[ syn ] :: cracking ikeno after turning him into a zombie !
✦ [ warnings – fake non-con (reader likes his bs),, porn without plot,, unprotected,, finishing inside,, swearing]
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'i'll only stop once you find me a vaccine card, get me?' ikeno said, threateningly. you didn't want to admit it, but you honestly didn't want him to stop. after turning him into a zombie during a recent round, he cornered you while everyone else was talking strategy. not that you'd let him see but, you'd been eyeing him the whole game. his threats turned into actions, and your desire turned into playing along. him pushing you into the bathroom between every round, pretending to resist — when really, this is all you wanted.
pushed up against the cold tile wall, wrists restrained by his hands — drilling you from behind as he kept making threats that only made you want more. if he knew you liked it though, he'd stop and find someone else to get a vaccine card from. you knew he wanted to feel like he was in control, he had everyone else in the game following his system — why wouldn't you?
'okok ill, ill get you the card next round i swear' you panted, acting so helpless as always. 'you sure? cuz that's what you've said everytime. starting to think you like being fucked like this' he replied, only increasing his pace. your legs growing weaker every thrust, especially tired from your previous activities. thankfully wearing pants in this game, other players couldn't see the constant flow of ikenos seed dripping from between your thighs. his stamina definitely shocked you.
'i promise, i promise ill get it! and if i don't, you can do whatever you want to me- even after we leave the game!' you attempted to tell him what he wanted to hear, not sure what he'd respond with. 'pff, who're you to decide what happens? i might not even want you after this game.' he replied. your heart was racing, everything he said only turned you on more. 'fuck! please. you feel, s'good!' you whined out, legs shaking from the endless pleasure he supplied.
'you're such a fucking slut' he struggled to say, reaching his fourth high of the day. emptying another hot load inside you, you moaned out in ecstasy. attempting to grip onto the wall for support, feeling your legs about to give up on you. ikenos sounds were heavy breathing with some pretty broken whines, and hearing them made you grind back on him for more. hearing him sigh, 'fucken freak' feeling him pull out abruptly, leaving you to collapse on the bathroom floor.
zipping up his pants and not looking back as he walked out, you were left sweating, shaking, sore, and dripping with cum. leaking out of you like a tap, you mustered all the strength in your body you could to stand. fucked out and fragile — you were never getting that vaccine card.
cw: 18+ mdni, smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of alcohol, cum eating, he's kind of rough, hair pulling, head pusher ryuji </3 but it's kinda hot just cause he's desperate, takes place before his crash but pls read my note, word count: 1.9k.
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It had been a long day. After hours of cleaning every single crevice of each room, as well as organizing your garage, you were exhausted. You could tell when your husband Ryuji walked into your home, tie undone and eyebags prominent, that the sentiment was probably shared.
Nights weren’t usually like this — while they were calm, they were never tense. You struggled to hide your frown when you greeted Ryuji at the door, only to be met by a low mumble and avoidant eyes. You could tell something was bothering him, yet he was typically quiet when he was upset, much to your distress.
— “How was your day, babe?” You asked, hopeful as you took his coat from his taller frame, moving quickly to place it in the nearest storage closet. His answer was a simple yet stubborn “Fine.” Nothing about him appeared fine. He was stressed and it was evident. “How was work?” “Fine.” You sighed when his monotone voice repeated the word over and over again. Although the lack of communication was frustrating, you could understand why he might be hesitant. It was no secret that he had been struggling with his reputation at his school, his passion for researching the afterlife probably the main reason why.
You never doubted Ryuji’s beliefs, yet you couldn’t hold back a frown when you would overhear someone reducing it to a useless fantasy. Recently things had become worse, his supervisor directly telling him to stop wasting his time and to focus on something else. While Ryuji was strong mentally, the constant negativity was probably taxing. You needed to find a way to cheer him up.
Without saying another word, you rushed to the kitchen, pouring two glasses of red wine and balancing them as you moved into the living room, beckoning your husband to join you. “Ryuji, c’mere!” You patted next to your own spot on the couch, with the two glasses placed on the nightstand adjacent to it. He nodded wordlessly, walking into the room and sitting next to you as you asked. He wasted no time taking the glass from the nightstand, sipping on it and closing his eyes at the taste. You always teased him for being overly expressive with his alcohol, yet you couldn’t find it in you to make fun of him when this was the closest to happiness you had seen him show since he arrived home.
You grabbed your own glass, sipping next to him while watching a dumb movie on your television. Eventually, one glass became two and two became three, and before you knew it, the two of you were tipsy. Your head was leaned back, turned to stare directly at Ryuji with no shame. You took notice of how there was a slight sheen of sweat under his jaw, a small furrow in his eyebrows, a light red to his cheeks — you probably looked the same from the wine.
Suddenly, you were feeling antsy, biting your lip to hold back from voicing your admiration for his face. You truly lucked out, constantly telling him how beautiful he was yet he’d simply hum and look away. You wondered if he would now, choosing to test the waters. “You know, you look really good right now.” Ryuji finally looked your way, and you would bet a million dollars that he was about to scoff and tell you to be quiet, yet his eyes were lidded, riddled with something similar to lust as he bit his lip. “Really?” “Mhmm.” You nodded your head, clumsily enthusiastic. You weren’t sure if it was the drinks or the way his hair was styled, but you wanted to feel him closer to you.
Ryuji’s eyes left yours to look you up and down, faintly smiling as he admired you. You felt one of his hands subconsciously reaching for yours, interlacing your fingers and running his thumb on your palm. The feeling made you smile as well, yet you felt slightly empty for some reason, the yearning in you becoming not-so-innocent anymore. “I missed you today.” You whispered, leaning your face to meet his shoulder and rest on it, locking your eyes onto your hands that were holding each other. “Did you now?” You nodded, pouting lightly. “Wanna show you how much.” You responded quietly, finally shifting your head to look up at him. The look in his eye told you he was more than happy to agree, probably secretly relieved that you had offered a way to release his stress.
Ryuji’s empty hand moved to hold your hip as you got up slightly, straddling his body on the couch and pushing his shoulders back, silently urging him to stay still. He looked up at you, his eyes intense and heavy with a look that overwhelmed you in the best way. Without overthinking, you closed your eyes, leaning down for your lips to meet his. Once they touched, you immediately furthered the kiss, your hand that was on his shoulder grazing up to cup his neck and push him into you. He complied, chasing your lips with his own and humming into the kiss.
You could tell he was desperate too, with the way his hips would jolt up to meet your own, creating a rhythm as you both began to grind against each other through your clothes. The friction felt so good, heightened by your tipsy actions. Making love was always perfect with him, yet it was always so different when you two were buzzed, the messy desperate actions somehow amplifying each nerve in your bodies.
Ryuji’s long fingers let go of your hip, trailing down towards the string of your sweatpants. You pushed away from the kiss, ignoring how his mouth chased yours before turning into a pouty frown. Your hand on his neck held him still as you shook your head, “No, this is about you, Ji. We can do that some other time, let me help you.” His frown stayed, now slightly confused yet he nodded at your words, trusting you.
