#took me a while to get the lighting right though

[lamefish]

kento nanami is an anniversary man. nsfw

you think it's sweet, how he has the date of big events in his life on memory. when it's a loss, he'll take the day off to remember, with his head in your lap as he tells stories of whomever has passed. you listen intently, ask questions about them and watch as your husband recounts every good thing about a person.

he celebrates the good, too. almost excessively. the date you met is circled on the calendar, and kento will wake you up with breakfast in bed and a day of doting to show you just how important this anniversary is to him. you turned his world upside down in the best of ways, and what kind of man is he if not one to celebrate the light in his life?

of course, your wedding anniversary too. it's the one he goes all out for: more often than not you put a weekend aside to take a trip and spend some uninterrupted time together. you'll act as newlyweds again, because you still feel like newlyweds despite the passing years, and you'll be reminded over and over just how lucky you are to have found your soulmate in a man like kento nanami.

a man who is sentimental, and so very in love with you. and also celebrates the first time you had sex.

that first year, he had spent the day doting on you so profusely that you were convinced he was going to propose. he was pulling out all of the stops, taking you out fopr an expensive meal, dosing you with fine wines and so many kisses you could get drunk off the taste of him alone. he took you home, ran you a scented bath and took care of the house while you relaxed.

and of course the night ended in mind blowing sex—as your nights usually do. he had insisted on fucking you in missionary despite his recent penchant for taking you from behind and, once he has ripped two orgasms from you and was working on your third, he let it slip.

“we made love for the first time a year ago today,” he whispers against your lips, cock pulsing inside of you as he reaches deep inside of you. “just like this—looking into each others eyes, three orgasms from you, two from me. fell in love with you that night, do you know that honey?”

“you kept track of the day?” you cant finish your sentence without a moan breaking from your throat. “kento, you’re something else.”

“of course i did. it’s an important date, reaching such intimacies—feeling these beautiful velvet walls of yours for the first time… i’ll never forget it.”

you laugh, though it’s quickly swallowed by a kiss from your lover. he rocks his hips into you, feels every inch of his veiny cock disappear inside. he looks down to watch himself sink into you, though his gaze his brought back when you speak.

“three.”

kento blinks. “three what?”

“orgasms from you. you said you had two, but you came a third time right at the end—i milked you dry and you were so sex-drunk and exhausted but you insisted on making me food.” you reach down and grab his hand, the one that had been cupping at your chest, and hold it up for him to see the gentle scar that runs across his thumb. “you cut yourself slicing the bread because i fucked you mindless.”

it comes back to him in gentle flashes. you had, in fact, milked him of a third release. he had just been so out of his mind with nerves and pleasure that the memory had washed itself clean from his mind. he scolds himself mentally for ever daring to forget a detail about being intimate with you, but smiles.

“i remember,” he says. “you told me sex made you hungry so i wanted to incorporate it into your aftercare…”

“silly man,” you wrap your legs around his waist and lick your ankles behind him. with a gentle nudge, he’s forced that tiny bit deeper inside of you. “my silly man.”

kento moans—his eyes flutter shut and his lips catch between his teeth. he adores you—he really does. so much so that the sheer memory of his first time with you is quickly becoming too powerful of a memory to have.

and you, his beautiful other half, laid beneath him with lustful eyes and parted lips, smile up at him. “are we recreating our first time, ken? is that what this is?”

he nods, a little wordless as he tries to keep his mind straight.

“then i think you know what i’m going to do to you, my love.”

he smiles. “milk me for all i have. it’s all yours anyways.”

you lean up and kiss him. it’s slow, gentle, like your first kiss with him was. you taste him wholly on your lips and thank all the divine beings that may exist for putting such a man in your life’s trajectory. his cock twitches inside of you, he fills you out so perfectly.

still, you smile as you roll your hips up to meet his. “just let me handle the aftercare this time.”

[niwaart]

Family without light.

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Bruce and Y/N divorced after more than 15 years of marriage. The marriage was only for the sake of cooperation between the two companies, not for love. But after Y/N's father died and she took over the company, she decided to cancel the contract between them and divorce him. But... that's not what matters to Damian now... what matters to him is what happened after Y/N left the house. He thought that when she left, nothing would happen, he always ignored her or even fought with her or said harsh words in front of her and behind her. But... when did his wounds and injuries become so painful? After all, it's not the first time he got injured while fighting some villains. After all, he was trained by his mother Talia to be strong and feel as painless as possible. So he's surprised by the pain he feels from a mere scratch! His mother would be disappointed if she knew about this. But that's not the only change Damian has noticed. Y/N usually took him home from school and home to school and sometimes took him to the mall to buy food for his pets or to the Kent family's house. Now that she was gone, it was Alfred who drove him with Bruce and sometimes Jason. Tim barely had time for himself and Dick wasn't in Gotham. So when Jason was busy on a case and Alfred was busy, he would wait for one of them to come or he would walk home. As the days went by he was getting tired of it, the commute between home and school was too long... and he missed the places Y/N used to take him. She would take him after shopping to see the ocean or even to a fancy place to buy him nice clothes that fit his taste... she knew how to choose clothes... comfortable and cool at the same time. He missed when she would stop at the candy store or ice cream shop to buy his favorite flavor without telling Alfred. He missed when she would defend him in front of his father, she knew when he was lying or not. And when Bruce punishes him by stopping him from going on patrol, Y/N will bring the Robin costume that Bruce hid and then she will ask him to go in patrol, whether Bruce wants to or not. He missed her when she would stand waiting for him every day after school, start another fight in the car with her, and make it up to him with ice cream even though she didn't do anything wrong... He missed her... So he had a plan, a plan for her to come and take him from school to the market. A few weeks ago, Damian saw one of the students at his school calling their mother because they were sick. So Damian was going to call Y/N... and tell her he was sick and she would take him! Yeah, after all, it had been 3 months since the divorce, she must be missing him by now. Right?

"Yes Damian Wayne? What's wrong?" The headmistress said with a raised eyebrow upon seeing Damian hoping he wasn't here because of another fight.

Damian looked at her for a few moments nervous and a little excited. "I'm sick... I need to go home early today. Can I call someone to pick me up?" Damian said using his acting skills and speaking in a pale and sick voice. The principal was surprised and nodded "Of course you can, go ahead you can call your family." The principal gave him the phone and Damian took it after thanking her he went out and stood in the school corridor while writing down Y/N's number after writing down the number he was nervous and his finger hovered over the call button. after taking a deep breath he pressed the call button and put the phone to his ear... After waiting for an eternity (for Damian) a familiar voice answered. "Yes? Who's calling?" Damian forgot for a while why he was calling but he finally answered.

"I-It's me, Damian... I'm calling from school..." Damian said cursing himself for stuttering.

"Okay?... What do you want?"

"I... I'm sick... and Alfred is busy, I need you to pick me up from here." Damian answered lowering his voice, to show that he was sick. There was a long moment of silence… then Y/N answered, “Why should I?… I don’t have a connection to Bruce anymore, so you’re not my responsibility anymore.” Damian felt a lump in his throat… like he was choking, did she not miss him? Did she no longer love him? Or care about him? Was everything she did fake? No… it was real, he felt it! Damian answered in a voice close to tears while cursing himself internally for his weakness, “What?… But I… I… I’m sick…” Damian couldn’t hold back the tears that started to fall. “then call your mom… I’m busy, don’t call again.” Y/N hung up the phone before Damian could answer. Damian tried not to fall and cry, tried to wipe away his tears, tried to hide the trembling of his body, but he failed. After crying silently in the bathroom for a while, he washed his face and handed the phone back to the principal, looking down, trying to avoid her gaze. The day passed quietly, Alfred came late as always and got into the car silently as usual, but this time he was sadder. After several more months, Damian was about to forget about it and act like nothing happened. He was walking out of school and heading to his new seating area where he would sit while waiting for Alfred or Jason. But he noticed something… no, someone… It was Y/N! Damian's heart fluttered with joy and he wanted to run to her… She came for him!… That's what Damian thought as he prepared to run to her… But before his joy could be complete, he saw a twin from the same school he goes to. They hugging Y/N… Why? Damian looked at them in confusion… then he heard one of them say 'Auntie'… then Damian knew that Y/N didn't come for him… but for those two, Damian was hit with another wave of sadness, he was about to cry, he was close to crying but he didn't in front of people… so he silently walked to the spot where he sits to wait for someone to take him home while he watched Y/N from afar… she patted the two kids on the head… hugged them, opened the car door for them… Damian's breath was shaky, he was about to break down, why did she have to be nice to them, what about him? He also wanted her to look at him, smile at him, ask him how school was, and spoil him with sweets… he wanted someone to take care of him… he wanted her to take care of him like Talia didn't… he missed Y/N. He will do anything to back the days before she leave him... he promise to himself.

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[rsepetals]

☁︎ sex with exconvict!toji is more enthralling than it should be!

cw: fem!reader, breeding, virgin!reader, toji’s mean:( unprotected sex, spanking, size difference, dacryphilia.

they say the devil is a diminutive red man with a pitchfork, but that's not true. he's the eloquent charmer, the smooth talker who knows precisely how to infiltrate your psyche. he's the man with the handsome visage, the man with the enigmatic steel eyes that you could never quite decipher. the man with the scar on his lip that narrated a tale he'd never disclose, the man with the name toji zenin.

the evening he’d staggered through the wooden door, with nothing but the tattered clothes on his back, you knew he was trouble. you’d been perched on the plush, toffee-colored sofa, legs folded delicately underneath your strawberry-patterned dress, which complemented your sun-kissed skin. the room was dimly lit by the flickering light of the fireplace, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

it startled you to see this burly man with a rugged appearance and piercing eyes bursting into your cozy home. toji zenin was a formidable presence, his tall frame cloaked in clothes that clung to his muscular build, hinting at the strength beneath. his hair was dark and unruly, framing a face that bore the weathered marks of a hard life. a scar ran across his lip, adding to the air of danger that surrounded him. his steel-gray eyes were cold and calculating, and when his gaze locked onto yours, it felt as though he could see right through you. the intensity of his stare sent a shiver down your spine, making your skin crawl with goosebumps.

you had prepared to scream, your heart pounding in your chest, until your father appeared behind him, his familiar, reassuring figure bringing a semblance of calm. “this is toji, darling… he’s going to be doing some work around the farm. just for a while.” your father's voice was steady, yet you couldn't shake off the unease that lingered in the air.

your father’s words hung in the air, but your eyes remained fixed on toji. you could see the weariness in his stance, the way his shoulders slumped slightly as if carrying an invisible weight. his hands were rough and calloused, evidence of a life filled with hard labor. the flickering firelight accentuated the sharp angles of his face, casting shadows that made his expression even more inscrutable.

toji took a step forward, his boots making a soft thud against the wooden floor. the sound seemed to echo in the silent room, amplifying the tension. his gaze never wavered from you, and you felt a strange mix of fear and curiosity. there was something about him that was undeniably magnetic, despite the unease he stirred within you.

as he moved closer, you noticed the faint scent of earth and sweat clinging to him, a testament to his journey. he finally broke his gaze, glancing around the room before looking back at your father. “thank you for taking me in,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly, yet carrying a hint of gratitude.

your father nodded, placing a reassuring hand on toji’s shoulder. “let’s get you settled in,” he said, guiding him towards the back of the house. you watched them disappear down the hallway, the sense of foreboding still lingering. you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of trouble toji zenin had brought with him, and how it would change the quiet life you’d known on the farm.

two weeks had passed since toji zenin stepped through that intricately carved door, and things on the farm had shifted in ways you never expected. he’d settled into the routine of hard work, but there was something about him that still set your nerves on edge. the way he moved with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, the way he spoke just enough to keep you guessing—it all felt like he was hiding something.

you’d caught him a few times, deep in conversation with shady-looking visitors who pulled up in sleek cars that didn’t quite match the rustic charm of the farm. their hushed tones and furtive glances made your heart race. it was hard not to suspect that toji was tangled up in something dangerous, maybe even the mafia. the thought sent chills down your spine, but you couldn’t deny the intrigue he held over you.

one afternoon, you found yourself lingering by the barn, pretending to organize tools as you watched him work. his muscles flexed under the sun, glistening with sweat, and for a moment, you forgot your suspicions. but then you noticed the way he’d occasionally look over his shoulder, as if expecting someone. it was a small detail, but it made your stomach twist.

