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[pparadiselost]

the gentleman and the lure.

akira kurusu x fem reader you thought your relationship with akira ended five years ago, but a chance encounter with him has you rethinking it all. warning(s): nsfw, timeskip au (akira is 23), reader implied to also be 23 minors do not interact.

in all honesty, you initially thought this whole thing was your eyes playing tricks on you.

but some deeper, unconscious part of you knew otherwise. nothing else, nobody else in this world could make you do a double take in the same you just did, your feet hesitating like an out-of-beat step in the larger waltz from the passersby around you. shibuya is wild like that, demanding your adherence to the dance while setting your imagination free.

you blink. it can’t be him. 

that chapter of your life had closed five years ago, and you were now preoccupied with finding your place in the world. it had taken a lot of time, a lot of anger and bargaining, a lot of unspoken grief and nights sobbing into your pillow wondering if there was anything you could have done to change the outcome, but ultimately, time proved to be the most effective medicine. you closed that part of your youth with a bittersweet tinge in your memories, and you tucked it somewhere close to your heart to savor on nights whenever drinking alone wasn’t enough to plunge you fully into the depths of your personal melancholy.

but it is him. 

wavy tufts of midnight black hair, smooth skin like a greek statue come to life, and sleek black glasses frames that only momentarily hide the big innocent doe eyes that make you stop dead in your tracks.

your throat clamps down on itself. the cacophony of the city suddenly mutes itself in your ears, and you can’t hear any of it. none of the footsteps, the voices, the honking of cars and the blasting advertisements, the chirping of pigeons, everything becomes completely obsolete as you struggle to even breathe. you want to say something, to even get a pathetic squeak out, but it’s as if every part of your mind shut down instantly, and you realize you were rendered frozen.

the man standing a few feet away from you also does a double take, and a few annoyed pedestrians storm between the two of you. but he doesn’t move and neither do you.

“is… is that you? is that who i think it is?” he steps closer, and you can make out his soft voice. his lips are a gentle shade of cherry red, and you’re suddenly aware of how much taller he is than from when you last remember. 

your eyes tremble when you finally let yourself take a good look at him, and despite the initial features that caught you like a deer in headlights, you also notice that he’s changed more than you thought. he’s definitely older. his features are sharper. his chest is a bit bigger and shoulders a bit broader, jawline more defined and the once-cherubic roundness in his eyes have honed themselves into something more adult-like.

your heart skips a beat.

“it is you.” there’s nowhere else for you to run now, now that he has you within arm’s reach. you’re still dumbstruck, the million thoughts in your mind unable to string themselves into tangible words, and you’re scared that this chance will slip out of your hands and become something you regret for the rest of your life. but at the same time, there’s too much emotion overwhelming you, almost like the entire passage of time spiel was rapidly unraveling in your head.

your tongue is a deadweight on the inside of your mouth, and yet when he reaches out to grab you, his hand wrapping around your arm and tugging you in his direction, leading you out of the middle of the crosswalk and towards the safety of the sidewalk, all you can conjure up is a surprised gasp. you sound like a wounded animal, but you let the dark-haired man whisk you away, your legs and feet stumbling behind you as if he was a puppeteer and you, the puppet.

it’s only when he takes you to a more secluded area, the mouth of an alley a little tucked away, do you manage to eke out your first words to him.

your voice shakes. you sound like you’re about to cry. you feel like you’re about to cry. “k… kurusu.”

he laughs under his breath, and hearing it makes you want to throw up on your own feet. you’ve craved that sound for so long. it haunts your dreams, your waking moments, the breakdowns you might have had when you stayed up past your bedtimes and let your mental demons claw too long at you. 

“that’s me.”

he pauses for a second, and he glances at you almost sheepishly. he is older, but he’s definitely still very young. probably around 23, most likely fresh out of college, maybe looking for his first job out in the real world, going through the same growing pains as you are right now. he still retains that boyish charm you ascribed to him in your brain, and you see it clearly through his big angelic eyes.

“it’s been a while, hasn’t it? i’m sorry. i should apologize for that,” he starts calmly, “i didn’t mean to lose contact with so many people after i moved back home all that time back… especially with you.”

what were you supposed to say? the path of least resistance would be to lie and say that it was alright that you let him go, that you spent your time alone practically torturing yourself over a love that could no longer be. but it wasn’t like you could suddenly dump all of that, especially within the first few minutes of meeting him again, and it wasn’t like your body was being particularly cooperative either.

you hold your breath. he waits a beat, and then he rummages through his pocket and extends his phone towards you.

“here. i wish i had more time to catch up with you. i’m getting back from my lunch break right now, so i can’t stick around. but put in your information, and if you’re willing, i really want to take some time and talk to you again.” his black eyes are on you again, and you can see your startled reflection staring back from his irises. “would you be okay with that?”

you’re a person haunted. possessed. you wordlessly take his phone from his hands, and you methodically type your information in. you give it back to him without much more fanfare, and only then does he allow himself a smile.

his fingers brush across yours, and the spark that shoots straight to your stomach leaves you reeling. your heart sinks like a rock when you see his happy face. his smile is beautiful and poised, and it’s nothing short of a lethal poison to your consciousness.

“thanks. i have to run now, but i’ll contact you as soon as i can. it… it’s a miracle to see you again. i didn’t think a day like this would come.” he admits. he shifts his weight slightly, and he rechecks his watch before nodding apologetically at you. “i know it’s long overdue to say something like this, but… take care of yourself. i’ll see you soon.”

maybe in another life, you would have reached out and grabbed him by the back of his cardigan to yank him back towards you. maybe in another life, you would have followed him out to the train station that had stolen him out of your life and whisked him home, condemning you to a solitude you couldn’t wish upon anyone. maybe in another life, you were a different person that he might have considered worthwhile to keep a connection going, instead of forcing you to spiral and wonder if this was a love worth fighting for. 

but it all comes crumbling when you see him dash away. you see the lush glimmer of his black hair as it bounces with his steps, long legs striding across the white paint of the crosswalks. if you were doomed to be the tragic side character stuck behind the whims of a cruel writer’s desires and fate, longing for the warmth of recognition, then this man is undoubtedly the protagonist, always just slightly out of the reach of your outstretched fingers.

the rest of shibuya closes in on him like a curtain call, the people of the city drowning out your vision of him like waves crashing down, and you’re left alone as the overwhelming and biting loneliness wraps its arm around you and chokes you from the inside out. 

…

…

…

how could you describe akira kurusu? there was no easy label to slap onto everything that went down five years ago, back when you were both young and in high school and didn’t know any better. all the lovebirds on your social media apps threw around these buzzwords like situationship, delusionalship, this and that, but you hate the thought of defining what you and akira had with something so soulless. so simple.

but at the same time, you couldn't deny the truth that whatever you and akira had wasn’t clearly defined either. there were no labels despite the complexity of the relationship, and it was every bit ambiguous as the same situations everyone else bemoaned about their lackluster love lives.

it was this ambiguity that proved to be the stalker at the foot of your bed each and every night.

you two were schoolmates. you tutored him a few times. went on dates with him a few times. slept with him a few times. you two had a relationship in every sense but the label, and you had learned to foster intense and real feelings for him. you’d listen to his heartbeat while curled up in his little bed in leblanc’s attic, and you’d wake up to him rubbing the sleep out of his eyes while you’d pretend to sleep so you could cuddle him a bit longer.

but just as quickly as it seemed to begin, his probation was done, and he left tokyo before you could find any way to cling to him even across all the distance. you had hoped that he’d reach out to you in some way and let you know that you weren’t entirely delusional in believing that you had something special with him, but the long stretches of silence made you realize harshly that there was nothing for you to cling to anymore.

you’d even turn up to leblanc by yourself a few times, and sojiro would shoot you a few glances. but you never mentioned akira to him, and the old man never mentioned akira to you either. it was a silent understanding between the two of you as sojiro fixed you a cup of coffee the way you liked it, that neither of you had been successful in hearing from akira.

“so,” his calm voice shakes you from your thoughts. you’re no longer in high school and crying on your bedroom floor over your boyfriend-not-boyfriend who moved back home. you don’t feel much more adult than your teenager self, but you’re sitting at a table across from akira, who’s busy scrutinizing the menu in his hands.

you reach for the glass of water to your right and take an impatient sip. your mouth feels dry, and it’s a good tactic for you to fully avoid conversation for a little while. just a few days prior, akira had reached out to you through the newly acquired number he got from you, and he had asked you to get dinner with him like he said he would. 

you should have known that this would open up old wounds, but the “what if” that nagged in your head had you accepting his offer before you could fully think it through. 

could you even call it an offer though? without any real string attached? this was exactly the same way he would unofficially ask you out when the two of you were young. you two would romp all over shibuya, eating yummy snacks and doing all sorts of dumb things, too drunk in each other’s presence to really take in the world around them.

“does anything catch your eye? i heard that this place was pretty good through the grapevine,” he admits. he glances up from his menu and smiles shyly, and you almost choke mid-swallow on your mouthful of water. it’s just so unfair how deceptively pretty he is, despite the fact that the word handsome would be more suitable for a young man he is, but you know better than to think that you could ever resist his sparkling eyes.

you set your glass down. “i’ve never been here before, so… you know this place better than i do. i suppose we can ask the waiting staff here for recommendations.”

he closes the menu. “that sounds like a good idea. do you want something other than water to drink? there’s no need to be polite—this dinner is my treat. oh, don’t make that face. i was the one who invited you out, so it’s only fair that i treat you.”

were you making a face? you bit back the urge to touch your face and hide your expression behind your hands. this really felt too much like a date, and despite the walls you wanted to put back up to fend akira off, his subtle ways of peppering you with the attention you craved so badly deep down through what felt like small talk was a bit too smooth for your liking. did he do this often with other romantic prospects while he was gone? what other people did he take an interest in since the last time you had seen him? god, did he butter others up as he was with you?

you push those negative thoughts out of your head. his five years of silence spoke enough for itself, and you scold yourself internally. you should know better than to swoon over your long lost first love again, and for you, the purpose of this dinner was for you to find closure. you didn’t want to open a door to your heart for him too quickly again, lest he end up slamming it back in your face once more.

the silence between the two of you became uncomfortable. you gather your courage, soothing over the uneasy heartbeat rattling at your ribcage, and you look at him pointedly. “...i wanted to ask this last time, but i didn’t get a chance to. how have you been, kurusu?”

he stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head when his last name leaves your mouth. he leans forward and places his elbows on the table, and he folds his hands, palms down, so he can place his chin on his intertwined fingers. “kurusu? you called me that when i ran into you.”

“what else would i call you?” you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of calling him akira just yet. calling him by his first name was something personal, something intimate. it was a title reserved for people close to each other, and while you might not have hesitated had the two of you retained your relationship from before, right now, he was nothing more than a stranger to you. 

he’s horrendously perceptive, and akira shrugs. “you know what to call me.”

your stomach does a flip, and you don’t want to give him more of an opening to flirt with you. it feels as if he’s stabbing you emotionally and twisting the knife into your heart, making sure you can feel the yearning and the pain in every tendon, muscle, and sinew of your being. “why are you in shibuya again?”

he pushes back against his seat slightly, his long fingers wrapping themselves against the edge of the table. “job hunting. i graduated university fairly recently, and i need to keep myself afloat. i figured a big city would have some good opportunities. and besides…”

he trails off slightly, and as much as you hate it, you’re pretty sure you can predict his next words. this place is like a second home to him. he has history here, connections, something that could serve as the foot-in-the-door for his future. he stretches his neck a little, and his jet black hair catches and twinkles like the remnants of starlight under the dim light of the restaurant.

“i’m a little picky about what i do.” his gaze is on you again. “you of all people should know that i’m not the kind of guy to be a corporate slave. i know having the ability to choose is a luxury in a society like this, but i can try, can’t i?”

you wish he wouldn’t say that. you wish you didn’t know him so well. you wish he would stop assuming that you did. you curl your fist in your lap under the table. big emotions swirl in your chest: regret, desperation, anger, but above all, a sense of foolishness for thinking that maybe, just maybe, your desire for him wasn’t as unfounded as you believed it to be. 

“c’mon,” he urges. he leans in, and his voice quiets itself. “there’s a lot i have to explain to you. i… i know there’s a lot i did you wrong by. but that’s why i’m here, aren’t i? won’t you give me another chance?”

your heart plunges into your stomach when you hear the sweet cadences of his softened words. the same tones as the dulcet “good morning”s he’d whisper to you after a romantic night, the “get home safe”s he’d wish you when he’d drop you off at your train station late at night, the same whispered words from a lifetime past. he can definitely sense you wavering, the fear in your eyes, the misery that he single-handedly caused. 

your lips quiver. the wise thing would be to not answer him, but could you really bear to do that? to sit in silence and close that door. this whole thing could backfire on you and leave you even more broken than he did before, but the gnawing in your gut tells you the very thing you had feared from yourself. 

you were still in love with akira kurusu. you had always been.

“d-don’t make me answer that.” you hang your head. akira hums softly, and he pushes away from you again, lengthening the distance between you and him across the table by just a few more inches so you could breathe. 

“well… you have the rest of the evening to think about it.” he raises his hand, smoothly waving someone from the waiting staff over. he looks to you through the corner of his eye, and when your eyes meet, he resembles less of the boy you once loved and more like a gentleman this time around, still craving to get his paws all over your love and steal it away selfishly for himself, but with more of a dangerous edge to it. like a blade hidden behind a pretty wrapper, you know his aim was to always gun straight for your heart. 

his eyes narrow slightly. his lips part ever so slightly, as beautiful as the day five years ago you had given him your last kiss. 

“but at the very least… why don’t you give ‘us’ another chance?”

…

…

…

“...thank you for dinner. it was very lovely.”

“there’s really no need to thank me. think nothing of it. like i said, it was the least i could do for you.” akira rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. the night air is cool against your face as the night settles down on the busy city. there’s the distant honking of horns, an ever present reminder to you that the inhabitants of shibuya never truly sleep. the world is constantly moving around you, just like time, whether you like it or not.

the sun is long gone, and the bright city lights replace its glamor. they almost remind you of stars if you let your vision unfocus, but right now, the floor is suddenly the most interesting thing you’ve seen in your entire life.

“if that’s all… i should be on my way before it gets much darker.” if you could run away from the entrance of the restaurant, you would do so in a heartbeat. you want to go home and lock yourself in your bedroom and sob your eyes out into your pillows, undoubtedly over all of the reopened wounds and over your own cowardice in regards to how to face akira. it was like whenever you made the resolve to get over him, he’d romp around your mind, and whenever you tried to play into his game, he’d simply turn the tables on you.

he glances at you. disappointment tinges his features, and it’s enough to make your heart squeeze with a bit of a painful pang. “already…? i was going to ask you if you wanted to do this again. i’ll be around the city for a little bit, and i really enjoyed myself.”

you stop dead in your tracks. it’s a bad idea to accept, but you can’t bear to do it when he’s looking at you with those big, wide eyes. it’s his ultimate weapon, paired best with his quick mind. he knows how to get you to crumble, to make your own mind turn against you, and you’re hesitating again. akira has you dancing in the palm of your hand all so effortlessly. 

it’s best for you to be ambiguous. just because he can see all of your cards doesn’t mean that he can predict the way you’ll choose to play them. “i’ll see when i have time in my schedule and get back to you.”

he looks at you as if he’s unconvinced with your lackluster answer, but he’s smart. he chooses not to press you further about it. after all, cornered prey tend to get the most defensive, and he would much rather that you walk willingly into his honeyed traps. 

“y’know… are you busy right now then? i’ve got a bit of a hankering for something after such a nice dinner, and my place isn’t too far off from here.” he moves closer to you, and your heart leaps into your throat at the sudden proximity. he smiles gently at you, almost too innocent for your own good. “i’ve been practicing brewing coffee all this time. i could fix you a nice cup. it’ll be a lot better than all the shitty ones i’d make you drink when we were both in high school. do you still like your coffee the same as you did back then? c’mon, it’s just one cup. i’ll make it worth your while.”

you should be wiser. sharper. stricter. but akira looks like a kicked puppy, and he also looks like he’s about to grab onto your wrist and beg on his knees if you were to give him the cold shoulder and leave. there’s a sticky lump in the back of your throat that won’t go away no matter how much you swallow, and you wonder if giving in to him would make the uneasiness in your stomach go away. would it be worth it?

“...you said your place wasn’t far?” the words coming from your mouth feel like a death sentence. the black-haired man instantly lights up, and he nods enthusiastically. 

“just a couple of minutes. follow me. i promise i won’t make you regret this.” he reaches for your hand, and sparks shoot across your body when his long fingers wrap around yours, tugging you closer to his side. your stomach plummets, and you’re struck with the horrifying revelation that his hands feel so right intertwined with yours. it reminds you too closely of when he was yours, of when you’d walk side-by-side as if you were a real couple. 

you can barely remember the walk to his place. you vaguely recall crossing a few streets, your attention too transfixed on the man guiding you. you stumble up a few apartment steps, your heartbeat hammering in between your ears and stirring up a storm in your temples as he fumbles with his front keys, swinging his door open too eagerly, and practically shoving you into his apartment suite. 

your throat tightens up for the millionth time that night when the first thing you can make out from his doorway is how much his apartment simply smells like him. it hasn’t changed in five years; he still smells exactly like the way he would when you’d nuzzle into the crook of his neck all those years ago.

“it’s not anything special.” he comes up from behind you, kicking his shoes off before straightening them by the entrance. “but it’s perfect for someone living alone. i promise it’s normally a lot cleaner than i have it right now, so ignore anything that… might be a bit messy. y’know how it is with us men and living alone.”

you barely respond to his joke as you slide your own shoes off, stuck in basically a trance-like state. you trace your eyes over every part of his tiny apartment: the pictures hung up on his wall, the coats hanging from the closet with the door slid halfway open, the mismatched bits of furniture he most definitely got second hand. despite his warning, his place is maintained nicely and clean, nothing short of what you’d expect from someone as surprisingly prim and proper as him. he’s a gentleman to his core. 

he leads you to his living room, where you can get a pretty good glimpse of his small kitchen. his place is rather intimate, cozy, the kind of place that feels like it was made to welcome you. you barely keep yourself from curling your hands into fists to keep them from shaking, and you focus your mind on the details you can see as you sink down into his couch.

“stay right there.” akira pads into the kitchen, and he opens his cabinets to rummage for his supplies. “i’m going to break out the really fancy coffee cups, just for you. sojiro never taught me this part specifically, but i’m pretty sure he’d rip my teeth out if i served my coffee to a pretty lady in a regular cup.”

you almost stop breathing when he slips in a compliment so nonchalantly. you want to scold him and tell him to quit doing things like that. it’s bad for your resolve, and you hate to think about how he managed to get this smooth while you were gone. you gnaw on your tongue as akira hums to himself, working his magic with the beans of his choice. soon enough, the mature aroma of coffee stains the air, wafting like a magic spell towards you and intermingling with his scent. you could get drunk off a smell like this, entranced and held captive in place without a single restraint to physically hold you down.

you’re so caught up in savoring this nice atmosphere, irregardless of the weird tension mounting the back of your mind, that you barely catch akira as he brings you a fancy cup filled with freshly made coffee. he has a matching one for himself, a pair finely decorated porcelain cups that feature what looks like a painted couple in old rococo-esque clothes. they’re definitely meant to be used together, probably best for a couple. you don’t really get the chance to overthink it too much, as he hands you one and keeps one for himself. you mumble a shy word of thanks as you warm your hands against the glass.

your reflection stares back at you when you glance over the rim. the color is dark yet refined, like you’re staring into a rippling lake rather than a cup of coffee. it smells even more delicious now that it’s up close, and it feels like a shame to drink it. it makes you wish that you were a coffee connoisseur in the way that akira is, like you’re unfit to be able to appreciate the art that comes with making a beautiful cup of coffee.

“i made it just the way i remember you to like it. but better, of course, now that i have more practice under my belt. i know what i’m doing with my coffee now. go ahead. try it, and let me know what you think.” akira encourages you. his eyes are twinkling in clear excitement. you peek at him and then back at your dumbfounded self staring back in the coffee.

you bring the cup to your lips and take a tentative sip, not wanting to burn yourself. a rich and deep flavor, bitter and yet delectable, coats your tongue and the inside of your cheeks. it slips down your throat easily, warming you up from the inside and out and taking away the tension building up in your body straight away. you let out a small sigh of happiness as you take the cup away from your lips, and you’re pretty sure your contentment is written all over your face.

he grins. “good, isn’t it? i knew you’d like this one. i’ll spare you all the details about the beans i’ve used since you probably don’t want to hear it. but have as much as you’d like. nothing makes a man prouder than knowing that he’s made his girl happy.”

there it is again. you look down at your coffee cup with mixed feelings stirring in your heart. but the atmosphere right now is too good for you to want to ruin it. you want to savor what little sweetness you can steal from him. you’ve willingly walked into the lion’s den, and if you’re staring directly into doom’s maw, the very least you could do was to find some enjoyment in it. 

so instead you simply lift the cup, pretend you’re gulping back any regrets and doubts in your mind, and take another generous mouthful of the coffee akira’s specially brewed for you.

…

…

…

“ohhhh- ah- fuck- wait, d-don’t touch me there like that…!”

your body twists violently against his bed, and akira laughs softly against your ear. his grip on you from behind is tight, and no matter how much you thrash against his chest, he refuses to let go of you. your skin is hot despite the cool fabric of his sheets, and it feels like your body’s going to completely give out on you.

you already knew from the start that his coy invitation for coffee was just bait for him to lure you into his bed. but even with that knowledge, there’s something about being stuck back in a lewd embrace with him again that has your stomach coiling in with both excitement and shame. both of your clothes are strewn against his floor, and his cheap mattress creaks as if annoyed whenever you writhe in his arms.

“you’ve changed so much during the time i took my eyes off of you.” one hand gropes shamelessly at your bare tits, sighing when he feels the plush flesh of your chest fill out his palms. his fingers play with your erect nipples, applying just the slightest bit of pressure all to get you to cry out and throw your head back against his bare chest. “and yet… all of your sensitive parts haven’t changed whatsoever. you’ve missed me, haven’t you?”

you don’t have any words for something like that. your lips are swollen from how much he’s kissed you, the small talk about coffee nothing more than an overture for him to lead you into his bedroom, effortlessly coaxing your clothes off of you and indulging in your body again. you hate how well he meshes with your body, how responsive you are to his physical touches, as if you’ve been waiting for this as much as he was.

“i asked you a question.” his sharp voice cuts through the haze in your thoughts, and you shudder when his other hand snakes down your stomach. one knee expertly separates your legs, and a moan builds up in the back of your throat when he starts playing with your wetness. 

akira is a tease through and through. he slides his fingers up and down your slit, and you let out an embarrassed squeak, wanting to cover your face. your juices cover his digits, and heat throbs in your core and pulses under the skin of your face when you register the slick sounds your folds make. 

fuck—were you really that aroused already? 

“so wet… and all we did was kiss. are you that turned on from just that? you’re rather naughty, aren’t you?” he looks at you with words that are nothing like how sweet his eyes are. your voice dies out in your mouth as his fingers start to circle around your pulsing hole, almost like it’s a silent reminder of how much easy access he has to your body.

it’s not fair how easily he can get you to physically succumb to him. this was definitely your fault; you refused any other romantic prospects ever since akira left you, which meant that it had been five long years where your only sexual release was whatever you had to offer to yourself. and with how badly you’ve been pining after him, it was safe to say that touching yourself came nowhere close to having akira’s hands wandering all over your body again.

you yelp when he bites down slightly at your ear, his sharp incisors nipping carefully at the thin skin.

“i want an answer,” he demands breathlessly. “you’ve always been so shy… that part of you hasn’t changed at all.”

“d-don’t make me answer that…!” you choke out. your voice is high-pitched and strained, nothing like the collected facade you had shown him during dinner. he pinches your swollen clit, and pleasure stabs at your stomach. you arch your back against his chest, another desperate cry escaping you. he’s good at this little back and forth, flickering between torturing your clit to rubbing loving circles into your sticky nub. your pussy convulses, and your inner walls are drooling to be fucked out and stuffed with his cock. your body’s missed his touches almost as much as you have emotionally, and the fact that he’s experienced with your body does nothing in your favor.

he presses his lips into the gentle curve of your face, kissing you over and over again. his kisses are so sweet and chaste, unlike the way he toys with your lower half. your hole flutters and dances around his fingertips, leaking like a broken faucet, your pussy telling him everything you refuse to verbalize. he knows how much you want him to fuck you, but he also knows how stubbornly shy you can get. and he also knows that sex is so much more fun when he can peel back all of your walls to get you right where he wants you.

“you’re going to have to answer me, you know,” he purrs. the vibrations reverberate against his chest and towards your bare back. “a gentleman would never do something his lady doesn’t want to do. you can thank sojiro for that.”

you squeeze your thighs slightly around his wrist, and you shudder. “please… don’t do this to me… it’s embarrassing.”

“it’s only me… you’ve slept with me before. why so shy now?” his tongue laps at the shell of your ear, and another shiver runs down your spine when his warm tongue captures your sensitive skin, licking against the thin skin and making your pussy clamp up unintentionally. “unless…? don’t tell me. is there another guy you’ve been doing this with?”

you shake your head vehemently. you wouldn’t ever dream about fucking someone that isn’t akira kurusu.

“like i said, it’s- it’s embarrassing…!!” you breathe. his hands feel so good, touching you all over from behind. you can feel him grinding his hard-on against your ass, and your throat constricts on itself when you feel how big and thick he is. he was always well-built even when you fucked him during your teenage years, but in your memory, he wasn’t this big… your cunt throbs painfully with anticipation at the thought of being stretched out on such a big cock after such a long dry spell, and the arousal swirling slowly in your stomach pleads with you to set your pride aside just this once.

he sighs against your ear. he’s disgustingly sensual, that stupid akira, and his words are honeyed and sensual. “it’s only me… c’mon, all you need to say is that you want me. ‘please fuck me, akira! please fuck me with your cock! i want it inside my pussy!’ that's all you need to say. not too hard now, hm? i basically told you what you needed to say.”

heat burns at your cheeks, and there’s a lump in the back of your throat. you want it, you want to do everything he just said so badly. you want him to pin you down to his cheap mattress and fuck the daylights out of you, until you can’t feel your legs and you can let go of all the emotional baggage you built up. the shame and the embarrassment grip in between your hips, and you swallow back whatever hesitation swims in your gullet.

“p-please fuck me, akira…,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “i want you inside me… want your cock inside my pussy…”

“hm? what was that? i could barely hear you.” akira presses harshly against your clit. you let out a loud yelp, electric pleasure jolting up in your pussy. “see? i know you’re capable of being much louder with that pretty voice of yours…”

if looks could kill, you would have murdered akira in your bed with the glare you shot him. he blinks innocently at you, a small grin poised on his lips. this is a battle you can’t win, unless you want to leave his house unsatisfied and unable to do anything about the throbbing deep inside your gut.

