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sakkiichi · 1 year ago

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COVER ME IN SUNSHINE.

Ways in which your kid calls his dad. Will he get to hear a ‘papa’?

ft. Scaramouche/Wanderer, Albedo, Xiao, Childe, Kaeya, Neuvillette x gn! reader.

cw/genre: pure fluff. Reader is referred to as ‘mama’, you and the character have a child. They’re all girl dads.

a birthday present for my dearest @bunny-rambles 🩵 i’m wishing you the best day today and always, hun ! ilysm, thank you for always being by my side. I hope we can celebrate many many more birthdays together, mwah <3

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ note: about this fic… i struggled quite a little with it, and i’m sorry it’s not my best piece… this was a totally new concept to write for me, but i still hope you can enjoy, bunbun, dear ♡

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

✧ SCARAMOUCHE

Wide indigo orbs meet his furrowed gaze.

Scaramouche is not amused.

Or at least that’s what he wants whoever sees him right now to believe. Namely, you.

Tiny hands cup the Wanderer’s cheeks, big eyes, so similar to his, staring up at him in wonder. The little girl in his arms squeezes his face, a pout forming on her father’s lips. Giggles erupt from her smiling lips, the corners of Scaramouche’s mouth unconsciously tilting upwards.

“You’re amused, huh?” Your husband asks, rocking the baby in his hold. She stares at him, her little arms flailing upward, giggling happily.

“Moochie!” She babbles, trying to stand on the wanderer’s knees, her hands reaching for his hat.

“Hey, hey, now!” Kunikuzushi pouts, securing his hat. “That is not a toy and I’m not Moochie…”

“Moochie!” His daughter repeats, poking his cheek.

He sighs.

“Not Moochie…” Scaramouche’s ears take on a rather rosy tone, especially when your giggles are not exactly inconspicuous, your attempt at keeping hidden just outside the living room, obviously half-assed.

“Pa-pa. Not Moochie.” He repeats, bopping his little one’s nose. “And here, play with this.” He offers, handing his baby a doll curiously identical to himself.

Your eyes soften from your spot when you observe the fond smile on your lover’s face. He might feign annoyance, but when it came to your baby, all the facade was scattered to the winds. Storm clouds and lightning seemed so far away when he was surrounded by the blue skies and birdsong that dawned with your daughter’s hand grabbing his finger.

“Pa..” The little one begins, lifting the doll, as if indicating that it indeed represents her father.

“Pa…” Your wanderer prompts, as he points to the cloth mini version of himself.

Then, the girl’s eyes focus somewhere beyond her dad, tiny hands wiggling and waving, the plush doll still in her grasp.

“Mama!” She exclaims, making to reach for you, trying to climb over the sofa’s backrest, where it not for your partner’s protective hold.

Finally stepping out from your hideout, you walk towards them.

Familiar warm arms wrap around the no longer broken puppet, as your precious baby rests between your two heartbeats. Yours, steady, undeniably human. His, bloomed anew, thanks to you; with a newfound tune, sweeter, gentler, thanks to his little one.

Scaramouche closes his eyes, lashes of now starlit midnights resting on his perfect cheekbones. His head leans on your shoulder, your lips feather-light on his dusky hair, as your hands gently lift his hat a bit.

Your girl grabs one of her father’s fingers once more, the handmade mini wanderer kept close to her chest.

Yes, storms were definitely over for days to come.

✧ ALBEDO

A tug on the leg of his pants and familiar unintelligible noises pull the alchemist out of his task.

Albedo’s features soften when he spots the cause of his distraction.

Putting the notebook he was currently scribbling on aside, he crouches down.

“And who do we have here?” The chalk prince asks, smoothing the golden locks on his baby’s small head.

“Mama?” She replies, her tiny hand pulling on her dad’s clothes.

The gesture is followed by one of Albedo’s gentle chuckles, eyes like northern stars on clear nights bright at the sight of his daughter.

“Mama’s not here now, little princess.” He explains, as he picks the baby up. “They will get home soon, though.” Your child stares at him as if unsatisfied with the answer, head slightly tilted to the side. “How about we have some fun in the meantime?”

Giggles that always reminded Albedo of sunshine days at dragonspine are the answer that follows.

Taking his little one’s two hands in his, the chief alchemist helps his daughter take a few trembling steps, the baby happily padding on the wooden floor.

“There we go, princess!” Your lover chuckles, sitting the girl securely on the beige couch. Teal eyes flecked in emerald follow your partner’s movements, as he rummages through your living room’s drawers.

A few seconds later, more incomprehensible joyful babbles follow, when he sits by your daughter’s side, his hands expertely setting the supplies he retrieved on the low table. She stares at him intently, her gaze drawn to the vibrant crayons cluttering the tabletop’s surface.

“What should we draw today, my princess?” Are Albedo’s words, as he hands his child a light blue pencil, its tip dulled so she can’t hurt herself.

“Snow!” She exclaims, her tiny feet kicking back and forth in excitement, eliciting chuckles from her dad.

“You want to paint snow, my little cecilia?” He asks, combing through her blonde strands. “Alright, how about we paint you, mama and papa building a snowman?”

“Yay!” Your baby reaches for the blank paper, wonder and excitement written all over her rounded features, her tongue sticking out the corner of her small mouth. She always loved to draw and paint, especially when it was with Albedo. And even if her pictures often ended up turning out as just criss-crossing lines or messy splotches, you and your husband always kept every single one of them, displayed as priceless masterpieces on the fridge’s door, the living room walls or your study.

After a few minutes of focused work, three figures start taking form over a background of messily drawn blue snowflakes.

“Look, dearie.” Albedo calls. “Who are these?”

His girl looks up at him, a huge smile on her face as she bites the pencil.

“Mama! Me! And Papa!” She answers proudly, pointing at each of the figures.

Albedo’s eyes widen, gilded sparks reflected in the cloudless skies of his irises at his daughter’s words.

Those last two syllables.

His own pencil falls out of his grasp, clattering to the carpeted floor. In this moment, nothing else exists, save for the jingling echo of his daughter’s angelic tone.

“Papa?” She asks, tugging on his sleeve.

Albedo picks the little girl up, rising her as she laughs, unaware.

“Can you say it again, little princess? ‘Papa’.”

“Papa! Papa!” Giggles leave her throat.

Softly, Albedo places a kiss on her kid’s forehead, hugging her as the both of them lay down on the sofa.

When you got home, silence greets you, broken only by even breaths. Smiling to yourself, you brush a kiss against your husband’s and your daughter’s hair, a new painting adorning the walls after you gently throw a blanket over the sleeping figures of your two treasures.

✧ XIAO

“Do you want to hold her, Xiao? She’s been looking at you for a while.” You chuckle, your gaze softened when it sets upon your yaksha.

Golden eyes, not unlike the child’s currently on your arms, shadow in fear and shame for a moment.

What if he hurts the baby? What if his karma taints her somehow? What if-

“Xiao.” Your hand finds his gloved one, centuries of bloodshed written in the concealed scars. “She’ll be okay.” You reassure, a gentle squeeze, as your fingers slot between his.

The adeptus glances in his daughter’s direction, her round amber eyes curiously observing him.

Your husband’s jaw sets, his lips drawn in a taut line. If someone were to look at him now, they may think he’s sulking, the furrow of his brow apparently an indication to steer clear.

You, however, know better.

“Here, I’m with you, love.” You softly utter, placing your daughter in her father’s arms.

The baby stares up at her dad in awe, her little hands fiddling with the necklace he always wears.

She’s so small… such a pure and precious being… will she be safe with him?

Just as these thoughts plague his mind, the girl curls up in his embrace, nuzzling against his toned torso.

“See? She adores you, Xiao…” You tell him, knuckles brushing against your baby’s soft full cheek. “Isn’t that right, sweetie?” She turns around, a smile drawing on her lips, as she buries herself further into Xiao, whose cheeks have gone as red as the carmine lining his eyes.

“H-hello, little qingxin…” Xiao greets her, awkwardly rubbing her back.

In response, his baby tilts her head slightly backwards, the molten suns in her stare illuminating her father’s rusted gold gaze.

“Papa!” She goes, a little clumsy, it sounding more like ‘dada’.

The vigilant yaksha’s eyes widen, his heart feeling like a million bright lanterns floating towards a starry sky.

“Xiao! She said ‘papa’! See? She loves you!” You excitedly chant, hugging your husband’s waist, as you pepper kisses all over his face. “You are her first word, dear, our baby adores her dad so much. I knew she would!” A smile tugs at your lips, lids fluttering closed as you rest your cheek on Xiao’s shoulder.

His hands hover around his daughter, his hold on her delicate, as if she was a newly bloomed flower whose petals could vanish if the wind blew too strongly.

“Papa…” The girl repeats, her chubby cheek squished against’s Xiao’s form. Her eyes are droopy, a little yawn escaping her as she settles more comfortably in her father’s embrace.

Your adeptus heaves out a sigh of relief, the warmth of a familiar fireplace swarming all around him, as if candid candle flames were running through his veins when the soft snores of his daughter reach his ears.

The conqueror of demons’ mask would be shed for tonight.

✧ CHILDE

Small hands are glued to the window’s glass panes, a pair of bright blue eyes staring awestruck at the image currently taking place in your garden.

Flashes of crystalline cyan flit across the air as Childe wields his double blades, merging them into a spear, his muscles taut at the effort.

The little girl’s tiny hands curl into fists, as she leans forward in anticipation, marine gaze following her father’s movements.

He reminds her of the illustrations she’s seen in the picture books Teucer has shown her before.

She must get closer.

Looking over her shoulder, your daughter makes sure you’re busy with something in the kitchen.

Her plan can be put into action now.

Crawling towards the door on all fours, she realizes she’s nowhere near tall enough to reach the handle.

Oh, but she takes after you, and will not be deterred by something like this.

Silently, the baby makes her way towards the dog you took in. He’s big and fluffy and very peaceful, often keeping company to the little girl. With a gentle pat to his side, she looks up at him with those big blue eyes and, despite his instinct to keep her safe, the puppy obliges to her demand.

Folding his paws, the animal lowers himself to the ground, allowing your daugher to climb. A vivid spark flashes through her ocean eyes, tiny hands securing on her companion’s fur.

And just as she was about to reach the door opening to the garden, a familiar voice that’s lulled her to sleep many a night stops her in her tracks.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, little lady.” You stand a couple feet away from her, hands on your hips, your concern masked with masterfully feigned anger.

Your baby stares up at you, that oceanic gaze puppy-like, much like her father did when you were mad at him.

“Mama…” She mumbles, her little hands signaling to where Childe is training outside, sounds you can’t understand leaving her pouty lips.

You sigh, kneeling to pick her up, rubbing your dog’s chin gently.

“So you want to see papa training, don’t you, little troublemaker?” You prompt, smiling as you tickle her belly. She giggles, wiggling her legs in your hold. “Alright, just this once, and because he’s almost finished with his routine.” You warn, softly pinching her cheek.

Once outside, you both stare at the harbinger, you, with heating cheeks; your daughter, in admiration and wonder.

Then:

“Papa!” She calls, energetically waving to her father, as you have to struggle so she doesn’t fall out of your grasp.

Suddenly, Ajax’s hydro blades vanish, a rare glow present in the eyes that are so like his daughter’s. A wide grin spreads across his sun-kissed features, arms opening as he runs towards you and his baby.

“Papa! Papa!” His daughter repeats, as your husband hugs the both of you.

No matter how cold Snezhnaya’s blizzards blew, Ajax would always have his personal patch of sunshine in you two.

✧ KAEYA

Calla lilies surround the scene, their russet-hued petals aglow in the blue shimmer of the statue of the seven standing amidst the lake.

Dusk approaches, the sky still dyed in shades of tangerine and cherry blossom, the sun, a glimmering halo right above the horizon.

Over frondous grass spotted in sun and shadow, a blanket lies, its baby blue pattern fading into the multiple colors of the snacks scattered above it: portions of cake you baked the afternoon prior; sandwitches carefully cut in triangle shapes; handpicked apples and sunsettias, cut and placed into plates by your lover.

But perhaps the most vivid color of them all was that of the couple sitting atop it.

A couple and their daughter.

“You really liked this pie, didn’t you, little lily?” Kaeya coos at his baby, her chubby cheeks littered with crumbs of the soft cake she’s been devouring all afternoon. Two pairs of ice blue eyes meet each other beneath the setting sun, the girl’s giggles eliciting a chuckle from her father’s lips as he carefully wipes her face. “Mama will be mad if you stain your dress, little princess.” The cavalry captain points out, in mock scolding.

His reprimand is met with a bashful smile and his kid cuddling into him, her tiny hands clutching his clothes.

“Kaeya, don’t tease her!” You swat at his arm playfully, soft laughter leaving the both of you as your husband smooths over your girl’s hair, placing a soft kiss on her head.

“Don’t pay any mind to papa, now.” You reassure her, tenderly brushing over her chubby hands. “He’s a little silly sometimes.”

The girl looks up at you, those iceberg toned eyes wide in wonder at the world that she still has to discover around her.

You ruffle her hair, as she turns around in Kaeya’s embrace, settling on top of his legs, staring up at him.

“Papa!” She announces, taking ahold of Kaeya’s long braid, playing with it. “Papa… prince!” She points out, as she grabs one of the dolls she brought: a boy wearing a crown.

With a knowing grin, you shift closer to your lover, leaning against his side.

“Yes, little sweetheart, you’re right, papa is a prince.” Kaeya’s hand locks with yours over his shoulder, fingers laced together, the warmth of his touch so paradoxical, given the freeze he commands.

“And that is why you’re our little princess.” The knight tells your baby, as he places a stray calla lily on her hair.

“Princess!” She happily babbles, rising her arms.

Instances like this… they truly stoked gentle flames around the captain’s heart, oftentimes concealed behind apparently crystalline walls of frost. As long as he had the two of you, at least during brief moments like this, there would be no need for practiced facades.

