#zero escape all-ice

[paeden-babyboiiii]

Loved the episode. This is a little something I thought of while listening to it

I know the mummy myth exists and that’s why it’s in both of them but idk… When Beth talked about the mummy my mind automatically went to Zero Escape

[astralynx]

Santa: Dry ice is just frozen carbon dioxide, right?

Junpei: Yeah, it is.

Santa: I wonder how warm it has to get for it to turn back into gas again...

Junpei: Hell if I know. How's that gonna help us, anyway?

Santa: Oh, well, I figured we might be able to use it to get out of here.

They were about to move on when June spoke up.

June: Carbon dioxide's sublimation point is -109 degrees. Any warmer than that, and it'll turn into gas. Any lower, and it becomes a solid.

Junpei looked at her, dumbfounded.

Junpei: How do you know that?

June: Tee-hee. Despite my looks, I'm the Qleen...bleh. Ahem...the Queen of random knowledge.

Junpei: Looks bad to mess up when you're showing off.

June: Argle mouf *Mumble* *Mumble*

Junpei: Oh, you're so cold your mouth's going numb?

June: Yef. Wats wite.

Junpei: ...You're just doing that on purpose, aren't you?

June giggled, and did her best to hide her guilt. At least she was still feeling good enough to joke around, Junpei told himself.

Santa: C'mon guys... Don't you think that's kinda weird? I wonder why it doesn't turn into a liquid first...

Santa was now shivering at an astounding rate, but his curiosity seemed unaffected.

[ultdeimoskinnie]

alice? all-ice? idk but she slays tbh

[image id: the character alice from virtue’s last reward. she is floating in front of a blue geometric background, dressed in a blue-black skirt, a large round piece of gold jewelry covering her chest and neck, gold shoes, and a cream coloured blazer. her left arm slightly held away from her waist and her other arm is by her face. her legs are crossed. text above her bracelet reads “+3 BP (bracelet points). END ID.]

[kayzero]

Rhizomes, A Brief History (Part 1)

spoilers for zero escape: virtue’s last reward under the cut

So the basic premise of the Rhizome that I’m working with assumes that the Moon is a planetoid without a molten core, and that it’s because of its shape rather than its size that enables it to orbit the Earth. The science then assumes that there’s a weight variance of about 10-15% going either way before it starts to negatively affect the Earth.

So, keeping the shape in mind, what the engineers did is they designed the Rhizome to be built modularly but underground so that there wouldn’t be any giant structures throwing off the Moon’s orbit. And what the constructors did to help is get the approximate weight of a cubic meter of Moon rock (by having the astronauts bring the rock down to earth), and then create construction materials that were built solid while weighing about as much as the amount of moon rock they would replace.

The ease of modular building enabled the inhabitants of the Rhizome project to build their own living space with minimal assistance from construction crews. This enabled the UN to hire workers and pay them a retainer to live onsite and work the plug-n-play. But every Rhizome always starts with the same basics: two warehouses stacked on top of each other, a three-story service lift connecting the warehouses and the Moon’s surface, and crew quarters split off one of the warehouses, dealer’s choice.

Crash Keys, an investment firm known to the UN as unfocused in regards to acquisitions but *scarily* accurate as an information broker, was easily able to get exclusive rights to Rhizome 9 on *very* short notice. Due to this short notice, only the listed basics were built into the Moon.

(And if they passed a tip to the UN in early January that the Project needed to speed up a little, enabling the construction of over fifty Rhizomes by April, well. They *are* known for their accuracy.)

all of that to say that by the end of the Diana period of the 45 Year Foretold section, Rhizome 9 only has eight rooms besides the warehouse, and four of them aren’t there until about year three or so. the original four rooms Sigma and Diana have to work with are the four crew quarter rooms from the game. one room is housing the cryo pods, one room that doubles as the medical office if one of them gets sick and Diana’s biomed classroom, one is Sigma’s bedroom (for sleeping and studying *only*, no shenanigans), and the last is Diana’s, which Sigma has never seen before.

[chiakinanami82]

Alice in the MLP au!

I love how Alice looks in the MLP au. Also, her name’s a bit ironic, since she created quite a bit of conflict during the game.

[demonlordcosnime]

lets play zero escape virtue last reward part 47

[k-hotchoisan]

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

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

his favourite

<prof!san x fem!reader>

Prof Choi likes playing favourites.

You’re his favourite.

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

Word count: 12.3K

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

apply for taglist here!

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

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

“Why not try for the department chair?”

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

“Who?”

“Professor Choi?”

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

“Why the fuck would I try him?” 

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

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

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

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

Right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who did you get?”

“Choi San.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

That sealed your fate. 

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

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

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

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

Until now that is. 

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

You had to collect yourself before Prof Choi collected you. 

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

“Come in.”

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

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

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

Fuck, he’s still so handsome.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re usually in a little earlier.”

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

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

“What’s this?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the hell were you thinking?

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

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

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

“Huh?” Is all you manage to reply. 

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

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

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

“So you’re single”, you echo.

He nods, “I’m single.” 

What is this strange feeling of relief?

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

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

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

You glare at him. 

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

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

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

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

You did? “I did?”

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

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

“Is that why you kept-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re going off with Choi Jongho?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow hard, your body still frozen in spot. 

“What do you think about him then?” 

“Jongho? I was just-“

“No. Choi San.”

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

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

“I t-think Prof-“

“San. Choi San”, he corrects you. 

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

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

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

“Mmhm.”

“And he’s really so-“

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you Prof Choi. See you tomorrow.”

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

“See you too, y/n.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You try out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Prof. Hey cutie.” 

San blinks. What did he just call you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, Is San not going?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cute? You think Jongho is…cute?” 

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

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

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

“Well, I mean-“

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

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

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

“Prof-“

“No. It’s sir.”

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

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

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Yes, sir.”

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

“Good girl.”

Of course, he claims it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you asking?”

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

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

“Y/n?”

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

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

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

You laugh softly at his words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You force a smile and shake your head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n”, you hear San call you. 

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

“Come here. Help me look at this.”

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

And it definitely seems to be ticking him off. 

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

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

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

He’s making you face him now. 

You’re still not giving him eye contact. 

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

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

Shit. You know that clear as day. 

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

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

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

And you’re finally looking right at him. 

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

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

He leans in closer. 

“Then why are you avoiding my eye contact?”

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

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

San is waiting for you to continue. 

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

“And?”

“It made me want…more.”

There’s a moment of silence.

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

It makes your heart flutter. 

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

This is not right. This is so dangerous. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir, I’m not sure-“

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

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

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

God, Choi San thinks he’s in heaven. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please what, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Especially one of them. 

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

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

He bites his cheek. 

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

He just doesn’t know how to tell you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck just happened?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S-sir…!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. Oh god. 

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

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

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

Your mind is a complete puddle. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now on your knees.” 

You’ve never dropped to your knees so fast.

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

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

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

“Look at me”, he instructs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-yes sir.” 

“How are you feeling?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We need to talk-“

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

But you’re stubborn. 

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

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

“We didn’t kiss”, you reiterate. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But why would he do that for?”

“He was trying to rile you up.”

“For what?”

“To see if you felt anything for me?”

“By kissing you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me what?”

“That I’m in love with you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The moment I received your teaching assistant application.”

📚 Bonus Epilogue 📚

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

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

“Yes?” 

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

San nods, taking the papers from her. 

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

“Prof, you’re married?”

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

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

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

“I am.”

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

“Tell me more then”, she asks. 

San scoffs playfully, turning his gaze to her. 

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

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

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

network: @atzhouse @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

[space-cowgirllll]

Die With A Smile

Outbreak Day with ex-girlfriend Abby?

a/n: idk what lady gaga and bruno put in this song fr. I should have been studying for an Ochem exam but here we are lol.

"Government officials met today to discuss the recent spikes in hospitalizations all across the globe over the past week, with talks of setting up government run quarantine zones in all major cities." 

You perk up from your spot on the couch, trading the carton of ice cream in your hands for the TV remote. The local newswoman's voice fills the quiet space as the volume increases. You immediately recognize the hospital in the background. 

"Hospital staff everywhere are overwhelmed with the influx of patients coming in with symptoms of this mysterious virus. For the time being it is highly recommended that any travel plans be postponed. International flights have started being cancelled, leaving hundred of people stranded. The CDC advises everyone to remain calm  and continue to follow your city's imposed emergency curfews as they work towards finding the cause." 

The face-mask you'd slathered on earlier hardens as she lists off the symptoms to look out for: sudden mood changes, muscle spasms, and slurred speech. You can't wrap your mind around a simple virus causing all this. Your stomach sinks in realization, this is definitely more serious than anybody was letting on. 

Without even thinking you reach for your phone, quickly scrolling through your contact list until you land on the one person you've been avoiding. Abby, your ex girlfriend of six months. Your finger hovers over her number, wondering if this was worth breaking three months of no contact when loud screams come from the television. You look up just in time to see the blast of an explosion before the screen goes blank. Static stares back you. 

Your finger mashes down on the touchscreen with zero hesitation as you run to the sink, hands desperately scrubbing at your face while you wait for her to answer. You don't even stop to consider you might be blocked. 