“please fuck me, akira!” you make sure your words are pointed. “i-i want you to fuck me! please put your cock inside my- my pussy…!”

he laughs under his breath and rewards you with a kiss, even though you’re flushing with heat and wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. “oh, i’ll gladly do that, sweetheart. that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

you bite back your complaints, heart thumping wildly inside of your chest. his erection prods against your thighs, and you part them wider so he can slot himself from behind. you swallow again when his cock slides up and down your slit, and your vision spins when he grinds up against your pussy. his fingers continue to rub and play with your clit, making sure that you don’t get even a second of rest from him.

his pre-cum stained cockhead prods naughtily at your fluttering hole. you take in a deep breath as he presses his tip against the tight ring of muscle. his dark eyes peer at you. “ready, my pretty girl?”

you nod, and a moan immediately lodges itself inside your mouth when he pushes himself in. he’s slow, painstakingly slow, when he pushes himself in. it’s like he wants you to feel every inch of his length, reminding you of everything you’ve missed, of how good it felt to have his cock penetrating you again after so long. akira hisses through his teeth, pushing his cock into your cunt, fighting past through all of the hot and wet tightness, and it takes all of his self-restraint not to empty his balls into your pussy right there and then.

“shit…,” he says breathlessly, “were you always this tight…? fuck- your pussy’s clenching all over my dick… can’t get enough of me now, can you?”

you focus on your breathing, trying to relax your body. a dull sense of pleasure pricks at your brain, and it spreads and trickles under your skin as if it’s a droplet of blood pooling at your fingertip and dripping down. your stomach curls in on itself, and even when you were bracing yourself for the stretch, feeling it all anew feels like it’s blowing your brains out.

“ah-,” you exhale shakily, trembling in his arms, “s-so big…”

“yeah?” he sounds strained too, his cock twitching dangerously against its tight restraints. “‘ve missed this pretty pussy so much, love. i knew you weren’t someone i could just let go willy-nilly. i’ve got you now, pretty, all in my arms.”

you hum, savoring the sensation of your plush walls stretching out to fit his cock, his balls tensed up at your entrance. he hadn’t started moving yet and you were this starstruck over his dick. how the hell were you going to live through the whole ordeal? it didn’t matter. even this much felt good and had you writhing like a lithe cat against his chest, your curves slotting straight into his wandering hands like two matching pieces of a puzzle.

“y-you feel different,” you mumble as one hand ghosts over your chest and the other makes its place in between your thighs again. a whimper bubbles up inside of you when he goes back to rubbing slow circles into your clit, your pussy clenching up and massaging his dick as arousal shoots through your stomach. 

“mhm? tell me about it.” he draws his hips back carefully, and you can hear him let out a haggard exhale when your walls cling to him, not wanting to let his cock go. the friction has you seeing stars in your mind, your brain threatening to melt into goo. he’s still incredibly slow as he pushes back into you, giving your body a chance to catch up, but even at this pace, his thrusts are deep and full.

you shouldn’t stroke his ego, but you wouldn’t be lying if you said that the five years you spent apart from him did change him. maybe you also had gone too long without him and the withdrawal had changed you too. “i don’t know… you feel bigger- feels good inside me…”

“yeah? keep talking to me then. i missed that sweet voice of yours.” his eyelids flutter when your walls twist around him, your greedy pussy eagerly sucking him in deeper and swallowing him in. “ohhhh, fuck…! shit, you feel so fucking good- so fucking tight… haven’t had your pussy in way too long…”

your chest tightens, and you can feel your breathing growing shaky. his thrusts are slowly getting faster, finding a groove that has your thoughts quivering with each snap of his hips. you’re hypersensitive to how he feels inside of you. you can feel everything, and your pussy remembers again how good it felt to have him fucking you. he remembers too, the angles that you liked and just how deep he needed to fuck into you to get you to squeal. and speak of the devil-

“-!! akira!! n-not there, akira! s-so deep-!” your words start slurring together. pleasure rips through your pussy as he effortlessly locates your sweet spot again and starts bullying your deepest parts with his cockhead. “i-if you keep fucking me like that, you’re gonna make me cum…!”

“you say that like it’s a bad thing,” akira chuckles. his dark curls sweep against his forehead, eyes hiding behind the wisps of midnight black hair. “what if that’s what i want you to do? what kind of man leaves his girl unsatisfied? it’s only fun when you’re feeling good… i want to see if i can still get you to crumble after all these years.”

you hiccup as he keeps fucking into you. you can’t think properly, not when he’s hitting your sweet spot without any issue, each thrust forcing his cockhead to slam into your g-spot right on. he keeps playing with your clit, moving in rhythm with his thrusts so that you don’t get even a moment’s worth of reprise. your chest is tight, and your breathing is ragged, your brain only managing to hang on just to get enough oxygen to your fluttering heart.

“yeah, you like it when i touch you like this, don’t you?” akira sounds so full of himself as he practically purrs at you like a cat. he wasn’t lying when he said he missed your body; his cock keeps drooling inside of you. your juices intermingle and mix, acting as the perfect lubricant for him. each snap of his hips is faster and harder, and your mind keeps lighting up with sparks of pleasure as his cock stretches you out. “that’s my girl. ‘m so glad i got your attention again. life is just too boring without you here… ‘m not gonna leave you again, you hear? i made that mistake once. i’m not gonna make it twice.”

“akira!” you scream out, unable to hold yourself back. so much for that rightful fear of yours. you could never resist him, not when he’s saying the very things you dreamt of for five years straight, consoling yourself with no one at your side, just imagining how things might be different if he had wanted you as much as you wanted him.

and now he does. now he’s gripping onto your body, making you twist and turn with pleasure, completely at his mercy with your legs spread apart and your cunt stretched out his girthy cock. the squelching noises as his cock slides in and out of you are downright obscene, and you can’t remember the last time you had gotten this shamelessly wet. not even masturbating had your pussy this excited; your fingers could never replace what real dick did for your cunt.

“there we go. that’s my name,” he praises you. “scream it all you want for me. i want to hear your pretty voice. it makes me feel really good when i hear you crying out my name… it’s like you know that i’m your man. only me. not anybody else.”

you shudder, his dirty talk making your stomach furl in on itself. you hate that silken tongue of his, how he can say such sweet things to you and yet turn you on so badly. you’re glad that he likes you this much; otherwise, you don’t even want to think about what other embarrassing things he might make you do for his own entertainment. this is his version of playing nice. you’re lucky that he considers himself a gentleman and would do anything for your pleasure. 

the lewd sounds of lovemaking and skin against skin quickly fill the room, and he’s thrusting into you just the way you like it. he wasn’t lying when he said he remembered every detail of your sensitive body. he was so good at playing with your body that it almost felt like you were being attacked at all angles. he was showering your nipples and clit with attention, his lips chasing after your body and pressing sticky kisses all over whatever patches of bare skin he could reach. he’d lean his head to make out with you too, eating up your moans as you cry into his mouth, his tongue swirling against yours and making you almost collapse into a heap of sweaty limbs and lovejuices out of how good it was.

“so tight… yeah, you like it like this, don’t you? my cock is the best, isn’t it? you keep clenching up around me, pretty girl,” he breathes. his words are velvety and dark, and whenever he slips his tongue into your mouth, he tastes so addictively good. “i can feel how much your pussy wants me… even if you’re committed to being this shy, your body tells me everything i need to know.”

“don’t say things like that…!” you somehow force your words out through gritted teeth. “i already told you, it’s embarrassing!”

his lips curl into a cruel smile as he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, clearly enjoying the way he’s making you squirm. if there’s one thing akira loves, it’s putting you in the hotseat and knowing that he has this kind of effect on you. “is it though? i’m only telling the truth.”

he pinches at your clit at the same time he thrusts up harshly into you, and you let out a breathless shriek as red-hot pleasure rams into your gut. your inner walls clamp down unconsciously onto his dick, gripping onto every inch of his cock. your cervix milks and massages his tip, your pussy pleading desperately to be filled up with both his cock and his cum. 

“just like that.” he sounds so pleased with himself. akira isn’t the kind of guy to get a big head and walk around as if he ruled the place, but he wasn’t one to let any of his victories just slide past. “see? that pretty pussy of yours won’t lie to me.”

your stomach won’t stop lurching with each rough thrust. the heat deep inside of you keeps coiling into painful knots, and you think you’re going to lose your mind. all you can think about is how good it feels to have akira messing up your insides, your walls squelching and molding itself to the shape of his cock. the pleasure is mind-numbing in every sense of the word, and your brain keeps devouring all of the sensations flickering underneath your skin. he knows how to get you aroused too easily, and he makes sure you feel everything he’s doing to you. whether it’s speeding up or slowing down, egging you on with your most sensitive parts, he doesn’t give you an opportunity to really catch up with him. 

“feels good- feels so good-,” your words are starting to melt together incoherently, all of the overwhelming sensations getting the better of you. “if you keep fucking me like that, you’re gonna make me cum…”

“oh, silly girl, we’ve talked about this already.” he kisses your shoulder, and your mouth goes dry when the tip of his sharp teeth ghosts over your exposed skin. “i already told you that that was my goal from the very start. i wanna see my girl cum all over my cock, just like you used to do. you’d make the prettiest noises as you came… are you going to moan for me like that again? or are you going to get shy? do i have to fuck the moans out of you?”

you whimper helplessly, cunt tightening up. you hate how much that turns you on, how much letting him have his way with you has you melting like putty. you must have more of a masochistic side than you’re willing to admit, given how much you get off on having akira manhandle you. 

“don’t be mean to me… you’re so mean…,” you eke out weakly. 

“i’m not being mean. if anything, you’re the mean one… is it too much for a man to want to see how good he’s making his girl feel? i want to see your face twisted in pleasure, your voice all ruined for me, your body all messed up because of me…,” he hums to himself. the lump in the back of your throat is there again, and as if to accentuate his point, he thrusts sharply into you. 

a shockwave of heat shreds you from the inside out, and you arch your back harshly. he keeps torturing you like this. is this his way of edging you? keeping you this close to the edge and telling you about how much he wants to make you cum but not really letting you? akira loves how responsive your pussy is, how you keep milking his cock and fluttering all excitedly around him whenever he whispers about all the lewd things he wants to do to you. your thighs won’t stop shaking, and your juices are dripping everywhere, coating his balls and trickling down your skin and messing up his sheets. 

you’re going to cum soon. your body feels weak and flushed all at once, and heat keeps mounting wildly inside of you. you can’t keep up with everything akira’s doing to you, and no matter how much he’s teasing you and whispering all sorts of dirty things into your ear, all of it is going straight into making your pussy feel good. your cunt won’t quit sucking him in, instantly hooked on the feeling of having your ex-fling’s cock stuffing it again. 

you’re better than this. you know that, and yet you’re not above falling prey to akira’s words and honeyed traps. he’s spun a perfect web to ensnare you in, and you never stood a chance. he has you right where he wants you. 

and you look so, so beautiful to him. he can feel how close you are. your pussy keeps pulsing and squeezing around his length, and your moans are growing more and more desperate. your eyes have lost focus a long time ago, but he knows that if he were to grab your face and force you to look at him, your pupils would still dilate and show him a clear reflection of his triumphant face. sweat beads at your body, and your bare skin is all laid out for him to admire. how could he ever leave you behind like that? you’re everything he’s ever wanted and more. it’s almost too good for him to believe.

“wanna cum-,” you stumble over your own words. “please- ‘m so close, akira… it hurts- don’t edge me…”

he hums, and you let out a pained whine when he slows his pace down, dragging his cock out of you painfully. your hole clings to every inch of his cock, not wanting to let him go, scared that he won’t fuck himself back into you. your brain lights up with pleasure as he slowly fucks himself back in before speeding back up, and the sensation is like whiplash to your overwhelmed senses.

your stomach curls dangerously, and your vision shakes violently as the heat rushes to your gut. you’re so close, so close to cumming, basically almost there. you hold your breath, anticipating the dizzying fall, just needing a little more from him to tip you over the edge. you clench your eyes shut as your insides throw a fit, overstimulated and reeling from how downright good it feels to get dicked down again.

except akira won’t give it to you that easily. 

you let out a drawn out cry when he controls his pace and refuses to give you what you want, and you writhe in his arms, clawing at his bare skin and shaking your head back and forth. it’s awful, you hate it, you hate not being able to cum, feeling like there was a dry spell that refused to be satiated. you feel hollow and empty despite him fucking his cock back into you, trying to build that arousal back up.

“y-you’re edging me!” you protest. “please- i was so close- just wanna cum… it hurts…”

“sorry.” he doesn’t sound sorry at all, but he tries to appease you by pressing another flurry of sweet kisses to your face and neck. “can you blame me though? you sound so pretty, look so pretty… i like knowing that i still have it in me. hm? i’m making you feel good, aren’t i?”

it’s unfair how easily he can mess around with both your physical needs and your emotions. all you care about right now is the burning in between your thighs, the secondary pulse inside of your pussy wanting release. your pussy keeps getting more and more sloppy, juices spilling everywhere. your body isn’t resisting any of his touches anymore, and he’s fucking into you without cracking a sweat.

“c’mon,” he whispers seductively. “let me hear you beg for me some more. this is the only time you’ll ever sweeten up to me. you’re usually the thorny one otherwise. think you’re up for it? or do i need to tell you what to say again?”

your throat tightens, and your mind wavers. your thoughts have hazed over a long time ago, not caring about anything else happening in the world. all that mattered to you right now was the delicious stretch of akira’s cock inside your hole, and all you wanted right now was to cum all over his dick like you didn’t have a shred of pride left in your body. and you bet that was what akira wanted out of you: his guarded and jaded former classmate fucked out into a loving, cum-stained mess right in his bed.

the words are leaving your mouth before you can even fully comprehend them. “want it- want it so bad, akira… please, please, wanna cum on your cock- i’ve wanted it so bad… wanted it all this time, nothing else made me feel good! your cock’s the best, i wanna cum on your cock… please- i can’t think about anything else!”

he laughs breathlessly. you don’t know if it’s because he’s incredulous or if it’s because he’s impressed. maybe both. you couldn’t care less, not when your arousal pounds painfully throughout every corner of your body. you think you’ll actually burst if you don’t get to cum soon.

“yeah? god, can you blame me for getting so greedy with you when this is the kind of shit you reward me with?” he kisses your temples softly, and his lips move against your sweat-beaded skin. “i suppose i’ve tortured you enough, yeah? what a good girl you are, doing everything i ask you to do… it’s okay, i’m not going anywhere. you can cum on my cock as much as you want. it’s my turn to pamper my girl a bit…”

finally. finally…! good god, you swear you’re about to see the pearly gates right there. akira angles his hips just right, and he rams mercilessly into you, savoring the choked out cries and moans of thanks you let out, his name generously mixed into your muddled whimpers the way he likes it best. you’re hanging on by a thread, and akira’s fucking you in a way that’ll have you come undone any moment now.

“c-cumming…! ‘m cumming- akira- oh fuck- fuck, fuck, cumming!” 

your cunt clamps down on his cock like a vice, and you throw your head back, a breathless shriek dying out on your lips as your orgasm crashes into you like a brick wall. something warm and wet gushes out in between your thighs, and heat overtakes you entirely. it feels so good, feeling that tightness in your gut snap and unravel and come completely loose, all of the pleasure coursing through your veins and making your mind go entirely blank. you can barely force a breath through your mouth, shuddering as akira guides you through your high, keeping your quivering walls stretched out to their limit as he pumps his cock in and out you through it all.

your world spins, and it feels like everything is giving out under you. your already foggy vision is fighting to stay as it is, and you cling to whatever part of akira is holding you from behind. fuck, you can’t remember when the last time you came like this was. masturbating and fucking yourself on your fingers all by yourself always felt so dull and lackluster, and actually getting a taste of real dick after having been deprived for so long felt like your entire universe was being flipped upside down. you didn’t even realize how badly you were shaking until akira held firmly onto your form, keeping you locked flush against his bare chest.

“ooh, bet that felt really nice-,” his voice warbles through your hearing. your heartbeat roars against your ears, and it takes everything in you to fully focus on what he’s saying. “fuck- i missed making my girl cum like that… i almost forgot that you make such a pretty face whenever you cum… makes me want to tease you even more. yeah? did it feel that good to cum on my cock? you missed it too, didn’t you?”

your head is heavy as you try to get yourself to nod, fully aware of all the slick covering his cock now. did you really cum that hard? you can’t make heads or tails out of anything right now, the aftermath of your high still possessing you fully. you’re a fucked out mess in that moment, and your head buzzes with the dull thrums of euphoric pleasure. you’re vaguely aware of how much akira’s dick is twitching inside of you, undoubtedly hurtling close to his own high now that he’s seen you turn into this mushy mess all because of him. 

his balls twitch against your lower lips. his cock keeps spasming deep inside of you, and the same desperation that had claimed you whole is egging him on too. he wants to fuck his cum into you, watch your cunt struggle to keep all of it, stare down at you with his lust-stricken eyes as the pearly white ropes start to leak out of you. 

you whine against the friction as he keeps bucking his hips against yours, grinding up just to feel a bit more of you. your head spins at the overstimulation, with him still rutting against you despite the fact that you just came. “t-too much, akira-”

“i’m close, promise-,” he grunts out. “bear with me, okay? so close, gonna fill up your pretty pussy with my cum- you’re being so good for me…”

you nod weakly. you want him to fill you up, want to feel the swell of your stomach as his cum floods your insides. you can bear that much. you keep crying out for him, letting your voice spur him on. you’re sure you’re going to be a sore mess tomorrow, aches already spreading across your lower back and legs, but with how much downright pleasure he can plunge you straight into, it’s a worthwhile trade off.

“god, you’re so fucking perfect…! take it- fuck- take it all… gonna make you mine, gonna make you my girl-,” akira groans. you yelp when he grabs at your hips and keeps you stuck in place, and he buries his cock as deep as he can fuck himself into you. a cold shiver spreads across your spine when he cums hard straight into your cunt, and the warmth bursts across your gut. your walls keen and strain as it stretches out to take his semen while his cock is still stuffed inside, and a sense of otherworldly bliss spreads across your brain when you can feel white hot ropes flood your womb.

“ohhhh- fuck- god-,” akira cries out. he buries his head against your shoulder, panting heavily. your intoxicating scent fills his nose, and he swears that he’s no longer on this earth. just as much as you’ve craved the physical intimacy, akira longed to feel this again, to feel your weight in his arms, to feel the warmth of his cock softening inside of your cunt as your lovejuices mix together. all sorts of hazy pleasures flicker up inside of his mind, and there’s nothing he wants to do more than to keep whispering sweet nothings to you and have you all plugged up with his cum, cement you as his for just a few seconds longer.

but he knows better than to push his luck even more than he has. your mind is swimming even more than his is, and he has to be the responsible one despite having initiated this whole mess to begin with. 

he pulls out with a low groan, and you turn over to lay down on your back finally. your knees part unconsciously, and when akira sits up, he’s immediately entranced at the slow stream of his cum that trickles out of your fluttering hole. his cum slides down the curve of your ass and onto his sheets, a small pool forming underneath you.

did… he really cum that much?

he lets you have a second to pull yourself together, and he helps you. you’re still shaky, but you manage to thank him quietly as he gets up. he grabs the base of his half-hard cock, and he presses the sticky tip to your mouth. you look up at him wordlessly through your eyelashes, but your tongue darts out in between your lips. you obediently start licking the excessive cum off of his length, making sure to swirl your tongue into his slit and let him see you swallowing down whatever he couldn’t fuck into your throbbing cunt.

you missed this salty, heady taste too. you wish you weren’t so fucked out, wish you had something intelligent to say to this. more than anything else though, you wish you could feel something other than a sick sense of delight at everything that went down. you should be mortified at letting him pry his way into your heart so easily, for letting your walls down so quickly despite having spent five years building them up. 

but now that everything was said and done, all you wanted in that moment was for him to lay down again so you could crawl back into his arms and feel his heartbeat against your bare body. that was the kind of man akira kurusu was. you couldn’t bring yourself to stay away from him for too long, no matter what you tried. you two were meant to be, no matter how much that sentiment had hurt you whenever you were young.

akira mumbles something about getting ready to clean you up, and you gingerly let yourself flop back down on his bed. fatigue seeps quickly into you. too much happened all at once that night, and no matter how much you fought through the fog in your head to make sense of everything, you remember very little after a certain point.

…

…

…

the appetizing scent of curry and coffee greets you when you slowly let your eyelids flutter open. you’re still naked, and the blanket covering you is light and cool. a gentle stream of sunlight tiptoes through the bedroom, and you stir, suddenly aware of how sleep-logged and heavy your body feels. still, it feels nice when you stretch your arms and legs, before realization slams into your consciousness like a sack of bricks.

you shoot upright, and your back immediately screams out in pain. 

fuck. you messed up. you messed up big time.

you scramble to the edge of the bed, and in the corner, your clothes are freshly laundered and folded up. uncertainty gnaws at your stomach, and you rush to get dressed, haphazardly dragging your clothes over your head and slithering into whatever you had on last night. there’s no sign of akira anywhere, at least inside the bedroom, but this place is very much not your room nor your bed, so it has to be akira’s.

it was one thing to go out to dinner with akira and go back to his place for a cup of coffee. it was another to somehow end up having sex with him and passing out in his bed as if you two were actually lovers. you want to slap yourself in the face as the mortification fully settles in. you had only wanted closure last night, and now you don’t know what to make of the situation. things just got messy way too fast; you never had intended on sleeping with him, let alone letting him fuck you raw and creampie you.

you have half a mind to make a run straight for his front door, but when you crack his bedroom door open, you can hear humming and the clattering of plates from the kitchen. you shyly pad out into his hallway and towards where the noise is coming from. whatever foolish hopes you had of making a clean getaway were gone the moment you woke up, clearly having slept in from how much sunlight was pouring in through all of the windows. the very least you could do was maybe thank him for taking care of you last night and apologize for staying the night unexpectedly.

“oh!” akira whirls around with a pan in his hand. surprise blooms on his face, but he quickly smiles at you. “you’re up already! was i too loud? here, why don’t you take a seat at the table? i was hoping i could wake you up with breakfast already prepared, but i guess you beat me to it.”

heat pricks at your cheeks. you want to decline his offer, but the scent of food hits far stronger now that you’re close to the source. you’re begrudgingly reminded of how hungry you are when your stomach practically yowls, so you hang your head and shuffle awkwardly over to take a seat at his dining table. at the center is a small box of contraception and a glass of water, clearly meant for you, and you’re rendered shy again at how far ahead akira is compared to you.

he must have woken up early to have run to the store for plan b and to have enough time to basically cook up a whole meal for you. you don’t have to wait long before akira proudly presents you with a plate of hot rice and curry, followed by a mug of coffee prepared the way you like it best.

“eat. you’ll need the energy if you’re going to be taking the pill,” he encourages you. he presses a spoon into your hand, and you say a quick word of thanks before digging into the food. you’re not sure if it’s because he’s a good chef or if it’s because you’re ravenous, but you make quick work of breakfast. akira laughs softly at how you’re wolfing down your food and reminds you to chew, but before either of you know it, both of your plates are empty and a strained silence lingers above your heads.

“um…” you glance nervously at him. “i can do your dishes before i leave. and- um- please let me know how much i owe you for everything. i really should be on my way…”

“do my dishes? owe me anything?” the dark-haired man looks at you as if you’ve grown a second head. “are you in a rush to go somewhere?”

you should lie and tell him you have a prior appointment. if you’re smart, you would have hopped on the closest train that’ll take you far far away from this dangerous man. but clearly you aren’t as smart as you believe yourself to be, given how many times you chose against the “smarter” option to land yourself where you are now. what’s one more indulgent mistake?

“not… necessarily.” you don’t know how to tell him that you’re not sure how to face everything now. it’s impossible to close the gap of five years in just one hookup, no matter how much your hearts might have both yearned for it. there’s a lot of heavy emotional work left to be done if you want something meaningful to come out of it, and you can’t deny the fact that akira has objectively hurt you by disappearing from your life five years ago. 

but when he reaches over the dining table to take your hand and squeeze it encouragingly, your resolve can only hold strong for so long. you peer up from where you’re staring down at your lap. his beautiful doe eyes are looking straight at you, and your heart throbs painfully inside of your chest. 

you want him. you want this. you want all of it to work out, somehow. 

“if there’s no hurry,” he murmurs soothingly, “stay a while. we have so much we have to catch up on.”

you want to believe in the good. in the worthwhile. in the in-betweens and the gray spaces and the happy endings that are still in the making. it might not have been there the last time, but things have changed, regardless of whether or not you’re willing to accept. with his hand intertwined with yours, this newfound tension hanging between the two of you, maybe it’s time for you to close the gap that had been plaguing you for so long.

this time, you won’t be alone.

author's note: wowee two fics from user pparadiselost within a week!!! i know, i know i have the most random posting schedule oopsie,,,, (//ω//) this fic is dedicated to @clubkira and was inspired by her lovely selfship with akira kurusu! i hope you all enjoyed reading, and if you want to show some appreciation, please consider donating to the humanitarian cause in gaza!!

[pparadiselost]

THOMAE -> CLUBKIRA!

end of the thomae era for now i fear . . . but give a big warm welcome to clubkira! new theme is coming super soon >_<

[pparadiselost]

your noa fanfic drove me crazy there is nothing i wouldn't do for you to write about ego 🧎

actaeon.

ego jinpachi x fem reader ego sets up the perfect trap to make you undeniably his. warning(s): nsfw, noncon, being filmed without consent, exhibitionism minors do not interact. author's note: hello there! thank you so much for sending in a request!! this one... got a little out of hand and gnarly, so if you'd prefer that i write a fic without the dark content, please shoot me another ask and i'll happily write up another fic for you!! (ノ*°▽°*)

ego jinpachi is distinctly aware of who he is as a person, and he’s distinctly aware of the privileges that come with his odd place as the coach of the blue lock project. he’s sworn under some legal masquerade to use his power only for the betterment of soccer’s future, as if anything other than his obsession with the sport flows inside his veins. 

he knows his place as a heretic. he’s an outcast always looking in: the director but never the star, the god but never the devotee, the abyss but never the light. he’s seen the way people distances themselves away from him, be it anri or even veterans like noel. ego is perfectly content playing the role he does. his crazed behavior brings the end, and in his worldview, the ends always justify the means.

but that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy the unforeseen pleasures that spring up along the thorny path. he’s a free man now, and he has the world at his disposal. fortune favors the bold, but happiness favors the hedons. 