You smiled, placing one more peck on his lips, before leaving one on his jaw, moving down to his neck to suck on his skin. The flesh was damp with sweat, the pressure of your mouth on him making him feel like he was some horny teenager again.
Ryuji let out a moan at the feeling, his hand reaching up to grip the back of your neck, pushing you into him fervently. With a renowned passion, you began to suck harshly, leaving purple blemishes over his skin. You would lick them after to relieve the pain before biting the same marks right after. Each time your teeth would graze his skin, his breath would falter, his hips rutting into you mindlessly.
He whined when you finally removed yourself, yet you simply smiled at him before standing up. “Did work have you stressed?” He huffed at your words, wanting to skip the tense questions in favor of feeling you on top of him again, yet you slapped his hands away when they reached up to grab your waist. “Answer me, please.” He sighed, “He said I wouldn’t get the funding. I… I don’t want to talk about it right now.” You frowned when he responded, his defeated tone making you want to break down along with him.
“It’s okay baby, I’ll take your mind off of it.” You spoke your last words before descending onto your knees, grinning up at him while your hands reached for his belt. He sank down further into the couch, melting into the feeling when you finally removed the item, pulling down his pants along with it. He kicked them off quickly, watching you intensely as your hands ghosted over his clothed bulge, growing harder with each movement of your wrists. You pressed down lightly, laughing when he threw his head back and whined in response. Choosing to tease him a bit more, you leaned in, leaving a kiss on the tent. He was displeased, his hand rushing to grab onto your hair, roughly pulling you up until you made eye contact with him. “Don’t tease.” Your smile widened, feeling a heat between your thighs at his strict tone.
Nodding, you waited until Ryuji eased up his hold to finally pull down his boxers. His hard cock sprung out, slapping his stomach and making him groan while biting his lip. You felt yourself grow wetter at the sight, wanting to touch his impressive length immediately. You didn’t hold back anymore, perking up to lean over and grab his dick, stroking the base of it while your tongue darted out, licking his tip.
The small action had him restless, his blush growing as he twitched at the feeling. You knew he was mostly sensitive in the tip, choosing to focus on it at first. He strengthened the grip of his hand that held onto your hair, getting tighter and tighter as he felt your tongue running over his dickhead. After some more small licks, you finally opened your mouth, taking him in inch by inch until you couldn’t.
Your eyes were shut quickly, getting more turned on as the second passed, the feeling of his cock heavy in your mouth making you clench your thighs harder. He was no longer trying to hold in his moans, eyes shutting tight while his head tilted back. He was a loud, whining mess at your mercy as your hand ran up and down his base while you hollowed your cheeks on what you could.
Spit was trailing down onto his bare thighs as some of his precum dribbled down too, though most of it was swallowed down your throat instead. You opened your eyes, looking up to admire your whimpering husband. He looked angelic, veins showing on his forehead as he clenched his teeth, biting his lip as you worked your fingers down him.
Ryuji opened his eyes as your pace increased. When he looked down at you, he caught your eyes, locking into them while his mouth opened to release more moans into the room. You tried to smile at him, although your mouth was occupied, taking him fully down your throat. The sight made him grunt loudly, his hand in your hair tightening. While he tried to fight back the urge, he knew he was slowly losing the battle, feeling his orgasm approaching quickly.
Your head was pushed into his pelvis while his actions became rougher, finally tipping over when you gagged on his cock. His eyes left yours, shutting tightly once more before he came inside your mouth with one final moan.
Your mouth was full of his cum, some dripping out to run down your chin, yet you swallowed, looking up at Ryuji when you had none left. Behind his dazed out expression, you saw his lips curl upwards in content, and you jumped up back onto the couch. Pressing yourself next to him, he met you halfway into a messy kiss, tasting himself on your tongue.
Your heavy breaths both occupied the room, calming down while embracing each other. “I’ll come home mad again if it means you’ll do that every day.” His voice was unserious, raspy as you could tell he was tired. You laughed at his words, “Yeah right… Next time I’m handing you a broom and telling you to get to work.” You both giggled, holding each other and intertwining your hands once more before you both dozed off together, cramped on the small couch.
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a/n: i love domestic cuteness... i do want to note that i hope to respect the fact that ryuji uses a wheelchair and involve that in my writings so this will be one of my only works pre-crash! i simply wish to research more beforehand to make it as inclusive and accurate as it can be, so i will be working on that asap >_< i hope you all like!
Sunmary: the boundaries between you and chishiya snap bit by bit, pulling you into his controlled world where desire outweighs reason. your connection has grown undeniable, slipping from teasing exchanges into a dangerous intimacy that both excites and unsettles you
Warnings: hospitals and diseases, dom! chishiya, smut! Do not read if you're under 18! (More explicit warnings are under the cut)
Word count: ~12k
This is part 2 of Anatomy of Control
Explicit Warning: horny chishiya, who almost loses his cool, spanking, fingering, establishment of safe words, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, choking, a little bit of overstimulation, penetrative sex (I feel like I need to apologise for this fic, but don't worry, despite all things happening in here, chishiya is still our king of consent)
The morning after that scene in the empty office, Chishiya carried on as if nothing had ever happened. His voice was clipped, his tone even colder than usual, and when he spoke to you, he never met your eyes. He stared at the chart in his hand, or the monitor above the child’s bed, or the blank white wall. Quite literally anywhere but you.
“Read me the lab values,” he said flatly, eyes fixed on the sheet in his hand. You complied, keeping your tone even. He gave no acknowledgement when you finished, only a quiet hum before moving on to the next patient.
At first, you played along with his game. You answered only when he asked a direct question, your words short and professional. You told yourself it was fine, that if he wanted to erase what had happened between you, you would let him.
But the next day, something inside you shifted. You weren’t sure if it was spite or courage, but you couldn’t keep pretending. Not when his words in that office still echoed in your head, not when you remembered the way his breath had brushed your skin.
When he asked about a patient’s medication, you added, “Considering the abdominal pain, wouldn’t it be safer to adjust the dosage?”
His head tilted the slightest bit, his eyes flicking up to you before quickly falling back to the chart. “Mm,” was all he said, a noncommittal sound. But you saw the way his shoulders stiffened.
Later, when he muttered, “The scans are inconclusive,” you answered quietly, “Then maybe we should order a cardiac evaluation next.”
His gaze shot to you at that. For a moment, you thought he would cut you down with one of his biting remarks. Instead, he said nothing, simply crossing his arms over his chest.
The silence between you stretched. Finally, he spoke again, his voice calm but laced with irritation. “You’ve grown awfully talkative all of a sudden.”
You lifted your chin slightly. “Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to stop whispering and start answering properly?”
