Word count: 1,405 | Kiss only no smut | <tbh, I'm not sure what I wrote here.. so good luck if you still want to read. Also I'll be doing more Si-eun fic cz I'm obsessed.>
You were suspended for a week after getting in a fight with some punk from another school. When you came back, Su-ho, your best friend, was hanging out with Si-eun, the quiet, top-of-the-class guy while you were gone.
Apparently he fought back against some bully in the class and sent him to the hospital for getting question wrong in a mock test. Wild, right?
You’ve always been kinda curious about him, but this is the first time you’ve even stood this close to him—let alone talked to him.
"I were gone for only a week and you already searched for a new buddy?" You said, plopping down in front of Su-ho's desk—your usual spot.
"Yeah and he's cooler than you." Su-ho said with a shrug.
You kicked Su-ho’s chair lightly, "Wow. Ok rude."
You turned to Si-eun—and your eyes locked.
His eyes were... pretty. Like, unfairly pretty. You realized you’ve been staring too long. Like… too long.
You cleared your throat, shoved your hand forward, and blurt, "Let’s be friends or rivals or—I don’t know, just don’t stab me in the back like Su-ho did."
Si-eun just blinked. "I don’t stab people. Usually." Si-eun takes your hand. His grip was warmer than you expected.
Su-ho immediately broke the moment with a loud, obnoxious laugh. "God, you two are weird already. I love this."
From that day on, you guys hung out together.
---
The air was crisp, your shift finally over, and your back was aching from standing too long. But the city lights looked kind of nice, and your mood was decent. Until you saw him.
Si-eun.
He was across the street, standing under a flickering lamppost, looking like he walked straight out of a drama—hands in his pockets, dark hair tousled, expression unreadable as always. Probably just finished one of those extra courses, he always ditched us for.
He was heading the same way you were, so I figured—why not? You caught up and decided to walk home with him.
You both were chatting about some silly things Su-ho did, and then the punk you beat up a few weeks ago showed up, ready for round two and this time, he brought 4 more with him. Pussy.
The two of you started fighting shoulder-to-shoulder, you took on 3, he handled 2. By the end of it, they were all groaning on the ground, too beat up to stand.
Shit.
This was the first time you’d ever seen him fight.
And damn—he was brutal. He fought like he was built for survival. One of them got taken out with a pen, another blinded with sand he randomly kicked up from the ground, and he literally smashed the last guy with a trash can lid like it was a weapon in a video game.
You just stared at him, wide-eyed, panting.
Yeah. You’re never messing with him. Ever.
You glanced at Si-eun, both of you bruised and bleeding like you just walked off a movie set. His lip was split and blood trailing down his arm from a shallow cut.
Nope. Ain’t no way you’re sending him home like that.
“Come to my place,” you said, already turning toward your building. “I live alone. I’ve got a first aid kit and like… frozen peas or whatever.”
He didn’t argue. Just followed without a word.
---
You’ve already patched up most of his visible wounds—cleaned the scrape on his arm, bandaged his knuckles. He hasn’t flinched once, but you can tell he’s watching you. Quietly. Closely.
Then your eyes landed on the cut just under his bottom lip. Small. Bloody. Kind of stupidly attractive in a messed-up way. You grabbed the ointment.
Si-eun raised a brow. "What now?"
You squeezed a bit onto your thumb, then lean in, hand cupping his jaw lightly as you tilt his face up.
"Hold still," you murmured.
He did.
Your thumb brushed gently over the cut. His skin was warm under your fingers. His lips parted slightly—not in a dramatic way, just instinctively—and you felt it. That moment. That little shift in the air.
Your thumb lingered a second too long. You both noticed. He looked at you. His eyes, usually cold and unreadable, were suddenly softer. Deeper. Your heart went boom-boom-boom like it was trying to escape.
You cleared your throat and snatched your hand back. "There. Now you won’t die of lip infection or whatever," you muttered, looking anywhere but at him.
But Si-eun just stayed there, staring at you. That unreadable look back in his eyes.
The silence sat between you, heavy and weirdly loud. “You wanna drink?” you blurted. “Water. Not like… alcohol. Not that I have alcohol. Unless—okay, shutting up.”
He actually laughed—a soft, surprised sound—and it made your heart do the absolute dumbest little cartwheel. “Water’s fine.”
You handed Si-eun a glass of water. "Thanks" You nodded. Cool. Normal. Chill. Except you were definitely staring at his lips again. STOP THAT.
You both sat on the couch. One cushion apart. Very normal. Totally casual. Your knees almost touched. You pretended not to notice. He probably didn't notice. Right?
He reached out and touched the cut on your cheek—the one you’d totally forgotten about.
“You didn’t clean yours."
You stilled. “It’s fine. Just a scratch.”
But he didn’t pull away. His fingers hovered by your skin, barely touching. His eyes met yours.
“It’s not fine.”
“Okay,” you whispered. “You can clean it."
He nodded once, then stood. “Where’s your first aid kit?”
You pointed toward the bathroom.
And when he disappeared down the hallway, you flopped back on the couch, covered your face with your hands, and let out the most dramatic groan known to mankind.
---
“You’re really gonna patch me up?” you asked, trying not to think about the fact that his knees were between your legs. Chill. Normal. Totally platonic.
