still dazed from the events that had left you bedridden. The memories of Gojo’s departure settled heavily on your chest, like a stone dropped in a lake, rippling outward and disturbing any possibility of calm. Your mind drifted over the previous night’s argument, replaying words, and then, with a cringe, the heated moments where you felt every last ounce of self-restraint slip from your grasp.

A small part of you reasoned that you may have been rash—that your anger and hurt had overtaken good sense. After all, it was you who deemed your and Gojo’s match impossible. So why were you so hurt?

Before you could linger on these thoughts, there was a soft knock at your door.

"Come in," you murmured, propping yourself up gingerly.

What followed soft footsteps was Choso, his gaze warm and steady as he entered, carrying the ease of familiarity that only he could. As he approached, he pulled a chair beside your bed and gave a faint smile.

Choso stepped in quietly, his face softened by a rare smile as he approached. “Awake at last,” he said gently, taking a seat beside you with the care one might afford a delicate flower. "I was beginning to think you'd sleep through the entire house party."

He reached out, his hand resting on the crown of your head, fingers slipping through your hair in a soothing rhythm. The fondness in his touch eased the last of the stiffness in your frame, a balm against the soreness both physical and emotional.

“You worry too much,” you muttered, allowing yourself to lean into the comfort he offered, your voice softening as his hand continued to gently scratch at your scalp.

“You look better today,” he said softly, continuing his familiar, soothing rhythm with his fingers. “Though, I’ll admit, you gave us all quite a scare.”

You managed a small smile, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease slightly under his touch. “I suppose I was overdue for a bit of excitement,” you murmured, though the attempt at levity felt thin, even to your own ears.

Choso’s hand stilled momentarily, and his gaze grew searching as he looked at you. “What truly happened yesterday?” he asked, his voice low with concern. “There’s more here than an unfortunate fall, isn’t there?”

You stiffened slightly, glancing away from him. “It was nothing,” you replied, willing your tone to sound convincing. “Just… an ill-timed accident. Nothing to concern yourself with.”

But Choso was not so easily deterred. He watched you closely, his brow furrowing with worry. “You’ve always been a poor liar, sister,” he murmured. “If something happened, you know you can tell me. I only want to understand.”

The quiet earnestness in his tone gnawed at you, and for a moment, you considered confiding in him. But the idea of revisiting last night’s turmoil felt too raw, too immediate. “I’m fine, truly,” you insisted, meeting his gaze with as much steadiness as you could muster. “It was… nothing that can’t be mended with rest.”

Choso’s gaze lingered on you, his fingers resuming their gentle tracing along your scalp as if that alone could soothe whatever burden you were carrying. “Well,” he finally said, his tone filled with fond exasperation, “I won’t press you. But I trust you’ll speak of it when you feel you are ready.”

You gave a slight nod, grateful for his restraint. The quiet between you was comforting, grounding, as he continued his rhythmic motions, easing your thoughts in a way that words could not.

After a long moment, he broke the silence again, his tone lighter this time. “On a more cheerful note,” he began, a faint smile playing on his lips, “you’ll have another visitor tomorrow.”

“Oh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, though a part of you already guessed who he meant.

“Yes,” he confirmed, a knowing glint in his eye. “Sukuna received word of your injury and set off at once. He’ll be here by morning.”

You let out a small breath, a mixture of relief and trepidation filling you. “Tomorrow, then,” you repeated, feeling a hint of warmth at the thought. “It seems my brothers cannot resist making a fuss.”

Choso chuckled, squeezing your hand gently. “It’s what we’re here for. And perhaps Sukuna’s presence will help you feel a bit more at ease during the house party. He’ll see to it that no one bothers you unduly.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, the thought of Sukuna’s reassuring, if overbearing, presence lifting your spirits slightly. “Well, at least there’s that to look forward to,” you murmured, and, with a soft sigh, leaned back against your pillows, letting Choso’s calming presence ease the lingering shadows of last night’s ordeal, even if temporary.

For you had a beast of a social gathering to deal with today, the same one where the ton would descend upon the outcome of your match, ready to laugh at you: the house party.

“He what?”

You flinched, scowling as you clutched your ears. Nobara’s shrill voice was not helping your recovery, nor were her rough combs through your hair; but alas, beauty has a price, and it’s one you’re reluctantly willing to pay. You oh-so terribly wanted to politely decline the formal invitation, but it seemed that the moment you woke, your mother was dead set on getting you ready for what she thought was your engagement party. Little did she know that her not so future in law had gotten rid of you as if you were a stray animal latched onto him, but who were you to burst her bubble?

Perhaps you ought to dread the inevitable fallout from your mother when the truth emerged, but you consoled yourself with the thought of drowning your sorrows in champagne tonight, delaying her wrath for at least a little while. Besides, the prospect of Sukuna’s impending arrival tomorrow brought you some comfort; his unruly nature often served as a distraction from your own troubles.

You sighed heavily, meeting Nobara’s furious gaze in the mirror. “He merely said he wished to absolve me of any trouble he had caused.”

“Good riddance!” Nobara shrieked, her hand furiously waving around the hair brush in a way that made you wary, for it would not be pleasant for it to make contact with your already tender head. “He was never the one for you to pursue, for he lacks the honor of a true gentleman! And yet—oh, heavens!” She gestured at you accusingly with the brush, her tone turning sharp. “Why, pray, do you appear so disheartened?”

You open your mouth immediately, indignant and expecting your wit, your usual ally, to conjure a response for you, only to be left open-mouthed when it came up short. Nobara seemed to sense your hesitance, opening her mouth to unleash yet another accusatory and reprimanding remark, but you quickly moved to fill your silence. “I suppose I am just…offended that he dare reject me, the diamond. The ton will seize upon this dissolution with glee. They shall revel in my supposed failure, for it will be indicative of my failure to the Queen.”

Nobara arched a brow, her skeptical silence speaking volumes. She clearly wasn’t convinced, and before she could level another charge against you, a knock sounded at the door.

“Sister, are you decent?”

“Enter, Choso,” you called out, hastily adjusting the neckline of your pale pink gown and straightening the strand of pearls around your neck.

Nobara opened the door, though she made no attempt to soften her posture. The hairbrush remained firmly in her grasp, poised like a weapon, and Choso cast it a wary glance as he stepped inside. His presence brought a sense of calm, even as his expression betrayed some inner turmoil. He hesitated for a moment before moving to sit at the edge of your vanity, his gaze flickering between you and Nobara.

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious of his silence. “Well, brother? Out with it,” you urged, though your voice lacked its usual sharpness.

He sighed, clearly reluctant. “Very well,” he began. “Pray, hear me out. You know I have never hidden my disapproval of Lord Gojo.” At the sound of that name, you flinched, though you quickly masked it with a curt nod. Choso continued nonetheless, his tone steady but earnest. “In light of recent events, I have taken it upon myself to form…a contingency plan of sorts.”

Your curiosity was piqued, though Nobara snapped at you to sit still as she continued combing through your hair. “Go on,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Choso leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering as though to ensure Nobara wouldn’t interrupt. “I have had the pleasure of conversing at length with Duke Nanami.”

You arched a brow, intrigued despite yourself. “The Duke Nanami?”

“Yes,” Choso confirmed. “He is an esteemed gentleman of considerable character, and, as fortune would have it, he is not currently pursuing anyone this season.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. Choso’s intent was clear, and the weight of his proposition settled over you like an unexpected storm. Nobara, meanwhile, had stilled entirely, her hairbrush forgotten in her hand as she turned to gawk at your brother.

“Is this,” she began, her voice disbelieving, “your solution to Gojo’s appalling behavior? To thrust her into the path of another?”

Choso shrugged, unbothered by her skepticism. “A better match by far, I would argue. The Duke has no such inclinations to trifling or dishonor.”

You sighed, leaning back as the tension in the room thickened. “And what makes you so certain the Duke would even entertain such an arrangement?” you asked, your voice tinged with a weariness you hadn’t intended to show.

Choso gave you a small smile, his hand reaching out to pat your shoulder. “Leave that to me, dear sister. For now, focus on enduring tonight’s ordeal. Tomorrow, you may take comfort in Sukuna’s arrival—and in the knowledge that your prospects are not as grim as they seem.”

You exhaled, unsure whether to feel gratitude or exasperation, as Choso rose from his seat. Whatever plans he had in motion, they would unfold in time. For now, you could only prepare yourself for the chaos that awaited.

Gojo had outdone himself. Truly, magnificently outdone himself.

From the moment you entered the house, your hand resting lightly on Choso’s arm, the stares began. They weren’t the polite glances reserved for new arrivals at such gatherings—these were sharp, lingering, and accompanied by a cacophony of whispers that only heightened your unease.