Across the distant horizon, even dusk seemed to delay, allowing a few more seconds of luminous skies for the family sitting below it, a flickering smile crossing the anemo archon’s face of stone.

✧ NEUVILLETTE

Slate skies expand above him, his opal eyes restless oceans in the tears they contain, painted lashes dripping in midnight droplets.

Rainbow roses seem to weep too, their petals downcast, the sunrise shades of their blossoms muted in the downpour.

Neuvillette stands alone, the garden of your shared home melancholy; the trees too bare, the grass ashen, the flowers wilting.

Save for the pitter-patter of rusted silver droplets, silence reigns the scene.

The hydro dragon’s mood had a tendency to be mirrored in the heavens over Fontaine, after all.

Sighing, the Chief Justice takes a sit by a bush of lumidouce bells. Fitting, for someone whose shoulders slump not unlike the petals of the periwinkle hued blooms.

“Neuvi, love.” A familiar voice calls him, gently. “What are you doing out there in this weather, dear?”

Long argent locks of hair shift, like seafoam by moonlight, when he turns around, water, from the rain, or his tears, or both, running down his cheeks.

“Someone has come to see you, my love.” You softly utter, beckoning your husband towards the porch, the impending cacophony of his racing mind and falling downpour partially silencing.

Neuvillette’s features warm up a bit the moment he realizes who you’re talking about.

A little girl placidly rests between your arms, eyes of crystalline dusk looking up at her father. Unlike his, hers are rounded, lacking the dark circles frequently etched under your lover’s.

“Look who’s here, little rainbow.” You coo at your daughter, who tries chasing after your wiggling fingers, right as you playfully poke her belly. “Papa is here, do you perhaps want to play with him?”

The baby looks at you, one of her tiny fists on her mouth, as her eyes crinkle up in crescents. Then, she turns towards her dad, arms reaching out.

“Papa! Papa!” She laughs, inclining her flexible small torso towards him.

Neuvillette’s gaze widens, placing his hands around his little girl, protectively cradling her in his embrace.

“Papa is here, sunshine.” Your lover assures her, as he leans down to kiss her nose.

In the distance, a familiar arch shoots across the heavens, the violet of goodbyes and separations shifting into rosy affection.

Golden replaces dull steel, flecks of it dotting the grass, remnants of rain clinging like emeralds to the verdant stems.

The sun is out. The hydro dragon cries no more.

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angelqie · 2 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . KEEP IT A SECRET!

SOMAR𝒊O you're dating the captain of the school's basketball team who can't keep a secret ; female reader x nishimura riki, est.relationship, 0.9k.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 skinship, kissing, fluff, teasing (name calling) LiBRARYㅤ

“Nice shot, shortie.”

The ball bounced on the freshly polished floor, creating the perfect cue for awkward silence. Turning your head in the direction of the voice, you found a group of overgrown jocks grinning at you like a pack of wolves, except for one who shot a proud smirk in your direction. Namely, your boyfriend.

“Take a class on manners next time, Anton.” Moving in their direction, you peered directly up at them, visibly noticing the drastic difference in height, something you were used to since you had been their manager since first year. “Take your growth vitamins next time, shortie.” He retorted, causing a red blush of irritation to rise on your face.

Out of your reach before you could throw a ball at him, you were left fuming at your least favourite nickname being graciously repeated, another thing you were used to. “Just get ready for practice.”

Motioning into the storage closet, you silently muttered curse words in the direction of your boyfriend’s best friend who couldn’t hear you. “Didn’t know that such a short person could be that angry.”

“Piss off, Nishimura.” Shooting a glare in his direction, you watched him rest his body against the doorframe, closing it quietly behind him. He watched you angrily attempt to reach the box of spare balls on the cabinet which was placed on the highest shelf.

“How do they expect a person to reach this stuff if they put it so high?” Trying to stand on the tips of your toes, your fingertips just barely grazed the box. “Should I help you?” He suggested, watching in amusement at your stubbornness.

“No thank you. You can go warm up.” You spoke tensely, jumping up to add some leverage to your attempts. Finally grabbing hold of the corner of the box, your grip slipped, leading the box to spill out its contents over you.

“You can open your eyes now, you know.” Peering through dark eyelashes, you found your boyfriend towering over you, evidently blocking the balls from touching you. “Are you okay?” You spoke, concerned about the top of his head, which was plagued by yet another ball that seemingly hesitated to fall.

His eyes showed no emotion although his mouth was upturned into a grin. “It must suck to be that short.” He spoke, dodging your hand that was coming in his direction. “Seems like your head’s just fine.” You spoke, attempting to pick up the fallen balls, being blocked by his arm.

“Don’t you think I deserve an apology?” You shot him a fake smile. “Sorry.” Rushed, you attempted to move away from his cage, blocked again by his arm.

“What if people find us here?” You questioned, nervously glancing at the door and listening to the sounds of the boys making a racket. “So?” He neared your lips while you pressed your eyes closed, expecting a kiss.

“What’s going on here?” Just to your luck, a familiar snarky voice sounded through the room. Shooting your eyes open, you quickly glanced at the team surrounding the door and pushed Riki’s body away from you, trying to manage the blush growing on your cheeks. “Nothing.” You started, shooting your boyfriend an apologetic look and moving to pick up the balls that were left on the ground. “He was just helping me get a box, which he seemed to have failed at doing.” You mumbled the last part, shooing them away from the storage closet.

Riki stayed behind, helping you pick up the balls. “You owe me for that one.”

After stalling in the storage room, you motioned into the basketball court, watching them practice quietly. Zoning out on Riki, you watched him act cool after every single point he made and fought the urge to smile at his actions.

A familiar voice called out to you, leading your attention away from your thoughts. “This is for you.” Riki spoke, shooting a 3-pointer and winking in your direction. Warmth moved up your face, coating your cheeks with a red hue.

“She’s blushing.” They jeered, teasing you for your reaction. “I’m not blushing.” You added ferociously, urging them to get on with practice instead of fooling around.

“If I score more points than Anton in a one-on-one, will you give me a kiss?” The red on your cheeks deepened into a shade of scarlet. Ignoring the childish jeers sounding in the court, you snapped your head to look at Riki. “You owe me one from last time.” He pointed out, encouraged by his teammates’ noises.

“Sure. Go ahead.” You finally agreed, rooting for Anton just once and hoping he wouldn’t fail you. The game commenced, starting with an even score and gradually going in Riki’s favour.

Checking the time, you blew the whistle reluctantly ending the game with a score of 79-90.

“Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!” In unison, they repeated loudly, forming a circle around the two of you.

“So much for keeping it a secret.” You muttered quietly, shifting your weight to the tips of your toes and pressing a light kiss on his lips. Receiving groans of disapproval, Riki leaned down and took matters into his own hands, connecting his lips with yours for exactly 5 seconds before pulling back.

The boys went wild, making a racket through the court while you shot a playful glare at your apologetic boyfriend. Ruffling your hair with his hand softly, he grinned. “I told you I’m bad at keeping secrets.”

#ㅤ— 𝒟𝑎𝑦𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 ⊂🦢⊃#enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #riki imagines #riki x reader #ni-ki x reader #nishimura riki imagines #enhypen niki #enhypen riki #enhypen maknae line

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kitten4sannie · 4 months ago

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dolce and gabbana

pairing: san x guest! reader (fem)

genre: pure smut with a tiddlywink of plot

summary: san can’t seem to get you off his mind after sitting next to you during the latest D&G showcase, so he has no choice but to get you on his dick instead.

w.c: 3.3k

warnings: some alcohol use, subby until he’s not! san, dommy mommy who folds instantly when san asserts himself! reader, both reader and san mutually go after one another despite knowing one of them is MARRIED (hoes will be hoes what can i say <3), reader’s husband is a dick ofc, misogyny (from said husband), cheating, seduction, exhibitionism, mommy/daddy kink….. (i’m weak okay,,), teasing, ITS BIG BTW AND CURVED……, only praise and pet names (omg who hacked k4s???), groping, fingering, kissing, dry humping on a couch in a very crowded room, one neck bite, san cums untouched, oral (receiving), squirting, one singular pussy slap, san puts reader into a mating press on her husband’s side of the bed just for funsies, manhandling, size kink, breeding kink, creampies (sannie cums a lotttt)

a/n: as a pudding since day 1 i am in absolute shambles thanks for asking <3 and YES im very aware i posted yesterday but the fic demons cannot be silenced!!! and just fyi i’m sure san was very grateful and absolutely brimming with excitement to be at the show!! the way i wrote him here does not reflect his actual feelings towards anything,, its just a silly fic and i wrote what i wanted lol. also i wish i could tell you how many times “dolce and gabbana that’s on my titties~” played in my head while i typed this out 😭😭 (also i did not proofread this whatsoever so forgive me if there are errors) but anyways, i hope you enjoy :33

song recs: la romana by bad bunny, rover by kai, planet goddamn by mac miller

San knew eyes would be on him. Why wouldn’t they be? He was dressed to the nines, his hair slicked back to showcase his alluring, feline-like eyes, his sharp, angular features that could give someone a fatal cut if they looked for too long, and most importantly, he was all decked out in a sleek black custom-made top that perfectly adorned his broad shoulders and chest, one that even cinched securely around his impossibly tiny waist. Of course it did. It had been custom fit and made just for his body. Even the tailor had jokingly mentioned that Michelangelo himself must’ve sculpted him to perfection in the heavens before San was born, but San wasn’t laughing. He perfected his body through his own sheer willpower and determination alone, to be the best that he could be for his own self — and if people just so happened to drool over the results of his hard work, then that was simply a perk.

Holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the many camera flashes, he continued to make his way down the walkway, offering many of the starstruck guests a courteous, though charming smile, wondering if their wandering gazes were due to his breathtaking ensemble or what was sitting just below it. The thought tickled him. It continued to amuse him throughout the afternoon, taking picture after picture with eager guests and wealthy tycoons alike, quite pleased with himself when neither man nor woman could seem to control themselves around him, their eyes always drifting downwards to look San up and down like he were next up in an auction, their mouths pressed to their champagne flutes in an effort to quell the thirst they felt, their free hands lingering just a little too long on the small of his back when they bid farewell to him.

San relished the fact that these poor starving individuals could never get a taste of him, no matter how incredibly rich or influential they were. None of them would get a bite of the forbidden fruit without permission from God.

It was then that the show started, various eye-catching models sashaying their way across the aisle to showcase the latest D&G collection, all displaying their own unique set of features and charm. All flawless and angelic in their own right, but they were almost predictable in that way — like mannequins made solely for the rich and beautiful to gawk at. San couldn’t help but look past them, only focusing on the expensive, tailor made clothes that were framing their perfect bodies. And after a while, he almost seemed to grow bored. Of what, exactly? He wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the sheer gaudiness of it all, the lack of self awareness for things that really mattered in the modern world, and the almost nauseating amount of self-sucking the rich individuals around him seemed to be fond of doing. San would’ve pondered it more when somebody near him gently patted his thigh, causing him to look down at the small manicured hand, the diamond ring around your finger glinting in the light like a warning sign.

“Are you bored like I am?” you whispered softly into his ear from beside him, giving him a quaint smile when he turned his head to face you.

San blushed, leaning slightly in your direction. “Am I that obvious?”

“No, don’t worry. None of these drones will be able to notice.” You motioned your head to the crowd around you, their phones in hand, all whispering to each other about how revolutionary the new collection was, despite it looking eerily similar to the fall one from the year before. “You could whip your cock out and no one would bat an eye.”

“Oh?” San studied your flirtatious smile, then looked down just to make sure his eyes hadn’t deceived him. Yep, the ring was still there — and it probably cost more than a starter house. Delighted by your forwardness, San took it upon himself to tease you, reaching down to slowly unbutton his slim-fitted pants. “Well, if that’s the case…”

Your cheeks turning bright red, you reached downwards to shield his crotch from view, looking up at him with wide eyes, your faces now impossibly close. “I-i was fucking with you! Don’t actually take out your dick…”

San’s sharpened eyes flitted from your gaze to your cherry red lips, letting go of his zipper to gently take your hand in his, pressing it firmly down onto his thigh. “Yet…?” he challenged huskily, wondering if you were like all the others and would yank your hand back, scoff in disgust, and pretend as if it had never happened. It was then that San felt you squeeze your warm hand into the meat of his thigh, your fingers just barely pressing into the inseam of his pants.

“You can be a good boy and wait till the after party, can’t you?” you asked in a lower, sultrier tone, pressing your lips to his cheek to leave your mark on him, your hand moving further up his thigh, only pulling away when you felt something hard press into your palm. Smiling sweetly, you leaned in again, this time allowing your lips to brush over his. “Good things come to those who wait.”

And just like that, you turned forward to focus on the models all gathering onto the stage at once along with the designers, clapping along with the rest of the crowd when they all took a bow. You blew a kiss to one of the designers who caught it and pretended to put it in his pocket.

Still breathless from your short encounter, San nudged your thigh with his own, biting into his lip and tasting the sweetness of your lipstick. You nudged him back, glancing at him through the corner of yours eyes, licking at your own lips, like a predator would before pouncing on their prey.

San couldn’t believe he had finally met someone like you. There was a serpent in his garden — and he couldn’t wait for it to swallow him up.

The after party was predictable as always — strangers binge drinking and snorting powder off of your previously pristine marble tabletops, others telling embellished stories about their latest trip to their private islands to various locked-in acquaintances, some off doing god knows what in your many empty guest rooms, and you could not, for the life of you, care about what your husband was currently cackling over with his close friends, focusing on the crackling wood sitting inside the fireplace you were all huddled near. When you inevitably ran out of champagne, you patted your husband’s leg so that he could remove his arm from your waist.

He looked down at you with indifference. “What is it?”

“I need more champagne, honey. I’m going to get some.”

Your husband’s face scrunched up. “Haven’t you had enough? If you drink anymore, you’re going to lose your nice figure.” He looked to his friends for validation who simply nodded along in agreement.