Please pick up, please pick up, please.

"Hello?" Abby's panicked voice sounds through the phone. 

"Oh my god Abs. Are you okay?" You ramble. "I just saw the news and I- there was an explosion."

"I had to home to change. " Her voice is shaky, turn signal clicks faintly in the background. "I was still close enough to- OH MY GOD!" The sound of tires screeching drown out Abby's curses. A loud boom sounds off outside, this one feels closer. "I'm....to...you" Is the last thing you hear before the line goes dead.

You throw the phone across the room, a string of curses leaving your mouth. The open window of your living room lets you hear the chaos outside before you can see it. Helicopters fly overhead and sirens sound off in the near distance. One by one, porch lights come on as your neighbors step out of their homes, confusion etched on their faces.

The sound of a door slamming open catches everyone's attention. Out of the corner of your eye you see the outlines of two people moving towards the road. Your neighbor, Claire, yells as her husband chases after her. His movements far too quick and erratic for someone his age. 

Everyone watches in shock as he catches up to her, mouth attacking the side of her neck, effectively silencing her screams. The sight is gory. You stand frozen as some of the braver ones try to help, only to be met with a similar fate before he runs off into the middle of the road, searching for his next victim. Chaos quickly ensues, people run off back to their homes, garages pop open as some try to make a quick escape. You stagger back, knocking into the side table beside the couch. A picture frame falls over, shattering loudly on wood floor.

To your absolute horror, his head snaps to your window. For the first time, you're able to catch a glimpse of him up close. Gone was the sweet old man who would help you with yard work in those first few months after Abby moved out. The skin of his face is molted, almost as if something was eating away at it. Once sparkling blue eyes are completely glazed over. The bloodthirsty look on his face sends you reeling. 

His mouth parts open letting out a loud screech, ready to lunge through the thin window screen when a familiar black truck slams into him. Abby hops out, mouth moving quickly as she shouts something at you. Between the ringing in your ears and the loud screams outside you don't register what she says. Your eyes blink rapidly, hoping the sight of your elderly neighbor under her front tire is just your imagination. In your peripheral you see the front door swing open, Abby's keychain hanging from the lock. 

Strong hands grip you by the shoulders, shaking you out of your stupor. "Baby what are you doing? We have to go!"

Her woodsy scent envelopes you as she scoops you up and carries you out bridal style before tossing you in the passenger seat. Fingers clench into the leather as the truck reverses, disturbing the once perfect lawn. Your flowerbeds and mailbox becoming casualties in the process too. 

You peel your eyes off the dash, looking out the window as she flies through residential neighborhoods. More and more people are starting to trickle out from the safety of their homes. Some running with only the clothes on their backs, others quickly shoving personal belongings in their vehicles. 

Your voice is shaky when you finally speak up. "What's going on Abigail?"

She exhales heavily, looking exhausted. "I don't know."

"Are they all like that?" 

Her jaw clenches. "The ones I've been treating are in the early stages of their symptoms, but beds are full. We've been told to turn people away to recover at home." She huffs. "I don't even wanna know how many of them are out there running around like that."

You hesitantly rub her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, slowly pulling back when she tenses. Her throat clears and the skin of her knuckles turns white as she tightens her grip on the wheel. 

"So what are we doing?"

You're shocked when she shrugs her shoulders. Abby always had a plan. You wrack your brain, trying to think of something. 

"My parent's cabin up north! We could go there." You suggest. "Y'know until everything settles down."

She makes a sharp right, following the signs pointing her to the nearest on ramp. Her fist slams against the wheel when you pull up to the main highway just five minutes later. It seems like everyone had the same idea. Cars are honking, people are screaming. Nobody is moving. The thought of sitting in bumper to bumper traffic right now doesn't sound like a smart idea.

"My apartment's in the city." Abby suddenly states. "They were setting up barricades when I left for work this morning. Flyers talking about a quarantine zone." 

She doesn't wait for your approval, sending the truck speeding towards her place. The closer you get to the city, the more erratic Abby's driving becomes. It's clear your little suburban bubble was late to the news of the outbreak. Downtown Seattle is absolute madness. Everywhere you look there's something happening. Those infected chase people up and down the streets, tackling the ones too slow to outrun them. Shops that you can remember being there your whole life are now ablaze. 

You grip onto the handle above your head watching wide eyed as Abby plows through debris in the street. Bile rises in your throat when you realize she most likely driving over the dead bodies left behind. 

The truck slows to a crawl. Concrete barricades were placed closer together here, making it impossible to get through. She silently curses at the fact that you're gonna have to leave the safety of the car and make the rest of the journey on foot. She grabs your face between her hand, forcing you to look her in the eye.

"Get ready to run baby." 

Your hand is on the handle when something crashes into your door. A scream gets caught in your throat as the infected bangs on the glass of your window before setting it's sights on the blonde. She's halfway out of the truck when she gets tackled to the ground. Her hands shoot out using all her strength to keep it from attacking her 

"Abby!"

She screams at you to run. Her arms are getting tired of holding this ridiculously strong freak back. Her hold is quickly slipping. Accepting her fate she screws her eyes shut bracing for the inevitable. A loud whack and she doesn't realize there's no longer any weight holding her down until your panicked voice is in her ear. 

"Holy fuck! Are you okay?"

You crouch beside her, a bloody metal pipe in your hands. Keeping a watchful eye on the body laying just inches from hers. She slaps your hand away, wincing when she gets up on her own. 

"Why would you do that?!" She whisper yells, unsure whether to kiss you for saving her or punching you for putting yourself in danger. "I told you to run!"

"I could never just leave you like that. You're welcome." You say through labored breaths. With a roll of her eyes she grabs your hand, sprinting in the direction of her building. 

You're thankful it's a short run from the car to her place. The two of you able to successfully hide from any other infected. It doesn't take long for either of you to realize that their vision sucks. 

The stairs up to her place are a feat of its own. You huff and puff up to the nineteenth floor, legs on fire when you finally walk through the door. 

Her apartment is spotless, because of course it is. Floor to ceiling windows give you a clear view of what seems to be the end of the world. 

"Oh my god." You stand in the middle of her room, watching in horror as explosions go off in my the distance. The ground beneath you shakes as they get closer and closer. 

Abby shakes her head in disbelief clearly putting two and two together. 

"It's so heavily populated here. They don't see the point in trying to separate the healthy from the infected." She whispers. Tears well in her eyes watching a plane purposefully fly into the ground off in the distance. The large blast setting fire to everything around it. There are more right behind it. "We're so fucked."

You watch as the fight leave her body. Your throat locks up, unable to scream at her. Wobbly legs pace back and forth in the small space trying to think of something that might work. Deep down you know it's pointless. There's no way you'd make it out of the city alive. Soft sobs wrack your body at the realization that this really is the end. 

Her shoulders slump as she sits on the bed. She gnaws on her lower lip to keep from crying too loud. "Can I hold you?" 

You nod, legs feeling like jelly. Abby reaches for you, pulling you up towards the headboard. The two of you lay beside each other breathing heavily with your hands intertwined. Tears stream down her face and onto the pillow under her head. 

She reaches over and kisses you, her shaking hand plays with the baby hairs on the nape of your neck. "My biggest regret was letting you go."

You watch face as she continues talking, lips moving against yours. "I had to stop myself from driving past the house every single day." She laughs. "Would have sat outside your door until you took me back."

"I wish you would have." You admit through a watery smile. 

"I never stopped loving you. I just want you to know that." She whispers, lips moving to kiss your temple. 

"I should have never left." Your lips meet the skin of neck tasting the salty tears that have pooled there. "I love you too Abby. So much it hurts." 

"I can't believe this is what it took for us to realize how stupid we were." She mumbles into your hair. Your face burrows into the crook of her neck. "I'm so sorry baby."

"I'm glad you came for me." You tell her, but you know she doesn't hear it. 

The walls start shaking, sending everything tumbling to the floor. You're no longer able to hear anything over the sound of a loud engine approaching. Her arms tighten around you, the two of you curl into each other. 

There's a jarring beeping in your ear just as it all goes black. 

You shoot up in bed, heart in your throat. The sound of your heavy breathing almost drowns out the harsh beeping of your alarm. Reaching over you rip the cord from the wall sitting in silence for a moment while your heartbeat returns to normal. 

The sun is shining outside, laughter from the kids across the street flows in through the small opening of your window. A lawnmower goes off in the distance.

Shaking hands fist the cool cotton of your sheets. The soft material grounding you. You look around the small room. Everything looks just as you left it. There's an empty bottle of wine on the dresser and you roll your  eyes at yourself. 

That explains it. 

You're okay. 

It was all a dream.

You jump out of bed, rushing to the bathroom before taking the stairs two at a time almost snapping an ankle. The entryway table shakes when you snatch the keys from on top of it. The warm August breeze that hits you when you walk outside makes you feel renewed. 