Si-eun didn’t even blink. “You did it for me.”
He pulled out some antiseptic and leaned in close, tilting your face just a little with his fingers. “This might sting.”
You flinched a little when the cotton dabbed your cheek. His hand on your jaw steadied you.
“Stay still.”
“Stop being so gentle then,” you mumbled.
His brows lifted. “Would you prefer if I punched you?”
You gave him a look. “Honestly? I wouldn't mind.”
He didn’t answer right away. Just kept cleaning your cut, then placed a little bandage on it like it was a precious artifact or something. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears.
And then it got quiet again. Too quiet. Too close.
He was looking at you. Again.
And something in you just… froze.
Your heart was racing. Your stomach was doing parkour. His eyes flicked down—just briefly—to your lips. And you knew. Ohhh you knew that he thought about it. Just for a second.
Fuck it, right?
You leaned in, just enough to close that stupidly small gap between you.
Si-eun didn’t pull away.
Your lips brushed his, he froze for half a second, but then kissed you back- like he’d thought about this too. Maybe more than once. Maybe for a while. His hand found the side of your face, warm and grounding, thumb brushing your cheek like he was memorizing it.
You forgot how to breathe.
This wasn’t some messy, desperate movie kiss. This was something deeper. Something earned. It felt like the kind of kiss that came with a secret. Like he’d been waiting to find out if you'd ever be brave enough to do it first.
And you were.
You pulled back, just barely—foreheads close, noses brushing. Si-eun’s eyes opened slowly, his lips barely parted, still tilted toward you like he hadn’t finished yet.
He finally leaned back, just slightly, and ran a hand through his hair like he was trying to ground himself. “So what now?”
You gave a half-smirk. “Well, traditionally, I think you either kiss me again or we pretend it didn’t happen and suffer in silence until one of us combusts.”
He tilted his head, considering. “Option one sounds less exhausting.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Is that you asking for a sequel?”
Instead of answering, he just leaned in again. This kiss was slower. More confident. Like you’d already crossed the line and now it was just a matter of deciding how far you were willing to go.
You didn’t know what this meant yet.
But you knew what it felt like.
And that was enough—for now.
Critique is always accepted and appreciated, it helps me improve. English is not my first language, so pardon me. Thanks for reading (sobs dramatically)
Word count 888 | not proof read | nsfw - handjob, fluff
Yeon Si-eun - the boy you caught yourself staring at more often than you’d care to admit since the first day of school, suddenly snapped and knocked out the bully in your class.
You hadn't noticed it, something was definitely wrong with the way he acted earlier, and it happened so fast. Your best friend, Su-ho came to stop him before he stepped on the bully's face.
Si-eun started to swing the metal chair, and you grabbed it, halting it's swing before it could hit anyone else. Your heart skipped a beat as you locked eyes with Si-eun, and shit, his gaze-blazing with fury-is so intense yet somehow... it looked so pretty. You definitely wouldn't mind getting hit by him.
Right then, when you were about to say something, the teacher interrupted and the fight was over, leaving you standing there, lost in your own thoughts-trying to make sense of what just happened, and why you couldn’t stop thinking about Si-eun.
Su-ho succeeded in befriending Si-eun, who automatically also became your friend. The three of you started hanging out more, and you even began teaching Si-eun how to take down opponents stronger than him. But there was one thing that always left you weak in the knees-the way he looked at you.
One faithful night, when Su-ho had to take an order, you were left alone with him. It was late, so without thinking, you offered-no, insisted- that Si-eun let you give him a ride home.
You placed your helmet on his head, your hands brushing his hair for just a second, and then hopped onto your motorbike, You were ready to drive him home, just another routine favor-until he climbed behind you.
And then, shit- he was so close. His body pressed against yours, his chest practically sticking to your back as he settled in behind you. You could feel every inch of him, the warmth of his presence sending your heart into overdrive. This wasn’t how you imagined it at all.
You couldn't focus at all, your mind racing as you drove him home. The hum of the engine was drowned out by the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You kept praying he couldn’t hear it, praying he couldn’t feel the way your body tensed with every inch of space between you two that didn’t exist anymore.
Arriving infront of his apartment, you let out a sigh of relief when he climbed down your bike. But then he turned around, helmet still in hand, and casually said, ‘Come in for a sec. My dad brought back some snacks from his trip. I saved some for you and Su-ho.’
How could you possibly say no to him? Before you even realized it, your feet were already moving, carrying you inside like they had a mind of their own.
The door shut behind you with a soft click, and just like that, you were sitting on his soft couch. You were lost in your own thoughts, your eyes wandering across his home, you didn't notice him sitting down beside you.
You finally noticed him, sitting so close, his presence pulling you back to reality. Your eyes met- again-and that familiar, dangerous flutter hit your chest like a punch. Sensing that you might do something stupid if you stayed any longer, you started to stand up, but before you could, Si-eun grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him.
His soft lips pressing against yours, and hell, you couldn't pull away from him. Everything you've been holding back, it all shattered the moment he kissed you. You kissed him back like it was the only thing that made sense in the world.
You placed your hand on his waist while guiding him down softly onto the arm of the couch, still kissing him. You didn't want to break it.