“you’re so sloppy,” he drawls in that condescending voice of his. if it weren’t for the slight edge to it, you would think it sounded robotic. his long cock is buried deep into you as you squirm in his lap, and his long arms hold you flush and captive against his chest. 

you’re faced with the horrifying sight of every single one of ego’s giant monitors lit up, each one displaying you. they’re all relatively innocent moments from your life. you’re eating breakfast in one, scrolling through your phone on the other, paging through a book you picked up in another… things that, creepy as they may be, are candid snapshots of your average life. 

except for the singular monitor facing center stage, seeming to mock you. you watch, stricken with fear, as the video plays a recording of you stuffing your fingers in your cunt, your pussy stretched out unmistakably on display. ego grins devilishly, and he thrusts in rhythm with the video of you masturbating.

“n-no… don’t do this to me-,” you squeak out. you need to clear your mind, need to speak reason into him, need to persuade him to get rid of these clips and to quit using all the cameras in the building for ill, and yet with his cock sliding in and out of you, it’s impossible for you to get any of your priorities straight. “d-don’t thrust into me like that-!”

“but you like it. you like it when i fuck you to a video of you getting off,” he giggles. you don’t need to be looking at him to envision the crazed gleam he’s bound to have in his eyes. you hate how much your pussy flutters and stretches around his cock, your juices making you gush every time you sink back down onto his lap. 

his hands tweak at your nipples, and he pinches your hardened buds in rhythm with the video. every time your fingertips swirl at your sticky clit, he moves his hands accordingly. pleasure courses in hot flashes across your vision and your cunt, and your hips move lewdly on your own, against your better judgment. 

“feels good, doesn’t it?” he chuckles behind you. his voice sounds high-pitched and crazed, like he’s a schoolboy going crazy over a scrap of attention from his crush. you should be disgusted, you should be scared, and yet with each inch of his long cock that pushes in and out of your squeezing pussy, your mind threatens to go dangerously blank. 

you shake your head weakly. sparks of heat and pleasure light up inside your brain. the dull stretch inside of your walls has your stomach doing backflips, his cockhead prodding deliciously at all of your deepest parts. “no- not you- you can’t do anything to me-”

he clicks his tongue, and when your head slumps against your chest, trying to retain your sanity by looking away from all the lewd videos of you he’s hoarded, he hisses as if you’ve scorned him. he grabs your face harshly, long and calloused fingers digging into the flesh of your face and neck, and he wrenches your eyes upwards so that you can’t look away from the screen. 

you hate it. your vision blurs when tears glaze over your eyes, but that can’t save you from the video. your legs are spread shamelessly open, your drenched pussy fully out on view as you toy with yourself. your face is twisted into a clear moan, lips parted as you gasp and cry out in pleasure, fingers buried deep inside of your cunt. your juices drool generously out of your clenching hole, and your thighs quiver uncontrollably as you masturbate.

“see? i have all of this and more,” ego murmurs. the glee in his tone is unmistakable. “i know how you like to touch yourself, how you like to be fucked. it’s cute that you think you can hide anything from me. you’re more feisty than you let on, aren’t you?”

he thrusts harshly up into you, his heavy balls slapping up against your clit. you barely bite back a strangled cry, electric sparks springing up inside of your chest. something tight pulls at your core, heat swirling like a slow whirlpool. you grit your teeth, and your breathing grows shallows. the friction of his cock rubbing into your gummy walls feels sinfully good, and his almost inhuman length makes it ridiculously easy for his tip to ghost over all of your sensitive parts.

it’s a lethal combination. his dick is just as long and tall as the rest of him is, not too thick but so long and enough to fill you up perfectly. each pump of his cock into you has you seeing stars, your nerves twitching and collapsing under the mounting pressure inside of your pussy. maybe it’s that, but maybe it’s also all the time he’s spent in the shadows, learning every inch of your body through the illicit videos and streams he’s collected of you, memorizing every quirk, every kink you have, making sure he knows by heart the best way to get you to crumble under his touch.

he was a feral beast that had been lying in wait, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. all you needed to do was to let your guard down for a split second, and he took full advantage of it to expose every single one of your weaknesses.

“don’t your worry. i’ll prove to you that i mean everything i say. there’s nothing i hate more than someone that can’t live up to their bragging. results… results are the only things that matter in this world—,” his sick laughter snaps you back out of your grief, “—even if that means making you cum until you’re a fucked out mess.”

he grips at your thighs, spreading your legs open a bit further in his lap so he can fuck his cock even deeper into you. your head feels heavy, a loaded scream locked in your throat when his tip starts fucking into your deep spots. you swear he’s hitting at your cervix, his cockhead trying to pry the entrance to your womb open so he can defile you thoroughly. you wouldn’t put it past him; ego was never the kind of guy to be satisfied with only doing the job halfway. it was always all or nothing with him.

pleasure consumes you from the inside out, his length stretching you out obscenely. your tight walls were massaging him so expertly, and ego can almost delude himself into believing that your cunt was made just to fit around his dick. you were made for him, made to be his perfect mate, and all the times he spent pleasuring himself to the illicit videos he took of you couldn’t even come close to actually getting his paws all over you.

“right here, isn’t it?” he thrusts up harshly into you, and you jerk back against his chest when heat slams down onto your skin. he’s abusing your g-spot, relentlessly bullying your sweet spots. helpess cries escape from you unwillingly as he fucks into you at his pace, his thrusts too sharp and too quick for you to relax into it, but your brain eagerly soaks up the friction. your cunt is begging for cock, wanting the addictive feeling of being filled up disrespectfully like you were just some loose toy, keeping you at constant odds with your shattered rationale. 

ego giggles in your ear, and you know his words are right. he does genuinely have you struggling futilely in the palm of his hand. you’re overwhelmed by all of the sensations around you: the haunting image of your fingers stuffed in your pussy flickering behind your eyes like a mocking vision. your hole was unknowingly milking him over and over, the shame and embarrassment of having to watch yourself fingering yourself while getting fucked making your pussy fall victim to all of the confusing pleasures.

“i can feel you getting tighter and tighter. i’m making you feel good,” he mocks you. his hands keep squeezing at your boobs, mesmerized by the soft flesh of your chest. his balls slap up against your skin, just waiting to spill his seed into your pussy and make you his forever. he sounds so pleased with himself. “you love to act like you’re all high and mighty, but we’re the same, you and i. it’s why i think you’re perfect for me. you’re just as dirty, just as much of a freak, and it’s my job to make sure you know that.”

tightness flares in your gut as if it’s mocking you. you don’t want to cum, don’t want to break that final boundary, don’t want to admit to yourself that you’re fully getting off of being manhandled and disgraced like this. but your body was never yours this entire time, and whatever madness possesses you right now only cares about the long dick sliding in and out of you.

“are you gonna cum? you’re gonna cum, aren’t you? filthy girl.” he twists your nipples harshly as if to emphasize his last few words. you feel so heavy and so weak all at once, broken down bit by bit and torn apart like a sheet of paper. how could you even dream of fighting back? you grit your teeth, not wanting to think about the frothy ring of ivory forming at the base of his cock, where your entrance is enticingly stretched out. “cumming from having a guy like me defile you… cumming from getting fucked while i play a video of you playing with yourself… filthy, filthy girl.”

tears had dotted over your vision a long time ago, and this was already a battle for you to lose the moment you got roped into his trap. your pride grips at your mind one last time, and you flex your thighs, wishing yourself the strength to forgive yourself when the worst of this would be over. even if intuitively, you knew that this was nothing more than the beginning to a wretched, wicked fall from grace, you wanted to take what little your remaining sanity could afford you.

you muster up the firmest voice you can. “you’re the absolute worst- you’re the scummiest man i know!”the lanky man simply laughs again, unaffected by your hurled insults. “oh, please. you’re just too predictable? you think i don’t know that? you think i wouldn’t consider myself scummy and awful after i’ve filmed you for so long in secret? what a stupid whore you are. it’s a good thing you have that pretty body of yours. otherwise, you’d really be nothing more than an unsalvageable excuse for a human being. naïve, gullible, all too easy for me to take advantage of…”

he pauses for a moment, and he leans in. horror settles in your psyche again when you can feel his hot breath fanning over the curve of your ear, and he presses a sickeningly gentle kiss right behind your ear. 

“and if i’m the scummy one,” he murmurs contemplatively, “what does that make you? you’re the one getting off on it. you say you’re not, but your body doesn’t lie to me. i can feel every little fucking thing that slutty pussy of yours is doing whenever i fuck myself into you.”

your stomach twists, painfully and needily, and your legs shake as his cockhead keeps ramming into your sweet spot. his tip bullies you right where you like it most, and your vision glazes over, threatening to go hazy and leave you at the mercy of this terrible man. you’re gonna cum—you can feel it. you can feel the heat building up inside of your core, the depraved tension just about to break.

you clench your eyes shut and brace yourself. your walls are greedily sucking onto his length, the wet noises of your bodies coming together echoing across the room. your toes curl as the pleasure overtakes your mind, and it feels like a second pulse is forming in your cunt, your body no longer willing to listen to you.

you grit your teeth and throw your head back against ego’s shoulder, much to his delight. “...nngh-!”

your pussy clamps down on his cock, milking him with all it has. it feels like something deep inside your stomach is exploding, and heat grips you all over. your nerves all feel as if they’ve been lit on fire. pleasure floods your brain as your pussy quivers and throbs. you hate that it feels good, a pleasure so blinding that your vision spins and it feels like you’re losing your center of gravity. any lingering strength escapes from your body as you shamelessly orgasm all over the cock that’s stuffed deep inside you, your walls fluttering all around his length and drooling around it as if it's the most delicious thing your cunt has felt. 

even as your high consumes you entirely, ego continues to fuck his hips upwards into you, threatening to break your body in half over his dick. you let out an incoherent cry, thrashing weakly against his frame. “n-nooo… d-don’t…!”

he laughs, his voice raspy and evil. “you came, didn’t you? don’t fucking lie to me. i told you i can feel everything, can’t i? that pretty little pussy of yours came from getting fucked by my cock. and to think you were going on and on about how you hated me that much… you’re not above getting dicked down, are you now? that’s what i thought… you really do look the prettiest when you’ve been fucked out like this.”

you don’t even have it in yourself to fight back against him. his cock weighs heavy inside of you, still thrusting rapidly into you despite the overstimulation that starts to claw at your weary insides. it’s too much; he’s moving too much at his own peace without any consideration as to whether or not you can fully keep up. but you don’t have any remaining fight to do anything to defend yourself, and it’s all you can do to even keep your head upright as he pistons his hips into you as if you’re his personal sex toy.

he twitches dangerously inside you, savoring the newfound tightness of your walls from fucking you straight through your orgasm. you’re sobbing softly, unable to form full thoughts and just crying out, praying that this whole thing will stop soon so you can tend to whatever remnants of your shattered psyche you can salvage. he’s close too: you can feel the way his cock throbs and shudders inside of you as he drags his inches in and out, the way his balls tense up against the curve of your ass, his ragged breathing and his muttered threats of stuffing your cunt up so full with his cum that not even contraception can save you from being marked inside and out by him.

you brace yourself. it should be over once he’s done having his fun with you.

but instead, he pauses. you peel your eyelids open at the sudden stop, and you gasp when he leans forward in the seat he has you trapped in between. he’s still buried deep inside you, his cockhead pressed up dangerously against the entrance to your womb, but he reaches for the controls of his monitor.

you know better than to think he has anything good in mind by reaching for his technology. but ego is faster, smarter, in all ways better at thinking a step ahead of you, and after pressing a button, he quickly traps you in between his long limbs to keep you from moving. you whimper pathetically, your legs spread out to reveal your stretched out cunt being continuously speared on his dick.

“shhhh,” he chuckles, the maniacal gleam in his eyes twinkling with an unmatched madness. horror swirls again inside of your gut when you hear the mechanic whirring of a camera, and your fears are confirmed when the giant camera lens atop his many desktop monitors swings towards the two of you, seemingly focusing straight onto your fucked out, restrained form, getting fucked out helpessly like some scene straight out of a porno.

in another move of faux affection, he kisses the shell of your ear. “letting you get off with only getting creampied is too predictable, don’t you agree? just you wait, my filthy girl… in a few seconds, that camera is going to display everything we’re doing to the entire facility… those hungry, hungry boys are going to see you bouncing up and down on my cock, and they’re going to see every second of me filling up that little hole of yours with my cum.”

you don’t want to accept this ridiculous truth. this has to be a bad dream, a manifestation of your nightmares that you just can’t wake up from, and yet the painful aches at your thighs and inside your pussy tell you otherwise. this is the reality you’re trapped in, and you can’t run away from it.

“you’ll be all mine forever,” ego whispers as the cameras buzz to life, sealing your fate entirely. “i just have to make sure the entire world knows it.”

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la maison.

noel noa x single mother fem reader noa finds himself falling head over heels for the sweet mom next door. warning(s): nsfw, alcohol, dubious consent (drunk sex), single mother reader, named son oc (irrelevant outside of pornmaking plot), creampie, breeding minors do not interact.

recently, noel noa has developed a bit of a problem. 

he had fallen in love with his next-door-neighbor. which, in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t the most unique nor the most world-shattering of issues he could possibly have, but these once trivial feelings he had no time to waste on started taking root in his head, they began to spread like wildfire throughout his daily life.

the pro soccer player was mildly surprised to find out that the young man who had lived next to him in the quaint apartment he called home had moved out while he was playing overseas. noa didn’t think too much of it. he rarely ever grew close with the neighbors around him. he was often out of the house, gone for months to even years at a time playing for whatever country or club summoned him, and when he was home, he preferred spending his time alone rather than getting attached to people who he had nothing in common with.

but the two of you had gotten off on a completely unexpected foot.

“dada!” the squirming toddler in your arms squeals. you nearly drop the bag of groceries you were precariously balancing on your elbow, yelping softly as your son uses all the force he can muster in his tiny body to lurch towards noa. “dada, dada!”

“no, sweetie, that’s not your dad,” you gently remind him, unable to stop the sheepish smile that tugs at your lips. you expertly lean the little boy against your hip while you regain your grip on your groceries, flashing an apologetic smile at noa. “i’m so sorry about that. he has a habit of saying that to every man he sees.”

noa stands practically frozen in his doorframe. he’s seen his fair share of almost blasphemously beautiful women in his life: models, actresses, influencers… but nothing holds a candle to the way his heart thumps in his chest when his eyes land on you. every bit of you screams sweet yet battered to him, your eyes mild and gentle by the tugs of time and your body all covered with loose clothes to make sure your boy could hug right into every little nook and cranny that he pleases. 

a perfect image of motherhood.

his dick throbs in his pants. 

it’s lecherous. he doesn’t even know your name, and he’s getting turned on. hell, you might even be married, yet he’s lusting after you. 

“it’s alright. i know how kids are,” he lies. he actually doesn’t know how kids are, but it’s enough to get you to laugh again. “do you live near here? i don’t think i’ve seen you around.”

“ah! i do.” you lift a hand to point at the door right next to his while your son tugs at your clothes impatiently. he keeps mumbling dada, dada in that gurgling voice of his, looking up at you and then stealing glances at noa. “we moved in fairly recently. i didn’t think we’d have a neighbor, because i thought the next door apartment was empty.”

his heart skips a beat, and noa coughs to clear his throat. “i see. my job requires me to be overseas a lot, so i’m out of the house often. i suppose, that makes us next-door-neighbors then. my name is noel noa. it’s lovely to meet you.”

he half-expects you to gasp and run off upon hearing his name, but instead your smile widens. “it’s lovely to meet you as well. my name is (y/n). this naughty little elf right here is honoré. do you wanna say hi to mr. noa, sweetie?”

you keep cooing at the boy, while noa breathes a sigh of relief. so you don’t recognize him to be a pro player. in some ways he prefers that. he wouldn’t want to scare you away. his mind races when he thinks about how he’s now next door to who he believes is the most fuckable woman on earth. 

“alright, it was a joy meeting you. i’ll see you around then, mr. noa?” you offer. 

‘noel is fine.’ noa nods, mumbling an agreement before you wave and disappear into your suite, leaving him dumbfounded in his doorframe. what was he even leaving the house for? he doesn’t remember anymore.

but god. temptation had fallen straight into his lap, and if the arousal churning deep in his gut told him anything, it was that his life was going to be trouble from now on.

…

…

…

noel noa has also come across a stroke of luck. his manager on the other end of the phone sighs and tells him that the next season has been postponed for a few months, mumbling on about some logistics issues between the professional leagues regarding budgeting and some new stadium being built. noa couldn’t care less: his job was to play soccer, and that was final.

the bottom line was clear. he wouldn’t be flying out and disappearing again, and for a few months, he was free to do as he wanted so long as he kept himself in tip-top shape and maintained his usual training.

a guilty part of him celebrates. it means he gets to stay longer with you, right next doors. he’s been running into you more often, and you’re always quick to offer up a small greeting and make small talk with him when time allows. noa tries so, so hard to be a good man and genuinely get to know you as a good neighbor should, rather than to look at you and be driven half-insane by how much he wishes he could drag you to his suite and fuck you on his bed. 

honoré never fails to happily scream out “dada!” at noa when he sees the man, and you always correct your son with a stern voice. part of noa wants you to stop correcting him, his inner lust-demon celebrating slightly at the fact that your son is ready to accept him as his father. noa had been hesitant on full-on courting you, or at least, what he considered courting (lavinho never failed to make fun of him for having “the flirtation skills of a 13th century monk!”), having assumed that you had a husband.

but he notices the lack of a wedding band around your ring finger. could it be that you didn’t have a husband, after all?

not that it matters. noa knows he shouldn’t let himself daydream. he barely knows you, and the very least he can do is show you a modicum of respect rather than treating you like some hunk of hot meat on the dating market. 

it’s dark outside when noa sits down in his bed, unwinding by himself after a long day of analyzing previous games and practicing by himself out in one of the nearby training fields. he hasn’t seen you all day, but he knows you’re home because he stole a peek at your apartment window while heading in. the lights are on, and presumably, you’re inside. it isn’t safe for a woman and a little child to be out and about when it’s dark, and noa wonders if he should offer to escort you if you ever need to go out. 

no. he shouldn’t overstep. he really shouldn’t.

but what really throws him for a loop is what he hears through the thin apartment walls. at first he thought it was his phone, having auto-started a video, but nothing in his house could be capable of making that noise. noa sits still on his bed and cranes his ears, and then realization settles like cold snow on his body.

you’re singing. your voice is hushed, loving, and every now and then, noa makes out the whiny cries of a little boy.

he pauses. 

dear lord. are you singing your son to sleep?

noa grits his teeth and stifles a groan when a rush of blood floods his groin, and his pants immediately start tightening up. he’s used up all of his self-restraint to not feel this way around you, yet the thought of you, in such domestic bliss with your toddler, turns him ridiculously on. his cock fucking hurts from how hard it is, pressing up angrily against his pants and demanding that he do something about it. his stomach throbs and swirls with need, with the desire to fuck something until he’s satisfied.

his hand absentmindedly wanders to the waistband of his pants, and he guides his dick so that it springs free from its restrictive confines. noa doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard before in his life—his cock slaps up against his stomach, and the irritated tip is already drooling greedily. noa hisses quietly when the cold air rushes against his swollen organ, and he carefully wraps his hand around his dick.

you continue your singing.

noa wonders how you must look. he wonders if your sweet hair is damp from a shower, or if you’re getting ready to step into the bath once you put your son to sleep. he wishes he could bury his face in your hair and lewdly inhale, and he begins to slowly stroke his cock at the thought of your features.

maybe you’d hold your son to your chest. blood swells south at the thought of your breasts. the sloping curve that you always hid behind conservative clothes. noa isn’t sure if he wants to sweetly coax you out of them, getting you to shyly bare yourself for him, or if he wants to rip them off of you like an animal and savor the way you squeal and try to cover yourself up.

he wants to grope your tits. your gorgeous tits, made to hold a little boy close to your heart, once filled with milk to feed your son, all swollen and easily filling up his cupped hands. noa barely holds back a moan as he fists himself while daydreaming about your breasts. 

he’d ghost his fingertips over your puffy nipples. he’d hear you cry out, sobbing out a “i-i’m sensitive there, noel-” while he teases them. he’d tug on them too, after a while, feeling your cunt grow wetter and wetter while he has his way with your body. he’d keep on circling his fingers all over your supple breasts, the dainty signs of motherhood filling out and fueling his own libido.

his cock twitches in his fist. he’s leaking pre-cum like a broken faucet. just the mental image of your fat tits has him acting this way, and noa doesn’t know what to do with himself. his balls tighten and contract, and your singsongy filling his ears overwhelms with lust.

he wants to fuck you. he wants to fuck you so bad. his length is fuming at him for not being buried into your delicate body. noa wants to fuck into you anywhere he can get. 

your smaller hands, struggling to fully wrap your fingers around his thick cock. or your mouth, that canary-like voice of yours being put to good use by choking and slobbering all over him. or even your tits that he had been drooling over, slapping his cockhead over your sensitive nipples until you’re squirming and scrunching your face up the way he likes it. your plush thighs wouldn’t be too bad too, hearing your breath hitch and hike up an octave whenever his tip catches on your throbbing clit.

‘fuck- fucking hell, fuck, fuck…!’ he grits his teeth as his hands speed up, fucking against his cock as if he were a bull in heat. he hasn’t even had the opportunity to fantasize about your gummy pussy yet, and he’s already this close. 

he’s too preoccupied taking his time fucking you with his eyes in his mind, stroking fervently to the sound of your muffled voice. he wants to cum, he wants to cum so bad, he wants to take all of his pent-up frustration and make it real and tangible that you’re the one who drove him to this ridiculous state.

he swears he’s going to fuck you. he swears he’s going to fuck his cock into you until your body bends and breaks to him, until you turn into a fucked-out shell of the sweetheart that lives next door. he’s going to get you fucking hooked on his cock so that you’re drooling and chasing after sex with as much as he’s going crazy for you. 

horribly wet shlick-shlick noises echo around his bedroom as he thrusts himself all over his hand. his stomach twists violently, and his heavy balls contract painfully before noa cums all over himself.

‘shit. shit…!’

he grits his teeth and shuts his eyes, forcing down any noises out of fear that you might hear. the rush almost breaks him. ropes of heady cum splash all over his chest and abs, instantly drenching and burning into his skin. he strokes himself through his orgasm, the coils in his gut twisting against themselves, unfurling in and out as pure pleasure streaks through his body. god, this was so wrong of him to do, but noa would be fucking damned if he said he ever came this hard before.

his cock hangs from the pricks of overstimulation as he continues to stroke himself, coaxing out every second of his orgasm as he possibly could. shame immediately floods his body like ice water when his foggy mind clears bit-by-bit, yet he can’t bring himself to jump to his feet and start cleaning up.

noa sits defeatedly in his bed. his chest heaves as he catches his breath, wishing his cum was streaked all over you rather than his own body, and he swallows thickly. he feels horrendously guilty, yet in a twist of ironic fate, your voice keeps trickling through the thin walls.

noa doesn’t even have time to fully let the guilt hit before his dick is swelling up in his fist again. 

‘one more round. just one more round,’ he bargains with himself, ‘just until you stop singing lullabies to your son.’

…

…

…

“i’m so sorry, noel,” you laugh awkwardly. “i really hope i’m not bothering you.”

“it’s no problem at all, really. this is what neighbors are for.”

you stand a few paces in front of him, and the exhausted smile on your face makes noa’s heart speed up dangerously. honoré is fast asleep on your back, strapped to you with a baby harness. in noa’s hands is a stubborn jar of sauce, which, according to you, absolutely refused to open no matter what you did or how hard you had tried to wrench the lid open.

noa firmly grips the lid, and with a small grunt, he easily pops the jar lid open. your eyes widen in awe as he flexes his muscles subtly, a few of the veins in his toned arms becoming visible. he notices you staring at him, and he gently screws the lid back on before handing it back to you.

“thank you so much!” you beam. “it stressed me out so much that i couldn’t get it open. silly of me to think that when i have you right here. classic case of mom brain.”

noa thinks he’s going to stop breathing. you’re beaming at him in such a lighthearted manner, and your words bring his brain to full halt for a split second. he manages a lukewarm smile, and he’s getting ready to wave you off and let you scurry back into your apartment complex before you pause.

“you know… if you aren’t that busy tonight, would you like to come over for dinner? i’m in the middle of cooking right now—well, duh—and i feel like it wouldn’t hurt to make friends with the person living right next door,” you offer up innocently. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to! i completely get it-”

“-i’d love to. when would you like me over?” noa doesn’t even need to consider his options. “should i dress up?”

“dress up?” you gasp. “you don’t need to do anything fancy like that! it’ll just be a nice home cooked meal, maybe a little wine, just as a sign of goodwill. i’ll still need about… let’s say an hour? that way i can clean up a little too… the petit rascal here has a knack for getting into everything.”

“an hour sounds good to me. thank you for the invitation. i’ll look forward to it,” he responds plainly. his thoughts are going a million miles per hour. 

dinner. at your place. with you. just you and him. 

lady luck must be on his side. not even playing in the world cup could compare to the amount of anxiety and anticipation bubbling up inside of him. you flash him a thumbs-up, unaware of the wrench you had thrown into his nearly nonexistent courtship plans. he stands a bit dumbfounded in the doorframe (not too dissimilar when he first met you) when you scoot back into your place, most likely jumping straight back to work in order to prep food and spruce up your home to take him as a guest.

an hour. noa decides that it’s enough time for him to groom himself a bit too. jump in the shower, douse himself with a nice perfume, pick out a casual yet still suave outfit. if time allows, he’d even run down to a nearby store to buy a bouquet of flowers. a nice little thank you present for the meal, but undoubtedly enough of an ambiguous gift to give it a slight romantic tinge.

noa was going to milk this opportunity. you had thrown him the perfect chance, and noa knew that once he fixated on something, he would see it through.

to his success, all things willing.

…

…

…

everything about your house suited you. your apartment complex wasn’t decorated too lavishly, yet it wasn’t barebones either. noa smiles when he sees all the pictures of your son you have framed against the walls, and your shelves are stuffed with picture books and other memorabilia of the toddler.

you had expertly put honoré to bed before noa had came around, and when he knocked on your door an hour later, you had buried your face in your hands and laughed like a schoolgirl that had been confessed to when he presented you with a bouquet of beautifully prepared calla lilies.