His eyes lingered on yours a second too long, colder than steel, but caught on something he couldn’t disguise. Yes, that was exactly what he wanted. And besides your sharp mouth, you had done what he asked of you. This alone made the heat return to his lower parts.
Slowly, he leaned back. He thought he could win this battle of wills. That you would crumble the moment he turned the full weight of his icy stare on you.
But you didn’t. And there was the smallest flicker of something dangerous in his eyes before he tore his gaze away again, retreating back into the safety of the chart in his hand.
A new case was presented during morning rounds. A ten-year-old boy, fever spikes for a week, persistent fatigue, joint pain, and a peculiar rash that had spread across his torso. Blood work showed anaemia and elevated inflammatory markers.
Dr. Kato had once made such discussions lively, encouraging every resident to speak, but with him still on leave, the atmosphere felt brittle. And with Dr. Chishiya leading, it was even worse.
One resident offered, “Could be scarlet fever.”
“No,” Chishiya cut in immediately, voice flat and merciless. “The rash doesn’t fit, nor does the joint pain. Next.”
Another resident piped up, “Maybe lupus?" Chishiya’s eyes narrowed. “Unlikely. You’re ignoring the elevated ESR and the pattern of the anaemia. Don’t throw buzzwords around, hoping one sticks.”
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. No one wanted to be the next target of his dismissal. You took a steadying breath. “Systemic juvenile idiopathic arthritis,” you said.
His head turned towards you, finally. You went on before he could cut you down. “The recurrent fevers, the evanescent rash, the arthritis symptoms... they all fit. The labs suggest systemic inflammation, not infection.” The other residents shifted, some surprised, others annoyed, but you didn’t falter. You kept your eyes on the chart, not on him.
Chishiya tilted his head, lips pressing into the faintest line. For a long moment, he said nothing, scanning you as if trying to find a crack in your reasoning. Finally, his gaze dropped back to the file.
“Hm.” It was a sound of acknowledgment, not praise. But for Chishiya, it was enough to make the air feel different. You didn’t let the moment end there. “We should start with NSAIDs. If symptoms persist, corticosteroids. Biologics may be necessary long term.”
This time, the silence was louder. Every pair of eyes in the room darted to Dr. Chishiya, waiting for the verbal blade to fall. Instead, he simply nodded. “That’s correct.”
Murmurs rippled at the edges of the group, disbelief that he had agreed so easily, shock that he hadn’t torn you apart. You kept your expression neutral, but inside something sharp and hot flared. The tiniest victory.
When the group dispersed, residents and nurses buzzing quietly about what had just happened, you left the room with your chart hugged to your chest.
And he was right behind you. His presence was palpable, heat radiating from him, close enough that you could feel the whisper of his breath against the back of your neck. You stiffened, pulse leaping, but you didn’t quicken your pace.
As the corridor emptied around you, his voice brushed against your ear, threaded with something that sounded dangerously like restraint. “Careful with that behaviour of yours.” You didn’t look back. But your lips curved, just slightly, where he couldn’t see.
The rest of the morning slipped into rhythm. Charts, vitals, rounds. You moved through patients with steady precision, lingering a little longer when a child needed comfort, slipping in a joke or a reassuring pat on the hand. Whenever you had a moment to spare, you drifted to the nurses’ station. Fetching supplies, filing charts, even helping roll in equipment.
One of the younger nurses raised a brow at you while you tucked clean linens into a cupboard. “Why do you always help us? You don’t have to, you know. Most doctors think they’re above it.”
You gave her a small smile. “My mother was a nurse. I grew up watching how hard it was on her. Long shifts, aching feet, never enough thanks. I know how draining it can be. So… if I have time, why wouldn’t I?” The nurse softened, her smile warm. “You’re going to make a good doctor.” You ducked your head, embarrassed, pretending to fuss with the sheets.
Across the corridor, unseen, Chishiya had paused mid-step. He shouldn’t have cared. It was a throwaway conversation, casual and definitely unimportant. But the mention of your mother made his ears sharpen. The tiniest information about your past. About you. He found himself listening to your voice, trying to catch every word.
'Why do I even care?' He shook his head, forcing himself to walk away.
When lunch rolled around, you found a spot in the cafeteria, tray balanced neatly in front of you. You were halfway through sipping your tea when you felt a presence close to you.
Chishiya sat down. Not right next to you, but several seats away, just near enough to be deliberate. You blinked, surprised. You hadn’t expected him to join you, let alone speak.
“Good work earlier today,” he said simply, eyes on his tray as he picked at his rice. For a moment, you just stared. The words were so unexpected, you almost thought you had imagined them. Then, cautiously, you replied, “Is that… your version of a compliment?”
His cold gaze flicked to you, but there was something else lingering there. “Don’t get used to it.” A soft and amused laugh slipped out of you. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on it.”
His chopsticks stilled mid-air. Slowly, he lowered them back to his tray. “You’re getting bolder,” he muttered. You tilted your head, lips curving into a small, mischievous smile. “Or maybe you’re just less scary than you think you are.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. He bit back the reaction, crossing his arms instead, leaning back as if to put space between you. “You’re mistaking tolerance for leniency.”
“Tolerance, leniency… same difference,” you teased, taking another sip of tea. He scoffed, but the sound lacked its usual bite. “You can be really annoying.”
“And yet you’re sitting here,” you shot back. That earned you a long, sharp look.
You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. The sound caught him off guard. His lips parted slightly, his chest tightening as though his body betrayed him. He had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to stop the smile threatening to form.
The rest of the day unfolded like a game you hadn’t realised you were playing until now. Each time you passed Chishiya in the hallway, you let a small, sarcastic comment slip, subtle enough to be excused as harmless, but sharp enough that you saw the way his shoulders stiffened.
When he stood at the nurses’ station, scribbling notes on a chart with that maddening calmness of his, you leaned in just enough to murmur, “Your handwriting looks like you’re actively trying to make people suffer.” He didn’t even glance up, his tone flat. “Maybe I am.” You hid your grin as you walked off, sensing the faintest flicker of tension radiating off him.
Later that afternoon, he presented a treatment plan to the parents of a boy recently diagnosed with nephrotic syndrome. His plan involved high-dose corticosteroids. It was efficient, fast-acting, the standard aggressive approach. But when you heard the tremor in the mother’s voice, you stepped forward, suggesting an alternative: a slower approach with immunosuppressants, less aggressive but with fewer harsh side effects for the boy’s still-developing body.
The parents latched onto your words instantly, their hope visible in the way they nodded towards you.
Chishiya’s jaw ticked. He was about to respond, his voice already carrying that familiar sharpness, when you cut in again. It was rationally, but still, you interrupted him. It was the kind of thing no resident would dare do.
His eyes narrowed, though his tone stayed deceptively even as he finally cut you off. “We don’t have the luxury of sentimentality. Time is the variable here, and efficiency outweighs gentleness. We’ll proceed with the steroids.” His words were final. His delivery icy. You said nothing more, simply bowing your head in acknowledgment.