Your husband’s chauvinistic comments didn’t bother you anymore, just his persistent presence in your life. He was like a mosquito that was always trying to drain you, one that you could never seem to swat away. Well, nothing a little dick couldn’t fix. “That’s funny, because I seem to recall the tailor coming in this morning for an emergency visit to alter a certain suit,” you mentioned, this time pushing your husband’s arm away from you, surveying his now quiet friends with an unbothered look, before wandering off, not registering the insecurity driven ramblings that your husband was sending your way.

Once you made your way into the crowded loft, you searched your surroundings for what you were looking for, humming at the sight of the pretty boy from earlier sitting on the large plush couch in the corner, a half-empty champagne flute in hand, his attention on one of the models that had walked for your husband’s collection a few hours earlier. He was even more handsome now that you could study his captivating details, your eyes drifting over his bulky frame, from his large arms and shoulders, to his delicate waist, and down to his spread thighs, zeroing in on what was between them, knowing that the beautiful stranger was blessed in more ways than one based off what you had felt earlier.

Without hesitation, you slowly made your way across the room, your stiletto heels digging into the fur carpet below with each concentrated step, licking your red lips when the model placed one of her hands on San’s thighs and squeezed it, his suddenly submissive expression causing more knots to form within your core. You were going to make him yours.

San could barely hear the pretty model’s words over the loud music and the many overlapping voices inside the loft, not knowing what to say when she moved closer to him, clearly going in for the kill. It was then that someone stood over him, their heel nudging into his loafer. He looked up, his once hazy eyes opening wide at the sight of you standing above him with a bottle of champagne in one hand, your other hand already cradling his face. “M-miss…there you are…”

“Here I am,” you purred, running your fingers along his jaw, satisfied with the fact that your lipstick print was still visible on his tan skin.

San gulped, just about spilling the drink he was still holding onto, unknowingly spreading his thighs open further, as if he was giving you an unspoken invitation to climb onto his lap.

Humming, you lowered yourself into his lap, your plush thighs and ass pressing snuggly against his lower half. “Look at you,” you cooed softly into San’s ear, not caring to give the now fuming model any attention, lowering the cold champagne bottle in between your bodies, chuckling at the soft whimper he let out when it pressed into the exposed sections of his skin. “You’re such a good boy, saving a seat for Mommy like this. Aren’t you, baby?”

“Y-yes, I am, s-so good for you…”

“Then, be good and open your mouth,” you purred, lifting the almost empty bottle and pouring some into your mouth. San’s jaw slowly dropped, not knowing that he was already beginning to drool. You didn’t mind, clutching the sides of his heated face and pressing your parted lips onto his, transferring the sparkling alcohol to him, but not without running your tongue over his.

San brought his hands up near the sides of your ass, his fingers trembling, not knowing if he was allowed to touch you, whimpering into your mouth when you sucked the alcohol off of his tongue.

“You can touch, baby.” You reached for his wrists and brought his hands underneath the hem of your short dress, gasping when he squeezed the softness of your ass in between his ringed fingers and began to slowly guide your hips, your clothed cunt rubbing back and forth over his stiffening cock. “Mm, someone’s eager, hm? You’re a naughty one, making the main designer’s wife grind on your cock like this in front of everyone.”

“It’s…Mommy’s fault…” San murmured near your ear, rolling his own hips up into yours, making you feel every inch of his trapped throbbing cock each time he ground himself into you, biting into his lip at the sound of your breathless moans, swearing he saw your grimacing husband from over your shoulder.

“My fault, huh? Mommy should make up for it, shouldn’t she?” you sighed back onto his heated skin, pressing kiss after kiss onto his collarbones, dragging your tongue along the constellation of freckles he had on his neck, making him shudder underneath you.

“Uh-huh…” San moaned out, your hand suddenly squeezing into and sliding back and forth over his erection, your thumb repeatedly rubbing over the pronounced tip, knowing he was staining his expensive pants with sticky pre-cum. “F-fuck, I’ll cum if you keep doing that…”

“So sensitive, baby, you’re so cute…but you’re not the only one, you know? Look what you did to Mommy~” You gave his balls a gentle squeeze just to hear him whimper, before letting go, instead reaching for his hand again and leading it between your legs, moving your soaked panties to the side just in time for San to fill you up with two thick fingers.

“You’re so wet…” San groaned, unable to keep himself from adding another digit inside your slick hole, beginning to pump them in and out of you, allowing the both of you to listen to the obscene squelching sounds your cunt made each time he finger-fucked you. Something switched inside of San when you began to whine and whimper, and fuck yourself back on his fingers, your eyebrows screwed upwards, begging him for more with your teary, half-closed eyes. “So fucking wet just for me, huh? Hey, Miss, did you know your husband is standing just across the room? Think he’s hard knowing I just got his pretty little wife wetter than she’s been in her entire life?”

“B-baby, don’t tease me like that,” you whispered, not wanting the control you had over him to slip out of your grasp, grabbing onto his shoulders, accidentally causing pieces of his solid outfit to fall off and land onto the leather couch.

“It’s San, Miss, but you can call me Sannie if you wanna be a good girl for me,” he chuckled, shoving his fingers into you up to the knuckles, rolling your clit around underneath his heavy thumb. “And, I’m not teasing you, my love, he’s really watching us, and he looks like he wants to kill me.”

Just as you looked behind you to catch your husband’s displeased gaze, San began to ram his soaked digits into your spasming cunt, feeling his lips, tongue, and teeth on your neck. “O-oh my god, Sannie, oh, fuckkkk…”

Just as your warm arousal began to pour out onto his fingers and lap, San bit down into the area where your neck and collarbone connected, letting out a few stunted groans, his hips jolting up into yours, coating the insides of his designer pants with white.

“Did you just…?” you began, before San stuffed his fingers into your mouth, growing quiet and sucking your arousal off of them. He pulled them out with a pop, but you didn’t even get the chance to continue your question because you were suddenly being lifted up into the air, strong hands clutching your thighs, your legs hooked around San’s waist.

Your defeated, emasculated husband was just a blur when San carried you through the crowded room and up the stairs, not stopping until he got to the largest room at the end of the expansive hallway.

“Which side does your husband sleep on?” San asked, once he stood at the foot of the kingsized bed.

“On the right. Why do you–O-oh,” you gasped as he quickly laid you out on the right side of the bed and lifted your dress up, forcefully spreading your thighs open so that he could bury his face in your cunt, repeatedly lapping at your slit and clit over your soaked panties until he couldn’t take it, reaching up to tear your panties off with ease. “Sannie, baby boy, what’s gotten into you?”

San looked up at you with dark, dilated eyes, reaching up to his broad body to rip off the rest of his outfit, his solid muscles flexing as he closed his fingers around your waist, yanking you lower so that your cunt was closer to his face, looking like he was about to eat you alive. “Daddy’s hungry,” he simply replied, diving back into your cunt to lick and slurp up your juices, tonguing your hole just to feel you clench around him, his nose nudging your clit as he ate you out like a starved man.

Sooner or later, you began to shudder and pant, tugging at the ends of San’s sweaty hair, your thighs pressing into the sides of his head until he forcefully held them down, quickly moving his head up and down as he dragged his tongue roughly over your throbbing clit, his focused eyes never leaving yours. “S-sannie, I’m really, fuck– I’m gonna cum…!”

“Cum for Daddy,” he demanded gruffly, stuffing three fingers into your cunt and pounding them into your g-spot, lifting your ass up with his other hand so that he could catch the stream of arousal that suddenly squirted out of you, some of it inevitably soaking into the satin sheets below you. San licked your juices from his lips, going down to give your puffy cunt one last lick to savor your taste, before standing up from the bed and unbuckling his pants.

“Y-you….Did you get possessed by a demon?” you asked half-jokingly, unable to keep your thighs from trembling, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your wrist.

“And if I did? You’d still let me fuck you, wouldn’t you?” San smiled devilishly, his dimples appearing, kicking off his pants and running his closed hand along his curved, dripping length. He pressed his thighs against the side of the bed, running the tip of his cock over your lips, watching fondly as you sucked and licked the beads of pre-cum that leaked from the slit.

“I would.” Lifting yourself up so that you could completely rid yourself of your disheveled dress, you reached up for the handsome stranger, licking the saltiness from your lips. “Now, come here and show Mommy just how much Daddy wants her.”

San wasted no time climbing back onto the bed and folding you up into a mating press, leaning back to send a few wads of spit onto your cunt, smacking his hand against the wetness for good measure, before he plunged himself deep inside you.

You just about screamed, not ready for San’s unusual size and shape, the curve of his cock rubbing deliciously along your tightening walls each time he pounded himself into you. “S–ann–ie…! It’s so big, fuck– so good!”

“Aww, poor baby’s never had a big cock stretching out her pretty pussy before, huh?” San cooed into your ear, pulling all the way out, just to slam himself back in, hitting your g-spot dead on, making you cry out deliriously. “You’ll never be able to go back to your husband after this. You’re gonna be begging for me to take care of you from now on….” San pressed his lips against yours, sucking on your tongue as you moaned out for him. “Want you to cum for me again, baby…Squirt on my cock, okay?”

“S-Sannie, it’s too much,” you whined out, dragging your nails down his broad back, your toes curling just as San punched your next orgasm out of you when his curved cock once again came in contact with your g-spot.

As you began to cry from the overwhelming pleasure, San licked your tears away, gently pressing his lips into your cheek and jaw, shushing you. “Don’t worry, baby. Daddy’s here for you.” He clutched you close, holding still inside you, as his cock began to twitch. “Here it comes, princess, just for you.” A hot, creamy stream of cum began to shoot out into you, completely drenching your insides with his load.

You could hardly speak at this point in time, solely concentrated on the pleasure that still had a hold on your sore body and the warmth that was filling you up to the brim, suddenly realizing that your husband really wasn’t going to be happy with you. “Y-you shouldn’t have…nnnngh….”

San continued to roll his hips into you, his eyelids fluttering, groans spilling from his throat, your cunt still milking his pulsing cock for all it had, which was a lot, to say the least. Once there was nothing left to give you, San leaned down, pressing one last kiss to your lips, not caring that you had left your lipstick all over him. “Can I ask you something, baby?”

“Y-yes, San?”

San smiled, his glossy brown eyes glistening in the light. “When you have my baby, will you have the heart to tell your poor husband that it’s actually mine?”

Panting heavily and trying to process what the handsome stranger just said, you finally came to the realization that you let someone who didn’t even know your name possibly impregnate you. Well, at least you had something to talk about over breakfast with your husband, rather than hear him go on and on about his latest collection.

“I’m not sure about that one…”

“Can I ask you one more question?”

“Hm?”

“Should I name our baby Dolce or Gabbana?”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

#cultofdionysusnet #cromernet #ateez #ateez smut #ateez san #choi san #san smut #san x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #kpop smut

2K notes · View notes

k-hotchoisan · 4 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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liliavanrougelover · 4 months ago

Text

Kill it with fire!

Summary: You ask them to kill a bug

Characters: All NRC students + RSA students (platonic or romantic, your choice)

Warnings: Bugs

A/N: First work with Che'nya and Neige! Lets go.

Riddle Rosehearts:

Doesn’t kill bugs, it makes a mess. He traps them in a glass and throws them outside.

Trey Clover:

Simply squashes it. Usually with his shoe. If he has to use his hands, he washes them after. (AKA he’s sane.)

Cater Diamond:

Nope, nope, nope. You have to kill it. He refuses to go near bugs. If neither of you want to kill it, Cater gets Trey to do it.

Ace Trappola:

Just kills it. And brags about how well he protected you.

Deuce Spade:

He doesn’t want to hurt bugs, so he uses a glass to throw it outside.

Leona Kingscholar:

Kills it without hesitation. Unless, you woke him up for it. Can’t you do it yourself? It’s just a bug. He kills it anyway.

Ruggie Bucchi:

Eats it. OR, makes you pay him for killing it. Sometimes both.

Jack Howl:

Kills it. Normally. Like a sane person.

Azul Ashengrotto:

NO! He hates bugs too. If he must kill it, he better get something in return.

Jade Leech:

He finds it amusing that you’re scared of bugs. He better get something in return for killing it for you.

Floyd Leech:

Depends on his mood. If he’s in a good mood, he kills it and expects something in return for his services. If he’s in a bad mood, he tells you to do it yourself. If he’s in an unhinged mood, he eats it.

Kalim Al-Asim:

Doesn’t kill it. He puts a glass over it and throws it outside

Jamil Viper:

You DID NOT just ask HIM to kill a bug. The moment you point out the bug, he’s out of that room. Nuh-uh, no way, not a chance. If you really need to, ask Kalim.

Vil Schoenheit:

Puts a glass over it and throws it out.

Rook Hunt:

Grabs it with his BARE HAND. He tells you all about it with it in his hand. He then throws it outside. Insane.

Epel Felmier:

Oh yeah! Killing bugs is so masculine! Stomps it to make sure it’s dead. He looks at you with a proud smile afterwards. He did so good!

Idia Shroud:

He has Ortho, Ortho has laser eyes. He doesn’t need to take care of the bugs when Ortho takes care of the bugs. AKA, uses his brother as a bug exterminator.

Ortho Shroud:

Laser eyes.

Malleus Draconia:

Oh, you want him to kill a bug? Okay. *Proceeds to blow up half of the building.*

Lilia Vanrouge:

Did you know that bugs have a lot of protein? Back when he fought in the war, he ate bugs when the soldiers were short on food. In short, he eats it.

Silver Vanrouge:

Throws it outside with a cup. Thanks for being normal, Silver.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Stomps it until it's mush. How dare that bug terrorize his human. It must pay with its life.

Che’nya:

Messes with you by picking it up with his bare hand and shoving it at you. Ends up eating it when he’s done terrorizing you.

