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The Lewd Rituals of a Typical Day // Our precious #6

The Lewd Rituals of a Typical Day. (Our precious #6)

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Pairing: main - Park Seonghwa x Reader. Side - Reader x Jeong Yunho, Reader x Kang Yeosang

Warning (for all parts): smut, hardcore smut, soft dom!seonghwa, dom!yunho, dom master!yeosang, sub!reader/slave!reader, breast stimulation, teasing, biting and marking, DD/LG, seonghwa has a feeding kink (does not overlap with fat fetish), praise kink, food play, unprotected sex, fingering, cock warming, thigh riding, nipple play, bits of master-slave dynamic, rough sex, manhandling, cum play/cum shot, dirty talk/degradation (just know yunho has a filthy mouth), size training (vaginal), etc.

Note: do not proceed if you're uncomfortable or triggered by any aforementioned tags. Feeding kink/feedism can be triggering for some people, if that's the case, please do not engage or skip over the beginning parts. I apologise, I had no ill intentions with this. To avoid boredom, this time i decided to divide this chapter into four parts, each part with each pair. Not proofread.

Gist: it's the weekend and you finally get the time to spend it with your so called "boyfriends".

Total Word Count: n/a

Part One [6.1]: Feed Me Please, Daddy - Park Seonghwa x Reader.

Word Count: 13,354

Song Rec: In The Trees by Stalgia

Taglist: @t3kandson @therealcuppicake @sebastianswhore13

Reliving some moments can be detrimental, some can be joyous, while some can be a mix of both. You weren't sure where exactly you were leaning to in this particular moment. Or maybe, your approach was more of a two-fold interpretation than concluding all at once. Staring into the deep brown eyes of the person you were least likely to be interested in, was a moment of deja vu you resented living in, despising every passing second of it. In the much steeper part of your stomach, you were starting to sense the underlying distraught creeping up your gut. As one might wonder why you'd be so invested in this particular case, but to your own acknowledgment, you knew you were being stubborn.

There was no way you were backing down from this; you couldn't look away either, not when he's been waiting on the chance to watch you lose. In sullen silence which pertains the more you hold onto your stupidity, you have yourself comfortably perched on the kitchen counter while the subtle sounds coming from the balcony fill up any unnecessary noise between you two. Mingi was at it again, not once wavering in his motive to make you feel small with his broad shoulders or his bulging bare arms as he held them across his chest. A deleterious glint sits in his eyes. He stood at a distance from you, studying the curves of your body and how it was capable of fitting in the space on the kitchen counter next to the stove. You, on the other hand, are trying to condole with your hammering heart; it was no surprise, even to yourself, to know you were attracted to Mingi. If you got the chance, you'd pounce upon him and act out all the fantasies you deliberately hide from everyone. If only Mingi was allied to you the way others were. Sadly, that's not how it worked, did it?

A few hours after the break of dawn, and you're forced to have a ruthless encounter with him. Mingi had just woken up, judging from his bed hair and the way it was tousled, besides he was still dressed in his night clothes. The white tank top which hugged his body like a second skin had an assortment of stains on them. Some prominent, some faded; they were probably stains from food. Though, you were deeply infatuated with Mingi's personality, you equally reviled it too. If not, your somber morning would've never been blighted by his rueful gaze or his inanely gracious satire. You'd be a fool to think you'd have a normal morning for once; waking up to Seonghwa's voice was the ultimate rapture of your significant morning, and then he had asked to you meet him in the kitchen so he could prepare breakfast for you before everyone's awake. And to your satisfaction, everyone slept-in on a Saturday. Obviously.

Really, you'd be a fool to pass on that opportunity. Groggy with sleep, you somehow managed to drag yourself out of the nimble futon you slept on, brushed your teeth and carried yourself to the kitchen. The nifty oversized shirt on your body, the one which you had borrowed from Jongho last night, clung too close to you to expose your curves and godly figure; seamlessly you had booty shorts under your shirt, which had no point in wearing because the shirt covered most of your skin till your mid thighs. When you were ushered into the kitchen by the heavenly scent of coffee and your own enthusiasm, Seonghwa had been sipping on his morning coffee, his favourite mug in his hand and a doleful haze of sunshine in his eyes; everything was wonderful when alongside Seonghwa, you had your morning coffee too and engaged yourself in a fatuous conversation with him. Until Mingi walked in, half-asleep and Seonghwa excused himself to the balcony to get himself some freshly harvested coriander for the breakfast he had planned ahead. You had just gotten comfortable on the counter, as on Seonghwa's suggestion who thought it'd be a great idea for you to watch him cook.

So, now you're here. Waiting on Mingi's derisive comment to wrung you out like one would do to their wet towel. All this could've been avoided if Mingi hadn't woken up to get himself a bottle of water, or if you had just let it go after your eyes met with him.

"I don't remember the last time I had walked into the kitchen, and you weren't there," Mingi spits, spitefully enough to let his tone prick you like a thorn. "But you know, what? It'd be more surprising if you were actually useful in here."

"Man, you're really obsessed with me, aren't you?" you scoff, swinging your legs off the counter and landing on your feet. "I must be taking up every fraction of your mind, for you to come up with useless remakes and snarks."

"Aww, don't flatter yourself." Mingi smirks, "it's sad you think of me as one of your playthings to be infatuated with you and whatever that is you offer. Quit dreaming, princess. I will never bend to your words or whatever tricks you have up your sleeve."

"You seem very confident about—"

"You two are at it again?" Seonghwa groans, walking in the kitchen with his hands occupied, "how many times have I told you to not bother yourself with him, Angel? Some people aren't worth our attention." He sets the pair of scissors and a bunch of coriander, which he had freshly cut from his thriving garden in the balcony, on the counter and glances at Mingi, "and you, can't you let your differences go? You don't like her, we get it. But that does not validate your curt attitude towards her."

Heaving a sigh, he turns around and faces you, a smile already lilting on his lips, "look, I just want to have my breakfast in peace. You want to argue, bite each other's necks off, or borderline kill each other, do it in your own leisure time. My only request is, please let me eat in concord of my mind."

Mingi couldn't help but scoff, "you know, this would've never happened if you all hadn't allowed her to live with us."

You take offence in what he has to say, but don't voice it out as you usually would; Mingi and you had a bone to pick, you two could never get along no matter what. Though, listening to Mingi sometimes would leave your heart broken. In much simpler way of eluding, Mingi's resentment towards you was a blow to this ornate mirror you would view yourself in, and his words were the scattered pieces of glass ready to plunge deep in your heart. Whiling in the same momentary haze, you're dwelling unreasonably over his injudicious words again. It wouldn't come off as a surprise to anyone but being pampered and taken care of by the seven men in the house, Mingi's hostility always marred your pleasant disposition.

"Mingi," Seonghwa mutters, his tone threatening, "you're crossing the line here."

"Am I? Am I really crossing the line here, Seonghwa?" Mingi mumbles, posing it as a question onto Seonghwa. "I never had a say in this arrangement, yet I respected your decisions and went along with it. Maybe, I shouldn't detest her for what you've done. I should resent you all."

As his words falter to a mere whisper, Mingi shakes his head and turns around; but before he could leave either of you stranded, he glances over his shoulder and adds, "I'll go live with Lani for a couple of weeks. You guys can get comfortable, you know, I won't be around to make you guys awkward..."

With that, he leaves. His silhouette dithers to the morning sun flooding in through the balcony doors. Mingi had gone and you were seemingly, more heartbroken than ever. Your stomach lurches into your chest, your heart slowly regressing in its palpitations; Seonghwa clicks his tongue and places one of his hands on your thigh. Comforting warmth engulfs your disturbed mind and you're pulled out of your despondency. When you turn your head, you find Seonghwa's smile growing further into his cheeks and his eyes disappearing in crinkles.

"Don't you worry about him," he says, "he'll get around. I'll have Yunho talk to him. Unless they're both on bad terms with each other."

"What?" you mutter under your breath, tracing your hand along his to intertwine your fingers together. "I don't let his words bother me, seriously. You shouldn't trouble yourself with this. Or, even Yunho."

Seonghwa chuckles, "compared to me, Yunho would've taken a much violent approach if he had heard what and how Mingi spoke to you. I'm just saying, he wouldn't have been as tolerant as me." He clears his throat and lets his smile fall to line, "and whether you are bothered by him or not, it's no way for a man to treat you like that. Mingi is one of us, and we wouldn't be setting much of an impression on you if we let him get away with these things. Like I said, don't let his words get to you, he's a better man under all the facade of arrogance and revulsion."

Giving your hand a gentle squeeze, Seonghwa steps and untangles your hands; he stands in front of the stove and smiles at you. "Let's forget about him, alright. I know you're feeling down, so, what do you want to eat?"

"I thought you were making me fried rice from yesterday's leftovers," you wiggle your legs dangling off the counter and let your lips curl, "I'm not a picky eater. You can cook whatever you want."

"There's no harm in asking my lady, is there?" he muses, offering you wink before grabbing the bunch of coriander he had brought from the balcony.

"Who would've thought you tended a garden in the balcony."

He chortles, "not many know of it, sure. However, it doesn't take a genius to plant some coriander."

"Hey, it still keeps you in touch with your nurturing psyche," you pout, swinging your legs at a steady pace, "after all you're the guy who takes care of six kids in this household."

Seonghwa bites back on a laugh and lets his lips curve instead; he shakes his head, studying your clement eyes with his before he brushes it off. The avid affection in his eyes could've misread yours. He doesn't want to believe what he interpreted, but he knows you were being grateful to him. As the conspicuous moments cling to either of your speechlessness, Seonghwa clears his throat, and steps away from the counter.

"Seven kids, sweetheart. What, did you forget to count yourself?" he whispers lowly, "but you're not wrong, gardening has helped me get over many slumps in my life. And to be fair, any guy, stuck in my situation, would've done what I'm doing. Let's not romanticise what I do."

You are weirdly confounded by his modesty; allured in some delightful sense, you can't seem to get your eyes off of him. Seonghwa had his back faced to you while he rummaged through the refrigerator. Dainty crinkles of polythene bags and containers reverberate till they're softened by your own, an airy voice calling out to him.

"Are you sure?" you muse, "because I've seen you take on countless responsibilities. You somehow manage to balance your work life and still have time for the things you love doing vis-a-vis your gardening hobby. So, yeah. You're pretty much like a superhero."

"Anyone could do that, Angel. Come on." His humility is endearing, but you couldn't understand why he was dodging your compliments. With his head still buried in refrigerator, he continues, "if we're talking about parenthood, then I believe Hongjoong deserves some credit for keeping us all together."

You let out a soft giggle before leaning back on the counter, propping your hands on either side of you and gently oscillating yourself back and forth.

"You two have your roles predestined for this household, don't you? You're doing a great job, seriously. Just take the compliments and don't backhand them," you lick your lower lip, adoring the view in front of you. Seonghwa hums as a response because he knew there was no winning against you, while you suck on your teeth, "this is totally off topic, but damn, I might have one of the bestest views in front of me right now."

There was no lie in your testimony; you were indeed revelling in the perfect view of Seonghwa's rear raised in the air as he leaned over to rummage through the refrigerator. Sweatpants hang loose on his waist, accentuating more of his curves and his ass. It'd be a lot shameful to admit you were ogling at him, then ever denying you felt yourself losing to your demarcated eroticism.

"Oh really, my little girl likes what's in front of her? Adorable," he remarks, pulling himself out of the open doors of the refrigerator, "sad, all you can do is watch and drool. We both know who's incharge here, right?"

You watch him holding a few bags of veggies; though it wasn't feasible for your mind to come up with something this early in the morning, you still manage to go along the inner voices. A spark of tease takes over your mind when the oxytocin in your body passes its threshold.

"You are," you bring your voice down a few baritones and lace it with seduction, "daddy."

As a blur of sinful hope crosses his eyes, Seonghwa's face shrouds with utmost impropriety when he prances across the very little distance between you and the refrigerator. Carelessly, he lets go the bags in his hands and they land on the counter with a placid crinkle, soon submerging into your gasp; Seonghwa forces you to spread your thighs apart while you sat still on the counter. His hands sear their touch on your skin, pushing your legs further apart for him to slot his body perfectly against yours. The tender caresses of his fingers, running in circles on your skin, under your shirt, start trickling your spine with shivers. On your amiable instinct, you're quick to wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders, supporting your body as he pulls you into his body. He kept you upright while you were almost suspended off the edge of the counter.

"Be careful with that word, sweetheart." Seonghwa warns, tracing his lips in almost like a trail of wispy kisses to your ear; he licks up the shell of your ear before biting down on the earlobe. "You throw it around too much, and I might not be able to tame myself."

Your throat runs dry, once having discerned the softer but grimy undertones of carnality in his voice. In the wrinkle of a second, you wind your legs around his waist and push your hips into his lower abdomen. His flimsy shirt rides up with your movement to have you peek on his toned abdomen, and a cute little belly button. Seonghwa's dainty fingers crawl down to the hem of your shirt, pushing it over to expose your bare chest.

"I wouldn't mind you losing yourself to me, daddy." You slur your words, tilting your head to a side when you find him staring at you.

"You're playing with fire, sweetheart," smirking, he whispers and lets his hands drag up your sides, till they're cupping your tits, "aren't you scared you might burn yourself?"

A breath hitches in your throat, mind fogging with absolute darkness when his warmth is groping your tits like that; you let out a soft whimper, your eyes fluttering close and your lips parting in a mere attempt to get your words out. Nothing came out of your mouth, not even an utter; you were too engrossed in his touches and warmth, the one which slipped away from you after teasing and tugging at your taut nipples. You were sensitive to touch, and it had only been brought to your attention during your make out session with Jongho last night.

"Hmm, you're...responsive," Seonghwa mumbles and pulls back, letting your shirt drape your body fully before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "We'll continue this after breakfast, hmm? I am really hungry right now. Hungry for food."

Tangled limbs become free as he pushes himself away from you; you weren't fond of the coldness which slipped in between too immediately after, but you couldn't complain either way. Seonghwa ties his apron around his waist and bends over to grab a chopping board from the cabinets below the stove.

He sets it on the counter before smiling at you, "I could use your help. Why don't you wash the vegetables and I'll chop them?"

"Sure."

It came off as a suggestion than request, the one you couldn't quite resist. You hop off the counter, gently tugging on your shirt before standing next to him; Seonghwa unwraps his selection of veggies from their respective polythene bags and places them on the counter. You share a glance with him, and a smile curls your lips. Soon, you two are drowning out every superficial thought in your head, lost in a void of affection while your eyes never once wavered from each other. He almost leant in, lips puckered and eyes half-lidded, you were prepared for whatever that was going to happen, anticipation breaking at the seams. Warmth of his breath fans your cheeks and then your lips, before it melts into your skin; his lips are delicate with yours, brushing softly till it turns to a passionate kiss. Seonghwa winces softly when he forces himself away from you, breaking the kiss in that moment.