When you stepped out of the room, you expected him to brush past you, maybe throw you a scathing remark. But instead, without looking at you, he muttered, “Walk with me.”
You fell into step behind him, your chest tight, your pulse pounding with a mix of indignation and anticipation.
He led you down a long hall and turned sharply into an empty corridor. The quiet here seemed heavier, more private. He stopped, spun halfway, his arms crossed, his expression cold. And then he snapped.
“You don’t get to undermine me in front of patients or their families,” he said, his voice low but seething. “You want to suggest alternatives, you do it in private. Not when I’ve already given them a plan.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but he stepped closer. The charged space between you shrank until you felt the heat of his body radiating against yours.
His words came clipped and controlled, but there was an undercurrent you couldn’t ignore: frustration bleeding into something darker. “You think you’re clever, pushing me like that? Testing me? You don’t realise what kind of line you’re walking.”
Your back hit the wall before you even realised you had stepped back. He wasn’t touching you, but he didn’t need to. His presence caged you in.
It wasn’t just professional fury spilling out of him. The taut coil of something unspoken and personal. His jaw flexed, his hands curling into fists at his sides, as though he was fighting himself as much as you.
Your breath came shallow, your pulse hammering. And despite the danger in his tone, despite the razor-sharp warning in his words, you couldn’t look away.
For a moment, you almost let the words die on your tongue. His authority pressed down on you like a weight, heavy enough to crush the air from your lungs. He was right. You were only a resident. And when you saw the flicker of satisfaction cross his face at your silence, that cold curve of victory in his expression, your chest twisted and something shifted.
Your spine straightened, your guilt hardening into resolve. “Yes,” you said, your voice steady despite the rush of your pulse, “I am just a resident. But the patients and their parents deserve to at least know when there are different treatment options. They deserve transparency. Even if they still choose yours.”
The already quiet corridor went even more silent. Chishiya’s gaze bored into you, his lips parting just slightly as though your audacity had stolen his words. You could almost see the calculations running behind his eyes, weighing possibilities with that same efficiency he applied to medicine.
He could fire you.
He could make every day of your residency a kind of living hell.
He could remind you exactly how small you were under his authority.
But what came out of his mouth wasn’t any of those things. “You truly are insufferable,” he said, each word dragged out through clenched teeth. His eyes burned into yours, darker than you had ever seen them. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to something dangerous. “You should be fucking spanked for that.”
Your eyes widened, your breath catching in your throat. For a split second, you thought you had misheard him. But no. The sharp edge in his tone, the way his knuckles whitened where his fists were clenched at his sides, told you he had meant every syllable.
The world tilted for a moment, everything too hot, too charged. His words wrapped around you like a spark in dry kindling, igniting something you hadn’t dared name until now.
Chishiya froze the moment the words left his mouth. His own voice echoed back at him, and you saw his composure falter. He stepped back immediately, shoulders tightening, the mask snapping back into place with mechanical precision.
He went too far. He knew it. He turned as if to leave, but you spoke before he could escape.
“Fine, then.” Your voice trembled, but not with fear. “Spank me. Punish me for stating my opinion.”
His spine went rigid, his hand hovering by his side as though he couldn’t decide whether to clench it into a fist or press it against his own mouth. A breathy sound escaped him, half laugh, half disbelief. He didn’t dare look at you when he answered, his tone flat, almost brittle. “We’re not crossing that line.”
You crossed your arms, huffing, refusing to let him retreat back into the comfort of that icy facade. “Then at least think of me when you’re taking care of that.” You nodded towards the very thing he had tried to ignore: the bulge in his trousers, straining against the fabric with every passing second of this charged silence.
Something in him snapped. Before you could blink, his hand closed around your throat, cutting off just enough air to make your pulse thunder in your ears. He leaned in until his face hovered mere inches from yours, his eyes blazing with something raw. “Is this all a fucking game to you?” he growled, his voice low and venomous, the heat of his breath ghosting over your lips.
The sound that escaped you wasn’t a word. It was almost a moan. The kind of sound that made his jaw tighten.
That was enough. Without another word, he dragged you by your throat down the hall, shoving open the door to an empty on-call room. The air inside was colder, but it did nothing to cool the fire roaring between you. The door clicked shut behind you, the silence ringing louder than any words.
As much as every muscle in him screamed to push you to your knees and shut you up by shoving his painful erection into your mouth, he forced himself down onto the edge of the narrow bed instead, hauling you across his lap in one deliberate motion.
Your breath caught somewhere between anticipation and disbelief. His hand rested heavy at your hip, fingers pressing into the fabric of your coat as if he was holding himself back with every ounce of control he still possessed.
For a long, suffocating moment, he said nothing. The only sound was the tick of the old clock on the wall and the faint rasp of his breathing.
Then he finally spoke your name.
“Do you consent to this?" His voice was steady, but you could feel the tremor of something dangerous beneath it. You nodded your head eagerly. “I need to hear it from you. A nod isn’t enough.”
You blinked up at him, lips parted, your pulse hammering against his grip at your throat.
He leaned forward, searching your face. The weight of his gaze pinned you down more than his body did.
“I-" Your throat bobbed as you swallowed hard, then steadied yourself. “Yes. I want this.”
Something flickered in his eyes, something unguarded, before he leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“If you're willing to step into this, you don’t get to play games. You do as I say. You obey.” His lips hovered dangerously near your ear, his tone commanding. “That’s what I need.”
The hand at your throat loosened, sliding just enough to let you breathe deeply, though the impression of his grip still burned against your skin.
“This is who I am,” he continued, each word deliberate, as though testing you with every confession. “I don’t date. I don’t… do romance. What I want, what I need, is control. Absolute control.”
Your stomach tightened, the flame inside you roaring higher at the raw honesty spilling from him, honesty he clearly hadn’t intended to share with a resident.
His hand flexed at your waist, still restraining himself, still holding back. “If you can’t handle that, you walk out now.” The silence hung heavy, your heart hammering so loudly you swore he could hear it.
But you didn’t move. You met his eyes steadily and whispered, “Show me, then.”
His composure cracked fully, not with a smirk or a scoff, but with a sharp inhale, his pupils darkening as though your words had cut straight through him.
And just like that, the first boundary fell.
In one swift motion, Chishiya yanked your coat off and your scrub bottoms and panties down. You gasped at the sudden exposure. After enjoying the view for a second too long, he placed his cold hand on your bare butt cheek.
"Do you understand why I'm doing this?" He asked, voice low. You bit your lip, "Yes," You finally said, "because I spoke out of turn. Because I suggested a treatment plan without discussing it with you first."
"That's right. And do you regret it?" You were quick to respond to that, your mind already clouded by annoyance again. "Of course not. The parents deserved to hea-" A sharp smacking sound echoed through the quiet room. Your body jolted at the stinging sensation on your left butt cheek. "What the-" Another smack stopped you mid-sentence.