Eventually, Si-eun broke the kiss because he had to catch his breath, he looked so messy, his hair disheveled and his hoodie ridden up, thanks to your wandering hands. His chest rose and feel, trying to recover from the kiss.. you just stared, because damn, you did that to him.
You started to kiss Si-eun's neck. You want to do all the way in, but you held yourself back, not wanting to scare him. You felt his cock hard- the same goes for you. Tugging down his zipper while your other hand reached for your own.
You wrapped your hands around his cock, as you guided his hands to do the same for yours. Grunting and rubbing against each other, you stared into his pretty eyes- the ones that got you weak and even hornier now.
You both reached the climax soon after. With your foreheads pressed together, you stayed there-panting, quiet, hearts still racing in sync.
Yes you slept over at his house after that, curled up in each other’s arms, your bodies tangled beneath the sheets, and sleeping facing one another.
When morning came, you stirred awake with a hazy mind, half-convinced it was all a dream. But then you saw him. Si-eun, still asleep, hair a little messy, lips parted just slightly, face soft and unguarded in the quiet light of morning.
You closed your eyes with a smile as you pulled him closer, and let yourself drift back to sleep with him in your arms.
I finished watching weak hero class 2 yesterday, and wanted to read a 'x male reader' fic but there's not much of it, so I decided to make it myself at 3am. Enjoy stars!
Pairing: Professor Henry Cavill x Student Male Reader
Genre: Fluffy Smut, MDNI
Kinks/Warnings/Notes: AMAB Reader; Calling the reader a slut, a whore; Calling the reader a good boy, praise; Slapping and spanking; Age gap; Professor x Student
Length: 5.1k words
Synopsis: You're one of the lucky few to have ever experienced one of Professor Cavill's lectures. And you are the lucky, singular person to have ever experienced his heart-racing one-on-one session.
A/N: oml hiiii! If you're reading this, then thank you very much! this is my first time writing something over a thousand words (of my own volition) in probably 3 years at least! It's also my first time writing serious smut GAHAHAHAH I would appreciate feedback (totally optional), but most of all, hope you enjoy :D
Credits: @/aquazero for the divider and @/starboye for helping me with formatting and tagging!! ^-^
I picked this one just for you! I hope it’s sweet and juicy…
You’ve always liked your Ancient Mythologies Studies class. It was an easy A, one that came packaged with an interesting topic to boot. Who doesn’t want to hear of the religions and myths of civilizations from thousands and thousands of years ago?
The answer is most people. It was one of the smallest classes–even with a size cap of twenty, it had barely filled out ten slots. It seemed most people simply didn’t take interest in the subject. That meant that most people were poor, unfortunate people, because they didn’t have the pleasure of knowing Professor Cavill.
Professor Cavill had worked at the university teaching their Ancient Mythologies Studies class for the past several years. He was a graduate of this school and, after having established himself as a prominent archaeologist, he opted to take time and teach a course for two sessions weekly. In his words he, “Wanted to help inspire any young people with a passion for learning about those that came before us.”
You had found those words so, so interesting. But it was more so about the man saying them.
Professor Cavill–Henry–was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his mid-forties. He was kind and considerate to each member of his class, treating them with a warmth and manner you’d read about in an overly unrealistic romance novel. And yet, he was very much real. You had class with him every Monday morning and Friday night.
Classes which you would sit in, bouncing your leg and hiding a raging boner as you watched the man fiddle with and adjust his tie.
“Y/N, are you sure you’d rather not attend the festivities?”
Ah, just your luck, wasn’t it? Your college had been holding a concert for a handful of its alumni to celebrate their band’s first national tour. The university had decided that, due to the band falling under the alternative genre, they would allow classes to continue should any students or staff be disinterested.
It just so happened that, as much as you weren’t opposed to them, you also weren’t heavily inclined to actually attend their show. You had figured that at least one of your ten classmates would feel the same.
Apparently not.
Hence, you now sat alone in a small lecture room, the chairs beside you empty as you stared at your beloved professor, Professor Cavill.
“Ah, no, professor. Were you looking to attend?”
“Myself? My personal taste doesn’t align with their music. As much as I love Clive-”
Clive was the lead singer and, as you recall, one of Professor Cavill’s former students.
“-we’ll be meeting for a congratulations dinner tomorrow evening. We’ve already discussed.”
He smiled, dimples forming, as he flipped open his files for the night’s lecture.
Then he had to reach for his stupid tie.
“Would you mind if I loosened my tie? I’ve been feeling warm as of earlier this evening.”
His large, somewhat hairy hand was already holding the knot one either side. He did it often; you had come to suspect it was an unconscious habit at times. He would tug at his tie, calling attention to his strong chest or those bulging biceps…
Damn his stupid tie. Today, it was his blue tie, one you knew to be one of his favourites. He wore it at least thrice a month, most often during Friday sessions.
Every time he would touch it, toy with it, it sent shivers down your spine and blood straight to your cock. You almost weren’t sure if you hated or loved that he was almost never without one.
“Ah, not at all, Sir. Go ahead.”
“Thank you, Y/N.”
God, your name sounded so good out of his mouth. He drew the syllables out, gave it this weight that you hadn’t heard your name spoken with before. You could get addicted to the way he had said it just now. You were tempted to find an excuse to have him say it again.