The quiet neighborhood looks as it always does. A couple of people are out watering their lawns while some head out for church. Claire sits on her front porch drinking a cup of coffee, giving you a little wave when she spots you pulling out of your driveway and it's a miracle you don't burst into tears. Using muscle memory you quickly punch in the number you know by heart, waiting with bated breath for an answer.  "Hello?"Your shoulders drop in relief at the sound of her voice. She's okay.

"Where are you?"

"At home," she pauses "why?"

"Perfect." You hang up before she can reply. Tossing the phone on the passenger seat you press your foot down on the gas. 

You make it to Abby's apartment building in record time, parking haphazardly by the curb. There's a ninety nine percent chance you'll come back to a parking ticket stuck to your windshield but you don't care. 

There's a moment on the elevator ride up to the nineteenth floor where you second guess yourself. Aware of how ridiculous you look in mix matched pajamas going to try and win your ex girlfriend back. You steel your nerves reminding yourself of how horrible those last few seconds of your nightmare were.  If she kicks you out you can at least say you tried. 

Abby answers the door looking mouth watering in a black tank top and gray shorts, her messy hair pulled back in a low bun. "Alright, how many traffic laws did you break on your way over here?"

"You don't wanna know." You pant, throwing yourself into her arms. 

She catches you with a soft grunt, hesitating for a second before wrapping her arms around you. The familiar scent of pine engulfs you.  

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?" Her teasing tone makes your face heat up. "I don't think random house visits on a Sunday at 8 AM fall under no contact." She quips. 

"I love you!" The words are out before you can stop yourself. "I love you and I don't want to go another day without letting you know that walking away from you was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I regret it every single day."

Abby leans back against the door with her hands still on your hips. There's a tiny grin on her face watching you spill your guts, you’re too worked up to notice. "I know we're both at the peak of our careers. I know we're busy, and there will be days we don't even get to see each other, but I'm tired of living like this. I miss you." 

You sniffle pathetically into her chest. "The world could end tomorrow and I don't want to regret never telling you how I felt." Thumbs wipe gently at your tears. "And if you don't feel the same way I underst- mmph!"

Her lips meet yours in a soft kiss, hands wandering under your shirt to caress the soft skin of your back. Neither of you make a move to deepen it, content to take it slow.

Abby pulls back first. Her eyes shine with unshed tears as she stares down at you. It suddenly hits you how much you've missed her. She brings her forehead to rest against yours. 

"Took you long enough baby."

[caraphernellie]

── 𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐜𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬.

your blood spills like a glass of fine wine.

pairing: vampire!ellie williams x fem!reader.

summary: Those ice cold hands ghost over your skin, rousing goosebumps in their wake, and your interest piqued from the moment she had proposed her idea to try something new while feeding. But this doesn't feel at all like a mere experiment, no, she's turned you into a feast—and it couldn't just be a coincidence that one of the many dirty fantasies you've had seems to be coming to fruition tonight, could it?

for your information: vampire!ellie, fem!reader. SEXUAL CONTENT. absolutely zero plot - straight up porn. messy, depraved, no decency. utter filth. established relationship. mind reading + dirty thoughts, allusions to reader masturbating. dom!ellie, sub!reader. reader wearing pretty panties. bleeding + blood (a lot of it), bite marks/bruises described - not in appearance/colouration, but the feeling of them. masochistic!reader. dacryphilia. biting. fingering (r!receiving), vampirism makes ellie very strong. there is an instance of face slapping. slight overstim. tribbing. reader gets very lightheaded and tired but still present and in clear mind. a little bit of aftercare. pet names used: good girl, baby, babe.

dear reader, you know i love me some vampires. i don't participate in kinktober because i don't have that kind of motivation + i'm picky with some of the prompts but i randomised some prompts to make something 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 for the start of this month. mostly written by candlelight. i honestly don't like this very much, but i'm sure someone will so i'm posting it anyway. beware, 'cuz she'll make you bleed ౨ৎ

　　WC: 3.9K | ELLIE'S MASTERLIST | BOYCOTT TLOU

Rain falls from the tenebrous sky outdoors, the perfect soundtrack to the book in your hands and the cosy bed you lie in. You haven't felt the need to get up all night, instead opting for a quiet, pleasant moment to catch up on reading. 

Since Ellie's turning last November, you dropped everything to be able to spend more time with your revenant girlfriend—even if it meant losing daylight to adapt to her newfound lifestyle as a nyctophiliac.

But still, you remain comfortable with the thunderous outpour, finding solace in the constancy of the noise and the safety of your bed. Escapism is necessary to your survival, as it's been difficult to navigate the changes, even now, nearly a year later. You'd turned your life nocturnal so suddenly, your family left to wonder why you and Ellie made the switch with no definitive reasoning. 

What exactly could you tell them..? The last thing you needed was their concern. 

God knows what they'd think if you told them who Ellie had become.

It's quiet nowadays, you and Ellie working nights and sleeping in days. Little time to see family or friends, the closeness you once had with them dwindling. You work from six to eleven o'clock most nights, and there's no chance of companionship in the office—you're treated like an outsider.

Life can feel drab with such little socialisation, but your setup is alright. It's comfortable. You can dream life away, easily ignore the loneliness and get lost in mystery novels instead. 

And that's the thing: mystery and doom has never been something that scared you. It is instead something that fills you with curiosity and interest. It was nothing short of intriguing to you when Ellie turned. It was devastating, and yes, it was a fearful time—but the changes she was going through were mystifying before anything else. 

It was fun to document the development of her fangs and play with mirrors. It was hard to get used to the touch that was once so warmly inviting, but now freezing. 

It was mildly disturbing to see her learn the ways of the undead now that her life had taken a turn.

It is, at times, unnerving when she becomes hungry. Purely animalistic is the way that her eyes glow in the dark of night, verdant and snake-like, dressed behind dense lashes. They anchor onto you, more specifically your neck. You had to laugh when a few weeks after her turning, she began senseless rambles about your pretty neck, how your pulse drums against your chest, wrist, or nape in a sweet rhythm.

She might catch a whiff of something coppery when you suffer any minor injury, and she'll be there in under a minute under the guise that she'd like to kiss your wound all better.

It's startling at times, turning around to find she had stalked you through the house without a sound, all in the name of requesting a feed. She follows only to beg for it like a puppy to people-food.

As far as Ellie has ever been concerned, she doesn't need to taste the blood of any other. It would be adultery of the worst kind, a pure betrayal not just to you but to her own interests; your blood is dulcet and delectable, the greatest thing Ellie has had the pleasure to taste in her life. 

Why should she need anyone else? Nothing could make her happier than you. 

Ellie truly has a deep appreciation for you. Everything you have done for her, especially in the past year since her rebirth, has been without hesitation nor the consideration of yourself. Never would she let you go unloved for such a thing. Only a vampire can love you forever, and although her immortality burdens her everyday, she intends to prove that statement true.

There are things she's never told you before, abilities she'd discovered on her own after her turning that she'd decided were better to hide from you, just to preserve your peace of mind. 

It's hardwired in her now—she can become easily overwhelmed just from being able to hear your tender heart beating rooms away. The constant, steady ba-bum, ba-bum. There are urges she gets from the sound of warm, delicious blood pumping around your body. Of course, this is all to be expected, but the extent of it is where the disconcertment lies, unbeknownst to you.

Pangs of hunger hit her like a kick to the stomach, vision zeroed in on the source of feed. Her feet feel inclined to walk her toward you themselves. It's a lucky thing that she tried her best to learn control.

Ellie's biggest kept secret, though, are your own secrets. Who wouldn't toy with the idea of living inside their partner's mind for a day? For a vampire, it's possible, under a specific circumstance. Just like one's resting place, a vampire can only enter under invitation, and each thought bearing her name is exactly that. 

It's advantageous for Ellie. She can hear when you think kindly of her, she knows when you're mad at her—and she can always right her wrongs, make it up to you when she has unintentionally acted like a douche. She somehow always knows just what to say.

"Hey."

"Fuck!"

She flinches at your curse, found crouched beside the bed and resting her chin against the edge of the mattress. She carries herself so silently. Once uncalculated and clumsy, her movements are now faint, unpredictable. Her presence is so startling, though it's partly your fault for losing track of time. She would have finished work in the last half-hour.

"Tch, sorry." Ellie snorts, reaching out to drag a finger down your wrist, up to the crease of your arm. She lets a delicate sigh fall from her lips, head tilting to the side to study you. "I'm home."

"Yeah, yeah, I can see that." Marking your book, you set it down on the nightstand. Her touch sends a rush through your mellow composure, so cold it's sometimes akin to the prick of a needle. You can see it in her eyes, the amusement she finds in your reaction to all her icy touch. "Hi."

Your hand adjusts a wayward strand of hair clear of her face, a gentle petting she hums for. Her grin is laced in mischief, but it's only the calm before the storm. 

Tonight is for Ellie to execute an elaborate scheme she's been preparing for weeks. 

Initially, when she discovered her ability to see into your mind, she had thought it was cute, if anything deeply flattering, that you thought in such lascivious ways about her. As months went on, it became amusing. 

Mundane moments of your shared life were overshadowed by your thoughts, how they could often be so clouded in lust. She's taken note of it all on plenty of occasions.