“hey,” he called out, breaking your thoughts. “you need help with that?” his voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it that made you wary. you hesitated, weighing your options. could you really trust him? or was he just a charming facade hiding something darker?

you hesitated for a moment, then decided to play it cool. “sure, if you don’t mind,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. you handed him a rake, your fingers brushing against his. the contact sent a jolt through you, but you quickly pulled your hand back, hoping he didn’t notice.

toji took the rake and started working beside you, his movements fluid and efficient. he was shirtless, his toned muscles glistening under the sun. his light blue levi jeans hung low on his hips, and his black boots kicked up dust with every step. his hair was matted with sweat, and he occasionally wiped his hands on a damp cloth he kept tucked in his pocket. “you’ve been watching me,” he said casually, not looking up. it wasn’t a question, more like a statement of fact.

your heart skipped a beat. “just making sure you’re doing it right,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. but the way his lips curved into a faint smirk told you he wasn’t buying it.

“is that so?” he murmured, his eyes finally meeting yours. there was a glint in them, something that made your pulse quicken. “or are you wondering why someone like me ended up on a farm like this?”

you swallowed hard, caught off guard by his directness. “maybe a little of both,” you admitted, deciding there was no point in lying. “you don’t exactly fit the typical farmhand profile.” toji chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent shivers down your spine. “life’s full of surprises,” he said cryptically. “sometimes, you end up in places you never expected.”

you wanted to press him for more, to dig into his past and uncover the truth. but before you could say anything, he straightened up, wiping sweat from his brow. “let’s finish up here,” he said, his tone signaling the end of the conversation. as you worked side by side, you couldn’t shake the feeling that toji zenin was a puzzle you were desperate to solve, even if it meant uncovering secrets that could change everything.

now toji would be lying if he said he hadn’t found interest in the farmer’s daughter. how could he not? pretty dresses, and an even prettier face. your eyes sparkled with curiosity and mischief, and every time you laughed, it was like a melody that stuck with him long after. despite his rough exterior and the secrets he carried, he couldn't help but be drawn to your warmth and genuine spirit.

he noticed the way you moved with grace, even when doing the simplest tasks around the farm. your hair, always perfectly styled, framed your face in a way that made you look like you belonged in a different world, far from the dirt and toil of the fields. you had a way of making everything seem brighter, and toji found himself looking forward to the moments when your paths would cross.

the kindness was another thing that caught him off guard. you treated everyone with a gentle touch and a kind word, even him, the stranger with a past he tried to hide. there was an innocence about you, but also a strength that he admired. it was a combination that made you irresistible, and toji knew he was in deeper than he wanted to admit.

you couldn’t exactly recall how’d you ended up squished between two stacks of hay as toji fucked you mercilessly. the thrusts he delivered nothing short of cruel, folding you further into the prickly stack as you whimper sweetly. he almost couldn’t believe it when you’d taken him all at once, his eyes fluttering shut as your pretty tight pussy clenched around him so delicately. “virgin huh? god, you’re so slutty. what would daddy think of you being stretched out like this, hmm?”

you can only whine at his words, voice long gone. “ah!” the feel of his large hands spreading you apart has you sobbing, “oh she’s wet. you’ve been thinking about this for a while huh? i bet you’ve touched yourself to the thought of me plenty of times. such a slut.” his words are mean, but the way he splits you is meaner. “mhmmm, on my gosh!” stars kiss your eyelids as his throbbing tip presses repeatedly into that gummy spot inside of you.

it leaves you a moaning mess, the sounds of skin slapping filling the entire barn. the sound of it has your pussy fluttering and your head spinning.

your toes curl as he pounds into you relentlessly. you can barely form a thought, only able to focus on the feeling of him ruining you. your cunt squelches obscenely, juices dripping down your thigh. your breasts jiggle, the tips of them brushing the hay every so often.

and much as toji wants to be gentle with you, the way you cry for him, beg him to taint you has him gripping the fleshy meat of your hips. he doesn't care if you're bruised, he just needs to hear more. your voice is so delicate, yet so needy. the way your face scrunches up, your eyebrows knitting together in pleasure. it all goes straight to his cock. the way you're stretched around him is lewd, the way your tits jiggle is even more so.

"so pretty." his thumb rubs your clit gently, his voice a growl, "be good and cum for me baby. be a good girl and cum on this big dick, yeah?" you nod frantically, unable to speak as his thrusts become more and more punishing. his words a broken record in your head, good girl, good girl, good girl.

"gonna- gonna cum!" he grins, his hand rubbing your clit even faster. his own orgasm is fast approaching, the way you're squeezing his dick so tight.

"go ahead sweetheart, i'm close too, fuck." the hand rubbing your clit goes to your neck, gripping the tender flesh and forcing you to arch your back even more.

he's nearing the edge, the coil in his stomach becoming tighter and tighter. "cum with me. cum." it's the only warning you get before he's releasing, his thrusts still brutal as he empties himself inside of you. his thumb is still rubbing your clit, the overstimulation too much as you squirt around his pulsating cock. the sight of it has him grinning, and the fact that he’s the first one to make you squirt making him proud.

his thumb rubs your clit, slower this time, as he rides out his orgasm, the overstimulation too much as a small orgasm wracks through your body. then he’s spanking you. one hit. then two. then three. then five.

your ass stings, but you can only whine at his cruelty. he pulls out. it all happens so fast and he’s tucking himself back in and zipping his pants up. a grin is still on his face, a satisfied expression plastered across his features. "thanks for the fuck baby. see you around."

you watch his retreating figure, the door slamming shut behind him. you sigh, still facedown. the sound of his truck peeling off leaving a bad taste in your mouth. but the sticky cum that drips out of you as you struggle to clean yourself up has the butterflies in your stomach returning.

[shy-canadian-snowflake]

Toronto VS Niagara

“Logan.” The man’s head popped up from where he was chowing down on lunch. The sound of Wade’s voice stopped any and all thoughts about the dumb show playing on the tv. Wade never called him Logan. Fucking Never. He stopped chewing and put down his second sandwich to give the other his full attention. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked after swallowing his mouthful. His eyes were locked onto Wade who seemed small in that moment. The man was hunched over his own sandwich that only had a few bites into it. Curling up with his hands in tight fists. 

“Can you call Dopinder? See if he’s busy?” He eyed the other up and down for a second, trying to see what was causing the other stress before nodding. 

“Sure thing Bub, can you talk to me though? Something is bothering you, yeah?” Wade gave a short nod. Logan whipped out his phone and shot Wade’s closest friend a quick text, a simple ‘you free?’.

“I’m scared.” Logan went to touch the other only for Wade to flinch away. Okay, no touching. He put his hand down on the couch, palm up so the other could hold his hand if he wanted. 

“And you want to get out of here for a bit?” Wade gave a stiff nod. With that, Logan texted the man again. ‘Wade SOS, needs out.’ He barely sent the message before getting a handful of emojis back. A head exploding, a bunch of thumbs up, and a crying face. 

‘Omw’ was the only word that was sent. 

“Uh, I’m pretty sure this means he’s high-tailing it here.” Logan showed Wade his phone. The merc gave a pained smile before nodding. “Do you want me to come with you?” 

“Uh.” Logan could see the far away look starting, Wade was dissociating a bit in that moment. The merc’s mouth moved as if he was trying to say something but was unsure. 

“Yes or no, both are fine answers.” He wanted to reach out for the other but remembered how Wade flinched at his touch. Logan took a dramatically large breath in, before blowing it out. He breathed in deeply again, and soon Wade was mimicking him. 

“Yes.” Logan kept breathing deeply as he took Wade’s plate from his lap and set it on the shitty coffee table. EIther the dog would eat the food, or it would be still there when they got back, out of everything, it was the least of Logan’s concerns. 

“We can head downstairs, with the way Dopinder drives he’s probably already here.” Wade nodded shakily. Logan let the other get up and head to the door at his own shaky pace. As Wade threw on a pair of old shoes, Logan grab Wade’s coat. He knew the other would be overheating now, once he was calm however, he’d be wanting the comfort of the old jacket. 

Logan followed behind Wade, locking the door behind him as Wade made his way down the steps of the apartment, almost in a trance. He kept up with the other, making sure he didn’t go too fast or curl up in a panic attack. By how hard the man’s heart was beating, he wouldn’t be surprised if Wade did have a panic attack at any moment.

Luckly, Logan was right and Dopinder was outside. He threw open the passenger side door for Wade who took his spot while Logan crawled into the back seat. Once they were buckled in, the man took off. 

“We in a chatting mood DP or a silent ride?” Dopinder asked as they stopped at a red light. He was making his way to the highway, if Logan had to take a guess. 

“Chatter about something, please. I need a distraction.” Wade said, resting his head on the cool glass of the window. Logan searched around in the pockets of Wade’s jacket as Dopinder started talking about Bandhu, his rival for Gita’s love. 

“Bandhu is taking Gita on a lovely date to Toronto.” 

“Shitty place for a date.” Logan pipped in as he grabbed Wade’s fidget cube from the jacket pocket. “Wade, cube.” With that, Wade gave Logan his hand to place to cube in. 

“Oh no Mr. Wolverine, he is taking her to the nice part. They are going to have a romantic dinner at the CN tower, then go to that new aquarium.”

“That is two places within walking distance from the train station.” 

“Yes and it is very romantic.” Logan shook his head. 

“There is nothin romantic about Toronto Bub, trust me. If you want to wow her, take her to Niagara Falls. Canadian side, not American. Maid of the Mist to the Falls is fun if you like getting wet. The walk at night is fucking beautiful when they have the Falls all lit up, hell if you don’t like the Falls theres casinos, and the fucking SkyWheel.” 

“SkyWheel?” 

“Huge as fuck ferriswheel.” Wade pipped in. “Right next to a dinosaur mini golf. And down the street they have a Burger King with a roller coaster on the roof.” Dopinder looked skeptical. 

“Cross from that is a Ripley’s Believe it or Not. Make it into a two day event, do romantic shit around the Falls, Maid of the Mist, eat at the high end places, touristy shit. Then hit the cassinos, SkyWheel, Dinosaur mini golf, Ripley’s, hell there's a haunted house on that same street, check all that shit out.” 

“That does not sound as romantic as the CN tower and aquarium.” Dopinder pulled onto the highway, and Wade relaxed more into his seat. Logan could hear the light clicking of the buttons on the cube that Wade was fiddling with. 

“We should do both Lo-Lo.” 

“Shit, I haven’t been to Niagara in years.”

“I think I’m banned from the casinos there.” Logan laughed. 

“Why doesn’t that surprise me, Bub?”  They continued to chat, coming up with a plan to help Dopinder to woo Gita in Niagara, coming up with more extravagant things to do there. Dopinder, being a good sport, put in his own two cents on the ideas, which somehow made the plan’s even more extravagant. 

Feeding each other chocolate covered strawberries while someone saranates them by the Falls. Kissing at the top of the SkyWheel at night, with the lights of the Falls as a backdrop. Spending a night in a hotel room, listening to the falls as they fucked on a rose covered bed. 

Wade was controlling the conversation by then, half turned in his seat to be able to talk to Logan as well as their driver. Not an inch of fear on his face, only joy of being with two people he loved dearly.

[qvert]

Hail the Dictator Era ™

[ayyponine]

Same venue. Same-ish crowd. Opposing seasons. Contrasting vibes.

[funsizedcrow]

funniest thing that ever happened when we were playing botw was my sister was playing and she had made it up to the top of the tower in hyrule field (the one surrounded by guardians) and was looking down at the guardians through a slot in the like railing and i was like "you should shoot the guardian" because i thought they were out of range and so she shot the guardian in the eye with an arrow and it came alive and immediately hit link with a laser and link instantly died ragdolled and fell through the slot and miphas grace activated and my sister immediately teleported away while mipha was still doing her thing. and i was just laughing so hard.

[thephantomsdream]

"If you keep staring at me like that, I'll have to ask you what are we?" Imagine being the witness of a serious crime, but the team thought you were involved somehow and needed to rule you out. Cue to big, scary, mysterious, masked Ghost trying to intimidate you by existing near you.

Soap snorts and pats Ghost on the back, which earns a glare from him, all after the man blinked confused. He had pretty eyes. Gaz moves to a corner to smile way too much, and Price sighs loudly.