You straightened your back, chin held high, determined not to give any of them the satisfaction of seeing your discomfort. But it was impossible to ignore the way every eye seemed to follow you, every head turned to observe as you passed. Whatever it was that had stirred this interest, you were certain Gojo was at the heart of it.

Feeling the oppressive smog of stares, you knew where you could find solace: the drinks table, where you could down a flute of champagne alongside your stress. And right as you excuse yourself from Choso’s hold, who is now looking in the general direction of some men—particularly a gaggle of men that included Lord Geto and Duke Nanami, who were looking at something in the direction of the dance floor with interest. As you walk, you take in the scene: a beautiful chandelier, and red drapings and coverings embellished with gold, a bloody alternative to the Gojo icy blue. You’re not sure why today’s ensemble of colors didn’t include blue, but you believe it is fitting for what’s going to happen to you after this party is over and your mother finds out about the elephant in the room.

And as you glance longingly at the couples gliding across the floor, their movements synchronized with the lilting strains of the orchestra, your breath catches.

It is then that you see him.

Gojo Satoru is spinning a girl across the dance floor, his coat tails trailing like ribbons in the air. His lips move as he speaks, the tilt of his head paired with that too-familiar smirk. His partner laughs at something he’s said, a soft sound that reaches you even from this distance. You could almost identify her—there is no debutante in the ton you have not cataloged, no rival whose dossier you do not possess—but tonight, it does not matter. She is just a blur of chiffon and curls, another face in a sea of women enthralled by him.

Your chest tightens as you take in the scene, a memory unspooling unbidden.

Is this what your first dance with Gojo had looked like to others? Did you appear as enraptured as this girl, your steps as confident and sure beneath his lead? You remember his light touch at your back, his questions whispered so quietly you doubted even the orchestra could eavesdrop, his eyes full of a charm so practiced it felt like a spell cast just for you.

And yet now, the spell is broken.

He is steering her—steering everything—with such ease that it almost makes you laugh. Were he not so infuriating, you might have admired his grace, the way he seamlessly dominates both the conversation and the dance. His amusement is evident in the quirk of his brow, the corners of his mouth curling with every word she utters, no doubt answering his questions with meek enthusiasm.

She is simple. You can tell from the way he looks at her, the way he pauses before replying as if translating his own thoughts into something digestible for her. The way she beams at him—unaware of how deeply he calculates every move—is almost endearing. Almost.

He is drawing the same conclusions he did of you. Simple, lacking substance.

The thought leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

But then the girl laughs again, a little too loud, and Gojo’s expression flickers for just a second—long enough for you to notice. His smile tightens, his gaze sliding briefly across the room as though searching for something more stimulating. It is instinctual, this glance, and his head tilts in such a way that you know it will land on you if you linger a moment longer.

Your heart stutters in protest, your legs already moving.

Punch table. Right.

As you near it, you grab the closest drink and down it one sip, desperate for the cool of the liquid to calm both your throat and your heated mind, furious with thoughts and anxiety of those around you. And it was just as you begin to set down the cool glass that in your periphery comes the man who soon tests your resolve.

“Miss Itadori,” a voice drawled behind you, the unmistakable lilt of smugness weaving through it.

You turned, and there stood Naoya Zen’in, his grin as unctuous as ever. He bowed slightly, though the gesture felt more like mockery than courtesy. “I must say, you are positively radiant tonight.”

You inclined your head ever so slightly, each movement deliberate. “Mr. Zen’in. How kind of you to say.”

He grinned, and the sight was unsettling, a serpent preparing to strike. “Radiant, yes. A pity Lord Gojo has finally come to his senses and moved on. I thought the two of you might actually prove interesting.”

Your stomach churned, but you kept your expression serene. “I fail to see how my affairs are of interest to you, Mr. Zen’in.”

“Oh, but they are,” he said, stepping closer, his voice lowering as though he were sharing a confidant’s secret. “Everyone is watching, you know. Wondering why Lord Gojo is…otherwise occupied tonight.” He tilted his head, motioning discreetly toward the mantle, a few meters away, where Gojo stood, entertaining and welcoming another lady.

Your eyes betrayed you, flicking briefly in that direction. Gojo’s figure remained in your periphery, still close enough to notice but far enough to be unattainable. You tore your gaze away, unwilling to feed Naoya’s glee.

Naoya leaned in, his tone growing more audacious. “Quite the spectacle, wouldn’t you agree? Though perhaps it’s for the best. You have much to offer, Miss Itadori—breeding hips, for one.”

The words hit you like a slap, your mind reeling in fury and disbelief. Your breath hitched, but before you could muster a scathing retort, something else caught your attention.

Gojo’s hand, resting casually against the column, tightened into a fist. The movement was subtle, but unmistakable—a barely contained tension that you might have missed if you weren’t already attuned to his every breath, his every twitch.

Still, you refused to look directly at him. Whatever he felt, it mattered not.

“Mr. Zen’in,” you began, voice icy and measured, though the rage burned beneath the surface, “your comments are as inappropriate as they are unwelcome. I suggest—”

“Sister.”

Choso’s voice interrupted like a lifeline thrown to a drowning sailor. You turned to see your older brother approaching, his expression calm but his eyes sharp as they darted between you and Naoya. He came to your side, his imposing presence creating an impenetrable wall between you and the unwelcome intruder.

“Mr. Zen’in,” Choso greeted with a curt nod, his tone laced with a warning. “I trust you’ll excuse my sister. She and I were just about to take a turn about the room.”

Naoya’s grin faltered, but he recovered quickly, stepping back with a mocking bow. “Of course. Do enjoy your evening.”

Choso wasted no time, offering his arm to you. You took it gratefully, your legs unsteady as he guided you away from the scene and toward a quieter corner of the ballroom.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, his voice gentle but firm, as though bracing himself for a truth he might not like.

You nodded, though the words escaped you. Your hands trembled slightly, and Choso placed his over yours, steadying you. “I saw the way you looked,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “At Lord Gojo.”

Your breath caught, but you said nothing, focusing instead on the steady rhythm of your brother’s steps.

“Whatever he’s done—or hasn’t done—you are worth far more than his regard,” Choso continued, his tone resolute. “Do not forget that.” A pause. “Are you all right, Sister?”

“I am fine,” you lied, though your trembling hands betrayed you.

The evening only worsened from there.

More and more, you felt the weight of curious glances, the whispers growing louder as the night wore on. The absence of Gojo’s attention did not go unnoticed—least of all by your mother, who approached you and Choso with a determined expression, her fan snapping shut with a sharp flick of her wrist.

The warmth of the ballroom’s lights could not thaw the ice that slipped down your spine as your mother approached. Her movements were poised as ever, but the tightness in her lips and the fury barely hidden in her eyes told you everything. She stopped just short of you, her fan snapping shut with a sharp click that made you flinch.

“Explain,” she hissed, her voice low enough to avoid drawing the attention of onlookers but sharp enough to carve into you.

Your breath caught in your throat. You glanced towards Choso for reinforcement, but his furrowed brow and subtle shake of his head told you he would not intervene—not yet.

“I… don’t understand, Mother,” you murmured, though the words tasted hollow even as you said them.

“Do not toy with me, child,” she snapped, her tone still hushed but more cutting. “The entire room is whispering. Where is Lord Gojo? Why has he not so much as glanced in your direction tonight? Why is he—” Her eyes darted to the waltz floor, where Gojo had just excused himself from yet another partner. “Why is he dancing with others while you stand here like a forgotten debutante?”

The words hit like a slap, and you flinched again, your gaze falling to your gloved hands. You wanted to speak, to explain, but the lump in your throat grew larger with every second.

Her voice softened but grew no less fierce. “What have you done?”

Your chest tightened, and for a fleeting moment, you considered telling her everything—about the garden, about Gojo’s words, about how utterly humiliated you had felt. But then the heat of the ballroom pressed down on you, the glances from curious onlookers prickling your skin like needles.

You couldn’t. Not here.

So, you said nothing.

The silence between you stretched thin, your mother’s patience fraying with every passing moment. Finally, she straightened, her lips pressed into a pale line. “This is how you repay all that has been done for you?” she whispered, her voice trembling with restrained fury. “Do you even comprehend what this will do to your prospects? To this family? You have disgraced yourself, and worse—you have disgraced me.”

Her words left you hollow, the guilt settling into the spaces where indignation might have taken root. Still, you could not look up, nor could you summon any defense.

Your mother’s fan snapped open again with a sharp flick, the motion more violent than graceful. “We are leaving,” she declared, turning abruptly on her heel. “Now.”