"If we carry on like this, there's no way I'd finish preparing breakfast for nine people."

"Then maybe you should learn how to control yourself," you joke, bumping your hips into his, as playfully as you could, "come on, we've got a lot of time after breakfast to do whatever your heart desires to do now."

"Duly noted, ma'am."

Cooking with Seonghwa was fun, endearing even. You two spent the time laughing and talking around, making harmless jokes about the others who were somehow still not awoken to your chaos. There wasn't a lot to talk about any way, so you settled on asking him questions about Mingi and his relationship. At first Seonghwa hesitated in his head to answer your doubts, but soon enough he was opening up and spilling everything. Mingi and Lani, his girlfriend, have been on and off from the freshman year; the two met in their department and have known each other since then. Lani is a ballet major and according to Seonghwa's first impression of her, she's a pretty woman with an ugly heart and soul. She had been stringing Mingi along to her tricks, taking advantage of his good persona and also his wealth. Yep, if you hadn't known it before, Mingi, similar to Jongho, belonged to a well-heeled family.

"Mingi's too much of a kind heart to see through her lies and chicaneries," Seonghwa scoffs, continuing to sauté the vegetables, he glances at you and shrugs his shoulders lightly, "we've all tried our hardest to get him out of the illusions she's weaved around him; so far, we've only offended him with our stupid trials."

"You told me not to be bothered by him, on the contrary you yourself are troubled—"

"—there's always some sort of hypocrisy hidden in my words, sweetheart," his laugh interrupts you, "time heals, doesn't it?" As he sighs, he fixates himself on the pan of sizzling of vegetables, "I'm just hoping he realises his worth and knows what he deserves."

"He will, I'm a firm believer of that."

You hum and lean back into the counter, stretching out your upper body and legs to destress yourself; the sublime morning dawned over, spilling with golden cast and untimely bloom of chirping birds. It had been approximately fifteen minutes since Seonghwa and you had taken on the venture of cooking egg fried rice for everyone, almost done with finishing with the task at hand. Amid the silence of all, where only the occasional sears of vegetables and oil resounds, your stomach growls and all hell breaks loose.

Seonghwa bites back on a laugh and looks at you, "if you're that eager, there's an assortment of cut fruit in the fridge. Help yourself to it." He redirects your attention by pointing the spatula in his hand towards the refrigerator, "I'll be done in ten more minutes. You can have a light snack till then. And do you want me to brew you some green tea with the rice?"

You're already a few steps ahead, already by the refrigerator, "I'm fine. I'll just have some orange juice instead."

Opening the door of the refrigerator, you shuffle around with the various takeout containers and a box leftover pizza from last night. Along some saran-wrapped plates of Wooyoung's experimented recipes, you find the colourful bowl of cut fruits, which also happened to be covered by a large sheet of saran-wrap. The gelid ceramic bowl fits snug in the palm of your hands when you bring it out to the dining table; sitting down on your designated chair, you put the bowl on the table and flick the wrap from it. Your place at the dining table had been preordained by the others, you were given the seat between Yunho and San, while the others sat in their usual chairs. There was one chair, centrally placed along the width of the table, claimed by Hongjoong. And the others would then sit around him; it started with Hongjoong, and clockwise to him, it went, Seonghwa, Jongho, Yeosang, Mingi, Wooyoung, San, you and Yunho.

As it was only the two of you this morning, you decided to settle down on the first chair you see; which happened to be where Seonghwa sat. Aimlessly, you let your hand dive in the bowl to pinch out a piece of peach, the first bite is juicy, tangy and sweet, forcing you to reminisce on your bittersweet encounter with Mingi. You're in a dour state of your mind again, forced to have mindless notions, if there could ever be a time where you and Mingi would get along just fine. Lost in your heady wonders, you blindly pick out another piece, a piece of melon and put in your mouth; juices trickle, splashing on your chin and rolling further down your neck. Chewing through it, you're still immersed in the intangible truth of your downtrodden relationship with Mingi. You munch and chew, without having the knowledge that you had nearly finished all the fruit in bowl, and how sticky your chin was from all the fruit juices.

Louder your thoughts are, the more unaware you become of footsteps ascending out of the kitchen. You're snapped into reality by a certain weight lingering on your shoulder. When you raise your head up, you're stricken with Seonghwa's beaming smile and his amused eyes.

"Angel to earth," he muses, "what are you thinking of?"

You shake your head, lips quivering, "nothing really."

Seonghwa doesn't believe you, yet he nods his head and places the plates on the table which had been carrying in his other hand. Slipping his hand from your shoulder and sliding it across the back of your chair, he leans over and traces his other hand along your chin; fingers collect the remnant of fruit juices from your chin before his thumb swipes just under your lower lip. You watch him, flustered and confused, mouth agape, seemingly out of the daze, as he brings his fingers to his mouth and lets his tongue dart out. He licks up the length of his forefinger, fluttering his eyes close before humming in satisfaction. When his eyes open to your soft whimper, he continues to lap his tongue around his thumb; sucking on it, he brings it out with a pop and smirks lightly at you.

"Sweet," he whispers, leaning further to reduce whatever distance that was between you two. His lips hover on yours, ghosting their soft brushes till he mumbles, "you're not a good liar, sweetheart."

"I-I really wasn't—I wasn't thinking of anything," you stutter, jerking up your shoulders and taking a deep breath to keep yourself composed.

On the brink of letting your lips touch, you're at loss for words and thoughts; the close proximity muddles with your brain in ways you couldn't quite comprehend. Not when Seonghwa's hand had slithered its way on the nape of your neck from the chair. His delicate grasp pulls you in, your lips touching in some sort of fervent delight, till you're lurching and leaping, tilting your head to augment the desires palpating in both of your hearts. He cups your face instead, using the warmth of both of his palms. One of his thumbs presses against your cheekbone and you wince, fumbling with your own hands to wrap them around his shoulders.

This kiss drags on for long as it could, minutes murmuring to nothing more. Seonghwa's mind is left craving for more when he tastes the sweetness of fruit on your tongue and lips, when his own had been exploring the hot crooks of your mouth. You let him do as he pleased to, eager for his tongue to explore and taunt your own, to let both of them rub and wrestle together. Until, you're past the threshold of your contentment. A concept frozen in time, bounded by nothing till you're both breathless, chasing for the breath of air you needed to appease the burn in your chest. Seonghwa breaks the kiss, rupturing the rhythm of your lips; he rests his forehead against yours, his warm and ragged breath thrashing against your cheeks.

"Something has to be wrong with me today," he frets his words with the air he inhales, "I can't seem to let go of you, neither can I rid my heart of this devout yearning to taste you on my tongue. What have you done to me, my darling?" He chuckles in the raspy and breathless state of his, "do you not want me to stay sane?"

"I'm—I'm doing nothing," you respond, words hitching in your throat and heart pounding on the walls of your chest, "you were the one who kissed me."

"I am aware," he adds, whirling his tone with a deep laugh, "couldn't help myself when I saw you sitting here, lips and face glistening with the juices. You wouldn't know how tempting you were, how fucking beautiful it was for a man like me, to find you—" he chuckles in your face, "—every bit of you is so fucking precious, sweetheart. No doubt I lack self-restraint when I'm with you."

One of his hands on your cheeks, falls to grab your chin in his fingers' subtle grip, he pushes his thumb under your lower lip and forces you to open your mouth.

"This mouth had done some wonders back then," he mutters, "do you remember that night, Angel? When I had fucked this pretty little mouth of yours..."

You nod.

"Such a good little girl," he rasps, drunkenly, "such a good girl to remember the time I had wrecked her throat. Hmm, fucking perfect."

And you're rendered speechless; it's very unlikely for you to be so horny in the morning, let alone, your day had just started, and you were already dripping through your shorts. Swallowing thickly, your throat wobbles with you having no words to voice them out; instead, Seonghwa steps back, begrudging to himself as he straightens up and stares down at you.

"I know what you're thinking of," he muses, "and I've got something for you regarding it. Don't worry, sweetheart, all your desires will be quenched; let's just eat first, okay?"

Again, you're only sane enough to nod your head vigorously. Biting on your lower lip, your mind goes astray, the reminisces of the said night flooding your conscience with zeal and ecstasy; only recalling the vague memoirs that night left you with, had tipped you past your edge, urging your arousal to soak your shorts and causing more to seep out. Seonghwa's muted whistle howls in your ears when he's placing the pot of cooked rice on the table. While you're still disoriented from the remembrances of your game night with him and Yunho, Seonghwa makes himself comfortable on one of the chairs and pats his lap, hoping you'd take on the little hint. You obviously did not need to be told twice. Scampering off your feet, you're quick to fit yourself in his lap. You prop your legs across his, leaning your body onto his chest while resting your head on his shoulder. Mumbling out an incoherent sound, Seonghwa wraps his arms around your waist and presses a soft kiss against your forehead.

"How are we supposed to eat if you're going to..." he says, suggestive enough for you to sit a bit straighter, "you know, you can get needy at times. A lot."

Plucked by a sense of curiosity, you compose your posture and wrap your arms around his neck. Seonghwa's lips curl with the utmost bewilderment, while your brows squeeze together in the centre of your forehead; he shakes his head, fathoming your deliberate gestures. He pinches your chin, thumb pressing into your bone for your lower lip to tug out.

"I'm not complaining, it's adorable." He adds in a wispy voice, "really fucking adorable when daddy's little girl gets to bat her lashes at him and he falls head first into her trap."

You smirk, squirming on his lap before leaning over to whisper in his ear, "isn't daddy all talk and no show?"

"Daddy doesn't want to hurt his baby," he mutters, tracing one of his hands along your back to your neck. Though, losing his grasp on his own tongue, he lets out a chuckle and looks away from you, "bless my soul, I thought I'd be able to keep a straight face through this vulgar oration, but turns out I can't really utter anything without absolutely cringing my spine."

"Why not?" you laugh along him, as his eyes are back on you, twinkling with unsaid words, "I believe, you said it was a part of your "kinks" and preferences."

He shrugs, slightly shifting you on his lap, "it is; however I don't want our fellow readers to crawl out of their skin listening to me exaggerate..."

You peck his lips and shut him up, "I bet the readers like it. So, don't you worry about it."

"The main concern should be, do you like it?" he rasps, his voice husky, "it's important to know if you're comfortable or not."

You brush your lips against his, "it might take me some time to get used to it. Not a lot of guys I had been with, dabbled in this kink, you know."

"Lot of guys?" he instigates, his lips curling into his cheek, revealing his canines, "how many guys have you been with before us?"

"I never asked you how many women you've been with before me," you drawl, jutting your lower lip out, "why do you care, anyway?"

Sliding his hand further up your neck, he entangles his fingers in your hair and pulls you with it; you arch your head back, succumbing to his strength and chuckling softly before he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He traces pleasant kisses on your skin, eventually letting his tongue dart over to lick and suck, eliciting pretty sounds from your mouth.

He murmurs his words, letting them collide with your skin, "fine. I'll tell you everything. Would you like that?"

His hand which had stayed around your waist, tightens and using your body to have some leverage, he bucks his hips into yours. The thin material of his sweatpants wasn't enough to let the impression of his erection go unnoticed by you; seemingly immersed in the sensation his lips offered and the way his hardening cock rubbed against your inner thigh, you let out a mangled gasp, smiling to yourself.

"Sure—ah fuck—sure, tell me everything about your past." In your line of sight, you could only catch the minute glimpse of his tousled hair tickling your throat.

Seonghwa hauls a soft chortle against your collarbone; not knowing when he had drifted off from kissing your throat, to your collarbones, you whimper ever so slightly, lurching over to hug his shoulders tighter in your grasp. Your body somehow manages to stay on his lap, somehow rattling to his the movements of his hips and the sensitive teasing of his lips on your collarbones; if you were to squirm or shift even to the slightest to your side, you would be slipping out of his lap and landing ass-first on the floor.

"What, do you need a number or names?" he jokes, "I'm bad with both. Could never keep a count, or remember their names."

"That's just sad," you enunciate, shuddering to his teeth sinking right above one of your collarbones, "very much like you, I don't recall a lot of things from my past endeavours either."

Seonghwa hums along, "you certainly know how to play a risky game, don't you?" teasing you with his teeth, he proffers a few more nibbles to your flesh before pulling back. His hand drops from your hair and lets you move your head freely; though, he brings the same hand down to cup a side of your face, "don't bite more than you can chew."

"Oh, you're one to talk," you retort, rolling your eyes at him, "aren't you redirecting my attention to something else." He understands your intentions when you subtly glance down, and scoff, "I thought we were going to eat. You just seem to have all different kinds of ideas, anything but eating breakfast, apparently."

"And who's responsible for putting these ideas in my head?" he taunts you, patting your cheek before backing himself away and wrapping both his arms around your waist.

A dark sheet of serenity falls over the two of you, simmering your thoughts till he's making an effort to create a sound. Seonghwa's grip tightens around your figure, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder as he mumbles, "I've slept with many women in my past, maybe a few men here and there; but I could never connect with them on a spiritual level. Could never engage each other in meaningful conversations. Our emotional compatibility was almost close to negligible, so we kept it limited to our bodily passions and intimacies. All of my past experiences, they're more jarring than you could ever imagine them to be."

You listen to him draw in a sharp breath, his chest heaving into yours when he does. For the fractioned beat of a second, he grows quiet and then sighs, breaking his silence, "in the end, I came to terms with it; I had no problems living that lifestyle, even though it was, in practicality, destroying me." He adds, "so, due to my internalised needs and desires, I stopped meddling with the dating culture altogether. Now, I wander around, meeting new faces every night and indulging in most of my darkest desires."

"Does that sate your curiosities, sweetheart?" he wrings out a jagged laugh, shaking his head, "I truly hope so."

You nod, "yeah."

There's an underlying forethought concealed in Seonghwa's eyes; it glimmers softly while you're still figuring your way through the labyrinth of his words. Seonghwa may not be as forthcoming as you might have predicted him to be, though you couldn't really judge after only living with him for a month or so. It took time for him to peel his shell off, engage with you in much profound and deeper conversations about literally anything and those tête à têtes were your habitual secrets to seeking an ardent relationship with him.

"Good," he smiles, "let's eat then. I can feel my stomach growling for some food, while I'm starting to see stars behind my eyelids."

"Oh, you're so dramatic," you playfully scoff, before propping the lid off the pot, "and so hungry today. Are you sure it's food that you're craving and not something else?"

"What else would I crave on a Saturday morning?" he deadpans, licking his lips.

"I don't know, I was thinking about..." you trail off and let out a simple laugh, "me, aren't you craving me to fill your mouth with my sweetness..."

Seonghwa groans, keeping a mellowed out smile on his lips, "daddy's little girl really wants to test his patience, doesn't she? Well, daddy is going to make sure his little girl knows not to tease him."