With her grip soft on your shoulders, Ellie pushes you against the mattress slowly and crawls onto the bed herself. All your brewing questions burn into Ellie's lips as she kisses you, as if she had known she'd need to hush you.

"C'mon." Her words are whispered against your lips, touch so eager she can't resist interrupting herself to place more and more indiscreet kisses now against your jaw. "Lay down."

"Mmh," you hum, watchful eyes peering down at her as she delves deeper into the crook of your neck. "You want a feed? It's early..."

"Oh, I know," Ellie murmurs, "more than that, babe. Just thought about tryin' something a little different, you know, if you're up for it..."

Her nose teases your neck, nuzzling close to take in your scent. Old bruises bitten into the skin pound with a dull sting when given attention, Ellie's hand joining her to rub over the small marks. She quickly takes notice of your heart beating a tad faster and before you can even say yes, she's laying a kiss on your collarbone and a hand over your breast.

"Mhm, so you're… experimenting?"

"I guess, yeah," Ellie purrs, her tone filled with the remnants of a smile. It's hard to keep said cocksure grin off her face at this point, hand trailing down to cup your mound. She eyes the dark, damp patch that grows beneath her hand, the white fabric mauled by desire. Lounging about in panties and a long-sleeve, so characteristic of you in the long nights in which you seek to be comfortable, yet so tantalising to Ellie. "But we can stop it if you don't like it. You tell me what you think."

There is just one particular fantasy you've had, and it stuck with Ellie the minute she heard your thoughts. She'd been having her routine feed many nights ago when you'd let your thoughts wander elsewhere. An idea of a concupiscent manner arose in the midst of a dreadful, painful situation. 

Feeding has always been an unpleasant process. Teeth breaking skin, your lifeblood sucked out of you and leaving you tired for days. 

What if she could make the pain feel good?

It spurred days of planning. After all, it was coming up to be a year since her turning, how else could Ellie celebrate? Is celebration the right call, even? One year of being dead? The morbid idea doesn't exactly spark joy for most. But it's almost like a new birthday, she can't do nothing at all or she'll run stir crazy. Perhaps this—over-analysing your dirty secrets, putting them to good use against you, would be the drop of much needed rain in the current self-proclaimed desert of her life.

"Think you should settle down," Ellie suggests. Her fingers fiddle with the elastic of your panties, pulling the band taut, only to let go and watch it snap against your skin. "You're in for a long night."

Settle down? You wonder just how long this is going to take—what's so special about this experiment? Knowing Ellie, she doesn't take kindly to the idea of waiting for a feed. It's most certainly interesting to see her transform this into something much bigger of a spectacle than the usual. 

Pert goosebumps rise along your body while knife-like fingers cut into your hips and elicit a shiver down your spine. Ellie's lips trail along your neck as she drags your shirt up your torso, revealing your soft breasts to her.

She rests her head in your caressing palm, her own hands sat over your sides. It's almost nonexistent at first, but then you feel it; wet kisses peppered over the swell of your bust, keen fangs grazing over your skin just enough for you to squirm, yet not enough for it to hurt.

The shaky sigh you give incites Ellie to continue, only this time her act is crueller, and she nips at the soft bud at the centre of your tit. Your hand grips her hair then, nipple growing firm at the attention. And Ellie offers nothing but a chuckle to fill her silence, clearly feeling herself responsible to not lose sight of her plan.

"Ah– Ellie." You gasp, her lips latching onto you. With her tongue rolling your nipple in her mouth, Ellie's eyes lock onto yours with a pleased sparkle in them, her thumbs rubbing your sides ever so gently—the starkest contrast to the way she's currently toying with you.

"What?" Ellie asks in the lowest murmur possible, pulling off for a moment before switching to the other side. A careless shrug of her shoulders accompanies her statement of the same tone. "Barely even doing anything to you yet, babe."

Her hands slide down your waist as she loves on your other tit now, fingers tugging below the waist of your panties. Finally, she has given you something to look forward to, and your hips lift all too eagerly to assist her. Ellie pulls back for a fleeting moment to slip the cotton down your legs and expose your wanton core to her. 

"Aw, look at that…" Ellie coos, hands pulling your thighs apart to take a look. You're glistening beneath the lamp-light, a sight not only so beautiful but so tempting to the vampire. Your heart is beating so fast inside your chest, so much so that for Ellie, your heart is louder than the thunderous weather outside. "What's all this about? Is there something you want, baby?"

"You."

"No, what do you want?" Ellie repeats, laughing quietly. The rubbing of her hands on your thighs is only to keep you present, her cold palms jarring enough to keep you from shying away. "Not who."

She knows exactly what you want. If it weren't for the way your thoughts echo in her head, it'd be blindingly obvious from the way your eyes flit to her hands. But being able to know what you want from her is only half the fun. 

It excludes the best part: seeing you shield your gaze out of humiliation, whispering your responses in order to keep everything hush-hush. 

"Your fingers," you mutter, looking at Ellie with your brows knit to the centre of your face. "Seriously, Els, stop tea–"

"You want my fingers?" She questions you now, taking in the puzzled look on your face. Her fingers press against the folds, tips teasingly dipping into your entrance but not quite, only to see it clench and weep. "You want them here? Or maybe here..?" 

Her thumb flicks against your clit almost as though it's a button, each circle her thumb makes around the bud evoking a tiny moan from your lips.

Teasing is where Ellie has always felt she was skilled. She's playful, always a fan of the occasional practical joke here and there, and without a doubt, it shows the most when she's in the bedroom. The reward for it is like no other; you turn into putty, begging her to give it a rest and take things your way for once. And she's certainly committed to giving you what you want tonight, but that won't mean she's going to be any less mean than she feels like being.

"I want–" God, you just can't get a word out, at least not without interrupting yourself with a broken moan every time you try. You swear on your humanity that you aren't that sensitive, but her fingers are so cold. The contrasting temperature of her hand compared to you is startling.

"Hey." She leans closer to you, dark hair falling into her face. She whispers against your neck, and finds it hard to distract herself from it now, knowing what awaits her patient tongue. But she has to remain controlled. "Tell me. Do you want them in here?"

Two slender fingers prod at your entrance again, and you nod. In fact, with little shame in it, you helplessly plead. And so she obliges hastily, slipping the digits in with ease. 

Her calloused fingertips prod at your inner walls, roughly thrusting in and out. Your hand reaches around her wrist, only to be pushed away within seconds. The once silent room is now filled with obscene squelching sounds and moans from your lips, all that accompanied by Ellie's quieter murmurs into your neck.

It should be mentioned that she is not yet biting you, but so meanly sucking your soft skin into her mouth. It can be hard to do so without those large canines pricking you—they get in the way far too often—but Ellie makes an effort just to keep you on edge.

Ellie knows that you're waiting for it, trying to anticipate the bite, and that's not good enough for her. She wants it to come as a total surprise for you. She wants you distracted, embracing the pleasure, only to daze you when you least expect it.

She is usually the spontaneous type, but she's proven herself meticulous when she wants to be.

Plump lips seek the last place she fed from, a small bruise felt in the shape of her teeth right at your pulse point. The thumping of your heart against the very spot leaves Ellie almost tempted to abandon her plan whole, give in to her hunger, but she refrains. Instead she litters harsh kisses over the spot, tongue laving over it desperately.

A loud yelp befalls you as she sucks the very spot, and she chuckles against your skin. "Oh yeah, you like that, baby?"

It should serve as a warning of what's to come later, but you're too far gone to comprehend it. Lost, lost in the speedily building high. Ellie's demeanour changes none, she continues until you can't take it anymore and finally pulls her slicked fingers from your cunt. It seems so final for a second that once you regain your bearings, you question her.

"I thought you were gonna f–"

"Oh, I'm not done, silly girl." Ellie laughs at you softly, pulling her shirt over her head in one fell swoop. She lets you have this mere moment to recuperate, stripping herself fairly quickly. "I'd quit questioning if I were you, and just relax."

She's leaning over you, meeting your lips as gently as she can. She spreads your legs again, wordlessly manoeuvring herself atop your pussy. Bare skin against bare skin, shiny and soaked cores kissing. 

She grunts a short curse, beginning to roll her hips back and forth against you. She's really not sure why she had never thought of this whole feeding-and-fucking thing before you did, but she's wholeheartedly thanking the stars above that she was able to get this idea from you.

"Mmh, Ellie, n- it's so much," you say between breathless moans, unable to muster anything else. That oversensitivity kicks in hard already, with you pawing at Ellie and trying to catch a break.

"Sh-shh, you can take it," Ellie quickly reassures, and she's trying her hardest to keep her composure, but it all goes out the window once you start writhing, pointlessly rambling because you aren't sure if it's too much or if you want more, and now getting handsy. 

At first, she isn't proud of her reaction—bringing her palm down against your cheek, that is, and slapping you hard. "I said, you can fuckin' take it."

Pathetic. The way your voice breaks and lets out a honeyed whine, it's pathetic, but Ellie's conscience feels guilty no longer. She's almost satisfied—and she'd been able to hold back, insisting upon not getting too far ahead of herself here, but she's lost her patience. Her hunger must be sated.