Neige Leblanche:

Cup method. And he’s super gentle too. He sets it down outside and is just like, “Goodbye, little buddy.” Such a silly guy <3

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nina-ya · 7 months ago

Note

Can I request Zoro, Kid, and Law (separately) where their respective crew are going to like (whether it be for a mission or just for fun), a fancy event where they need to dress up, and the dress is like dressed up, and is so pretty, that the boys can’t resist and doesn’t stop kissing them? Idk, I thought it’d be cute and I love needy men who are so in love with their partner lol

One Piece Men Being Needy (Zoro, Kid, and Law)

Pairings: Zoro x reader, Kid x reader, Law x reader (all separate) CW: Suggestive content. A lot of implied sex. Just,,,... i fear i wrote this with nothing but sinful thoughts in mind HAHADJK WC: ~1.9k total A/N: I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME THIS LONG TO GET TO THIS BUT I AM HERE HI!! This was on my mind for much longer than i would ever admit so anon i greatly thank you for letting me write about them in this context hugs and kisses to you <3

You never expected such a simple choice in attire to stir such a reaction from Zoro. His intense gaze did not leave you the moment you stepped foot off the ship, dressed to the nines for the banquet.

Throughout the evening, Zoro could not keep his hands off of you. Whether it was a firm grasp on your waist, pulling you close to his side, or a sly touch under the table, he seemed off tonight. And the kisses, oh, the kisses were something else. More frequent than usual, each one leaving you wanting more.

What really caught you off guard was when he pulled you onto his lap, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go.

“Zoro,” you whispered, a playful smile dancing on your lips as you felt his own lips planting kisses along your exposed neck and shoulder, “what’s gotten into you tonight?”

He smiled against your skin, his arms tightening around your waist as he murmured back, “Just couldn’t resist.”

You tilted your head to make eye contact with him, “Well, I’m not complaining,” you teased, reaching up to briefly run your hand through his hair.

Zoro’s smile widened at your playful response, his gaze meeting yours with a warmth that made your heart flutter just as fast as the day you first met him. “Glad to hear it,” he said, leaning in to capture your lips in a tender kiss. The two of you were lost in your own little world, focusing on the feeling of your lips against each other as the banquet faded in the background.

But moments like these can’t last forever, and your attention was pulled to a familiar voice calling your names. You glanced over to see Nami approaching, a sly smile on her face as she caught the sight of the two of you. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” she teased, her voice dripping with amusement. "Sucking each other's faces off, are we?"

You and Zoro quickly pulled apart, though the warmth of his embrace lingered on your skin. "Nami!" you exclaimed, feeling a rush of embarrassment heat up your cheeks.

Zoro just grunted in response, avoiding eye contact with Nami. If you looked closely, you could point out the smallest hint of redness creeping up onto his cheeks.

Nami chuckled at your reaction, clearly enjoying the opportunity to tease you both. "It’s not like you’re really hiding it well," she said with a laugh before turning to head back to the dance floor.

You couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed at Nami’s teasing, letting out a nervous laugh as she walked away. Zoro seemed amused by the whole situation, and went right back to planting kisses down your neck. His trail of kisses made their way up to your ear when he muttered into your ear, “She’s right. We are kind of making this obvious. Why don’t we cut this short and head back to the ship?” - - -

You were putting the finishing touches on your makeup when the door behind you swung open, pulling you out of your concentration. You shifted your attention in the mirror to see Kid standing in the doorway, dressed in a more formal attire for the night's events.

He strolled into the room, walking up behind you snaking his arms around your waist as he admired you through the mirror. “You look gorgeous.” He commented, planting a kiss against your temple. He looked down and his eyes focused on the lipstick in your hand and a smirk played on his lips. “Is that mine?” he asked.

You hummed in response as you cleaned up one of the edges. “This looked like the perfect shade,” you pulled back from the mirror and tilted your head to admire your makeup, “and it seems like I was right.”

Kid's smirk widened as he watched you, a playful glint in his eye. "Well, I suppose you have good taste," he teased, reaching out to take the lipstick from your hand. "But you know the rules, sweetheart. You gotta pay a price to borrow that."

Before you could protest, Kid leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. His lips were warm against yours, but just as quickly as it began, Kid pulled back, a smirk spreading across his face as you both took in the sight of your lipstick smeared at the edges.

You scolded Kid, lightly shoving his arm as you reached for your makeup remover. "You're going to make us late!" you exclaimed, though there was a hint of amusement in your voice as you dabbed at the smudged lipstick.

Kid chuckled, his arms still wrapped around your waist as he leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek, leaving another mark in the process. "Relax, sweetheart," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "We've got plenty of time."

As you worked to fix your makeup, Kid's hands roamed over your waist and shoulders, his touch light and affectionate as he trailed kisses along your neck, leaving more of a mess for you to clean up. "You know," he said, his voice low and husky, “you should dress like this more often. You look absolutely beautiful."

You couldn't help but enjoy the compliments he’s throwing your way along with the feeling of his large hands tracing your body, giving squeezes ever so often. "Are you trying to flatter me?" you teased, glancing at him through the mirror.

You could feel Kid's lips curl into a playful smirk against your skin as he responded "Is it working?" he murmured, looking up to lock eyes with yours in the reflection of the mirror. "Because I have a proposition for you."

Your heart was already jumping out of your chest and yet it managed to beat just a bit faster as your curiosity heightened by his words. "Oh? And what might that be?" you asked, unable to hide the anticipation in your voice.

His hands trailed lower, fingers brushing over the curve of your hips as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. "You know, we don't have to go to the event," he suggested, his voice laced with desire. "We don’t have to go out. We could stay right here. "

Excitement bubbled in your stomach at his suggestion. You placed down the items in your hand and turned around, draping your arms over his shoulders, leaning in., "And what exactly did you have in mind that we do?" you teased, your own voice lust laden.

“I have a few ideas in mind,” he murmured. With a sly grin, Kid's hands moved under your thighs, hoisting you up to sit on the counter behind you. He closed the distance between you two, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His lips moved hungrily against yours, leaving you absolutely breathless. He pulled your body against his and your hands threaded through his hair as you relished in the feelings. Yeah, you guys are not making it to that event. - - - Golden eyes fixated on you from across the room, the orbs drinking in every movement you made, every breath you took, every word you spoke as you effortlessly mingled with the other guests at the lavish gala that you had to attend for a mission. How was Law expected to focus when you looked utterly captivating? The moment you emerged from the cramped confines of the Polar Tangs’ bathroom, adorned in that breathtaking dress, he knew he was spellbound. The mission, albeit important, paled in comparison to the magnetic pull you seemed to have.

Gathering intelligence on the enemy crew’s whereabouts seemed a trivial task to Law compared to the challenge of tearing his gaze away from you. You charmed the guests around you, soft laughter spilling from your lips as you feign interest in their rather vacuous jokes. It all seemed so effortless to you. As if in a trance, Law found himself setting down his champagne glass on the nearest counter, his feet making unconscious strides drawing him in your direction.

You stole a glance in his direction and noticed Law drawing nearer, seemingly with an urgent thought on his mind. The other guests, too, couldn’t help but notice his presence, their curiosity heightened by his sudden intrusion into your conversation.

“Excuse us for a moment,” Law simply said, his voice low, yet resolute as he grabbed your hand and led you away from the crowd. He offered a quick apology to the guests you were engaged in a conversation with, and you allowed yourself to be guided by him, confusion and anticipation filling you as you were whisked away.

He guided you with purpose, turning corner after corner until you reached a seemingly secluded area. You opened your mouth to speak, but before a single word could escape, his lips crashed against yours in an urgent kiss. His hands snaked around your waist, pulling you close as he deepened the kiss with such an intensity that you couldn’t even process what was going on. His lips were warm and insistent against yours, and you melted into his embrace.

Lost in the intoxicating feelings of the kiss, you forgot about the world around you, the mission being pushed in the depths of your mind as you are consumed by the sensation of Laws’s lips against yours. But just as quickly as it began, Law reluctantly pulled back, your ragged breaths mingling with each other as he gazed deeply into your eyes. “I just couldn’t resist,” he confessed, his voice filled with need, each word charged with an undeniable desire. “You look absolutely stunning tonight.”

“Law,” you began, your words breathy as you recovered from the previous kiss, “the mission, we need to get back to- mph!” He silenced you with another kiss. The way his lips moved against yours threatened to consume you entirely before you lightly pushed on his chest to separate the two of you.

“Don’t worry about the mission.” he muttered, placing a chaste kiss on your lips before continuing, “I’ve got the information we need.” His words were accompanied by the rapid thumping of his heart against your palm, mirroring the frantic beat of your own. “You look just so,” he started planting wet kisses down your neck as his hands danced down the sides of your body, pulling a small gasp from you as he gave your ass a firm squeeze. As his lips made their way back up to your ear, he finished his thought, “enchanting. You just look utterly enchanting, and I would like to take advantage of this.” You could practically hear the smirk in his words while he guided you backwards until your back made contact with the wall behind you. Law was certainly going to make it clear that nothing else mattered in that moment except the two of you.

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moonstruckme · 7 months ago

Note

If you don’t mind what about poly!marauders (emts version) x reader where she hides a injury that’s kinda serious (idk like a cut that’s pretty deep or smth) but she doesn’t think it’s serious, so she tries to hide it from them to not feel like a burden since they are always busy with work. Basically just a mix of emts marauders and casual dominance

Thanks for requesting lovely <3

cw: mention of blood

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You’re trying to figure out whether putting your shoe in the washing machine will damage it irrevocably when the bathroom door handle twists.

You look up like a deer caught in headlights. Sirius’ gaze flits from the shoe in your hand to the bloodstained sock on the floor to your wide-eyed look.

“Shut the door!” you whisper-yell. He must be reeling, because he actually does it, closing the door with a click and dropping down beside you on the bathroom floor.

“What’s going on?” he asks. Again, his gaze goes to your once-blue sock, now marred by a dark red stain. “Are you hurt?”

You see the moment Sirius notices the foot you’re holding, layers of toilet paper wrapped loosely around the arch. His eyes sharpen.

“Don’t tell James and Remus,” you plead.

“Are you hurt?” he asks again, sternly now.

Your lip finds it way beneath your teeth. “Not really,” you say. “It’s not terrible or anything, I just can’t get it to stop bleeding.”

“That’s not usually a great sign, sweetheart.” Sirius scoots closer, holding out his hands. “Let me see.”

You know better than to argue, transferring your foot into his lap. He gives you an odd look about the toilet paper before starting to unravel it, the thin material tearing under his rushed handling. Your boyfriend relaxes slightly when the wound is revealed. It’s deceptively small for how much blood seems to come out of it, the cut only a couple of centimeters along the arch of your foot.

Sirius adjusts his grip, lifting it to the light to see it better, and you try not to look so visibly flustered at the tender way he’s handling you.

“It’s little, see?” you say. “No need to bother anyone else.”

He lowers your foot to give you an amused look. “Darling, as much as I love to have our dirty little secrets together,” he says, “you know they’d kill me.”

“They wouldn’t,” you say, half desperate. “They love you, and I’ll protect you anyway.”

Sirius’ mouth pinches. He thumbs at your ankle apologetically. “James would have us both flat on our backs in under a minute. Admire your confidence, though.” He sucks in a breath. “Rem, James!”

The TV shuts off, and then there are footsteps on the stairs. Sirius is impervious to your glare, only picking your foot up again and turning it this way and that to see it better.

“What?” James calls. You can hear Remus grumbling about how your apartment is hardly large enough to necessitate this much yelling.

“In here!” Sirius shouts back.

The door opens a second later, your other two boyfriends crowding the already small bathroom. James is crouched in an instant, setting a hand on Sirius’ shoulder to steady himself.

“Oh, lovie, what’d you do?”

You open your mouth to respond, but Sirius says, “Can one of you grab the first aid kit and a pen light? I can’t see if there’s anything still in here.”

“There shouldn’t be,” you say as Remus goes for the kit. “I already took out the glass.”

Both Sirius and James look up from your foot, eyebrows raised.

“And what were you doing that you ended up with glass in your foot?” Sirius asks.

Your shoulders gravitate towards your ears. “Cleaning up the glass that I broke.”

Remus hums disapprovingly as he passes a pen light to Sirius, who clicks it on, shining it onto your foot. You do your best to pretend this doesn’t make you want to crawl out of your skin.

“When did that happen?” he asks.

“This morning.”

“Sweetheart.” James’ disapproval is evident in his voice. You can’t bring yourself to look up and witness it in his face, too.

“And why didn’t you say anything when you hurt yourself?” Remus asks. He sits down beside you, eyes on what the other two are doing though you can feel his attention on you.

“Because I didn’t want to bother you,” you say quietly.

He tsks, and he doesn’t need to say anything more. It’s plain enough you’re in trouble.

For a few moments, the silence is thick and hot, torturous, but surprisingly it's Sirius who does you the mercy of putting you out of your misery.

“It doesn’t look like you’ve got any more glass in here.” He clicks off the pen light, and your hamstrings sigh in relief as he lowers your foot to rest back in his lap. “That’s lucky,” he tells you severely. “You can’t always rely on just picking out the big piece and having that be that.”

“Stitches?” Remus asks, and you tense. You hadn’t even considered that.

“I don’t think so,” Sirius says, but he sounds uncertain. “It’s just barely deep enough, though.”

“Let’s see.” James holds out his hands, and Sirius hands it off to him. You try to ignore the fact that your foot is being passed around like something a child brought to show-and-tell. James takes up the pen light, peering at it for a few moments before nodding decisively. He pats the side of your foot. “I think you should be safe.”

You must look as relieved as you feel, because James smiles, squeezing up the length of your calf.

“What I really don’t understand,” he says lightly, “is why the hell you’ve been keeping it wrapped in toilet paper.”

You can’t help but return his smile sheepishly as you shrug. “It works,” you say. “Plus, Remus gatekeeps the first aid kit.”

“It’s only in the cabinet above the toilet,” Remus sighs.

Sirius scoffs, and James reaches across you to pat him on the thigh. “No one can reach it up there but you, love.”