After a few more minutes of explaining that you were just on your way to your shitty job and that they needed to wrap this up before you are to inevitably getting fired, Ghost still looks straight into your soul, now with more intensity somehow.

At this point, you grit your teeth. You might legit not have a job after this, since you're already half an hour late, and this (weirdly cute) fucker is trying to read your thoughts.

"Oh, you're really into me, aren't you?" He blinks seemingly uninterested and you raise a brow at him, starting a staring contest until Price (as he previously introduced himself) got in between you two.

"I don't think you understand the situation that you're in." It took all of your will to not groan like a child and roll your eyes at him.

Cue to another round of you doubling down and explaining that you're extremely lame but a good person, all while Gaz still looks you up.

"She might be telling the truth, boss." He whispered to Price in the corner of the abandoned shop they broke onto to have some privacy. The man has been trying to confirm your identity all this time, meanwhile you looked up at your number one fan to say "I told you so" and gave him an exasperated sigh when you already caught him intensely staring into your eyes.

"Seriously..." You mutter and you almost believe seeing a crinkle of amusement in his eyes. Your eyes almost twitched. "I pronounce us husband and wife." You say, rolling your eyes at him. Yeah, take that, fuck-face. You childishly thought, absolutely thriving at his slow, surprised blink. Soap cackled and tried to hide it with a cough.

Long story (not) short, you were indeed let go after Gaz confirmed you're broke, lame and basic. No secret villain or anything. After they kinda apologized, Price basically tried to gaslight you into thinking everything is fine then tried to dip his toes into mansplaining the importance of greater things beyond you, he nodded to himself and patted you on the back before barking an order to his soldiers to move. Pretty brown eyes stayed glued onto your soul until you were pretty much skipping away out of sight, rushing to your job incredibly annoyed.

You couldn't really explain your absence to your boss and he didn't care much either, he told you to get to work.

Surprise, surprise, though, because at the end of your shift, he sugarly informed you that you're fired. He gave you the pay he owed you and there you were. Jobless. And probably homeless in a month's time.

A week later and some intense job hunting done, you're at your wit's end, truly. Job market is shit and nobody is looking to hire. As you enter your ratty apartment, you sigh and almost want to cry in frustration. You've been cursing the terrorists, soldiers and any motherfucker involved in last week's incident, entering your kitchen to grab a drink and eat some air since you needed to save money, when you froze in place.

In the middle of your tiny living room stood a massive dark frame, the outside lights shining through the balcony door behind him made the man unrecognizable. You were getting robbed. You just caught a dude right in the middle of robbing you. As if it was the cherry on top, every frustration you felt erupted out of you, and while you were still terrified by the massive frame, you growled a "Get the fuck out of my house."

A deep chuckle was your only response and you felt dread.

"You got spunk. And a shit survival instinct." He stepped closer. You stepped back immediately, calculating your route to the door, hoping he wouldn't be able to catch you. Denial. You knew. But you froze again in surprise. You knew that mask.

"What the fuck are you doing in my house?" It came more of a whisper, thinking you'd never meet those people again. Even standing up in front of him, he's massive. Maybe he came back for those dumbass comments you made. Oh, this is revenge, isn't it? He's built, he can legit destroy you with a punch. Oh, God, you're fucking dead. They still think you're a terrorist or some shit and he's here to destroy you out of existence.

Your mind rambled until he moved, and when he did, you tensed, mind blank. The man, the Ghost took a couple of steps towards you and placed his large hand on the back of your neck, pulling you close. Oh, you're gonna fucking die for sure. He leaned down to your eye level, making you stare into his dark eyes as he studied you.

"Came back to take care of my wife." He said. It was your turn to slowly blink at him. What?

[monstersholygrail]

New City, New Life

5k celebration ‘Choose your own adventure’ story

Wolf Hybrid x fem!reader— free use city, olfactophilia, semi-public sex, oral (f!receiving), marking, biting, knotting

You stop the moving truck just outside of your brand new house. Ducking your head you check it out through the window and nod appreciatively. It looked a lot better than it did online! Though for the surprisingly low price you got for an entire house you wouldn’t have complained about whatever it looked like. But you scored great for not viewing the house in person before buying it and moving to a whole other city you had never heard of let alone been to.

Was that pretty stupid of you? Sure! But you can’t exactly regret it when this is the outcome. And besides, you needed a change of pace from the monotony of your old life. You needed a new adventure. An unknown city, your own house, and a change in work was just the start, you were positive.

When that mysterious headhunter came to you a few months ago with the opportunity of a lifetime, it couldn’t have come at a better time. It was like something in the universe knew you were having a rough time and needed to leave. So you took the risk and packed up your entire life. It all happened so fast you didn’t even get the chance to do any of your own research on the neighborhood, the city, or your new job. All you had to go on was the brochures the headhunter sent.

Again, was it stupid? Nah, you’re sure it’ll all work out for the best.

But as you flip the latch and push up the tailgate to reveal the moving truck full of boxes that you alone have to move, you start to second guess your statement. You really should’ve hired that Minotaur Moving Company the headhunter suggested. You can handle this. You can totally… totally… hand this.

“Hey, neighbor!” A voice calls, startling you out your daunting thoughts.

You lean to look over the side of the truck and are instantly blown away by the sight in front of you. A sexy ass Wolf Hybrid walks down the sidewalk toward you. His muscles bulging and straining against his tight button up shirt. His slacks not hiding anything he’s got going on downstairs. The smirk on his face is absolutely panty-dropping and you feel yourself go weak in the knees from it. More than ready to drop down and him do whatever he wants to you.

“Moving in?” He asks instead of immediately taking you right then and then. For a second you’re disappointed before you realize this is the real world and people don’t have sex with people they’ve just met… right?

“Yeah, yeah. Gotta bring in all these boxes, gonna take so long,” you say, your voice sounding breathier than you meant it to.

The Wolf Hybrid’s eyes flash but before you can read the expression it’s gone and that friendly neighbor persona is back on. He looks into the truck and scoffs as if it’s nothing.

“Let me help you with that then!”

Before you can pretend to resist, claiming he doesn’t need to help before he insists in a way that would have your panties gushing, he swings himself up into the truck. The words immediately die on your tongue as you see him pick up a heavy box like it’s nothing. Oh, well I guess your panties are getting soaked either way.

You swear that the Wolf Hybrid can tell you’re already turned on as he inhales deeply just as he passes you. But thankfully he doesn’t say a thing and heads up your porch, waiting with a wagging tail for you to open up your house to him. You exchange polite greetings as you walk inside with him and get started.

The two of your work together pretty well. Walking back and forth between the truck and the house. You can’t help but let your gaze linger on him and the way he moves. And every time you look at him you catch him looking back, his heated gaze raking over your form.

The tension grows thicker with each box you both carry. While the Wolf Hybrid forces you to stay away from the heavy boxes, only allowing you to lift the light ones. It only serves to increase the tension and turn you on even more. Still, you both manage to work up quiet the sweat by the time the moving truck is almost empty.

You sigh heavily as you push yourself back up into the truck. Heading all the way down to the front to look for another box to carry in. Just as you reach down to pick up a box of throw pillows, two clawed hands dig into your plush waist and a sharp gasp falls past your lips. You freeze in place, questioning why your pussy clenches down around nothing.

“Think I’m finally gonna fuck you now, sweetheart, ‘k?” The Wolf Hybrid growls, his chest molding to your back. His snout nuzzles into your throat and down into your shirt. He inhales deeply, a rumble moving through his chest as your musk washes over him. “You’re finally ripe ‘nough f’me.”

With a quick jerk of his hands, he’s shucking off your pants. You jump a second later as his snout presses deeply against your slit, rubbing his nose back and forth, smelling all of you. You moan softly, your mind fading away before you can question what the hell is happening. This is what you wanted this whole time after all. Can’t complain now. And you surely won’t as his long prickly tongue joins in, lapping up the mess your slick left on your pussy.

“So fucking drenched for me already. I think you’ll fit in around here just fine,” he rasps as he latches onto your clit and gives it a teasing suck that has sparks shooting through your core.

You go to finally ask what he’s been on about, and why the fact that you’re a soaked mess for him would mean you’d fit in, but in a flash he’s standing up and kicking your legs out to spread for him. His fat tip pushes against your entrance and your jaw drops, tongue lolling out at his sheer girth. His cock splitting you open in two as he pushes his big cock all the way inside your desperate pussy.

“N-nngh! Fuuuck. So fucking tight for me. Glad I got to you first. With a pussy this good you’re gonna be busy in a city like this,” the Wolf Hybrid growls out, his claws digging into your waist.

You can barely hear him over the ringing in your ears. But none of it matters anyway as he uses his grip and immediately starts spearing his shaft deep inside your sloppy cunt, over and over again. The only sound that registers now is your own moans as he fucks you brainless.

The truck shakes with the force of his thrusts and you hold onto the boxes in front of you for dear life as he takes you on a wild ride. His cock glides along your gummy walls, igniting your every nerve as he hits those spots inside you that have you seeing stars. Loud cries leave you but you can’t seem to give a fuck if anyone hears. They should hear how good you’re feeling right now.

“God, yes! Take it! Take my cock, darling. Gonna have to get used to this after all. And I’ll be more than happy to help you adjust.”

You cry out louder, your throat aching with the strength of the noises leaving you. You desperately try and rock back and meet his thrusts but the Wolf Hybrid snarls, his claws digging even deeper into your hips. He leans over you and his fangs are sinking into your flesh a moment later. Keeping you perfectly still for him as he slams his length into your depths, his tip kissing your womb with every thrust.

The onslaught of one sensation after the other has every single one of your atoms quivering with anticipation. Your toes curl as he reaches down, flicking your clit just right, and a second later you’re freezing up as your orgasm crashes through you.

Wolf Hybrid roars as your precious pussy clamps down on him. He continues to thrust into you, swinging his hips back and forcing his knot inside you with a slick pop. The sudden stretch prolongs your orgasm and makes you scream in delight. He cums not long after you, his knot expanding inside you as he pumps load after load of hot cum straight into your wrecked womb.

“If I hadn’t already said it, welcome to the neighborhood,” he says breathlessly in your ear.

After his knot had gone down, he slipped out of you and the two of you finished carrying the boxes in. Well, more like you laid on your couch while he carried the rest in because you couldn’t seem to walk for the life of you. He offered to stay, help you clean up and look after you till you could walk again, but you politely declined. You started your new job in the morning after all.

As you leave your house the next morning, body still a bit sore from the best fuck of your life, you realized you had a tiny issue. Your car was being driven down by a friend from your old city but it wasn’t here yet. You had to get to work somehow.

Looking off to the side you spot your neighbor in their driveway and your cheeks tinge pink. He was with a couple of his friends and it seemed like they were on their way somewhere. His friends appearing to be an Orc, a Naga, and another wolf. You could always ask them for a ride. Or maybe you shouldn’t bother your neighbor after what happened yesterday. You could always take the bus. Except… you have no idea where the station is. Well, you could always walk. Maybe stop for some coffee along the way.

[pseudowho]

"You know, Nanamin," Yuuji started, between mouthfuls, "when we first met, I thought I wouldn't like you at all."

Kento raised one thin eyebrow over the rim of his paper-cup coffee. He sat with you, and Yuuji, at a dirt road Conbini overlooking Tokyo. The sun was setting, casting the city as a silhouette against oranges, purples. You could smell the earthy petrichor of an incoming storm. Yuuji did not mind, thoughtful as he slurped at an instant ramen.

"Like, really," Yuuji continued, his mouth puckered up, "I thought you were boring. Unfunny, grumpy, miserable. Maybe even a little bit mean." Yuuji laughed now, becoming gradually more animated as he set the scene. "And when you tried to lecture me, while I was fighting that curse? Insane. I was like, 'Who the hell is this guy?'"

You covered your mouth, hiding a smile, eyes flicking between your unreadable husband, and the bubbling boy opposite him. Yuuji finished laughing, wiping his eyes and sighing into another slurp of noodles.

You placed a surreptitious hand on Kento's thigh under the table, and he barely reacted, but to tense and cross his arms. Yuuji rested his chin on one hand, eyes softening as he looked over the ant-like lights, moving in scattered formation across the city.