Your spine crumbles to his husky voice, his arms tracing up your sides; fingers clasping onto the hem of your shirt, he lifts it over your head and discards it down on the floor. A soft crinkle resounds, but you aren't too bothered by it, because you were too fazed by his warm breath prickling your skin, fanning with an intensity. Bare chest, see-through demeanour, you fix your hungry eyes on his and wait for them to shift a shade, wait for them to lose all the light before he becomes feral in a way only you could understand. Wetting your lips, you slide your hands into his hair, picking at the soft tuft of ebony strands, and tangling yourself in the much needed strength. And there it goes without saying, ambient dark shrouds his eyes and a smirk fleets on his lips.

Till the time a breathless gasp leaves your mouth, his face is buried in between your tits. His tongue slithers out, rubbing up stripes, licking your skin; a moan gets trapped in your chest when you find the same warmth graze along your sternum. His lips hover over one of your tits, you're anticipating when he opens his mouth and engulfs you with a want you had been sitting on. However, he doesn't give it much thought before wrapping his soft lips around your flesh and guiding his mouth down. All in his mouth, you bite your lip and throw your head back, eyes screwing shut with the absolute pleasure you were bubbling with.

Your arousal seeps through your shorts when his teeth sink in lightly at first, and then he bites down, hard enough for his teeth to mark your skin. Strapping his hands to your waist and pulling himself away from your chest, he somehow manages to shuffle you on his lap. A second sounds in your head and his mouth is back on your chest; immersed in the holy delight of his lips and mouth sucking your tit, you voice a strangled whimper and fist your hands in his hair. Seonghwa winces at the way you were tugging on his hair, but doesn't make a sound and continues to do what he had taken up on.

Somber serenity in the surrounding is filled with fervent echoes of moans, groans and whimpers, all shuddering from your mouth; your lips remain parted, your eyes now half-lidded to gaze down at Seonghwa, and your cunt leaking with excitement. Whiling himself in his own carnality, he slides one of his hands up from your waist and gropes your other tit. The softness of his hand caresses your skin before the raggedness of his fingers envelops it whole. Pinching your taut nipple in between his thumb and forefinger, he lets it roll before pulling on it.

"Ah, fuck—Seonghwa," you voicelessly mutter out, bucking your hips into his to let your clothed cunt grind against his thigh, "you—you fucking switched up—you just—keep doing that, please."

Your desperation amuses him, but he doesn't let go. Seonghwa's tongue keeps lapping and tickling your taut nipple by rubbing its tip too harshly over it. At this point, you're gasping for air and your lungs could collapse any moment due to the suffocation your mind brought upon them. Moving your hips vigorously to a steady pace, you try to get as much friction against his thigh as you could. Internally, you writhe with a bolt of desperation striking down every rational thought in your body. While his other hand stays around your waist, he supports your back and lets you ride his thigh.

The slick of your arousal is starting to seep through your shorts and soaking into his sweatpants; if you could translate your and his neediness, you both wanted the same things. To rid yourself of your clothes. You were piqued beyond your desires, wanting to rub your drenched pussy against his bare thigh, and Seonghwa had his heart in his mouth, picturing how pretty you'd look cumming on his thigh. With his hand slipping against the small of your back, he gives you subtle hint and you take it; propping yourself on your feet, you stand while Seonghwa pulls away from your chest and suppresses a groggy grunt in his stomach.

"I better have you moaning my name when you're riding my thigh."

As he voices the steepest craving of his heart, he pinches your nipple harder and twists it in between his forefinger and thumb; you gasp, your lungs burning to the sting of your chest while you're starting to pool in your shorts.

"Do you understand that little girl?" he emphasises and tugs harshly on your nipple, red blotches starting to fade in across your skin.

"Yes—yes," you mutter, catching a breath, but aren't really given much time when Seonghwa's hand cups your tit before the palm lands flat and harsh against it.

"What do we say, Angel?" he slurs your name, and it rolls off his tongue coated with honey.

"Yes, daddy." he nods, willingly palming your tit before slapping it again, "that's what I like to hear, hmm..."

The meagre vibrations of his voice are just resonating in your ears when his delicate touches ghost your waist. Your bare skin gets trickled with goosebumps the moment he engulfs you in his warmth. Effortlessly, as you meet his eyes, pleading him to rid you from your shorts, he hooks his fingers under the waistband and tugs them down. Not a second is wasted in kicking the shorts off your body; they lay strewn on the floor, sprawled by the legs of Seonghwa's chair.

You're about to lower yourself back into his lap when he makes you cease your actions with a simple nudge of his head. Seonghwa, unfazed by your glistening cunt, quickly pulls his sweatpants down and lets them bunch at his ankles. Trapping a mewl in your chest, you then straddle a side of him, situating yourself and your aroused cunt on one of his thighs.

"Hmm, fuck me, Angel," Seonghwa moans, throwing his head back when he feels your slick caress his skin, "you're fucking leaking down here. Such a—such a wet cunt rubbing up and down my thigh," he takes a deep breath and squints his eyes close, "you seriously want me to lose it, don't you?"

You bite down on your lower lip and nod your head, pressing your back into his thigh and letting your cunt drag over; the very first brush of your folds against his skin was ecstatic, beaming a haze of sheer raw carnality through your body. Seonghwa catches his breath and straightens his head to have his gaze fixed on you. The specs of brown are mild and pale in his eyes, mostly because they were concealed behind a thick curtain of lust. The look in his eye is quite similar to the one you had caught up on that night, the night where you were sandwiched in between Yunho and him.

"I just—I just want to cum," you cry in absolute agony, the dragging minutes turning your arousal painful and harrowing. "I can't—Hwa, I can't take this much long—longer."

"Darling, no one's stopping you," he growls, "go ahead, make a mess on my thigh," he clicks his tongue and shakes his head, a sly smile curving his lips, "or does daddy's little girl need his cock to set her straight?"

When he rasps his words, you let a part of your sanity slip away into the dark of your lust; craving most of him, you rock your hips against his thigh, your wet folds fretting with a want so inhumanly strong to break you apart in meagre seconds. Needless to say, you were long gone, led astray in the land of darkness and pure lechery. How could you take things slow when you were beyond any hope, beyond the particulars of your aroused body forcing you to fold and rile up in all the worst ways possible. Your body jolts to the upheaving urge of suffering; cinched by your mind, you tense up the moment a tight knot fickle with your gut.

Winding your arms around his shoulders, you procure a much needed leverage for your hips to rub on his thigh. The sensation kept dragging out your high, kept you in the steady motion while you were whimpering in utmost pleasure. And the man under you was completely unfazed, however bewildered and amused to watch you use him to help you come undone. This was his first time watching you so desperate for him, his first time touching your cunt; it blew up a fuse in his head, mouth drooling at the sight of you and your tits bouncing, the sinful sounds your mouth parted with, and how lusciously loud you were starting to get. Combusting with the remaining desire, you steady the rhythm of your hips and tighten your arms around his shoulders. Your cunt kept clenching around nothing, your clit in a sensory overdose from grinding for long and your needy self still ached to be filled by him. Moans grew louder, your eyes welled with tears and blurred your vision.

"Daddy..." a whimper shudders in your most devastating voice ever, "I want you—I want your cock, please. I need you—I need you so bad, daddy."

Seonghwa's unholy chuckle resounds only a little when he immerses himself in the play of his cravings and dives in to lick your already shimmering tits. His spit layers on your skin, his cock springing and straining in his briefs at the way your delicate cunt kept stroking his thigh. This could be the ultimate end of your struggle, you were so sure the tension in your stomach would ease out if you continued for even a minute more. But to your disappointment, one of Seonghwa's hands comes down to caress your mound; he offers you a little slap before using his other hand to stop you. A bashing strike of his hand against your stomach is enough to bring you out of the daze, to have your hips rolling back while your body manages to comprehend the situation.

"Hmm," Seonghwa clicks his tongue, "my little girl needs daddy's cock to fuck her good, hmm..?" continuing to muse, he mumbles against your chest, "such a needy little girl."

"Please daddy," you whisper, tilting your head down to meet his eye.

"Get on your feet," he commands and you oblige, standing up with your legs on either side of his.

Seonghwa lets a teasing curve slide on his lips before he starts pulling his briefs down; he manages to slip them off his legs, shoving them to a side while he glances at you and how your eyes were tracing every inch of his cock. Indeed, you were staring down at him, salivating with the anticipation of when you'd be stuffed by him. Biting back on a groan, you could barely keep yourself up, merely have strength to keep yourself on your feet. When your knees buckle with an absolute want and feeble enthusiasm, you land straight in his lap. Seonghwa clicks his tongue, in an attempt to distract you from the embarrassment you thought you were delving in; he pulls your further down by your waist and lets the tip of cock nudge a side of your inner thigh.

In the heat of the moment, you mewl from the pit of your stomach and lurch into his chest. Simmering kisses along his clothed chest and collarbones, you graze your lips painfully slow to meet his; a fracture in time melts all boundaries for your rationality, and the next thing you know, you're licking his lips and shoving your tongue into his mouth. You pry his mouth further open, letting it fall wide while your tongue slithers past his and plunges to the base of his throat.

Seonghwa hums, letting you do as you please; he was more concentrated on bucking his hips into yours, to let you feel his hard cock, let it dent in your lower belly. You're far too gone, though a few minutes prior to this you were on the edge cumming, and now you're riling yourself up again. Pressing your tongue against the roof of Seonghwa's mouth, you shift in his lap and situate yourself in a desperate position. Your cunt stroked up his cock, the tip almost slipping inside but you veer slightly to let it slide out and up your mound. Musty stench of sweat and sex had already dissipated in the morning air, how the sunshine basked in glory of shining across your bodies and entrapping them in warmth of refined pleasure.

Breathless, Seonghwa pulls you by your waist and angles his head back; he takes a lug of air through his mouth and lets his lips mould into a smirk.

"What was that?" he questions, his husky voice dwindling to a mere whisper, "my little girl knows how to play, doesn't she...?"

You nod, succumbing to such neediness that you have to stable yourself by holding onto his shoulders. "Yes daddy..."

Seonghwa has had a good grasp on his untamed mind for quite long. Though he knows he's going to lose it soon, and the more you heed him by the word he so often goes crazy listening to, he might not really not go too easy on you. His hands glide down the small of your back and cup your ass. While his eyes are too busy fixated on you, he leans in to catch your lower lip in between his teeth. You give into him because you were wasted, intoxicated by carnality to have any logical notions to think straight. The raggedness of his calloused hands rubs against your ass. Taking the hint, you lift yourself only a bit for him to guide you down onto his cock. And he might have struggled a little to slip inside you, because he was distracted by your desperate eyes and the way he had trapped your lower lip in his mouth.

You whine, managing to get your words out, "fuck—daddy, I need you—fucking please."

"You're doing great so far, love," he praises you, freeing your lip from his clasp and continues, "come on, you can get it in by yourself, can't you?"

On the verge of crying out, you quickly nod your head and bring one of your hands down from his shoulder to wrap it around his cock. You give him a few strokes along the shaft and then proceed to pump his tip; bracing yourself, you use the same hand to align him against you, your attention solely fixed on Seonghwa's as he watches you with so much admiration. The moment the tip of his cock prods with your folds, his brows scrunch to the centre and his eyes flutter close. He voices a guttural moan, clasping down hard on his lower lip while you swallow the length of his cock. It slips right in because of your abundant arousal leaking out; he grows harder inside of you, twitching slightly you completely sink down and wrap your velvet walls around him.

"Ah, fuck. Angel..." he mutters under his breath, peeling his eyes open to find you were equally stuck in the trance of pleasure with him, "is daddy's cock perfect for you?"

You nod, "yes, daddy's cock—daddy's cock fits so well in my cunt."

And there goes your ability to structure cogent responses and voice them at the same time. You were bound to get drunk on all the dopamine and serotonin dispersed in your bloodstream; Seonghwa's body was just another excuse for your brain's haphazard behaviour. His cock nestles deep in your cunt, slightly straining again as you try to adjust to the stretch and his length. Seonghwa may not be as girthy or thick as Yunho, or Jongho for that matter, regardless, he had a good length to reach places which were probably not easily accessible to anyone. It wasn't a good time to recall, but the night you deep throated this man, you were practically left sore in your throat and Yunho's suggestion of drinking hot tea was a failed attempt.

"Such a good girl," Seonghwa mumbles, slotting one of his hands in the small of your back and tracing up the other one to your neck, "such a good fucking whore to take my—take my cock in. Feels good, hmm? Daddy's cock feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes," you whimper, wincing softly before leaning over to envelope his shoulders with your arms. "Daddy's cock—daddy's cock feels really good. So fucking good."

Your voice starts breaking towards the end; throat drying to the possible thought of rolling his hips against his, for his cock to plunge even deeper than this. The moment you try to move your hips even an inch, Seonghwa slaps a hand across your tits to get you out of the daze. Bothered and immensely frustrated, you let out a saccade series of jumbled up whines and gasp.

"Fuck—what was—what was that for?" you stutter, watching the man with tears in the corners of your eyes.

"Don't move." He smirks, "not yet."

"Why not?"

Seonghwa's smirk grows deep into his cheek, "because I'm hungry. And I need to eat."

"Fucking really?" you heave out a low-pitched laugh, sliding your arms down to the hem of his shirt, "daddy really is un-fucking-predictable."

"And daddy's little girl shouldn't have such a foul mouth on her," he teases, bringing his hand again to strike it against your chest; to you surprise he doesn't, rather he slaps your already puffed cunt, "hope she's aware daddy knows a way to cleanse it. Does she want—ah fuck, love, you're clenching around me."

He leans over to grunt in your ear, "be a good little girl while I have my breakfast, darling. And I'll give you what you deserve, hmm?"

"Okay," you murmur, but bite your tongue, adding, "daddy..."

Seonghwa scoffs playfully and props your body against his chest; he makes sure you're resting on him while he reaches out to the cutlery holder on the table to grab himself a spoon. The plates were ready in front of him beforehand, from back then. He helps him to a small serve of the rice you two had cooked together. As the rice spills over the plate, his spoon clatters delicately; he collects a spoonful and brings it close to your mouth. In all honesty, you were indeed hungry, but didn't want to admit it to him. Not when you were frisky and needy in the beginning.

"Here," he rests the spoon by your lower lip, "open wide."

Rolling your eyes at his trivial attempt at mockery, you open your mouth and let him put the spoonful of rice in. The spicy and tangy undertones hit your taste buds, quickly followed by the crunch of veggies. You were baffled, struck by a dilemma; there was a party of flavours in your mouth and in the merry land of downtown, your cunt was stuffed with his cock. Which plight was more engaging and pleasurable? Obviously, eating.