“you shouldn’t have!” you had smacked his arm playfully, but noa felt his chest swell with pride when you rifled through your closet to find a makeshift vase to place the flowers in. 

dinner had been delightful. noa had eagerly wolfed down whatever food you served him, and you were more than happy to prattle on to him about how honoré had recently developed an affinity for blueberries and that you were debating between buying him legos or a toy truck.

of course, the wine flowed generously throughout too. you had admitted that you had saved the red wine for a long time, never having a reason to drink it since your hands were full with a baby and not really wanting to crack a whole bottle open just for yourself. noa could tell you were enjoying the drink, swirling the wine glass around rhythmically as the drink slowly stained your plump lips a deep shade of maroon.

how lovely. noa wondered if it would smear if he were to kiss you.

letting you chatter on without stopping you let him extrapolate a lot that he wouldn’t have known otherwise. it didn’t take too many sips to get you a little tipsy, and with a few questions to ease you up, you were practically an open book.

you had gotten pregnant with your son a few years back, and when you approached honoré’s dad with the news, the sleazebag had completely vanished from your life. as awful as it sounds, noa celebrates inwardly when he hears that you’re single. you admitted that you were lucky enough to have good friends and a somewhat stable support system who took care of you through your pregnancy, and you had honoré without too many complications. but one thing led to another, and you ended up moving here.

“i work remotely,” you murmur, stealing another mouthful of red wine. “it’s… not much, but it’s enough to provide for me and my little boy. i get to pamper him a fair amount, and working from home means that i don’t need to worry about a babysitter! it won’t be too long until i can send him to school, and at that point, i can probably look for a better paying job that i can commute to.”

“i see. if i’m ever around, i wouldn’t mind looking after honoré. you already have a lot on your plate, and if there’s anything i can do to ease the load…,” noa trails off. you sigh dreamily, shaking your head.

“oh, i couldn’t ask you to do that. but i really appreciate the offer.” you glance towards the nursery. “honoré has taken a liking to you though. he gets so excited whenever he sees you!”

the tension between you two is electric. noa feels like his heart is about to give out on him, and if the tension mounting in his stomach tells him anything, it’s that he should be thankful for having the foresight to wear loose pants. your house smells like you: sweet, light, a perfect aphrodisiac for the starved man.

this is the closest he’s ever been to you, the longest he’s ever talked to you. you keep batting your eyelashes at him, looking up at him with such pretty, tipsy eyes. maybe it’s the alcohol talking for the both of you, but noa finds it hard to even swallow. he sips tentatively at his own wine glass. his mouth keeps drying up, and he’s thankful that you’re so good at filling up his silence with your own little chit chat. 

“if you don’t mind me…,” you start. you peek at him, and he stares back at you with his sharp golden eyes. “what do you do for a living, noel?”

“me…?” panic stabs at him for a moment. 

should he be honest with you? you didn’t recognize his name when he introduced himself, so it was clear that you had no idea that the man right next to you was quite literally the world’s best striker. would that change the way you viewed him? would you be scared? repulsed? would you talk to him again if you knew?

“sorry-,” you’re quick to apologize. “that was too much of me. you really don’t have to answer me. that was entirely my bad.”

“no, i don’t mind.” he owes you that much. you had been nothing but kind and welcoming towards him, and all he did in return was go insane with desire. the very least he could do was come clean about who he truly was.

he shifts in his seat, and noa braces himself for the worst. “i’m a professional soccer player.”

you blink at him. “r-really? wait, that’s kinda cool! do you play for a local league or something?”

“i play as a striker for bastard munchen. it’s a german team. they’re one of europe’s most prestigious leagues, and they’ve sent players to the world cup.” his grip on his wineglass tightens just a tad bit. “i’ve played in the world cup.”

your jaw drops. “oh my god. you’re not joking with me, are you?”

he risks meeting your eyes. “do i look like the kind of man to joke around?”

you cover your mouth with your hand, unable to look him in the face. “oh my god… ohhhh my god…! i’m so sorry! i’ve been referring to you so casually, and- and-”

he raises a hand, and he shushes you. “what are you apologizing for? you’ve done nothing wrong. you’ve always treated me kindly. i don’t see why knowing my job would change anything between us. we’re still neighbors. and at this point, we’re friends as well, I'd hope.”

he sees you swallow back a sigh, and you take a deep breath and nod. “right. yes. this doesn’t change anything… it’s still a lot to just- to just take in, you know?”

“you take the time you need. and if interacting with me becomes too much, then i understand. the last thing i’d like to do is make you uncomfortable.” his heart wrenches painfully inside of his chest at the thought of no longer being able to talk to you. but you’d find out sooner or later, and if his cover was going to be blown, noa would prefer doing it on his own terms. 

“can i ask you another question then?” you ask with your mousy voice.

“go ahead.” 

“why do you live here then?” you hiccup. “shouldn’t a super talented soccer player like you live in a big mansion?”

“i could. but i don’t particularly want to.” noa notices that you’re working up the courage to look him in the face again. his stomach twists once more, the sight of your pretty face all conflicted throwing his brain into turmoil again. he clenches his fist, digging his nails into his palm to bring himself back to the same plane of reality that you were on. “i’ve never been interested in a flashy life. i prefer living quietly and doing as i’m told.”

“that does sound like you,” you hum in agreement. “well, as surprising as it is, i’m glad to have someone like you for my neighbor. and i promise i’m not saying it just because i know that you’re a professional athlete now!”

you giggle brightly, your lips curving to match the rim of your wine glass. you down the remaining liquid, giving a soft smack of your mouth to fully savor the notes. noa clenches his jaw visibly, and his nails threaten to break the thick skin of his palms.

you’re tempting him. you’re driving him insane. your lips are dyed and pretty, and noa has been staring at them all evening. his throat feels dry and heavy, and he forces the arousal pooling in his crotch to calm down.

he can’t be like this right in front of you. it was one thing to act like an immoral, debauched man in private, but it was another to be unable to control himself in front of you. he was better than this. he knew he was.

but the heart wants what it wants. and there was nothing more that noa wanted than to force you to your knees, to whip his hardening cock out of his pants and smack your slutty wine-stained lips with the tip. he’d force you to open up and stretch that cute mouth of yours around his girth, watch you struggle to take him into your mouth and whimper all over his cock. knowing you, you’d beg him to be gentle with you, to be quiet so that you wouldn’t wake up the slumbering angel in the next room over, and noa would have to fight every animalistic instinct in him to not fuck you until you’d be wailing the house down.

“is everything alright, noel?” you break him out of your thoughts. he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts before he faces you. he can’t stop the heat from flooding his face, but he’s quick to decide that he’d simply blame it on the alcohol.

he couldn’t keep doing this forever. something or other would give, and the last thing noa would want would be to do some unforgivable or stupid. it was torture, to have his body say one thing and his mind another, especially when you were quite literally within arm’s reach.

“i’m alright. you don’t need to worry about me. i can take care of myself,” he promises. you lean in closer, enough so that noa can feel your warm breath trickling across his neck. his heart threatens to stop, and he looks at you with hesitant eyes. 

“are you sure?” your hand lands on his thigh, squeezing him gently.

oh. so that’s how things were going to be. what a goddamn minx you were, doing something like this with such disgustingly innocent intent. 

“yes. i’m fine,” he presses his lips into a thin line. “would you mind passing me the wine bottle? i’ll pour us another glass, if you don’t mind…”

…

…

…

your mouth tastes delicious, like fresh wine and everything he had wanted to do to you since forever. your face is flushed, and your eyes are hazy, barely meeting his as you struggle to keep up with him through your drunken state.

“n-noel-!” you squeak out. his heavy body weighs you down, keeping you trapped between him and your squeaky bed. things are a blur, even for him. 

one moment he’s pouring you more wine, and the next, the two of you are stumbling into your room, where he tosses you down onto the mattress like you’re a ragdoll.

“tell me you want it.” he rolls his clothed hips into yours, and you recoil into the bed with a choked whine. the sound goes straight to his dick. god, how long had he wanted to hear that? to hear the woman he had coveted for so long moaning underneath him?

you shake against his larger form. “w-want it- i want it, noel-“

“you want me to fuck you? you want your next-door-neighbor to fuck you?” he whispers. you shut your eyes as he kisses up your neck, his hands gripping your waist as his lips capture your earlobe. he sucks, his tongue lapping at your soft skin.

his imagination has nothing on how you actually feel in his hands. even through your clothes, he has no issues palming at your figure. you breathe out his name as his palms feel your curves, his fingertips dancing with the hem of your clothes.

you nod wantonly, not once fighting off his advances. “yes! yes, i want it- want you to fuck me- want my next-door-neighbor to have sex with me!”

“good girl,” he exhales. your breathing shallows as he coaxes your shirt over your chest and head, and you shudder as his eyes land all over your stomach and breasts.

your bra struggles to hold onto your chest, your full breasts pooling over the edge. you yelp when he yanks at your bra, snapping it off of you and letting your chest tumble out fully in front of him.

you instinctively try to cover yourself up with your arms, and noa grabs your wrists and wrenches them off of your chest. you mewl when the air nips at your nipples, causing them to perk up slightly.

“don’t you dare think about hiding yourself from me,” noa whispers. “you have no way of getting yourself out of this.”

you rub your thighs together, your cunt throbbing. when was the last time you had done this? you hadn’t had sex in years, not when you had your hands full with a baby and keeping yourself afloat. you were a mom, for fuck’s sake, with a whole baby to watch out for, yet here you were, pinned down underneath noel noa while he grinded his boner into your thighs.

his hands latch onto your chest, and his palms grope at your fat tits slowly. you moan out breathlessly when his calloused palms tease at your nipples, sending a jolt of arousal into your stomach. a wet patch forms in your panties, horribly turned on just from having your boobs squeezed a few times.

“god, you have no clue what your body does to me,” noa rasps. “do you have any idea how much i’ve dreamt about this? how much i wanted to touch those slutty tits of yours? look at you—your body was practically made to be fucked.”

your core twists painfully, and his fingertips pinch tentatively at your nipples.

“ah-! ahhh- noel-,” you buck your hips unconsciously, arching your back as he tugs at your chest. it stings, but it feels so good. even with the wine muddying your thoughts, your body responds to every little bit of attention noel showers onto you. you didn’t know you had it in you to be this lewd or to be this responsive. 

you want more. it had been far too long since anyone showed you any love like this.

he slaps your tits before bringing his hands down to your pants, expertly undoing the zipper and hooking his fingers around the waistline. you let him wiggle your clothes over your hips and legs, leaving you almost entirely naked save for your drenched panties. it feels so terribly lewd, to lay there all bare for a man, even if you two haven’t technically done anything.

his hands squeeze possessively at your thighs. “i wanted to fuck you ever since the first time i saw you. ever since you told me your name, since your son started calling me dad. that wouldn’t be so bad, would it? if i became his dad?”

your chest tightens, and you bite back another lewd moan. noa ducks his head down and nips at your thighs with his teeth, and you flinch into his chest. 

“you said it yourself. your little boy loves me,” noa murmurs. his tongue laps over his teeth marks, and you suck in a breath. your pussy twitches, clenching around nothing. your body wants more, wants to feel more noa more, wants him to take over your body and make you his. “nothing would make him happier than his beloved mommy to have a dad by her side.”

his mouth heads upwards, and he uses his strong hands to pry your shaking legs apart. you whimper, already feeling so exposed to the bigger man despite still having your panties on. he leans back, but his fingers ghost over your crotch. two fingers press up right against your pussy, and he rubs them up and down your covered slit. 

his fingertips are damp. you’re obscenely wet, and watching you struggle to control yourself has noa’s cock straining for its life in his pants.

“or even better,” noa grabs at the waistband of your panties, “daddy fucks mommy pregnant and gives him a younger sibling that he can dote on.”

you throw your head back against your pillow. your mind spins with arousal and alcohol, and noa slips your panties off without any resistance. a strand of slick sticks to the crotch of your underwear, and noa’s finally rewarded with the sight of your bare pussy. he can see your hole fluttering and twitching on itself, desperate to be stuffed and stretched out with something.

god. your body is so attractive to him. he’s never wanted to fuck someone more in his life. with your full hips and soft stomach, motherhood has mellowed out and accentuated you into a woman noa just couldn’t resist.

he thinks he’s going to stop breathing. 

“d-don’t look too hard-,” you stammer out. your body heats up and flushed at how intently noa’s staring at your defenseless cunt, knowing that your body’s begging to be penetrated and fucked.

“i’ll be so good to you,” noa vows. you’re frozen on the sheets, and noa nearly shreds the clothes off of him. your voice catches in the back of your throat when you see his toned chest and abs, the silhouette of the soccer player resembling more of a greek god than the man you had always known as your neighbor.

he pulls his pants down, and when he shoves his boxers off, you can’t help but gasp “oh!” at how big his cock is. he’s obscenely thick and long, and your pussy is both parts scared and aroused at the sheer size. god—you just know that he would stretch your walls out deliciously. his tip smacks his abs, and prominent veins run all along his length.

“you’re so big…,” you eke out. “it’s been so long since i had sex… i don’t know if it’ll fit.”

“i’ll make it fit.” noa rests his hands on top of your knees. “do you want me to prep you?”

you nod. “yes please…”

he reaches over and grabs your hips, and before you can fully register what’s happening, noa hoists your hips up into the air. you give a loud cry, and the bed creaks underneath you as noa ducks his head. his grip on you is firm, and his fingers press into your hips as he brings your drooling cunt to his mouth.

noa’s tongue circles your throbbing clit. your hands fly up to your pillow, gripping at the plush material. jolts of electricity shoot up your core, and your stomach twists with pleasure. your thighs subconsciously try to shut, but noa curves his hands to keep them spread open.

“nngh…! wait, noel, hold on-,” you sob. you grip your pillow, clamping your teeth shut as noa teased your clit with the tip of his tongue. your hips shake as you grind up into his mouth, each wave of stimulation making your pussy drool and throb for more. “ah- be gentle with me…!”

be gentle with you? dear lord, noa sucking on your clit like a starved man was him being gentle with you. he had jerked himself off countless times fantasizing about having you naked and in his arms like this, and it took everything in him not to break that dripping cunt of yours in half with his dick. his cock twitches and protests when noa ignores his own arousal, too preoccupied in trying to force an orgasm out of you.

you taste so sweet on his tongue. you mewl out his name over and over, and your voice sounds like literal honey to his ears. one of his hands snakes down from your hips, and while noa swirls his tongue around your nub, he circles your pulsing hole with a finger. he could die right there and then, and noa would die a happy man. drowning in your honeyed cunt, losing himself to the tantalizing sensation of pleasuring you like any devoted man would. 

“oh! oh god, noel-” your pussy can’t stop leaking with slick as noa keeps teasing you. he slips a finger in without much resistance, and your walls eagerly latch onto him. noa groans against your cunt when he feels your wall twist and clench around his finger, greedily sucking him in. 

god, noa thinks he’s going to go insane. his cock wants nothing more than to bury itself into your sweet pussy, and feeling you twitch and clamp up on his finger makes his dick grow hungrier. his arousal is almost impossible to ignore, yet noa continues to swallow and lap at your core while he fingers you slowly.

he slides in another finger, thrusting in and out of you carefully. you buck your hips, crying out so prettily for him. noa curls his fingers and presses his fingertips all inside your pussy, and he stays vigilant in looking for that sweet spot that would completely unravel you.

“fuck-! fuck, wait- please, i-i can’t-!” you plead. your pussy tightens up around his knuckles dangerously, and noa fucks his fingers up into the spot that made you clench up and mewl so loudly. you’re already moaning and trembling this much just from being fucked on two fingers and having your clit sucked. noa can’t get enough of the way your body twists and reacts to everything he gives you. 

a third finger prods at your hole, as if to ask if you’re ready. you inhale shakily as noa pushes another knuckle into you. 

“fuck…!” you’re immediately clenching up, and your pussy’s walls are rubbing all against his fingers greedily. you’re nearly in tears, just from being fingered, and noa fights his desire to break you. “it feels so good- you feel so good, noel…!”

he thrusts his fingers into you, and you reel visibly. he can tell from the way your pussy has been twitching and gushing all around him that you’re close, stretched to your limit just from three fingers. he doubles down on flicking his tongue all over your clit: letting you grind your hips down greedily against the broad of his tongue. your body shakes, and you can’t stop sobbing. 

you’re almost there. you both know you’re almost there. noa focuses himself on pleasuring you fully, and he roughly fucks his fingers into you and curls his knuckles into your g-spot without any mercy.

“noel-!”

your cunt squeezes his fingers for dear life, and noa latches himself onto your clit as you nearly wrench yourself out of his grasp. heat shreds your body, and the tightening in your stomach snaps violently as you cum shamelessly all over noa’s hands and mouth. you cry out his name loudly again, your normally gentle voice sounding so lewd and desperate as your slick gushes all over his chin and palm.

“fuck…! cumming- i’m cumming, noel…!” your body twists in his hands, and noa continues to stimulate your cunt until you’re babbling incoherent noises. he pulls his fingers out of you slowly, feeling your pussy try to cling to his knuckles before he lets you down properly onto the bed again. you’re struggling to catch your breath, your wide eyes all hazy and drunken as you suck in shaky breaths.

noa has no issue swallowing down your cum. he sucks your juices off of his fingers, cleaning up his mouth and chin before he scoots closer to you. you let out such a pathetic moan when he spreads your legs out again, your body too pliant and weak to offer any resistance. the sight of your obviously overstimulated and squirt-slicked cunt makes some sick monster in him swell with pride.

he did that. he made you cum.

he grips his long-ignored and fully engorged cock, and he smacks it against your cunt lightly. you flinch, your hole flaring up as he rubs his dick up and down your slick pussy lips. 

“are you doing alright?” noa asks. his hands grab your hips, and your heart flutters as he rubs soothing circles into your skin. you nod weakly.

“yeah- i can do it,” you promise. you glance up at him with such pretty fluttering eyes, remnants of tears clinging to your lashes as you swallow. “i want you in me… i want your cock in me, please…”

“alright. deep breath. relax for me,” he commands. you nod again, and you shakily inhale and try to loosen your muscles up. 

it immediately burns when he slides into you. you grit your teeth, trying your hardest to keep your pussy relaxed as his thick cock invades your pussy and stretches your walls out to its limits. noa grips your hips tightly, and he groans lowly when he feels you clamping up around his dick.

“fucking hell-,” he breathes out. “you’re so fucking tight-”

“t-too big-” hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “oh god, you’re going to break me!”

your pussy sucks him in and rubs all around his cock in a way that makes noa see stars. you’re so soft and tight, clinging and drooling all over his dick while his girth stretches and flexes your walls out. he keeps pushing past the resistance until he bottoms out, his balls resting heavy on top of your ass. you choke and gasp as he pushes your hips back even further, and he hovers over you, keeping you trapped underneath his thick legs.

a mating press. 

“listen to me now,” he says. “i’m going to fuck you pregnant. i’m gonna fuck this pussy of yours till you’re pregnant again, and i’m going to give that little boy of yours a sibling of his own. you’d like that, wouldn’t you? have a baby of our own and form a perfect family…”

your pussy squeezes involuntarily, and even without you saying anything, he knows you’re turned on at the thought of being bred by him. a loud moan bubbles up in your chest as he slides his monstrous cock out of you before roughly slamming his hips down, forcing his entire length back into your tight cunt.

you barely choke back a scream. his cock has filled out every single bit of your hole, leaving you no room to comfortably take him. you swear that his tip prods dangerously at your womb, threatening to force it open so that he can dump as much of his cum into you as he wants.

oh god, you’re fucked. you’re having raw sex with your hot neighbor, and he’s talking about fucking his own child into you.

“god, you’re so fucking tight,” he groans. “can’t believe you had a whole baby with this pussy with how goddamn tight you are-”

you shudder as he thrusts in and out of you. every time he pistons his hips, he doesn’t waste a single movement. none of his thrusts are shallow; each one pumps deep and directly into your womb, clearly with the sole intent of getting you pregnant.

“haven’t had sex with anyone since- since i got pregnant with honoré,” you manage out. “fuck, fuck- you’re going too deep!”

irritation irks him in at the thought of some bastard getting to fuck you first, at the thought of another man getting to fuck that slutty pussy of yours. what kind of madman would even dream of letting you go, let alone throw you out so cruelly into the world? if he could, noa would keep you at home and lavish you with all the attention and love you could ever want. he’d pamper you, treat you like the goddess you are, make sure you know your worth and more. he can imagine it: buying you pretty clothes, taking you out to expensive dinners, spoiling honoré until the boy’s world is flipped upside down by his indulgent stepfather. 

but when noa glances down to see you all spread out and submissive for him, your hole eagerly taking his cock and getting ready to be stuffed with his cum, he can’t help but gloat slightly. he’s the one who has you now, the one who’s going to properly sweep you off your feet, the one who’s going to make you his.

“don’t lose yourself just yet. i know you can take it.” he fucks his dick into you once more, and you moan, unable to stop the arousal coiling up in your core. he wants to make sure you feel it, makes sure you feel every inch and ridge of his cock rubbing against your insides. he doesn’t know when the last time you had dick was, and neither does he particularly care, but he wants your body to know that his dick is the best you’ll ever have. “get used to how it feels. i’m going to make you my wife—gonna give you a family of our own. that’d be nice, yeah? to have someone that can support you? so you’re not all alone with just your son?”

you can’t help but nod, your pussy quivering at the thought. you know you’re not thinking straight, not when wine stains your thoughts and your body’s overrun with lust. but for some reason, thinking about noa wifing you up, taking you to be his cute little housewife while he fucks his kids into you, chasing after honoré and whatever other babies he’s going to put in you, finally having someone kind and reliable to depend on… 

you want it. you want it so bad.

your cunt makes it obvious from how much you’re clenching up around him, unconsciously milking his cock.

“you like that? you like the thought of getting married to me and having my babies?” noa eggs on. 

“don’t tease me like that-,” you protest. you can barely keep up with everything happening around you. his cock keeps stretching you out, rubbing all over your slick walls and sending waves of heat up your core. arousal floods your gut, and all you can care about is how good it feels to have sex, to finally let loose and forget about all the worries in the world, to lose yourself to a man who wants nothing more than to be good to you.

“tell me it feels good. tell me you want it.” noa’s fingers dig into your thighs. your clit throbs, and you bring a hand to your crotch to rub at it frantically. you’re sniffling and sobbing pathetically underneath the pro player, already this cock-drunk and overwhelmed just from having cum on his mouth once. 

“want it-,” you obediently repeat. heat floods your face and neck. he’s so possessive, but it turns you on so much. “want you so bad- want you to fuck me-”

“is that all?” his hips pound into you mercilessly, and you groan. his balls slap against your ass every time he fucks his cock into you, a constant reminder that you’re about to be bred by him. 

“it’s embarrassing to say…” you can’t meet his eyes. noa hums disapprovingly, and dread pools in your chest when he draws his hips back all the way, until just the tip remains buried inside your indecent hole. “what are you doing…?”

you instantly turn to look at him, horror flashing across your face when you choke out, “n-noel, hold on, you can’t-!”

he slams himself all the way into you. you shriek, your core immediately burning at the ruthless stretch. his cock prods at your womb brutally, and a mix of pain and unbridled pleasure rips at your body. you’re instantaneously reduced to a crying mess, unable to form words as noa breaks your pussy. you swear you’re going to break into pieces, body left completely to the man’s mercy. he keeps drawing his hips back like that, his cock reveling in the feeling of being completely enveloped by your welcoming hole.

the room echoes with your cries, the desperate ah- ah- ah-! noises from you spurring him on to keep fucking you like a bull in heat. as much as he loves you, cherishes you, wants to keep you by his side, the sex is animalistic and unforgiving. your body feels bruised and battered as he bullies his length into you over and over again, stretching and molding your insides to adjust to his massively unfair size.

“say it!” noa’s voice doesn’t waver even once. “say it properly, or i’m not stopping until you pass out.”

you open and close your mouth dumbly, your mind too fogged up to think properly. you endeavor and push through, pursing your lips to form the words that noa has wanted to hear since the beginning. “w-wanna have sex with you more! wanna be yours- wanna be your wife-! wanna get m-married to you and- and have your babies!”

“yeah?” the blond man repeats. “you want me to be your husband? you want me to be honoré’s stepdaddy? you want me to father the rest of your kids?”

the dirty talk arouses you in a way you didn’t even realize was possible. you throw your head back, your back fully arched. you’re being so loud, too loud, and while you knew you should be quiet and good for your son’s sake, you can’t help but shamelessly beg for the man on top of you to fold you in half and fuck you pregnant until you’re nothing more than a stupid breeding bitch for your evidently soon-to-be husband. 

“yes…!” you moan wantonly. “i want it all!”

he’s dangerously close. so are you, he can feel that much. you babble on and on about how you want him, how you want him to make you his, how you’ll be anything he wants you to be. what a depraved woman, he muses to himself, so desperate for love that you’d throw yourself at him once he gives you an opportunity to. he thinks it's awfully ironic, knowing that he did the same to you, and he’s glad that he has nothing but relatively good intentions.

minus the fact that he wants to get you pregnant.

his cock throbs and threatens to spill his cum into you. you’re teetering on the edge, aroused beyond your own comprehension by the sex and dirty talk, your sticky fingers playing with your abused clit. his hands reach for your tits, groping your sensitive breasts again.

he can’t wait to see you pregnant. your pretty chest, swollen up with milk for his baby, and your hips full and rounded out. your soft belly is stretched out, and you practically glow with warmth. he knows you’d be a good mother—he knows you’re a good mother. you dote on your son with so much love in your heart, and he knows you’d do anything to make sure that your family stays happy and healthy.

his heart swells. 

“fuck-” he pumps his dick in and out of you at such an inhumanly fast pace. your pussy won’t stop coiling all around him, making sure to milk him for all he’s worth and intoxicating him endlessly. noa knows he hasn’t had that much to drink during dinner, but the sensation of fucking into your warm hole makes him feel like he’s had one sip too many. “gonna cum, love- gonna cum inside you and make you my wife…”

“do it-!” you encourage him. your voice is strained and high-pitched, and your thighs ache with the pressure of having him breeding you in such a demanding position. but he’s so deep in you, touching you in places you didn’t even know was possible, and the pleasure makes your mind go blank. “cum in me- please, cum inside me, noel!”

how can he refuse? you’re begging for him, asking him with such doe-like eyes and offering up that tempting body of yours. 

it’s his turn to beg. “stay with me.”

you let out a loud squeal as he draws his heavy hips back one last time. your hole contracts around him, your desperate walls trying to drag him back inside, and he slams down into you as far as he can go. he knows he’s going to be hooked on your pussy, hooked on your body and the way it feels like you were made just to take his cock and get pregnant with his babies, hooked on all the ways he’s craved you with such an insatiable appetite since he’s laid eyes on you. 

he lets himself go. with all the lust in his heart, enough to rival the sheer amount of love he has for his sweet, sweet neighbor.

he’s never cum this hard before. his balls tighten up painfully as he empties himself out inside of your cunt, and you moan out his name when you feel him pulsing inside your core. noa clenches his jaw, gritting his teeth together as the rush of his orgasm possesses him. you’re too much for him: too loving, too ready, too perfect, and noa would rather be damned than let you escape him.

it hurts to thrust into you so quickly, not having fully even finished riding out his climax, but he’s determined to shove as much of his semen into you. he needs you full, needs to know that you’ll be knocked up with his baby, and he uses his cock to force ropes of his hot cum into every inch of your womb.

your core tightens and twitches when you feel him cumming inside of you, all of the tension building up coming to a standstill in that moment. “fuck! fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck- noel, i’m- i’m cumming- i’m cumming, i’m gonna cum- noel…!”

your cunt wrings his cock, gripping onto his length furiously. noa has to double down, brace himself for the way your body refuses to let him go, as you cry loudly and cum all over him. your pussy keeps contracting and squeezing, your second orgasm immediately setting your nerves on fire and taking complete control of your senses. he can tell you’re instantly overwhelmed, your breathing turning irregular as you pant out for air, a slick ring of ivory froth forming at the base of his cock.