"But then...I realised. You just cared. I mean, really cared. About me. And if I wasn't being treated right. And if I was gonna be okay." Yuuji swallowed, his voice thickening. "And I...didn't have anyone left like that. The only person I ever did have was my grandad, and maybe he just took care of me because he had to, y'know? But you chose to. Even though I'm...I'm a monster."

You saw Kento squirm within. You knew he'd had his misgivings about Sukuna's Vessel, before Kento knew him as Yuuji. You knew the shame and guilt Kento carried for that. His shoulders ached, a pall-bearer of emotions for so many.

"And you're hilarious. Anyone can see it, really. And you're a rebel. And a protester. And you stand up for the little guy when nobody else wants to. And you don't do it to make us like you. You just...believe it's right. And don't get me wrong, I like Gojo-sensei too, but I love you."

You pursed your lips, closing your eyes and trying not to tear up on Kento's behalf. Kento remained silent, arms crossed and frowning down at his steaming coffee. Yuuji looked at you, uncertain. You gently flapped one hand; don't worry, you're alright, you're okay.

Kento eventually broke his silence, his voice gruff. He pushed his bank card across the table to Yuuji.

"Itadori-kun." Yuuji sat to attention, wide-eyed. "Go and get yourself some snacks. As much as you like. And the other students, too, if you know what they'd want."

Yuuji took the card in confusion, with both hands and a little bow, and disappeared inside the shop, the automatic doors booping behind him.

Kento stood, your hand falling off his lap, and grasped the metal railings overlooking the city, with his back to you. His shoulders were taut, stiff, occasionally hitching with emotion. You felt him, as you always had.

"...Kento? Are you alright?"

A thick swallow and a sniffle before a single gravelly, "Yeah. I'm fine, I...I'm fine."

[princessbrunette]

hi princess! I was just thinking about shy!reader ending rafe nudes for the first time 🫣 can u pls write abt it

⊹ ~ ⊹ ~ ݁. 🎀 ݁.⊹୨🐰୧ ⊹ . ݁🎀 . ݁~ ⊹ ~ ⊹

he wasn’t expecting it. he thought he’d have to work harder for you to open up like that.

it was toppers turn to swing, the group of them playing golf at the country club. rafe scowls in the sun, staring across the hills in thought knowing his younger friend often took ages to line up and get a good swing in. just as he was wondering what you would be up to right about now, lifting his wrist to check the time — his phone dings with a text and he reaches into his pocket, eyes lighting up in intrigue upon seeing it was your name on the screen, with one attachment.

he clicks on the picture and freezes.

it’s a selfie, you sat infront of the mirror in your bedroom. however, you look askew — clearly hot and flustered with your dress disheveled, one sleeve hanging off your shoulder nearly exposing your tit and the hem pulled up around your waist. you’ve got no panties on, legs open with your knees pointing up and feet flat to the floor and in the image you’re spreading your sloppy, wet cunt with your fingers, a mess of your own arousal coating you. the image is paired with a simple caption — ‘please come to my house i miss u :(’

now you were shy, like — hardcore shy. shit, it took you a while to even let rafe touch on you and fuck you without getting overwhelmed and wanting to cry everytime he looked at you. he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“holy shit. hooooly shit.” he drawls, beginning to pace a little, staring at the image and zooming in. topper gets distracted, turning his head.

“whats up?” he asks as rafe types a quick ‘Give me 15 mins baby’ into his keyboard. rafe glances up, lips parted at his two friends, staring at him for answers.

“shit uh, nah… nah don’t worry.”

he pockets his phone, looking to start packing up his stuff.

“nah c’mon man, what happened?” kelce comes towards him with a friendly grin and rafe lightly shoves him back by the shoulder, walking past to the golf buggy.

“i said don’t worry, alright? i uh, gotta roll though. see you guys around.” rafe punctuates his sentence with a scoffed chuckle of disbelief, swinging his golf bag over his shoulder.

“did… did something happen?” topper shakes his head.

“look, i gotta go see my girl alright, said she needs me. sending me pictures of her pussy all spread out n’shit. respectfully, m’not spending another minute with you suckers.” rafe holds up his hands, biting the bait and telling them anyway. he couldn’t help himself, at the end of the day; a boy.

kelce laughs in shock and toppers eyebrows raise, eyes widening as he says your name in questioning confirmation.

“yeah, who the fuck else?” rafe collects his last club from the buggy, slotting it into the bag.

“what— she’s like, the sweetest girl i know. super shy though, am i wrong?” topper seems in just as much as disbelief as rafe, who shrugs, beginning to walk backwards away from his friends.

“so i thought.” rafe calls out with a smirk, arms wide by his side before he spins around to make his way swiftly to your house to show him how much he appreciated your little text message gift.

⊹ ~ ⊹ ~ ݁. 🎀 ݁.⊹୨🐰୧ ⊹ . ݁🎀 . ݁~ ⊹ ~ ⊹

[k-hotchoisan]

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

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

his favourite

<prof!san x fem!reader>

Prof Choi likes playing favourites.

You’re his favourite.

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

Word count: 12.3K

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

apply for taglist here!

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

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

“Why not try for the department chair?”

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

“Who?”

“Professor Choi?”

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

“Why the fuck would I try him?” 

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

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

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

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

Right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who did you get?”

“Choi San.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

That sealed your fate. 

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

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

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

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

Until now that is. 

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

You had to collect yourself before Prof Choi collected you. 

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

“Come in.”

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

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

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

Fuck, he’s still so handsome.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re usually in a little earlier.”

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

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

“What’s this?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the hell were you thinking?

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

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

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

“Huh?” Is all you manage to reply. 

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

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

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

“So you’re single”, you echo.

He nods, “I’m single.” 

What is this strange feeling of relief?

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

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

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

You glare at him. 

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

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

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

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

You did? “I did?”

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

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

“Is that why you kept-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re going off with Choi Jongho?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow hard, your body still frozen in spot. 

“What do you think about him then?” 

“Jongho? I was just-“

“No. Choi San.”

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

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

“I t-think Prof-“

“San. Choi San”, he corrects you. 

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

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

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

“Mmhm.”

“And he’s really so-“

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you Prof Choi. See you tomorrow.”

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

“See you too, y/n.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You try out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Prof. Hey cutie.” 

San blinks. What did he just call you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, Is San not going?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cute? You think Jongho is…cute?” 

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

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

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

“Well, I mean-“

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

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

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

“Prof-“

“No. It’s sir.”

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

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

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Yes, sir.”

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

“Good girl.”

Of course, he claims it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you asking?”

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

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

“Y/n?”

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

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

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

You laugh softly at his words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You force a smile and shake your head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n”, you hear San call you. 

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

“Come here. Help me look at this.”

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

And it definitely seems to be ticking him off. 

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

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

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

He’s making you face him now. 

You’re still not giving him eye contact. 

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

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

Shit. You know that clear as day. 

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

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

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

And you’re finally looking right at him. 

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

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

He leans in closer. 

“Then why are you avoiding my eye contact?”

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

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

San is waiting for you to continue. 

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

“And?”

“It made me want…more.”

There’s a moment of silence.

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

It makes your heart flutter. 

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

This is not right. This is so dangerous. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir, I’m not sure-“

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

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

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

God, Choi San thinks he’s in heaven. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please what, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Especially one of them. 

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

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

He bites his cheek. 

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

He just doesn’t know how to tell you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck just happened?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S-sir…!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. Oh god. 

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

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

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

Your mind is a complete puddle. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now on your knees.” 

You’ve never dropped to your knees so fast.

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

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

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

“Look at me”, he instructs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-yes sir.” 

“How are you feeling?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We need to talk-“

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

But you’re stubborn. 

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

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

“We didn’t kiss”, you reiterate. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But why would he do that for?”

“He was trying to rile you up.”

“For what?”

“To see if you felt anything for me?”

“By kissing you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me what?”

“That I’m in love with you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The moment I received your teaching assistant application.”

📚 Bonus Epilogue 📚

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

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

“Yes?” 

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

San nods, taking the papers from her. 

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

“Prof, you’re married?”

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

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

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

“I am.”

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

“Tell me more then”, she asks. 

San scoffs playfully, turning his gaze to her. 

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

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network: @atzhouse @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

[fairyysoup]

easy living

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x fem!reader

summary: You ran into Eric on accident. Now you're facing the end of the world together. How do you get to know someone when you can't make a sound?

tags: smut, oral (f receiving), dry humping, piv sex, silent fucking, angst, hurt/comfort, survival, discussions of trauma, slight suicidal ideation by reader, words of affirmation as a love language, stay silent or die (obviously), strangers to lovers, apocalyptic, the cheesiest ending bc it's me writing, billie holiday lyrics bc it's also me writing

a/n: here it is, the silent fucking fic i promised y'all a year ago when this movie was announced. it was supposed to be like 1-2k words of plain smut but then I got too into the theory of what one does when you can't show affection through words and I genuinely discovered a tidbit of trauma I didn't know I had while writing it so I will be talking to a therapist about it, and also I'm literally out here baring my soul lol.

i also want to thank @bigtiddythanos @raraeavesmoriendi and @maximoffwxnda for supporting me throughout this writing process <3 this fic literally would not have been finished or published without y'all

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The rain has ended. Morose, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll get something close to free reign with your voice again. 

Of course the world had to end while you were at fucking Whole Foods.

You’ll miss certain things. Things you always took for granted, that you never even considered made a lot of noise until now. Typing on the computer. Making stir fry. Microwaving a burrito at 3am. Lighting a match, washing your face. Taking a shower.

And other things, too, that are more obvious, like singing while making cookies. Slurping the bottom of a milkshake. You’ll never be able to have a pet bird. You’ll never be able to see another concert again, and damn it if you didn’t really want those Glastonbury tickets a month ago. But it all just seems trivial, now. You don’t see why you shouldn’t just lay here on the couch forever. 

On the other side of the coffee table there’s a gentle shuffling. Eric rouses as quietly as he can; at the very least, your apartment creates a hospitable enough environment that he isn’t startled awake. It’s so silent in the apartment that you can hear the slight shift in his intake of breath, the rustle of the pillow as he turns his head to look at you. 

You want to look at him, but you fear that you’ll end up wanting to talk. So, you say nothing. You do nothing. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling and you wonder whether it would be better to get on one of the boats headed out into the water, or to move inland, away from people, away from sound. There has to be somewhere far enough away from the city that the… creatures won’t go, right?

Eric waves his hand in your periphery, so that you have no choice but to acknowledge that you know he’s awake. You have no choice but to turn your head and look into the depths of his eyes, and feel all the pain of the last 48 hours return to you. You’d been able to talk last night, just enough, in time with the rain and the thunder– enough to learn that he has family across the world. 

You can’t imagine knowing that somewhere, across an ocean and half a world away, your parents may or may not be dead. No way to contact them, no way to know what’s become of them. You can’t even begin to fathom the fear that he’s feeling, as much as you’re despairing. 

Eric’s big eyes tell you everything. Sadness and fear, and trying to grasp at the smallest hint of normalcy he can get. He blinks at you, and mouths, You okay?

No, you’re definitely not okay. Things are not okay. Things are broken and can’t be fixed. Things will never be the same again. He knows that, as much as you know that. But you nod anyway, even though you feel your heart beat a little bit slower than usual, like it wants to just go ahead and give up already. Tears prick at your eyes, and you have to close them before you let on that you’re lying.

Eric knows you’re lying, of course. How could anyone be okay, in this kind of situation? But he waits until you open your eyes, and then he mouths, Coffee?

You let out a small sigh of relief, and a smile that’s indescribably warm crosses your face. Even though he can’t make a sound, he knows exactly what to say.

You don’t have a coffee maker that doesn’t also make a ton of noise. But through some kind of witchcraft, Eric quietly empties two k-cups into a glass measuring cup and boils a soup pot full of water on the stove, and suddenly you have hot coffee in front of you. 

On a notepad left on the counter, you write, Wish I had some tea for you. 

Eric’s lips turn up at the edges, and he takes the pen from you. You’re able to doctor your coffee for about one second before he slides the notepad back to you.

Bloody American.

Your ensuing huff of a laugh is enough to make him turn pink around the ears, and he turns to place the dirty measuring cup into the sink. He reaches for the faucet, but then thinks better of it. You’ll have to figure out how to wash the dishes later.