You hum in a strangled manner, gazing at Seonghwa who himself had a spoonful of rice in his mouth. A blotch of sauce stains under his lip, just below on his chin and your mind goes off with an idea. Leaning in, your breath fans along his nose and lips, eventually turning intense on his chin. Your tongue darts out in the latter second and laps up the stain. You've licked it clean, and while you were immersed in doting on Seonghwa's lowly groans, you could feel him twitch in your cunt. It turned him on. Victory for you.

"Really?"

"What?" you act coy, rolling your hips into his to let the tip of his cock thrust into you slightly. "You've got weird kinks, I did what I thought you'd like..." you drag it to a mumble, "daddy."

He shakes his head, a smile splaying on his lips; he gets another spoonful of rice and feeds it to you. Again, you relish on the savoury taste and moan softly. Again, Seonghwa's cock pulsates in your cunt.

"I do." He answers to your priorly posed question, "in fact, feeding you is weirdly turning me on."

"Touché," you roll your eyes.

"Do you want to cum or not?" he mocks, sliding his other hand up your bare stomach to grope one of your tits.

"You're a fucking tease."

Uh-oh.

You shouldn't have said that.

'Cause the moment those words left your lips, Seonghwa's eyes lost their light, and his lips pursed together in a straight line. He lets the spoon drop against the plate, clattering louder at the impact and the echoes kept resonating around. You swallow thickly, your mind fogged with deliberate thoughts of him and anticipation. It takes a fraction of a second for Seonghwa to thrust his hips into yours, ramming his cock further up your cunt. You press on a moan, fumbling with your arms to allot them a place to rest; finding his shoulders perfect for your body to support itself you tangle them around him and hope for the best.

"Fine," he mutters, growling through his words halfway, "I'll get straight to the point then. Get on your feet."

His voice is as dark as his eyes, stern clear and firm; you swallow down on a lump in your throat again, and get on your feet. When you do, though, his cock slips out of your cunt and you wince at the emptiness; your much elated indulgence comes to a sudden halt but it doesn't leave you quite yet. As you're steadying your quavery feet on the floor, Seonghwa stands up from his chair and steps out of his sweatpants pooling around his ankles. Your eyes meet with his, losing yourself to the push and pull of your horniness; he takes a step towards you, while your back is pressed up against the table. The edge of the table dents into your flesh, but it's nothing compared to the steely despair in your stomach which bubbles through your body. He lurches over and rests his arms on either side of you, putting his hands on the table to trap you in between his body.

"Ass out, little girl," he rasps, "daddy is going to remind you how to behave around him."

With little to no resistance in your mind, you flip your body over and stick your ass out; he, on the other hand, does not hesitate in grabbing your waist or pulling your ass back into his crotch. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it up to clutch it in between his teeth; the shirt rides up and exposes his toned abdomen, and chest. You glance over your shoulder to bask in the sight, the delicious sight of him biting down on the hem of his shirt and sporting a smirk on his lips. There's no denying, he was a piece of art and even more so, he appeared so fucking hot while pushing himself into you. His cock nudges against your asscheek as he rolls his hips into your rear; he continues to do so until his cock slips perfectly in between, under your cunt. The tip prods with your slit, tracing back and forth till he makes an attempt to sink into your warmth.

Seonghwa's grunt is partially coarse when he plunges the tip of his cock into you. The way he slips in so effortlessly into your cunt, reminds you how wet and aroused you were. Though, you wouldn't have minded if he had rubbed his cock along your slit for few more minutes; it was driving you insane how he drags his ministrations and tipping you off the edge. Your patience were disintegrating and it was hard to keep up with your body.

"Fuck, Angel," he slurs his words, "you're swallowing me in, fuck—so fucking eager."

He winds an arm around your waist, resting it right over your stomach to steady you before pushing himself further into your hips. Inch by inch, the entirety of his cock is buried in your cunt, the fullness causes you to tremble and shudder, forcing you to take a deep breath which apparently only stings your lungs. Seonghwa uses his other hand to slot it in the curve of your back, pushing you over the table and bending you into him. It was all about the convenience, finding the perfect angle for his cock to thrust and ram into all the good places inside you.

"Seonghwa..." you whimper, resting your hands in front of you, holding onto the table as you're pushed into it with his force. "Fuck—daddy, you're—a little faster, please."

Stringing out a few words to create something coherent, at least you thought you were. Seonghwa's thrusts pick up their pace, only by a tempo while he still teases you: he pushes in till the base of his cock, and pulls out fully to leave you whining on the empty feeling. He does that quite a lot, frequently slipping out of you and sliding back in with much fervent enthusiasm than before. The teasing was only so much you could handle at the given moment of time, because you were already in the hopeless state of mind, wanting to be railed by him without any restrictions or distractions.

It had certainly left your mind that you stayed here with seven others men; one of which who resents you but the other six are patient, awaiting on their chance with you. If any one of them were to walk in on the two of you, it'd be a mess. Not that you did not anticipate it. You would be propelled into a new world of kinks and chaos if someone were to watch you get dicked down by Seonghwa. Just picturing it makes you clench around Seonghwa's cock, groaning at the slow-paced thrusts and pokes he eventually made at your clit with the tip of it. You were beyond helpless and had a vague outline of future possibilities streaming in your mind. That is, if someone were to really walk in on the two of you, you really hoped it to be Yunho.

Fuck. That doesn't seem like a good idea, considering Yunho had conveyed a part of his jealousy when you were sucking Seonghwa's face off that one night. If he were to see you get railed by his friend, it'd make him vicious enough to pull Seonghwa off of you and complete the task himself.

Probably, you'd want San to walk in on you two; there's no logic to this, but to your better judgement, it seems right for him to. You and San hadn't had much of an interaction, though you're a hundred percent assured he'd revel in the sight of your ass sticking out and into Seonghwa's crotch. San was definitely an ass guy.

"What are you thinking about?" Seonghwa asks, losing his grasp on his shirt; it falls down over your back, tickling your skin softly.

"Nothing—nothing really."

"Liar. Tell me," he chuckles, dark and loud. "I know you're—fuck—thinking about something."

Seonghwa's grunt settles heavy against your shoulder when he pushes his cock back into and proceeds to fuck you with the tip; he leans in to rest his chin on your shoulder, his ragged breathing harsh against your skin, tickling a side of your face and your ear. The material of shirt chafes your skin to the slightest degree, but should you really be worried about that? Your mind had been numb to his cock prodding and thrusting harshly into you, the rhythm of his hips not once faltering; he's certainly going at it, but somehow drawling out your orgasm and his too. He brings both of his hands on either side of your waist, clutching and denting your flesh with his fingers.

"I know what you're thinking about," he groans, "fuck—what if someone were to—what if someone walks in on us, hmm?"

You moan, "daddy..."

"Little girl wants someone to watch her while she gets—fuck—while she gets railed by her daddy, hmm?"

"Yeah, thinking bout someone—someone watching me."

"Ah, daddy's little girl is really filthy," he plunges deep into you, the tip of his cock settling in your warmth, "wants someone to watch her—wants others to see how good—fuck—how fucking good her daddy fucks her."

"Please," you mewl, nails scratching against the wood of the table, varnish slipping under them. "Please daddy—wanna—wanna be a good girl for you."

"Hmm," he hums close to your ear, licking up a stripe to bite down on the shell of it, "you are. Such a good girl—such a good fucking girl—fuck, taking daddy's cock so fucking well."

His hips rattle your body, the pace building up to a heavy speed, and continuing to follow so; pushing at your back, he bends you further onto the table, almost pushing your chest flat against it. In your haphazard world, you are cautious not to fall on the half eaten plate of food and the little sauce pan of rice which remained covered. You turn your head to the side, cheek pressed up against the wooden top and catch in the glimpse of Seonghwa's sweaty face. A few drops cascade down his forehead, while a few strands of his stuck too close to his skin. He has a very fucked look in his eyes, losing himself to the insatiable temptation of hitting you from the back.

You stretch your hands in front of you, pressing the palms flat and supporting your body to the wild impacts of his hips. As the benign force of his thrusts causes you to oscillate back and forth against the table, you're somehow lost in the trance while staring at him. Seonghwa throws his head back, his throat arching so perfectly, so expressive of him; his adam's quivers under his skin, and he screws his eyes shut. You're on the verge of letting your tears slide down your face, stricken with immense pleasure and delight in the way his cock was ploughing through your puffy walls.

"Good girl for..." you muffle your words on your spit, the drool starting to accumulate and trickle past your mouth. "Good girl for daddy."

"Yes, sweetheart . Such a sweet girl." Seonghwa replies incoherently and continues, "such a sweet little cunt, swallowing my cock in—so fucking well."

He had lost it too; he rambled useless words in the daze of your walls cleaning around him. It was the sweet disposition which got him to thrust himself even deeper. Too deep. Too many long and hard thrusts. His crotch and lower abdomen stays flushed with your ass, his thighs boring into your hips with every thrust of his. The tip of his cock plunges in the steeper end of you, pushing through your walls and jolting your body close to your orgasm. One of Seonghwa's hands comes to rest on the nape of your neck, wrapping delicately before pushing your head further into the table. His other hand lays flat against the small of your back, somehow forcing you to arch your ass into his cock. It worked.

"Daddy..." you moan, eyes half-lidded and lips slick with your drool; not just your lips, your chin had a sheeny coat of your spit.

"A little more, darling," Seonghwa groans.

When you whimpered his name, it was the point of no return for him; he diverts his mind towards your cunt, and how your warmth had engulfed his cock in sheer pleasure. Your walls tauten around him, and devour his cock further into your heat. You weren't fond of the table, your body felt sore and aching against it; and his thrusts weren't easing out any of the pain, not when he had picked them up. The inhumane lunges of his hips, shoved his cock deep. Stroking his thumb on the back of your neck, he leans over to rest his forehead on your shoulder blade. His hot breath fans your skin, edging you close to your orgasm.

A unlikely and familiar heaviness knots in your gut, twisting them ferociously as your stomach growls with a need. Seonghwa's cock keeps hitting you in all the right places, in all the right ways; you were minutes away from crumpling down and easing out your orgasm. Sensing your walls clench around his pulsating cock, Seonghwa peppers your shoulder with gentle and light kisses. The fluttering sensation crawls down to your stomach and causes it to twist; you're so close, almost on the verge of letting it go. The hand resting against your back, traces up the length of your arm and pulls it down; he bends it over and slots it in the curve of your back. Doing the same with your other arm, he has both of them together against your back, while he traps your wrists in his death grip. You're far too fucked out of your mind to resist against anything.

"Go on, sweetheart," he whispers, "you deserve it—fuck—go on, make a fucking mess on daddy's cock."

"Holy fuck—I'm—I'm fucking—I'm..." your voice gets lost in the sound of your skin slapping with his.

That was it. The last bits of his words make you go crazy, snapping every string of self-restraint and control, cutting off every thought to your brain and body. He drills his cock into you, keeping it concise and easy, and you're unravelling all over him. The knot in your gut nicks at your stomach, tightening it up further in your chest, and when the lightness washes you down, you relax your muscles and hear your juices splash. The cold drops trickle down your inner thighs, coating every inch of his cock as he continues to thrust through it.

"Such a good girl," Seonghwa growls, stuttering in his words, "daddy's gonna fill you up, sweetheart—daddy's gonna fill this sweet little cunt up."

Your lungs burn, your throat feels a little sore and your body feels lethargic; you're almost certain you'd pass out if he were to continue like this. Seonghwa heaves out a groan, which comes out hard from his chest as he fixes his drunken gaze on your face. His continues to caress his thumb against the back of your neck, which you had forgotten about a few minutes ago, and rolls his thighs into yours; his hips stay flushed against yours for a meagre second until he's pulling back. Keeping up with this, he thrusts in deep for the last time before his cock twitches with the urge; drenching your walls in his warmth, he spurts his load into you and rides it out with a few more thrusts.

The warmth of his cum dribbles on your skin, trailing further down to your knees when he pulls out. Emptiness scorns your body, pulling it out of the trance and your mind clears up with the post-orgasm clarity. His heat dissipates to cold air when he pulls himself away from you; stepping back, he heaves out a heavy sigh and runs a hand through his sticky and sweaty hair. You take a moment, a short second to compose your breathing before pushing yourself from the table. Your body feels lightweight and relaxed, but at the same time, you're drained. Even standing on your feet seemed like a task you'd fail at miserably. You plop down on the chair instead, hugging its backrest close to your chest and resting your head down against its edge.

"Now, that was something," a deep voice rumbles; the man clicks his tongue and pulls your attention on him. You raise your head up, almost too quickly and it gives you a good whiplash.

"How long have you been standing there for?" Seonghwa questions, pulling his briefs and sweatpants over his waist. He sounds a little breathless as well. Obviously.

"Fuck," you whisper under your breath, your naked form in all its glory in front of the man you hadn't spoken to a lot before.

He stood aimlessly by the kitchen's entrance, giving him the flawless view of you and Seonghwa doing it on the dining table. You were trembling with so much excitement after knowing there indeed was someone watching you while you got dicked down. But you did not expect it to be him. Not at all. The man has a flustered face, cheeks, the tip of his nose and ears, tainted with the subtle shade of red. He wore a black tank top and grey jogger shorts, his long ebony shaded hair sat disheveled yet neatly framed his face; half of it was tied back in a small and messy ponytail, while most of his hair stayed loose and tickled the sides of his face.

"Since she brought up someone walking in on your two," he simply shrugs and steers his gaze away from Seonghwa and onto you, "don't worry, Angel. You were fucking hot, writhing under his body. Look—" he glances down, and you do too, finding a tent in his shorts, "—my cock was so excited to see you like that."

"Well, we're actually done," Seonghwa wraps an arm around your shoulders and leans down to kiss your temple, "she's all yours if you want her."

The man standing by the kitchen, with a chilled water bottle in his hand, muses and contemplates for a good minute before his sleazy smile turns into a mischievous smirk. He unscrews the cap of his water bottle and chugs a good amount of water before sighing out in satisfaction and putting the cap back on. You could roughly translate what his eyes spoke to you at that moment, there's no way you wouldn't understand the hunger and wildness in them. And if you were honest, he was the last person you wanted to spend your time with.

"Sounds good," he mumbles, "we actually have a bone to pick, don't we Angel?"

Seonghwa gawks, "oh really?"

"Yeah," the latter continues, "we better get it done, right Angel." his voice drops down a baritone and his eyes lose their jubilant temperament, "you've already pissed me off too much, Angel. I better not find you stalling today as well."

Dread crawls your stomach and your mind goes blank, if it isn't the consequences of your actions. You're biting on your tongue, wondering how you'd get out of this. If you recall anything from the past, you might remember you were handed a contract and asked to read through it. You stalled, procrastinated and did everything else but pay any attention to that contract over the past week. Of course, now the devil haunts you, just as he had been haunting you in the past week. To your defence, the contact withheld a lot of information and most of the times, you'd fall asleep reading it. So, you put that task off till you were in a good mood and free from your university assignments. That day never came actually.