You look over in time to catch your boyfriend’s eye roll, paired with the smirk he tries to hide. “Regardless,” he says, “it seems as though it wouldn’t be an issue if anyone who can’t reach it,” his eyes slide to yours, and you find new interest in the floor tiles, “would just ask someone else to get it for them, rather than being secretive.” You can feel his gaze searing into the side of your head, but you refuse to look up even when Sirius snickers and pinches your leg meanly. “If you didn’t have the kit, how did you clean it, dove?”

“It’s clean,” you hedge, but make the mistake of looking up into Sirius’ stern gaze. He cocks an eyebrow as if to say Go on. “I ran it under the tap in the bathtub.”

Remus sighs, Sirius groans, and James lets his head fall fully forward onto your knee.

“Sweetheart,” James presses a kiss to your shin, “my love, I know you mean well, but this is why you need to tell us things.”

“What’s the problem?” you ask as Remus moves to sit by Sirius, opening up the first aid kit. “Water’s just as good.”

“It’s really not,” Sirius says, “seeing as water doesn’t actually kill bacteria. Do you want to stay where you are or sit up on the counter, darling?”

“I’ve got a better idea.” James scooches over by you, lifting you by your waist and setting you in his lap. “There. Far more comfortable, don’t you think?”

“Much.” You grin, turning your head to kiss him. “Thanks, Jamie.”

“Spent a whole day keeping secrets and still getting the princess treatment.” Sirius’ tone is equal parts teasing and affectionate as he smooths a hand up and down your calf. “We must really love you or something.”

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weneeya · 8 months ago

Note

What about clingy gf!? Like the JJK boys with a girl who’s super clingy.

clingy girlfriend w/ jjk men pt.1 / pt.2 m.list | rules

note. thank you for your request! I love the idea of them with a clingy girlfriend omg hope you'll like what I've done! feel free to ask for stuff <3

Gojo Satoru

clingy himself so never complaining

always glued to each other

loves when you’re being clingy first

Satoru was sitting on the couch of your apartment, waiting for you to get ready. You just left to take a shower but it was taking longer than expected. He didn’t say anything though, giving you all the time you needed to make yourself even prettier than usual.

Suddenly, he felt arms coming from behind him, putting themselves around his neck. It was you, obviously, and soon your head was resting against his. A slight smile appeared on his lips before he rested his hand on your arm, stroking it softly.

“You’re okay?” he asked, not moving from an inch. You simply hummed as an answer, eyes closed like you were about to fall asleep. “Needed you,” you said in a low voice which made Satoru chuckled. You were so clingy, sometimes he wondered who was the worst between you and him. Even if you were probably on the same level. He knew he was acting just like this all the time.

“Come here,” he said, grabbing your hand to make you move from behind the couch to get in front of him. He made you sit on his lap and both of you stayed silent. You were like this all the time, and sometimes people wondered if you weren’t glued to each other. But you didn’t care, because you were both happy with the other being so clingy.

Geto Suguru

finds it adorable

thinks you’re so cutest when you ask for attention

always ready to give it to you

Suguru was currently reading a book, while you were sitting right in front of him in the library. You were sighing, again and again, because of how bored you were. Not only bored, but only missing some attention. You wanted your boyfriend to be taking care of you and not being busy with this stupid book which was apparently way more interesting than you.

You sighed once again, louder than the previous times, and Suguru raised his eyes from his book to look at you. He slowly raised an eyebrow, and the only answer you gave to him was a pout on your face. A smile appeared as he seemed amused by your behavior. He wasn’t stupid, he knew very well what was the problem here.

He put his book to the side, now completely focusing on you. You seemed a bit surprised, blinking a few times before you looked away, your face a little warmer than before.

“What? You have all my attention, isn’t it what you wanted?” he said, and you simply stammer some unintelligible words. He laughed softly and you looked back at him, before he took your hands between his. He guided them to his lips, leaving a kiss on the back of each of your hands. He always loved to give to you the attention you needed.

Nanami Kento

doesn’t really mind

if it makes you happy, then it’s good for him

never pushing you away

Kento was sitting at his desk, working on some very important papers that couldn’t wait any longer to be taken care of. It had been a few hours since he started to work and you were starting to miss him a bit too much. You knew he didn’t like to be disturbed when he was working, but you also knew that he wouldn’t tell you no either.

After knocking at the door, and hearing him telling you to enter, you got inside of the office. He was still working, not even looking at you when you arrived next to him. You looked at him, a sad pout on your lips.

“Kento, please..” you said, not explaining anything more. You knew he was going to understand what you meant. He simply put a bit more space between him and his desk, softly taping his thigh. You couldn’t help but to smile, coming on his lap in a second.

You rested here, against his chest, sitting on his lap while he was working. You didn’t need more than that, you just wanted to feel his warmth against you and to know that he was really here with you.

Toji Fushiguro

acts like it’s annoying, always complaining

secretly loves it

something feels off when you’re acting differently

You had been pushed away by your boyfriend, Toji, for the third time this week.You were a bit insecure all the time and his behavior towards your clingy habits wasn’t helping at all. He was always complaining when you tried to be close to him, and you were starting to think that he was hating it. So you decided to stop trying for the rest of the week.

He had been alone in the apartment for a long time, he started to realize it. It was weird, you would never leave him alone for so long usually. Something was feeling off, and he didn’t like that. You were sitting on the couch, reading a book in silence, when he entered the living room. His gaze rested on you, and he came closer with no hesitation. He cleared his throat and you raised your eyes to him.

“Mh? What’s wrong?” you said, and he raised his eyebrows. He couldn’t believe that you were really acting like it was normal. “Seriously? It’s been almost three hours since I saw you!” he answered, clearly annoyed by the situation. You frowned slightly, putting your book on the side.

“I thought you didn’t like me being clingy?” he sighed, shaking his head from left to right at your words. “It’s not that. Just, please, don’t stop. It’s weird.” you were a bit surprised by his words. You didn’t expect him to react this way. You tapped the place on the couch next to you, and he sat here. In a second, you were resting between his arms, a smile on your lips. Everything felt way better like this, for both of you.

Itadori Yuuji

always happy when you’re hugging him or clinging to him

makes him feel loved

almost starts to act like you

Yuuji was talking with Megumi and Inumaki, a smile on his lips as always. Everything seemed to be okay, as they were talking about Yuuji’s improvement, or stuff like that. Until you arrived behind him, giving him a back hug with no hesitation. You missed your boyfriend so much, even if you saw each other the day before.

When Yuuji felt you hugging him from behind, his smile grew even more, becoming as bright as ever. He rested his hands on your arms as your head peeked from behind his shoulder. “Hi guys,” you said, and they answered you in different fonts. You didn’t want to intervene in the discussion more than that, you just wanted to see your boyfriend because you missed him

Everyone was used to this : you were always close to Yuuji, no matter what could be happening. You just needed to be close to your boyfriend, feeling him close to you. It was like a vital necessity. And Yuuji was never complaining. He loved having you close, it just made him feel loved like he needed to. In the end, your relationship was working well this way.

Megumi Fushiguro

a bit embarrassed because not used to it

not as affectionate as you but doesn’t love you less

never complaining because he knows it makes you happy

You were outside with your boyfriend, Megumi, walking peacefully in the streets. You were talking about what you did during the week while he was silently listening to you, his eyes looking at your face from time to time.

While you were walking, you decided to grab Megumi’s hand in yours, holding it softly without saying anything about it; He looked at you, eyes wide, but didn’t let your hand leave his. He wasn’t the type of boyfriend to be very affectionate, you knew it ; and you were always reassuring him about the fact that it wasn’t a problem because you loved him for what he was.

He was always taken by surprise when you were being clingy in public with him, even if it was something discreet because you didn’t to make him feel uncomfortable. After calming his comprehension problems, Megumi simply blushed very discreetly, squeezing your hand so slightly but enough for you to feel it. He wasn’t as demonstrative as you, but he loved you just as much as you did with him.

I really love doing hcs like this it's really fun pls do not hesitate to ask for more stuff like this!!

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hhughes · 24 days ago

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៹࣪ ៸៸ 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐓 . . . ꒱꒱

in which Jack shows appreciation for all that you do, by doing you a favour.

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. jack hughes x athletic!trainer!reader. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. fluff. banter. 𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. just had this idea in my head and had to write it. who knows if I’ll do more with this pairing, maybe, maybe not. we’ll see. as always reblogs and feedback is appreciated and I hope you liked it <3

Working in professional sports means you’re exposed to attractive people most of the time. They’re professional athletes , it’s their job to keep their bodies in shape , and over time you get used to it. A six foot , fit, cocky man is much less appealing when you're surrounded by them twenty-four-seven. It helps that you get to see them in their lowest of lows. Snoring on the plane when they haven’t brushed their teeth in over 24 hours , wearing the same T-Shirt and sweatpants on the plane on every roadie , or when they take it a step further ( bc they’re overachievers ) and puke in your backseat when you pick their drunk asses up from a night out. That’ll teach you to become friends with co-workers.

So it surprises you every now and then when you hear people freak out about how attractive they are , or how lucky you were to be in their presence as often as you are. People in this case being your dad’s friends’ daughter.

“I gotta get a job like yours if I get to stare at that the entire time,” Amanda says from her position next to you in the box , her eyes focussed on Jack who stood outside the door talking to one of the building staff members. you resist the urge to let out a sigh and only send her a polite smile. You hold yourself back from wanting to give her advice because she probably wouldn’t take it into consideration anyway. It was challenging to get your job as one of the team’s assistant athletic trainers , but getting the job wasn’t necessarily the hard part. It was keeping the job , continuously proving that you deserve it.

“Thanks again for getting us up here sweetheart,” your dad says, taking the spot next to you when Amanda occupies herself elsewhere, and squeezing you tightly into his side. Your parents were both lifelong devils fans and actually met at a game. So it was only fitting that they would celebrate their thirtieth anniversary at the same place they met.

“Pass my thanks on to Jack too would you?” your dad says , knowing it was because of him that they were up there but before you could reply a smooth voice cut in from behind.

“No need for that sir , the box was gonna sit empty tonight anyway. I’m glad it’s being put to good use,” Jack cuts in and both you and your dad turn to look at him. He was clad in his game day suit , one you’ve seen many times now but it still managed to make your mouth run dry a bit.

Sir? you mouth at Jack, lifting your eyebrow in a teasing gesture and if you didn’t know him as well as you did you would’ve missed the slight lift in the corner of his lips, revealing his brief amusement before it fades away as he continues talking to your dad.

“You gonna get me a goal tonight? Break this little dry streak you're on” your dad jokingly asks as he shakes Jack’s hand and you gently nudge him.

“Dad,” you warn, knowing how hard Jack was on himself already about going pointless for a few games. You send Jack an apologetic glance but he just smiles in response. Usually it didn’t bother Jack when fans talked about his game. No one was more disappointed in him not performing than he was. And no one wanted to score more than he did.

But for some reason when someone close to you mentioned it, it struck a bit of a nerve. For some unknown reason Jack wanted nothing more than to play the best game of his career tonight and impress your dad. Maybe even impress you, but as he’s learned the last few months, that’s no easy task.

You’ve remained thoroughly unimpressed by just about anything and everything Jack Hughes has thrown your way. Which Jack isn’t afraid to admit, has hurt his ego quite a bit, but it’s also made him utterly fascinated by you.

“Should’ve worn my jersey. Give me a bit of extra luck,” Jack jokes and your dad lets out a slight laugh, patting the ‘C’ on his chest. Proudly wearing the devil’s Captain’s jersey.

“Well in that case you’ve got all the luck you need son. My wife is wearing your jersey — honey, come meet Jack! ” he yells at your mom and you feel your cheeks heat slightly in embarrassment, sending Jack another apologetic smile, and your heart warms at the sweet, easy going grin he gives you, and then your mom in greeting.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him make that much of an effort to keep small talk going as he did with your parents for the next ten minutes. Even going as far as telling your dad that whatever they were gonna order at the bar tonight should go under his tab. You practically had to drag him away when game time was nearing and he had to go.

“We really need to go. I’ll see you guys after okay?” you say hugging your parents goodbye and following Jack out the door.

“Go get ‘em sweetheart,” your dad yells after you, as if you were the one about to play, and Jack laughs softly when you shake your head in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry about them. They’re really excited to be here, as you can probably tell,” you say bashfully and Jack has the urge to stop in the middle of the hallway and just admire the blush of your cheeks. It’s not often that he gets to see you this laid-back, cheeks flushed, eyes practically lit up with happiness, foreshadows of your dimples, that he now knows comes from your mom, as you struggle to keep the smile off your face. Jack has always seen brief glimpses of this version of you, whenever they win a game, but it’s always there for a split second before you detach yourself and go into work mode.

And Jack is utterly obsessed with that version of you too. The one who doesn’t accept any shit from him or the guys. Who always seems to clean up everyone’s messes, on and off the ice, even if it’s not really in your job description. It’s not that Jack liked that version any less than this one, it’s just that his heart felt like it was going to explode because he’s the only one who has this little piece of you now. None of the other guys have seen you playfully roll your eyes at your dad’s jokes, or the fond smile you get on your face when your mom dotes on you. Only he has that.

“Don’t even worry about it. I wanted to meet them and I’m glad I did, they were awesome,” Jack says and you reach out and grab his bicep, bringing both of you to a standstill.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that. You made their night. My dad’s never gonna shut up about this,” you say, squeezing his arm softly and Jack reaches for your other hand, glancing left and right and making sure no one else is around as he intertwines your fingers.

“We don’t show you enough appreciation around here for everything you do for us. For me. This was my way of doing that,” Jack says, squeezing your hand softly and his lungs malfunction temporarily as you step closer and press a feather light kiss to his cheek.

“You’re sweet when you wanna be, you know.” you say, moving away from him and Jack immediately misses having you close to him.

“Right back atcha,” he says, nudging you softly.

The two of you walk in silence in the direction of the locker room for a bit before he breaks it again and when you hear the words come out of his mouth, you desperately wish he didn’t.

“So the girl that was in the booth with your parents? She related to you?” he asks casually and you squint at him suspiciously as he refuses to meet your eye.