You both drink your coffee in silence on the couch. You never considered yourself uncomfortable with silence; you’ve lived alone, you’ve gone for weeks without uttering a word before. But it’s so difficult to be sitting next to someone– someone you feel you could really get to like– and not be able to say a word. To make a sound, laugh or cry or snort or grunt. 

You’ll never be able to know what Eric’s laugh sounds like, or listen to his favorite song with him, or watch some stupid rerun of Friends with him while ignoring your responsibilities. He’s right there next to you, he’s risked his life to save you once already, and yet he’s so far away. You’ll never get to know him in all the ways you want to. Will you ever really know him at all?

He’d created a diversion when one of the fucking things had you trapped in a corner, between a dumpster and a brick wall. He chucked a rock at a car and set off an alarm, and then ran with you down an alleyway, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Eric looked so sad, following you like a lost puppy. He was fucking drenched, too, so you know he’d probably been through one hell of a morning. And then the rain started, and the creatures were confused and… well, you weren’t just gonna leave him, scared and alone.

You, too, were scared and alone.

Eric’s hand appears to brush away a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek, betraying your internal monologue. You look to him with puffy eyes, and he pulls his hand away, suddenly unsure of whether you’re okay with such an intimate gesture. 

Your coffee cup meets the table with a quiet tap. You’re slow to move, but you scoot towards him, his arm still outstretched towards you, his eyes wide. Eric has the prettiest eyes in the world, you think. You want to tell him so.

But you’re a little too choked up to form words, anyways. Your forehead meets Eric’s shoulder, and his arm comes around you before you can huff the first silent sob that brims up. He coos softly into your hair, so softly that you can barely hear it, but it conveys enough. It does enough. 

The world is fucked. Your life is fucked. You have tunnel vision and you can only see things getting worse from here on; the only good thing you know anymore is holding you and caressing your head so gently that it pushes your tears out for you. 

You’ll never get to see a movie in a theater, and smell the stale popcorn again. You’ll never drive down the highway with the wind in your hair. You’ll never ride a roller coaster or sing karaoke. You’ll never go to a club and have a drunken heart to heart with a stranger in a bathroom.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” You whisper, so faintly that it’s barely above a breath, your lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “To try to exist in a world where you have to pretend like you don’t exist?”

Eric pauses, holding you to him. You can see the wheels turning in his head, while he tries to figure out what to say. Then he turns his face to put his lips against your ear, the same way you’d done to him. 

“I think it’s worth it to try to survive.” His breath tickles your skin when he whispers, “So survive with me, yeah?”

You nod solemnly, your tears threatening to rise up again. “I can’t stand not talking to you.” It’s so hard to keep your voice from cracking, from rising above the merest hint of a whisper, directly to him and no one or nothing else. 

Eric takes it in stride. “You are talking to me.” He pulls back and bats his eyelashes, and you think, he oughta fucking know what that does to me. 

“Not like this,” you breathe to him, because that’s really what it is– it’s a breath. A sigh. A gust of air and nothing else, barely anything that registers on your vocal chords. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. His hand, tightening on the middle of your back, holding you there. “I want to talk– I want to get to know you.” 

“Well, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Eric turns his head. His forehead nudges yours at the temple, and you swear you see a flash of a smile on his face. “What do you want to know?” 

His forefinger traces up and down, up and down, a gentle pattern that keeps you grounded. You bite your lip, trying to keep from letting the sounds come out too loud. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Easy Living. Billie Holiday.” 

“You’re kidding.” You’re blushing, hot in the cheeks. You’re imagining it; slow dancing in the kitchen with him while oldies plays on the radio. You didn’t think such an innocent question would send you spiraling like this, but it hurts worse to know that it will probably never happen.

“Absolutely not.” 

“Somehow… I can’t picture you listening to jazz.” 

“Picture it all you want,” he whispers. Eric swallows, and continues, “My granddad used to have these records, and we used to play them on Christmas. But when– when he died, the records went missing. I couldn’t find the song until a couple years ago,” he explains, and his voice cracks just slightly into a murmur. 

You both freeze. You wait for the sound of creatures coming down the hallway, busting down the walls… nothing happens. You let out a breath, and you pull his face closer to yours. His eyes flick over your face, and you put your lips against his ear. 

“You have to be so quiet. Can you do that for me?” Eric nods in your hands. “I wish we could do anything but this. I wish that we could have met in better circumstances. I wish… I wish I had known you before all of this. I think we would have had a lot of fun. But if this is the only way I can get to know you, and hear your voice now, I’ll take it.” You’re nodding as well now, like you’re trying to convince yourself of it. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how long we have. Together, I mean. And I don’t want to waste it passing notes. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He sounds clipped. His hand fidgets on your back, and you pull away to find him misty-eyed, his brows turned up. He fishes for words that don’t come, and then he nods. “Okay.” 

Neither of you move. The atmosphere around you feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on all sides. Eric’s hand slides up your back and to your face, and you remember that you’re still holding his. You’re near sitting in his lap with how close you’ve become, and the realization of that feels like a punch to the gut.

You think you should pull away. You don’t. 

Eric’s thumb traces a gentle arc across your bottom lip. It’s so featherlight it’s barely there– his eyes are honed in on your mouth, clearly lost in thought. You’d let him stay there as long as he wants, but you want every minute you can get. “Eric–”

He closes the gap and kisses you. The way you’d said his name– or not said it, rather, you sort of mouthed it against his thumb– had done the job you wanted it to. It feels like this was the obvious conclusion to the system you’d worked out, the close proximity and your shared fears. He’s scared, he said as much last night. You’re scared, you said so just now. 

Nowhere to go, nothing else to do except be right here, living. Alive, together. Kissing Eric, and him pulling you close by the waist, so that you do swing your leg and seat yourself in his lap. And as much as you love talking, and it breaks your heart that you can’t jabber at him, there are some things you just can’t put into words. Like the way that his hand on the back of your neck lights you up inside, or that you can’t think of anything other than all the areas where his skin is touching yours, and how you suddenly wish there was way more of them.

It’s stupid how much you like him already, really. You can feel your nonexistent friends clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, saying, “One day? That’s all it takes? You find some guy at the end of the world and you fall in love in 24 hours?” And they’d be right– maybe it’s not love. Not yet, anyways. But you could see it easily becoming that. And that fact scares you even more.

Your hands find Eric’s chest and the frantic beating of his heart tells you nearly the same thing. You break the kiss, trying to quietly catch your breath without gasping like you’re half-drowning. It’s harder than you expected. 

“Been wanting to do that all morning,” Eric whispers. And just like that you’re falling again, faster this time, like he’s just melted your wings right off and sent you plummeting.

You struggle to keep from gasping aloud when he kisses your jaw, just beneath your ear. It’s the lightest touch but you swear it burns, sears your skin. 

Your hands find the back of the couch, twitchy fingers digging in to keep you steady. Your mouth finds his again, his tongue tasting of coffee, and Eric kisses you a bit harder now, a bit sloppier. 

Breaking away, you open your eyes to find his wide, starstruck, his mouth hanging open like he’s been shocked beyond belief. You didn’t honestly intend for this to happen– you wanted to talk. But somehow this seems better, more appropriate. 

How do you get your feelings across when talking isn’t really an option? When innocent attraction becomes… whatever this is? 

You press a single finger to his plush lips, signaling exactly what you mean without a word. Quiet. 

Eric purses his lips, kisses your finger without breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown out so far that the barest hint of golden brown surrounds them, glinting in the sunlight from the window. 

You lean forward, until your mouth touches his ear. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Eric,” you whisper to him, and your teeth latch onto his earlobe to tug gently. You can’t help it– you grind your hips down into his lap, without even thinking of doing it. “You’re so pretty.”

Eric whimpers. It’s a soft sound, hollow in the back of his throat, but it’s still too loud for the world that you’re in. You clamp your hand down over his mouth, and his breath comes out sharp and hot over your knuckles as he tries to regain composure.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him, whispering gently in his ear. Against you, he shakes his head no. “Want me to keep going?” Eric nods his head yes. 

He’s shaking under you, his fingertips digging into your lower back like he can’t hold onto you hard enough. At the thought, your pulse pounds, blood positively humming through your veins. 

You nuzzle his cheek, and give him the sweetest kiss you can while your hand is still clamped over his mouth insistently. “You have to be. Fucking. Silent. Do you understand?” He nods. “We can’t make a sound. Okay?” 

Eric nods again, and keeps nodding until you let him go. If the rain was still pouring like earlier, you could tell him how much you want him, too. How you don’t want to be mean, you just don’t want to get hurt. This is a bad idea, all things considered. But Eric slides his hand down and cups your ass to lift you up a bit, and the words bad and idea suddenly fucking vanish from your vocabulary.

You stand long enough to kick off your sweats, your day old panties going down with them. You hadn’t dressed to be sexy yesterday, you dressed to get groceries. You don’t necessarily want Eric to see your faded cotton underwear with the stretched out elastic and multiple frayed holes. You don’t think it would add to your sex appeal right now. 

He doesn’t notice the lack of a strip tease– he’s already taking you by the hips, not even waiting for you to shuck your t-shirt. He pulls until you’re stood in front of him, and then hooks your leg over his shoulder. 

So. Eric doesn’t need to be asked to go down on you, he just does. The gentleman. His hands are firm on your ass as he nuzzles into the patch of hair between your legs, and the precarious balancing act makes you snatch onto the back of the couch again. 

His tongue glides through the folds of your pussy slowly, methodically. You aren’t sure if he wants to take his time, or if he’s going slow so that he doesn’t make too much noise when doing it, but he latches onto your clit and sucks agonizingly softly, like he knows he should do it harder but won’t risk making you moan. 

It’s so gentle, and it builds. Pretty soon, you’re having a tough time keeping your whimpers in, even when he’s basically just teasing you, flicking his tongue over your clit with even the barest pressure. Your head has fallen back on your shoulders, your hand now clasped over your own mouth to stifle your sighs. 

Then, Eric’s hand glides up to splay across your lower back, and he sucks long and hard at your clit, and your hand squeezes murderously at the back of the couch while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue. 

Knees buckling, you collapse into Eric’s lap. He has a doe-eyed look on his face that’s way too innocent after what he just did to you. With panting breath and shaking hands, you cup his rosy cheeks in your palms, shaking your head in disbelief. 

Eric’s brows tilt in worry, like he did something wrong. He opens his mouth, but you put your fingers against his lips to silence him, and lean forward to breathe, “You’re too sweet for me, Eric.” 

He traces his fingers lightly up your spine, and turns his head. “Maybe one day I won’t have to be sweet. Maybe then I can really fuck you.” 

The sound of his whispering voice in your ear makes you shiver, your lust reaching a boiling point. The idea of him really fucking you– that this isn’t even him as normal, that he’s having to hold so much back– makes you burn hot all at once. That this isn’t something he’s planning on doing once. That there’s a ‘one day’ that he sees in the future with you in it. 

With a nod, your breath catches in your throat. You find your way to his mouth again, kissing him desperately. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips, and your hips rock forward against his again. 

Eric inhales sharply, stifling his own moan. You guess you have to take it just as slowly as he did, ease him into it. You work your hand beneath his unbuttoned fly and palm him, keeping your touch gentle against his hot skin. He shakes, his hands laid out against your spine, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at you. 

You push your forehead against his as you sink onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. His breath stutters as he tries to keep quiet, small puffs of air spilling out and meeting your electrified skin. You curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking your hips just barely, settling into his lap. 

This is more intimate than you can ever remember being with anyone, but right now it just feels right. Maybe it could be cathartic to fuck like a couple of animals in the face of doom, but Eric pulls your body flush against his, one strong forearm around your waist, and his nose nudges yours, and you think this is better. This is what you both need. Closeness. Sweetness. 

There isn’t a lot of movement– you can’t risk it. You and Eric seem to be in agreement on that, because as soon as you start trying to move in earnest, he just pulls you back to him, his arm around your waist and his hand petting the back of your head. 

Eric rocks his hips up into yours slowly, deeply, and it’s the depth of it and the slow sensuality that keeps you floating. Your clit catches on the patch of hair at the base of his cock each time you roll your hips with him, and you have to kiss him to keep from keening aloud. He doesn’t seem to mind it. 