Ellie cages you between her arms, once again finding home in the crook of your neck. This time, she bares her teeth against your throat, finally sinking them in. She's hit with the most addicting flavour on the planet: your blood. A syrupy, warm, and delectably sweet liquid. 

She groans, beginning her feast far too eagerly. She isn't too focused on drinking it yet, still grinding her slippery cunt into yours and nipping all around your neck. Blood spills out of every little bite and trickles down your body. It stings, of course, but the feeling is far away. Underwater.

"You like that?" Ellie asks, voice gritty and yet a little more subdued now. The way that you look, shirt stained wine red and body a quivering mess, is entirely enthralling. Ellie is more than just a little proud of her work here. 

"It hurts."

"That's not what I asked, is it?" Ellie takes your chin in hand, facing you towards her. Shining teardrops streak your cheeks and pill against her hand. Since when were you crying? "Do you like it?"

"Yes." 

 "Good girl." The words are forced out of her throat at this point, struggling, because she's so close. It's filthy, watching you get so worked up over being turned into her very own living blood bag. "Good girl, I'm gonna– gonna fuckin' cum, baby, you feel so good."

She holds you still as she rubs herself over you, clit rolling over yours one last time before she snaps. Ellie moves faster as she rides out the high, glowing eyes rolling back. 

You're growing lightheaded, watching Ellie so intently. Her lips are stained with blood, her cheeks beginning to turn a more lifelike tone—one matching in colour to the elixir trickling from your neck.

And she seems to wait a moment. You think it's over. You sit against the headboard and spot the simplest grin on Ellie's face as she begins to lick up the mess on your collarbone.

"Better than a normal, boring feeding, yeah?" She murmurs, once again slithering her hand to feel the sodden spot between your legs. You attempt to close your legs around her, but she laughs, forcing them open.

It feels all too familiar now, her fingers rubbing your puffy clit in circles and tongue slurping up the blood on your body. She doesn't care to take it from the source, letting you bleed all over yourself so she can lap it up.

It seems so similar to a time you felt lost in your head, the girl of your fantasy off at work. You had been forced to resort to nothing but your imagination, rutting into your own hand—you couldn't help thinking about what would happen if Ellie were there to assist. 

You couldn't stop yourself from wondering what she would do if she let her instinct take over. Your mind overran itself with images of her penetrating gaze, face covered in a smattering of the blood she's so obsessed with, watching her play with her food. It would feel so fulfilling to be at her service in this way. And yet, it seems that it's coming to fruition.

"Oh!" You gasp, restlessly moving against her. "Ellie, Ellie, why're you–"

Never usually do more than a few red droplets spill and stain. Tonight, the ivory sheets are covered in them like a splash of paint.

"I'm just trying to make you feel good." Ellie hums lowly, licking a stripe from collarbone to the bite that's now beginning to clot. "It's working, yeah?"

Voice riddled with tremors, all you can do is reply half as loud as she. "Yeah, fuck, yeah."

"Good." 

Ellie's teeth repierce the nick in your throat, and this time she stays close, gulping down mouthfuls of your blood. You writhe less and less, head gaining that floaty, fluttery, dream-like sort of lightness the more that she leeches off of you. 

Days will be spent recharging, resting, and earning back your strength, but that's the price you're willing to pay. Ellie is a great caretaker.

"Close," you whisper, clear enough for Ellie to hear and pepper sweet kisses up to your jaw.

"You're a dirty-minded girl," Ellie murmurs, finally explaining herself. None of this was her own innovation. It was all you. "But so clever, aren't you? Now I don't have to worry about it hurting you when I feed. Isn't that smart, babe?"

You want to ask how she knew, but simultaneously, you don't really care—this experience is so overwhelming. You can barely lift your eyelids to look at Ellie, can barely speak or do anything but nod anymore. But you feel safe. You know you're in reliable hands, the strong-willed woman sure enough to control her darker urges.

The only words to escape you now are breathless murmurs of her name, and at last your body seems to calm itself after a final release of built-up pleasure makes its rounds through you. 

You are given moments to steady your breathing. A wet washcloth wipes the dried blood off of you, and she's soon encouraging a glass of water and a few sugary snacks into your hands. 

The healing process will be the same as it always is—but perhaps she might have to give you a little more grace this time round.

[chestersturniolo]

𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤

Chris Sturniolo x fem!reader

Summary; you and chris have a strong, but complex connection. which neither of you manage to navigate. but what happens when you throw some tension and solo cups into the mix?

Warnings ; alcohol consumption ,quick mention of droogs, use of y/n, slight angst , slight fluff, swearing, third person perspective, random character appearance (for the plotttttt) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An overwhelming wave of nerves crash over you,as you sit waiting for your uber to arrive. in a desperate attempt to calm them, you charge to the kitchen, pulling the first bottle of liquor you laid your eyes on from the cabinet. 

you waste no time, unscrewing the cap and taking a large gulp. you feel the warmth travel down your throat and spread through your chest, as you let out a choked cough. 

you hear your phone ding, with an uber notification “Arrived”

stashing the liquor back into the cabinet, you grab your purse and hastily make your way out of your apartment. 

~~~

As you sit in the darkness of the back of the uber, your eyes are fixed out of the window. in a trance, whilst the hundreds of ways tonight could pan out take over your mind. 

you had been invited to a party, that you knew for a fact chris would be at. this would usually make your stomach turn with excitement. instead , it’s turning with anxiety and anticipation.

you had known chris for years. but it’s only over the last few months that you had been exploring a new form of “relationship” with him. the problem was, any time feelings would get brought up, anytime your connection with him felt at its strongest , in the most intimate, heart felt moments, he would shut down in the blink of an eye. brushing it off, stomping out the fire between the two of you. 

and it hurt. 

you knew chris was terrified of intimacy. not sexual intimacy, he had zero problems in that department. but real, powerful, emotional intimacy. but it still hurt. he made you feel like you were nothing to him, just minutes after baring your souls to one another. 

eventually, you had enough. you grew tired of the mixed messages, the way he would look at you like you were the only girl on the planet, and the next minute like he didn’t care about you one single bit. it was confusing, and emotionally draining. you haven’t spoken to chris in two weeks now. which makes the anticipation of seeing his face again, all the more nerve wracking. 

“we’re here ma’am” 

the uber driver speaks, snapping you out of your trance.

“oh im sorry- thanks so much!” you blurt, quickly stepping out of the car. 

you yank your ridden up skirt back down before making your way up the driveway of the house. the thudding of the loud music floats through the air, the chatter of the groups of people gathered on the front lawn echoing into the night. 

you keep your eyes straight infront of you, to eliminate the possibility of spotting chris if you let them wonder. stepping through the front door, you wade your way through the crowds of people, making a b line for the kitchen. 

a sigh of relief escapes your mouth as your eyes land on the kitchen island, which is full of alcohol. bottles of liquor, mixers, beers , and a huge bowl of blue liquid and ice with god knows what in. nerves still coursing through your veins, you grab a red solo cup and pour , maybe a little too much, liquor in. 

~~~

after two cups worth of alcohol, you finally feel the nerves fully subside, quickly replacing with confidence. you push yourself off of the kitchen counter you’d been leaning on, before pouring yourself a third cup. deciding to finally mingle with the crowd, you make your way into the living room.

the strong smell of weed fills your nose as you push your way through the crowd of dancing bodies. the sticky hot air of the room engulfing you. 

“ayyy y/n!” you hear someone call out. 

you whip your head round to the direction of the voice, landing on one of your old friends. one of your old friends you used to sleep with in fact… 

a smile tugs at your lips as you make your way towards him. you left things on good terms, so it was actually really good to see him again. 

“Alex!” you chirp , as he scoops you into a hug

“hey stranger” he teases, pulling away from the embrace.

“how have you been?” you question,

the loud thumping of the music muffles his reply, squinting your eyes, trying to read his lips with no luck. he watches as you tap your ear with a shake of your head, signalling that you can’t hear him. he gives a soft nod of his head and leans in, to talk into your ear. 

you turn your head to listen, and your gaze immediately falls on the person you’ve been dreading to see. chris. sitting on the couch across the room, his eyes fixed on you and alex. 

you feel your heart start to pound, breath involuntarily hitching at the sight of him.

in this very moment, you mentally thank yourself for the generous amount of liquor you poured into your cup. managing to tear your eyes away from chris, you take a heavy swig from your cup. 

“y/n!?” 

the sound of alex’s voice snapping your attention toward him. the appearance of chris made you completely forget alex was even infront of you. realising that you didn’t hear a word of what he just said in your ear, you decide to play it off, as you pull him away from the speaker slightly. but making sure you were both still in chris’ eyeline. 

“sorry! i still couldn’t hear very well-” you bluff. 