Choso stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against your elbow as if to steady you. You dared a glance at him, finding his gaze steady and quietly supportive. It was only his presence that kept your legs moving as you followed your mother toward the grand doors.

The weight of the room’s collective gaze bore down on you with every step. The music swelled in the background, mocking you with its cheerfulness. As you neared the exit, your feet faltered.

And then you saw him.

Gojo.

He stood near the edge of the dance floor, his posture uncharacteristically tense, his jaw clenched tightly, his usual easy confidence dimmed. His head tilted slightly, his eyes cutting through the crowd to meet yours.

Your breath hitched. In his gaze, you saw regret—yearning, even—and something else you couldn’t quite name.

But it didn’t matter.

You tore your eyes away, your jaw tightening as a steely resolve settled over you.

You would not break.

Not here. Not now. Not for him.

As you stepped into the cool night air, you drew in a deep breath, willing the ache in your chest to dissipate. Gojo Satoru had taken enough from you. Your heart, your dignity—no more.

If he thought you would crumble, he was mistaken.

He would regret this, you vowed silently.

And you would make certain of it.

The morning that came in a few days was no less disheartening than the night of the house party. The morning sun filtered weakly through the gauzy curtains of the drawing room, casting pale, lackluster patterns on the carpet. Even the sunlight seemed hesitant, as if it knew it had no place in the solemn atmosphere that hung over your family.

Even Yuji was solemn as you all sipped on your tea, the drawing room oddly quiet as you reflected in the aftermath of the past few days. The events of the house party still loomed over you. Your family’s hasty departure had been punctuated by the sight of your mother in whispered conversation with Duchess Gojo, their faces tight with the bitterness of dashed expectations. You had no doubt they had commiserated over your perceived recklessness and Gojo’s insolence, lamenting how the perfect match they had orchestrated had unraveled before their very eyes.

You had borne it all in silence.

But now, in the cold light of morning, your resolve felt brittle.

Your hands tightened around your teacup as you stared into the amber liquid, your reflection rippling with each shallow breath you took. Independence? That word felt hollow. You had fought for it, yes, but at what cost? The ton’s whispers had already begun. You could feel their weight pressing on you, suffocating in their judgment. The laughter and speculation at your expense would echo through parlors and ballrooms for weeks, if not months.

And yet, deep down, there was a spark of defiance. They thought this was your undoing. They thought you would crumble. But they had no idea.

"Why does it feel like we’re mourning?" Yuji muttered, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, but the sarcasm was unmistakable. "It’s not as though anyone has died."

Your mother’s sigh this time was louder, sharper, and followed by a pointed glance in his direction. “Yuji, do not jest,” she snapped. "This is no laughing matter."

Choso, who had been reclining with one arm draped lazily over the armrest of his chair, sat up straighter. “Mother,” he said cautiously, his voice soft but steady, “I think it’s time we address what’s truly troubling you.”

Her handkerchief stilled in her lap. For a moment, the room was silent again, the tension thick enough to choke on.

“Troubling me?” she repeated, her tone icy. “You think I am troubled, Choso?”

“Everyone is troubled,” Choso replied, his gaze flicking briefly to you. "But perhaps if you said what’s on your mind, we could all breathe a little easier."

Your mother’s lips thinned as she sat up straighter, her shoulders stiff. “Very well,” she said sharply, “if you must know, I am ashamed.”

The word hit you like a slap, even though you had expected it. You gritted your teeth, staring down at your tea to hide the flush of anger and embarrassment creeping up your neck.

“Ashamed of what?” you asked quietly, your voice tighter than you intended.

“Of you,” she replied without hesitation. “Of the scandal you have brought upon this family. Do you think your actions have no consequences? Do you think the ton will simply overlook your…” She hesitated, clearly searching for the most cutting word. “Your antics with Lord Gojo?”

You felt Choso stiffen beside you, his protective instincts clearly flaring, but you held up a hand to stop him. You wouldn’t hide behind your brothers—not this time.

“I have done nothing wrong,” you said, your voice low but firm. “Gojo and I made a mutual decision that we were incompatible. We—”

“You humiliated yourself!” she interrupted, her voice rising. “And by extension, this family. Do you think people are speaking of him? No! It is you they ridicule. It is your name they sully.”

Your chest burned with anger and hurt, but before you could retort, Yuji shifted uncomfortably, muttering, “This is getting out of hand…”

“You think I care about their opinions?” you snapped, finally lifting your gaze to meet your mother’s. “The ton has always been cruel. They would find a reason to gossip no matter what I did. I refuse to live my life pandering to their expectations—”

“And look where that refusal has left you,” your mother interrupted, her voice shaking with fury. “Unmarried. Ruined. Who will have you now?”

You flinched, the words cutting deeper than you thought possible. Your lips parted, but no words came out. What could you possibly say to that?

The silence that followed was deafening.

Until a voice, smooth and amused, broke it.

“Now, now, Mother. I know you’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, but let us not turn your theatrics onto our dearest sister.”

All heads turned toward the entrance, where a figure lounged against the doorway, his presence commanding without even trying. There he stood—Sukuna, your brother, looking entirely too pleased with himself for someone who had kept you waiting for days. Both you and Yuji involuntarily gasped in excitement, while Choso only shook his head in amusement and crossed his arms.

He strode into the room with an air of nonchalance, his tailored attire immaculate, his smile one of mocking amusement. His gaze flicked to your mother, then to you, lingering for a moment as if to appraise the damage left in her wake.

“Good morning,” he said smoothly, the corners of his mouth curling. “I trust I’ve arrived in time to save you from a most tiresome sermon.”

Your mother bristled, but her voice faltered, her ire now redirected. “Sukuna, this is hardly the time for your irreverence—”

“And yet here I am,” he interrupted, dropping into a chair with the kind of ease that only Sukuna could muster. He leaned back, his sharp gaze softening just slightly as it fell on you. “I thought you might appreciate a reprieve. You seem to have had enough lectures for a lifetime.”

You could feel tears welling in your eyes. You had severely underestimated how much you missed your elder brother, seeing his presence stir a fondness and comfort you hadn’t felt ever since he left for Europe. And it seemed that your brothers shared your sentiment; Yuji was basically on his haunches, doing everything he could not to leave his chair to tackle Sukuna, and Choso barely holding in an amused smile.

“Still causing chaos wherever you go, I see,” Choso said dryly, though there was no malice in his tone.

Sukuna smirked. “Someone has to keep things interesting.”

Your mother huffed, her lips pressing into a thin line as she rose from her seat. “I refuse to be made a fool in my own home. Sukuna, do try not to corrupt your siblings further while I attend to matters of actual importance.” She swept out of the room with her usual imperious grace, leaving a silence in her wake.

As soon as she left, you left your chair to basically jumping on him, hugging him tightly as he reciprocated your hug with wrapping his big arms around yours with equal fervor. “Kuna,” you whispered, burying your face into his chest as the tears started flowing. His presence surrounded you, offering you a comfort and familiarity that the eventful weeks, ever since your debut, hadn’t offered

Sukuna looked down to you with a raised brow as he patted your head affectionately. “Well, that was entertaining. Now, who’s going to tell me what truly happened while I was gone?”

prev. the fall | next. soon!

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n hi everyone!!! so i lied and said the update wasn't gonna take as long #womaninmalefields BUT thank you for your patience <3

so uh....we are now gonna enter the arc with DRAMAA. there will be yearning, there will be angst, and soon after, there will be fluff. idk if anyone needs to hear this, but, again, this series will have a happy ending. if anyone is sad, don't worry. i'm going to make gojo grovel <3

SUKUNA IS BACK SUKUNA IS BACK what do we think?! spoiler alert this is what sukuna will wanna do to gojo after reader spills the tea

THANK U FOR READING!!! rest assured reader a BADDIE there will be some showing ankles and lowering bustlines to start our reputation era and infuriate gojo but u didnt hear that from me !!!