That opportunity came as, for the first time, he pushed past absentminded tugs at his tie and now pulled the knot away from his chest. For the first time, you saw his neck without the tie drawing attention. It almost sounded manic to say but… the sight began to draw you in.
And then he overshot it. The tie came off, knot still done, but it was completely removed now. He stared down at the cloth before using his free hand to undo it, leaving it nice and straight in his hand.
“Do you mind if I forgo it?”
Eye contact. He made eye contact with those god damn near hypnotising eyes. They really were unique; the man had something called segmental heterochromia. He had mentioned it once before. It meant that his left iris, though mostly blue like his right, had a patch of brown in its upper half.
It felt mystifying, like a siren whose song you couldn’t ignore. He continued to look at you, and without him breaking eye contact, you were hopelessly unable to do so yourself. Instead, you simply muttered a weak response.
Class seemed to fly by. Your hand wrote on its own as your legs bounced, mind and senses completely and utterly hinged on the man’s every word and movement. Though he entranced you each time you sat in on his lectures, tonight was different. You had always blamed his tie. It’s the tie. The playing with the tie, his stature with it, that’s what you blamed for your constant erections.
But it was difficult to deny it when, as the man orated with his tie discarded, you found your cock throbbing more eagerly than you can remember it having ever done before.
Sweat rolled down your forehead from the heat you were feeling. You cursed yourself, begging that the man would somehow not notice the warmth that afflicted you. But, as you let yourself look at him again, really look at him, you were both relieved and mortified to find that he was under the same circumstances.
“Is the air conditioning broken?”
His words were breathless as he fanned himself with his papers. He was tugging at his collar now, further exposing his neck, now slick with sweat. It seemed to be bothering him more than it was you, somehow.
“I-I think so.”
You could barely manage to let the words out. Your breathing had gotten unsteady, mind and body unable to focus as the man groaned from the discomfort. Seemingly without realising, his hand undid the two topmost buttons of his shirt. It exposed his chest–a strong chest covered in wild, dark black hair that you had been completely oblivious to the glorious existence of.
“Y/N? Are you alright? Is something-”
Of course now he notices your stares. It couldn’t have been when it was something that was easily explained away, like you were staring at him due to intent listening. No, it had to be when your gaze, which he followed, led down to his exposed chest. His exposed chest which had, mortifyingly, caused a wet spot to form in your pants.
“Ah, my apologies. Let me redo my button-”
“No! I mean-”
Your words came out too eager. Your brain was screaming at your mouth not to speak, to not make an utter fool of yourself. But your mouth chose to go rogue, instead opting to speak like a horned-up teen begging his boyfriend to keep making out with him.
“Y-you don’t have to. I don’t mind.”
An eyebrow was cocked in your direction.
“Is that so, Y/N?”
Your silence was used to scream, rather than actually think of anything remotely close to damage control.
“Y-yes Sir. I don’t mind if you keep your buttons undone.”
“If that’s the case, then…”
Was this… reality? Surely it could be. It was impossible.
You were sitting there, cock leaking with precum like you were a virgin watching your first porno, as your handsome professor began to undo buttons, one after another. He was exposing himself further and further with each passing second, each button exposing a new section of chiselled, hairy, sweat-covered skin.
His breaths were deep and heavy, sighs and groans of relief sending more and more sensations to your cock. Every vibration of his vocal chords seemed to be felt in full force by your erection, not helping your situation in any way whatsoever.
Then the man had the gall to take his shirt off, folding it neatly and placing it aside.
His body truly was magnificent. Plush, thick muscles were a constant, whether you looked at his chest, his abs, his shoulders, or any of his muscles. They radiated strength, covered in that same black hair as on his chest and equally slick with sweat. His body glistened under the dim light of the lights hanging above, almost like a gladiator fresh from battle.
How the hell were you supposed to react? What the hell were you supposed to do?
“Y/N, it’s hot, isn’t it? Would you mind if I further… undressed?”
It was almost pathetic how easily the man got you to fish your cock out of your strained pants. Little more than an offhanded request, actually.
Now you sat, pants and underwear around your ankles, your own shirt unbuttoned, as you feverishly pumped your erect dick. Your hand glided up and down due to the slickness of your overflowing precum, breathing unstable and desperate. But you were helpless, the possibility of you stopping a distant memory.
Professor Cavill was now nearly nude. He had discarded his elegant brown leather shoes and well-tailored pants, also in a neat pile on his desk. It left him, his statuesque form, completely exposed to you and your horny, unabashedly feral mind. It was a wonder you hadn’t cum yet.
“Keep pumping for me, Y/N. Be a good boy and keep going.”
Fuck, you couldn’t stop. Not when he said your name in a gruff, demanding voice. Not when he called you the sweetest pet names. Not when he stared at you, panting and eager, with a hunger that a predator has for its prey.
Most especially when his cock strained against dark, black fabric, as he rubbed along his clothed shaft as he took in the sight of your desperate form.
“Prof-”
“Henry. Call me Henry, Y/N.”
Shit, you could feel your cum about to well up and burst.
“Henry!”
He gave you a curt nod of approval. Your stomach pulsed with excitement.