“No. She’s just my dad’s friend’s daughter. Family friend,” you explain and Jack nods.

“She single?” Jack asks and you immediately scoff, your feet coming to a halt at his question and he stops right along with you, sending you a questioning gaze.

“Are you serious right now?” you question, trying to keep the obvious hurt and disgust out of your tone. You lean back against the hallway wall, sending him a glare and Jack grin as he makes his way closer to you, his hands going to either side of your head as he leans his head so close to yours you can feel his breath against your cheek.

“No, I'm not. I just think you’re hot as fuck when you’re mad, and I happen to know exactly how to push your buttons pretty girl,” Jack says, and your breath hitches as he presses a featherlight kiss to your cheek.

“But really though, is she single?” Jack asks with a shit eating grin and you can’t keep the smile off your face as you push him away lightly.

“Go you’re gonna be late and you’re gonna get me in trouble,” is the only response you give him

“Wouldn’t dream of it doc,” jack responds, shooting you a grin and giving you a wink as he makes his way towards the locker room.

“I’m not a doctor,” you yell the usual response after him, hoping it’ll stick one day.

#jack hughes x y/n #jack x at!reader #jack hughes x you #jack hughes fic #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes x reader #꒰ 🗄️ ꒱ — 𝓗hughes #꒰ 📂 ꒱ — 𝓗hughes -> fics

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slttygeto · 1 year ago

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"DON'T WANNA WAIT ON IT, TONIGHT I WANNA GET NASTY" | GETO. S

synopsis: on your night out with your boyfriend, you start feeling a little needy which results in him taking matters into his own hands. but after being rudely interrupted by his best friend, suguru knows exactly what to do with you.

content warning (so much omg): porn with a bit of a plot, fem! reader, established relationship, there's a bit of a dom/sub dynamic between reader and geto but it's not very obvious, dry humping, making out in the car, semi-clothed sex, sex on the couch, cunnilingus, blowjob, praise<3 lots of it, pet names (baby), dirty talk, suguru knows how to talk, size kink, fucking on satoru's couch, throat/face fucking, squirting, strength kink. heavily not proof-read (i was too tired) really, just grab your shower head.

word count: 3,5k

note: thank u for almost 9k followers! and most importantly, i need to get railed by this man. and very soon.

another note: my one and only @aurelianamu was the one to suggest the idea btw!!!

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

suguru loved you like this. when you were so horny and needy that no thought in your head was cohered, and all you cared about is having his cock inside you. the way you got flustered as you watched him drive, your face turning red and your breath catching in your throat when he fixed his pants or his shirt rode up a little to reveal the happy trail beneath the fabric. or how you immediately turned to look out of the window when he put his hand on your thigh, praying that he wouldn’t squeeze it.

suguru found it so amusing, how you were trying to act like none of it was affecting you but he could feel the way you were squeezing your thighs together, or shifting on the seat to grind your pretty clit against something, anything, even if it was the seat of his car.

which eventually resulted in him pulling the car over in a pretty dark area and ushering you to straddle his lap.

it wasn’t the most comfortable position, but you did not care—suguru’s lips are on yours. suguru was kissing you so good you were starting to feel dizzy, his hands were squeezing your thighs, your ass, your waist—and your were slowly starting to lose your mind at the electrifying feeling of his rough, big hands on your skin. he pulls away from your lips and kisses down your neck, smiling when you quickly melt on top of him and your hands are shakily placed on his shoulders, squeezing them to let him know he was making you feel so good (although your sounds were making it pretty obvious).

you start moving your hips back and forth on his crotch, and despite being pretty out of it and dizzy, you smile when you hear the muffled groan of your lover, his lips pausing at a certain spot on your neck before switching to his teeth.

he pulls away from your neck and stares at your hips, at loss for words at the way you swiftly roll them back and forth on his pretty visible bulge and he sighs, a hand gripping your side before staring up at you—your flushed face and fucked out look.

“fuck, you’re so sexy.” he whispers under his breath and lets his other hand find your other side, squeezing hard enough to make you pull up your shirt for him to see your skin. “that’s right, that’s it baby.” his praise sends tingles down to your pussy, and you think to yourself that there’s no way you were going to cum like this—in your clothes, in suguru’s car in some random place he found. but it was happening, and the realization that you were going this far just because you were horny for your lover seems to soak your panties even more.

but the moment is short lived when suguru’s phone starts pinging. once, then twice and then the sound of notifications is louder than your moans and your lover’s groans, and it’s hard to ignore it now. you huff a little when he reaches for his phone on the front board of his car and his eyes squint in annoyance trying to see who could possibly need him right now.

of course it’s his best friend.

gojo

dude

gojo

dude i left in a hurry this morning for a mission and i kinda dont know if i turned off the stove or not

gojo

you live pretty close could you pleaseeee go check on it for me?

gojo

ill pay you

gojo

actually i wont but pls go check it cause im really far away from home

suguru sighs out loud and leans back on the head rest of the seat. he sees your disappointed stare along with your flushed cheeks and brings a hand up to your face, thumb caressing your jaw before tracing your lips.

“sorry baby, we’re gonna have to start driving.”

“was it satoru?” your immediate and correct guess on who could possibly interrupt such a great moment has your lover smiling to himself before placing a hand behind your head and pulling you closer to him. he kisses you sweetly, tries not to deepen it but when you whine against his lips and pull away, he almost says fuck it and pushes his seat back to fuck you on all fours.

“it must be urgent,” you say against his lips before shuffling back to your seat. “come on, lets go.”

suguru hates when you’re this disappointed and sad, he wishes he could tell satoru he didn’t see the messages and take you to the back seats of the car to fuck your brains out. but he knows that satoru knows him too well, and that there’s no way he didn’t see the messages.

he starts the car and on the way there, suguru comes up with an idea. he doesn’t share it with you, knowing that you would immediately shut it down and flat out refuse. so he waits until you two get there to share his plan with you, knowing very well that a simple kiss and grinding his painful bulge against your core would easily make you give in to it.

—

when you arrive to satoru’s place, you feel tired, worn out. you and suguru did absolutely nothing beside dry humping, but having it be interrupted so suddenly made your mood drop a bit too hard. you stand in the living room of the strongest himself, looking at the various framed pictures of himself and your lover through every single ugly, awkward and embarrassing phase of their lives and it’s heartwarming.

but one thing you can never get used to is how expensive satoru is. you forget that he swims in money, and so his apartment was a duplex that reeked of opulence, with furniture that probably cost more than your yearly income. you try not to touch anything and choose to stand next to the couch while your boyfriend checks the house to see if his best friend did indeed leave anything on.

“he needs to put cameras here or something,” you say when you see your boyfriend approach the living room with a relaxed stance, hands in his pockets.

“hm, why?”

“it’s pretty fancy, you don’t think he could get robbed?” suguru smiles at your worry and places a hand on the back of your head before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“i’m pretty sure anyone who thinks it’s a good idea to rob satoru is stupid.” it doesn’t ease your worry but you decide to let go of it.

“well, if everything is safe then let’s go.” suguru’s hand doesn’t leave the back of your head. instead, it travels down to the small of your back and pushes you closer to him, your chests flushed against one another.

“we’re not in a hurry baby, and we were in the middle of something before coming here.” you freeze when you realize what he was insinuating and your hands immediately go up to his chest, in hopes of making him realize what he was suggesting in the first place.

“baby… we’re in satoru’s house,” you laugh nervously, hoping that the mention of his best friend's name snaps something in him-- but you don’t try to push him away, the arousal that you felt in the car coming back in strong waves when you notice the lustful stare of your boyfriend.

“and? satoru is not here,” his other hand rests on the back of your thigh and travels up to your ass, squeezing the flesh. “I left my baby hanging,” he leans down and brushes his lips against your quickening pulse. “you were so close in the car, I’m sure I can make you cum quickly, yeah?”

normally, you wouldn’t have agreed to this, to being fucked stupid on satoru’s expensive camel leather couch in his living room. you would’ve pushed your boyfriend’s head away from between your thighs and told him how absolutely insane all of this was. normally, you wouldn’t be this fucking horny to begin with.

but you were, and it was stopping you from thinking straight.

suguru on his knees was already enough to make you drool, but the way he had pushed your skirt up and gripped your thighs before diving into your pussy—you were starting to think all of this was a dream. but when you looked down and locked eyes with an eager looking suguru, tonguing at your clit before sliding his nose over the sensitive bud and dipping his tongue past your folds, you felt how real all of this was.

you were a mess, chest heaving and hands not knowing what to hold onto. they rest on your boyfriend’s shoulders but you quickly retreat them when he starts sucking on your clit so good, your back arches off of the couch.

“oh—“ you buck up your hips but suguru easily pins you back down with a single hand. “oh god.” you sigh and throw your head back, hands gripping onto the couch.

your boyfriend looks up once again, and he has to hold himself back from fisting his cock at the sight of you—a fucked out mess from his mouth. your hair was everywhere, and your lips looked swollen from his kisses. you don’t seem to notice the way he’s staring at you, solely focused on the way he’s sucking on your clit and he chuckles. he does and watches your eyes roll to the back of your head, so fucking pretty.

you try to fuck yourself on his tongue, grinding on his mouth for any sort of relief. your could taste your orgasm, it was at the tip of your tongue and when suguru pins you down to the couch with his strong hands, watching his arms flex is what sends you over the edge.

“that’s right, baby come on,” his praise makes you whine out loud. “come on baby, let that pussy make a mess on me.”

you cum on suguru’s tongue with a mixture of a cry and a whine, toes curling and your thighs shaking as you try to come down from your orgasm. each kiss your boyfriend presses to your clit as you let your orgasm wash over you sends a jolt through your body, and right when you think he’s done, he’s standing up and the visible bulge in his pants makes your mouth water.

you expect him to free his cock from his pants, and the eager look on your face makes him chuckle.

“what? you want this?” his hand palms his cock and you nod, hands resting on his thighs as his bulge is now at eye level with you. “this is what you’ve been wanting all night, right baby?” his hand rests at the top of your head, and your chest swells with something when you look up at him and find him staring down at you, looking so proud. butterflies dance in your stomach as you hold eye contact with him, your hand tracing his bulge with delicate fingers.

“go on, kiss it,” your hands start to unbuckle his belt but his quiet “ah, ah” makes you halt your movements.

“kiss it through the pants baby, I don’t think you’re ready to have it yet,” you don’t try to protest, fingers grabbing his thighs before pressing a kiss to his bulge. you drag your tongue over the fabric of his pants until you reach his belt. you push up his shirt and kiss his stomach before sliding your tongue over the same happy trail that almost drove you crazy earlier that night.

“one more baby,” his hand rests under your chin and tilts up for you to look at him. you kiss the bulge again, and again and again. you hear suguru chuckle from above and his hand caresses your throat for a bit.

you watch with eager eyes as his hand starts to unbuckle his belt and you rest your hands on the back of his thighs, patiently waiting for him to throw the belt somewhere before you’re unzipping his pants and freeing his cock from its confines. you hold his heavy in your hand, stroke it a couple of times before kissing the angry tip.

“fuuuck, look at you,” his hand goes back to your neck and squeezes it. “not so worried about satoru finding out anymore, hm?” the lazy grin he flashes you makes you shift on the couch and you’re suddenly aware that you’re grinding your pussy against satoru’s couch.

you shake your head and tap the tip of his dick on your lips and then wrapping them around the sensitive head. you pull away from his cock completely before kissing the base of his cock, the sight of you appreciating his cock with kisses and licks makes suguru place a hand on top of your head.

“shit, baby,” you lick all the way from the base up to the tip before pushing his cock inside your mouth. your hand wraps around the rest of his cock and you start to bob your head at a slow pace, your smaller fingers trying their best to stimulate all of his cock. suguru looks absolutely breathtaking from this angle.

his hair was sticking to his forehead and he had his shirt pull all the way up, holding it in place with his hand. his hips buck towards your mouth a few times and you gag each time, pulling away from him to breathe only to wrap your mouth around him not only five seconds later. he wishes he could find your eagerness amusing, but he finds it hot. he can feel his thighs tingling and the drool that’s trickling down to his balls makes the sight of you sucking him off on his best friend’s couch even hotter.

“yeah, just like that,” he sighs and throws his head back. his eyes flutter shut and you take it as a sign to go faster, your other hand finds his balls and you carefully start to fondle them, you hollow your cheeks and bob your head faster.

“fuck baby, mhm,” he looks down at you and finds you staring up at him, flashing you a smile that reaches up to his flushed cheeks. “god, I could fall in love all over again.”

you let go of his balls and slowly let go of his base before bracing yourself on his thighs. suguru watches as you inhale before pushing his entire cock down your throat, gagging and then pulling away.

“b-baby,” he chokes out, his hand finding the back of your head. you repeat the same motion once, and then twice and the faster you got, the harder it was for suguru to have complete control over himself.

“breathe in for me,” his hands grab your face and you do as he tells you, closing your eyes as you brace yourself for the contact. suguru starts fucking your face at a slow pace, but it picks up when he hears the sound of your throat being absolutely destroyed. you gag on him a couple of time and there’s drool on your lap and on the couch, but you don’t let it stop you from nuzzling your nose against suguru’s pubes.

your boyfriend chokes out a few curse words as he cums down your throat, and when he pulls away, his hands are all over your neck, caressing it and praising you for taking him so well. you cough a few times and there’s tears running down your cheeks, but you still manage to flash your tall lover a drunken smile and your hand finds its way towards his very sensitive cock.

“baby—“ he tries to protest, his eyes squeezing shut.

“more suguru,” you kiss the tip and he almost falls over. “I want more. if we’re gonna do it on satoru’s couch, might as well make it worth it, yeah?”

you were the devil, and suguru who usually bragged about how hard it is for anyone to trick him was easily falling in your trap.

he towers over you on the couch and kisses you so roughly you’re pushed back on the couch. your legs wrap around his middle and your arms find his neck, and you can’t deny how good it feels to have suguru’s big body covering you whole with so much ease.

his cock quickly hardens from you two making out, and when you feel it poke your thigh, your hand reaches down to stroke it and your thumb grazes the tip.