"Am I still hearing protest?" Chishiya asked, voice calm, as if nothing was happening. "I'm sorry." You whispered softly. "'I'm sorry, sir.'" Chishiya corrected you.
"Will it happen again?" He asked while caressing your already reddened skin. "No, sir." You spoke softly.
"Good. I believe ten strokes will be in order then." And with that, his hand came down to your butt once again. Already counting the two smacks before that, his hand met your skin another seven times after the current one. It wasn't necessarily harsh, but enough to make your skin sting.
You were whimpering under his touch, your skin burning. The quiet sounds that left your lips undid something inside him.
His erection was pressing against you, you could feel it through his trousers. The mere feeling of it made your hips twitch. Chishiya noticed. Of course he noticed. No matter how caught up in the moment he was, he could never ignore the way your body was reacting to his.
Without any further warning, he moved his hand away from your butt and in between your legs. You moaned at the sudden touch. "Quiet." Chishiya said softly, his fingers now covered in your juices. You didn't even have time to react when he slid his middle finger inside you. His breathing was heavy as he clenched his teeth together, refraining himself from moaning at the soft and warm feeling of your walls around his digit.
You tried to stay silent, but when he started pumping his finger in and out of you, the sloppy sounds taking over the quietness of the room, you lost control over yourself. The moans came out eager, your hips bucking against him eagerly.
"I said quiet." Chishiya spoke through gritted teeth, his free hand finding your hair and gripping a fistful of it. He pressed your head against the mattress, your moans becoming quiet, muffled sounds. And then he added a second finger, pumping them, curling them somewhere deep inside you.
Your mind was racing. You had long forgotten what was actually happening here, and more importantly, who it was happening with. All you could focus on was the way your body was reacting to what he was doing to you. The way your hips bucked involuntarily, a knot forming in your lower regions. You focused on the way he curled his fingers at precisely the right spot, as if he knew your body better than you did. And his clothed erection still pressing against you only proved that he wanted this, too.
And he did. Most importantly, he wanted you to learn your lesson and feel good about it. Right now, his only goal was to make you come around his fingers. To make you come while you lay sprawled across his lap. And once you did, he would grab your still sensitive body, sit you up to straddle him, and shove his cock into you. You didn't deserve any trace of mercy for the way you had treated him earlier. He just wanted to fuck you until you weren't able to walk straight.
He almost moaned at the mere thought of it, fastening his pace, thrusting his fingers even deeper inside you. And then he felt it, your walls starting to clench around them. His cock twitched inside his trousers from excitement. He pressed your face harder against the mattress. Truly a shame, he thought to himself. He just wanted to hear those dirty moans leave your lips. He wanted you to say his name when you came for him.
Your orgasm crashed over you, his fingers guiding you through it. He threw his head back, groaning a soft "That's it." before his eyes were back on your body, watching the way you came undone.
When you had come down from your high, the grip on your hair loosened and you lifted your head, taking a deep breath. Chishiya grabbed you with both hands and moved you onto his laps, your legs straddling him. You were still trying to catch your breath, when he fumbled with his belt, the soft clang of metal mixing with your heavy breathing.
You rubbed your cunt against his cock, leaving a visible wet stain on his trousers. You grinned, but Chishiya smacked that grin right out of your face. His fingers stayed on your face after slapping your cheek, but before he could say anything, both your pagers went off.
"Fuck!" He cursed loudly, the desperation heavy in his voice. You jumped off his lap, already collecting your scattered panties and trousers.
Chishiya had already straightened, buttoning his white coat, hiding the evidence of your mark on his pants.
He glanced at the pager, his tone sharp again. “It’s the girl in 304. Get dressed and meet me there.” And then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him.
You tugged your clothes back on, fumbling with the buttons in a hurry, your mind whiplashing from the heated intimacy of seconds ago to the urgency of now. Then you ran, the soles of your shoes slapping against the linoleum floor as you rushed back to the unit.
The moment you arrived, the air was thick with tension. A young girl, barely five, lay pale and gasping on the bed, her tiny chest rising in desperate, shallow movements. A nurse pressed an oxygen mask to her face while another barked for the crash cart. The monitors screamed with every dip in her oxygen saturation.
Chishiya was already there, stethoscope pressed to her chest, his brows furrowed in concentration. He pulled the earpieces free, his voice calm. “It’s fluids. We’ll have to drain them. Thoracentesis.”
You didn’t hesitate. While the nurses prepped the child, you moved quickly, gathering the supplies: antiseptic, sterile gloves, large-bore needle with catheter, collection bottles. You laid them out in order, your hands steady despite the adrenaline surging through you.
When the tray was ready, you held it up, expecting him to take the gloves and begin. But instead, he shook his head once, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “You do it.”
Your eyes flicked to his, searching for any trace of doubt. There was none. Just quiet certainty. Trust. You swallowed hard and nodded, pulling on the sterile gloves.
The process unfolded step by step, your focus narrowing to a sharp point. You swabbed the skin with antiseptic, then palpated for the correct spot between the ribs, midway up the chest wall, where you could avoid blood vessels and nerves.
The girl whimpered softly. You murmured to her, your voice gentle, promising that she was safe.
With one last deep breath, you inserted the needle. A brief resistance, then a sudden give, the unmistakable shift as you entered the pleural space. Clear fluid rushed into the catheter, the pressure in her tiny chest beginning to ease.
“Good,” Chishiya murmured from beside you, his presence solid and steady at your shoulder. His hand hovered near yours, not intervening, only there if you needed it. “Keep it slow. Controlled.”
You did. Carefully, you let the fluid drain into the bottle, watching her breathing gradually improve, her chest rising a little deeper, a little stronger.
When you finally withdrew the catheter, securing the dressing with deft fingers, the girl’s oxygen saturation climbed steadily on the monitor. Relief rippled through the room. You exhaled, realising only now that you hadn't dared to breathe the entire time.
Chishiya leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not bad.” It wasn’t exactly praise, but the glimmer in his eyes told you more than words ever could.
The girl was stable. Her tiny chest rose and fell evenly now, her oxygen levels holding steady. The monitors no longer screamed but hummed quietly, a steady rhythm that let the entire room exhale at once.
You peeled off your gloves, tossing them into the bin, your hands trembling faintly as the rush of adrenaline ebbed. It was the kind of tremor only you noticed, easily masked by the calm expression you wore for the child’s parents, who hovered nearby in tears of relief.
The head nurse gave your shoulder a firm squeeze, her lined face softening with rare approval. “Good work, doctor.”
Doctor. Not resident. Not girl. Doctor.
Several of the younger nurses exchanged looks, whispers following in the wake of your performance. You had earned their respect, not just for being kind, not just for lending a hand when others thought themselves above it, but for proving you had the skill to back it up.
And still, despite their chatter, your gaze kept sliding to Chishiya. He was standing off to the side, arms crossed, eyes on you. He didn’t say a word. Not in front of them. But you felt it, the weight of his attention, the subtle difference in the way he watched you.