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots ;3

TAGLIST:

@ncitygreen @backstagepaige @serinatly100986 @nappingmoon @coochellati

@extremelyexh4usted @yoshisaurmuchakoopas @nixiepixee @generalstephkenobi @vernasce-blogs

@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs

@megumiivs @anthastudios @arranacosmist @arishaxml @jingyuun

@undercooked-chaos-noodle @jaegersity @camzzn @bluelai @1sweetheart1

@hyori2 @babyblue0t7 @iwanttoberich420 @rosso-seta @ladytamayolover

@kalulakunundrum @r0ckst4rjk @mo0sin @angelina7890 @jaeminaur

@yamiyas @cherry-blossoms-in-red @r3inae @lagataprrr @sasfransisco

@fortunatelyfurrygiver @aurora-tiny @gojonegs @luna-v-roiya @xxemmarldxx

@soobssedwithyourex @manyno @samkysnks @stefnarda @bbqsauceonmytitties2

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afterglowsainz · 7 months ago

Note

hi!💘could you do a lando x messi’s daughter smau , maybe the barcalona gp. but she’s besties with joao felix so she reluctant to speak to him because of the rumors of lando and magui(felix’s ex). sorry if it’s confusing🎀

barcelona | lando norris

summary: lando takes an interest in a special guest from the barcelona gp paddock but she has no interest in him

fc: steph bohrer

warning: lando is a simp in this, we love to see it!

a/n: this was perfect timing cause i’ve been wanting to write more about lando <333 also not a lot of messi content just cause i didn’t knew how to include everything and still make this short and sweet but i hope you enjoy it!

—

liked by bffusername, carlossainz55 and others

ynmessi race weekend with bestie #1 and new bestie #2 🏎

tagged joaofelix79 and carlossainz55

view all comments

username omg i didn’t knew you liked f1!!

username yn in a gp is everything i didn’t knew i needed

username okay yn i see you being a tifosi

ynmessi FORZA FERRARI SEMPRE ❤️❤️❤️

username so real girlie

username my two boyfriends with my girlfriend this is such a special day💞

joaofelix79 send me that pic i look good 😏

ynmessi don’t cringe me out joão

username yn in the ferrari garage makes sooo much sense

username right??? like i don’t know how to explain it but ferrari girls are also barcelona girls

bffusername never thought i see the day you’d be friends with a madridista🤨

ynmessi im letting that slide for now everyone has their flaws

carlossainz55 you’re the one with an issue if you’re supporting *that* club

ynmessi KEEP MY CLUB’S NAME OUT OF YOUR MOUTH

liked by landonorris, pablogavi and others

ynmessi life in barcelona💫

tagged joaofelix79, pedri and leomessi

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username girl 😮‍💨😮‍💨

bffusername ughhh why don’t we just kiss

ynmessi well if you insist ☺️

username never beating the biggest culer allegations

username awww the picture of messi and her brothers so cute 🥰

username well girl DAMN

leomessi te quiero hija❤️ (i love you daughter)

ynmessi te quiero mil💘 (i love you a thousand)

username you’re UNREAL

carlossainz55 is that… a red bull cap… ???

ynmessi nooo it was pedri i swear!! forza ferrari❤️❤️

landonorris 🤠

liked by ynmessi, carlossainz55 and others

landonorris quick pit stop

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username sir aren’t you supposed to be in england in two days???

username now what the hell is he doing in barcelona

joaofelix79 👀

username VISCA EL BARÇA💙❤️

username lando culer confirmed

carlossainz55 is this your idea of a first date?

landonorris and she loved it sooo

ynmessi does this mean i turned you into a culer already? 🥰

carlossainz55 watch it

username LANDO AND Y/N WHAT

username well that definitely took a turn

liked by landonorris, joaofelix79 and others

ynmessi back at it again in monzaaa🍝

view all comments

username oh yeah they’re definitely dating

username bestie what happened i thought we were tifosi

ynmessi still are! just with a bit more papaya now

username is this their dating confirmation orrrr

username my favorite wag fr

carlossainz55 i feel personally betrayed that you’re in mclaren’s garage at ferrrari’s home race 😐

landonorris cry me a river

mclaren beautiful in papaya🧡 (liked by ynmessi)

username yn back in the paddock WE WON

username praying that yn at the paddock becomes a regular thing🙇🏽‍♀️

landonorris my love you’re so beautiful😍

ynmessi 🥰🥰🥰

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xazse · 6 months ago

Note

Imagine sugar baby! Dombot AFAB toji x Sugar daddy Subtop m reader?? Like omg.

And instead of us being the older one it's toji 😭😭 reversed asf, like we do anything toji asks us to do because we actually secretly love him and toji thinks you're just after his pussy because of how much Reader seems to be flustered around him too much all the time, but he didn't even know m reader is HUNG ASF and doesn't have sex too much so he's not really used to fucking, but w toji? My god there's no rest. Toji would be ridin and milkin that dick and his own pussy till dawn OF THE NEXT DAY.

And reader? Oh he'd let him do anything, mf he's too pussy hungry for this too, like he'd do anything toji asks as long as he gets a taste of that pussy 😭😭

A Taste

Pairings: SugarBaby!DombotAfab!Toji x SugarDaddy!Subtop!M!reader

Warnings: Creampie + Afab!Toji + Male!reader + overstimulation + not!proofread + nasty smut + begging + lots of fluids + eating out

Notes: HIII OMG I LOVED UR PROMT SO GOOD AND YUMMY I HOPE THIS IS TO UR LIKING <333 + I may have gotten the sugar daddy part wrong

Toji thinks of you as a little puppy, a very forgiving one too. You practically follow him everywhere not that he minds, you give him money and even a place to stay he can’t complain. Though there are some downsides, everytime Toji offers to pay you back for what you’ve done you’re so quick to shoot it down and tell him to keep his money? Who does that?

He isn’t one to beg you to take it so he pockets it for later. And again when Toji asks if you want to settle down and watch a good movie with him you do say yes. The entire time he notices how you’ll glance in his direction every so often, at his face and even at his chest. This all has to connect to something, you not taking money from him, not wanting anything material wise so what exactly do you want?

He starts to put the puzzles together and comes to the answer that you most likely want sex from him, it all starts to make sense. Toji has had his fair share of sexual encounters but only by older perverted men, never someone as young as you are. What if he’s wrong though? What if he just ends up embarrassing himself and making you uncomfortable? He can’t have that who else is gonna buy him all the sweats and tight shirts he keeps handy? Not those old selfish fucks.

Toji starts slow as to not scare or send you into overdrive, you are a quiet man who keeps to himself but you do have nervous habits he’s picked up on. He also knows you aren’t that sexually active: he’s asked before if you’d want to hit up a club and maybe get a lay tonight but you politely declined and kept away with tapping at your laptop.

The subtle touches start, he’s gracing his fingertips along your back as he passes by you, touching your hand when he hands you something, Toji had even gone a giant step and asked you one day if you wanted a bite of this new snack he’d bought, you accepted but instead of him handing you it, he held it out and fed it to you, the whole time you were staring right into his eyes with a burning flame: oh?

Toji stares at you relaxed, laying down on the couch staring at the tv. You’re faced with your body upwards and your head turned: he decides this is the final moment in his plan. When he places his ass right on top of your cock you’re quick to startle thinking he’s made some type of mistake, a laugh leaves his lips, people don’t usually just sit ontop of someone for no reason? Toji wants you and very badly at that, he wants to repay you for all your kindness and respect.

Flustered and confused you quickly tell him that it’s okay and he doesn’t need to resort to such methods, it falls deaf on ears as he starts grinding against your cock, it’s not long before you’re fully hard dick is pressing against his pussy. Embarrassed that’s exactly what you feel, getting hard so quickly is pathetic.

Toji is ultimately flattered, a handsome man such as yourself getting hard for someone so much older makes his cunt throb. He pulls your pants along with your underwear: freeing your cock. The grin is wiped off his face when he sees just how fucking big you are, you’re thick and long, that’s a deadly fucking combo, he almost wants to back out.

You see his expression and concern fills your own face, is something wrong with you? Are you not to his liking? All sorts of bad things start to fill your head. Toji starts stripping himself of his own bottoms to reveal his dripping pussy, he rests it against your cock, all your worries disappear when all you can do is stare at the size difference between your parts. That’s why.

Your bare cock rests inbetween his lips, his clit is throbbing for some type of stimulation and your cock is begging for the same. You grab his hips boldly and start moving him, his sloppy cunt wets you with every long drag of his body. You both groan lowly. Toji hasn’t had foreplay with those other men, nor have they paid his clit any attention: but you make sure to give it plenty of attention, every so often you’ll use your fingers and rub the wet button, even dipping your fingers to taste him.

Toji has had enough of the foreplay and wants you inside him badly, he lifts his hips and you get the memo to line up your weeping tip with his greedy hole, it feels like he’s sucking you in when he slides down, Toji has to stop for a few to really adjust to you, it’s both frustrating and making him extra horny. When he finally bottoms out he feels so fucking full and he has to really focus on his breathing. Never has his pussy been stretched like this, he fills something warm inside of him and he stares directly at you.