You know he’s close when he tucks his face against your neck, his arm tightening around you. “Feels so fucking good,” comes his whine in your ear, and you gently shush him, your hand resting on the back of his head to keep him muffled against your shoulder. You want so badly to look at his face when he cums, but there’s that pesky issue of staying alive, and that hinges on whether or not he can keep quiet when he does. 

To his credit, he bites your shoulder and only whimpers a little bit. It’s just a squeak, but really, he could have been much louder about it, and then you would have both been in trouble. Imagine having to run for your life with your pants down. 

Ever the gentleman, he keeps you there even after he’s spent and sensitive, his hand clamped down on your thigh to prevent you from moving. His thumb finds your clit, and he lifts his head to watch you, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he brings you to the edge and over it again. He watches the way your brows tilt up, the way you struggle to keep your own eyes open, and the silent moan that threatens to break past your parted lips.

Eric claps his hand down over your mouth before it can. Your eyes fly open, your cunt clenches down around him, and he bares his teeth as you cum hard. It’s cyclical, comes in waves as he continues to stroke you through it, as he keeps his hand clamped down on your mouth to keep you quiet. 

To keep you quiet. 

Feverish and exhausted, you come down with your chest against his, Eric’s head flopped back onto the backrest of the couch. Your knees fucking hurt and you have yet to get off of him, and you sort of dread the moment when you have to. But this means your mouth is positioned right next to Eric’s ear, and you’re nothing if not a talker.

“Eric?” you whisper, and he turns his head just enough to let you know he heard you. “I’m glad that I met you when I did. Even if it’s terrible timing, I’m glad we met.”

A sweet, tired smile flits across Eric’s beautiful face. He nudges his nose against your temple. “I’m glad, too.” 

You shift off of him, and he squeezes your thigh just at the same time as he scrunches his face. He’s such a trooper about it, you kiss his cheek as you go, leaning over to grab a pair of earphones from the coffee table. 

You hand one ear bud to him, watching as confusion crosses his face. He watches you type on your phone as he tucks the bud into his ear, and you the other. 

On low volume, you listen to the soft piano and saxophone intro to an old jazz standard. Eric grins, his hand finding your cheek before he pulls you in for a kiss. 

And then, Billie Holiday’s voice plays for only you two to hear. 

Living for you is easy living, It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love, There’s nothing in life but you.

[sugarwarachan]

sex pollen troubles - ft. k. bakugou

summary: prohero!Bakugou gets hit with a sex quirk. too bad his roommate hates him—right?

wc: 1.8k

pairing: prohero!Katstuki Bakugou x roommate!reader

content warnings: MDNI, Bakogou has a roommate because his therapist tells him to, fem!reader is an investigative journalist, gratuitous use of Ace (hello gilmore girls fans) idiot Katsuki, pining Katsuki, fingerless gloves make an appearance sorry not sorry, making out, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names like baby, pretty girl, princess, breeding but only if you squint

a/n: word vomited this out in less than 24 hrs

He’s praying you don’t pick up.

“Bakugou?” You sound annoyed, a little suspicious even.

He never calls you.

“Ace.” You hate that nickname, but the thought of saying your actual name in the desperate growl that is his voice right now makes his head spin. “I need - fuck - are you home right now?”

Sex quirks are a dime a dozen these days. He’s been hit with a few before, simple one that are usually pretty easy to shake. (He still hates the premature ejaculate memory, though, coming home with his boxers stiff and an image of you spread out on his bed playing like a film in his head. He hadn't been able to look you in the eyes for weeks.)

He’s never been hit with one as strong as this. The second the mist hit his nostrils he was huffing up the scent of vanilla and citrus and strong black coffee, just the way you like it, before he realized what was happening, the villain ripping down the street in the opposite direction while arousal hit him like a truck.

Bakugou's practically doubled over talking to you now, the ache in his dick throbbing in time with his fucking heartbeat.

“Yeah, I’m home.” Even annoyed you sound like heaven. “What’s going on? You don’t sound like yourself.”

He barks out a laugh, and before he knows it, he's telling you the truth. “Got hit with a sex quirk. A big one.”

Your breath bitches slightly on the other line. He’s pretty sure his cock jumps at the sound.

“And I - " need you right fucking now - “fuck - I can’t call anyone else.”

It has to be you. He’s got women he could call, sure, anyone who might want to get into a pro hero’s pants, but it has to be you for a reason he doesn’t want to look at too closely.

You’re silent for a beat, before you say, “Send me a pin. I’ll come get you.”

He hated you at first. Always talking his ear off about every fucking thing, bringing up articles that remind you of cases you're covering—it was like living with Deku dialed up to 11.

But what he hated even worse was when you stopped talking. When you realized he wasn’t actually gonna come around and be nice to you, when you figured out, oh fuck, he’s actually just an angry prick, and left him alone.

One day he could count on constant chatter when he was back from patrol, the next, nothing at all. You even switched up your schedule so he barely saw you, a fact he didn’t tell his court-ordered therapist because he was supposed to be getting better at being around other people, not worse.

He hates remembering this now with his dick hard as steel and weeping from the tip like he’s fucking 15. The alley is secluded, thank fuck, so no one can see him shaking and groaning, forearms braced on the wall in front of him, head hanging down like a panting dog. He can barely move; every brush of his pants against his erection like a live wire to the brain.

By the time you pull up—five minutes, forty six seconds later, he counted—he’s so frayed and tense that the minute he sees your face, he shouts, “Took you fucking long enough."

Your face shutters closed the way it always does around him, and he wants to fucking die.

“Fuck, Ace, I’m sorry - it’s just, I’m fucking miserable right now - "

“Why did you call me, Katsuki?”

It’s a mistake to look you in the eye. His restraint is a razor’s edge at this point, and seeing your beautiful face is too much. You've always been pretty, but the light shining on your soft hair is convincing him he can write fucking poetry all of a sudden.

“You know why,” he grits out.

You step forward, vanilla and citrus and coffee flooding his nose.

“No, I don’t. You act like you fucking hate me half the time and ignore me the rest.” You scrape a hand across your face in frustration. “And then you call me sounding like that. Why wouldn't I be confused?"

“I want you.” It’s out of his mouth in a flash, and he knows it’s the right thing to say by the way your shoulders relax. “I’m a fucking asshole, I know it. I’m not good at feelings, baby, I'm sorry, but I want you so fucking bad it’s like I could break my teeth over it. It has to be you, Ace, fuck, I’m sorry, it can’t be anyone else - "

You shut him up your mouth, your lips locking into his as both of your noses bump against each other. He doesn’t care; he just needs you as close to him as he can get you. It’s better than anything he imagined, finally touching you, finally giving in to the attraction that’s dogged him ever since you walked into his life.

You taste like coffee and a little bit of that strawberry lip gloss he loves so much. He licks into the seam of your mouth and relishes the shiver that goes through your body.

“Like that, baby?” He breaks away, nosing at your jaw, nipping at the juncture of your throat. That makes you gasp. “You smell so fucking good here.” He jerks his hips, hisses through his teeth as his cock jumps in his pants, pulsing with need.

“Let me,” he hears you say, and you’re tugging his pants open to get your hand around him. The second your fingers wrap around him his eyes roll up in his head. He could cum just from this, he realizes.

“Of course you’d have a pretty dick,” you say with a look of annoyance, and he’s not entirely sure what to say to that besides puff up his chest. You laugh, and it’s almost fond, and goddammit he wants you more than he’s ever wanted anything else -

With a growl, he pulls your hand away and backs you up against the wall, peppering kisses down your neck. The whines he’s pulling from your mouth is making everything in his life worth it. He’d fight a thousand fucking villains if it meant this, fingering the seam of your panties under your little skirt as you cry out for more.

“Wear this for me?”

“Like fucking hell I did,” you retort.

“Sure thing, princess.” He runs the pad of two fingers over the soaking wet seam of your panties. A feral grin passes over his face as your thighs tremble and press together. “This just happened to you all on your own?”

He roughly pulls your panties to the side to gather up the slick at your entrance, pushing your hips apart and settling himself between them.

“You’ve gotta come first, pretty girl.” You like when he calls you pet names; he’s been watching the way your skin breaks down out in goosebumps each time. It’s a like a drug being this close to you, making you feel this good. “The second I’m inside ya I’m gonna blow my fucking load so be good and come for me, yeah?”

The rough material of his fingerless gloves rubs against your clit as he stuffs two fingers in your pussy. Your little hole sucks him in greedily as you whine and buck against him.

“Harder, Kats, please - you won’t fucking break me - "

He adds another finger to stretch you out, keeping his palm rocking against your pubic bone with every grind. You’re fluttering around his fingers, whimpers echoing off the walls in the alley.

“That’s it, baby, there you go. Fuck, yeah, you like me stuffing this pretty pussy full?” You dig your nails into his scalp as you hold onto him for dear life, whimpers ratcheting up to moans and cut-off screams as he starts to feel your cunt clamp down hard on him.

You moan his name against his neck as you cum. “Just needed to think about me stuffing you full?” He can’t help but smirk, which quickly turns into a hissing groan when your hand finds him again and positions him right at your core.

“I could say the same for you,” you smirk, rolling your hips and coating the head of his cock in the slick of your orgasm. He chokes on his spit, bracing one forearm on the wall behind you, his free hand stilling your hips in place.

“Lift me up,” you pout.

“Didn’t know you were bossy.”

“Didn’t think you would like it,” you shoot back, rolling down onto his cock and taking an inch of him inside you. “This position’s better, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is, you devil woman.” He can barely think. “Baby, I don’t - god fucking damn it - I don’t have any - "

“I’m on birth control and I’m clean.”

“Same. Clean, too, I mean.” He’s rambling. He never rambles. “I’ve got my check-up stats in my phone if you’d like to see them.”

You laugh, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard in his entire life.

“Can I kiss you?”

It takes him aback, but he’s been dying to know what you taste like since he met you, honestly.

“Yeah, pretty girl. You can kiss me.” He nips at your mouth and laughs at your pout when he pulls away. “Let me get all the way inside ya though first, huh?”

He feeds you his dick inch by inch, clenching his teeth at the way you squirm and plead for more. You’re slippery and warm, your cunt making obscene squelching noises with every rock of his hips.

With one final thrust, he’s seated up to the hilt, balls slapping against the meat of your thighs and ass.

“So fucking perfect,” he moans in your ear. “All for me - just for me, isn’t that right, Ace?”

Your head jerks up and down in affirmation.

“Say it, pretty girl. Say you’re fucking mine. Tell me how much you like my dick getting this pussy nice and tight. Bet I can get her to scream again, huh?”

He pinches your clit between two fingers. You jerk in his arms.

“Close, princess? Like it a little mean?”

He rocks his his up so he’s dragging the head of his cock across your g spot, over and over. Your eyes roll back in your head and your breathing gets shallower, shorter.

“Please please don’t fucking stop, ohmygodohmygod feels so fucking good, Kats- "

Your pussy clamps down on him like a vice and all rhythm flies out the window. He grabs the meat of your hips and fucks up into you roughly, shooting thick ropes of cum against your cervix.

The creamy sticky ring at the base of his cock when he pulls out is probably the hottest thing he’s ever seen in his life.

He looks up at you, sees the appreciative gleam in your eye. You're turned on by that, too.

“Can we do this again when we’re home?” he asks. “Maybe after I’ve made you dinner?”

The smile you return is like the sun. “We better.”

[seraphdreams]

GOT MILK? | TOJI FUSHIGURO.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. what happens when you invite an unexpected guest into your home? lucky for you, this one cares about your health!