The whispers at the nurses’ station picked up again after the girl was wheeled away for monitoring.
“She’s good,” one nurse murmured.
“She has to be good, considering Dr. Chishiya let her do the procedure.”
“Not just let her. He trusted her.”
“And the way he looked at her-" Giggles were shared between the nurses. The jealous nurse said nothing this time. Her silence was louder than words.
Later, when the ward calmed and everyone dispersed, you found yourself alone in the corridor with him. You expected him to ignore you. To act as though the entire event was already erased from his memory. But instead, his voice cut through the quiet.
“You kept your hands steady,” he said without looking at you. His tone was cool, dismissive even. “Most residents would have hesitated.” You smiled faintly. “Are you saying you’re impressed, Dr. Chishiya?” His eyes finally met yours, sharp as a scalpel. “Don’t push it.”
That night, sleep eluded you. You lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, your mind spinning in loops that refused to settle. The procedure replayed in vivid detail. Your steady hands, the moment the fluid drained, the relief on the girl’s face as her breathing eased. Pride warmed your chest. You had done it.
But what kept you awake wasn’t just the emergency. It was everything that had happened minutes before it. His words. His grip. His control. The way he had almost unraveled before the pagers went off.
You turned in bed, pressing your cheek into the pillow. What more would have happened, if the alarm hadn’t interrupted? The thought set a strange, hot coil twisting low in your stomach.
Somewhere across the city, Chishiya lay awake too. He stared at the ceiling of his apartment, but all he could see was you. The way you had looked at him when you challenged him. The way you hadn’t flinched when he pushed too far. The way you had handled yourself in the emergency, obedient when you had to be.
It should have filled him with satisfaction, even pride. Instead, it filled him with need. A gnawing, restless hunger that only worsened the longer he fought it.
His hand twitched towards his waistband once, but he stopped, jaw clenching. No. That wouldn’t be enough. Taking care of it himself would feel hollow. His body knew what it wanted. Who it wanted.
And that was the problem.
The next day, the entire ward felt the edge in him. He was sharper than usual, every word clipped like the cut of a scalpel. Nurses avoided his path, residents shrank under the weight of his irritation.
He let you do your work, only checking in with you a handful of times, his gaze lingering longer than it should each time. The more he was around you, the tighter the coil in him wound, impossible to ignore.
By the end of the day, he was a storm barely contained in human skin.
You were at the nurses’ station, returning the last of the charts. The ward was quiet now, the air heavy with the calm before the night shift. You stacked the files neatly, already picturing the changing room, the relief of shedding your coat.
Then you felt it. Heat. Breath. A presence just behind you, close enough to make the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. His voice ghosted into your ear. “Are you free tonight?”
The words weren’t casual. They weren’t a question so much as a demand, framed in velvet but sharpened with intent.
You froze, your hand still resting on the chart, your pulse thundering in your throat. Slowly, you turned your head just enough to see him from the corner of your eye. His arms were crossed as usual, his expression carved from ice, but his pupils blown wide, betraying him.
And just like that, every sleepless thought from last night roared back to life. You weren’t ready to give in that easily. Not to him. Not to the man who had made you feel worthless in the beginning, who only let cracks show when he lost control.
So instead of answering, you tilted your head, voice light as you said, “What’s this? Are you actually asking me out?”
For a fraction of a second, his brows knitted together, not in amusement, but in the faintest flicker of disbelief. It was subtle, but you caught it, and your stomach dropped.
“I’m joking,” you said quickly, your hand flying up in mock surrender.
The silence stretched heavily between you, every tick of the clock behind the nurses’ station amplified. His gaze pinned you in place, waiting.
Finally, you exhaled and admitted, “I’m free tonight. After dinner.”
That was all he needed. His jaw tightened, a muscle feathering along his cheek as he gave a single, firm nod. “Good,” he said. “We’ll grab something on the way to my place.”
It took a second too long for your brain to process.
His place? Your lips parted, eyes widening slightly. “Wait, you mean right after work?”
He didn’t even bother answering. He had already made up his mind the moment you had said the words I’m free.
You tried to recover, stumbling over your words. “I didn’t mean it like that! We obviously don’t have to grab dinner together."
But Chishiya was already walking away, his white coat brushing past the corner of the corridor. His voice drifted back, not even granting you a glance over his shoulder, "I know. Meet me in the parking lot.” And then he was gone.
You stood there, stunned. Shocked, maybe. Surprised, definitely. But more than anything, your stomach buzzed with an anticipation you couldn’t quite smother.
Slowly, almost against your own will, a smile curved your lips as you turned towards the changing rooms, taking a quick shower before walking to the parking lot.
In the adjoining corridor, someone else had heard.
The nurse stood frozen, her back pressed against the wall, her nails digging crescents into her palms. Every word had carried across the quiet hall, every detail enough to confirm what the gossip had only dared to suggest.
Her breath came uneven, as she moved towards the window that overlooked the lot. She stood there, waiting, watching.
Minutes later, she saw you emerge, coat draped over your arm, hair still slightly mussed from the long shift. And then she saw him. Chishiya. Already by his car, leaning casually against it as if this was the most natural thing in the world.
When you slid into the passenger seat and the doors shut, the faintest smile still lingering on your face, something inside her snapped.
The car ride was quiet, the hum of the tires on asphalt filling the silence. You shifted in your seat, fingers drumming lightly against your thigh.
“Do you always drive in complete silence?” you asked finally, the corner of your lips twitching. Chishiya’s hands tightened ever so slightly on the wheel. He didn’t look at you when he answered. “I like to focus on the road. Better than listening to music. Or worse, the radio.”
That earned him a soft laugh, one you tried to stifle with your hand. Control freak, you thought to yourself. “What’s so amusing?” His voice was sharp, but curiosity threaded through it. “Nothing.” You shook your head, biting your lip to keep the truth from slipping out.
From the corner of your eye, you caught the quick glance he shot you. His jaw was tense, his eyes darker than the dim interior of the car should allow.
“Stop biting that damn lip of yours,” he muttered, his tone low, almost a growl.
Your pulse quickened, heat curling in your stomach. “What’s a worse distraction then? Some light music or me biting my lip?” you teased, your voice soft but laced with defiance.
He didn’t answer. Not out loud, anyway. In his head, the words burned: You running that damn mouth of yours. His fingers twitched against the steering wheel, and he cursed silently as a familiar pressure built beneath his belt.
Chishiya’s apartment wasn’t far. A sleek, modern complex that screamed understated luxury. You stepped out of the car and looked up, wide-eyed.
“We didn't get anything to eat,” you said, half to yourself. He rolled his eyes, lowering his voice in a way that didn’t reach you. “Don’t you worry. We’ll find something to fill your mouth with.”
“What?” you asked, turning towards him. His jaw clenched once, then again, before he let out a breath, voice more composed. “We can order something.”