“s-so good-,” you slur out, your words melting into one another. you shudder when noa pulls out of you, whining in slight protest at the sudden feeling of emptiness overtaking your warm pussy. a strand of milky cum follows his dick before breaking, and like a broken dam, a rivulet of semen leaks out of you and drips down. it follows the curve of your ass before beading momentarily on the sheets, creating a pool of cum underneath you.

even noa didn’t realize he came that much. he blames it entirely on his intent to breed you.

he sits down wordlessly by your side, the two of you laying in the darkness in silence as you catch your breaths. noa debates getting up to fetch you some water or a towel, but before he can, you grab at his wrist and coax him back to your side.

“you asked me to stay with you,” you whisper. you sound so hushed, but noa would have to be an idiot not to pick up on the wavering tinges of longing in your words. “don’t go just yet… stay with me.”

he wipes some of the sweat off of your forehead, tucking some loose hairs behind your ear. he ducks his head down to kiss your face, just like how proper lovers would. you smile so brightly, despite your body still aching from the number noa just did to you. you’re an angel sent from heaven, this much noa is sure of. he has never been one to believe that sincerely in abstract concepts like soulmates and fate, but when he cups your face and rubs his thumb over the apples of your cheeks or your eyelids, he gets it. he truly does. 

“don’t worry.” his voice is calming, and despite the fatigue ebbing over you in relentless waves, you can hear him loud and clear. “i’m not going anywhere.”

…

…

…

you’re fast asleep. noa’s aware that he should be asleep too, the clock ticking into the long and lonely stretches of early morning as he keeps you tucked into his chest. a firm arm holds you close to his heart, and your body slots against his like you were made to be held by him.

a missed call notification from his manager rests on his homescreen. he doesn’t want to pick up just yet. he doesn’t want to return to the real world, to his responsibilities, to be away from you.

a text message from his manager pops up, and he scans the preview with his usual eagle-like eyes.

‘sorry for calling you so late, noa. hope you’ve been doing well,’ his manager writes. ‘unfortunately, it looks like you’re going to have the next few months off as well. some material shipments got delayed, and without it, the stadium won’t be completed for a little while longer. your instructions are the same as last time: keep up with your exercise regime and do as your club tells you. other than that, you’re free to do as you want.’

relief floods noa’s weary body. he turns his phone over, blocking off the light before he pulls you to his chest even tighter. burying his nose into your hair, he holds you against his beating heart. thump-thump, your heartbeats syncopate to one another, and noa already knows he’s going to spend his precious time dedicating himself wholly to you and your happiness.

what he doesn’t see is the next text from his manager. not that it matters, noa has everything he could possibly want right now.

‘you sure are one lucky man,’ it reads. ‘make sure to take some time for yourself and relax, away from sports. breaks like these are rare.'

'you know what they say, noa. there really is no place like home.’

[pparadiselost]

happy valentine’s day!! i’ve been looking forward to introducing my selfship for a very long time!! aren’t we the cutest??

i hope everyone has a wonderful holiday today, and to everyone that has supported me on this blog, i love you all so so dearly!! ⸜(*ˊᗜˋ*)⸝

cr: dumplings0ups (ig)

[pparadiselost]

one year already... uwah...

[pparadiselost]

Day 4: Semi-public sex

HELLO WHO GAVE HIM THE RIGHT TO BE A CUTE LITTLE THING THAT LOOKS LIKE A GRUMPY CAT?

SOMEONE TAKE GOOGLE DOCS AND TUMBLR AWAY FROM ME PLEASE.

cw: Time-skip Lev, f!reader, model!lev and photographer!reader, secret relationshi, no protection, translator used at Russian pet names

[Translation:

moya lyubov': my love

moya boginya: my goddess]

He's a model.

He's a public figure.

He should care about what they say if they were to find out. Superiors, colleagues, media, even his own sister.

Then, why? Why is he putting this much effort in breaking you, his photographer and, for now, secret girlfriend in his foyer?

"Lev, they'll hear us." You try to reason with him as he fucks you with your back against the make-up table where he's gonna be made up in less than twenty minutes and your ankle on his shoulder.

He mumbles something in Russian before leaning down to kiss your lips.

"We have time, moya lyubov'." He hisses when you tighten on his cock. "You like it when I call you Russian names, don't ya'? I could be calling you a whore and you'll still like it." He whispers before nibbling on your earlobe.

He's right. Although you've been having Russian lessons to surprise him one day, you still can't get the alphabet right.

You arch your back as your hands go to his pale back, scratching it as you moan on the crook of his neck.

You both come at the same time, with him swallowing your moans in a deep and loving kiss.

"... would you call me a whore in Russian?" You ask curiously, making him chuckle and shake his head.

"I could never call you a whore, moya boginya." He says, kissing the tip of your nose.

[...]

"It's really hot in here! Don't you think, Lev?" Alisa whines frustrated as she fans herself with a magazine.

As always, you take photos of the backstage as they get ready. In silence and in your own world.

You look at the camera screen as you focus the lense on Lev's face since he was the star of this photoshoot.

He notices you. He looks at the camera as a professional… as if nothing happened minutes ago in the same table he's sitting in front of.

You look at the photo. Almost ethereal in your eyes and an almost not-needing editing photo in your professional view.

You'll probably set it as your computer wallpaper when you get home.

[pparadiselost]

WALTZ OF TRANSIENCE .ᐟ┊GENSHIN IMPACT ⟢

── SERIES MASTERLIST ⊹ ‧₊˚ ౨ৎ

꒰ premise ꒱ — a risqué glimpse into the hectic backstage lives, rehearsals and practice sessions of the Yae Dance Academy’s students performing their most prestigious and intensive ballet of the year— the long awaited winter production of Swan Lake.

꒰ content ꒱ — 5wirl / principal dancer!reader. fem!reader. pwp. smut. university!au. ballet!au. reverse harem.

⁞ ‘✎ — vie’s love letter ؛ ଓ vague mentions and rehearsals of swan lake (not that important). not realistic / accurate. ib @//majunju. character cameos. irregular updates. scara is named kunikuzushi.

soundtrack. tchaikovsky : swan lake.

꒰ genshin masterlist. // general masterlist. ꒱

𐙚 ACT I — UNDERSTUDY KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

⌗ uh oh! your partner didn’t show up for practice, that damn kunikuzushi . . . oh well, kazuha’s here in his stead for you.

⊂⊃ content warnings. male lead understudy!kazuha / f!reader. cunnilingus. semi-public, jealous & mirror sex. creampie.

𐙚 ACT II — SECOND MALE LEAD XIAO

⌗ costume try on & adjustments day has come, but your zipper has become stuck! thank god xiao found you . . .

⊂⊃ content warnings. second male lead!xiao / f!reader. wardrobe malfunction. vaginal fingering. dry humping. marking.

𐙚 ACT III — SOLOIST VENTI

⌗ it’s important to stretch after long rehearsals to let your muscles relax, but venti’s hands love to wander . . .

⊂⊃ content warnings. soloist!venti / f!reader. massage. groping. praise. cowgirl. semi-public sex. creampie.

𐙚 ACT IV — ENSEMBLE DANSEUR HEIZOU

⌗ nilou instructs heizou to help you with choreography, and he promises to make sure you remember every single step.

⊂⊃ content warnings. ensemble danseur!heizou / f!reader. orgasm denial. handjob. sensory deprivation (blindfold).

𐙚 ACT V — PRINCIPAL DANCER KUNIKUZUSHI

⌗ you and kunikuzushi just can’t seem to get along off stage and it’s hindering rehearsal! yae thinks you should talk to him, he seems a little stressed about his performance . . .

⊂⊃ content warnings. principal dancer!kunikuzushi / f!reader. rivals trope. roleplay. overstimulation. creampie. erotic humiliation.

reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

© property of thomae 2024. all rights reserved.

[pparadiselost]

𝐕𝐈𝐏𝐬 !!

Also known as my murals list! Users most dear to my heart in alphabetical order with things that remind me of them below <3 pls lmk if I missed you!!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ AALI જ⁀➴ @tteokdoroki

kittens, fluffy coats, warm mittens, fresh laid snow

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ARSON જ⁀➴ @angsty-microwave

neon purple, cat memes, late nights, living to the fullest

⊹ ࣪ ˖ BRIA જ⁀➴ @planetsano

pastel pink, warm being, fluffy clouds, caring world

⊹ ࣪ ˖ CALLIE જ⁀➴ @oh-katsuki

sunset orange, book stores, regency era, cozy dreams

⊹ ࣪ ˖ DEJA જ⁀➴ @dejwrld

rose quartz, puppy dogs, mall trips, extra sugar in tea

⊹ ࣪ ˖ JEN જ⁀➴ @taiphoric

jade stones, headphones, a welcome home, strong soul

⊹ ࣪ ˖ JES જ⁀➴ @animewomensupremacy

dark green, picnic’s under stars, black cat, cassette player

⊹ ࣪ ˖ JUNI જ⁀➴ @junibugs

warm brown, pretty piercings, white shirts, leather covers

⊹ ࣪ ˖ KIERRA જ⁀➴ @sluttsumu

golf skirts, champagne flutes, diamond necklaces, crystal

⊹ ࣪ ˖ KITTY / BUNBUN જ⁀➴ @kenslilove

early 2000s, pink + blue, stuffed animals, stomping in puddles

⊹ ࣪ ˖ LOTTE જ⁀➴ @pparadiselost

white sheets, fancy art, balconies, dancing in the rain

⊹ ࣪ ˖ LUMI જ⁀➴ @koucaine

retro kitchens, old souls, powder flying, laughter and light

⊹ ࣪ ˖ MAC જ⁀➴ @mcdonaldsnumberone

ocean pearls, fish tails, pretty blues, men falling for you

⊹ ࣪ ˖ OAK જ⁀➴ @rinneverse

orange cats, video games, neon lights, fighting for your life

⊹ ࣪ ˖ SORIN જ⁀➴ @todorosie

warm cookies, childhood friends, full hearts, play fights

⊹ ࣪ ˖ STASSIE જ⁀➴ @softwiingz

teddy bears, retro cartoons, comfy couches, pink world

⊹ ࣪ ˖ TALLULAH જ⁀➴ @antizenin

gentle meadow, calm breeze, purple flowers, parasols

⊹ ࣪ ˖ VIE જ⁀➴ @thomae

vintage blue, record stores, matching plushies, warm rain

⊹ ࣪ ˖ YUYU જ⁀➴ @yunymphs

bunnies, princesses and princes, glimmering gems, awake

[pparadiselost]

w would you all potentially be interested in a shiu kong fic...

[pparadiselost]

i’ve seen a couple of writers on this app making long, detailed posts explaining why likes don’t do shit for the tumblr algorithm and how reblogs are much needed when posting and most of them were met with “omg why are you complaining about your notes? you get so many, you have no reason to complain 🙄”

and i just want to say that however holds that belief is missing the point. the tumblr algorithm works well for replies and reblogs, likes mostly don’t do shit. and not to mention: reblogs are so fun???? seeing feedbacks, opinions, unhinged comments and replies can brighten up a writer’s day so much, you have no idea truly. i am not exaggerating when i say that whenever i see a reblog with feedback i immediately read it because it makes my day seeing my reader’s opinions on my works (and because there might be constructive criticism that i can take into count).

reblogs mean so much to writers on tumblr. it’s not about notes or reach. for many of us it’s about interacting with our readers and seeing what you think of our works! it’s so important and it doesn’t even take that long to rb. so please, do show love and support to your fav writers by reblogging and commenting, i promise they’ll be so so happy and thankful <3

[pparadiselost]

me????? evil??????? ( ; ω ; )

yall forget everything i said abt thoma, shoyo is always number one in my heart also shoyostar is coming back n it’s all @pparadiselost’s fault💔💔

[pparadiselost]

the death of a wallflower.

university professor hinata shoyo x university student fem reader your crush on the hot new professor gets out of hand. warning(s): nsfw, unhealthy relationship dynamic (teacher x student), named best friend oc, reader has an unnamed ex, pov change for one of the scenes, non-virgin reader, use of american university setting minors do not interact.

XX UNIVERSITY

XX SEMESTER

WEEK 2

“no, like, our new professor is seriously so hot. like, forget-your-shitty-ex kinda hot. ugh, just wait till you’re in class! you have to believe me!”

minnie’s words echo like the foreshadowing of some porno as you gather yourself outside of the classroom. leave it to your roommate and self-proclaimed best friend to describe the newest professor at your university as “hot,” when most of the faculty are pushing 70 and have the self-awareness of a brick. you honestly have no reason to be this nervous before lecture, but while it might be the start of a boring week two of the semester for your scholarly peers, it’s your first day.

it’s also just your luck to end up with the world’s most horrendous stomach bug right before the semester started. after a few heated email exchanges and a lot of heavy-lifting from minnie, your advisor and dean begrudgingly excused you from classes until you were feeling better.

and now here you are. you took the liberty of showing up to class just a few minutes early to try and talk to your professor to see what exactly you missed, and maybe find a seat. you assumed at this point everyone had their unofficial “official” seats, and you were praying that you could score one somewhere close to minnie.

whatever.

you shake your head like a dog to clear whatever doubts tumbling around in your skull. you’ve dealt with your share of mean professors before, and between forcing yourself to go to class and puking on the floor and dealing with whatever screaming gripe they’ll give you now, you had sagely decided the latter was the better option.

you brace yourself, and you tiptoe into the classroom.

the door squeaks open, and you shuffle inside, almost scared to see what’s on the other side of the door. the classroom is empty, unsurprisingly, and the fairly sized classroom zooms in on a central point: at the professor’s desk. a bag is slumped next to it, and some papers are placed into somewhat neat piles on the desk. a projector illuminates the blackboard behind with its default display.

“ah, welcome in! you’re early!”

you nearly jump out of your own skin at the energetic voice that greets you. standing a few paces from the desk is a young man, dressed crisply in a white button down and formal pants. your eyes crawl up his physique, trailing over the undone button at his throat and the sleeves tastefully rolled up to reveal his toned arms. they’re all classically handsome features, but nothing to write home about—nothing a quick swipe on tinder won’t satiate. 

you step a bit closer. “uh- good morning… i’m a student in your class. i think i emailed you about this a while back, but i was the one that got really sick last week and couldn’t come in.”

you braced yourself for the tirade that you were so used to, the mountain of homework and make up lectures that were bound to be awaiting you. god, you weren’t some kind of study freak, but no one ever likes starting the semester on the wrong foot, especially when that wrong foot means making up a week’s worth of classes all across the board. 

except the tirade never really comes. the man laughs, “so that’s who you are! gotcha, gotcha. well, i can say for sure that it’s much better to see you in person rather than the little yearbook picture i have on my class roster. um… minerva, was it? she said she’d fill you in on the notes that you’ve missed.”

you perk up. “yeah, minnie’s my roommate. and she’s helped me catch up the best she can.”

“awesome! it’s good to hear students helping each other. i mean, that’s what having classmates and roommates is all about anyway,” he continues. you can’t help but notice the charm in his voice, the light rhythm that makes it feel like he’s dancing with his words rather than rambling. “reminds me of my own roommate. tall guy. super awkward. only cared about volleyball. he had this god awful middle part that chased away any girl that remotely found him attractive.”

you fight back a small giggle. he was funny. “i’m glad to say that minnie isn’t anything like that. if anything, i’d say she’s the opposite…”

“oh?” your professor quickly quips. “bit of a boy magnet, is she? i’m just messing with you. but yeah, like i said, it’s lovely to finally meet you. if you have any troubles, don’t ever feel scared to reach out to me. i’d rather that i know what’s going on than to be left guessing, and i promise you whatever ‘stupid’ thing you’re worrying about, i’ve definitely done dumber in my own undergrad years. sound cool?”

your eyes trail upwards again, from the outline of his small waist and broad chest. your mind wanders momentarily, wondering what his workout routine must be. you gloss over his smooth face, marveling at the smooth skin and the sunshine-like smile that tickles his mouth. he really couldn’t be that much older than you, despite being a professor, and if you saw him on the streets, outside of this academic setting, you would have never guessed him to hold such a position of authority with a face this young. his eyes are just like yours, lively but with a tinge of timidness that invites you to probe a bit deeper, a bit closer. and his hair: it’s the most beautiful, sensual shade of sunset orange.

it isn’t like your breath is being taken away in one fell swoop. rather, it feels like he’s coaxing it from you, stealing it away subtly so that you’re left to lean in, fiending for it like a fish caught out of water. 

your gaze meets his, and you’re shoved back down to the correct plane of reality. fuck—you were not about to be caught staring like a creep at your professor on day one on all days…!

you nod shakily. “it’s nice to meet you too, professor-”

“-hinata,” he finishes, beaming even wider at you. “although, i told the class they can call me shoyo if they want to. i’m still pretty new to the whole teaching thing, so being called ‘professor’ feels a bit weird.”

“ah,” your voice drops in volume a tad, “i’m personally more comfortable with ‘professor’, so i’ll stick to that, i think. if it’s okay.”

he holds his hand up in mock surrender. “totally chill. whatever rocks your boat. if you don’t have any more questions, then make yourself comfortable. i think minnie tends to sit… over there, if you wanna get settled down. i know you already got the notes from her, but i promise you didn’t miss much in the first week, so don’t sweat anything.”

“thank you!” you breathe, getting ready to turn on your heel and march to the area professor hinata pointed out. something inside your rib cage trembles as if shocked with electricity, an anticipation for a breath of fresh air that only the beginning of a new semester could bring. you don’t know what to call it exactly. it isn’t quite excitement nor is it giddiness, but a liminal middle ground in between all of it where dread, the need for poise, and opportunity intermingle.

“hey.” 

you glance over your shoulder at the sound of your professor’s voice. your professor grins at you, and in that split second, at you alone. his eyes twinkle fondly.

your breath catches in the back of your throat. 

“let’s have a good semester together, you and i.” 

the brown of his irises feel as if they’re going to swallow you whole. 

you tear your eyes away. 

…

…

…

“sooooooooo,” minnie practically slams your dorm room’s door shut and corners you in the small excuse of a room that you call home while at school. her eyes are brimming with the mischievous glimmer that you know all too well, and she stares you down with the most expectant look on her face. “isn’t the new professor hot? exactly like i told you?”

you dump your bag on the ground, crawling into your bed and immediately finding your place under the sheets. it’s been a long first day for you, and despite feverishly praying to whatever divinity was up above that the rest of your professors would be as kind as professor hinata was, it looks like your calls went wholly unanswered.

you massage the slight ache in your shoulders. “i mean, yeah, he’s an attractive man, and i guess he’s pretty nice. but nothing super out of the ordinary.”

minnie sticks her tongue out, and she pretends to boo you. she huffs her chest out and plants her hands squarely on her hips, clearly not impressed by your review of the new eye candy she’s scoped out. “you’re no fun! i bet you’re only saying this because you’re still hung up about that pathetic scum of a human being you call an ex. c’mon! the best way to get over a shitty boy is to simply find another one!”

something inside your chest twinges with a dull ache, and you flop back onto your bed. “as much as i would love to share your optimism, i don’t think hopping from one boy to another will make me feel any less shitty about this breakup.”

“well, you gotta give me something to work with! and besides,” she sidles up to the side of your bed, and she leans in close to your face, as if she’s whispering a secret to you. “professor hinata isn’t a boy. he’s a man.”

you hold back the urge to throw a pillow at your roommate. you’re grateful that you have minnie to get you out of your own mind sometimes, but at the same time, she better be grateful that she has you to ground her to reality. 

“he’s our professor, minnie!” you pretend to scold her, but you fail at holding back an exasperated smile. “i’m all for you homie hopping through whatever ligma sigma dickma frat you’ve got your eyes on, but faculty are strictly off limits!”

“hey, be nice to me!” she laughs back, reaching over to poke at your cheeks. “doesn’t professor hinata look super young though? like he can’t be that far off from our age. that doesn’t make it that bad, does it?”

you shake your head. “i don’t care how old he is! pursuing your professor is a huge no-no!”

“ughhhhh! i’m trying to find the silver lining for you here! i’d much rather you drool over your hot professor than mope around in bed over your ex all day, okay? besides, it’s not every semester that we get to have a class together AND have a professor that doesn’t dress like fucking paddington,” she groans dramatically. she’s basically swooning at this point, acting as if the notion of a new, handsome romantic prospect for her to chase after and you being disinterested is the end of the world for her. you’re used to this song and dance by now, and you know she’s being theatrical just to get on your nerves. 

it’s funny to you. minnie has a talent for making you laugh over the stupidest things. you barely stifle back a giggle. “leave paddington out of this! the poor guy has done nothing wrong.”

“you get my point!”

you settle back into your cozy spot on your bed, snuggling into your sheets. you don’t want to open up the can of worms that catching up on homework would be just yet, and as fantastical as minnie’s romantic endeavors could be, they make for a good distraction from all the responsibilities you don’t want to face yet. she glances at you lovingly, her fingers drumming against your rackety bed frame.

“but you do think he’s hot, yeah?” she starts. you snort.

“i said i found him to be an attractive man but nothing special, minnie.” you chew over your words, and your eyes flicker up to the white expanse of your ceiling. your mind conjures up images of your new professor, and the relief you had felt when he had treated you so warmly.

he was such a sunny young man, and true to minnie’s guess, probably not that much older than you were. most definitely fresh out of school and figuring things out for himself, your quick interaction with him before class felt more like talking to a classmate or a teacher’s assistant at best, rather than a well-educated professor trying to test his craft and wrangle throngs of antsy college students. you liked talking to him. 

“i’d say he’s more charismatic than hot,” you offer up. minnie guffaws at your answer, and it’s her turn to roll her eyes.

“fine, fine, i get it! you’re not going to bite at whatever temptation i throw at you. that’s my roommate for you, always the toughest nut to crack,” she sighs and shakes her head at you as if you’re hopeless, but you know she means well. there’s nobody else in the world who would care for you like this, go this much out of her way to make sure you don’t feel alone. 

it’s almost enough to dispel the thoughts of your new professor from your mind. 

almost.

your heart softens around the edges when your mind pushes the image of him alone with you into your mind. just that one cadence, no longer than thirty seconds at most, when it was only the two of you in that empty classroom, with no other soul in the room to shield you from the incoming stranger wedging his way into your life—just you and him, caught in that suspended moment.

he’s still so beautiful in your memory. 

“-anyways,” minnie’s loud voice jostles you from your thoughts. heat rushes to your face in embarrassment, as if you had been caught doing something bad red-handed. she doesn’t seem to notice, and you choke back your guilt on losing track of yourself over your new professor in favor of whatever minnie’s spouting next. she purses her lips in thought. “i’m feeling kinda peckish, so what do you say about getting takeout for dinner?”

“we have food in our fridge,” you curtly remind her.

she groans in utter defeat, flopping onto you over the side of your bed. “you’re such a goody two shoes! what in the world will ever get you to break?”

…

…

…

WEEK 4

what in the world, indeed. 

you fidget listlessly inside professor hinata’s office. you’ve never seen him with glasses before, but a pair is perched slightly crooked on his nose as he clicks at the big monitors on his desk, probably pulling up whatever answer you scrawled out on the google form he had sent out a few days prior. you’ve always been a little antsy whenever meeting with a professor in general, but make it a mandatory one-on-one meeting with a certain professor that seems to make your heart act up and you’re vibrating so hard that you might as well cause an earthquake.

“so…,” he starts, skimming your response, “i really like what you wrote here. think you can tell me more about what you have planned for your final project?”

you lick your lips and swallow, and you’re suddenly aware of how dry your mouth is. “uh, yeah. i’m sure minnie’s already told you most of it-”

you stop dead in your tracks when professor hinata raises a hand, cutting you off. you pause, a prickle of dread swirling in your stomach.

he smiles apologetically. “sorry, i really don’t like interrupting students. but this is your final project, and i want to hear your ideas. not minnie’s. i know you wrote that you two want to do it as a pair, and that’s fine. but your ideas are just as valuable as yours are, and this time is reserved so i can pick at your brain, not hers.”

“r-right…,” you murmur. your heart flutters the slightest bit when you realize he’s paying special attention to you, but you shut any excitement down immediately. you were a goddamn adult and a college student. what kind of person would you be if you couldn’t hold it together around your professor, who 100% without a doubt saw you as a pupil? you mentally scold yourself for finding your instructor’s undivided attention appealing.

“like you said,” you start up, your voice still quiet, “i thought it’d be nice to do a joint research thing with minnie, and we wanted to focus on our campus’ experience with single versus shared dorm life. we figured something like that would be easy to find professional data for on a much larger scale, so we can compare and contrast with our own findings.”

he hums to himself. you keep your eyes fixed on a point on the wall behind him, not wanting your eyes to wander. it isn’t like professor hinata always comes to class impeccably dressed in a suit and tie or anything, but he also has a horrendously good sense of fashion that makes you instinctively shy away a bit. he’s dressed nicely today too: in a sweater with a white button down underneath that peeks over the collar of the sweater and what should be loose black pants that fit tightly around his thighs. you hate yourself for noticing these details. 

“that sounds like a pretty solid plan to me. i like how far you’re thinking ahead. research like this usually takes a lot of time and energy, so it’s good to have a vision for what you plan to do at the end. do you have any thoughts as to how you’re going to collect data? i suppose reaching out to housing would help with pure numbers, but for tackling the more social and emotional parts, you’ll need to do that yourself.” 

you’re keenly aware of when he glances towards you, his gaze burning into you like a magnifying glass held up to the sun. god, you shouldn’t be so on edge around him, and yet something about how casual he is with you and just how sweet he is with you makes you that much more stiff. you don’t dare meet his eyes.

maybe it’s that vulnerable intimate one-on-one that’s making you so much more aware of his presence, or maybe it’s the close confines of his office, but you know you’re going to waver if you make eye contact with him. 