You can’t even look at his face, hiding behind your arms lifted over your head, you really came inside of him and so fucking early, your cum starts to leak a little bit out of him further embarrassing and degrading you, but fuck did it feel so good, he feels good. Toji thinks you’ll go soft but you haven’t, not even a little. Trying to redeem yourself you begin moving his very slowly up and down.

Toji bites his lips as he lets you guide him through the process, you’re looking at him again: with such a warm love stricken face.

Oh god Toji can’t think, your cock is hitting his sweet spot directly over and over, damn the advantages to having a huge dick. He’s on his own as he bounces up and down again and again. You’re doing your part perfectly: meeting him halfway, pounding in him. He’s whining, the Toji fushiguro is whining for more of your cock.

Where you meet is obscenely gross and soaked with your juices mixed together, it’s sticky and sticks to Toji’s pussy everytime he moves up. He’s never produced and came this much from one single session. He doesn’t regret the weeks leading up to this at all, all he can think about is you pushing him over the edge and doing it all over again.

He begins to tire a little and you take over fully, lightly pushing him off of you, the wet sound of your cock slipping out of his pussy sounds so delicious, he thinks you’re going to stop and leave him wanting more but you don’t: you place your hands underneath his knees and push them towards his chest, it hurts, he isn’t flexible but he isn’t going to disobey when you want to give him more.

You push him into a mating press, and slide right back in. This position is more compromising and you get a full view of his face below you, dried tears and drool is present, his eyes are a little red from the overstimulation but he isn’t telling you to stop. You start fucking into him when you get your fill of his face, cock rubbing against his sensitive walls still has him clenching extremely tight around you, a few more strokes and he’s cumming around you with a lewd girly moan.

You do follow after but you just don’t stop, you might not ever get an opportunity like this so you’ll take full advantage of it, even if it comes at the cost of you being selfish.

It’s a wet sloppy mess by the end of it, you think it’s the end because Toji looks so fucked out, but your cock is still hard and throbbing, wanting to fuck him even more. You ask practically beg him for one more and then you’ll be done, he nods lightly allowing you to slip your soaked cock back into his warm embrace.

When toji finally tells you in a meek voice that he’s finished you’re distraught, you want more of him so much more, but when toji gives you the privilege of “cleaning him up” you fucking leap at the opportunity, using your tongue you slide back and forth inbetween his messy folds, lapping up all his cum and your cum. You sneakily even suck on his clit sometimes.

#zsworks #jjk x reader #dom male reader #male reader #toji x male reader #toji fushigro x reader #bottom toji #afab toji #afab toji x reader #Afab toji x Male reader #toji smut #toji x reader

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wintfleur · 9 months ago

Note

🌷 [ surprise ] with quinn!! maybe angst with happy ending ?

౨ৎ arguments on the dock and nosey brothers

°. — pairings ( Quinn Hughes x female! Reader )

°. — summary ( Jack can’t keep his mouth shut, causing an argument between his brother and his girlfriend )

°. — details ( g; angst, fluff. w; slight cursing, I think that’s all. wc; 1.5k )

﹕─┈ prompt ~ a sudden kiss to catch there partner off guard

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( TYSM FOR SENDING IN A REQ LOVEY !!! when I tell you that it PHYSICALLY hurt to write angst with Quinn . . . I’m telling you the truth. I absolutely loved writing this, and I really hope you guys enjoy it. I’m actually shocked that I wrote this in 3 hours. Please don’t be a silent reader, your thoughts always keep me motivated to keep writing <333 )

1k celly masterlist main masterlist nhl masterlist

You didn't wait to hear Quinn's answer as you walked out of the kitchen and out through the back door that led to the backyard and lake. You slipped your bare feet into what you assumed was Luke's slide Ons and quickly made your way down the steps and onto the dock. You let out a heavy side and brought your trembling hands up to your eyes, rubbing them as your mind tried to process the new news.

“Thanks’ a lot Jack” Quinn hissed at his younger brother who couldn't seem to keep his mouth shut, shaking his head in annoyance and leaving the kitchen to quickly follow after you. Both of the brothers flinch when they hear Quinn slam the back door. Jack’s shoulders sank and he turned to look at Luke who was already giving him a disappointing shake of the head. “How was I supposed to know he didn't tell her yet?”

“I don't know. Maybe the fact that Quinn told us to keep it to ourselves because he was still trying to figure things out?” Luke retorted sassily as he put his bowl in the sink before leaving the kitchen to go play some darts downstairs. Jack groans and rests his head on the cold island counter, he feels terrible. His heart had sunk when he saw the look of hurt on your face when he said those words. Jack whispers to himself “Good luck Quinn”

Quinn slowly made his way down the wooden steps that led to the dock, he could see you standing in the middle of the dock, your body stiff as you stared out at the water. Quinn knew you knew he was there, the sound of the wood creaking under his weight as he walked onto the dock . . . but you refused to take your eyes off the water.

“I know you're upset, and you have every right to be . . . but please just hear me out, '' Quinn spoke softly as he moved to rest his hand on your arm only to let out a sigh as you moved out of the way from his touch. You keep your eyes on the water, hoping that it would help calm you down as you whisper, “When did you find out?”

“Two weeks ago,” Quinn whispered regrettably, his eyes down at the water. You scoff bitterly and bring your hand up to wipe at your eyes, hoping that your tears of frustration wouldn't fall. You finally turn to face him, your arms folded over your chest. Quinn looks at you and he feels his heart sink at the look of hurt on your face and the tears in your eyes, but that was nowhere as painful as hearing the hurt in your voice as you spoke loudly.

“You're right, I do have every right to be upset. You found out two weeks ago, two weeks you have known that you wouldn't be with me for our anniversary . . . two weeks you have listened to me gush about planning our trip . . . our trip that you knew was never going to happen.”

“Why didn't you tell me Quinn? . . . i would have understood'' you whispered, and you would have. You know you would have but finding out he kept it a secret for so long hurt. You never wanted to get in the way of his career, his dream, knowing how important it was to him . . . but you were important too. A single tear slides down your cheek as Jack's words echo in your head.

“It's a great opportunity, it's just a shame he's going to miss your guy's big day” Jack says after he swallowed his last bite of the wonderful dinner you had made for your boyfriend and his brothers. You paused your movement on rinsing your dish and turned around to jack with a look of confusion “Big day?”

“Yeah, your guys' anniversary? He's gonna be gone for like two weeks” Jack shrugged, and your heart dropped at the new information. You turned your gaze to your boyfriend who was giving Jack a heated glare while Luke looked between the couple awkwardly. You looked into your boyfriend's eyes as you asked, “Is that true?”

“Baby i promise it's not like that i was ⸺” Quinn started as he tried to explain it to you, but you couldn't help but cut him off.

“What is it like huh? When were you going to tell me? ⸺ if you were ever going to tell me at all. Where you going to tell me the day before or where you going to let me wake up alone to find out myself that you were on the other side of the fucking country!” You shouted as you threw your hands in the air in anger. Both Luke and Jack wincing inside of the house as they look out the window to spy on the two of you.

“Don't be dramatic you know i would never do that to you” Quinn shook his head as he took a step towards you, his heart hurting that you would even think he would do that to you. But he knew you were just upset, that you really didn't mean your words and all he wanted to do was pull you into his arms.

“Well i used to also think we didn't keep secrets from each other, clearly i was wrong” you snapped as you fully turned to face away from him and moved to sit on one of the wooden chairs. You close your eyes and let out a heavy breath, resting your elbows on your knees and your face in your hands. You hated arguments with quinn, they rarely happened ⸺ but when they did it was emotionally draining.

Quinn frowns and moves to get on one knee in front of you, his hands softly rubbing your arms, knowing that it helps calm you down. “I would have told you quinn . . . i wouldn't have kept it a secret” you whispered sadly as you lifted your head out of your hands, locking eyes with quinn who looked at you with regret in his eyes. “I know baby i know you would and I'm so sorry.”

“I’m not going to tell you not to go, I know this is important for you and I won't hold you back . . . I'm just sorry you felt like you couldn't tell m⸺” you abruptly stop talking when you feel quinn holding your face and his lips on yours, interrupting you and catching you off guard. Your eyes fluttered close and you felt yourself melt into the kiss, pouring all of your emotion into the kiss.

Quinn reluctantly pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, his gently hold on your face not wavering as he whispered breathlessly “You are more important to me, you will always be more important to me . . . i didn't say anything because i wanted to make sure you could come with me.”

Your eyes fluttered open at his revelation and you lean back a little, Quinns hands falling to rest in your lap and taking your hands into his as he looks at you with nothing but love “I know it's not the anniversary you wanted . . . but we would be together, and Elias has been helping me plan it. I was going to tell you i swear, i was just waiting on the confirmation that we can stay in the honeymoon suite at the hotel we would be in.”