Inside, the elevator hummed softly as it carried you both up. The mirrored walls reflected back your shifting forms, the silence pressing in again, heavier this time.
You inhaled, whispering almost to yourself, “This seems like a very fancy building.” Leaning slightly forward, you tried to peer around him to catch a glimpse of the floor numbers climbing higher. That small, innocent movement tipped everything.
Chishiya snapped. His hand was at your throat in an instant, pinning you back against the cold mirror. His grip was firm and demanding. His breath hit your cheek a heartbeat before his lips crashed against yours.
You gasped against his mouth, your hands flying up in reflex, only to be caught in his grasp. His fingers wrapped around your wrists, pressing them into the glass above your head.
You kissed him back and it was fire meeting gasoline. His lips moved over yours with a desperate precision, devouring. His body pressed into you fully, chest to chest, hips caging you against the mirrored wall. There was no escape, no space between you, just heat and want.
Every shift of his mouth told a story of restraint cracking, of control he could no longer maintain. And when his tongue swept across yours, the elevator might as well have disappeared.
Your lungs burned, your pulse thundered, but you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t.
The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, shattering the haze you had both been pulled under.
Chishiya pulled back instantly, his hand falling from your wrists as though nothing had just happened. He stepped out, leaving you breathless, lips tingling, heat still curling low in your stomach. You trailed after him, wondering what the hell that had just been.
His apartment matched him perfectly: clean, sleek, modern. Sterile, almost. White walls, no warmth, no personal touches. It was beautiful but cold, like the man himself.
He slipped off his shoes and padded into the kitchen, where pristine countertops stretched beneath untouched appliances. A drawer opened, and he pulled out a small stack of leaflets.
“Pick something,” he said simply, tossing them onto the island. “Anything. I’ll be fine with whatever.” You picked them up, flipping through menus. “Seems like a big responsibility,” you murmured.
Chishiya poured a glass of water and slid it towards you without looking. “I think you’ll manage.” You raised the glass, quirking a brow. “What, is wine too much rendezvous-like?”
“I don’t consume alcohol.” His tone was clipped, final. “Of course not,” you muttered into the rim, sipping anyway.
When you finally settled on a place, he wordlessly picked up his phone and ordered online, barely glancing at the menu before choosing something. Efficient. Detached. Exactly him.
But the silence that followed wasn’t detached, it was heavy, still burning with the memory of his lips on yours. Your cheeks flamed.
“So…” you said finally, twisting the glass between your palms. “Is this it? The part where you show me your secret sex dungeon?”
His brows knitted, but the corner of his mouth tugged, just slightly. “This isn’t Fifty Shades of Grey,” he said, his voice flat, but the smallest trace of amusement there.
You gasped, hand flying to your chest in mock shock. “Wait- you know it?”
He exhaled that familiar breathy sound, almost a laugh but not quite. “If that’s what you were expecting, I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
He took his own glass, lifted it to his lips, then nodded towards the couch. You followed, sitting beside him, the cushions dipping between your bodies.
He leaned back casually, but his eyes locked on yours. “This isn’t something story-telling-worthy,” he said slowly. “There are no contracts. But there will be rules. Not many. Just things that matter to me. Or to you, if you have any."
Your throat tightened. “Like what?” He sipped his water, then tilted his head against the cushion, looking devastatingly composed.
“You don’t touch me. Not unless I allow you to. Which will probably be never." His voice was steady, his eyes never wavering. “You don’t lay with anyone else while this lasts. And I won’t, either. You don’t lie to me. About anything.”You swallowed, your pulse hammering. “That’s it?”
“Not entirely.” He shifted, resting his elbow along the back of the couch, the picture of calm control. “You don’t run your mouth when I tell you to stop. You follow instructions when I give them. And if you can’t do that, then this ends before it even begins.” His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your gaze. “Can you handle that?”
You nodded slowly, choosing silence over the words hovering at the edge of your tongue, that what he described almost sounded relationship-like… minus the whole dating part. But you believed you could be okay with this. Maybe.
His gaze lingered. Then he added, “Either one of us can end this whenever. No explanations needed.” You tilted your head, chewing your lip before asking, “So, say I don’t enjoy the night with you… we can just go back to supervising doctor and resident tomorrow morning?”
For the briefest moment, his lips twitched. Almost a laugh. Almost. His eyes softened, if only for a second, as if your shy but surprisingly blunt honesty amused him. He nodded once.
“So basically…” you pressed, clarifying carefully, “this is… a sexual relationship? Without the romance part, and without any intimacy except a physical one?”
Chishiya leaned back against the couch, water glass balanced loosely in his hand. He gave a slight nod, though his eyes stayed sharp, studying every flicker of your expression.
“All right,” you said at last, voice steadier than you expected. “If this is what you want…”
Chishiya inhaled, the breath subtle but weighted. This is the only way I want things to be, he told himself firmly. The words had come easily before, to others. Rehearsed and clean.
But when he said it to you-
“This is the only way I want things to be.”
-something twisted in his chest. A pause. A hesitation that shouldn’t be there. As if the words weren’t entirely true. As if some buried part of him was already resisting.
He took another sip, hiding it. Your eyes searched his. Then, finally, you gave a small nod, the tiniest curve ghosting at the corner of your lips. “…then I’m willing to try.”
The silence stretched between you, the air weighted by unspoken promises. For once, Chishiya didn’t retreat behind his usual clipped commands or cool detachment. Instead, he leaned back into the couch cushions, and asked, “So. Why paediatrics?”
It was such a normal question that it almost startled you. His voice was steady, casual even, but you could see it for what it was: a diversion, a way to keep his mind and his body in check until the food arrived.
You tilted your head, biting back a smile. “Why not paediatrics?” He hummed faintly. “Most new doctors chase the prestige. Cardiology. Surgery. Trauma. Paediatrics doesn’t exactly come with bragging rights.”
You shrugged, your gaze locked on his, deliberately unblinking. “Maybe I like taking care of things other people underestimate.” His eyes narrowed just slightly, catching the undertone immediately. “Is that so?”
“Mm,” you said, leaning forward just enough for your knee to brush his. “I’ve always liked… challenges.”
The faintest crease formed at the corner of his mouth. He studied you carefully, and you could see the war behind his eyes. He was supposed to ignore this. To keep the lines sharp. But your voice, your eyes, your barely-there grin, it all chipped at his composure.
“And you?” you asked lightly, your tone laced with quiet mischief. “Why paediatrics? Was it the children… or the thrill of bossing around terrified residents?”
His gaze sharpened, a flash of heat that made your breath catch. He didn’t answer, not right away. His lips parted as though he might, then the doorbell chimed. The sound sliced the tension in two.
Chishiya’s jaw clenched. He pushed himself off the couch without another word and crossed the apartment to the door. Only when the lock clicked did you realise you had been holding your breath. You let it out slowly, your lungs aching, your skin hot.
You followed him into the kitchen as he unpacked the takeout, setting containers down. He pulled two plates from a cabinet, laid out chopsticks.