Yeosang's smirk grows in his cheek, his eyes devouring your naked stature as whole before he heaves out a breath and tugs at the straps of his tank top. You had no idea what he was thinking about. There was no way to know since you weren't a mind reader. But if you could vaguely rely on your imagination, you could tell he was thinking of ways to punish you. And that somehow, turned you on like a bitch. You were yet to venture into his kink, know his preferences and the anonymity itself made you wet, wetter than before when you were with Seonghwa.

"She's all yours, Sangie." Seonghwa kisses your cheek this time, "just give her some time to clean herself. I came in too hard."

"Of course, but yeah," you chime in, an awkward chuckle leaving your lips, "why don't I take a shower and meet you in your room once I'm done?"

He listens to your suggestion intently, ponders over it and breaks his silence to give out his testimony. "It's just cum, I'm fine with it."

As the serenity falls over the three of you, Yeosang clears his throat, "come on now."

You tense up, your shoulders going stiff and your body convulsing; you were caught up in your mind, reeling back to your moment with Seonghwa. Regardless, you were attentive enough to listen Seonghwa's clueless chatter further on.

"What is this about, Sangie?"

Yeosang shrugs, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms over his chest; the way his muscles bulge and flex, cause you to lose a part of your sanity. "Do you want to join us for a round two?"

Seonghwa shakes his head, while you're comprehending what Yeosang had just uttered and why was it so filthily hot coming from his mouth. "I wish," the older sighs, "gotta clean up the mess here and then wake the others up. I've got a few tasks lined up for the day, too. I'm taking a rain check, regardless of how fun it sounds."

His warmth clashes against your forehead when he turns and leans down to kiss it, "Angel helped me with my lethargy in the morning. I'm as refreshed as a daisy blooming on a Sunday morning."

Yeosang hums and Seonghwa adds in a mere whisper directed to you, "I have something planned for you tonight, though. Meet me in my room after dinner, hmm?"

You nod, eyes shuffling across the span of the space to meet Yeosang's; he has something lurking in his, something cruel, a few dwelling strokes of sinister intentions and a bit of malice to have your heart palpitating for no reason whatsoever. Shifting your legs on the chair you sat on, you sense something trickle down from between your thighs; the jolt of realisation strikes you hard and you quickly get on your feet before you stain the chair.

Seonghwa casts you a bemused glance, and upon understanding your actions, he lets out a soft chuckle. "It's fine, Angel. You don't have to worry about it."

You pout, "I wouldn't want to add in to your troubles, you've got a lot of them already."

"I can manage, Angel."

Seonghwa shakes his head and picks up your shorts; he hands them to you and you're quick to slip into them, preventing any flow out that might cause with your curt movements. Running his eyes on your bare chest, and the emerging purple blotches around your neck and tits, he grabs your shirt as well, and tugs it over your head. Exalted by his mannerisms, your heart does a little leap and drops down to your stomach.

"Well, thanks..."

"Are you two done?" Yeosang questions, voicing out his ire and annoyance.

"Yes," Seonghwa laughs, "go easy on her, Sangie. She's new to your kink."

"I'll think about it." The latter smirks and straightens himself off the wall, "any day now, Angel. I hate it when people keep me waiting."

"And it irks me even more when they aren't obedient."

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xerotiny99 · 21 days

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Antiserum D // Loving Professor Jeong #1

Antiserum D (Loving Professor Jeong series #1) Professor/College au.

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x (f) Reader [ft. Choi San & Song Mingi]

Warning: smut, prof!yunho, dom!yunho, sub!reader, student!reader, age gap, teasing and suggestive actions, size kink, big dick Yunho, dirty talk and pet names (master and pup), blowjob/throat fucking, spanking, rough sex, unprotected sex, edging, creampie and dacryphilia.

Note: do not proceed if you're uncomfortable or triggered by the mentioned tags. Also note the age gap tag, here the reader is 21 and Yunho is 32, which makes it 11 years of gap.

Side Note: this series will contain 'hyung line' as the professors and the 'maknae line' as minor characters; except for Choi San and Song Mingi, these men are cheeky so look out for them. Again, as my other series, 'the reader' does have a name, i.e, Lee Sherri. Nicknames are bound to follow, so don't worry. I only write names in my oneshots because it's too annoying to write [y/n] everywhere and it ruins my flow of writing. Anyway, enjoy!

Gist: you had a rival in college, yes you did. It wasn't a student, rather the person you hold your grudges against is one of your professors. Now, you're in your senior year of bachelor's degree, running late for a morning class—knowing well he takes this class, what do you think the consequences would be?

Word Count: 12,164

'My dog died.'

No, you don't have a pet!

'My bus was late.'

You live on-campus.

'The coffee shop was crowded.'

You don't freaking have a cup in your hand!

'Umm, I overslept.'

Well, he doesn't need to know the truth.

He really doesn't need to know the truth to why you were running late to his morning class. As time would have it, you did oversleep; lethargic from last night's meaningless meandering from bar to bar, in search of your sober soul, you surely had forgotten about your morning class the next day. Weekends are supposed to be lax and diverting. They're your only shot at having a good time with your friends. You weren't going to let your fear of being reprimanded by your 'favourite' professor stop you from having the fun you deserved. The weekdays were long, tedious and dull with all the lectures and practical sessions to attend.

You're sprinting up the stairs to get to your department; the science building is supposedly long and encompasses all other departments falling into it. Your department (zoology), moreover, your class was situated on the second level of the building. Meeting with the long hallway on your way, which apparently was the physics department, you turn a corner and are merged with another long hallway leading to yours. The grotesque stench of formaldehyde hits your nose the moment you walk past the junior laboratories of your department; that's where they were trying to preserve biological specimens, the 'tingle-your-spine' kind. There are lecture halls and laboratories on one side of the long hallway, while the other side was an open space with concrete railings and pillars; this space opened into the botanical garden the botany department had been tending to, so it housed large trees, a decent number of shrubs and flowering plants, including a variety of cactus and other succulents.

Rushing in your steps, holding your tote bag close to you, your eyes scramble past the open space and the garden onto the walking street of your campus; it was borne with trees on both sides, and amidst the thicket of greenery you find the main building of psychology department. You almost heave out a laugh, reminiscing of the last night when your best friend (who studies psychology) was drunk out of his mind and had been making out with a lamppost. You pull yourself out of that daze, increasing the pace of your sprint to get to your laboratory.

First red flag of your day, the doors to your lab were open wide. Second, your supposedly 'favourite' professor was midway through an explanation about the experiment you were going to perform today. And third, you were technically thirty minutes late to the lab.

Quiet on your feet, you try to sneak inside; the structure of your lab was a little different, with sitting desks on one side of it, and workbenches on the other. In retrospect, this was your senior year's class where apparent lectures took place, and the workbenches were designated for less involved experiments. At the very front of your class/lab is a podium, a chalky black board, and a desk for professor. You glance at the front after realising all students had occupied the workbenches, you catch up on the glimpse of Professor Jeong carrying on with his explanation till his eyes meet yours.

"Miss Lee," he grumbles, amidst his explanation, "sneaking in—" mumbling he checks the time on his wristwatch, the sleeve of his coat riding up, "—a total of thirty minutes late. You better have a good reason."

He folds his arms over his chest, and stares down at you. While you halt midstep into the class, standing straighter you clear your throat and feel your mind stutter looking at him. Why did he have to dress so provocatively? And the outfit in concern was his beige coat and matching pants, a white long sleeved turtleneck underneath; you didn't quite like how your heart was palpitating watching him, keenly grazing your thirst-filled eyes across his face, noticing the shine on his black rimmed glasses and the plumpness of his pink lips.

"Miss Lee?" he repeats, only to get you squeaking, "yes, professor—uh yeah, I was late because my alarm did not go off in the morning..."

He hums in contemplation, eyes narrowing on you before he sighs and shakes his head, "occupy one of the workbenches and do not touch anything before I tell you to."

You nod, pressing your lips tighter to prevent any sound from escaping your throat; you were certainly anxious and embarrassed to be late, but more precisely you were humiliated in front of your class for coming up with such a lame excuse. Sighing, you stuff your tote bag in your locker at the back. You quickly slip on a lab coat over your outfit, bubbling with disappointment as it was hiding your nubile outfit. Knowing you were running late, you still made extreme efforts to dress yourself up—the reason was quite overt, because you wanted to dress up for yourself—you wore a white blouse under a pastel blue sweater vest and paired it with grey skirt which rode up till your mid-thighs. The lacy thigh-high socks were just an added accessory to make yourself seem cute considering you also had a blue ribbon in your hair, holding it in a high ponytail.

The only workbench unoccupied is the one situated at the very end and far from either the professor's desk at the back near the lockers and the podium from where Professor Jeong was reading every movement of yours. When you get to your designated place, you glance at the workstation to take note of the apparatus, before glancing next to you, finding the most obnoxious person you could. Choi San, Choi freaking San was offering you a guileful smile, one whose intentions did not appear to be right, or even ethical.

Bastard.

"So, Miss Lee is late because she couldn't hear her alarm go off? Pathetic," he rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his chest, his own lab coat creasing by the elbows with his plaid shirt peeking from beneath. "I don't believe you—oh well, but I wonder what your favourite professor would think about you when he knows you were getting pissed drunk last night with your friends."

You weigh his words in your mind for a second before furling back a reply. "Aww, Sannie. If you're so desperate to get in my inner circle, just say so. I didn't know you would be so jealous of us..."

San's smile turns into a curve of amusement, "jealous of you? Me? Jealous?" he scoffs, "darling, you're dreaming. If I wanted to be in your inner circle, I would've just slept my way through it."

"Really now?" you retort, smiling softly, "slept with whom?"

"An easy prey to seduce would be you—" he clicks his tongue, "—if you can be so impressed by that..." he nods his head toward Professor Jeong, "...then I believe you'd be swept off your feet if I genuinely try to."

"You put yourself on such a high pedestal, Sannie," you muse, shaking your head lightly, "do you really think my standards are set so low to be dazzled by you?"

"Oh, only time would tell, Miss Lee," he rolls his eyes, keeping his sly smile on. "Maybe, you would get infatuated with me or give into your temptations."

"Ahh, such a dedicated wishful thinker you are," you snide, heaving a low chuckle, "the only thing I'm tempted to do is throw a chair in your fucking face—"

"Miss Lee!" you flinch in your skin, body spasming to the deep and coarse voice of the professor. Hesitant in yourself, you peek up to face him, finding him glaring at you without a twitch on his face. "You certainly are not going to pay attention to my class, then why waste my time? You're free to leave. I don't hold my students captive; the ones passionate about learning find a way to attend my class in any way they could."

Your cheeks heat up, turning a shade of faint cherry red; embarrassment licks your spine and head lowers itself, you won't forget this moment ever. San is busy staring at you, feeling a little guilty but of course he won't let you know that. Shortly after, you glance back at the professor, noticing him staring at you with his lips in a scowl and his eyes piercing through you. That alone, that look alone was enough for you to quiver in your shoes; his persona had always been the intimidating kind, the kind who is self-possessed and doesn't really bother himself with the rest of the world.

Professor Jeong wasn't fazed by anything, not even by the number of female students crushing on him in your department, rather in your class alone. He didn't acknowledge their stupefyingly sexual or overly sensual approaches, turned them down if he thought they were invading his privacy. You took that as a challenge; maybe, maybe not. Your rivalry with him wasn't because he was unapproachable or a forbidden fruit to taste, it was because he always found a way to rattle your senses and make you the fool.

You remember it as clear as a day, at the beginning of your senior year, the very first semester—attending his class on genetics, you were simply taken off by him and his way of speaking. His personality was homely, strict where it should be, however. Amidst his lecture, he caught you talking and joking around with your bench-mate and questioned you about the topic he was teaching.

"If you can yap useless things, then why don't you enlighten me with the working of gel electrophoresis, hmmm...?"

It stung. But not more than him adding, "I'm even surprised you could answer. Maybe you should focus yourself more on your academics than other things."

Other things? You realised he was making comments on your appearance, the way you were dressed, the way you had streaks of gold stitched in your hair, the way you always had playful make up on—he judged you based on that, and thus the profound feud between him and you began. After that, you would intentionally skip his classes and not make an effort to attend them; even the practical sessions, except for the mandatory ones where you would bite your tongue and listen to him demeaning your entire existence for not setting the microscope right.

"Alright, now that I'm done explaining the principle and bits of the procedure, you may follow the same with your partners; if you're muddled with any concern then heed my name." He announces out loud, stepping down from the podium.

You raise your head, further listening to his footsteps dither across the floor to the back of where another table had been put up for teachers' comfort. Though, that's what you thought. The mellow sound of his boots takes an unassuming turn to your row of workbenches, taking you off guard. You're trying to find the meaning behind his detour. Also, you had been oblivious from the start that this practical is supposed to be performed in pairs. And you had no one. Because you were late. Even the slow-witted and stolid transfer student, Reagan Keith had a partner; and her partner was San himself, something you definitely did not see coming.

"Miss Lee," Professor Jeong clears his throat, standing next to you, "I suppose you do not have a partner because of your tardiness, and I happened to pair all my students prior to you, which leaves me no choice but to perform this particular experiment with you. So now, take a brief look at the blackboard and what I've etched on it, try to understand it. Once done, we can surely proceed."

You nod, contemplating, biting your cheek, unable to comprehend the proximity between you two. The dense musk of his scent is wafting all your senses—the redolent scent of vanilla and cinnamon is a deadly concoction to drive you wild. His warmth is superficial, yet the kind which melts your mind with stupefying possibilities, just how he could be—you need to keep your thoughts clean and chaste. Still, you suppress your mind to a corner and peek at the blackboard, studying his neat hand etched on it. The title gave you the rough idea of what you're supposed to do.

'Determination of blood groups.'

Ahh, the title itself foretells the coming inevitable mishap is going to involve blood and blood lancets; you aren't so fond of the needles—no, it wasn't a phobia, you weren't fond of pricking yourself with the help of those lancets. The blue rounded capsules which compassed a sterile needle underneath was beyond torturous to you.

You heave out a deep breath, understanding the further procedure he had inscribed on the blackboard. Familiar with few terms, such as the usage of antiserums, and principle behind the entire procedure, you were relieved. Way more than relieved to know this wasn't something out of your expertise. The nurturing thought of you actually explaining it to him however was too heavy to bear. You clear your throat, fumbling in your words as you dart your eyes anywhere else but at him.

"Yes, Miss Lee, are you done gandering at the procedure?" he gawks, bewildered as if and continues, "now, please enlighten me with the steps so as to we can proceed with the experiment."

"We—we are determining the blood—blood groups," you stutter, not knowing where that came from, you turn your attention onto him, stifling a gasp upon noticing him leaning close to you.