“minnie and i wanted to conduct physical surveys. we were planning on contacting the different r.a.s of each housing building and asking the school for the information to off campus housing managers. that way we can distribute questions as far as we can,” you recited stately. “we even considered maybe putting in a raffle reward for responses, which would incentivize people to actually respond instead of ignoring it.”

professor hinata whistles. “i’m impressed. you two have really thoroughly thought all of this through! you never fail to impress me with how much attention to detail you put with your schoolwork. i wish all of my students were as diligent as you were sometimes.”

you bite down on your tongue, and it takes all of your willpower to not let some kind of fucked up glee swell inside your chest. “thank you, professor. the idea was originally minnie’s idea, but i was the one that really did most of the work ironing out the kinks.”

he laughs heartily. “i can imagine. between the two of you, i can tell that you’re the more responsible one by a long shot. don’t get me wrong: minnie’s a wonderful student. but at the end of the day, it’s still you cleaning up her messes, isn’t it?”

“yeah,” you bashfully admit. you can’t even count the number of times you’ve been the one to pick her up from her drunken escapades or be the one to force her into bed after holding her hair while she pukes. as much emotional stability as she gives you, she does need a tad bit of mothering. “but she’s still a great friend. i couldn’t ask for a better roommate. we might have opposite personalities, but we balance each other out perfectly, i think.”

“that’s good to hear! it’s always nice to know my students are getting along. especially quieter ones like you.” he leans forward in his seat, almost as if he’s whispering a secret to you. “us professors aren’t allowed to have favorites, but it’s human nature to always root a little for the well-behaved underdogs.”

you swallow a bit more harshly. there’s a lump in your throat. you really, really need to do something about whatever you feel towards your professor, because you know deep down that it’s wrong to keep wanting his attention like this. he’s being friendly and watching out for you, because he knows you’re the plain mouse-like student amongst a sea of wild young adults carving their way in the world. he’s only helping you, only complimenting you because he’s genuine and wants to see you do well, and you’re hoarding that attention and craving it like a man starved.

“she’s done a lot to get me where i am right now,” you admit, wanting to deflect. “i broke up with my now ex-boyfriend over the summer, and she did so much to make sure i was doing okay. i know you probably don’t care that much about messy college student drama, but… she has my back until the end.”

he raises an eyebrow. “i don’t mind. trust me, professors love hearing about student drama as much as the students do. also if it helps me get to know you better, then it doesn’t hurt, does it? having more information, no matter how silly, is better than knowing nothing about you at all.”

“i mean, it really is silly.” you’re trying very hard not to look him in the face. your eyes flit everywhere but, looking at your hands, the neckline of his sweater, the peeling wallpaper, anything. “i really liked that guy, and he ran off and cheated on me. i caught him red handed and did the right thing by confronting him and immediately breaking things off, but it’s not like you can wake up and decide that you don’t like someone anymore, no matter how awful he was to me.”

“i’m sorry that happened to you. it’s never fun to feel betrayed by someone you trusted, especially romantically.” he taps his fingers together.

you wave him off, shrugging. “i’m a lot better about it now! it hurts every now and then, but i’m choosing to focus on myself. i did nothing wrong, and it’s better for me to have cut him off than to turn a blind eye. and minnie’s always inviting me out to all sorts of things to take my mind off of it too.”

“that’s good. i wish i could say relationships get easier once you become an adult, but… there’s no cheat key to things like love. you gotta roll up your sleeves and do the nitty gritty work.” he feigns rolling his sleeves up, and he shakes his head. a blur of orange flickers like candle light in the corner of your eye. “even full grown adults do terrible things to each other. but just like you said, it makes you appreciate the bonds that stay true to you even through your hardships.”

“clearly,” you breathe. your voice is airy, almost strained. god, he was just so easy to spill your heart to. why couldn’t your ex be like this? professor hinata is thoughtful, intelligent, and emotionally mature. you need to step away, need to keep your distance, but even your attempts to deflect yourself away from the growing attachment you have to your instructor only ends with him expertly spinning things into his favor.

he chuckles to himself and leans back into his seat. “my mom would always say that it’s better to be single and free than to be miserable and tied down. besides, you’re only in college! the big wide world is waiting for you! i promise you, there are far better guys out there that can treat you the way you deserve to be treated. one failed college relationship isn’t going to doom you for the rest of your life, okay? take this one from your prof.”

“i’m sure.” 

you don’t doubt his words. the little resolve, the sliver of morality lingering inside your turmoiled brain, is crackling. it’s wrong to lean this forward towards your professor, to grasp and grip at the stray straws you can see, and yet, it feels so good. the heady silence that settles over the two of you is reminiscent of your first meeting with him, back to the moment when it was only you and him in the same way it is now. 

but things are different today. he knows more about you. you’ve learned to trust him. he’s always respected you, but it’s clear that he treats you like an adult on equal footing with him rather than your other professors who act as if you were born yesterday. he genuinely cares for you.

you subconsciously steel your stomach, and you sneak your eyes upwards from the hemline of his sweater. your gaze trickles cautiously over his broad chest and his neck, over the detail of his lips and nose, apple-like cheeks, before eventually meeting his inquisitive one. you unintentionally let out a choked sigh, like the wind is being squeezed out from your lungs.

his eyes light up and smile at you, as if to say “finally.” 

you can’t breathe.

you want to lean in; you want to close that impossible gap that tenses and pulses between the two of you. what kind of tension is this? something so forbidden, so magnetic, so undeniable yet unavailable for the taking… it feels like torture, to see your meek reflection staring back at you in the wide sclera and captivating brown irises of professor hinata’s eyes, and to be able to do nothing about it. this was the devastating nature of attraction, knowing that your personal insanity might amount to nothing the very instant you handed your fate over to another.

knock knock knock. 

you nearly splutter over your own inhale before jerking away back into your seat. a loud knocking noise repeats itself around the small confines of his office, and you’re left stunned, your heart hammering like a death toll inside your tense ribcage. you drop your face down to the floor, not daring to tear your eyes away from anywhere other than the anchoring, humiliating safety of the ground.

“ah, looks like our time is up. it seems like the next student is here,” professor hinata explains, much to your simultaneous dismay and relief. this isn’t a line you can cross, and yet you crossed some kind of personal boundary you set up for yourself right there when you snuck a glimpse into your professor’s eyes. 

“i-i’ll get going. thank you for the meeting,” you stammer, hurriedly grabbing your things and almost stumbling over your feet to get to the door. “i’ll keep working on my project- and uh- i’ll reach out to you if i have any questions…!”

you don’t know what kind of face he must be making, not when you don’t have the courage to look at him again. you sprint out of the door, away from the tense sparks that lay dying out into fumes between the two of you, surely a machination of your deprived brain. the hallway echoes with the sound of your footsteps as you half-run-half-speed-walk away from the office, wanting to go anywhere else as quickly as your clumsy feet would take you.

how could you be so stupid? not only do you end up blabbing about a bad breakup to him, revealing that you’re single, but you’re idiotic enough to think that his goodwill is something you can entertain into something further.

you hate to admit it.

you’re falling in love with your professor. 

…

…

…

WEEK 7

“you should go out with me this weekend.”

“i’ll think about it.”

“pleaseeeeeeee? i basically have my outfit picked out, and i’m dying to get a matching one for you! it’s been so long since you let me dress you up, and i’m itching to do something fun with you for the weekend! please? pretty please? with sprinkles and oreos and whipped cream and cherries on top?”

you groan, tempted to slam your head into your desk. “minnie, i said i’ll think about it. i’ve already seen the five million instagram dms you’ve sent me begging to go to whatever frat party is being thrown.”

“it’s sig-chi,” she reminds you, as if that’s the important part. some of the students next to you shoot the two of you odd glances, and you flash a weak smile, inwardly apologizing for minnie’s obliviousness when it came to blurting your business. it wasn’t like the entire class heard, thank god, but the noise levels weren’t high enough where you could act a bit more stealthily. you wish it was, even if it was only to spare you from whatever social embarrassment your mostly well-meaning roommate was bound to put you through.

you turn your attention back to the work you’re trying to get done. you’re grateful professor hinata gives you time in class to work on your final projects. after that fateful instance in office hours with him where you came face-to-face with your feelings, you haven’t been able to really act normally around your instructor. fearing for your own sanity, you’ve done everything you possibly can to avoid interacting with him one-on-one. it’s not like something like that is particularly difficult to do, but your heart still skips a beat and lodges itself in the back of your throat when he catches you in the hallway, greeting you with a light “good to see you!” before squeezing past you.  

your cheeks sting with heat when you think about him. you bite down only your tongue, willing for the dull pain to ground you. minnie hums absentmindedly next to you, completely unaware of the hell that she’s partially responsible for, and she taps away at her phone. 

“hey, hey, look at this! isn’t this outfit sooooo cute? it would look perfect on you! and if i order it today, it should get here in time for the sig-chi function!” she sticks her phone screen in your face, and you instinctively recoil away. 

your blood runs cold when you see the outfit she’s showing you. it’s a cute sparkly little number, except for the fact that it would cover barely anything if you were to put it on. one wrong move in it, and your whole chest and ass would be out for the world to see. and that’s not including the already exposed midriff it would entail. “it’s cute, but- i don’t know if i could wear something like that…”

“nonsense! i can see you perfectly in it! it’ll be awesome!” she quickly cuts you off. “a cute but still slutty outfit is key to every good party! i bet you’ll have all of the guys in there chasing after you in this. oh, the color will sooooo make your eyes pop, and i think i can really make your features shine with a bit of my make up too…”

you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. embarrassment prickles like red-hot thorns underneath your face, and you try to grab at minnie’s phone. “minnie! you know i don’t wear things like that!”

“exactly! it’s all the more reason why! i’m trying to help you make your debut on the university dating scene,” the girl responds as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “you’ll be thanking me once you have a drop dead gorgeous six foot something basketball player wrapped around your little finger. trust me, i’m the expert in these kinds of things.”

“that’s not the point!” you hiss. ugh, you should really know better than to talk reason into her during one of her frenzied rants. you have absolutely zero intention of actually going out to one of these sleazy frat parties, let alone wear a skimpy outfit in order to bait a boy! you need time and patience to heal your broken heart, not… her wild schemes. you would rather bite off your tongue than go through whatever public humiliation ritual is involved with flirting at a frat party.

“ladies,” a deep yet sunny voice cuts through your annoyed inner monologue like a hot knife through butter, “i hope we’re actually getting work done. you wouldn’t be goofing off in my class, would you?”

your blood turns into ice for the second time within minutes, and when you peel your eyes up from your desk, your fear comes true when you see professor hinata standing there. his hands are on his hips, and despite his teasingly scolding tone, he’s sporting a bright smile.

you curse yourself inwardly, and you’re mentally scrambling to make an excuse.

“professor! look at this! wouldn’t this look so good on (y/n)?” minnie’s a step ahead of you. you audibly splutter over your breath, and you shove your head into your hands. she giggles as she sticks her phone in your professor’s face, and you’ve never been more mortified in your life.

professor hinata’s eyes widen at the more-lingerie-than-actual-clothing that’s being bombarded into his eyes, and he coughs, waving his hand. “woah, i’m not sure if i’m the right person to be asking that, minnie! why don’t we save the party talk for after class?”

she pretends to be exasperated, and she jokingly rolls her eyes. “ugh, you two are hopeless! you have to help me out here, professor. i’m trying to get (y/n) to loosen up a bit and have some fun with me! isn’t it true that you feel loads better when you do a bit of dolling up?”

“well, yes, but it looks like (y/n) here isn’t too keen on that idea. take it easy on the party going, and let’s focus more on your final project. trust me when i say your deadlines will be creeping up on you fast,” he easily brushes minnie off. she smiles brightly and nods, and only then does she finally turn to her computer and start compiling her research.

you want lightning to strike you down and burn you to a crisp. you peel your head out of your hands, and your weary eyes meet your professor’s. he grins understandingly at you, and he reaches forward to squeeze your shoulder empathetically.

“...!”

you grit your teeth, your eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights as electricity courses through your body. the skin where his hand just was feels like it had been burned, thrown completely off guard by the sudden contact.

“are you doing okay?” he whispers. his voice is soft and quiet, coaxing you out of your panicked state. it’s a voice reserved solely for you, one that only you can hear, and your blood is being weighed down by figurative iron when your heart flutters. “take it easy now. don’t let her goad you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

your lips feel clumsy. “she means well. i’m fine. she talks big, but she won’t actually do anything without my express permission.”

he’s more of a danger to you than minnie will ever be. you wish you had the courage or brainlessness to blurt something like that, but the bitter revelation stays curled up into the flesh of your still tongue, burning and scalding you like the unspoken confession it is.

“that’s good to hear. take care of yourself though. if she keeps fretting over you, you’ll make me worry too, you hear?” his nose crinkles a little when he squeezes your shoulder again. did he always have freckles? or are you only noticing them now that he’s up close and you have nowhere else to focus except for his face? you hate it, hate this tension, hate the way you can’t control yourself despite knowing better.

you hang your head, forcibly tearing your eyes away from your handsome professor. you lie through your teeth. “i’ll be okay, professor.”

…

…

…

“ohhhhh, fuck…!”

shoyo double, triple, quadruple-checked to make sure that his office door was firmly locked around him. it would be the literal death of his academic career if someone were to catch him doing what he was about to do, and he wasn’t that keen on throwing aside his future just yet. 

he had made a beeline for his office the moment class let out. it took every bone in his body, every last bit of willpower he has ever known in his entire life to keep his sunny facade up and to make sure no one would see his mask slip. he can’t afford it, and yet he’s still gambling too riskily. he’s cutting it too close to safety to relax fully, but he can’t stop.

his cock twitches and strains in his pants, begging for his attention. he leans his back against the firm wooden door, his breathing shallowing as lewd images flash behind his eyes. fuck—he really should know how to control himself better than this, actually listen to the angel in his brain telling him that he should really quit being so attracted to his students.

correction: student. 

correction again: you.

his fingers unconsciously unbuckle his belt, and his pants drop down to his ankles. he grits his teeth, a strangled breath escaping his clenched teeth as he palms the prominent bulge in his boxers. it was one thing to ride out his delusions on his own, savoring the forbidden dregs of toeing the line between professionalism and a taboo romance. 

you played the part so well too. like a frightened doe that would run away if he moved too quickly, you were good at keeping your walls up and fending off his quiet advances enough. the push and pull had him reeling: part of him wanting him to do better and to act properly as a new professor should, and another wondering how much cuter you’d be bent over his desk and your pretty cunt stuffed full of his cock.

“...shit-,” he hisses as his hands slip underneath his boxers. it only takes a few strokes for his cock to fully get hard, and the cool air of the office hits his sensitive skin like a flurry of ice. heat courses through his body, and he feels awful.

he shouldn’t be doing this. he shouldn’t be getting aroused by his student and jerking off in his office, but here he was. the last straw was seeing your roommate pitch that damn slutty outfit. you looked so innocent and so sweet, clearly not a party animal, but how often did your roommate swing you around? did you get down and wild if pushed far enough? shit, was your good girl thing just a ruse to get brownie points with him?

“fuck- fuuuuck…!” he starts stroking himself, palm swiping from base to tip, squeezing his cockhead a hair. dull pleasure swirls deep inside of his stomach, and he moves his hips into his palm, the friction downright addictive.

he imagines you in that outfit, your tits and ass basically out for the world to see. maybe you’d let your friend drag you out to her silly party. maybe you’d act shy there too, skirting around the sidelines of the dance room, sipping nervously on your drink. maybe the alcohol would make your head buzz a bit and you’d get a bit bolder. maybe you’d let some douchey frat bro feel you up, that dumb bastard not knowing how good he has it by getting your attention.

shoyo groans under his breath. god, you shouldn’t be wasting your energy and time on stupid college boys. all they would do is exploit you and leave you for dead, even though you were clearly the best thing to walk into their lives. 

he thumbs over his weeping tip, moaning throatily as he presses into his slit. his chest rises and falls, the electric feeling making his knees go weak. touching himself never felt this good. nothing came close to that buzzing high of being deprived of you.

his mind doesn’t stop wandering. raunchy thoughts of you dancing floods his brain. he imagines you grinding up against him, your soft ass pressing up against his crotch. he’d buck his hips against yours, let the heat mount as his hands wander over your body, that skimpy outfit of you doing nothing to protect you from him. you’d glance back at him, feeling his strong chest up on your back, the muscles of his arms tensing when you pull him flush against you. your eyes would have that drunken haze to them, intoxicated off of whatever was in your cup and getting down and dirty with your professor. 

it reminds him of his own idiotic undergraduate days, ones he thought he matured past when he became a proper working adult. clearly not, if the thought of dancing with you and feeling you up has him furiously fisting his hard cock. 

he needs to be inside you. he doesn’t want to feel his hand on his cock anymore. he wants to ruin that pristine image you have. he wants to see you crying and moaning, going from his stellar unassuming pupil to some cock crazed slut, begging for him to fuck you harder, to fuck you deeper, completely at his mercy. he wants to see your clothes in tatters with nothing to shield you from his almost animalistic lust, for you to see him as a proper grown man who wants to pamper you as much as he wants to ruin you rather than some stuffy professor.

it’s downright problematic how much he needs you. it’s more than just wanting to fuck you. no, he’s a gentleman. he wants you to want him, even if it’s only to ease the guilt nagging at his heart. you’re too smart for your own good, and yet when you’re surrounded by all these bad apples nipping at your heels and waiting for you to stumble, it’s no wonder that you’ve become so holed in.

you simply need someone who’ll treat you right. who’ll make you shine. who’ll be a proper lover, someone that can actually step up to that mantle.

“hah- god fucking dammit…! fuck- fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck- shit…! fucking hell, god- fuck!” his grip on his cock tightens, and he thinks his body is going to break. the dopamine buzz in his mind is almost explosive, and he knows he can’t control himself for much longer. he's close, so close, egged onto the edge by fantasizing about the thought of his student in a revealing party outfit. 

what kind of scum did that make him? if his mind was any clearer, he might know, but it isn’t. all that his sex-riddled brain can make out is how badly he wants your body. he craves the weird sick satisfaction of being the one to stretch out your sweet hole with his girthy length, to fill every little bit of your womb up with pumps of his hot cum, to pleasure you so thoroughly that he’ll ruin sex for the rest of your life—unless it’s with him, of course.

you flicker behind his eyes again. your body trembles against his as he pretends he’s thrusting into you rather than his pre-cum drenched hand. your cunt quivers and tightens around him, and your face is stained with your tears. mascara runs down your cheeks, and your lipstick is smeared messily all over your mouth. your legs shake around his hips as he fucks into you, tip easily squeezing and abusing that sweet spot deep inside your body.

“what a pretty girl.” he’d praise you, take his sweet time making sure you get all the loving you deserve. “how could someone as pretty as you stay out of my sight for so long?”

the image of you in his mind bucks your hips back against him, and the pleasure that explodes around his cock has him weak in the knees. he’s so close, so close to giving you his seed, to marking you as his. he’s humping into you desperately, wanting you to feel that impeccable stretch, pierced and plowed by him, driven to madness by his infatuation.

“i’m here! i’m yours!” you pant out. you’re starstruck. smitten. everything he’s wanted.

“-kgh…!” 

warmth overtakes his entire body, and strong ropes of cum escape from him. he grits his teeth, clenching his jaw and willing himself to keep his moans to himself. he’s dead meat if he gets caught masturbating to the thought of his student in his office. cum spills out all over his office floor and coats his hands, spilling and spilling like the pent up frustration bottled away in his heart. he furiously strokes himself through his orgasm, and sparks fly in his brain, pleasure coursing through his veins like one giant shockwave.

he throws his head back, gasping for air as his cock sputters, the last drops of virile cum leaking out and covering his fingers. his cock slowly softens in his hand, and he sucks in deep inhales, the cool air soothing the heat enveloping his entire body. 

shoyo’s mind feels fuzzy and distant, like he’s been shoved out of this plane of existence temporarily. his limbs are weak, and his abs tense and coil in on itself as he forces himself to steady his breathing. his vision is blurred slightly around the edges, but the world emerges back into focus with each passing inhale and exhale.

he hasn’t even fully come down from his high, but he knows that the lack of guilt he’s feeling is wrong. he should feel bad, he should feel dirty, he should feel like he’s done something criminal. what professor jerks off to his student and doesn’t feel any sort of post-nut clarity? he swallows heavily, but the knot in his throat that should be there is nowhere to be found.

he doesn’t want to give his growing interest in you any more attention than it needs. the last thing he should be doing is fanning the flames, and just now, he fed the monster when he should be depriving it, starving it.

his gaze crests downwards, towards the pristine streaks of pearly cum all over his hand and the floor. he knows he’s beyond saving when he bitterly wishes all of it could have gone inside of you and your sweet pussy instead of being wasted on nothing.

“...let’s clean up,” he whispers to no one in particular. he hates the apathy he feels, reaching almost robotically for the kleenex he kept on his desk, not a single prick of guilt or wrongdoing stirring in his body as he moves clumsily through the aftershocks of his orgasm to rid the proof that he had even touched himself to the thought of you to begin with. you don’t have to know that he ever jerked off to you or the fact that his desire for you grows and festers like a rotten wound inside of his heart. because that is what it is in the eyes of everything that is moral and good: rotten.

but what you don’t know can’t kill you.

…

…

…

WEEK 10

you had dreaded the next mandatory meeting with professor hinata for a while now. you had done such a good job of keeping a low profile for a while now, only ever addressing your instructor when it was absolutely necessary and whatever interactions you needed so that he wouldn’t pick up on the fact that you were purposefully avoiding him.

you had also done a good job at keeping minnie’s eagerness at bay. your final project for professor hinata’s class was a very handy excuse to avoid going out to parties with her, and crunching the data also did an exceptional job at keeping you busy instead of moping about in your room alone.

you’d think at this point in the semester you’d have quit being so hung up over your ex and your general failure of a love life, but seeing that your romantic prospect was a crush on your professor that you were actively trying to get over for your own sake, clearly things weren’t looking great for you.

but this was something you couldn’t escape. you sit on your hands to keep yourself from more or less bolting out of professor hinata’s office. his eyes are glued to the monitors on his desk in good professor-like fashion, scanning over the work you’ve handed in for him to check.

you’ve done this song and dance before. you’ve been stuck in his office before, too scared to make eye contact with your professor out of fear as to your heart betraying you. you have to keep a firm grip on yourself, and you look at your professor but make it a point not to look at his face.

“man, i know i say this every time i look over your progress, but you really do outdo yourself. you deserve a pat on the back,” he remarks, smiling proudly as he leans back in his seat. “you’re definitely in a good place for where we are in the semester, and as long as you keep at it, i’d say you’ll easily get an a for your final grade.”

“thank you,” you quietly state. he’s dressed simply today, in a black turtleneck and jeans. it makes his bright orange hair stand out that much more, and you try with all your might not to stare too hard at the obvious outlines of his toned pecs and waist straining against the fabric of the sweater.

he looks good today too. you want to eat your own fist and curl up into a ball to cry. it was like for every step forward your determination took to keep yourself in check, professor hinata threw a screwball at you to make you take two steps back.

you wish things would go as smoothly as it did the last time you were here, vulnerable to his scrutiny and left with your own flimsy defenses. the same thick tension hangs in the air again, and you pray that you won’t act out of place.

“so,” his voice cuts through your thoughts, like it always does. he knows how to catch you right off guard, wedging himself right into the split-second crack in your judgment. “all i’ve got to say is that i’m excited to see your actual final all put together. your findings are going to be really interesting, and i’m also looking forward to comparing what you find against whatever conclusions minnie draws from the same data. i don’t mean to get so personal again, but the two of you are so different that i wonder if your findings will be that stark too.”

you inhale, fixing your eyes on a spot behind him as if it was ritual to ground yourself that way. “i won’t spoil too much of her stuff, but she also has some pretty cool ideas. she’s told me some things that i wouldn’t have thought to consider in her part of the project, so… just something to get you more hyped!”

he chuckles, the low cadence of his voice making your heart flutter a beat. “i’ll take your word for it. i hope she’s treating you well. i know that you know your bond with her better than i ever will, but i really hope her energetic personality isn’t too overbearing for you. you come to me if you have any issues, okay?”

“i appreciate it. but i’m fine, really. she’s a lot, i know, but she means it out of love,” you reply methodically. this isn’t the first time someone has scrutinized your relationship with her, often misconstruing her enthusiasm and your more quiet personality to her mistreating you. sure, you two don’t see eye-to-eye about everything, but you wouldn’t hold her so close if she wasn’t someone who would see things through thick and thin for you. 

he nods. “alright, i trust you. but it never hurts to be vigilant. take it from someone with a bit more life experience than you do: people can still hurt you and claim that it’s from a place of love. this isn’t to say that minnie’s a bad person, but you and i have something special. i want you to stay safe.”

something lodges in the back of your throat. your mind swirls dangerously, and you can’t think. special? you and him have something special? you almost laugh unconsciously; it’s like despite all the work you did to keep your heart under lock and key, he’s determined to burrow his way in there. 

you hate how easily you crumble. all it took him was one well timed sentence with that stupidly charming voice of his, and it made weeks on weeks of self-imposed deprivation disappear like dust.

“don’t worry, i’ve been doing a lot of work to take care of myself. do you remember that ex i told you about? after him, i did a lot of work reevaluating the people closest to me and whether or not i trusted them blindly,” you hesitate, pursing your lips and sucking your cheeks in a little. you comb over your next thoughts carefully. talking with professor hinata is a mental game of its own, and you feel like you’re playing against an impossible opponent. “there’s… definitely a more eloquent way for me to have phrased all of that, but… you get the point.”

“i do. god, you poor thing. how could anyone hurt someone like you like he did? i know i’m biased as your professor, but even then… you’re so bright and kind. he really fumbled. that’s my two cents.” his shoulders shake a bit as he laughs, the sound coming from somewhere deep inside of his chest. your stomach feels queasy, and every part of your body wants to swoon. your attraction to him is trouble. it’s fatal. 

you dig your nails into the flesh of your palms. the stinging pain does little to bring you back to your good conscience, but it’s something to focus on other than the hazy lapses in judgment that dance inside your mind. “it’s all growing pains. this is what being an adult means, doesn’t it? you said so yourself last time we talked. there’s bound to be someone better out there in the world.”

you don’t need to look at him to know that he’s looking at you. the office feels constricting and so much smaller than you remember it to be, as if the walls are actively moving in closer and keeping you trapped in there with your deathly charismatic professor. 