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. fem!reader / milkman!toji, smut, cliche porn trope, size kink, coercion, food play, a bit prey/predator dynamics, 1950s-esque setting, toji’s huge, unprotected “love-making”, mdni <3.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 3.3k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! it’s been a while, hasn’t it? i’m so so sorry i’ve been away from writing :( but trust me, we’re so back !! this is actually my first full length toji fic n i’m so excited 4 you all to read it . . i wanted to keep it light and cliche for all of our pleasure. this took me about two months to write on n off, but !! if you like this n enjoy it, please comment / reblog ! i’ll make you all a glass of seraph’s special milk, thank u ♡ a big shoutout 2 @gh4ul for beta reading ! i love u so muchie!!

fluorescent shimmers of the setting sun pierced through your living room window, beyond pastel curtains, and onto the curvature of your face as if the sun itself used you like its own canvas while you lounged upon the couch. soft murmurs of whichever television show you had fallen asleep watching hummed within the four thin walls of your flat, creating the perfect ambiance for a peaceful late afternoon nap.

it wasn’t as though you had done much during the day, aside from indulging in your boredom with the mundane baking of cookies, taking two batches to get right, alongside tidying your room.

although currently, you slept soundly in a way that came off as daunting to others; torso clad in a thin tank top paired with little pink shorts that could’ve been mistaken for underwear by any onlooker, with your hand rested just below your abdomen, chest rising and falling in the most harmonious synchronicity.

vulnerable, like prey unknowing of its predator.

fortunately, the neighborhood you resided in was safe. some sweet suburban city where everyone knew each other more than they knew themselves, and the thought of anything being remotely out of place sent residents into a frenzy. it was innocuous to assume that not much out of the ordinary took place. or that was the case, until —

knock, knock.

“delivery for y/n?”

stirring in your sleep, you prayed that the owner of the baritone voice that had woken you up was just some figment of your imagination, some effect of unintended lucid dreaming perhaps. yet, upon blinking open unfocused, bleary eyes, and the loud couplet of knocks on the door following soon after, you were pulled out of dreamland and into the vexing reality.

three more firm knocks paired with a gruff tone calling out flatly, “delivery,” was enough to have your body sashaying involuntarily to your front door.

whoever was outside was insinstently persistent. if they had thought to put even an ounce more strength into those compact knocks, your door would have been long gone by now.

“coming!” the dulcet tone of your voice was riddled with exhaustion and you were unsure if the sound had resonated with the stranger on the other end, your internal query being answered once the relentless abuse of your front door had ceased.

you had ignored the fabric of your meager top, not quite noticing the way the strap so slightly dropped from your shoulder, leaving such a beautiful expanse of skin exposed to, and for, anyone. swiftly, you had opened the door for your unexpected visitor.

there, stood some dark haired man, taller and bigger than any other man you’ve known in the neighborhood. he must have had to be over 6’0, with a stature so broad, chiseling muscles barely hidden underneath the thin fabric of his uniform. his white hat tilted upward, and as your eyes descended, you caught his matching suit worn just a bit too taut. it was as if the first two buttons of his shirt were hanging on for dear life to cover what massive mounds his chest was. not to mention, how his thighs were close to breaking free from their confines.

to the right of the struggling buttons, sat a little pin that read “toji.”

he didn’t put any effort into a friendly introduction, the only hint of expression you could trace was the furrowing of his brows at his forehead as he gave you an unreadable stare.

“was told to drop this off here.” toji spoke. he held out a small wired basket with two glass jars of white liquid, seeming to be milk. maybe it had been your fuzzy, half-awake mind, and what little thoughts were up there, but you couldn’t recall a time where you had placed an order for some strange fluid.

was it a thing the neighborhood would do every once in a while?

as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and gave the handsome stranger a soft pout, you spoke airily. “what’s in the jar, sir?”

his demeanor shifted into pure displeasure, not fancying the query your hollow brain came up with. it remained undoubtedly clear that he wasn’t the most amiable of folks.

“it’s milk, darling.”

“i didn’t order any milk, sorry.” that same pout remained on your lips as you shook your head for the milkman to end a seemingly quick conversation, but just as you were about to close the door back, the pressure of his strong hand against the wood made your attempt futile.

to your surprise, a miniscule smirk was evident on his scarred features. “no?” his narrowed eyes drank you in from the bottom up as if you were lemonade on a scorching summer’s day. those same eyes skillfully darting from the spill of your breasts in your little top, up to your pretty pursed lips and doe-like orbs.

anyone could tell from a mile away what type of girl you were — the type that toji devilishly enjoys.

it wasn’t often he was presented with a doll such as yourself. sure, he could pick the mind of others increasingly well, could tell just when someone was planning to set him up (like some sort of off-duty criminal) but with you, it was as though not a thought could be lodged behind vacant eyes. everything about you was pure, untainted.

he stepped closer toward you, his foot conveniently placed between the barrier between your home and the outside. “try it for yourself. it’s fresh, and organic.” as he spoke, the glint in his deep gray eyes had overturned into a sly darkness. and when you shook your head at his advance, he only scoffed, peering in closer until he fully stepped foot into your abode.

“oh, c’mon,” vexation laced his tone. “don’t make my job harder than it already is.”

his hauntingly large frame eclipsed yours, the sun casting a backlit shadow behind his silhouette, like something out of a 50’s horror film. at that moment, you were in no position to deny his simple request.

it was just milk, perhaps he wanted an honest review.

your eyes met his, and you swallowed thickly as you hoped that courage would fill the void in the pit of your stomach. “how much for a glass?” softly, your question floated in tense air. a smirk upticks on his face as he reaches into the basket, holding up the larger jar of the two settled in the basket.

“for you, it’s free of charge.”

maybe you should’ve questioned the insubstantial value, for nothing in this economy was truly ever free.

you take the bottle from him, popping open the lid and taking a sip. the unnerving feeling of greedy eyes caused goosebumps to form over your skin. the liquid certainly had a thicker texture to it, possibly an ode to its organic nature; and as you sipped and sipped, you failed to notice the drippage that rolled amply down the side of your mouth to your chest. toji, however, caught sight of it — because, of course he did.

after you had your sample size, you took a manicured thumb to glossy lips, wiping your bottom lip to collect the remnants before taking your tongue to your thumb to lick up the remains.

in that moment, you reminded him of a kitten, some meek animal vastly trusting of the others in its environment.

his smirk grew wider and he closed the door behind him as he stepped closer, now merely a few inches away from your figure. “oh, but miss,” his voice full with anything but a genuine concern for you, he traced his finger along the trail of milk that lingered at your chest. “you missed a spot.”

his sudden touch startled you in such a way that shifted your body to jolt once you felt his cool fingertips. that same motion forced you to completely forget about the open jar in your hand, accidentally spilling an even larger amount of milk all over yourself in the process.

drenched in the liquid, your top became practically see-through with only the sight of your pert nipples showing underneath. it's candy for the eye, toji’s at least.

“you gonna keep that on, princess? you’ll catch a cold.” his voice feigns concernment towards you, as if he pitied the pathetic state he put upon you. in that moment, sheepishness clouds your empty head, and if you could cower away, you would; but instead, you took him up on his suggestion, turning your back to him and doing away with the thin barrier.

“gimme a minute to change.” you shyly said as you looked back at him with a hand barely covering your chest.

how cute you were, so willing to invite a stranger into your home and even strip for him — were you always this welcoming?

before you could scuttle to your room, you felt a firm grip on your arm. toji, now clearly having fun with you, had given you a menacing smirk along with a tsk of his tongue. “you’re still all wet,” he turned you back around to face him in one swift motion. “let me clean you off.” his hand slowly trailed up your arm and to the swell of your breasts where he cupped one in his large, calloused palm. the feeling of his rough fingertips over your bare skin caused you to break out in a shudder. “s-sir, i don’t think..”

he shushed you the moment his thumb rolled over your hard nipple, milk still dripping down your skin. with one hand, he pulled you in tight by your waist, and with the other, he aided himself in wrapping his lips around your nipple. you could only describe his touch as hungry, rough as if the opportunity to take advantage of your vulnerability would slip away into thin air. he locked steel grey eyes with you as he did so. once he got his fill of toying with your sensitive mounds, he switched his sucking motions into little bites.

his deep groans and your soft whines filled the space instantaneously. he’d rotate from one breast to the other until he felt you growing weak in his hold, the squeeze of your thighs telling him everything he needed to know about your desire. and when he felt satisfied with the level at which he teased you, he unlatched.

it felt as if all air had rushed out of your system from the raspy whines you had let out during his ministrations. you took a moment to catch your breath and regain composure as he stood up tall to his original position.

oddly enough, comfortability grew within you, possibly the adrenaline of a handsome stranger feeding your mind with illicit thoughts. “am i all clean now?” your voice comes out shaky, feeble with lust, and as your eyes scanned his formidable appearance, down to the bulge that left his sheer size to anything but the imagination, you grew greedier.

“squeaky fucking clean.” his response comes off as a growl. “how about some real milk as a reward, sweetheart?”

you tilted your head, as a confused puppy would, looking up at him with spacey eyes. “real milk? i thought i was just drinking it?” he smiled at your perplexity, finding you too cute to let go. “that milk,” he pointed at the bottle you set on the counter beside you. “isn’t as organic as it claims. you need the real thing in ya.”

toji fumbles with his belt buckle, unfastening it until he could comfortably whip his cock out. you had never seen something so large, so girthy that it instilled a blend of fear and excitement within you. “on your knees, pretty thing.” he demanded. “gotta make sure my girl grows big and strong.”

you complied, obviously. when someone as sturdy as him tells you to do something, it’s only natural that you do it.

with your weight now rested on your knees, your job was easy. you wrapped a feeble hand around the base of his cock, mouth agape in bewilderment that he could barely fit in the cusp of your hand. toji let out a hiss under his breath once your hand began to diligently slide up and down his shaft. slick dribbled into the rapture of your enclosed fist from just how turned on he was. as you continued to teasingly pump him, your tongue darted to place gentle kitten licks paired with tender kisses to his angry tip. “you’re real confident now, aren’t ya?” he goads, though not necessarily in a mirthful manner.

a soft pout forms at your lips upon hearing his words, urging you to increase your pace by a minuscule amount. once you had gotten familiar with the monster in your palm, you wrapped your lips around the head, slowly inching yourself down his shaft until your nose met the unruly hairs of his pelvis. he was heavy in your jaw, a telltale sign that you’d end up with a strong ache that’d take days to soothe; and the throb of his length only led to the gush in your panties.

as you began to bob your head, toji threw his head back, large hands gripping at your jaw to keep you nice and puckered for him. the sensation of his plush tip bullying the back of your throat causes you to moan, a sound, and a feeling, that toji doesn't miss. you pick up your rhythm, but shortly after, toji starts up his; slamming his cock into your unexpecting mouth with no remorse.

rough ministrations urged you to gag until you came to ignore the feeling and focus on his pleasure, innocent and teary eyes showing through a wall of thick lashes up at him. what a cocky bastard.

“c’mon, you can take more, can’t ya?” he goads, his vocables resonating in a choppy cadence underneath the guise of his groans. “dontcha want milk?”

the mix of saliva and his precum trailed from your mouth as his heavy balls slammed against your chin. you took notice of how his vigorous pace faltered, signally an orgasm just seconds away.

one thrust. two thrust. three.

he’d managed to hold your face to his pelvis as he fucked through his orgasm, a deep groan bellowing through the air while he painted your throat in his seed.

what a liar. he didn’t taste anything like milk.

slowly, he pulls away and spurts the last few drops of cum onto your swollen lips, where he took much needed amusement in your starry eyed gaze.

your heavy pants were like music to his ears, something he wished he could etch into his memory for years to come.

“it’s all messy.” you mewled, licking at the seed that dripped to your lips. his hands were glacial as you felt them on your face while he leaned down to be eye level with you. “oh, i know. lemme take care of that.” he swiped his tongue against your bottom lip, drinking in his own orgasm before taking you into a heated kiss.

it was a brief moment, so brief you were too lightheaded to even realize how he manhandled you into the perfect position — bent over to touch your toes.

he pulled away, roughly tugging at your little shorts until they pooled at your ankles. you felt him slide his cock over your panties just before pushing them to the side to line it up with your slit.

all toji wanted to do in that moment was slide right in, but he knew he couldn’t. you just weren’t wet enough to handle all of him. and besides, he definitely didn’t want to deal with a whining princess suggesting that it “doesn’t fit.”

instead, he slid his sensitive cock between your folds. “gotta get you nice ‘nd ready,” he spoke while reveling in the way that his tip catched at your poor, neglected clit. “feel flattered, i don’t do this for everybody.”

each slide jolted your body as the slightest tinge of pleasure coursed within you. it wasn’t enough to get you feeling close, no, but it was ample in gushing more slick from your hole.