"Go on, Miss Lee," he prompts you with a soft nudge of his head. "I'm sure having to palaver about for the entire day, you could at least narrate the steps to me. All I need is your guidance."

He's playing you again.

"Alright, I will—" your breath hitches in your throat—you witness him effortlessly shrug his coat off, revealing nothing of his skin but the long-sleeved turtleneck he wore under.

"Hmhm, yes...?" he instigates, putting his coat off to a side while he rolls the sleeves of shirt over till his elbows. "What's the first step?"

"Sterilisation." you mutter under your breath.

"Sterilisation of what, Miss Lee?" he teases, keeping a straight; his pushes his glasses further up his nose, which had apparently slipped off a bit.

"Sterilisation of the subject area."

"Okay, tell me which area is most suitable for this test?"

You nod, swallowing thickly as your eyes never leave his. "The tip of the middle finger."

You weren't going to waver, not even when his soft brown eyes were speaking the unbearable at the moment; how can he do that? How can he momentarily torment you with a sly curve of his lips or by the detrimental facade of his eyes?

"And why is that?"

"Tendon sheath—uh, the middle finger has tendon sheath which only limits it to the fingers; as for the thumb and pinky finger, the sheath extends a little further to radial bursae and ulnar bursae—so in case any infection occurs it'll be restricted to the middle finger unlike the thumb or pinky which can lead to the heart." You try your best to explain, forgetting how to breathe in the process.

"You know your stuff," he murmurs, his voice low and cold, "do you see any sterilisation pads on your table?"

Looking around your desk, almost immediately, your eyes lurk on a beaker full of 70% ethanol and cotton swabs. You bring the beaker close to you and reach out for the forceps placed next to it; extending the beaker toward to him, you clear your throat, hoping he'd get on the cue.

"Miss Lee, I'd very much appreciate if you were to perform all the steps involving this practical."

"Right—okay, so..."

You drag your words into a whisper, holding the palm of his hand in yours, while other picks out a cotton swab with the forceps. The piece of cotton rolls to and fro on his skin, rubbing gently. Hearing him wince at the cooling sensation of ethanol against his skin, you stifle a chuckle and let out a sigh; once you were done with sterilising, you reach out for the blood lancets. Picking out one, you rip the cap off to reveal a sterling needle shining with a sharp point.

"Have you done this before, Miss Lee?" he questions as he watches you hesitate with the blood lancet. "Pricking yourself is quite different from pricking others, isn't it?"

You nod because you knew how different it was. In actuality, you're scared. You always were terrified to prick yourself with the needle whenever you were required to and it was mostly during your practical classes involving forensics. The high possibility of piercing your professor's skin, past the point till where it's necessary, was an untold fear you couldn't overcome. But, as you glance up at his docile face adorning an encouraging smile, in addition to the haughty glint in his eyes, you are much more prepared for the consequences.

"I am absolutely terrified when it comes to pricking myself—what if I..." your glance at his hand, then dart your eyes to his, feeling a breath hitch in your throat.

"You won't hurt me," he reassures you, later on compelling you with his words, "any day now, Miss Lee."

The racking nerve in your head forces you to take a deep breath and you're hauling the pointed tip of the lancet close to his finger. You know it takes one sudden nick to break the skin, and you also know you're supposed to be careful and swift with it. Hesitation breaks your conscience, you're still in two minds, still wondering if this was a good idea. Regardless of your abrupt cold feet, you let the lancet pierce through his skin, drawing out a ceaseless stream of blood; Professor Jeong is heedful of his bleeding finger and proceeds to make three blobs of blood on a microscope slide.

He puts the slide back, the glass clinks against the table but it melts into your thoughts—you were ogling him. You notice his veiny hand trembling softly to the unbridled tremors from the cut on his finger, it was attractive. You wouldn't mind admitting it, he has great hands—and sadly, you had a fetish. Trapping your lower lip between your teeth, you admire the little things about him; the proximity faltered to nothing, gave away how spotless his skin was, how sublimely luscious his lips were, and how the tiny specks of green in his eyes were far too evident in the sea of umber. Though, his hands were all you could think about; his porcelain skin, the bulging veins wrapped around his knuckles while they branched further down his hand—uff.

"Miss Lee?" he calls out, snapping his other finger, "please pass me a cotton swab, I need to clean myself."

You were brought back to the reality, seamless kind, a little vapid where you were impelled to keep a safe and healthy 'professor-student' relationship with him.

Hold up!

Where in the world did that come from?

The thought of having something more than 'professor-student' relationship with him.

You and him?

That's a little...

Far-fetched.

Unless...

There was...

There was a way to vex him.

You look back to all the times he's devalued your existence during his classes. The haughty remarks which rolled off his tongue with so much ease to belittle your short-lived efforts in any of his class, or perhaps, in any of the activities your department would plan. A spark in your mind strikes you in a way you couldn't quite explain, but you know you're finding yourself tighten your grip on his wrist. It's oddly satisfying, it's benign in your mind—though, the tiny bulb of tease was going on and off every second you spent staring at him.

There goes nothing.

Without hesitating you bring his hand close to your mouth, your tongue darts out the minute his bleeding finger finds its way in your sight, and you lick up a stripe to clean the blood off his finger. You hear him gasp, a sharp intake of breath which already told you he was bothered by your actions. Continuing to the rhythm of your heart, you wrap your lips around the tip of his finger and give it a soft suckle. Soon, a metallic copper taste slides on your tongue. Such an eerie sight to witness, by your professors and the others too. Especially the spawn of devil who was too busy charming the ditzy transfer student off her feet; if San catches you being this 'type' of friendly with the professor you 'slightly' resent then you probably could never show your face to anyone on the surface of earth. Luckily, San wasn't even sparing a glance at you.

"Miss—Miss Lee?" his voice breaks when he calls out to you again, prompting you to loosen your grip on his hand before you're letting it drop to his side.

"You were supposed to add antiserums to the slide, drop by drop. Now..." he takes a deep breath, noticing your glossy eyes and your plump lips parted; he's definitely resisting his urges. "The blood on the slide is almost..." He glances down at the table. "...it's almost dry. Miss Lee—" he leans in close to your ear, a coarse whisper sending a shiver down your spine, "—I'd like to see you after class."

"Maybe you can justify your actions then."

He leans back and takes a short gander around. Curling his lips up in a riveting smile, he nudges you with a nod. "Add the antiserums now, Miss Lee. All the others have finished performing the experiment."

You're out of your daze, rummaging your eyes around to find many of your classmates are done with their work and had gone to the other side of the lab, where the desks were.

"I'll be checking your practical sheets before you leave, so make sure you complete them all now." he announces out loud in the class, earning muffled groans from his students. "And no excuses."

"You too, Miss Lee," he turns to you, "now, if you will, you have to tell me my blood group. So, go on."

Again, pulling yourself out of the stupor, you nod profusely and proceed to the next step before the blood on your slide is completely dry. You add a drop of each antiserum on the three droplets of blood; waiting for a second, you watch the drop with antisera D and antisera A added begin to clot. To your conclusion, Professor Jeong's blood group is A+ve. All while you did the experiment, his eyes were fixed on you, fixated on your quivering hands and lips every time you tried to do something. In some instances of his mind, he was admiring you and your dedication, and how badly he had rocked your boat into capsizing.

"Good," he muses, his words turning bitter soon, "you sure can do a few things right. Well, all that's left to do is—" he grunts softly as he pulls the sleeves of his shirt back down, while he shrugs on his coat, "—cleaning and writing. Chop chop, Miss Lee. And do not forget you have to wait after class."

With those spine-chilling words he leaves you stranded to your spot; unfortunately, this time San had overheard your conversation. He slides next to you, eyeing your workstation before glancing over at you.

His lips push themselves out into a pout, and he grumbles, "fucked up something?"

"None of your business," you grit your teeth, "get away before I chop your balls off."

"Oh, I'm shivering," he deadpans, nudging his elbow with your ribs, "come on, Lee. Tell me. What did you do for him to ask you to wait after class? We both know he's never done it—in fact he hates it when someone waits after class to 'talk' to him." he emphasises with finger quotes, rolling his eyes at you. "You fucked up big time then."

You heave out a long sigh, "I—just, shut up, San. You're the most annoying person in my life."

Grumbling, you glance at Professor Jeong, he was sitting on his desk at the back of the class, by the lockers. His stare was on you. It was on you from the moment he sat down. And even though you may not know what he was thinking, or wondering about, the glimpse of him having his teeth scratching on his lower lip was enough to let you know what exactly he intended on doing with you.

"Don't drag it out on me," he mumbles, his pout still intact on his face, "although, you're denying the truth, which means you two had an anomalous interaction..."

As he trails off, you roll your eyes at him. Finding the courage to break your eye contact with Professor Jeong, you glare at San and bite your lip. "Yeah, he made me wait after class. It's pertaining to me being late. Now off you go, make yourself useful elsewhere. Maybe, help Reagan find the remaining of her skirt, pretty sure she left it back at her dorms."

San muses for a second before leaning over to stare at the said girl's skirt; she was standing by the lockers chattering with someone. His face twitches smugly, his brows creasing as he checks her out.

"Oh, no no! That does seem more important than dealing with you, Lee." he smirks, biting his lower lip, "see you around, try not to get too infatuated with your favourite professor."

Sauntering away from you, he loses his lab coat and then engages himself with Reagan. You project your frustrations into a sigh and begin cleaning your workbench before heading to the lockers to retrieve your bag and other items. Walking past the professor was a challenge in itself because you were too fazed in your mind by everything he did. Though, you could really say you were fuddled over his decision to make you wait after class. Anyone could tell you exactly how much he despised his students waiting after class, 'cause most of the times it would be the absurd number of female students trying to confess their feelings for him. You could sympathise with him, understand where he was coming from because you would find yourself in a similar situation; you were well sought to in your department, endless confessions, profuse gestures of affection, what not.

Regardless, you realised what you wanted in a man. It was the professor himself.

"Miss Lee, I need your practical journal completed." he speaks up as you're walking past his desk with your tote bag on your shoulder and your lab coat neatly folded in your hands. "You know what, I'll go through it after class. Till then, get your write-ups done."

Offering you a redolent smile, he tears his eyes off you. You swallow thickly, knowing well how ineptly stuck you were with him, after class too. And one more fact, your practical journal was incomplete—blank at the most, which was a catastrophe in the waiting. As the fear creeps up your spine, you bite your cheek and stumble onto an empty desk, settling yourself down to catch a breath.

Time passes in a haste, without bounds, and soon the moment you dreaded arrives with a tinkering bell on it. The class is empty, except for you and Professor Jeong. You could listen to him breathe, placidly whistle out a grumble a few times since he was busy with something you didn't feel the need to pay attention to. The clock on the wall ticks again and you're gathering your stuff before 'sneaking' out of the class. If his attention is solely saturated over something useless to you, then he probably won't even notice you gone.

At least that's what you thought.

"Miss Lee, I must remind you of our little parley where I asked you to wait after class." He doesn't even peek from the file he was reading, and continues, "don't think I can't see you sneaking away."

You stop in your steps, right in front of the open door with a few students lurking behind in the corridor. Stifling a groan, you roll your eyes and turn around on your feet. The man is sat poised in his chair, his lips curved in a smirk as he's staring right through you. Your heart skips a beat, yes too cliche, but you felt its arrhythmic vibrations ring your ears.

"Are there any students loitering in the corridor?" he questions and you nod to it, pressing your lips together. "Wait for them to leave and then lock the doors."

Why?

Lock the doors?

Why lock the doors?

Now your heart was pounding in that bony little cage of yours. Sooner or later, you would find it either in your throat or your guts that is if he continues to stare at you with the intensity of sun. Quite lost in the trance of his melancholic yet concupiscent eyes, you start nibbling on your lower lip, wanting to squeeze your thighs together to rid yourself of the tension you felt in your cunt. The chatters start dithering outside, ascending to the wind of nothing and it brings peace to your mind; not that it wasn't peaceful before, but now, it's just you and him caught in a void of infatuation.

"Do not take my intentions in the wrong way, Miss Lee. I am not so fond of disturbances during one-on-one student session..." he explains, going back to reading his file. Though, after a while he clears his throat and prompts you, "any moment now, Miss Lee."

"Yea—yeah," you stutter, sensing your throat close up.

Taking a step forward you close the latches on the door. The exhilaration of you being alone with him is sort of distorted in your head when you make your way towards his desk. What does he have in his mind? What does he want from you? Is this one of his many ways to make you feel small and little? Like all the times he does when you're attending his classes or so.

The look in his eyes has a spark of joy, just humming across the field of brown containing his pep. Those same eyes follow you around, till you're in front of him; his face shows no emotion, except for that straight line of his lips.

"Would you need an invitation, Miss Lee? Your binder, please." he asks, peeking up at through his long lashes and the black rimmed glasses. The glare on them makes it hard for you to read his eyes this time.

You clear your throat, and fumble with your bag to take the thick binder out. Pages furled out of it, a few flying off to fall on the ground, while a few remained stuck in amidst the others; you could tell Professor Jeong wasn't too happy with the condition of your binder. To be fair, this binder was your repository for all performed experiments so far. Nonetheless, your binder was...incomplete. Biting your lip, you place your binder on the table in front of him.

He eyes it for a moment before grabbing it in his hands and flipping the pages. You couldn't resist holding him on a high regard; his sleek fingers pinching the edges of the pages, turning them, eyes rummaging along the lines, and his parted lips which could tell he was contemplating.

"I certainly did not expect this from you, Miss Lee." he clicks his tongue, "now that I see it for myself, I can't help but agree with my initial remark about you. I would suggest you focus more on your academics rather than wasting your time with your friends and ambling through your life."

He sighs in defeat, mostly disappointment and slides your binder towards you across the table. Pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, he takes a deep breath and turns his head to you, his face expressing nothing at all.

"Life's not all about strolling through one club then to another. And while you do that, I can't sit back and watch you ruin your potential, Miss Lee," he sucks his teeth, as he continues to berate you with his words, "you're in the running for most proficient student in our department, alongside Mr. Choi. Now, would you be delighted to bear a consequence where he holds the trophy and not you? All because of what...? Some fiddling people you call your friends whose only job is to drag you out to buzzing clubs and what not."

Listening to him hound your existence, your heart suddenly weighs down in your chest, it grows heavy till it touches your gut. Oh no, you were letting it affect your state of mind. On the verge of tears, you look away from him and fixate your blurry vision on the floor; it was overbearing to hold his eyes, to wallow in the disappointment he held in them. Moreover, you didn't want him to see you cry, or shed a tear for that matter because you know you were close. Very close.

You sniffle softly, lowering your head furthermore to avoid to his gaze.

"Miss Lee?"

Silence.