“P-please, fuck me-!”
You looked at him, eyes wide and begging, and desperately awaited a reply. With mercy, he gave you one.
“Alright, Y/N. I’ll fuck you.”
You let out a pathetic, strangled mewl as your cum sprayed up and onto your sweaty torso.
Henry–gah, you got to call him Henry–had a cock that you couldn’t fully process was actually human. It was too perfect. It was thick, nearly as thick as your wrist though thankfully just short. It was lengthy, having had to be nine or ten inches at full mast. His balls were heavy, full of cum that he was eager to let out, and the base of his shaft was buried in a wild, thick, furry bush.
It was so close to you. It throbbed in front of you as you sat in your chair, the proximity allowing you to see the thick, pulsing vein that ran from base to near the tip. It let you watch as that fat, mushroom tip leaked a viscous, sticky precum. It lets you inhale that delicious, heady musk, intoxicating your mind and sending it reeling.
It was almost too much to process. Almost.
You were far, far too eager to begin sucking on the fat shaft. Who could blame you? People would pay good money to get a taste of a cock this perfect.
Fuck, the taste! A salty, somehow indescribably masculine taste, that flooded and overwhelmed your mind. It felt like you were at risk of addiction. Nothing had ever or would ever taste this damn divine. The copious amounts of thick, even saltier, precum being pumped into your throat was an excellent, equally addictive addition.
Even though it hurt and strained your jaw to stretch that wide and accommodate its length, the activity felt simply euphoric. If Henry would let you, you’d opt to do nothing more and nothing less than worship his cock, day and night.
“That’s a good, good boy, Y/N. Lube up my cock.”
You always were one to follow Henry’s instructions. Always one to listen, to be a good, obedient puppy. Maybe that’s why you were his favourite.
And, as he uttered praise and guided your head with a large hand’s firm grip, you certainly weren’t going to start disobeying now. With a hum of acknowledgement, you dutifully continued your task.
Once satisfied, Henry grunted and lightly tapped the back of your head.
“That’s good, baby. That’s enough. Come, get off my cock now.”
Part of you wanted to resist. How were you supposed to tear yourself away from his dick? It sounded impossible. But, you were eager for his praise, to hear him call you a good boy again. So, with one last deep dive down, your nose pressed into his hairy bush and your lips to the base of his shaft, you reluctantly pulled your face away and off of his delicious dick.
“Good fucking boy. You’re a very, very good boy, Y/N.”
Your cock throbbed with lust-filled need as you nodded with pure excitement.
“You deserve a reward. Lay on my desk, Y/N, and let me take care of your now.”
This was somehow the easiest instruction of the night to follow. You found yourself, now nude with your clothes having been folded just like Henry’s, laying on your back on his wooden desk. The surface felt cold and hard, but the feeling of a sturdy base comforted you. You knew that you’d need it.
As you took deep, steady breaths. The first of the night, actually. Your mind was trained on one thing, one concern rather.
How would you take his monstrous cock?
The answer would come soon. Without warning, your legs were lifted by two strong hands. You looked down, seeing as Henry in all his glory set your ankles on his broad shoulders. He began pressing light kisses to your skin, beard tickling your skin, as he maintained unwavering eye contact. It caused you to let out a soft laugh, which he opted to respond to.
“Your voice is beautiful, Y/N. Save it for me, okay?”
You felt it then. His fat, throbbing, steaming hot cock was set beside yours, pressed between your dick and your thigh. He was slowly and subtly moving his hips back and forth, groaning at the sensational friction.
“You’ll let me hear you sing tonight, yeah? Let me hear your wonderful voice, Y/N.”
His words were sweet like honey. It was almost enough to distract you from the prodding of his thick fingers against your tight hole. But, as you felt them push past your tight ring of muscle, your voice came out like the gates had been torn down, a moan resounding through the room.
“There you go. Good boy… moan for me. Let me hear each and every one, okay?”
You stared at him, eyes half-lidded, and nodded with an eager need to please.
How could someone so sweet cause so much pain? Henry was hunched over, his large, comforting hands on either side of your head as he hovered his face no more than four inches from yours. His heavy breaths fanned against your cheeks as he kept a steady, solid eye contact between you two. It was wondrous how much fire brewed within you from such a mundane act.
“Are you ready? I’m going to insert the tip, alright?”
He looked at you with such care and concern that it almost shocked you. He was a big, hulking man with a terrifyingly huge cock, but as it has come to be shown, a larger heart. It was so damn cheesy, wasn’t it?
But that didn’t matter as you nodded once again, body unable to take the anticipation, the waiting, for him to shove his fat cock inside.
…Except maybe it had to. His cockhead slipped inside with ease, but that wasn’t to say it wasn’t fucking painful. You let out a strangled half-moan half-scream, and within seconds, those large hands were patting the side of your head.
“Y/N? Is it too much? I’ll stop, okay? Should I pull out?”
Henry was kissing your forehead, your cheeks, the sides of your lips. He muttered small praises and comforts, every other kiss targeting a tear that had fallen from the pain. He kept true to his word; his hips remained still, his cock not pushing a millimetre further inside. It was from that moment of calm that, as you adjusted to the burning stretch, you were able to speak.