“you’re having too much fun,” he whispers against your lips and you giggle, but it quickly dies down when he pushes past your wet folds with so much ease. you don’t need time to adjust, but the force in which he was fucking you with knocks the wind out of your lungs.

“satoru will never find out what we did on his couch,” he says, out of breath. “he will never know that I ate this weeping pussy so good on his couch,” his hand then finds your neck and squeezes with a lazy grin. “or that I’m fucking it stupid while he’s away on a mission,”

each word goes straight towards your pussy, your brain seems to stop functioning because you stop responding to your boyfriend and your lips are parted in pleasure. his thrusts are getting rougher and sloppier, and he presses a hand on your stomach with an eager grin.

“if you’re gonna cum on me again, might as well make it messy.” you don’t understand what he means at first, too lost in the feeling of your approaching orgasm on your fingertips. but when it washes over you in violent waves and small cries and suguru fails to pull away from you, but chooses to press harder on your stomach, you start to panic.

“suguru—“ you choke out a sob when the tip of his cock keeps abusing the same spot and over again. “suguru, it’s too much—!”

“you can take it,” his voice is low and his eyes are fixated on the way your squelching pussy seems to not want to let go of him. “just one more baby, okay? one—“ he sighs out and his pace falters for a second but he finds eagerness once again when he sees your head thrown back and hears the cries of pleasure.

he pushes your legs up to your chest and presses them there as he pounds into you with all of his strength. the couch starts moving with each monstrous drive of his hips, and your eyes widen when you feel something down there.

“suguru wait—“ your hands try to push at his shoulders. “m-messy, it’s gonna be messy!”

“good,” he keeps fucking into you and pins you down to the couch with his weight. “come on, I know this pussy can make a mess,”

your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel his pelvis rub down on your clit, and along with the tip of his cock incessantly abusing that sensitive spongy spot, your body finally lets go and you let the earth shattering orgasm wash over you in shaky waves and a loud cry.

suguru curses under his breath when he feels you spray him with hot liquid but he doesn’t stop and continues to fuck into you until he empties himself inside you with a groan before pulling away from you, afraid to hurt you by plopping himself on top of you.

it takes you a good minute to catch your breath, and suguru caresses your stomach snd thighs, soft praises fill the air before you can finally look him in the eye with a less hazy mind.

“hi baby,” he says softly, a hand resting on your stomach.

“hi,” you reply in a voice barely above a whisper and he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” you don’t say anything and let him lift you up and carry you to one of satoru’s guest bathrooms.

despite feeling drowsy, your earlier concern resurfaces at the top and when you jolt as your boyfriend sits you on the toilet seat, he quickly expresses his worry about hurting you.

“did I hurt you?”

“are we gonna clean satoru’s couch before we leave?”

suguru stares down at you in amusement but answers you anyway.

“I’ll get a cleaner baby, you don’t worry that pretty head, okay?” you hum in response. there’s silence for a moment before you speak up again.

“that poor cleaner,” you say sleepily, head resting on suguru’s stomach. “give him a tip, okay?”

your boyfriend stifles a laugh and pats your head.

“yeah baby, no problem.”

—

two days later, you’re laying in bed with your boyfriend, watching a random show on TV before his phone starts pinging again. you both lock eyes before he's checking who's texting him. and lo and behold,

gojo

SO YOU DID TAKE MY OFFER

gojo

i told you my couch is comfortable

gojo

but damn getting a cleaner for it???? you two sure got comfortable

suguru shows you the messages exchanged between himself and his best friend and he laughs when your face still turns a red color.

“I told you he wouldn’t mind.”

“no! he knows we’re messy!” your boyfriend pulls you on top of him and his hand lands on your ass with a harsh smack.

“you mean filthy,”

“not the point!”

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

#moon's works #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto smut #jjk smut #geto x y/n #suguru geto #geto suguru x reader #geto x you #jujutsu kaisen getou #geto x reader #geto x reader smut #jjk getou #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu geto #jujutsu kaisen geto

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cckaisen · 8 months ago

Text

୨ৎ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 𝓑𝓡𝓞𝓣𝓗𝓔𝓡 𝓕𝓤𝓒𝓚𝓔𝓡, sukuna ryomen !

boyfriend’s older brother!sukuna. while little bro yuji spits up his liquor in the bathroom, sukuna takes care of his girl, finally fucking her like she deserves.

ಇ. summary. sukuna brother au, fem reader, infidelity, yuji throws up so emeto. warning, manipulation, pussy slapping, biting, some predator/prey elements, size kink, dumbification, squirting, reader is intoxicated but aware, rough kuna but he switches up:3, regret/moral conflict, angst towards the end cuz ‘m a certified yapper. wc, 4.6k.

ಇ. note. been a whore for sukuna lately but i fully blame gege for drawing him so majestic. if evil then why gorgeous, hm??? we’re onto u gege. we know u love a felon. confess already.

the door to the itadori household bursts open and in floods a typhoon of drunken chaos and laughter.

drowning in giggles, yuji has his arm thrown over your aching shoulders, humming along to some kind of song. without you, he wouldn't be upright—a jumbling, intoxicated mess.

you're mostly sober, fighting to get him to the bathroom since he was heaving in the taxi.

"whyyy do ya build me upp~" he slurs, a bumbling flurried version of himself, smothering your cheek in wet kisses that have you wriggling away. "butterrrcuppp baby, jus' t'let me downnn...!"

"yuji!" you shriek, the weight of him growing more unbearable as you try to keep him up. his breath is drenched with the heavy scent of liquor. "baby, y'gotta focus or we're not gonna make it to the—"

"—and mess m'rounddd!"

"yuji—'nuff!" you groan loudly as he drapes himself over. at this rate, you might just collapse into a heap on the floor, overcome by his weight as well as the lesser, still relevant amount of alcohol you consumed at the club.

suddenly, the patter of footsteps have you perking up. sukuna—yuji's big brother—rounds the corner, gaunt features sharp with agitation. he must've woken up when the two of you came barreling in.

"sukuna—hi," you can't help the relief that bursts through your chest, evident in the way you exhale.

sukuna notes the way your knees tremble, his brother blabbering embarrassingly on top of you. he puts aside the urge to laugh, figuring he'd spare you just this once.

"here. i got 'im." without any trouble, sukuna drags his little brother under his arm, putting your strength to shame. with the weight lifted, you finally have chance to relax, rolling your arm and letting out a loud sigh of relief.

"thank you. ow—pain."

you stumble, and the broader of the two brothers chuckles, crimson gaze soaking up your body in that dress while you're distracted. "you carried him all the way home?"

"mhm. practically sprawled out on my lap in the taxi. the driver and i had to team up to get him outta there," you whine as you kick off your heels. those stupid things had you wincing terribly most of the night. yuji said they were sexy. as much as you love him, you’re more than sure you will not be wearing them again anytime soon.

"you should've called me." sukuna's features scrunch in disgust as yuji keeps singing in his hold.

"i-i-i neeeeed youu~"

"fuckin' a, did he drink the whole bar?"

"pretty much," you reply, shrugging off your coat and following behind the pair of brothers. yuji looks so funny, almost small despite his lean stature, looking deceivingly short compared to sukuna. "he made a bet with todo and lost."

the sober man grunts as he knocks open the bathroom door, holding up yuji in his other arm. his muscles flex underneath his shirt, stretching the dark cotton, where your eyes briefly linger.

you avert your attention to yuji instead, amusement melting into concern for your boyfriend.

not sharing the same sentiment, sukuna drops him down by the toilet, putting up the lid with a smack and purposely shoving yuji's head into the bowl a little harder than necessary. "theree ya go, dumbass," sukuna grunts, slapping his back as he finally pukes up. "just barely made it."

and you're sure glad he did, thanking the gods your dress had been spared amidst the drama. with the way he'd been acting, you were never sure that you would be safe from the bile climbing his throat, cringing fearfully at times.

you feel much better now that sukuna has taken over. he's older, well-versed in trivial matters like this. yuji's already told you all about his university days, the drunken nights, the fighting—

you curse your thoughts for sprawling so suddenly, shooing off your rodent-like curiosity.

their relationship struggled at times. especially so back then, but things are different now. and as much as sukuna pretends not to care for his little brother, he clearly does, at least a little. after all, the pink tresses of your boyfriends hair are ruffled in his thick hand before he lets go fully.

then sukuna walks on in a rugged stride, leaving yuji to it. on the way out, he knocks your shoulder with his. you can't tell if the action was playful, but you’re sure it wasn't hostile, at least. a little smile creeps onto your lips as your gaze follows him into the kitchen.

sukuna is weird.

he's weird because he's not like yuji in most ways; it's not necessarily a bad thing, but he's much, much harder to see through. with your boyfriend, most things are crystal clear. you can tell what he wants, what he needs, how he needs it. he'll tell you all about it—unselfishly, of course.

however, sukuna, you find, never reads so easily. and it's weird. you can't tell if you prefer it that way, or if you'd rather know what he's thinking.

especially since you're certain you just caught his eyes slithering along your curves.

anyway.

wanting to give yuji some privacy, you pull the door shut, the sound of his gags growing muffled. you half-jog-half-limp to the kitchen, preparing a glass of cold water to ease his throat once it's all over.

unbothered, sukuna leans his back against the counter, scrolling on his phone like this is just another night to him. it's weird.

you start wondering, drawing up the conclusion that this might be first time you and him have ever been alone, in a way. yuji is there, but not really, if you know what i mean. not mentally, anyway.

before you can finish that thought, you deliver the glass to yuji, crouching down to his level and rubbing his back with careful affection. "got you some water, baby. right here, by your hand." you take it gently, guiding it towards the glass.

he's not throwing up so much now, just laying there, waiting for the next wave of nausea to crash over him. his fingers respond to the glass, wrapping around it. "thanks, hic—y're so good t'me..."

you smile warmly, pressing a kiss to his warm cheek. you couldn't care less that he reeks of all kinds of concoctions and puke all rolled up together, wanting to be there for him regardless as you know he would for you.

you whisper a few more reassuring words to him before taking your leave, giving him some time to recover by himself. the bathroom door clicks shut. forgetting all about the third party, you let your back press against it, head jilting as a sigh slips out.

"he worn ya down that much?" sukuna snorts at the display, looking up from his phone.

despite your initial surprise, you laugh too. "he doesn't usually. it's just... been a busy night, i guess. i think he'll pass out in there."

sukuna briefly dips his head into the fridge, getting out a chartreuse-tinted bottle of something. "one would hope. you want one?"

"you're being weirdly nice." you blurt suspiciously, smirking. oh god. maybe the alcohol was starting to work you over, too, because you definitely weren't supposed to say that. sometimes it's better not to ask, someone told you once.

sukuna pulls a face that makes you wish you could crawl out of your skin on command, even though there's technically logic behind your last words.

"am i usually mean?"

"n-no, i just mean—" fuck, stop talking. with growing embarrassment, you shake your head, "nothing. sorry. that was assumptive."

the way you initially scrambled to answer appealed to some wicked humor in him as he laughed. "yeah, it was. so yes or no?"

"yes," you sigh, shoulders slumping in admission, knowing you probably needed it. especially after whatever that was. your head is pounding—god, someone should put me down.

sukuna opens up your bottle with his teeth as you hop up on the counter, watching each other. all had gone quiet behind you. sukuna handed you the drink with the lid still between his teeth, venom swirling in his eyes when he saw the way yours lingered on the gesture.

slowly, you took the bottle, pressing the rim up to your lips before taking a sip. it bubbles in your mouth, sparkling on your tongue before you swallow it down. the burn is a little unpleasant, but you manage.

"any good?" sukuna asks.

"'s okay," you shrug, reading the bottle, pretending like any of it made sense. "a little bitter."

"you like 'em sweet?" the taller man frowns, sorting through the cupboards for something that you're too immersed to ask about.

"kinda. but too much makes me sick," you explain, scrunching your nose at the thought. "i like a balance."

"oh, really?" sukuna snorts as if you've just said the funniest thing in the world.

in one confused motion, you lower your brows. and jilt your head, wondering what's with the sudden jest. "yeah, uh... is that funny?"

sukuna raises his brows, shaking his head, some glasses clinking. "no, not funny. nothin's funny."

he really knows how to make a person feel small, you'd give him that much.

you avert your gaze, heart crawling up into your cheeks. "okay, well..."

"what about you?" he interjects, sparking up another tiny bit of annoyance in you again. not that you knew what you were gonna say anyways. it most likely would've been embarrassing anyway, making you shrink even more, wanting yuji to come out already—

"what about me?" you wonder, your voice meeker than before. curious and cautious, tip-toeing around his words. is there something you're hiding?

"are you the sticking-around or screwing-around type?"

"oh, right," you laugh, making sense of his question. it's big one, though. kind of sprung on you. still, you manage to respond, just telling him what you know while glowing with intoxication, "well, we've only been going out a couple months."

you're more focused on the way he's watching you than you are on actually answering. his eyes are sharp and torrid in comparison to his little brother's, and the way he gazes down rather than looks at you has something in you stirring, writihing hotly beneath your skin.

it's exciting. why is it exciting? there's a giddiness that gyres in the pit of your gut like a ballerina, pirouettes and grands jetés, heat cooking and simmering through your veins. it's terrible. it's weird.

"well, you can't blame me for being protective." sukuna shrugs. "he seems to really like you."

while what he's saying rings true, there's a chord slightly off-key, something askew that you can't place. is he closer than before?

you ignore it, trying on a smile. "well, feeling's mutual."

you take another sip from the bottle, the cool rim settling on your lips, sparks igniting on your tongue, the same routine replaying. you don't even think before adding gleefully, "and he's like, a jazillion times more sane than my last boyfriend, so i'm happy."