You don't care for the concern his voice shows and continue to toil yourself on the contrasting hue of morning sun and the grey tiles. Blurry vision captures the indefinite shadows of lockers, some bookshelves—the sun was crawling overhead, witnessing your derision with your professor. You don't try to pay him any mind, not that you could even if you wanted to. There's a possible reason to why you don't want to, maybe the answer lies in your uncertain infatuation with him, or maybe it does prove your outlandish feelings for him. Which one of it was genuine?

A small moment passes between you two, roiling in tranquil haze before he clicks his tongue and drawls on a breath. "And to speak on your furtive behaviour—"

"Why do you hate me?"

A beat of serenity yanks his attention.

"What do you mean, Miss Lee?"

"I asked, why do you hate me so much?"

You glance up at him, preparing your unfazed mind for his reaction to your reddened cheeks and nose, and the obvious streaks of tears down your cheeks. The muscles on his face twitch even if it was indiscernible to the moment, you study him; he reveals a speck of pity in his eyes, so pathetic for you to think he'd pity you.

"Sherri?"

His lips quiver so delicately, calling out your name in a sleek yet coarse voice. It was the first time he'd ever called out your name, enunciated each syllable in his utmost trepidation as if he really cared for you. That alone was enough to cause a havoc in your heart, dwindling it further down to your...maybe it was the way he spoke your name out, but you were definitely feeling a spark strike in your pussy.

"I do not despise you, Sherri," he softly murmurs, looking away from you for a long minute before trailing his pitiful eyes back on you. "If my actions have made you—"

"—you always belittle me, humiliate me in front of the class and pretend to act as if you do it all because you care." you ramble, "you don't care about my feelings! All you can think is how to make me fall from my grace. Isn't it?"

You shake your head and bring your hands up to wipe your tears off, which had uncontrollably gushed out of your eyes while you had your meltdown. Your tote bag falls onto the floor with a soft thud, and you pay no mind to it. The hyperventilation soon kicks in, suffocating your lungs with a want to break free from your chest, and your stomach littered with unwanted butterflies fluttering along. More tears slide out of your eyes, and you lose your capability to see clearer.

The dainty streaks of torment on your cheeks, your tears, and your flushed face was a huge turn on for him; he could not probably free himself from his fetish, but his philia for tears or anything remotely close to it, always excited his cock. He shifts in his seat, spreading his legs apart under the desk to free himself from the strain in his pants. Oh how badly he had been aroused, by just watching you cry.

"Sherri, you're mistaking my concern for bullying; fuck! Why would I want to torment or humiliate you in front of the class?" he questions, such dainty voice breaking your heart and making you feel pathetic to sob in front of him.

"Come here."

He lures you in with his soft voice, and a frail tug of his lips; his smile had already proved to be devastating to you and even the slightest of it can make you, his puppet. Without realising it, you're taking short strides around the table to be by his side. He has his hand extended in front of you, something you didn't quite understand until you hold it in hesitation, and he pulls you down on his lap.

You gasp, and then yelp when you land on his lap; at first you find yourself uncomfortable in his embrace but giving it a little time, you relax and settle down, still with a bit of unease. His arms wrap themselves around your waist and he leans close to rest his chin on your shoulder as you sit sideways on his lap. Ambiguous swirls of darkness cover his eyes, and your breath hitches trying to unravel his true intentions. Instead, you were starting to get comfortable with him.

"I do not resent you for who you are, Sherri," he begins with a whispery breath, rubbing your back as he does. "I resent myself for being so helplessly bound under your spell."

Your lips part open, your chest heaves up and down erratically to constrain your wildly pounding heart. Oh, you were gone, you most definitely were.

"Projecting my bitter disposition on you was a mechanism I sought to cope my untamed desire—the ugly desire to taste this forbidden fruit." Mumbling, he turns his head and traces his lips along your neck, kissing and sucking. "Holy fuck, this body of yours...those lips, you don't know how much I crave them."

His hands tighten around your waist, and you gasp for air, "Professor Jeong, this isn't ethical. You're violating the university policy...ah!"

He bites down on your neck, grabbing enough flesh in between his teeth to suck on it. That's going to leave a pretty purple bruise behind, all in its glory, on your neck—so fucking attractive to you. Pressing down on a moan, you drag your hands to his shoulders, hoping to shove him off to disturb his grip on you. Though you thought. It wasn't easy to make him budge, he wasn't letting you go, and you were gradually falling into that realisation.

"I could lose my job," he whispers, chuckling softly, "I can fucking lose my job if I engage with you, if I make my vile thoughts a reality but I can't control myself any longer, I need you, I need to ruin you—I know you feel the same way about me. Don't you, Sherri?" he nibbles on your earlobe, his hot breath fanning your ear. "Aren't your intentions the same as me, huh?"

"No." you mumble.

"No?"

You shake your head.

He doesn't believe you.

"Sherri, oh you beautiful liar," he sighs, his lips now curling into a smirk, "didn't you think of something else when you were sucking my finger off, hmm?"

You pout, not wanting to answer or have him the satisfaction of being right; instead, you start shuffling on his lap to get out of his hold. Squirming in his lap, you press your butt against his crotch, accidentally touching his hardened cock. It continues to poke your ass, and his fingers dig into your skin when his hold tightens on your waist. You were making it worse, it was visible on his face in the form of quivering lips and shut eyes.

"Don't move...!" he warns you, pressing your lower body against his lap, keeping you fixed in one place. "You'll make me...fuck. You do this on purpose, don't you?"

You stop moving—well you had no choice but to when his brute strength was holding you down against him. "I don't. I haven't done anything on purpose."

Lying is so easy. But him believing it has to be easy too. Though at this point you knew you were teasing him.

"Sherri, don't lie." He peels his eyes open and takes a sharp breath in, "get on your knees."

You gulp. Knees? He wants you on your knees...? That's...really fucking hot.

Eagerly, you crawl out of his lap as he gives you the chance to, keeping his hands to his side. He repositions his chair in a way to face you, as you're kneeling down in front of him, by the side of the table. There's not much distance between you, and the dithered proximity makes your heart palpitate with anticipation.

What was he going to do?

Your mind raced with the possibilities. Was he going to shove his 'obvious' boner down your throat? Was he going to make you ride him? What was his hauntingly beautiful mind thinking about?

"An obedient teacher's pet, how adorable," he coos, stroking his hand over your head as if to pet you.

"Professor..."

"Shush...!" he leans over, closely watching you with his fervent eyes. Out of nowhere the warmth of his thumb engulfs of your cheek. "Not a sound."

Brushing his thumb across, he collects a drop of your tear and brings it close to his mouth. He wraps his lips around his thumb and gives it a good suck; his eyes intently fixed on yours, delineating his intentions. You nod your head and watch him straighten his back to relax against the chair. His eyes glance over at the door for a minor second before he fixes them back on you; with a lilting smirk, he grabs the wooden pointer stick from his table and slaps its tip on the palm of his other hand. The same hand rubs along the length of it until his forefinger traces the tip before holding it in his one hand.

You couldn't help but gulp again, feeling aroused by his hand, and the way it was pumping the stick to and fro. Lowering yourself on your calves, you try to squeeze your thighs together. You wanted to ease your muscles, wanted to rid yourself of the tightness in your cunt because you were beyond wet for him.

"Hands behind your back," he commands, and you oblige without hesitation. "I asked you to be on your knees for me..." he softly mutters, tapping the stick twice on the floor to get you back on your knees.

You do that too; completely unaware of his next move. He drags the stick from the ground to you, to the hem of your skirt and lifts it up—exposing your ruined panties to him.

"Tsk, wet already?" he heaves out a breath, "do I really affect you that much?"

"Yes," you swallow and mumble, "you do."

"Hmm," he muses, humming his words along later, "that makes me want you even more."

With his other hand he takes his glasses off and flings them on the table. He pushes the stick further up till your waist to completely expose your dripping wet panties and your cunt; he licks his lips at the sight, his instincts running wild in his mind. Your hands were perfectly slotted in the small of your back, tightly wound together to appease the tension.

"Ah..fuck," you groan when you feel the wooden stick rub your cunt; he had angled it in such a way that it kept your skirt from falling down and it also gave him enough access to drag it along your slit. "Please, professor, I want you."

Listening to you mewl, his smirk widens, and he slurs his words, "now you want me, Miss Lee? Un-fucking-believable."

He picks up his pace, letting the stick rub itself perfectly against your slit; your cunt clenches around nothing, aching to have something in between, something to fill you up. You writhe in desperation, shifting your weight from one leg to another. Unable to contain yourself, you start grinding yourself against the stick, upon noticing it, he halts his movements and watches you with amusement. Casing his lips into a pout, he traces his forefinger on his lower lip; he's contemplating, mirthfully watching you pleasure yourself on the stick. You bring both of your hands to the front, holding the stick to stabilise it before you increase the pace of hips grinding down.

"Aww, is my little brat getting excited?" he scoffs, shaking his head lightly.

You press your lips together and nod your head, closing your eyes shut to the budding pleasure crawling up your body. Second by second, your sanity shrinks to nothing, making you loosen your grip on the stick. From the corner of your half-lidded eye, you watch him offer you a conceited smile, clearing his intentions out when he pulls the stick from between your legs and slides it up to your chin. Tapping its tip twice to your chin, he gets your attention on him with your eyes wide in anticipation.

He spreads his legs wider in front of you, putting his cock on a glorious display as it tightens in his pants; the outline of his cock figuratively makes you swallow a thick gulp of air. Keeping your head high with the stick, he uses his other hand to palm his crotch, gently wrapping his fingers around his cock to give it a few half-hearted pumps through his pants. With a nudge of his head, he drops the stick to a side and gestures you to come close. Biting your tongue, you crawl towards him, your heart in your throat now. Maybe it was the anticipation, the eagerness to see him bare and under the griming influence of your pleasure, but you were slightly alarmed to find yourself slotted in between his legs.

"Let's get my brat what she wants," he whispers further shifting comfortably in his hair. "Such hungry eyes gawking at the sight of my cock," he grabs your jaw lightly and strokes his thumb under your chin. He tuts, "I get these looks a lot but there's something about you— something about the way you're drooling over my cock."

You let your teeth sink deep in your lower lip, while your lips twitch into a soft smile of amusement. "Am I turning you on, professor?"

You release your lip from your teeth's grip, and he watches it wobble in a daze while you lean close and place your hands on either of his thighs. Rubbing circles with your fingertips on his thighs, you take a deep breath to calm your nerves.

"If that wasn't the case you wouldn't be here, Miss Lee. Kneeling between my legs, ready to take my cock in your mouth, hmm?" he suggestively murmurs, dragging his thumb to your lips till he forces it in your mouth. "Now, open wide."

Using his other hand, he fumbles with the buckle of his belt. While he does manage to get it undone, you decide to suck on his thumb which was still fixed in your mouth; you lick around, blatantly ignoring his rugged skin. You hear him grunt ever so gently to your mouth wrapped around his thumb, tingling with excitement to know what it would be like to have this same warmth around his cock. Everything passes in a haze when he restlessly tugs down on his pants and briefs at the same time; you notice him take his thumb out of his mouth and instead he replaces it with his cock.

The reddened tip of his cock nudges against your lips and you open wide, lowering yourself down on his cock—though, only halfway considering his length would take you long to adjust to while the thick girth already made the corners of your mouth sting. He holds your neck, his fingers delicately splayed on the nape as he pushes you down, however he's mindful of you and how much you can take in. You start stroking the remaining of his shaft—which you would eventually have to swallow deep in your mouth.

"Fuck, you're driving me insane with your mouth, I might..." he trails his words off into a low groan, beginning to thrust himself into your mouth. "I'm not going to last long, am I?"

He taunts, digging his fingers into your skin as he pushes your head further down on his cock; his thrusts become too sloppy, and you don't pay much mind to it. You are too focused on widening your mouth around his cock to fit him fully inside. Feeling the tip of his cock brush against your throat, you almost gag; your throat tightens, and the suffocation starts sneaking up on you, but you push yourself through and sink lower on his cock.

"Fuck, such a good brat, taking me in so well," he whimpers coarsely, "but this little brat needs to be punished for making me break my rules."

You gaze up at him with your teary eyes, softening them as he looks down at you too. Nodding your head, you hollow your cheeks and bop your head up and down after adjusting to his size. Your fingers dig into his fleshy thighs, constraining your moans with his cock stuffed in your mouth, you keep staring up at him till a few drops of tears cascade down your cheeks. He brings his other hand to caress your cheeks, thumb stroking off the tears as he doesn't let go of your head. You're on the verge of gagging on his cock, choking even, but disregarding your gag reflex, he bucks his hips into your face and his cock slides further down your throat. Unable to hold onto your moans and whimpers, you try to make a sound—the vibrations send him reeling from pleasure, he throws his head back and tightens his hold on your neck.

"Can't make a sound because my cock is—your mouth is stuffed with my cock, isn't it?" he teases, closing his eyes shut to relish the wetness and warmth of your mouth. "Don't worry—I won't—I won't cum too soon. My brat deserves a little—a little bit of fun even if she's being pun—punished."

His stutter was absolutely beautiful, it showed how much of a mess he was with your mouth wrapped around his cock, engulfed in the devious warmth of it. Somehow, it gave you a sense of victory, a sense of peace to know you had gotten him on his edge with only your mouth and nothing else. The saltiness of his precum floods your mouth—it makes you retch a bit regardless of that, you continue sucking him off while his thrusts are slow and steady. In the meantime, he pulls his untucked shirt above till his chest and holds it there; he pushes your head further down on his cock, till your nose is pressed against his pubic bone and your skin feels ticklish from his trimmed pubic hair.

His chest is rising and falling at an alarming rate; he surely was a mess, and you liked seeing it. When you peek up at him with your still-teary eyes, you notice sweat covering his forehead, making his hair stick to his skin while his cheeks are flushed with a shade of red. How adorable. How fucking adorable. The ever so haughty and stoic professor was writhing under your touches, with how you lapped your tongue under his shaft and purposely sucked your cheeks in to make it tight.

In actuality, you were really driving him wild; his grip on your neck loosens a bit for a hot second and he uses that time to let his hand entangle in your hair. You didn't realise when you groped his thighs for support, even so, your nails had dug deep enough to leave behind crescent marks on his skin, the kind which would fluster with a brutal purple tint tomorrow. Grasping a proper hold on your hair, he pulls you back and frees his cock from his mouth; a vile 'pop' sound resounds in the room while he does so.

The moment his cock is out of your mouth, you gasp for air, you swallow huge lugs of air through your mouth and glance at him with dazed eyes. His thick and veiny cock was slick with your spit, shining softly under the lights while a few strings of your saliva still connected your lips and his shaft. Your drool had covered every inch of his cock and had also slithered down your chin. The sensation in your mouth was a little sticky and salty from his precum. You keep your mouth wide open and wipe off the drool using the back of your hand; he smugly chuckles, eyes on you like a predator.