“Really?” You whispered as tears reformed in your eyes, this time not of frustration ⸺ but of a strong emotion of love and guilt. Quinn was quick to wipe your fallen tears, giving you a small smile as he whispered “Don't cry baby, I'm not upset it's okay.”

“The things i said i⸺”

“You didn't mean them, you were upset and hurt” Quinn cut you off as he caressed your cheeks before leaning forward to place a soft kiss on your nose, a smile forming on his lips at the adorable nose scrunch you do.

“I’m sorry” you sniffled as you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend's shoulders in a hug, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. Quinn chuckles and wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer. His knees were starting to hurt, but you were more important than the fleeting pain. Quinn kissed your forehead before saying “I’m sorry too.”

The couple both close their eyes, enjoying the feeling of being in each other's arms after the emotional rollercoaster they just were on. The only thing they could hear was each other's heartbeat and the sound of the water that was around them. It was perfect and peaceful until you heard Jack yelling from the porch “Since you guys are okay, does that mean you forgive me too?!”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him” Quinn groans as he hides his face in your neck, breathing in your scent to calm himself down. He was in fact annoyed with his brother, this wouldn't have happened, and he would have been able to tell you about the news in a much better way . . . technically jack’s the reason why you cried, and Quinn was sure to use that against him. You giggle and open your eyes, looking out at the water and the beautiful sunset “I’m sure it would be easy to convince Luke to help us.”

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( one forehead kiss from Quinn and everything wrong in my life would be healed . . . please Quinn one chance I beg 😻 )

°. — taglist ( @cixrosie @toasttt11 )

#﹕─┈ 𝜗 roro's 1k celly 𝜚 #୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ. 𝓵atest release of 𝓻oro’s 𝔀orks #quinn hughes #qh43 #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fic #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl hockey #nhl fanfiction #hughes brothers #jack hughes

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ddejavvu · 7 months ago

Note

Also… your post about ani loving back scratches omg.. you think he’s into like reader playing with his hair too?? His curls, and even when he had short hair like wow I just know that man has the softest hair ever

happy may the 4th! send me star wars requests/headcanons and we'll have a party <3

i pictured this as tcw!anakin's hair because it was like the cutest little baby mullet/shag where it was growing and curling against the nape of his neck and i wanted to scrunch it with my fingers so bad <333

"Keep going."

"Hold on, hold on," You mutter, "My friend's texting me."

Anakin releases a displeased grunt into the fabric of your shirt, and you feel it where it lands warm in your lap.

"Easy," You tap away at the screen of your datapad, pecking letter by letter at what is shaping up to be a lengthy paragraph, "I thought they taught patience at the temple, Jedi Knight. I'll go back to playing with your hair as soon as I'm done."

Anakin grunts again, louder this time.

You don't dignify his dramatics with a response, and you continue typing, the lingering warmth of Anakin's hair fading from your fingertips. He lets you get half of a sentence more in before you feel an invisible tug at your hand, and it relocates itself against Anakin's scalp instead of where you'd placed it on your pad.

"Anakin!" You scoff, "Did you just force my hand back into your hair?"

He lets out a muffled chuckle into your sleep shirt, "Force."

"You are absolutely insufferable," You grumble, but you indulge him with the scrape of your nails against his scalp. It sends a shiver down his spine, and he burrows his face further into your stomach.

"You sound like Obi-Wan," He muses, "I've heard insufferable, incorrigible, reckless, untamable, unmanageable-"

"Unshushable," You add, still making a valiant effort at typing one-handed rather than returning your second hand to its rightful place among Anakin's barely-curled scruff, "Do you ever stop talking?"

"You love the sound of my voice," He accuses, peering up at you with squinted, tired eyes, "That's why you make me read to you at night."

"No, I make you read to me at night because the last thing you read was a users' manual for a landspeeder, and you barely even skimmed that," You scratch against the crown of his head and he groans, "I worry about your literary habits."

"I worry about your hair-playing habits," He reaches out to knock your datapad out of your hand which he drags back into his hair, "Come on, baby, you owe me three books-worth of this."

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker scenario #anakin skywalker oneshot #anakin skywalker one-shot #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker headcanon #anakin skywalker headcanons #anakin skywalker hcs #anakin skywalker hc #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker blurb #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker dialogue #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker smut

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biteyoubiteme · 6 months ago

Text

busy signal

fem!reader x huening kai x choi yeonjun

synopsis: yeonjuns away on a trip and sends you a suggestive photo leaving you needing the help of your other boyfriend kai to take care of you.

warnings: 🔞!! established relationship, throuple/poly, no mxm, phone sex, breeding kink if you squint, size kink if you squint, praise, nipple play, fingering, multiple orgasms (f!rec), oral (f!rec), unprotected sex, creampie, use of the name baby, love, and the word slutty is used once.

wc: 4.7k oops

an: this is my first post on tumblr and first time writing anything with k-pop idols. feedback is appreciated :)) [m.list]

in the middle of class your phone gave a deafening jingle in the silent room. for the better part of the day your phone had not gone off meaning you didn’t know the ringer was waiting to interrupt your lesson. waiting for the perfect time to make you flustered as you tried to dig it out of your over-cramped bag to shut it off.

by the time you grab it, the class is watching as your cheeks turn pink stitching it to silent. the professor clears their throat to catch everyone’s attention again as you look at the message that embarrassed you.

thinking of you <333

the photo attached is enough to make your blush burn your ears. Yeonjun had an away game this week in Chicago. Kai and you were unable to make it because of your class schedules, and every time he went away with the hockey team he made sure to fill your phone with lude photos and audios. in his words to “make sure you don’t forget about me.”

so now you were not only embarrassed for the outburst but feeling needy all at once. Yeonjun was leaning back shirtless on his hotel bed fisting his hard cock through the thin material of his underwear.

you clicked your phone off as fast as you could hoping no one saw the photo and if they did it had been too quick to know exactly what it was. but you knew instantly because it was one of Yeonjuns favorite poses and he knew it was one of your favorites.

You still had thirty minutes in class left and a bike ride home where you were sure to call Yeonjun to chew him out knowing he has your schedule memorized. for now you slumped in your seat pushing your thighs together to relieve yourself, if only slightly because as class went on the only thing you could think about was Yeonjun and his teasing.

when you do call Yeonjun he chuckles over the line “I’m sorry the time difference has me all messed up,”

“I was so embarrassed,” your tone is on the edge of a whine and you can practically hear Yeonjun smile.

“Did I make you all hot and bothered in theoretical physics?”

“junnie,” you drag the name out and he chuckles again.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you can hear one of his teammates calling for him, “I’ll call you tonight maybe I can walk you through your little problem,”

“I don’t have a problem,” but it’s a lie and he knows it. your bike ride having made it all the more obvious how needy you really are, the seat pushing the seam of your jeans right against your clit uncomfortably.

“liar,” he sings, “if you can’t wait until tonight you do have Kai waiting at the apartment. he could fix your problem,”

“I don’t have a problem for anyone to fix,” you say, making it to your apartment and locking your bike up. “and kai is busy you shouldn’t be making me his to handle when you did this to me,”

“So you admit it,” grin in his voice.

“Yeonjun-“

“yes yes I know no teasing you cross country but hey you have two boyfriends for a reason. now I have to go, I love you!” he hung up before you could reply.

kai, Yeonjun, and you have been a trouple since high school and friends for far longer. it was not unusual in your relationship for Yeonjun to pass you off to Kai seeing as both of you tended to be a bit shy around each other when it came to sex unless it was the right circumstances i.e being drunk or just being extra clingy. kai and you are always cuddling and close. you love it when he touches you but Yeonjun is usually there to guide the two of you together, that one extra push to set the two of you in motion. you mostly think this is because the three of you started this way in the first place making it the norm.

you push open the door to your shared apartment kicking off your shoes and handing your keys on the hook. Kai's penguin keychain is already in its place showing he’s home. The only light coming from the office down the short hallway, the curtains closed against the setting sun. Padding your way over to the office you see Kai with his rumpled brown hair typing on his keyboard. He had a long paper due by midnight and had been working on it the past week, even last night he had only made it to bed around two in the morning.

you toss your school bag next to your empty desk on the opposite side of Kai’s before leaning over his seat to wrap your arms around him in a hello. “working hard huening?” you ask, pressing the side of your face into his hair. He tilts his chin in a way signaling to peck his check all without him taking his eyes away from the screen.

“nearly done,”

“Have you been staring at the screen all day?” you ask, taking in his squinted eyes and dark circles. “Did you eat anything since I left this morning?”