“D-don’t. Just- give me a second to-“
You huffed out, desperate for air.
“-adjust!”
He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips. He tasted, somehow, better than his cock. It wasn’t quite something you could place, to be frank. It was a savoury taste, one with hints of candies you couldn’t identify and a tea whose flavour you couldn’t imagine. But it was entirely and wholly the delicious thing you’ve ever or will ever have.
That was worth getting addicted to. And if Henry would let you, you’d chase that taste every single moment you can. Something told you that yeah, he would.
“You’re doing so, so good for me, Y/N. So good, you feel so good…”
Henry’s voice was low and comforting, just as much, if not more than his calming touches. He spoke in whispers between each kiss, and it led you to slowly, but surely, adjust to the pain. Before you had even realised, all you felt was the desire for him to push even further.
“H-Henry, you can move now… please…”
“Are you sure, Y/N?”
Hearing your name roll off his tongue, so casual by this point, only cemented your enthusiasm. You nodded slowly and weakly, smiling the best you could.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful… Hold on to me, and tell me if I need to stop, okay?”
Your cock nearly bounced at the praise. You eked out another nod as your hands came up to rest on his shoulders, leading him to return your smile with one of his own. And fuck, it was gorgeous.
He kept his movement slow. It was torturous, but you could appreciate the time and the caution he took. His face watched yours, now scanning for any sign of pain or discomfort. At every wince or scrunch, he would stop, waiting for a nod or smile as your sign of readiness.
“You feel excellent, Y/N. Being with you… I could get obsessed with this feeling, you know?”
He leaned down to kiss you yet again. He kissed you, giving you yet another helping of that impossibly lovely taste: his taste.
And then… then he brushed against your prostate, his cock like a mallet smashing into a button. Even slow, it sent a shock up your spine and a resulting heat through your nerves. Your loud, vulgar moans were taken with great joy and adoration from Henry, his smile only growing fonder.
“You sound so good, Y/N. Let it out for me…”
Perhaps you took it a tad too far as your cock, with the pressure to your prostate, burst with another spray of hot, sticky cum that painted both tour and Henry’s stomachs. Such a reaction was met with a warm laughter.
“Not what I meant, but I’m not complaining. It’s good to know you feel good, baby.”
He leaned in for yet another kiss and, in the hypnotising exchange, you just barely processed a large, encapsulating hand taking hold of your cock. Henry began to spread your cum across your own shaft, using it to pump your still-sensitive cock towards unbearable pleasure.
“I’m gonna keep making you feel good, okay?”
Sweat had beaded all over your skin now, streams running down your body as Henry’s own dripped down and onto your frame. He was pushing just a bit faster now—you almost couldn’t take the wait any longer. That once painful stretch had evolved into pleasure. It had evolved from a burning heat contained to your ass and spread into this resounding, unending warmth washing through you. In the process, it had devolved you into a writhing, moaning mess.
His cock was large, that was certainly clear. It was the kind of large that made your stomach bulge, the kind that you knew you wouldn’t ever be able to take with ease no matter how many times it had fucked you. And shit, you hoped that it would fuck you so, so many more times.
But your composure only broke down further when his cock seemed to reach so impossibly deep inside, spreading your insides apart like it was trying to break you. Moan after moan fell out as your back arched involuntarily, only accentuating the bulge in your stomach.
“Baby? Y/N?”
You hadn’t even realised it, but Henry had stopped pushing himself deeper. Now, as he buried into what felt like the core of you and sent waves of electrifying heat with even the slightest twitch of his dick, his hips were flush against yours. He had bottomed out.
“Henry…”
Words other than the man’s name didn’t seem to be able to form. He, however, had so much to say.
“Fuck, you’re amazing, Y/N. You’re taking me so damn well…”
The hand not on your cock let go of your face and glided down your body, tracing lines down your shaking body, and stopped just over the bulging portion of your stomach. He brushed it gently, causing yet another crackle of electricity to wrack through you.
“Can… can I start to move?”
Oh, you could’ve broken your neck with how fast you agreed.
Henry’s calm demeanour had taken a backseat. It was still there, in careful touches to your face and sweet caresses of your body. You could still hear it in every little praise he threw out, and every loving glance he gave your half-lidded eyes.
His hips, though, had practically lost any form of restraint.
He withdrew and pushed back in with speed and force, hips slamming with a harsh and sharp slap. Your ass felt sore by this point, but it was a warm, comfortable soreness when paired with the sheer, blinding pleasure of Henry’s cock.
By the gods, the pleasure was insane. It was driving you mad, your vision going white. His cock, no matter how many times it was thrust into you, remained impossibly large and impossibly deep-reaching. It felt as though it only went deeper and deeper with each push, a result of your fractured state.
But how could one stay sane when their body was being overwhelmed with such unimaginable pleasure.
As drool began to spill and your eyes rolled back, Henry was quick to grab you by the chin and lock you into yet another kiss. Unlike the times before, though it carried the same sweetness, it was now heavy with a hunger, a need. He hungered for you, and he needed to fucking ruin you.
And Henry’s a man who accomplishes his goals, isn’t he? He began thrusting into your harder, harsher than he had before. He thrust over and over and over again, his movements without a single missed beat or second of hesitation.