“t-toji, sir, please..” you had let out a soft, vexed sigh at the lack of feeling, wiggling your hips to create friction in any type of way.

it reigned pointless, as most things did with toji. he was too busy focused on the sheen covering his cock from just toying with your angelcunt that whatever nonsense you were spouting was irrelevant to him. he continued his motions until the tightening of your core and fluttering of your pussy told him everything he needed to know.

satisfied with the level at which he teased you, he halted. just before you could fucking cum. you let out a frustrated whine that didn’t mean much to him, agitated by the loss of sensation.

in mere moments, he was pushing himself past your walls, stretching you out while your little cunt struggled to accommodate his size. “w-what if it doesn’t fit..?” you managed to babble out in your pathetic state.

oh, if your nosy neighbors knew that sweet little princess down the street was getting her cunt stretched out by the milkman, they would have a conniption.

toji smirked at your concern, ultimately brushing you off while continuing to urge himself even deeper. “let’s just make it fit then.”

the feeling of being stuffed full was unlike anything you’d experienced in the past. your past partners weren’t much to moan at, but toji? he had you grasping at any surface to give you leverage. as soon as he bottomed out, you could feel the tip rubbing so deliciously against the hollow of your cervix, the tinge of pain going unnoticed from how riddled with desire you were for him. with confirmation that he was fully inside, toji began to set a rough pace, strokes deep and firm enough to have you jolting forward with every thrust.

you scrambled to hold onto anything for dear life, afraid that your knees would grow weak and give out underneath your own weight. though, he kept his hands taut at your hips, only speeding up his potent thrusts to taunt you even more for your lack of stability.

fucked dumb within the first few seconds, drool dribbled past your lip, your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as you tried to take everything you were given.

with the intense way your walls were hugging around his cock, he couldn’t help but let out something of a deep, guttural groan. you had reached behind you to press a feeble hand to his abdomen, hoping it would ease his ministrations, yet your adorable action only caused the opposite.

he took your wrists in his one hand, pulling you up to hit deeper within your walls. “fuck! ‘s too d-deep!” you cried out, that familiar coil of pleasure tightening within your being, and to your dismay, he only held you closer against his chest, other hand gripping at your jaw while his cock milked your gspot for all it’s worth.

“too deep? this too deep for ya?” toji taunts. “i thought you knew how to take dick, you sure looked like it.”

his grip at your face only tighten an ounce more as he waited for whatever nonsense you could muster out.

“i-i can..! i c’n take it!”

only seconds later did your high come crashing down, sending your body into a flutter of shocks. a sensation so perfervid, it had your mind hazy while you creamed all over his cock.

following suit, in a bout of thrusts, toji was painting your insides with his warm wet seed, only pulling out once he felt you go limp in his hold.

“don’t tap out on me now, you haven’t even paid for the milk.”

[tfwbluu]

PAIRING — ni-ki + f!reader

WARNINGS — porn with little plot, pet names, light choking, ki’s lowkey possessive, slight size kink, oral (f. rec), raw sex (wrap it up), praise, fingering, squirting, creampie, overstimulation.

WORDCOUNT — 2K

NOTE — this is purely self indulgent because i’m down bad TT i haven’t wrote smut in so long pls bare w me. lmk if i missed anything in the warnings !

As the weather grew colder and Christmas approached, the festive spirit had already begun spreading. Homes were glowing with decorations, and you were no exception. You found yourself setting up some lights on the tiny Christmas tree Jungwon had insisted he’d get for you.

“It’s no fun if we don’t decorate a little bit!” he had complained. Unable to say no to him, you had simply agreed, though decorating wasn’t usually your thing.

Sitting on the couch, lost in thought, you didn’t hear the door open or the faint “I’m home” that followed.

Riki walked in, noticing you hadn’t heard him. With a mischievous smile, he decided to tackle you from behind, making you yelp in surprise.

“Caught you,” he teased, his voice playful.

You let out a small pout but slowly relaxed into his arms. “You scared me,” you murmured, resting your hands on his arms.

A stray thought flickered through your mind as you noticed his arms. ‘Have they gotten bigger since last time?’

“What’s my baby got running through her pretty little head?” Riki asked, moving you onto his lap, positioning you sideways so he could see your face.

“Nothing much,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I was just thinking about what to get you and the others for Christmas. Honestly, I have no idea.” Your fingers idly played with the rings on his fingers.

“You know you don’t have to get us anything, right?” Riki chuckled. “I’m sure the guys would be more than happy if you just made them that steak of yours again. Remember how they devoured it last time?”

You smiled softly but shook your head. “I’d feel bad not giving you guys something when you all keep showering me with gifts…”

Your hands finally settled on his, the size difference between your hands and his catching your attention.

Riki hummed thoughtfully, letting you sit in silence for a moment. Then, an idea seemed to light up his mind, making him sit up a little straighter.

“There is something I’d like to have for Christmas,” he said, pulling you closer.

“Hmm? What is it?” you asked, looking up at him with curious, doe-like eyes.

“You.”

Before you could process his words, Riki pushed you down onto the couch, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. His hands cradled your neck while yours pressed against his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

A small moan escaped your lips as his hand slipped under your shirt, caressing your waist. The chill of his rings against your skin sent goosebumps racing across your body.

His kisses grew more feverish, each one more desperate than the last, as if silently begging for more. His tongue flicked against your lips, before he pulled away slightly, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

“Let’s move somewhere more comfortable, yeah?” he murmured, pulling away just enough to look into your dazed eyes.

You nodded, unable to form coherent words. Smiling at your silent agreement, Riki effortlessly scooped you up into his arms and carried you toward your bedroom.

Riki skillfully opened the door to your room, locking it behind him before settling you gently onto the bed. Hovering above you, he captured your lips in another kiss, this time deeper, more desperate. Your hands wrapped around his neck, fingers threading through his hair, tugging lightly, eliciting a low groan from him.

His lips trailed from your cheek down to your neck and collarbone, suckling softly on the sensitive skin, leaving faint marks that would remind you of this moment. You leaned back, granting him more access, and he took full advantage, his hands slipping to the hem of your (or rather, his) oversized shirt, silently asking for permission.

“Go ahead, Ki,” you breathed, your voice soft yet full of anticipation.

With your approval, he gently removed the shirt, revealing your bare chest. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight before him, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Not wearing anything underneath, huh, baby?” he teased, pressing a kiss between your breasts.

“That wasn’t on purpose,” you mumbled, cheeks flushed crimson as his lips moved closer to your sensitive peaks.

“Hmm,” he hummed in amusement, his lips latching onto your right nipple while his hand cupped and teased the other. He alternated between soft kisses, flicks of his tongue, and gentle sucks, drawing whimpers from you as your body arched under his ministrations.

Your hands found the hem of his shirt, tugging at it with need, silently pleading for him to remove it. Riki obliged, swiftly discarding the fabric before resuming his trail of kisses along your body.

“My,” kiss. “Pretty,” kiss. “Girl,” kiss.

You sighed, hands pulling his face back up to meet yours. Your lips melded together in a fervent kiss, the heat between you both intensifying as your hands explored the expanse of his bare skin, savoring the warmth of his touch and the electricity sparking between you. Riki broke the kiss, leaving you breathless and whining in protest as you instinctively chased his lips.

“Patience angel,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His hands slid down to your pajama pants, tugging them off slowly along with your panties. You tried to lift your hips to help, your body trembling with anticipation.

When he finally had you bare, his eyes darkened at the sight of how wet you were. He groaned, settling between your legs and hooking them over his shoulders. His arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you firmly in place as he glanced up at you, silently asking for permission.

Growing impatient, you reached down and gently pushed his head closer. He smirked, taking it as a clear sign to continue. With a lingering kiss to your folds, he dragged his tongue slowly up your slick heat, making you shudder.

A moan escaped your lips, your fingers gripping the sheets as the tension inside you grew. Riki’s tongue worked skillfully, alternating between broad strokes along your folds and flicks against your clit. When he sucked on your swollen bud, your moans grew louder, hips arching off the bed in response.

“Fuck... Riki~!” you cried, your body quivering as his hand moved to join his mouth. Two fingers slid into you with ease, curling perfectly to hit the sensitive spot inside you. He continued his relentless assault, his lips and tongue never straying from your clit as his fingers worked you closer to the edge.

“I—I’m close! Riki!” you gasped, the pressure in your stomach snapping as your release gushed out. He groaned, eagerly lapping up your juices, his hand still coaxing more from you as your body spasmed beneath him.

You collapsed back against the bed, panting heavily, your head spinning from the intensity. But just as you thought he was done, his lips returned to your overstimulated core.

“Can’t—!” you tried to protest weakly, your body too sensitive.

“Yes, you can, angel. Take it like a good girl,” he growled, his voice laced with determination as he continued devouring you. Despite the overwhelming sensations, your hips bucked instinctively against his mouth, chasing a pleasure you could barely handle.

Before long, another wave of ecstasy crashed over you, and you cried out his name as your release coated his tongue. He drank it all, not wasting a drop, and when he finally pulled away, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning down at you.

“Sweet,” he remarked, his voice husky and satisfied as you lay there, your chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes fluttering shut as you tried to regain your breath.

Riki leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as you tried to steady your breathing.

“You okay, pretty?” he asked softly, tucking the stray strands of hair away from your face.

You gave him a small, tired smile and nodded.

“I need words, angel,” he murmured, his tone gentle but firm.

“I’m okay,” you assured him, your voice just above a breath.

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Good,” he replied, his voice dropping a pitch. “Because I’m not done yet.”

Before you could fully process his words, he slipped off his pants, his arousal springing free and standing proudly against his stomach. His body loomed over yours, exuding raw desire.

He carefully turned you over, guiding you onto your stomach, your front pressing against the soft sheets. A small groan escaped your lips at the soreness, but your curiosity got the better of you as you glanced back at him. His hands spread your legs apart, and you felt the tip of his cock teasing your folds.

“Riki...” you moaned softly, your body trembling in anticipation.

Without a word, he slowly pushed into you, both of you moaning as he stretched you out, filling you completely. He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size before he started moving.

With each thrust, you felt your body arch against him, your hands clutching the sheets beneath you. The pleasure was overwhelming, and your moans threatened to spill over, but you instinctively buried your face in the mattress to muffle them.

Riki noticed immediately and leaned forward, his right hand wrapping around your neck as he pulled you upright.

“Don’t hide from me, angel,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. “I wanna hear how good I make you feel.”

A shaky cry left your lips as he thrust into you harder, the sound unrestrained this time.

“Fuck...” you whimpered, your mind a hazy mess. The coolness of his rings against your neck, the way he filled you perfectly—it was all too much.

He tugged you into a messy kiss, his lips capturing yours as both of you moaned against each other. When he released you, he gently pushed your back down, letting you brace yourself against the bed once more.

“Feels good, yeah?” he asked, his rhythm relentless now.

“Y-Yes!” you cried, your voice high-pitched and desperate.

“My good girl, taking me so well,” he praised, his lips trailing kisses along your back and shoulders.

“Hmm~! Your good girl!” you managed to reply through your moans.

“Yes, you are,” he affirmed, his voice filled with pride.

His thrusts grew faster and more erratic as he chased his release, one hand gripping your neck lightly while the other found your clit, rubbing in time with his movements.

“Rikiii!” you wailed, your body trembling as your orgasm hit, pulsing around him.

He groaned, burying himself deep inside you as he followed right after, his release spilling into you in hot spurts. He stilled, his breaths heavy as he let himself empty completely.

As he pulled out, he watched as his cum dripped from your swollen folds, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.

Riki turned you over, gently cradling your face as he captured your lips in a heated kiss. His fingers gathered some of his release, pushing it back into you, eliciting a muffled moan as you melted into the kiss.

Before you could recover, you felt the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance again. Your eyes widened, and you gasped softly.

“Just one more, baby,” he whispered against your lips, his voice deep and coaxing. Without hesitation, he pushed inside you again, filling you up.

Your body trembled, the overstimulation making you whine, but he only responded by moving your legs up over his shoulders, letting him reach even deeper. Each thrust had you crying out, his movements calculated and intense.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” he groaned, his eyes locked on yours. “All mine to fuck, hmm?”

You couldn’t form a response, your mind blank from the pleasure. Instead, you moaned mindlessly, your back arching as he kept hitting spots that left you breathless.

Riki leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he pressed your hands beside your head, pinning you to the bed.

“Hope you’re ready for the rest of the night, angel,” he murmured, his tone filled with a teasing affection. “I want to make the most out of my Christmas present.”