“some jelly I found in the fridge,” he nods.

“You can’t survive only on jelly,” you press on more kisses to his cheek before pulling away, “I’ll order takeaway for dinner but for now I’m going to try and nap,” he nods away, never leaving the essay the entire time. you are halfway out the door when he speaks up, “Did you talk to Hyung? Did his game go well?” and you’re brought back to the photo on your phone. kai would have been able to see how red you had gotten if he had looked your way. you weren't wearing a bra under your sweatshirt, your tank top being sufficient enough but your nipples are hard and uncomfortable against the martial.

“His game was good, he um, interrupted my class with his messages,” your voice was weak but unnoticed by Kai.

“oh good,” and you rush to your room to pull off your clothes. first the jeans digging into you then your sweatshirt. but as you lay down in your empty bed you can’t find anything to calm your racing mind. you grab your phone from the nightstand trying to scroll aimlessly but you keep thinking about the photo.

tossing and turning you end up on your stomach too hot to be under the covers even in only your panties and tank top. you open the text chain with Yeonjun and it’s the first thing you see. the sly little “thinking of you” message eating you alive. it was so unfair that he was so easily satisfied when away from you but you couldn’t get off by yourself and not that you hadn’t tried many times before. your hands weren’t the right feel, too short fingers, too soft, too much to think about. but you needed to get off now, looking at him with the veins in his hands showing off. you were uncomfortably wet and aching. you hadn’t even noticed the small whines you were letting out as you rolled over to your back pulling your knees up to rub your thighs together.

you wanted to call Yeonjun and beg him to walk you through an orgasm, wanted to beg Kai to take over with his mouth even if he was exhausted. but you dug your grave earlier and wouldn’t hear the end of it from Yeonjun if you fessed up to being so turned on by the photo.

This conundrum leads you to the file you had saved with all the previous photos Yeonjun had sent for this very purpose. there was no forgetting him now and not ever when he made you feel this way hundreds of miles away.

you hadn’t even noticed how late it was getting, how the room was dark and you were still stuck lying in bed looking for a release you couldn’t give yourself. and not for the lack of trying you just couldn’t make it to the end. Every missed orgasm made you tear up your soft whines suddenly pulling Kai’s attention from the other room.

The office has an adjoining wall and he was too focused on his paper to see what time it was or to see that the only light now was from his screen. He hit submit flicking off the monitor to hear your soft whimper.

he remembered you saying you would be taking a nap and then ordering food. but now seeing the time you had slept for way longer than you usually napped for after class and he would know because it was one of his favorite after-class activities to nap right along with you.

he picked himself up from his desk making his way into the dark hallway following your desperate whines. When he made it to the dark bedroom the three of you shared he flipped the switch that only lit the far corners lamp. and There you were with your hand in your pale pink panties eyes screwed shut, skin hot and flushed. you gave a weak sob before tugging your hand back still unaware of Kai in the doorway.

Kai was frozen, face turning all different shades of pink. He was tired before but now he was awake, the swell of his cock clearly seen through his gray sweatpants. He has always reacted easily to the sight of you and he was fast to try and push those feelings away. He was needy and always believed himself to be too needy and he wanted to keep you from that. Let Yeonjun take over sexually and let Kai take over emotionally.

but now here you are teary and writhing in the bed. your phone is next to your head and without warning it rings startling both you and Kai, who you finally notice.

both of you are still as the ringtone sings alone in the silence. “answer it,” Kai’s voice is thick in his throat and you lean up on your elbows to grab the phone, shutting your knees to try and hide the wet spot on your panties as if he hadn't already seen it.

“I almost didn't think you would pick up,” is the first thing Yeonjun says, the sound of his crinkling sheets on the other line telling you he was tucking in for the night.

“I was…” another tear sliding down your cheek, eyes locked on huening who gives nothing away. “busy,” the phone pressed to your ear.

“busy? working out the problem I gave you?” he says it as a joke but you’re already too needy to take it well. your voice shakes ready to burst into tears, “You’re the worst you already know I can’t do it myself,” you blink up to the ceiling trying to hold back any more tears from slipping and to avoid Kai’s gaze.

“Where is kai? I left you in perfectly capable hands,”

“he was busy and I didn’t want to bother him,”

“But where is he now, you said was, so he must be done. His deadline was a few minutes ago,” you peek over to huening, his arms crossed still standing in the door watching you, eyes trying to see right through your legs. “He's here,” you whisper shyly.

“put me on speaker,”

“junnie,”

“put me on speaker,” no room for argument. you follow instructions balancing the phone on your knees so you can rest your elbow back down on the mattress. “I leave for three days and you guys can’t live without me?”

“Hyung-“

“huening we’ve been over this before if she needs to be taken care of she gets taken care of,”

“I’m not a house plant,” you quip, “ and I don’t need to be forced onto any-“

“you’re never forcing me,” Kai cuts in, “if you had asked I could have…” but he shakes his head not knowing how to continue.

“use your words,” Yeonjun pushed after Kai trails off, “You both get nowhere without asking, again we've been over this. kai you know what you're doing and she likes it, loves it, hell we both know she likes your fingers over mine,”

“junnie,” your blush is all down your chest now made to look worse by your white tank, your nipples are straining against the fabric. you don’t know why you always felt so shy around Kai, maybe it was because he was so much bigger than you even if you were a little older. he stood over you, took up space in the doorframe, and completely wrapped himself around you when you hugged, that added with the fact he too was shy only worsened the effect you had on each other. even after knowing each other for most of your lives.

Kai had already made it to the bed sitting right on the edge close enough to hear the phone better. “Pick yourself up, use your words, and ask for what you want. if I can’t even see you and I know exactly what it is you want then it should be easy for the two of you to grasp,”

“But what if…” Kai starts and you know he wants to bring up the one time he didn’t make you finish. It was years ago in high school when the three of us were still new to sex. Yeonjun was there to make you cum but it made Kai scared ever since and it only worsened his fear of repeating that night when Yeonjun wasn’t here to make up for him.

“huening that was like six years ago and I’ve seen you make her cum so hard she couldn’t form words before. Do you need me to walk you through it?”

Kai placed a hand around your ankle at the question sending a bolt to your core. your knee jerking in response sending the phone flying from your knee and onto your stomach still face up. “could you?”

“What's she wearing?”

Kai drags his hand up your calf and you clamp your knees together. “hardly anything,” his voice is throaty, his pupils blown. “the blush pink panties and a spaghetti strap tank,”

Yeonjun hums over the phone approvingly. “Summer always makes her dress so slutty,” he groans, “not fair I don’t get to see,”

“facetime?” Kai asks leaning over to place a feather-light kiss on your knee.

“you guys won’t be able to hold the phone the way I want to see,” he shuffles again in bed. “is she wet?”

you whimper at the question keeping your knees pinned together but Kai already knows the answer, “soaked even though she’s trying to hide it,”

“am not,” and Kai raises his brows but doesn’t push it, only lays another stomach-fluttering kiss on your knee.

“always wants to deny deny deny,” and Kai chuckles,” Pull her legs open I’m sure you will have to hold her thighs down,”

Kai follows his instructions, butterflying your legs to either side, hands eating up your thighs. Kai pulls himself onto the bed fully laying down to be level with your clothes core. you can feel his breath through the wet fabric and you try to wiggle away.

Kai squeezes the meat of your thigh again in warning. “take your time before taking her panties off,”

kai blows cool air onto your clothed wet center making you buck your hips so sensitive from the strain of the day. Kai keeps you pinned before leaning in to rub his nose over the sodden fabric, the tip brushing your clit sending a chill up your spine. He gives a little smile at your reaction, your teeth digging into your lip.

“I want to hear you baby,” Yeonjun took the words right from his mouth. Kai needs to hear your moans now with your tears drying on your cheeks, your desperate whines turning into desperate pleas.

Kai gives the smallest kiss to your clit and you try to chase the sensation. “Kai,” your pout is unheard as he lifts a finger to pull back your panties to reveal you to him.

and no matter how many times he’s faced your pussy it will forever be his favorite sight. your puffy lips begging to be sucked, clit swollen, and you never fail to be drenched and glistening. He licks his lips, you had mentioned him needing to eat and now he’s faced with his favorite meal.

“slow huening you always give her what she wants so fast let her wait,”

“junnie please, I’ve been waiting all day,” you try to roll your hips to meet Kai’s face but he pulls away keeping his finger hooked in your panties. it’s hard to completely move with his chest on your feet but it doesn’t stop you from trying when he latches onto your thigh leaving a trail of kisses and bites.

“Please,” you breathe and the chorus of both of them moaning makes your stomach flutter, they always make the prettiest noises.