His kisses remained constant too. His thick, strong tongue had shoved its way past your pretty lips and began to gnash against your tongue. It was a strange but nonetheless mind numbingly good feeling to have him invade your body even further.
By now, his grip had transferred to and firmed on your hips. He kept you nice and planted in place on that damn sturdy desk of his, even as each thrust threatened its integrity. His pace was relentless, the wood starting to creak with his forcefulness.
He drew back, saliva still stringing your mouth and his.
“Y-you feel good, Y/N?”
Who knew this man could stutter? But fuck, he made it sound hot. He sounded so lost in the pleasure, and even then, so firm in his every word.
“Y-yes!”
He gave a crooked smile at your words.
“Good! Do you like the way I taste, Y/N? The way my spit tastes?”
How vulgar was that? And how vulgar was it that, the second you tried to respond with a very clear yes, he decided to drop a fat glob of hot spit onto your cheek? He brought his thumb up to rub it into your skin and, hell, you were about to thank him for it.
You couldn’t as he cut you off with yet another breathtaking kiss. You were left panting and unable to speak at all when he pulled away.
“You’re a whore, you know? A beautiful, obedient, whore.”
His words carried no malice, only a heavy lust that he was just barely stopping from pushing him towards ruining your body completely.
“But you’re my whore, alright? Don’t you ever fucking forget.”
He slapped your cheek. It wasn’t one of anger, moreso just trying to snap you into focus. He wanted an answer and, as his best and favourite student, he knew he would get a reply out of you.
“I-I’m your whore, sir!”
It was a miracle you could speak, really. It was especially miraculous because the second he heard that, with one resounding slam of his hips into yours, you felt it.
“Fuck, Y/N!”
In the moment, as you arched your back and let your mouth flow with moans at the highest possible volume, Henry’s cock pumped gush after gush of burning hot, viscous, cum.
It felt like molten steel, an impossible extreme of everything that semen was meant to be. And as such, it brought the pleasure you felt from having your stomach pumped full of it to a high that you could never reach with any drug imaginable.
And through it, his hips hadn’t chosen to stop. Every thrust was now being punctuated with a new load of cum filling your already full belly, each one followed then with another slap to your ass or lust-driven proclamation of love.
“God, I love your tight fucking ass-”
You were screaming as you came at the height of the moment’s intensity.
You weren’t sure when the night ended, exactly. It seemed that the man had fucked you for hours on end, until he had emptied his fat balls’ storage of cum and filled your belly with it. He had fucked you till your cock hurt, and each climax produced a dry orgasm due to empty tanks.
He had fucked you till you were left unable to think of anything but his cock and the taste of his sweet, delicious lips.
And now, he was buried deep inside you still, pressing kiss after kiss to your neck as you desperately gasped for air.
“Did I go too hard? Are you hurt, Y/N?”
Your body was, in fact, aching. It was this numb, almost muffled pain that was eclipsed—or perhaps even part of—this euphoric pleasure that continued to grasp you. Things no longer felt real, at this point, but a dream you’d rather not wake from.
But things were very much reality, and that included a high-off-sex and full-of-affection Henry.
“I apologise for the slaps, they were rather forceful…”
You managed out a shake of the head to signal a no. The laugh that he gave, boisterous yet quiet, made your heart pound again.
“I see. I suppose we’ll need ample time to explore what we both enjoy, hm?”
The idea of more time with Henry, more time doing this, was certainly exciting. He didn’t need more than your dumb little smile, one you couldn’t wipe off your face even if you wanted or tried to, to tell you thought.
“I can see you like the prospect, hm?”
Another chuckle and another kiss. What bliss this was.
“I’m going to pull out now, so that we can both get cleaned up, okay? Just breathe for me, Y/N, just like earlier.”
You tried to follow, you really did. But as your hole was quickly left empty, gaping and clenching around nothing, you couldn’t help but whine unintelligible mutterings. Henry responded with even more pecks to your lips and caresses to your soft, delicate skin.
Henry was certainly a gentleman. He had taken some tissues from the box he reserved for students with colds and used then to to clean the outer portion of your sloppy hole. His hands, as large as they were, moved soft and delicate, careful not to press against any overly sensitive parts.
He had taken to cleaning himself—drying his cock, much to your dismay, with more paper towels. He had noticed your sadness and, with an admittedly smug smirk, said he’d allow you to suck his cock clean next time. It was still strange, even after the night you had had with him, to hear such lewd language uttered from the refined man’s mouth.
By the time he had dressed himself, your breathing had steadied. Your backside was still sore and leaking, but he had promised to help with that back at his apartment.
Wait.
His apartment?
“Ah, would you rather not? I can clean you up in the facilities here and-”
“No, no! I’d-”
You coughed. All the sweat, mixed with what was now cool night air, had left your body just a tad sick. Well, that and the exhaustion from having taken on such an impossible task and cock.
“-love to. I’d love to go home with you, Henry.”
He smiled like he hadn’t heard anything quite as lovely before. You smiled back in return.
He was the eager to tug on your boxers and wrap you in his suit jacket as a means of decency. He lifted you up bridal-style and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The man was strong and, with the ease that was carrying you, he even held your folded clothing in the hand supporting your butt.