"Need to take a break?" he taunts you, belittling your presence and you shake your head to a no. Leaning over, he cups your face in both of his hands and grazes his eyes along your chest and exposed thighs.

"Get up."

Again, his domineering voice forces you to oblige, and you get on your wobbly feet—feeling your throat sore and tight from his cock hitting constantly, you swallow enough amount of spit and try to wash the sting down. He notices it but doesn't say much. His hands slide down from your face and hold your waist as you stand in front him; without any doubt, he pushes your front against the desk and makes you bend over. One hand on the collar of your blouse, and other on the small of your back; he keeps you in that position while he takes his time to shimmy his pants and briefs down till his knees. He positions himself behind you, managing to push your skirt up on your back to expose your dripping wet panties and your cunt. Your wet panties were driving him wild; his breathing becomes even more ragged when he snaps at the waistband and pulls them down to your knees. He swallows thickly when his thirsty eyes lurk over your glistening wet cunt, clenching around nothing for the time being.

"This wet cunt is going to take in every inch of me...fuck," he curses his under his breath while he smoothens his hand on one of your buttcheeks. "But we can't forget about your punishment, can we?"

He flattens his palm against your ass, keeping you pressed against the desk with his hand on your neck; you whimper in anticipation and hold onto the edge of the desk till your knuckles turn while. Anticipation makes you wiggle your ass slightly, as you're on your tippy toes and perfectly bent over the desk.

"No, we can't," you heave out a shaky sigh, not able to control your excitement anymore. "How are you going to punish me, professor?"

You sneer in your seductive voice, slurring your words against your rounded lips to get a reaction out of him. Having your vision limited to the empty classroom and the workbenches, the exhilaration of not knowing what he was going to do, makes you even wetter.

Yunho knows how vile your mind is, he knows the wet patch on your panties continues to grow the more he teases you and honestly, he wasn't complaining. He liked it as much as you did, but he hid it well in his composed speech and relaxed movements.

"There's only one way to punish a brat like you," he grunts, slapping one of your buttcheeks, "count them."

So, you were getting spanked. Such a fitting punishment for a brat like you, by a professor too—why did it feel like you were trapped in a low-budget student-professor porn movie? You can't complain anyway, you were absolutely absorbed in the trance of your pleasure and his hands caressing your butt.

You nod and thus begins the punishment.

Slap!

"One," you mewl, feeling his hand burn on your skin.

Slap!

"Two," your breath hitches when you go to say it out loud, your skin stinging from his hand.

Slap!

"Thr—three!" you groan out loudly, the impact jolting your body against the top of the desk.

This one stung like a bitch.

Slap!

Without any warning, he adds one more spank to the same buttcheek before moving onto the other. He offers it a soft squeeze first, and then pulls his hand back and flattens his palm over it.

Slap!

"How many were those, huh?" he asks your mind fiddles with the remaining brain cells—how many were those? Really. How many?

"Si—six," you somehow manage to sputter, your spit falling on the desk in front of you.

"Good girl," he praises, rubbing his hand on your buttcheek before tracing it down to your folds. His fingers press and nudge against your folds until he rams one finger along your slit. Pushing down, wedging his finger deep inside, he watches your juices coat the length of his finger before he brings it to his nose to give it a good sniff. "I wonder if you're enjoying this punishment, pup. Are you? Are you enjoying this punishment...?"

First, your mind goes haywire when he teases you with that nickname. Pup. Well, you were turning out to be his pet, you might as well roll along with it.

Second, you were certainly enjoying the punishment, liking the way his hands were able to engulf your entire buttcheek at once.

Third, you're forced to slip out of your sanity when he aligns his cock with your hole and slowly sinks in. Your aroused juices proved helpful for him to slip right in. You suddenly start feeling full, the stretch of your walls subsiding into a soothing ache and then it sublimes completely into pleasure. Your desires were getting quenched; inch by inch your cunt swallows him whole, the burn on your walls now pacified by him. He doesn't move when he bottoms out, he keeps his cock sucked deep in you. Keeping one hand on the small of his back, he pushes your nimble body further against the desk—your back arches inwards and prodding your ass out for his easy access.

"Fuck, such a tight cunt. Got no one to loosen it out, Miss Lee?" he smirks, grunting at the way your walls clenched around him and remains unmoving. "Don't worry, I'll fuck it loose—fuck," you tighten around him listening to his wispy words, "do you want me to, huh, pup? Do you want me to fuck you loose?"

"Yeah—yeah, yeah I'd like that," you murmur, your brain turned into a mush and your body shuddering as he slowly, very slowly, starts moving. He doesn't pull out completely, he keeps his cock buried deep in you and slides in and out at a leisure pace.

"Of course, my pup would like to get fucked senseless," he mumbles, slapping one of your buttcheeks again.

You were fully sure his hand was now printed on your skin in a bright red shade; the soreness didn't matter because the thrill was eating you up and turning it into bliss. Biting back a moan, you keep your breathing steady. Though, you feel your chest shatter entirely when he picks up his pace. Your fingernails start scratching at the varnish on the table, a bit of it getting stuck in them.

"Yes, prof—professor..." you groan, stuttering with his thrusts.

"Nuh-huh, for an obedient puppy like you, I'm your master," he slides his cock out, and rams back into you, letting it plunge deep, "what should you—should you call me, pup?"

"Master," you breathe out, exasperated. "Master, please go faster, fuck! Fuck me harder please, breed your little pup." You cry, genuinely letting tears streak down your cheeks; you were weak already, holding out till he would increase the rhythm of his merciless thrusts.

Something goes off in his head, his hips start snapping at an animalistic pace with your body thrashing against the wooden desk; his hands are all over you, touching you, caressing you, leaving his marks on you. Though, at a point he brings one of his hands to the curve of your back, while his other hand winds itself around your thigh. Seeming seconds drag on with his thrusts curt and sharp, his cock reaching deep in your cunt till you could feel it tauten in the pit of your stomach. Yunho could sense your walls clench around his cock, not liking it one bit—his thrusts start faltering, gradually coming to a halt.

Still buried deep in you, he leans over your back—inching close to your neck, he bites down harshly before whispering, "does my pup want to cum?"

You could discern the slyness in his voice, and you nod your head with your mouth agape, drool glistening down your lower lip and staining your chin. Bearing his size, tuning with his blunt thrusts, and the way his tip was abusing your sweet spot, it was all too much, sending you into a sensory overdrive. At this point, you had zero comprehensible thoughts in your mind except for the heinous acts you were weaving into your body: all of them being about your professor and his huge dick.

"Well, then my pup has to wait a little longer," he grunts close to your ear and then straightens himself up, "master isn't done with his pup yet."

"Can my pup wait a little longer?" he presses his hand down on your back, reluctantly making your walls clench around him.

You're left with no choice but to nod your head again, and it satisfies him; his gradually starts moving again, keeping his thrusts steady and slow. He lets you adjust to him again, and eventually increases his pace. Pulling and shoving himself into you, he starts bucking his hips into your thighs, his grip tightening till his knuckles turn white while you hold onto the edge of the table like your life depended on it. Your body oscillates to and fro, colliding and thumping with the wooden table with his every thrust. The sound of clothes crumpling, and the rattling of his belt buckle, makes your heart race harder in your chest.

You had never imagined you'd be caught in this situation; not that you didn't imagine or fantasise it, you didn't think it'd become a reality. Yeah, it's true that you had countless fantasises about your professor, one of them being fucked while you're bent over his desk—but the probability of him actually fucking you was one in a twenty, considering there were twenty female students in your class. Skin slapping against skin, his cock thrashing balls deep in your tight cunt, you were still mewling in your mind for more. The sensation was diabolical in a way, clustering your brain with unwanted thoughts—hell, you had lost it.

A known tightness tangles itself in your gut, your stomach cherishing the last bit of butterflies it felt before knowing you would flood down on his cock soon. Your senses drop, your stomach twists and knots, your heart runs a miles per hour because his thrusts were helping you chase your high. You were so sure he was going to let you take a break, let you ease out the tightness in your stomach; but to your unbridled surprise, he doesn't. His movements dither, slowing down till he comes to a stop again; he's still buried deep in you, and somehow that caused you more pain than his actual thrusts.

"Aww, my pup is too eager to get off," he mumbles, throwing his head back in pure bliss from your walls still clenched around him, but then he feels you loosen, and he starts pounding into you with a gentle tempo. "Not so soon. You're still getting punished."

He drags on for an hour or so, his thrusts stopping completely sometimes, his cock buried deep in your warmth—eventually he would pick up his pace and ram into your tight little cunt as if it was the last thing he wanted. You had been denied your orgasm a few times, counting it, you had been denied three times so far. Though that pleasure was turning into pain, your belly ached with every inch of strain his cock put on your cunt. Your stomach knots itself for the fourth time, your legs trembling and your yearning crossing your threshold to hold your orgasm in.

The familiarity only grows in your gut, your walls puckering around his cock to milk out his own orgasm; but he knows how to play it off well, he wasn't going to cum before you did. Pressing back into your thighs, he remains unmoving for a second before picking up his pace again, his cock plunges into the deeper void of your cunt, almost protruding the walls to your gut. You have lost your voice to make a sound, one thing—but the other thing was you weren't supposed to make a lot of noise. Swallowing your moans and grunts, you feel your high washing over; your walls tighten around his cock one last time before they're coming undone—releasing you juices all over his cock. Some of it squirts around as his cock still keeps plunging deep into you, a few drops stain his abdomen and get absorbed in his clothes, but he doesn't seem too bothered by it.

"My pup made a mess on my cock," he grumbles, closing his eyes shut as he helps you ease your cunt with a few of his concise and brief thrust. His thighs collide with yours, heat growing between your bodies and your skin slick from sweat and your orgasm. "Such a pretty pup, such a beautiful little baby..." he rambles on his own, incoherent and inaudible, but mostly it was him losing his mind over the trickling warmth of your arousal.

His thrusts become sloppy once he knows he's reaching his high; but he doesn't give out just yet. With a couple more longing and concise thrusts, he lets himself drive his cock deep into your warmth—he counts down the minutes with his ambling pokes till it becomes unbearable for him to hold out. Taking a deep breath and arching his back to let his cock plunge deep, he slides one of his hands on your lower back—pressing, pushing, digging his fingers and palm in your flesh, he releases himself in deep in you. With every thrust, he keeps pulling out till he completely slides out of you. He smirks at the sight his eyes behold, twinkling with a yearning no one knows, not even you; his load dribbles down your pussy, staining your skin in stark white shade, as some of it spurts on your inner thighs.

You're breathless, too fucked to understand anything and thus you couldn't register your surroundings quite well when he flips you over. Grabbing your shoulders, he pushes you down on the ground, having you kneel before him with his cock near your mouth. The veins on his cock were less bulged than before, but his shaft was coated in a thin layer of his cum and glints a bit with your juices.

"Clean me up, pup."

His order doesn't go unheard by you, and as the loyal little puppy you are to him, you hold on to the sides of his thighs and lean in to lick his cock off. At first, it's a weird concoction of saltiness and a little bit of sweetness, soon it fades to nothing. You lap your tongue around his shaft, over and under his tip till you've cleared everything off from his cock—you pull back, smiling dizzily because you were delighted to help him out. Half-lidded eyes trace a line up and you find him staring at down at you, his hand in the process to grab your jaw. Caressing your chin, he pulls you up on your feet and helps you sit on the desk before wrapping his arms around your waist to pull himself closer to you.

"Miss Lee," he whispers, "I'm sure the post-orgasm clarity is now sinking in both of our minds, but we certainly need to address the elephant in the room."

You lean forward to rest your head on his chest, closing your eyes shut for a moment, you take a deep breath in and relax your tensed muscles. "Professor Jeong...I've wanted this to happen for a long time."

"So, you have no regard for me losing my job, do you?" he teases, rubbing circles on your back to soothe you, "Lee Sherri, you really are a brat. Making me break my rules."

"What rules?" you grin, peeking up at him as your wrap your arms around his broad chest.

"I don't date my students," he murmurs, pecking your forehead.

"Who's suggesting you date me?" you chuckle, shaking your head, "we can be fuck buddies."

"Is that what you call it nowadays?" he laughs, heartily, pouting down at you as he continues, "we'll have to be really careful, Sherri. Can't have anyone knowing about us—"

Knock knock!

Your eyes go wide, your heart thumps in your chest and your lips start quivering in fear. On the other hand, Yunho is pretty tame, and he only offers you a reassuring smile.

"Straighten out your clothes and relax. It's no stranger, I've been expecting him actually," he mumbles, breaking apart from your embrace to pull his pants and briefs up.

Whilst he is buttoning his pants and buckling the belt, you too tug your panties up and hop off the desk. You try to smoothen out the creases on your skirt and blouse—your white lacy socks were stained with dust at the knees, but you didn't care about it. The clutter of papers on the desk remains as it is, neither of you bothered to organise it. Professor Jeong smiles at you warmly before heading to the door of the classroom, he unlocks the latch and pulls the doors inside to reveal another man with tall silhouette standing there.

Professor Song.

"Since when have you been locking your doors, Yun?" the latter teasingly mutters and chortles, stepping past his friend and entering the classroom which reeks of sweat and sex. He sniffs the air and along the lines his eyes land on you, "ah. So, you were having "one-on-one" with your student."

Professor Song wasn't a professor from your department, he was the heartthrob of the physics department, seemingly the kind who would definitely not have any sentiments towards his students or anyone younger to him for that matter. Clad in a plaid shirt and khakis, he too had a body worth breaking the laws for; his toned biceps bulged out of the sleeves he had rolled over to his elbows, his thick thighs (which you've fantasied riding on) were defined by his tight khakis, and hazel eyes were piercing through you with curiosity.

"Miss Lee and I were just discussing, weren't we, Miss Lee?" Yunho calls out from behind him, tugging down on the crotch of his pants for some apparent reason.

"Discussing what?"

You shift your weight on your feet, standing an inch away from the desk (where you were just railed by your professor) and you pull down on your skirt, not knowing why you felt the need to. You eye your tote bag fallen down on the floor, then at the mess of your binder on the table, and one thing becomes clear which is you and Professor Jeong did fuck on the table.

"I was chiding her for not completing her experimental write-ups, Min," Yunho adds, scratching the back of his neck as he comes to stand next to him. "Miss Lee, we'll have a proper discussion about your careless behaviour next time, perhaps tomorrow. Now, you may leave."

You nod, "ye—yes professor."

Hastily, you sprint out of the classroom after gathering your things and stuffing them in your bag in a haphazard way; meanwhile Mingi rolls his eyes at his friend and scoffs.

"Lie to someone else, Yun."

"Fuck you," he grumbles before a conceited smirk takes over his face.

"If you keep your trap shut, maybe we can share."

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