"are you?" sukuna asks, serious.

it was like flipping a switch. he was laughing, now he's earnest, and you were just entirely confused, his meaning lost on you, like you're the last in line in a game of chinese whispers. he caught you off guard with that one. and he knows it, too, carmine eyes feasting on your discomfort.

your smile falters slightly before you nod. "yeah."

"okay." he just says.

now you were really starting to get pissed off with him. whatever he's doing, it's stupid. he might as well have you cornered, except you've done nothing wrong, and yet he's prancing around you with a tone of prolific doubt. as if he knows something about you that you yourself don't.

"what?" you demand, equally serious now, smile wiped clean off. the air turns thick.

sukuna shrugs his shoulders again and you swear you have to fight off a sneer. "nothing."

is he casting doubt on your love for yuji? is that what this is? is he trying to tell you you're not good enough for him? that even though you trudged half a mile in those huge stupid heels just because he said they looked hot on you—carrying his dead weight, might i add, as he was screeching a song you'd never heard in your ear—that all of that was just for laughs, and there were no real feelings behind those actions? is that seriously what he's getting at?

sukuna wants to laugh so bad. your face is all screwed up, cheeks puffed out and burning a deep red. oh, how it fuels him. your stubbornness, that endearing naivety that clings to you like all your modest perfumes, the one that lingers in yuji's room, occasionally in his clothes, infecting every dark corner of his mind—and now you know how it feels to be tortured by him.

"you want some water?" the man asks casually. your mind is on fire, your thoughts more blaring than you would probably think. it's written all over you.

his question makes your shoulders drop, feeling stupid all over again. what are you getting so worked up for? you're secure in your feelings for yuji. as his brother, sukuna has every right to feel concern for him. there really is no need for you to be acting like this.

he's playing you like a damn flute.

"yes, please." you answer a lot more softly, pulling your hair around to one side. you'd been bratty without cause, assumptive, again. you really need to stop mischaracterizing him. after all, he's no monster. "i think all the drinks are finally getting to my head a little."

he starts filling up a glass, grinning at you over his shoulder, mischief playing in his slanted-eyes. "oh, don't tell me you were expecting anything bottled. tap's the best y're gonna get from us. hope you can handle it."

a smile works onto your lips as you finally start to loosen up again, legs swinging gently off the side of the counter. playing along, you wince. "oh yeah, well, i usually only drink expensive, you know, mineral-rich—"

"yeah."

he's suddenly between your legs, his mouth devouring your own, swallowing the terrified noise that begs to escape. for a moment, you're frozen in shock, eyes widening as you palms meet his chest in a forceful attempt at creating space.

sukuna juts back, forced away from you. his eyes crack open but are still like slits, dark, crawling with lust you hadn't previously noticed—no, acknowledged, because the choice has always been there.

he relishes in the terror that brims in your eyes at his visceral kiss. it feels natural, but not in the tender, motherly sense. like predator devouring prey. the natural order of life.

his hands are hot, gripping onto your thighs, digging into the tights he could easily rip to shreds, giving him full access to your warm cunt, to ruin you.

and yet he doesn't.

he waits for your eyes to droop, for you to lunge at him, accepting this twisted spiral of events, indulging his darkness. teeth clicking, tongues meeting messily in a sloppy kiss, drool gathering between you both as you crash together all at once, a train wreck of carnality. sukuna's hands are all over you, groping, slashing at the crotch of your tights. you gasp into his mouth as cold air meets the sobbing wetness of your cunt, followed by a slap to it.

"f-fuck! hey, who said you could—hmff!" you yelp as his hand clamps over your mouth suddenly, his scarlet eyes narrowing.

"brat, watch ya fuckin' mouth." sukuna warns as you grapple with him. his tattoos look especially menacing then, chiseling his features. "he's drunk. not deaf."

you nod, trying to tell him you understand. he releases your lips in an instant only to seize them again in his so forcefully.

yuji would never—could never take you like this, and you fucking know it. you know it with every gnaw, every squash of your tits that leaves you whining like a bitch in heat, every bite against your neck where you can feel the outline of his brother's teeth and a short gush of crimson.

rationality is lost on you as you mindlessly rut against him, your hands running up and down his back until you start tugging on his pants, eager to rid him of them.

meanwhile, sukuna's making a meal out of you—you make up half of his size, giving him complete control to do as ever he pleases.

every whine is met with a grunt. his cock must have been freed at some point as you feel his greedy hands lift you against him, your chests meeting, the sharp cold of the counter leaving your ass and feeling his palms spread you apart instead.

nothing could prepare you for the suddenness of which he fills you—you scream, half openly, half having shoved your face into his shoulder—aware his brother, your lover, is passed out over the toilet in the other room.

"shh, shh—fuckin' shit!" sukuna groans, features curling in erotic bliss.

he gluts you in ways yuji never has, the ways he'll never dare—with such cruel, carnal demand, to the brim, unkind, violent, and so, so fucking good.

as he breaches your womb, you claw his back raw through his shirt. a sob rips through you. sukuna does his best to keep you quiet. "shh... fuck. yer so fuckin' tight, girl. relax."

"t-tryin'... 'm so full..." you whine, eyes misting over with tears. it feels too good, you think...

"i know—" sukuna chokes, barely lifting you up on his cock, feeling your walls spasm around him. "fuck, what ya cryin' for?"

he feels too good.

"d-don't move yet, i'll cum," you gasp, and he hasn't even tried—sukuna's expression blanches.

"already?" he bursts out laughing in his brutish way, the side that yuji lacked entirely as the nicest person you've ever known; fuck. the humiliation makes your cunt squeeze again.

he lifts you up, your knees draped over his thick arms, foreheads meeting. your breaths intertwine, hot and treacherous, caressing each other's faces.

"ya know, i've fuckin' heard you, all those times."

"wh-what?" you stammer cluelessly, only half there, clinging to sukuna as he dangles you on his cock, your eyes crossing when he starts to bounce you on him.

"said i fuckin' heard you, you 'n yuji—'n shit, ya never got this loud, huh?" he smirks wickedly, feeling your body collapse hopelessly against him. he fucks you up and down on him, swallowing up your pathetic moans and whines like they were the last noise he'd ever hear. "been wanting to take ya like this, stretch yer dumb little cunt on me, fuckk—ya got no fuckin' idea, princess."

rocking up and down, you wail, head bobbing. sukuna can just see your little maw dangling open—it takes everything in him not to jam his fucking fingers in your throat until you drool and splutter around him.

"y—you wanted—this?" you struggle, feeling too good to make sense of anything, to think straight, to do anything other than take every rough kiss to your cervix, feeling your insides bruise and swell with lucid excitements.

"lemme guess, the brat cums too soon—never quite gets ya there, hm?" sukuna guesses correctly, making you whine and nod and babble.

"h-how did y—ah, fuck—!" he snapped his hips, picking up the speed as you wept on him. you'd never been fucked like this in your life, and your world was getting flipped on its head. when did your dress come down? you weren't sure—but now your tits were bouncing and sukuna wasn't gonna pass up the opportunity to tear into them.

"cuz, 's just obvious," sukuna rasps, teeth clamping down on your raised nipple, "can tell this sloppy pussy ain't gettin' treated right. not when she's—shit—creamin' all over me jus' from stickin' it in."

"'k—kuna, don't—ahh! fuck!"

"that's it girl, shit, c'mon," sukuna keeps picking you back up only to drop all your weight on his fat cock, his balls slapping against your ass, the slick you're gushing causing them to stick together.

your head is empty, devoid of anything except the chaos, the suddenness of it all, the shock, he's fucking you. your boyfriend's older brother is fucking you, and you've never felt so goddamn good.

there's this sudden wave. a wetness. an explosive feeling that crashes over you in one swift, predatory pounce. like when a deer gets suddenly ripped apart. your head straight up drops on sukuna's shoulder, and you're sobbing loudly, babbling words that can't be defined.

then all of a sudden, sukuna outright cackles; the sound bleeds into your ringing ears, head picking up off of his shoulder.

"no fuckin' way!" he roars with laughter. you wanna shush him, but you can't move—your nerve ends are all bursting to life, like fruitful grapes popping between two fingers. it's happening again, whatever that feeling is, whelming you; this time you his fingers rub back and forth harshly across your clit, but wait—

"dumb lil pussy's squirtin' already, hahh, shit—fuckin' christ, girl—" he's enamored, watching you cum in adorable little spurts, soaking his clothes, your tights, and the kitchen floor, covering everything in your stupid juices.

"you wanted this, goddamn—look at you."

your eyes are rolled back as he kisses you again, fingers tearing into your scalp, the lewd sound of your lips smacking together filling the air.

never in your fucking life. you'd never came like that, so violently, so carelessly, not without really, really trying. all sukuna had to do was pump you up and down on his cock, say a few words and you were spraying like a tap. how fucking pathetic.

and then he does it again. drags another one out of you, laughing.

you barely catch his next words.

"'m gonna fuckin' cum in ya."

"n—no—" you stumble out, barely coming to at the words, but their enough to fill you with at least some urgency. your ass is bruised at the back from being repeatedly slammed against the counter, the wind knocked out of you entirely. "d-don't, wait, you can't—"

"why the fuck not, hah?" sukuna rumbles. "don't tell me it's cuz'a—"

"—yuji," you sob.

it hits you. it hits you then, hard, at the worst time. a gut-punch, one that makes you heave. in less than half a second, a guilt strong enough to set your skin alight cultivates and wrecks each single sense. his cologne invades your nostrils, an imaginary sensation, forced to breathe its natural, tender nature as opposed to sukuna's harsh and crude and brooding one, the one you're drowning in. the one sticking to your skin.

your hand—finally letting go of sukuna's shoulder, where you were keeping yourself stable—slaps over your mouth, tears springing into your eyes.

"f—fuck, fuck, fuck!" sukuna chants, eyes scrunching as he gets lost in the pleasure. he's pounding you, knocking your eyes back still, not slowing his pace for anything. your leg flails once, but how can you fight when he's holding you up like this?

"'s—'kuna," you choke out brokenly, slapping his chest with whatever strength you can muster. your lip quivers, heart aching in your chest as you plead tearfully, "don't."

he'd never been considerate. he'd never 'made love'. not even now. he fucked. he lied, he slipped off condoms, he 'forgot' to pull out, all so many times before. it was clockwork to him. he could've easily done it again. lied. been selfish. blurred the lines. cheated consent.

put a baby in his little brother's whore girlfriend.

and yet sukuna weirdly found himself pulling out of you last second, one hand holding you up while the other jerked his cock until thick ropes of cum splattered up your dress with a strained grunt. his orgasm spoils at it hits, a rough ecstasy that's tattered along the edges and ultimately, ultimately unsatisfying. it barely scratches the surface. the heat of it hasn't even started leaving his body before he wants more, regrets not filling you up, every cell inside him clawing for it, starved and fucking addicted.

sukuna almost, almost crushes you against the island, dropping you on the counter again where your drenched cunt feels like it's been electrocuted when met with the cold so suddenly. you gasp, arching into him, searching for any kind of warmth.

but he rips away from you, turning his back. his touch is gone as soon as it came. any desire flatlines, ringing loudly, blaring in your sensitive ears. alarm bells.

what is this?

both your chests are heaving. there's no afterglow. it's messy, dirty, frantic. cheap. depraved.

and it seems like you aren't the only one.

"s-sukuna, i—"

CLICK.

lips snapping shut, you sit right up, head whipping around in the most deafeningly guilty sense ever. heart in your throat, your expression echoes one of pure horror, one you expect will reflect your boyfriend's when he realizes what's going on here.

yuji stumbles out of the bathroom, his mop of pink hair tousled and eyelids low. he hangs by the doorframe for several seconds, his head dropped, not even looking up. it takes only a few steps. they're slow, clumsy, lead him to the bedroom door. he doesn't notice. he doesn't notice.

his older brother and his girlfriend are feet away, covered in squirt and sperm and other dirty secrets. shame. guilt. some more than others.

and he just blunders into the bedroom, a loud 'thump', telling you that he made it to bed.

all you do is stare. your jaw stays slack.

you hear a zipper and, frazzled, quickly flit your head at sukuna. he's fixing his clothes, not paying you any mind.

you stare at his back, despairing.

"wh—you're just gonna...?" you stammer incredulously, trying to do the same but there's no fixing the gaping hole in your tights that reaches down to your mid thighs.

away from his gaze, him cum settles against the fabric of your torn up dress, pooling slowly in its place.

his cock, hardly soft, twitches again, urging his need. he ends up frozen for a moment, simply staring, before he numbly moves forward.

he leaves, leaving you sat on the counter as he storms out into the night, slamming the front door behind him.

you're alone there, stunned, cum up your dress that is almost but not quite your boyfriend's, the floor below you soaked, and a heartbeat in every part of your body.

trembling, you push yourself off of the counter.

vaguely aware of the layout of the house, you scramble to find some wipes and clean up the mess on the floor. after that, it takes at least 10 minutes to get the semen out of your dress, but even then, you feel filthy.

you sniffle over the sink, scrubbing soapy suds into your tainted skin. wanting to throw up.

what the fuck had you done?

you'd cheated. that's it. you cheated on the sweetest angel, your angel, yuji. the one entirely too gentle and trusting for this world. you betrayed him. a sob rips through you, shattering your core.

stupid, stupid, stupid.

as you sneak back into bed, fingers still shaking as they turn the handle to yuji's room, you don't even have the energy to change your clothes. you simply crawl into bed, too crushed to face him, not garnering the strength, knowing what you'd done. a tear slips down your cheek.

because you can't even regret it.

and before you know it, yuji's draping himself over you, his arms, pulling you against the haven of his chest, sighing against your neck.

"you made it..." he mumbles.

oh, how you want to sob when he says such a thing. "yeah," you nod, trying to suppress the break in your voice, "yeah, i'm here."

yuji grunts happily, snuggling you closer. "mmh, good."

you don't think you will ever forgive yourself.

"i love you." yuji says, blind to the truth.

but you swear it's not one-sided. "i love you," you admit, beginning to cry softly in his arms, wondering if it will be the last time you ever get the liberty of doing so again.

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