“-so..have you missed me” you smirk, batting your eyelashes whilst placing a hand on alex’s chest. your bodies mere inches apart.

the alcohol pumping through your body works in your favour. instead of getting upset at the sight of chris, or going over to him, all you had was the urge to make him jealous. the toxic game felt so appealing to you. chris knew that you and alex had a history, so you knew it would drive him wild.

~~~

you continue your little game, as you very obviously flirt with alex as much as possible, giggling loudly and brushing his bicep with your hand. 

chris is still watching like a hawk from across the room,his burning gaze very apparent to you. his jaw tightly clenched, his fingertips digging into the armrest of the couch as he watches you throw yourself at another man. 

he keeps his stern eyes locked onto you, his anger and jealously escalating.

you decide to push chris as far as you can, as you reach up and pull alex downwards, attaching your lips to his. you allow the kiss to get more heated as you part your mouth, his hands resting on your waist. 

chris’ immediately rises to his feet when he sees this, charging towards the two of you. the anger becoming too much to contain. he grabs you by your wrist with a firm grip, quickly ripping you away from alex’s grasp. you trip over your feet slightly as he drags you through the crowded room. 

“chris what the fuck!” you shout , trying to pull of of his grip, quickly failing. 

he ignores you, as he pulls you into an empty bathroom. slamming the door behind you both, he turns his body to lock the door as you stand behind him in confusion, trying to catch your breathe. 

“wha-what the fuck are you doing?!” you gasp

chris whips his body around towards you, his face full of rage. 

“what am i doing???what the fuck are you doing y/n?!!” chris yells.

“i’m just having fun for god sakes! what’s your problem!?” you yell back, matching his tone.

although your whole goal was to make chris angry and jealous, you were still slightly taken aback by how well it worked. 

“my problem?! you’re throwing yourself all over fucking alex right infront of me?!” he exclaims, the veins in his neck bulging.

“okay so?! why do you care?!” you question, raising your eyebrows. 

chris takes a step closer 

“i care because your fucking mine!!!”

you pause in disbelief at his words. letting out a loud scoff with the shake of your head. you narrow your eyes at him.

“yours? i’m not yours chris-“ you start

“-i could have been yours. but you ruined it. anytime we made any kind of emotional progression you shut me out! i haven’t heard a peep from you in two weeks, and you think you can drag me in here claiming im yours ? are you fucking serious right now?!” you screech.

a silence fills the room as you wait for chris’ response. you watch his gaze fall to the floor as he lets out a long sigh. 

you stand there waiting for some kind of communication, but nothing. 

you roll your eyes as you push past him, unlocking the door and reaching for the handle.

chris hand slams on the door, holding it firmly shut. 

“move chris” you warn, without looking at him.

“no, y/n just wait okay…please?” he begs, his voice now at a low, respectful volume. 

you turn your body towards chris, his expression now soft and pleading, heavily juxtaposing the furious face he previously wore. you can’t help but feel yourself begin to soften under stare. but you quickly replace the pretty face with the facts.

“no. no more waiting. i gave you a chance chris and you messed it up. i deserve more! i’m done with this conversation and im done with you!” 

your heart aches as the words leave your mouth. you didn’t want to be done. not one bit. but you knew that’s how it had to be. chris couldn’t give you what you wanted. him. all of him. 

you watch as chris’ face falls. he removes his hand from the door, rubbing it over his face. 

“don’t say that…please just stay and we can talk this out okay?” chris says, his voice laced with desperation. 

“why should i?!” you question.

the room once again falls silent. the final lifeline to save your “relationship” slipping away. feeling defeated , you once again turn to the door

“goodbye chr-“ 

“fuck-because i’m in love with you!!!!”

you freeze at chris’ confession. completely and utterly caught off guard. you slowly turn around to meet his eyes.

“w-what?” 

chris takes a deep breathe

“i said…because im in love with you-“ he starts , his voice full of meaning.

“-completely, and utterly in love with you” 

you stand infront of him, a statue of disbelief, with your mouth agape as you listen.

“and it scares the fuck out of me y/n. i’ve never felt like this about anyone before. that’s why i acted the way i did. i felt myself falling and i was trying to stop myself, i was stupid i know -”

chris inches closer to you as he talks,he reaches out to delicately cup your face with his hands.

 “-i didnt reach out these past two weeks because i knew the affect you have on me, i knew i wouldn’t be able to stop myself falling for much longer. little did i know i already fell…seeing you here tonight with alex just made everything crystal clear to me. you drive me fucking crazy!  i need you y/n, i want yo-“ 

you cut chris’ rant off by crashing your lips into his. his hands fall from your cheeks and find a home on your waist, pulling you closer. the kiss was full of passion, it felt different to the hundreds of kisses the two of you had shared before. chris finally admitting his feelings reignited the fire between the two of you. 

you pull yourself away from his lips, keeping your face just inches away from his, the tips of your noses brushing together as both of you catch your breathe. 

“you really mean that?” you whisper

you watch a small smile form on chris’ face as he nods softly 

“every word”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n; first time writing in third personnn and i didn’t hate it as much as i thought i would🤌🏼

thankyou for readiinnngg hope you enjoyed🤍

taglist ; @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh @phone4pills @demzzz @dripgodnay

(let me know if you’d like to be on my tag list and i’ll add you ✨)

PS- requests open

[lizzy019]

Can u do smth where dally's gf gets jumped super bad? THANK YOUUUIUU.(it's perfectly fine if not☺)

AAAAHH THIS ASK IS DELICIOUS!

~~~~~~~~ 🖤-> ~~~~~~~~~~~🌿~~~~~~~~~~~ 💚! ~~~~~~~~~

Pathetic, you mustered up in your head despite the pained alarms buzzing.

You hadn't expected to be jumped, you were just trying to get home. Clearly that was an issue to the guys who had chosen to pick on you and punch you until your knees scraped painfully against the cement of the sidewalk.

What had you done? You weren't wearing skimpy clothes, you hadn't done anything to provoke them, so what was the deal?

You hurried off to Buck's place, trying hard to run and not just give up. You were so dazed that you honestly couldn't even feel the pain in your face and stomach anymore, you were just set on running to escape.

The cold breeze made the open wounds burn in an uncomfortable manner, causing your already shaky body to shiver as you hurried like you were hiding from the drizzling rain.

Soon enough you had found yourself at the boisterous building of Buck's, and you made zero hesitation to run up to the door and knock vigorously. God, even your knuckles hurt from trying to defend yourself.

The door had swung open, making the music just a bit too loud for you but regardless you tolerated it.

"Dally?" Buck assumed, letting you in without much more than a glance.

You nodded, stepping in and finally letting yourself mellow down. Oh, you must've looked so pathetic. Drenched in rain and blood, even sweat from running so much. Only now the adrenaline started to dissipate, but it lingered as you climbed the stairs.

His apartment door was unlocked, you could tell by the way it didn't look fully closed. So in a flurry, you swung open the door and hustled inside. Maybe Dallas wasn't here and just forgot to lock his door? It was a possibility knowing Dally.

But when the door had opened, Dally poked his head out from around his belongings cautiously before seeing what looked to be you in pain and cold. Everything was a blur past that.

Quite instantly, you were sat on his ratty bed, wounds being cleaned and kisses being peppered all over your tear stained face. Makeup smeared, face discoloured and expression terrified. You could only tremble as he dabbed away the blood from your cheek.

"Dal- Dally, they were gonna beat me up... Dal, I was so scared." You sniffled, grasping his knee purely out of emotional distress.

Dally only nodded curtly, focused on the subject at hand and making sure to bandage you up nice and proper. He even managed to get his hands on some ice packs to reduce the swelling of some of the blows, but you still found it to be painful.

Even the towel he purposely put on his heater for a minute or two to warm up before he covered your shoulders and dabbed off the wetness clinging to your hair. Maybe this wasn't so horrific.

Regardless of the situation, everything seemed to become more tranquil as he bundled you up in his arms and finished drying off exposed parts of you like your knees, shins, calves and feet. All of which were done so gently that you were convinced this wasn't the Dallas you were used to. What a gentleman!

"'S alright now, you're safe. Brave, huh? Tuff to be runnin' through the dark an' in the rain just to escape some nasty fuckers." He praised you, the corners of his mouth curling just a bit to make it seem like he was smiling.

You felt warm inside from his fulfilling words, a bubble of hope forming and pushing away all the other thoughts bombarding you.

Yeah... maybe this wasn't so bad.

[mynameismckenziemae]

Mix It With Rum

Tyler Owens x Female Reader

Warnings: MDNI! Adults (18+) only! Smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, exhibitionism (kind of), a single slap on the ass, dirty talk, creampie kink, etc.

Request from @lexixstewart

Song is Rum by Brothers Osborne

﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏𓇼 ﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏

“Oops,” you giggle as you set the drinks down a little too hard, creamy liquid sloshing over the side.

No one can see you in the little outdoor shower attached to your room so there’s no qualms about licking clean what spilled over your hand.

“Yum,” a sigh escapes you as the cool, sweet flavors of pineapple and coconut hit your tongue. It tastes better than the first one you had earlier, putting you on the right side of tipsy.

After starting the shower, you turn on Spotify and strip off your bikini top, tossing it over the top of the wood surround, and smiling because you know Tyler can see it from the pool where you left him when he’d gotten distracted by a bachelor party talking football.

The most fitting song begins to play as your bottoms join the top and you slide under the lukewarm water, humming along as you rinse the sunscreen and sand from your slightly pink skin.