You even found the strength to be humorous in the moment, letting out a joking, “Ooh, strong guy, huh?”
He graced you yet again with one of those pure, unadulterated laughs.
“I’m glad to have had this one on one session with you, Y/N. Certainly was productive, wasn’t it?”
THANK YOU to my lovely beta readers! There's a shit ton GAHAH
imagine the hero going to a random pub without his mask, just trying to relax, finding the villain dancing and flirting around with other visitors..
the hero was shocked but remained silent, hmm.. for some reason, he couldn't look away from the villain! his eyes locked to the villain's body, the way it sways to the way he laughs..
the hero finally snapped out of it when the villain locked eyes with him and approached him..?? he unconsciously looked away until the shorter male wrapped his arms around the hero's neck!
"enjoying the show, handsome?" seems like the villain didn't know the hero's true identity! and uh oh, the villain chose the hero to be his tonight.. and who is the hero to reject a sexy and hot babe??!
mmm how many rounds have they gone through?? wet and dirty sheets, two sweaty males, and loads of skin clapping.. the overstimulated villain and the really horny hero..
seems like the hero came up with a plan.. for the sake of world peace.. so he fucked the villain so hard and rough that he can now only think about the hero's big cock! oh no, the villain is now hooked up with it :((
all this is definitely for the sake of world peace! hmm.. why is the hero smirking like that? seems like he has something else in mind..
p.s hero def chocked villain and villain loves it.. also leaving love bites all over the poor villain's body.. i hope it's readable and i fucking love male hero x male villain.
Word count 800 | not proof read | nsfw - handjob, teasing <enjoy.>
Dom top male reader x Sub horny virgin character
There's a troublemaker in the school. He likes to smoke, play pranks on everyone, sleep in classes, cheat on tests, you name it.
You, as the student council president, were asked by the teachers to scold and punish him. So one day, you called him to the student council president's room after school.
He didn't want to come, but you said that you will give back his erotic comics if he obeys. He reluctantly opened the door, seeing you writing something on the desk and you told him to sit on the couch without even seeing him.
He rolled his eyes but he did as what he was told. He took his cigarette and wanted to light it, but you walked towards him and grabbed his hand.
"Don't you dare smoke here." You glared at him. "Get to the point, then." He rolled his eyes once again and put down his cigarette. You sighed and sat on the sofa in front of him.
"You know why you are called here. You need to behave." I told him sternly. Instead of listening, he wandered his eyes around the room, looking at the shelfs full of books. "So boringg" He said, and he got up ready to leave. You started to get pissed off, so you also got up and stopped the door from opening.
You trapped him, your left hand grabbing his left hand, your right hand on the door. He could feel your breath from his neck, bodies just several inches before each other. He, of course, startled by the current situation, turned his face sideways and locked eyes with you, faces close to each other.
The tension made him put his lips against yours, it's just a short contact, but he blushed uncontrollably. "I- I didn't mean that." He looked away, facing the door.
You grabbed his jaw with your right hand, forcing him to face you again, and kissed him. Your left hand on his waist and brought him even closer to your body. After a while, he whined and broke the kiss, panting like he was unable to breathe before. You wondered why he kissed you and why he didn't resist the kiss. You observed him, his cheeks flushed, bad kissing, and that's when you clicked.
He never kissed before and definitely never fucked. He's a virgin.
You locked the door and without a word, pulled him to the couch, pinning him under you. "You started it." You whispered to his right ear and sucked it. He gasped and tried to hide his moans as you started to play with his clothed nipples.
His hands gripping your shirt, body started to heat up under your touch. You unbuttoned his uniform, removing it from him completely meanwhile you moved your mouth to his jaw and his neck, sucking it lightly. He put his left hand over his mouth to suppress the moans.
You pushed that hand, and kisses him again while your left hand trailing down his chest, to his stomach, and finally stopped at his crotch.
He moaned inside your mouth by your touch. Both of his hands are now wrapped around your neck while you continue to tease his half hard clothed dick. You unzipped his pants, and removed his underwear, revealing a now hard dick.
He flinched as you touched his balls, playing with it as you suck on his pink nipples. You started to slowly move your hand up and down his dick, making him roll up his eyes from the new found pleasure.
As time passed, you noticed that he was about to cum. You released your hand from his dick, earning a disappointed sigh from him. He looked at you and asked why with a tear on his eye, but you just smirked and said, "Promise me that you will behave or I'll not let you cum."
You then put your thumb on his tip, preventing it from releasing anything. He gasped and nodded quickly, his eyes begging for a release. "Okay." You said and started to pump on his dick with your hand again, but with a faster pace.
He moaned uncontrollably so you had to silence it with a kiss. You suck on his tongue and bit his lower lip. He soon came with a messy satisfied look, spurted his cum all over his stomach.
He looks so cute with his eyes rolled up, lips chapped, noticeable trails of tears, and drool near his mouth. 'Ha,' you thought while getting up from him, adjusting your uniform.
He is still gasping for air, staring at you. You crouched near him and whispered "Don't forget your promise. I'll reward you with something nice if you can be nice for a week."
Only you and the future him know what the reward is..
my first writing and a short one! ill do part 2 if anyone wants it. thanks for reading, stars! <3
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