“yes.” his voice drops a bit in volume, and it sounds almost intimate. “yes, i did say that.”

something possesses you. it creeps in quietly, like a drop of ink dispersed into a glass of clear water. no, you shouldn’t say that; whatever was plaguing you had taken root months ago. whatever you were trying to save was just a remnant of the ruin in your head. you swallow thickly, almost like you were trying to press your logic, your goodness, your moral conscience back down into nothingness.

you lift your face. his sweet eyes are there to greet you, and they light up when you meet his gaze. his eyes are warm and welcoming, and you’re instantly entranced. he’s beautiful, insanely beautiful, and the brown color has you floored. you want to reach out and cup his face, and you want to just stare into his eyes forever. it’s like he’s a siren that’s called out to you specifically, tempting you to inch closer and to let him take you away, entranced forever. your lips start quivering. you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t reflect and let out one last pathetic struggle to cling to what you know to be right.

maybe things would have been different then. maybe if you tried harder, you’d have picked the morally correct thing. maybe you’d walk out of professor hinata’s office unscathed, your relationship tense but still at the boundary it should be at, and you’d graduate and put your crush behind you as nothing more than a silly infatuation. 

but you don’t. some repressed part of your mind slips. the words tumble from your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“i wish it could be you.”

you instantly throw your hands over your mouth, your eyes widening in shock. regret flashes through your entire being, and your face burns with shame. professor hinata gasps softly, but he doesn’t say anything.

“sorry-,” you fumble, your stomach twisting into horrid knots. panic shoots through your brain, and you’re screaming internally at yourself. you want to say something, anything, apologize profusely, but the gears in your head won’t turn. your entire mental processes are overrun with nothing but sheer panic, and you feel like your brain has turned into a piece of useless metal. “i-i’m sorry…! i didn’t mean it like that- i wasn’t thinking… i just- i don’t know what came over me.”

“hey, hey, calm down.” he reaches forward, leaning over his desk, and a firm hand plants itself on your knee. you almost jerk away from him, like his touch would hurt you, and your professor can see the wild, feral fear in your eyes.

it’s one thing to deal with your illicit feelings on your own, but to accidentally blurt them and make them known to him? to professor hinata? the very object of your forbidden affections?

“it’s okay. it’s okay. i’m being serious, it’s alright. there’s no need to freak out.” his words cut into the blinding flurry of thoughts in your head. “talk to me, here. you good?”

you nod frantically, forcing a deep breath in through your nose. “i’m fine. i’m okay, i promise. i… please ignore what i just said.”

he retracts his hand. he swallows, and you can see his adam’s apple bob underneath the neckline of his turtleneck sweater. you should know better than to look into his eyes again, not when every time looking into his face spelled trouble for you, but when you stare up at him helplessly, he looks nothing like the bubbly, carefree professor you knew.

his pupils are blown wide open, and there’s a kind of intensity settling inside of his eyes that you’ve never seen before. his lips are parted just slightly, like he’s about to say something but the words are caught on the tip of his tongue. a shiver tiptoes down your spine. he looks like a man haunted, the once cordial candlelight-esque brown of his irises running big and reckless like a wildfire. 

you don’t recognize this side of him, but you don’t dislike it either. you lick your lips quickly, suddenly aware of your extremely dry mouth.

he lets out a deep exhale through his nose. “...i need you to listen to me.”

“i am,” you squeak back. your mind flashes back to minnie, to your superstar queen bee of a roommate. how would she navigate something like this? knowing her, she would navigate this gracefully. she could probably play it off as a joke and laugh around with professor hinata. she could bat her eyelashes and charm him, maybe pass this off as a bit of awkward flirting and walk away scot free. you’ve never had the same social grace that she manages to pull off so effortlessly. 

“i… i apologize if i’m reading too much in between the lines.” he sounds strained, as if he’s holding a part of him back. his eyes are locked onto you, honed in as if you’ll skirt away out of his sight. “but i don’t think either of us can ignore whatever it is we have going on. i want to make myself clear here. i am your professor, and you are my student. the mature, responsible thing for me to do as your instructor is to ignore your remark and to move on. if that is what you want, then i will let you walk out of my office. we can pretend nothing happened. everything that happened here stays between us.”

you pause, and you wring your hands together. you know that that’s the choice you should take. that your relegated role in this song and dance is to be the good kid and to never stray away from your place as a nobody bookworm with good grades and nothing special. and yet your mouth moves, “...is there another option?”

he clenches his jaw. he has to be at his limit, just as much as you are. you see the edge in his eyes, flaring like sparks, waiting for you to touch and him to come away burned. you don’t care. you’re hurtling straight at the point of no return, and you’re burning up, beautiful and flaming and waiting to be consumed into nothingness.

“i… we take care of this whole thing. but i want to make sure you want this as much as i do. i hope you understand the gravity of what this means for both of us. it’s very, very wrong for a teacher and a student to be in love with each other.” professor hinata takes a big breath in, and he shoves his hand through the wild tufts of his orange hair. “but if you are insistent on pursuing this route with me, so long as you’re willing to accept your responsibility, then…” 

he stops, and he whispers the last part, barely and only loud enough for your ears, “...i can’t say that i can refuse you.”

your hands curl into decisive fists in your lap. so this is where you are. these are the conditions that life has mercilessly thrown at your feet. your heart and brain are at odds with each other. your mind screams at you to think of your future, that your life would certainly be ruined if anyone would find out that you had an illicit relationship with your professor. and what about him? it would spell a certain social death for him too if he were to be found out.

but your heart begs. you’ve ignored its cries for basically your entire life now, always picking the expected thing, pushing down your own wants in exchange for the security and the safety of a quiet life. this is one time in your life that you’ve truly wanted something, truly yearned for it with your entire existence. how is it fair to deny this from yourself? haven’t you given enough up? you gave up sociability when making friends with minnie, gave up a chance at normalcy when breaking up with your ex, and now love with professor hinata?

“i know there’s a right answer, professor hinata,” you hang your head. uneasiness claws at your ribcage, but the desire bubbling up inside of you hurts even more. “but i’m sorry. i don’t think i have it in me to be good anymore.”

he waits a beat, and the silence hangs above you like the weight of a million sins. the laugh he lets out is airy, relieved. “i was hoping you’d say that. well… come here. let me have you.”

you don’t know how you don’t trip over your own feet as you get up. you walk over to him as if in a trance, looking down at your professor with shaking eyes. he looks so confident as he grins up at you, legs spread slightly in that old office chair of his, every part of him just as inviting and tempting as the day you first laid eyes on him.

you’re practically crawling into his lap, and his strong arms are around you. his mouth is instantly on yours, and you gasp, the feeling of soft lips consuming you entirely. this wasn’t your first kiss by a long shot, but it was your first kiss with him. and god, it was everything those stupid romance movies made a kiss out to be: electric, addictive, leaving you dizzy and giddy and reeling in his embrace.

you’re glad he’s there to hold you. you place your hands shyly on his chest, warmth pooling in your stomach when you can feel the strong tension of his muscles. you never realized you were this downright touch starved, basically melting into putty in his hands as he kisses you over and over again, the hushed sounds of your lips locked together and breathless pants filling the room. 

your head spins. this must be the charm of an experienced lover. his touches mold into yours, adjusting to you and making you feel as if you can put your trust wholly into him. his tongue laps at your lips, and you let him in, let him swirl his tongue deep into your mouth. you feel so full on the inside, your chest swelling with everything you’re repressed coming out now in droves. his tongue moves around yours, and your ears drink up the lewd sounds of your french kissing. 

his hands grasp at you firmly, memorizing your touch and the way your body feels under his palms. his thick thighs make for the perfect seat, and you cling to him as he kisses you. making out with him feels like an eternity but also as if no time has passed at all, whisked away into the special place meant solely for lovers, sincerely lost in your own world with him. he feels so good around you and under your skin, even better than the fleeting fantasies you might allow yourself to have.

a strand of saliva connects the two of you when he pulls away from you finally. your chest heaves as you gulp down oxygen, your fingertips shaking as you curl them into the soft fabric of his sweater. 

“you…,” he gasps, unable to tear his eyes away from your clearly shaken form, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that to you.”

heat nestles deep inside your stomach. it’s wicked and possessive, but you want to be special to him. and now you know that you are, your desire to have more of him is insatiable. something throbs and pulses within your core, and it’s pitiful just how weak you are to him after a handful of well-executed kisses. fuck having any kind of stupid romance with some dumb college boy your age: none of them could even dream of leaving you this stunned and your body itching for literally anything more.

you grasp at him. “please- please, more- kiss me again… i need it- i need more-”

“-shhh, i’ve got you, pretty.” he moves in so close to your face, his lips only a breath away from yours. you’ve never had someone kiss you so carnally before, his desire emanating off of him in thick waves. you’re probably no better, begging for your hot professor to make out more with you as if his tongue wasn’t down your throat mere seconds ago and as if it isn’t his spit that’s coating your lips thickly. 

it feels right. there’s no other way for you to describe him kissing you again. his lips move so gently against yours and yet brims with a kind of brutish need. it’s like he doesn’t want to scare you away but can barely contain himself, not when he has you right where he wants you. you don’t mind. you want him to be greedy, and you want him to take you wholly. 

you’re so happy, and you love it when his tongue is in your mouth, guiding your clumsy movements. it’s lewd kissing you’ve only seen couples do through the drunken haze of some seedy frat basement during a crazy party or in a raunchy porn video, and you get it. it finally clicks inside your head why people go crazy for these kinds of things, why people lose their minds when they’re unable to fully get a grasp over their own sexual needs. it’s like an awakening for you, as if some monster that had been caged in your heart is now breaking free of its restraints.

you moan shamelessly into professor hinata’s mouth. you need more. just kissing isn’t enough, only having his tongue in your mouth isn’t enough. the pounding between your hips won’t go away, and if anything, it’s getting worse with each passing second. he’s turning you on, and your body refuses to listen to you. but why should you hold back? he’s right there for you, and you’re willing to give yourself to him without any room for regret.

“please-,” you sound so needy, so desperate, so unlike any part of the removed personality you kept around your professor. “touch me more… i need you, professor-”

“-don’t call me that,” he whispers against your mouth. “shoyo. call me shoyo. i’m not your professor right now.”

“shoyo,” the name tastes like sticky sweet honey against your mouth, “touch me, shoyo.”

his hands snake down to your waist, and he looks at you expectantly as his fingertips slip under your shirt. you shudder when his fingertips press firmly into your skin and flesh, like a reminder of what you’re getting yourself into. “good girl. do you want me to go all the way with you right now?”

“yes! god, please, yes- shoyo, take me.” you bury your head into the crook of his neck. his calming scent floods your nose, and you think you’re going into heat. “i’ve never needed someone more in my life.”

something hard presses up against your crotch. he grunts, “that’s a dangerous thing to say to me.”

you let him lift your shirt away from your body, coaxing it gently over your head before tossing it somewhere onto his office floor. your body heats up, blood pumping under your skin. you prickle slightly against the cold office air, and you bite down a bit on your tongue. his hands crawl up the expanse of your stomach and up to your chest, and he looks at you as if he’s been starved.

“god, you drive me crazy,” he breathes. your voice catches somewhere in the back of your throat. you can feel the warmth of his palms hovering over your breasts, the thin fabric of your bra doing nothing to protect you from him. “to think you’ve been hiding from me this entire time, right under my nose…”

you gasp when he gropes you through your bra, his hands molding against your breasts. you fill his palms out so easily, and you grind down against his lap, sparks flying inside of your mind. you grip onto him again, breathing needily against the crook of his neck as he plays with your chest, letting you adjust to the feeling of his heavy hands on your body. 

he touches you so sweetly and so beautifully. not like the clumsy horny ways boys your age would, but with confidence and reverence, like he purposefully wants to take his time with you. you whimper when his fingers hook into the cups of your bra, and you let him yank it down to fully free your chest. 

your pussy throbs when his hands are on your bare breasts. he massages the soft flesh, chuckling softly whenever he hears you keen and choke out a breath into his neck. his fingers find your nipples quickly, and heat flares under your cheeks and inside your gut when he pinches at them gently, your body reacting faster to his touch than your mind can.

you grind down onto his lap, feeling his hard bulge in between your thighs. you need more, need something inside you. 

he grits his teeth when he feels you trying to hump his clothed cock. “careful, sweetheart. i’m trying to take my time with you.”

his hands move to your back, fully undoing your bra and letting it drop forgotten to the floor. you don’t care. you want him all over your body. you want his calloused hands all over your tits, pinching and teasing your nipples, filling out his hands with your breasts, like your body was made to match his. 

“i know-,” you sound shaky. you are shaky, barely holding yourself together. you clench your eyes shut as he plays with your tits again. pleasure surges downwards every time he plays with your sensitive nipples, rubbing his fingertips into them or just letting the skin-to-skin contact get to your head. “i just- i can’t- i can’t control myself anymore, shoyo-”

“i got you, i got you,” he laughs. if only you could know his own madness, the insanity that runs rampant in his mind knowing that he can have you in any way he wants. “shit, and i thought i’d take it slow. be a good gentleman for you. clearly that isn’t making the cut.”

you let out a small shriek as he lifts you from his lap, and the next thing you know, you’re slumped over his desk. your bare chest is against the cold wood of his workspace, and he hovers above your back, your ass against his crotch. you whimper into his desk, and your breath fogs up against the polished wood.

your cunt clenches painfully around nothing as he grinds his hips into your ass, his erection rubbing all over your thighs and butt. your saliva pools inside your mouth when you hear him groan and buck his hips into you, mimicking the motions of penetrative sex as he drinks up the friction. his hands hold firmly at your hips and waist, anchoring himself to your body.

he doesn’t need to do much. if you can already feel him this prominently, just how big was his dick? 

“i-i can feel so much of you already.” you glance back at him. the thrums of arousal inside you are almost unbearable. you don’t feel like yourself, only like a husk of person fiending for release. 

“yeah?” his grip on you tightens slightly, and he peers down at you. “fuck- have you had sex before? is this your first time?”

“no, it isn’t- i’ve had sex before- with a few guys on campus and mostly with my ex…,” you trail off, not wanting to think about it any further. “it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t count.”

he chuckles, shaking his head at your small joke. “can you feel how hard i am? how big i am?”

“yes,” you exhale. you want him inside you. you want him to take your pants off already and stick his cock inside your cunt. you want him to make a mess out of your insides, to take the weeks of pent up lust and to let it loose. you want your pussy to be ravaged by him, for him to not stop until you’re a wreck underneath him. “so big… i want it so bad…”

“am i bigger than your ex?” it’s a question posed dangerously, a blade wrapped in cloth. you dip your face down so that your forehead touches the wood. you nod shakily, glad that you have his desk to hold onto for support so that your knees don’t give out. 

he smirks. the ends of his mouth curl upwards into a cruel smile. it’s the satisfaction of a predator right as it’s about to sink its teeth into its prey, relishing the sadistic thrill of knowing that his influence, that his power remains on top.

“forget everything about that boy,” he spits the last word, as if it’s something bitter. “you feel me? feel this cock? yeah, i know you do. this is how big a real man’s cock is.”

you might as well have had the wind knocked out of you. his hands make their way to your pants, and you move with him, letting them fall by your ankles. your panties follow suit, and you’re left shivering with anticipation against his desk, fully naked. nothing can protect you from his wandering eyes now, and while you can’t see him, you can feel his gaze boring into your exposed cunt. 

you can feel how wet you are, your imagination doing the most in making you feel like you were going to overheat while making out with him. your slick drips out of your hole, and your cunt weeps, begging for something to fill you up and get rid of that incessant ache in your belly.

“turn over,” he commands you. any sense of the warm professor you used to shirk around is gone, replaced by an intensity entirely foreign to you. you comply, and you gasp when shoyo sinks down to his knees. his hands are on your knees, and he pries your legs apart to slot himself. you’re fully laying on his desk at this point, and his face is mere inches away from your hole.

“i-...” you don’t know what to say. you feel like you’re going to choke on your own breath, embarrassment at having a man so close to your pussy threatening to consume you whole. 

shoyo, on the other hand, is utterly entranced. the sight of your bare cunt has him bewitched. his cock throbs painfully inside of his pants. the little tease he got from you trying to grind down on him and then rubbing himself against your ass has done nothing but wet his appetite, and he knows how much he’s been waiting painstakingly for this moment.

your voice dies out in the back of your throat when he grabs your thighs, and before you know it, his mouth is on your cunt. he kisses your pussy, and you nearly buck your hips into his mouth. his tongue laps in between your lower lips sensually, coating his mouth in as much of your juices as he can. his grip on you is firm, making sure that you can’t wiggle away from him. he wants you to feel every single second of him eating you out, make sure you feel his tongue against every part of your hole.

his tongue captures your clit, swirling slowly around the sensitive bud. you clench your eyes shut, and the first shockwaves of pleasure shoot straight to your brain. “ah- shoyo- fuck-!”

he keeps kissing and sucking at your clit, determined to shower you with so much attention. he takes his time. he flicks the tip of his tongue against the bud, leaving you recoiling against the cool material of his desk, and he presses the broad of his tongue against it, letting you grind down how you want into his mouth. he mimics your movements, and you’re left gasping and mewling when he moves down. teasing your clit turns into broad licks up your slit, and your thighs shake and threaten to close around his head if it weren’t for his firm grip on you.

his tongue circles your hole, and he smirks into you when he can feel you quiver and clench around him. he’s snaking himself all over your cunt, lavishing each part of your pussy with a good dosage of love and spit. every time he drags his tongue against your slit, threatening to slip into your hole but not quite, you’re left reeling in the aftermath. you need something inside you, anything. you’re so horrendously turned on, and as much as the clitoral stimulation has you seeing stars, you need more.

“shoyo…” god, he loves it when you moan out his name. he just can’t get enough of the way the syllables roll off of your tongue, and you choke out his name, elongated the sound and clinging to his name as if he’s the only thing you’ve ever known. 

your pussy continues to drool for him, and he’s smacking his lips, drinking up every drop of your juices as if he can’t get enough. it’s a perfect reminder of how much he wants you. he thinks you’re perfect, a gift sent down from whatever divinity might be out there, hand-crafted to take his love and to love him in return. you taste heavenly on his tongue, your slick coating his mouth thickly. with each swallow, it’s like you’re becoming a part of him, and it makes him dizzy.

you tremble under his touch. he keeps capturing your clit the way you like it best. he teases you, lets you feel pleasure. the pleasured hums of his voice vibrate against your clit, constantly stimulated by his tongue and lips. the throngs of arousal inside your gut keep mounting, growing, twisting and coiling it on itself, keeling to be freed, to be let loose so you can cum all over his mouth as if you’ve lost all control of your body.

“feels good-,” your breathing shakes as you reach down, grabbing a fistful of his bright orange hair. the man moans in such a depraved manner against you, and you clench painfully, your pussy feeling as if it’s contorting into a way physically impossible from how sheerly aroused you are. “make me cum, please! ‘m so close- wanna cum- wanna cum in your mouth, shoyo…! you’re making me feel so good!”

“yeah?” he detaches himself momentarily. he licks his lips and swallows, chest heaving at your sweet taste overwhelming all of his senses. his brain is screaming for him to fuck you, but he doesn’t want to. he wants to see you feel good from just his mouth first, to coax one orgasm out of you so that your nerves are properly awakened. that would make fucking your pussy out on his cock so much more worthwhile. “am i making you feel good, pretty girl? enough to beg for it?”

you nod feverishly, even though you should know that he can’t see you. your drenched pussy speaks enough for itself. he’s too good at this, the experience under his belt shining through. there’s no stupid boy your age that would even think of doing you a courtesy like eating you out until you’re shaking, and here’s shoyo, eagerly lapping at your cunt without you even needing to ask. 

“cumming- gonna cum- please, please, fuck…! your tongue feels so good- love it so much when you lick at me like that…,” you whimper. your back arches against the desk, and your body twitches, wanting to ride his tongue and make a mess all over his mouth. shoyo doesn’t stop his relentless movements, and he continues to suck at your clit. 

arousal curls and unfurls like a pulse deep inside your stomach. you’re teetering on the edge, and you feel like you’re going crazy. your mind is turning into jelly, your wildest fantasies about your professor coming true right before your eyes, and your pussy can’t take everything happening to you. you shut your eyes again, gritting your teeth and bracing yourself for the orgasm that you’re sure is going to slam into you like a brick wall.

his tongue slithers expertly against your drenched cunt, and he presses a sticky kiss to your clit. your stomach curls inward at the intimate touch, with him pleasuring you as if it's his given duty as your lover, and that’s all it takes.

“shoyo!” you cry out, your thighs nearly wrenching themselves out of his hands. “i’m cumming- fuck! fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck-...! fuck me, fuck me, please! ah- i’m cumming…!”

he keeps on pressing his mouth all over your pussy as you cum on his mouth. red hot pleasure floods your entire body, sweeping you away from head to toe, and your thighs quiver like mad. your body feels so hot, so overwhelmed by a pleasure you’ve never had before, and your vision spins. you can’t think, not when every inch of your body has been tossed into overdrive so effortlessly by him, and your inner walls twist achingly. 

you wish it was his cock you were cumming on. you’re breathless and succumbing to how good it feels to have your hole ravished by his mouth, and he eats you out through your orgasm. he’s determined to swallow up every drop of your slick, and it’s not until you’re whimpering again and pushing his forehead back weakly that he detaches himself from between your legs.

“shit, you taste so fucking sweet,” shoyo groans. he sounds almost disappointed that you pushed him off of you, your slit tingling and desperate for something bigger. the lower half of his face is shiny with your juices and spit mingling together, and he licks his lips, making sure not to let a single drop escape him. “fuck- i could eat you out all day if you’d let me. pretty girl’s got a pretty pussy too.”

your hole flutters in excitement at his praise. heat and embarrassment at the sudden intimacy flickers underneath your face, and your head is still buzzing, not fully done with your sexual high. your chest rises and falls as you rest on his desk, splayed out for him to admire as he gets up from his knees and undoes pants. you can hear the shuffling of fabric and metal as he takes off his belt and pants. your mouth goes dry as you think about his cock and how big it felt when the two of you were grinding and humping each other for a split second, and now you’re finally getting him to fuck you on it.

he lets out a low, throaty moan as he takes the last of his clothing off, and his cock is nice and hard, drops of pearly pre-cum dripping from his tip. he’s aroused that it hurts, but there’s something about seeing you still recoiling from your orgasm, the rush of pride he gets knowing that he got you off using just his mouth, makes the pain of waiting a bit longer to fuck you so much more worth it.

“how are you feeling? you doing okay?” he asks you. he grabs his cock, stroking himself a few times from base to tip, his thumb sliding over his sensitive slit to spread his pre-cum all over himself. you nod wordlessly, starting to come back down to your plane of reality as you let him slide himself in between your legs again.

you freeze when you feel his cock against your slit, and he rubs himself up and down in between your lower lips. the dull pangs of arousal are bubbling up in your gut once more, and your slick is mixing with his pre-cum to coat his cock in a makeshift kind of lube.

“d-do you have any condoms…?” you eke out. it’s his bare dick against your body right now, and as intoxicating as the thought of taking him raw and letting him stuff every inch of your womb with his cum is, you still have to think straight.

he grabs at your hips, bringing himself flush against your body. a moan catches in the back of your throat when his tip grazes against your sensitive clit, and he chuckles to himself when he sees you twitch. “not at the moment. i’ll take care of you. can you trust me?”

there’s a lump in your throat, and some deeply dead part of you sobs out that you should be responsible. but you don’t care, not when you’re this close to finally having him inside you, not when he promises to take responsibility for you. you move your head, unable to fully meet his eyes, and you nod your head yes.

“good girl,” he laughs sweetly. “you ready for me?”

“yes! please, i want you inside me… want you to fuck me…,” you whine, your head lolling onto the desk underneath you. your pussy clenches at the thought of his raw bare cock rubbing against your insides, your walls clinging to every inch of his thick cock, and you’re so, so ready to take him.

he grips the base of his cock, and he lines himself up. he watches, enraptured, as your hole pulses around his cockhead. you groan needily as he fucks his tip in and out of you, just to watch your pussy cling to him, wanting to pull him in fully. you’re just about to whine and complain when he finally pushes himself in, and your breathing dies out in your chest as your walls stretches out to adjust to him being inside you.

“...fuck-! ah- you’re so big-,” your voice immediately starts slurring as he pushes past the resistance. it burns yet it feels deathly euphoric to have something stretching you out like that, to feel every bit of your pussy being invaded and stuffed out onto shoyo’s girthy cock. you’re coaxing him in effortlessly, and his fingers curl into the flesh of your waist and hips as he tries to ground himself.

he sucks in a harsh inhale through his gritted teeth, his eyebrows furrowing. you’re so tight and wet and downright heavenly wrapped around his length. he can’t stop looking between your legs, right where the two of you are joined together for the first time, but you’re squeezing and fluttering around him just right even though all he did was put it in. it’s taking all of his concentration not to waver and lose himself in the feeling. 

jerking off desperately by himself doesn’t even come close to how good your pussy feels. he could stay like this forever, feeling your velvety walls pulse around him, wanting to pull his cock in even further until he swears his tip is kissing the entrance to your womb. he takes in a deep breath, and he does his best to clear his head so he can start fucking you properly. 

“you’re so fucking tight… shit, did you want my cock that badly?” he manages out shakily. “fuck, it’s like your pussy’s milking me already, sweetheart.”

“mhm… it’s so, so big…,” you murmur, dazed. “never- never had cock like this before- you’re filling me up… feels like you’re in my stomach.”

“yeah? does it feel good?” he’s waiting for you to give him the all clear. your face is scrunched up, and as desperate as he is to start fucking into you like an animal, he knows better than to be a ruffian. your pleasure always comes first. that’s what real men do.

you nod weakly for what feels like the millionth time. your nerves are on fire, your previous orgasm only accentuating how much you can feel him pressed against you. his cock rubs just right against your sensitive walls, and you can’t imagine what actually having him thrusting into you is going to do to your body. “yes- so good- i’m gonna lose my mind, shoyo…”

“good answer.” he reaches over to move a strand of your hair away from your face. “i’m gonna start moving, okay? if something hurts or doesn’t feel right, you tell me right away. i’m here to make you feel good, and nothing else.”

your heart skips a beat. in a sea of fuckboys and idiot college boys that couldn’t care less about your well-being, someone like him feels less like a real person and more like a character straight from a fairy tale. “okay- you can fuck me- i want you to fuck me.”

he draws his hips back and thrusts slowly into you. you gasp, acutely aware of the sensation deep inside of you. your pussy revels at how he rubs against you, gripping onto his cock for dear life as he fucks his length in and out of you. it’s such a painfully slow pace, but you savor the feeling, savor the new stimulus of having your professor’s cock buried deep inside you. you want to commit to memory, because it’s unlike anything you’ve ever had before.

heat flares back up inside your belly again, settling and slithering in repeated coils between your hips. your vision blurs once more, and arousal creeps back into your mind, threatening to overtake every single one of your conscious thoughts. “faster, shoyo- wanna feel more of you- you’re torturing me…!”