We came out here to do a whole lotta nothin'

And we're doin' pretty good I think

It was the first full day of your weeklong honeymoon and between wedding planning and storm chasing, the two of you hadn’t had a chance to relax in months. The hot sun, even hotter sex, and beautiful beach are just what you need.

Your hips start to sway as you hum along, pausing only to take another swallow of the addicting drink.

The only one thing we need to worry about

Is fillin' up when the ice cubes clink

After the shampoo is rinsed, you lather your body while the conditioner’s in your hair, your skin so soft and smooth from the sand.

Dippin' our toes in the water

I don't care if it gets any hotter

There’s a loud, wet slap and you whip around to a grinning Tyler, his cheeks flushed from rum and sun.

“Tyler James,” you chide, rubbing the burning handprint he left on your buttcheek, “the pool is right there! Anyone could’ve heard that.”

It's you and me rememberin' how to have fun

Let's put our hearts together

He sings you the words as he drops his swim trunks, his cock thick and hard between his muscular thighs as he takes a long drink from the glass next to yours before stepping through the water, back you straight against the cool, damp wood.

“You’re gonna much more than that later tonight for sneaking away on me, Mrs. Owens,” he smiles as his hands find your ass, taking a handful in each before squeezing tightly; a promise for later. “The only other group out there left when I did,” he continues, leaning close to brush his lips over yours before giving you a teasing kiss, “I made sure it was empty so I could do this.”

“Do wha-oh,” you cut off with a sigh when he drops to his knees, lifting your thigh over his sun-kissed shoulder before he surges forward.

Two parts love and a pinch of good weather

And top it all off with the sun…continues in the background as he unhurriedly and messily uses his tongue, lips, chin, and nose to devour you.

When you nearly knock both half-full glasses off the shelf to steady yourself, an idea comes to mind.

The chilled drink is cool against your heated skin as you slowly pour it over your breasts. Tyler’s eyes have fallen closed so he doesn’t even notice until it hits his tongue.

“Taste so good,” he moans, eyes full of lust as he takes in the view, “nothing could get better than this; my wife’s sweet pussy,” he licks a thick stripe through your arousal, “mixed with my cum from earlier,” his dirty words make you whimper as he wetly laps up the sweet concoction sliding down your stomach, “and piña colada. Fuck.”

He slides one hand up through the mess and the other goes between your thighs as he zeroes in on your clit with his tongue. He taps two fingers on your lips, pushing them inside to suck on when you open your mouth while two slip into your pussy to curl against your g-spot.

And mix it with rum, mm, mm, mm, mm.

Already toeing the edge of your release, the vibrations as he hums along is all it takes for you to fall over; your sounds of pleasure are muted by his fingers.

Tyler doesn’t give you a chance to recover before he rises; your legs wrap around his waist by muscle memory alone when he lifts you.

The low, drawn-out groan when he sinks inside your still-clenching body makes you shiver before he sets a quick, unforgiving pace with his thrusts, revealing how just worked up he is.

“Never gonna let you outta my sight again-fuck!” He grunts against your neck when you tighten around him, “Gonna stay in the room the rest of the trip so I can fill you up any time I want,” he angles his hips to catch your clit with each stroke, “anywhere I want, and any hole I want.”

“Yes,” you breathe, tugging him up by his hair to give him a biting kiss, “Please Ty. I need it-need your cum.”

He groans into your lips as his hips slow into a grind, cock twitching as he releases deep inside you; his triggers yours with a soft cry that he doesn’t bother to muffle.

“Love you,” he pants, pressing his forehead to yours as you catch your breath.

“I love you too. And I want you to have me in any and every way you want,” you smile softly, give him a sweet kiss, “but I’m not staying in the room for the rest of the trip.”

“Alright,” he agrees with a laugh, “so a blow job at the beach and anal in the cabana?”

﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏𓇼 ﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏

A/N: If you’re wondering where this came from…I would like nothing more than to be a little tipsy, a little sunburnt and a lotta fucked at a beach right now. 😏

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love knowing what you think in the comments/reblogs.

Tagging who I think may be interested (ignore if you don’t want to read this, I just don’t have a ‘Tyler Owens’ taglist yet):

@lexixstewart (thank you for the idea/prompt 😘 I hope you like it!)

@shanimallina87

@dizzybee03

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@bellaireland1981

@blindedbythelightt

@hookslove1592

@seitmai

[amorfista]

"Beach lookout's nap"

The Dad Batch (and Omega) deserve a day of blissful relaxation, I don't think there's anyone out there who wouldn't agree!

While Tech is taking the best nap of his life [Part 1], Omega and Wrecker joined efforts to make the coolest sand-Tipoca city [Part 2] there is out there!

Echo and Hunter might have gotten concerned about the ruckus [Part 3] that these two started to cause...

Crosshair, on the other hand...?

He couldn't give a flying kark.

...or least that's what it would seem like.

Even through a slit of sight, nothing escapes the skillful sniper's eyes. Watching his brothers (and sister) from the distance, he peacefully swings on his hammock, a couple of meters above the ground and (hopefully) far away enough from the mischief that is, apparently, stirring among his siblings.

This state of bliss comes to a halt however, when the crackle of a comm breaks through the sounds of nature.

“Omega to Crosshair, come in Crosshair!”

.

.

.

"For the love of the Maker", he thinks to himself.

Admitting his defeat, Crosshair opened his eyes fully and stared at the palm leaves above, casually spotting a palm weevil crawling over them within a split second.

He took a deep breath as he pressed the button of his own commlink, making sure to drag his words to let Omega know of his displeasure as he spoke:

"What do you want?"

TO BE CONTINUED!!!

Alright, alright, alright.

I know I said that I'd post a version with 1-2 tats and then the full body, but I just could NOT choose which tat to leave on😭 so now you get the zero tats as the "HC" version, and...

DON'T BE SHY, ZOOM THE HECK IN!

(also i know that he shouldn't have an ice vulture in this hc where he never left the batch so he never met Mayday, whoops)(SORRY FOR THE HUGE POST TOO)

This was so. Much. Fun. Not all the tats have a HUGE, INTRINCATE meaning but, honestly? I'm just SO HAPPY with the result.

Some of the tats are very pretty so, I thought I'd clean them up and show you guys! Might even make stickers in the future!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

@arcsimper5 THANK YOU SOOO MUCH for the hammock idea, plus the wonderful story that you've written around my drawings!! You're a sweetheart!!♥♥♥

@grinningnexu THANK YOU! for the thousand amazing tattoo ideas!

@nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius THANK YOU TOO! for the ice vulture idea; I'll make a sketch for his back tomorrow!! ♥

@wwheeljack @freesia-writes the no-tat version is the og now XD

I'm very, very happy about the drawing. The colors and background were super fun to make. The perspective might be wonky but I don't mind, I'll get better at it eventually xD

I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT AND AS PER USUAL, THANK YOU SOOO MUCH FOR THE FEEDBACK AND LOVE!!! 💗💗💗

Taglist: (PM or @ to join!)

@dukeoftheblackstar @justalittletomato @darthmaulshispanichousewife @botherbother-blog @aftergloom @badolmen @ihaventpickedausername @ohboi @stardustbee @nik-barinova @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @gen-has-green-vibes @ejfivercommander @herbalinz-of-yesteryear @eyecandyeoz @noesqape @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @staycalmandhugaclone @callmesunny04 @ginnymilling @sunshinesdaydream @blueink-bluesoul @cloneloverrrrr @moon-wrecked @idontgetanysleep @tech-aficionado @followthepurrgil @renton6echo @queen-jiru @shoe-bag @eyayah123 @eloquentmoon @and-loth-cat @ladyzirkonia @stardusthuntress @bambambunny

[demonlordcosnime]

lets play zero escape virtue last reward part 46

[novaursa]

I've been LOVING your cregan work and wanted to see if you were doing requests. I was thinking something like the reader (velaryon) was previously married to aemond had a kid with him and something happened to the kid, reader escapes aemond and is with cregan but is still morning the life she previously had and feels bad about it. Maybe she's just given up on everything and cregan just wants to help. I'm so sorry if this makes zero sense 😭

Winter's Solace

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Specters of the past came back today once more to hunt you, but Cregan holds them back.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: The reader is bonded with a dragon Grey Ghost.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

The cold wind howls through the ancient halls of Winterfell, but inside your chambers, the fire crackles softly. The warmth from the hearth does little to pierce the chill that’s wrapped around your heart. The North was supposed to be your sanctuary, the place where you could forget. But the past clings to you like a cloak you cannot shed.

For days now, you’ve sought solitude, slipping from the bed you share with Cregan before the dawn, curling yourself into the furs by the window, watching the sky but not really seeing it. You barely eat. Every mouthful seems to turn to ash on your tongue. The memories—the life you had before, the life taken from you—haunt your every waking moment.

The son you lost, taken by blood and treachery.

Your breath trembles as you draw it in, eyes falling to the grey stones below. You told yourself you would never cry again after that night, but the tears threaten to spill all the same.