Kai quits his teasing and gives you one last clit kiss before suddenly licking a path from your entrance to your clit where he latches on and gives a harsh suck. the sensation makes your knees jerk up and you reach a hand out to tangle in his hair, tugging hard. “oh fuck,” are the only coherent words Yeonjun can make out over the phone.

in Chicago, he’s spread out on his bed phone in one hand and his cock in the other. gripping the base to relieve some pressure but not jerking off just yet.

kai works your clit just the way you like and you can feel your impending orgasm building with how close you’ve been all night. kai let’s go of your thigh with one hand before gathering up your slick and prodding your entrance. your back arches giving him better access and you moan as he slips a finger in and then another.

“She's close,” Yeonjun breathes. He and Kai both know the change in your whimpering.

kai nips at your clit and you cry out as he presses the sweet gummy spot inside you that makes you see stars. you cum hard enough to have tears leaking again, your hand pulling Kai down harder on your clit before it’s too much and you have to let him go.

kai pulls away but not before licking you clean leaving you twitching. your pussy was swollen and he couldn’t wait to feel you strangling his cock the second he got it in you.

“See I told you that you didn’t have to worry,” Yeonjuns light laugh from the phone is followed by a weak moan. “legs up, fold her in half,”

Kai doesn't follow his orders first, picking up the phone and placing it on your chest. you were already spilling out of your tank so he took the opportunity to tug the straps down and reveal your tits to him. Kai bites his lip before leaning down to give you soft pecks all along your chest. “I didn’t even kiss you first I'm so sorry baby,” he mutters into your neck kissing up your jaw and to your mouth.

before you can say anything in return his mouth is in yours and you can taste yourself on his tongue. Now with him hovering over you your legs are free to wrap around him. tugging his sweatpants-covered cock closer to your entrance. He moans into your mouth before his large hand takes hold of your breast tweaking your nipple. “huening,” you moan, throwing your head back when he ruts into you. He leans down to latch his lips around your untouched breast, nipping you as he rolls his hips forward again.

the phone is close to Kai’s mouth and Yeonjuns breathing is labored on the other end. “I can’t wait any longer,” Yeonjun spits into his palm giving himself one loose tug, “I want to hear her cum again,”

Kai nods even if he can’t be seen over the phone and he pulls away from you tugging off his shirt by the back collar and throwing it behind him. he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats, a wet spot where he has been rubbing against you, tugging them down to let his cock slap his stomach. The release makes him moan, knowing just like Yeonjun he couldn’t wait and he needed to hear you moaning again. he wastes no time in tugging your ruined panties down your legs before placing his hands in the pit of your knees and bending you in half like Yeonjun suggested. your ankles are on Kai’s shoulders and he has the perfect view.

your hair all over the pillows, eyes half-lidded, you had taken over with tugging on your nipples, your tank top now a makeshift belt around your center, phone stuck to your chest from the sheen of sweat you now had.

you watched Kai drag a hand over his cock, hard and red waiting for you. He almost buckled at the feeling, his free hand wrapping around your thigh to pull you open. “Look at you,” he whispers, taking the tip and dragging it through your wet folds. the sound is loud and Yeonjun chuckles “She sounds ready,”

but Kai’s not moving to slide into you he’s now back to teasing, running the head of his cock back and forth from your entrance to your clit without enough pressure. you roll your hips whining, “Hyuka please,” he shudders at the nickname before notching the mushroom tip of his cock inside you. it always amazed you how he could fit all of himself in you when before you had always believed you would never be able to take all of him. but he proves you wrong again as he pushes in inch by inch both of you moaning loud enough for Yeonjun to buckle all the way in Chicago. “fuck fuck fuck you sound so good,” he’s trying to go slow with the rhythm he tugs but he can’t keep himself in check the way you do for him.

kai bottoms out leaning forward and bending you properly in half before burying his nose into your neck to try and catch his breath.

you can feel him so deep you can’t think straight. his arms hugging your legs to him as he places an open palm over your ribs, the heat of his skin on yours letting you sink into the mattress. kai kisses the swell of your collarbone before pulling out an inch and pushing back in. You whimper at the sensation, weaving your fingers in his dark hair and pulling the strands. both of your boys loved their hair to be played with during sex or just resting next to each other.

kai pushes himself up placing his free hand next to your head for leverage, holding you still by your side with the other. he pulls out almost all the way and you try to chase him making him giggle, “Patience love I’ll give you more,” he slowly inches in and you hum arching into him. “look at you, how did I get so lucky? hum?” the praise makes you preen and Yeonjun approves, “so willing for us,” he grunts the soft sound of his hand slapping heard.

kai picks up the pace to match the sound, he's knocking the cradle of your legs, heavy balls matching the beat on your skin. ”deeper,” it’s a throaty ask from your lips but Kai hears you and sinks his hips, elbow bending slightly as his other hand tugs on your tank top using it like a handle. and he goes deeper and you swear you can feel him in your throat, your moan not even sounding like you anymore. kai is now pounding into you finding the heady rhythm Yeonjun set with ease, fucking into you so well that the phone slips from your chest into the crook of your neck pressing the speaker into your ear. Yeonjuns moans are louder making your toes curl your second orgasm building heavy in your stomach. “I want it hyuka please cum in me,”

Kai’s movements falter at your plea, his arm holding him up buckling from his stutter. “Beg,” Yeonjun mutters knowing exactly what Kai needs, if anything Yeonjun thinks huening has a thing for hearing you beg and whimper and that’s why he holds out so long when it comes to you after you both have overcome your shyness. but jun knows that when you both get to this point in the night Kai needs you to beg for him.

“Please I can take it,” Kai’s head falls to your ear, his moans in one and Yeonjuns in the other, “please I’ve been good,”

“no she hasn’t,” Yeonjun groans, “she was looking at dirty pictures in class,”

Kai almost can’t take the accusation, the trembling in his arm traveling down his spine, he wants to cum, knows it’s going to happen at any moment but he wants you there with him. “p-pictures?” He can hardly get any words out.

“I wasn’t,” you shake your head before crying out as Kai delivers a powerful thrust.

“she was and I don’t think she should cum now since she’s denying it,”

“Yeonjun please,” you have tears threatening to spill. your hand in Kai’s hair pushing him closer to your throat your other one scratching at the back of his neck, “please hyuka I wasn’t, please I want to cum please please pl-“Kai takes his thumb and shoves it into your mouth to quiet you, your tank top now forgotten as you suck his finger. “promise to take it all,” he’s breathless hot air fanning over your skin.

“I want it please hyuka,” you whine when he takes his thumb back to wedge between the two of you to press on your clit. you jolt at the contact and somehow he sinks deeper between your legs, both of you trying to chase the feeling again.

you can feel him twitch inside you, the sign he’s about to cum. “junnie?”

“I’m right there baby,” his breathy moans growing louder by the second.

Kai presses down on your clit stilling inside you as he cums. his moans pressed into your ear. The heat of him as he gives weak strokes to ride out his high triggers your orgasm right after your head falls back into the pillows, legs shaking as your pussy flutters around Kai. Yeonjun follows right after, his curses stained.

the room is silent as Kai finally lets his arm go, letting his full weight lay on you. your legs are numb as you feel Kai's light kisses behind your ear. “you did so well,” your happy sigh is enough to make Kai grin against your skin.

“I made a mess,” Yeonjun mutters, “I wish I had my girl to come lick me clean,”

“junnie,” the image making you pulse around Kai’s softening cock, it wouldn't be the first time Yeonjun had made you follow the trail he left up his stomach.

kai finally rises back up letting your legs fall as he pulls out. the steady leak of your combined cum warm and staining the sheets.

you’re completely limp in the bed as huening moves to grab a wet rag to wipe you up. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow night,” Yeonjuns smile heard over the line.

“I can’t believe you told Kai I was looking at dirty pictures,” your hand falls over your eyes as you feel huening spread your legs, the warm rag soothing to your heated flesh.

“you did look at my dirty photo”,

“It was like a flash bang i wasn’t expecting it while in class,”

“So you were looking at dirty pictures in class,” Kai laughs, kissing your inner thigh before guiding your legs into a new pair of clean panties. He had already put on new briefs himself before tugging off the soiled comforter to toss in the wash later. He was always so meticulous in picking up after sex where Yeonjun could easily have snuggled in dirty sheets and all.

“not really,” you sit up to tug your tank top back into place pulling your phone along with you. “just hurry back already, and let’s not bring it up again,”

Kai pulls the spare blanket from the closet before pulling himself under with you. “yeah hyung hurry back the bed feels empty with only the two of us in it,”

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