“sorry- i can’t help it,” he laughs bitterly, his voice hushed and under his breath. “can you blame me for being obsessed with you? fuck- you’re so tight, hugging me like this… it’s like you were made to take me.”

your stomach curls in on itself at the sweet praise. you hate how easily he toys with your heart, how easily he can make you swoon and fall for him all over again, leaving you dancing and squirming right underneath the palm of his hand. literally. you swallow deeply, and it feels like there’s no inch of your body that the unbearable heat hasn’t spread to. 

“faster, please- i need you so bad!” you sob, nearing your limit. cumming from his tongue was only an appetizer, and you’re hungry for more. you’ve starved yourself long enough, and his slow pace isn’t doing any favors for you. you roll your head left and right on his desk, unable to control yourself.

“you want it? prove it to me.” his voice drops a few notes, and your cunt unconsciously clenches at how dark his words sound. it’s yet another potent reminder of the man buried inside of you right now, a real man who’s determined to make you his, prince and criminal, craved and craving, dreamy and filthy all at once. “look me in the eye then. look me dead on as i fuck you.”

you let out a loud moan. his words are fucking dirty, and when he rolls his hips into you, drinking up the excruciatingly addictive way your pussy clings to his dick, you think your body is actually going to give out on you. it’s not like he’s asking for you to do anything obscene or impossible, but there’s something so disgustingly erotic and intimate about him asking you to look him straight in his face—in his eyes—as he makes love to you.

the desk is warm underneath your body, all warmed up thanks to your body heat. it’s become your subconscious refuge, taking all of your thrashing as he had his way with you, and you don’t want to think about the sure mess you’re bound to leave in your wake. your breathing trembles as you forcibly turn your face towards his, ripping your wavering gaze away from the safety of whatever else you were staring at.

your eyes meet his, and he smiles at you adoringly. there’s no more running away from him, nowhere to escape to, your eyes locked together and dancing in his pupils. you’re rendered breathless again at the vibrant color, like your own life is being squeezed from between your lips. you can’t move, and your chest feels like it’s about to cave in on itself, your ribs giving out and your heart melting into a puddle of useless muscle and putty. but this time, strangely enough, you welcome the helpless feeling. he’s got you wrapped around his pinky finger, and you finally realize that you never stood a chance. 

that very first day, in that fatefully empty classroom, when you first met eyes with him, you were a fucking goner. you always were. always had been. and it was all his fault, all professor hinata’s fault. 

all hinata shoyo’s fault. 

“good girl.” he looks at you in a way only a lover would. his eyes soften around the edges and crinkles up as he grins. “don’t ever look away from me.”

“i won’t,” you promise. it’s the last thing you could dream of doing. not when you want it so badly, and not when he’s asking you verbatim. how could you deny him of the very thing he’s asking you to do? especially when it’s something that you’ve always been mustering up the courage to do? this is your big leap forward, your chance to prove to yourself that you can change.

he leans forward, and he lets you wrap your arms around his neck. you refuse to drop your gaze from his face, admiring every small detail of his features and letting yourself drown fully in the wide expanses of his eyes. he presses one last romantic kiss to your mouth, and that’s the last warning you get, the last bit of sweetness and gentleness you get. 

he draws his hips back, and he slams himself back into you roughly. you choke out a small moan, pleasure flooding your head. he doesn’t give you any time to recover from the recoil before he’s thrusting wildly back into you again. your hole is already slick and dripping wet from his teasing and your previous climax, and it makes it all the more easy for him to slide his length in and out of you, pace picking up speed and leaving you crying out as your surprise quickly morphs into electric pleasure.

“shit- so fucking tight- god, you’re going to kill me,” he grunts. you mewl and moan incoherently, clinging to him for dear life as he fucks into you over and over again. his tip prods against your deepest parts, and surges of pleasure climb all over your nerves. his hips slam against yours, and his balls slap against the curve of your ass. lewd, wet lovemaking noises echo throughout the small office, and it echoes even louder against your ears. 

it feels good, it feels so good. you never knew pleasure like this was possible, that it even existed. you thought you knew everything there was to sex already, but clearly not, if shoyo has you practically melting in his arms, your limbs numb and surrendering wholly to how good he’s making you feel. your walls keep fluttering around him, and every thrust has you crying out. 

“fuck- you feel so good- shoyo- shoyo, i’m losing my mind…!” you gasp. your nails dig into his back, and you claw at him like a feral cat. your thighs quiver around his hips, but he doesn’t let up his brutal pace. with each roll of his hips, it feels like he’s knocking the wind out of you. he’s determined to fuck you stupid, and it’s working. your grip on reality is slipping fast, with the throbbing pleasure in your head taking precedence over everything.

“go crazy for me then. you feel me inside you, don’t you? good. then you can feel firsthand how fucking crazy you make me.” he grabs your hips, and he angles them ever-so-slightly before ramming into you. you grit your teeth as a tense cry escapes from you.

the new angle has you seeing stars. you’re scratching at his back, your insides lurching and reeling and being stirred up like wild. “you’re so deep… so deep inside me! nnmgh…! you’re gonna make me cum so fast- make me cum again-“

“shit, already? am i fucking you that good?” his stomach is doing flips. you’re a sight for sore eyes, refusing to look away from him as if your life depended on it. his abs strain against him as he enjoys the experience of having sex with you, sex with the student that’s been dancing around him forever. you’re splayed out like a piece of art underneath him: all sweaty, breasts bouncing, legs spread with your soft cunt eagerly taking every inch of him.

your foreheads are basically touching when you nod your head. “yes! no one’s ever made me feel this good before- never had cock like yours-“

he almost laughs. oh, he’s bet you’ve never had anyone like him. what would your ex, your past flings know about pleasing women? all he wanted was to make you go crazy like this. he wants to sink you deep into pleasure, and he wants to make it so that you don’t ever think about other men after he’s done with you. he wants you in your entirety. he can’t do halfway.

“i told you already,” he purrs. his words drip off of his tongue like sticky syrup. “it’s because you’re having sex with a man this time. not with a boy. a real, grown man. someone that can take care of you. someone that can treat you right.”

it’s hard to think. he speeds up, leaving you fighting to keep your eyes open. the intense look in shoyo’s eyes are nothing like your own fucked out look, but at the same time, you’re sure the intoxicated gleam in his is the same as yours. is it love or desire that connects you two?

“most importantly…” his fingers dig into your flesh, securing your hips in place and leaving you at his mercy. you can feel your juices leaking out, coating your ass and making wet sounds whenever his hips smash into yours. he cranes his head, and his lips are almost on top of yours, threatening to close the gap and brush his lips across yours. “someone that can actually fuck you.”

oh fuck. you don’t stand a fucking chance against him. all of the sensations are rapidly racking up in your body, and with how deep he’s thrusting into you, you can barely hold onto yourself. you’re gonna cum soon again, you just know it. you feel the tightness inside your belly, and with how effectively he’s seducing you, whispering all kinds of lewd things and making sure that you keep your eyes locked on him while fucking you, you have nowhere to run away.

“i can’t take it- so rough- can’t take much more-,” you whimper. your mind is going blank, and all that you can think of is him. his body feels heavy and good on top of you, and having you scratch his back out of pleasure only spurs him on. he can feel you slipping and losing control of yourself, and he rocks you close to himself. he wonders if you can feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest, huffing short breaths as he keeps up his steady yet brutal pace.

he looks at you, and a smirk dangles off of his face. “yes, you can. you can take it. i know you can. you’ll be good for me, won’t you? let me make you feel good.”

your breathing hitches. it’s taking all of your mental strength not to topple over the edge right now. everything’s rushing too fast to your head right now, and all of your nerves are standing on edge, enthusiastically lapping up the pure euphoria coursing through your veins. but you want to make shoyo happy, you want to cum together with him, and as much as he said this lovemaking session was about you, you want to be able to match the pace he set.

“for you- just for you-,” you struggle to get the words out, the final syllables slurring together into a slight babble. so much for your usually well-put together, prudent academic facade. any trace of the well-trained, well-behaved student is long gone, replaced by a dirty, senseless, corrupted, and lascivious soul that lives and dies for shoyo’s love. “wanna be good- wanna be good only for you…”

“good. you’re mine. all mine,” he murmurs. the pleasure is sharp and dull all at once, all consuming and delicate, sinking you down into the murky waves inside the recesses of your mind only to drag you back to the surface, leaving you shuddering and grasping as if you had been drowned for real. shoyo likes it. he adores the reactions he gets out of you.

this is a kind of pleasure only he can give you. you’ve never had this with anyone else before, and he’ll make it so that you can’t find it from anyone else, not unless it’s with him. these faces you’re making, twisting in ecstasy and crying out with a voice like a songbird, are for him to enjoy only. they’re exclusive to him, only meant for his eyes, and he consumes it, fiending for more.

“shoyo- can’t- ‘t’s too good- i’m going crazy…!” you strain to breathe, your chest feeling inhumanly tight. parts of your brain light up like wired lights, blooming and flickering. you’re terribly close, and you know this one is going to take you whole and blow out any sense of being in your body. “shoyo- shoyo…”

“fucking christ- if you moan my name like that… you’ll make me want to do horrible things to you. so much more fucking worse than what i’m doing to you right now, sweetheart. this is just the start right here.” something pricks at your hips, and he digs his nails into your hips. he never thought himself to be such a possessive man, but he can’t deny the insanity that’s taken root in his brain for weeks now. it does something to him, to have his dick inside of you but to also hear you calling for him. him, him specifically, his name, emerging from your mouth as if he’s someone you revere. maybe at one point you did, but his yearning to have you turned him into something monstrous and all too human.

but perhaps that same madness overtook you and that was what brought the two of you together. shoyo finds it funny: the idea of something as sacred as love growing from something so depraved. and yet he’s fascinated by it, fascinated by the possibility that you’re no better than him, that your respect for him may just as easily be swapped for a kind of convenience to quell your own heart.

he doesn’t know what it all means. now isn’t the time for him to get philosophical. he’s balls-deep inside the pretty student he’s been pining over, and he’s so close to getting you to cum. wouldn’t that be a better reward than anything else he’s carefully built up? years of self preservation and swallowing down his personal desires for what’s “best” for his future be damned, he wants you. he wants you, he wants, he wants you.

you wonder if this is the end of your rope. you’re so close, so near the edge, and you’re clenching so desperately around his cock. you’re eclipsed entirely by the sight of your frightened and frantic reflection in his wide eyes, and you barely recognize yourself. so this is what you look like when you’re being mercilessly railed by your hot professor. your mouth is agape as you moan out for the male on top of you, face flushed and sweat beading your forehead like some kind of crown. 

“gonna cum- gonna cum! shoyo- just a bit more-” your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. your body isn’t yours at this point, having given up in exchange for the fire that burns your core, the snakes inside your belly hissing and twisting and pulsing. “i’m cumming- gonna cum- i can’t hold back anymore-!!”

“go ahead,” he whispers. his mouth itches to kiss you, to swallow up your wounded gasps. he wants to feel your body go slack again like he had done once before, to push you into that wonderful place where nothing and everything was real at once. he’s sure your body’s overrun with complex sensations and pure euphoria, and he loves watching you turn into a shell of yourself. “cum on my cock, pretty girl. you’ll be mine, won’t you?”

you barely nod your head, and shoyo’s drawing his hips back and snapping them back into you at a particularly rough angle. you tense up underneath him, back arching and limbs going stiff. your eyes widen, gaze still connected with him, and your body fully gives out.

“sh- shoyo…!” your voice is shrill as you sob out one final moan, and your orgasm grips the entirety of your body. it feels good, it aches, it throbs, and it demands so much of you. your velvety walls clamp down on his thick cock like a vice, milking him and clinging to him, and your climax refuses to give shoyo a chance to breathe. he digs his ankles into the ground and keeps thrusting wildly into you, wanting to keep the flare swallowing you up going for a bit longer. he grits his teeth as you squirm underneath him, and you can barely keep your eyes open. you want to clench them shut and throw your head back so bad, but whatever little control you have remaining on your conscious keeps them open, just for him.

you’re fighting against the currents swirling and whirlpooling inside your brain. whatever heat was bottled up inside your body rushes out, and you’re cumming all over shoyo’s girth. he’s keeping you stretched out, and your stomach feels like it’s going to cave in on itself. it’s nothing but pure bliss, the kind that makes you feel as if you’re floating, and you’re rendered breathless, each inhale precious and fleeting and almost incognizant. your vision swims, and tears settle on your waterline, just threatening to topple over. your field of sight is blurry, and yet even amongst all of the chaos, you can make out the dapples of brown in shoyo’s eyes, forever in tandem with him as if he were a planet in orbit around your sun.

you’re gasping for air, finally having gotten the release you had been chasing for what felt like an eternity. shoyo breathes heavily and raggedly, as if he had run a marathon, and he’s barely holding on himself. your insides are fucking massaging him, stroking his cock all over, squeezing and hugging and rubbing all up against his sensitive length.

“shit- fuck-,” he chokes out. fuck- he didn’t expect that seeing you cum would take so much out of him. his mind is teetering, and his muscles strain against him, his abs prominent. you’re refusing to let go of him, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can genuinely hold on for. he should be responsible, at least try to pick up the pieces of the mess that you two made, and pull out, cum into a napkin or a trash can or his hand or literally anywhere inside of your sweet cunt, but whatever resolve inside his chest whimpers as if he’s killing it when the thought brushes against his mind.

he wants to cum inside you. he has to. he needs to go that extra step, cement himself physically into you, promise to take care of you again and again for whatever happens next. he’s a real lover, someone who’ll take all of your brokenness and insecurity and fear and make them dissolve and melt away as if it were sugar. he’s sure they’d be equally as sweet to, so long as it came from you.

“god- fuck- take me- i’ll take care of you- take care of anything that happens next- fuck- just… just stay with me-,” he breathes out, body shaking. a cry catches in the back of your throat when he fucks himself in as deep as he can go, his cockhead pressing right up against your cervix. he buries himself into you, and he leans forward, capturing your lips in one last deep kiss, tongue swirling in your mouth and filling up your senses entirely with him.

your moans are muffled by him when you feel him cum deep inside you. something hot and heavy floods your cunt, pumping into you in generous spurts. it’s warm, and his cock takes on a second pulse inside of you, like a heartbeat as semen trickles into your womb and all through your cunt. your body feels hot, every inch of your pussy drenched and coated with shoyo’s cum. a few stray drops escape from you, but with him pressing his body flush against you and his cock still stuffed inside your cunt, most of the cum remains plugged inside you as he gasps for air, his high overtaking him.

“fuck… fu-uck,” his voice is gruff and airy. “god- you keep fucking milking me- shit, i came inside too- oh god…”

he nearly collapses on top of you, and his chest is on yours. the two of you lay there, breathing deeply and just enjoying the post-sex warmth of each others’ bodies. you’re still buzzing slightly, your head heavy as if you had just woken up from a long nap, but regular feeling is starting to seep back into your limbs. your body is pulling itself out from the haze, and while exhausted and quite literally fucked out of your mind, you’re regaining control over yourself as the minutes pass.

you admire shoyo’s form, the beautiful curves of muscle all over his back and shoulders, the lines on his face that could come only with age. it’s too early for you to worry, too early to really know the true consequences of your actions, and yet, there’s something bittersweet at the tip of your tongue when you look down adoringly at shoyo. morally, you know that this can’t continue. the best course of action you could have taken was to not fuck him, but now that you’ve gone and crossed that bridge, the next best thing you can do is to nip this in the bud and to avoid making a habit of this.

but you already know that you’re not strong enough to do that. you can’t go back, not when you’ve had a taste of everything you’ve already wanted.

you wrap your arms around shoyo a bit tighter, and you hold him closer to your heart. he buries his head into the crook of your neck, the shaky eye contact that you had kept up with him now broken. he inhales deeply and takes in your scent, and you wordlessly both celebrate and mourn everything that had built up and broken in between you and the man you had pined after for so long.

“...i’ll go buy some plan b for you.” he’s the first to break the silence. “there are some napkins in my office that i can clean you up with. you stay put. i… i lost control of myself there, and i don’t want you to strain yourself. do you think you can eat and drink a bit?”

your mind is nowhere near as clear as you’d want it to be, but you rasp out quietly, “yeah. i’m okay.”

“do you have any classes after this? fuck- i lost track of time too. i can write you a note and email whatever professor you have after me. i’m sorry- i really shouldn’t have gotten that carried away.” shoyo peels himself off of your body, and a whimper of protest dies out in your mouth. 

“i don’t have any classes. i’m basically free for the rest of the day, so you don’t need to worry about it. i- uh- i appreciate it though…” your arms feel cold and empty without him, and he maneuvers himself to grab a wad of napkins to position underneath your ass to catch the cum dripping out of you as he drags his now soft cock out.

you simultaneously feel empty and full all at once. his cum still undoubtedly lingers inside you, but without him physically in you, you feel as if something big has been sucked out of your soul. your stream of consciousness meanders to the idea of soulmates, and if this is what it must feel like.

you don’t know how to breach any further though. he’s immediately flipped his professional switch back on, cleaning both of you up without any further words, and you don’t think it’s proper though to keep demanding more from him. in his eyes, this might be nothing more than a bad lapse in judgment and not something he wants to keep pursuing in the same way you want to. 

a lump forms in your throat at the thought, and your heart shakes. your heart physically hurts. it aches and throbs as if it were torn apart, the stringy sinews and muscles begging for at least a bone to be thrown your way.

you hang your head, swallowing your despair back down the best you can. it’s not your place. it’s not your place.

he hands you an unopened water bottle, and you mutter a solemn word of thanks before cracking the lid and gulping a few mouthfuls down. he’s bent over and collecting all of your clothes, mixed together with him, and despite still being naked in front of him, you don’t feel any shame at all. this whole charade shouldn’t have felt as good and guiltless as it does, and you don’t want this to leave on the melancholy note that it is.

but as shoyo slips his sweater back on over his head and adjusts his hair, it’s hard not to mistake his professionalism for distance. you’re aware that you aren’t proper lovers, no boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, but what kind of sane human doesn’t yearn for a sense of connection and reassurance after something so intimate? all you want is to cuddle with him for a few minutes longer, have him smile sheepishly up at you as he peppers kisses onto your face, his big calloused hands holding you firmly.

you set the water bottle down. reality is never as clear cut nor as easy as fantasy is, and at this point, that should be a revelation you’ve carved into your heart by now. you steel your resolve the best you can, the one thing you’ve learned better than any other lesson your painful years of adulthood have taught you, and you reach for your own clothes.

you look messy with your clothes haphazardly thrown on and trepidation clinging like a fog to your psyche, and you’re ready to basically skitter out of his office as you always do and keep your head down until the semester ends. then you’ll be out of his hair and hopefully this would be nothing more than another minor heartbreak for you to get past. 

“where are you going? if you don’t mind staying put for a little bit longer, i’ll go fetch the plan b.” a hand lands on your shoulder as you prepare to leave, and you stop dead in your tracks. you look over, and shoyo looks down at you as if he’s confused. 

you hold your breath. you know better than to hope, and yet the flash of emotion that flies across your chest is undeniable. “you… don’t want me to go?”

his face immediately morphs into a deep frown, and his brows furrow. he looks horrified, as if you had picked out the worst words for the situation and spat them at his feet. “no! of course not. who do you think i am? why would i kick you out right after having sex? after harping on for so long about treating you right? gosh, you think so lowly of me. i was only cleaning up! here, there should be some snacks i keep stashed away in the second drawer over there. i’ll be zippity quick with the plan b run, i promise. get something in your tummy in the meantime, and then we can chat.”

chat? the word dangles above you like a loaded bullet. not everything is some kind of fucked up mental game, but it stuns you how he constantly manages to stay a step ahead you in everything.

you want to ask about what. about the future state of your relationship? about how both of your lives are going to undoubtedly be marked in a different way now because of this? about how the rest of the semester is going to go? about how you might never be able to muster the courage to show your face to society again, depending on how the conversation proceeds? there’s a whole slew of questions waiting to be asked, but when he beams at you, his smile more boyish and endearing than anything else, it’s like he simply melts away all of your anxieties.

it’s downright unfair, the sheer effect he has on you. but you don’t want it to stop, ever. you want him to continue confusing you and amazing you, leaving you questioning yourself and all of your worldviews. you don’t understand him, not one bit, and yet it feels like you know too much, used too much of your wiles to force him into showing his hand and leave both of you at some kind of stalemate. 

“what comes after that then?” that’s all you manage to blurt out amidst all of your fluctuating emotions. you don’t want him to leave, don’t want the beautiful man to slip away from your fingers after you only just got to keep him, no matter how short or necessary it might be. you’re not thinking straight, but what part of any of this came from logical thinking anyway? good behavior only got you so far, and good behavior isn’t going to keep him.

he grins, a smile that could rival sunshine even through your internalized storm. “that’s easy. you said you were free, yeah? i drop you off at home for a little bit so you can properly get cleaned up and get a fresh change of clothes. then i pick you up again, surprise you with a big bouquet of roses, and i buy you a nice dinner. dessert and drinks included. then i drop you back off home, and if you’re down for it, we do that a few times. then, y’know… i ask you out properly on our third or fourth date.”

your heart flutters in your chest. your heart has always been a caged bird, the last part of yourself you could never fully tame. stuffing it in a constricted box and ignoring it has gotten you only so far, and shoyo presses the key to the cage into your hand and coaxes you into unlocking and opening up the impenetrable door. your eyes widen slightly. it’s too early to get your hopes up again, but at the same time, when he’s stating his interest and desire to make something serious out of this, to actually take you on as a proper girlfriend and not as a one time fling, to go the whole nine yards and make it the romantic experience you’ve always wanted deep deep down, you think it’s only fair that you let yourself have this.

after years and years of repression, you’re getting your first reprieve. the first sign of spring after what felt like an unending winter, the long awaited gulp of water after wallowing in the murky depths, the fabled light at the end of the tunnel, a reminder that everything truly isn’t as hopeless as your twisted mind likes to make it, that you’re just as deserving of goodness and love and rightfulness as much as those around you, no matter how vehemently you once denied it against the very wishes of your heart. you’re done stifling your own desires, and while it won’t be something you fix overnight, you’re sure it’s shoyo that drew out those first steps.

“i don’t like ruining the surprise like this, but… i’m sure you don’t mind. still, do me a favor and act surprised when i do bring you flowers and take you out on a dinner date, okay?” he winks at you, laughing to himself. he looks so happy with himself, truly giddy like a boy waiting to ask his crush out. you don’t know how he can go in between being the cool professor you fell for and the man that charmed you so effortlessly, but you aren’t complaining. you want to acquaint yourself with every side there is to shoyo and to fall deeply in love with each and every part of him you discover.

you smile back softly in return. you play the innocent card, and you tilt your head slightly in a show of fake confusion. “don’t worry. date? what date? aren’t you running out to get me just plan b?”

“atta girl. you always catch on quickly. it’s that smart mind of yours,” he laughs again, louder this time. his voice reminds you of bells ringing in the morning sun. each syllable feels like he’s thawing you out, and it’s something to be venerated with every part of your soul. he approaches you to steal a kiss from your lips, and the touch is so sweet and gone too quickly. you want another, but you know he’ll be back soon and you’ll have as many kisses as you’d like, as many as he’d let you have.

he cups your face with one hand, and his thumb rubs over the apple of your cheek. it’s such a gentle touch, and yet it makes you feel weak in the knees, like your body feels a sense of magnetic attraction to him that makes you want him to hold you and nothing else. he leans down ever so slightly, enough so that he can look at you directly in your eyes again.

you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the way he leaves you breathless when he gazes at you, the intense look always leaving you stunned and glued in your place, the same split second that proved to be the first taste of the forbidden fruit. something bristles and hangs in the air, like electricity, and this time, you recognize it to be the anticipation of getting something you’ve wanted, like an excitement gripping at your throat, and the happiness of your heart beating not just for you but for someone else, for the very first time.

shoyo grins at you, at you alone. his eyes twinkle fondly.

“i love you,” he whispers without any trace of doubt in his voice.

your lips move, “i love you too, shoyo.”

you don’t blink. you won’t blink so long as he’s looking at you.

and you swear to never look away from those beautiful, beautiful eyes.

author's note: i owe @thomae a million thank yous for letting me write her idea! thank you thank you thank you so much for letting me bounce all of my ideas off of you and bothering you incessantly about this fic!! it ended up getting a lot longer than i originally intended (×﹏×) but regardless, i hope everyone enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!! (´ ε ` )♡ please stay safe in the new year, and if you enjoyed my writing, you can show your appreciation by donating to the humanitarian cause in gaza!

[pparadiselost]

gonna call it a night here... i still have a lot of work left to do so i'll definitely be moving things around in the next few days!! thank you for your cooperation!! |･ω･)

going to tweak some things so i can have a new layout for the new year!! please bear w me!! (o_ _)ﾉ彡☆

[pparadiselost]

going to tweak some things so i can have a new layout for the new year!! please bear w me!! (o_ _)ﾉ彡☆

[pparadiselost]

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ sweetest treats !!

SHOYOSTAR / THOMAE’S MUTUALS!! ᰔᩚ

last updated: 12.28.23.

ᰔᩚ note for all my lovely mutuals! :

even if we don’t interact or talk a lot, ily and appreciate you n’ your works so so much!!

if you’re not on here OR would like to be removed, please let me know! >_<

— some mutuals may write NSFW / DC content. always check their accounts before reading their works or following!

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ᰔᩚ MUTUALS ; A-D!

01. amira! ( pastelle-rabbit )

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15. dréysie! ( ryovie )

11. dria! ( driaswrld )

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ᰔᩚ MUTUALS ; E-F!

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03. embla! ( squ1dyz )

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05. fatima! ( teamatsumu )

ᰔᩚ MUTUALS ; I-L!

01. isa! ( stopisa )

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03. kazemi! ( zorosprincess )

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06. kie! ( sluttsumu )

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08. kiri! ( bioticlaw )

09. kit! ( ktsumu )

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11. kurisu! ( tetsuskei )

12. lan! ( q1ngqve )

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17. lily! ( bachibabe )

18. lottie! ( pparadiselost )

19. lu! ( atsumwah )

20. lumi! ( koucaine )

ᰔᩚ MUTUALS ; M-P!

01. maeby! ( maeby-cursed )

02. mai! ( lovedazai )

03. mai! ( titancanvas )

04. manon! ( suashii )

05. mari! ( bokutone )

06. maria! ( 310802 )

07. maria! ( petriquors )

08. meri! ( miyadori )

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15. oak! ( rinneverse )

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ᰔᩚ MUTUALS ; R-T!

01. rika! ( ushiwhacka )

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08. selene! ( mymegumi )

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12. sole! ( getoso )

13. sosa! ( diorsbrando )

14. rin! ( rishiguro )

15. tallulah! ( antizenin )

16. tara! ( sunshinetoshi )

17. trophe! ( hiperacid2 )

18. tuva! ( piichuu )

ᰔᩚ MUTUALS ; V-Z!

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