A quiet knock at the door stirs you, though you do not answer. You know who it is, and part of you wants to tell him to leave. To let you sit here in silence, to let the grief eat at you until there is nothing left. But he’s stubborn, like the North itself. He enters without waiting for your permission, the familiar sound of his heavy boots crossing the threshold.

"Cregan…" Your voice is barely a whisper, hoarse from lack of use. But you don’t turn to face him.

He doesn’t say anything at first. He knows better than to rush you. Instead, he stands in the doorway for a moment, his presence filling the room with a quiet strength. Then, slowly, he crosses to where you sit, his broad figure casting a shadow over you.

"You haven’t eaten," he says gently, kneeling beside you, his eyes dark with concern. His hand finds yours, rough and warm against your cold skin. He squeezes it, hoping to ground you, to pull you back from the abyss you’re teetering over.

You pull your hand away, though it’s not from any anger toward him. It’s because you’re ashamed. Ashamed of the broken thing you’ve become, ashamed that even now, after all this time, the past still holds you so tightly in its grip. You think of Aemond, of the life you once shared with him—however brief and painful—and the child you lost. You think of the vengeance that Daemon and Rhaenyra sought in your name, a vengeance that tore at what little remained of your soul.

"I can’t…" Your voice breaks, and for a moment, you press your lips together to stop the flood of words that want to spill out. "I can’t pretend anymore, Cregan."

Cregan’s eyes, soft yet strong, search your face. He understands. He’s always understood, more than anyone else ever could. When you fled to the North on the back of Grey Ghost, seeking an end to the torment, it was Cregan who saved you. He didn’t ask for explanations, didn’t demand that you be strong. He simply gave you space, gave you time. But now, the time has come to face the wounds that refuse to heal.

He moves closer, sitting beside you, pulling you gently into his arms. At first, you resist, stiff in his embrace, but the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, begins to melt the ice that’s hardened around your soul.

"I don’t need you to pretend, Y/N," he says, his voice a low rumble in your ear. "Not with me."

You close your eyes, leaning into him, allowing yourself the comfort he offers. His hand strokes your hair, gentle and slow, as though he’s trying to calm a wild animal.

"I left them to die," you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "Aemond… our son. I should have stayed, should have fought harder—"

"You were never meant to stay with him," Cregan interrupts, his tone firmer now, as though he’s reminding you of something you’ve long forgotten. "The life you had with him was built on lies and violence. It wasn’t your fault, Y/N. None of it."

"But it was my mother…" Your voice breaks again, the bitterness of it burning your throat. "It was Rhaenyra. She sent them—Daemon sent them—to kill him. To take my son."

Cregan holds you tighter, his breath warm against your hair. "You’ve carried that guilt too long, my love. What your mother did… that’s on her. Not on you. You didn’t ask for their blood to be spilled."

The tears come then, hot and heavy, spilling down your cheeks as you sob into Cregan’s chest. You hate yourself for it—hate how weak you feel. But he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t pull away or flinch from your pain.

"I loved him once," you confess, voice barely audible. "Aemond… I loved him before all the bitterness and rage. Before the war tore us apart."

"I know," Cregan says softly. "And you loved your son. That’s why you grieve. But you can’t let it destroy you. You can’t let the ghosts of the past steal the life you have now."

You’re silent for a moment, listening to the crackling of the fire and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His words are true, but they don’t erase the pain. Nothing ever will.

"I don’t know how to move forward," you admit.

"One step at a time," Cregan says, pulling back slightly so he can look into your eyes. His gaze is steady, filled with a determination that gives you something to hold onto. "I can’t take the pain away, Y/N. But I’ll be here, every step, until you find your way."

You look into his face, seeing the man who saved you when you thought there was nothing left to save. The man who offers you not just comfort, but a future, if only you can let yourself reach for it.

"I don’t deserve you," you whisper, guilt still gnawing at the edges of your heart.

"Deserve me?" He smiles, a soft, crooked smile that warms you in a way the fire never could. "I think it’s the other way around. You’re a Targaryen, a Velaryon, bonded with a dragon. And yet, here you are in the North, sharing your life with me. If anyone is undeserving, it’s me."

You shake your head, tears still glistening in your eyes. "No… you saved me."

"And I’ll keep saving you," Cregan says, his thumb brushing away the tear on your cheek. "For as long as you need me to."

For the first time in days, something like hope flickers in your chest. It’s faint, fragile, but it’s there. You lean into him again, closing your eyes, letting his warmth and strength anchor you. The grief will always be there, lurking in the shadows. But with Cregan by your side, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you can face it.

Tomorrow, you’ll eat. Tomorrow, you’ll take another step forward. But for now, in this moment, you allow yourself to simply be held. And for the first time in a long time, that feels like enough.

[dolloie]

datey dates! ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

about. what type of date riize would bring you to! warnings. foods, fish?? (idk if it's counted) cursing.. pairing. bf!riize x fem!reader author's notes. this has been on my mind too many times, so i had to type it out..

𖦹 shotaro..~

an arcade date with shotaro! i think this suits him very much. i knew that he was totally going to bring you to the dance stage to show off his dancing skills. he would probably catch the attention of people around him, but he didn't care; as long as your eyes are on him, he'll continue <3 the others were astounded by him! like, who doesn't?? crazy.. and you'll be his proudest gf ever. then he would drag you to the hockey ice or basketball (totally not by force) and teach you how to play it (if you dk) after that, he'll wrap up the day by taking some pictures at the photobooth, will prettily decorate it together with you!

𖦹 eunseok..~

picnic dates are so him. he will prepare all the foods and set up the place! he felt like falling in love with you all over again after seeing you dressed up, and he'll think he's the luckiest man ever by having you as his gf. he will even learn how to cook your favorite dishes :( (you see him in the riize's contents on yt?? he can cook cook) not a particularly good chef, but he is determined on everything about this date!! making sure it'll be the perfect date you've ever had in your life. feeding you while having love in his eyes is true true. half of him is anxious, wondering if you like it or not. when you say it's good, he'll be letting out a relief sigh LOUDLY, as if the world will end if you don't like it.

𖦹 sungchan..~

and for this.. i think sungchan would perfectly fit with the grocery dates. like, if you see this man, he'll have the most boyfriend material pictures ever?? (pls give me one sungchan in my life, i'm going crazyyt) goofiest man who will tease you by putting up your things on the air. oh! oh! escape room dates >:) my man looks all confident, thinking he will get out of the room easily. but oh boy.. he's wrong, probably gonna cry out at the staff, begging them to let him out. he can't stand the thought of separating from you, which drove him crazy (when it had just been 10 minutes)  treats you an ice cream as an apology for ruining the date </3 and he would totally repeat the same things all over.

𖦹 wonbin..~

aquarium dates!! wohoo we all have been waiting for this >_< hear me.. so, wonbin + aquarium dates = literally perfection. he watches you from by his side, you were looking at the fish swimming around you. he just nodded along with you when you told him facts about fish when he had zero knowledge about any creatures living in the water. the smile on his face stayed from the moment you both stepped inside the aquarium until the end of the day. he will buy you a matching keychain (totally not an idea from wifty) and have it hanging on his bag. take lots of pictures with you!! his wallpaper? changed to the pic of you pointing at the stingray. holding your hands all the time and will not, ever, let go. even when you said you needed to use the bathroom.

𖦹 seunghan..~

romantic dinner at home!! he is the most gentle person i've ever seen (bring my boy back! he did nothing wrong) he has the house all set up. the candle, the flower path for you to make your way straight to the table after the long day you had. he'll be embracing you with warm hugs. then he'll kiss your forehead and lead you slowly to the table. you don't care if he bought the food from delivery! he has already prepared everything for you using all his efforts and ideas. he will pull your chair like a gentlemen himself. then he takes a seat in front of you (tripped over his own chair, because he fell for you lol) at the end of the day, he will massage you and prepare your bath.. he is so sweet!! drying your hair after the shower and will carry you in his arm to the bed.

𖦹 sohee..~

a movie date with sohee is the highlight!! you don't get him like i do.. study your favorite genre of movie, actors that you like, and types of cartoons that you watched. he had all your favorite snacks prepared.. like oh my god how much do you love him for this.. he will also prepare the fluffiest and most comfortable blanket you have ever felt in your life. cuddling session is all he can think of all the time.. boy just wants to cuddle you and 100% will not focus on the movie playing, when he has his arms all wrapped around you (even if it's his favorite movie) play with your hands, tracing some sweet words like "i love y/n" on your hands. he'll be the one who slept first, and i can imagine him snoring mimimi kind of thing.

𖦹 anton..~

my love!!!!!!! he is the most loml out of all the lomls.. my man will bring you to the nearest cafe in the city. study dates with you ^^ he already ordered your fav drinks and desserts for you, and trust me, this man will not focus at all, like how can he? your beauty distracts him. those serious faces of you making him melt at his place. he wants to kiss those pouty lips of yours so bad. how can you look all cute like that when you're just doing your assignment??! then later, he will start to do his work (just after you scolded him for wasting times) but you know what? he doesn't give a fuck. staring, looking, and watching you are the only things he can do. he is so so whipped. he is that down bad for you.

© CALLANTON 2024. all right reserved. please don't copy or steal any of my work/post! ʚɞ