You slid onto one of the stools at the island, unwrapping your food, but your eyes kept wandering. To the sharp angle of his jaw under the lights. To the long, precise lines of his fingers against the wooden chopsticks. To the looseness of his posture that didn’t hide the coil of tension still wound tight beneath the surface.
You barely touched your food. Chishiya caught your stare. His exhale was heavy and frustrated.
“You either start eating your food,” he said, voice low, the edge of a growl under the words, “or stop staring at me…”
“…because if you don’t, I’ll take you right on this counter.” Your breath hitched, chopsticks faltering in your hand. A hot rush of excitement shot through your veins, settling low in your stomach.
And yet, you couldn’t look away.
Chishiya dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, folding it neatly on the counter.
And finally, he looked at you. Your lips parted, your chest tight as though the air itself had thickened between you. Slowly, you wet your lips with your tongue, never breaking eye contact.
The flicker of movement changed something in him. His jaw clenched, and he shook his head once.
“Fine,” he said, voice rougher. “I gave you a choice.”
Then he was behind you, one hand tangling into your hair, the other pressing you forward until your cheek met the cool surface of the island. His body loomed over yours, heat radiating, restraint hanging by the thinnest thread.
His breath grazed your ear, “Don’t ever think you can tease me like that without being punished for it.”
A shiver coursed down your spine. Your voice slipped out soft and innocent, but deliberately so. “Sorry, sir.”
Your hips shifted, pressing back against him, a clear provocation. That was the final snap.
He yanked you upright by your hair, pulling you against him with a sharpness that made your pulse thunder. His movements were controlled. Dragging you towards the hallway, his grip was unrelenting, every step pulsing with the weight of a decision long postponed. You stumbled after him, adrenaline spiking.
“What happened to ‘right on this counter’?” you teased breathlessly, unable to help yourself. He stopped just short of the bedroom door, yanking your face close to his. His gaze bored into yours, searing.
His fingers trailed across your lips, featherlight, mocking. “Changed my mind,” he murmured, tone razor-sharp. “I’ll take my sweet time with you. And take care of that smug mouth of yours first.”
Before you could respond, two of his fingers slipped past your lips, pressing against your tongue, his eyes locked on you as though daring you to resist.
The world blurred, all sound muffled except the thrum of your pulse and the heat of his breath.
Then, without another word, he tugged you forward, shoving open the bedroom door and dragging you inside.
The door shut with a decisive click. "Undress yourself." He commanded. You blinked at him once. "Now." He added eagerly.
You started peeling your clothes off. He walked to the bedside table, turning on the lamp. The room was filled with a soft and warm light. When he turned around, you could see it in his eyes that you were not undressing yourself fast enough.
So you hurried, stepping out of your jeans, while the only thing he got rid off was his cardigan.
And then he watched you. Your underwear was the only layer of clothes left. His eyes burned into you, his lips curling in the faintest hint of a smirk. He didn't have to say a word. You were already unhooking your bra, your eyes quickly drifting to the floor.
"You're beautiful." He said quietly as he stepped closer. He didn't even know what made him say it. But he wanted to ease the tension you were currently feeling, your whole body stiff from it.
Chishiya stood in front of you, arms crossed. "Look at me." You lifted your gaze, eyes meeting his so innocently. The stinging feeling loomed inside his chest again. That you might not be what he needs. That he might not be what you need. But he couldn't stop himself.
"I'm not gentle. Don't expect cosy love-making from me. If things become too much and you want me to slow down, you say 'yellow'. If you want me to stop immediately, you say 'red'. Do you understand?" He didn't step closer, didn't cage you in, because he didn't want you to feel pressured. Almost instantly, you nodded. "Use your words." Chishiya said, raising his eyebrow.
"Yes. I understand." You said, trying to keep your voice steady. "Do you still want this?" He asked with caution. "Yes." The word came out faster than anticipated. "Sir." You added teasingly.
Chishiya walked around you, coming up behind you, clearly satisfied with your answer. "Hands behind your back." There was no fight in you when you did as he said. You heard the clang of metal as he undid his belt, using it to tie your hands together tightly.
He placed one hand on top of your head, "Now get on your knees."
Once you were settled on your knees, Chishiya moved in front of you, his hand never leaving your head. You were face to face with his crotch. A spark of excitement shot through you as he started to undo his trousers. You clenched your legs together as his cock came into view. He was rock hard, the tip leaking the smallest bit of pre-cum.
"Fuck, Chishiya." You moaned at the sight of him. He was quick to slap your cheek, "You speak only when I ask you to." That was his usual rule. But hearing you moan his name like that did something to him. Something unlike anything he's ever felt before. This reaction, this... feeling unsettled him. So he quickly added, "Now keep that bold mouth of yours open and stick your tongue out."
You did and when you looked up at him with those pretty eyes, he had to clench his teeth not to moan out involuntarily. He slid his cock into your mouth, his entire length until the tip reached the back of your throat and your nose touched his pelvis. A low growl escaped his throat.
You tried to breathe through your nose, but it still felt as if you weren't getting enough air. When you tried to move your head, he grabbed a fistful of your hair, holding your head in place until you started choking on him. Only then did he push your head backwards, pulling his cock out of your mouth, allowing you to take a deep breath.
His dick was already glistening with your saliva. Satisfaction plastered his face, mixed with something wicked, as he rammed his cock back into your mouth. He gave you no time to adjust to the situation. The only choice you had was keeping your mouth open for him as he fucked it mercilessly. "That's it." He groaned through clenched teeth. The room was filled with sloppy sounds, saliva flowing down your chin in a massive amount.
His grip in your hair was harsh, moving you exactly how he wanted you to. He was in control. Or at least that's what he thought. You closed your mouth around him, giving you the ability to actually suck him, despite his attempts to just fuck your mouth and being in complete control. His eyes shot down to yours, "Fuck, I said keep your mouth open!" His words sounded way too desperate. The corners of your mouth curled upwards wickedly as you opened your mouth again, looking up at him as innocently as possible.
But you weren't keen on giving up so easily. So whenever he pulled his hips back, eager to slam them into you again, you swirled your tongue around his tip.
Chishiya, however, saw right through you. He should have been annoyed with how boldly you ignored his orders. And worse, enjoyed doing it.
He gave a yank on your hair, pulling you upwards. "Get up." His voice was commanding, but there was desperation hidden beneath his icy tone. You struggled to get on your feet with your hands bound behind your back. Once you stood in front of him, he smacked your cheek, the slap echoing through the now quiet room. His hand gripped your face, pulling it closer towards his. "What is it with you and not wanting to follow simple instructions?"
You grinned shamelessly, the view of it making his breath hitch in his throat. Your light mascara had now started to run down your cheeks, your face wet with your own saliva, probably mixed with some of his pre-cum. You were breathing heavily, your jaw was aching. He wanted to memorise every part of this. Of you.
"I told you I like a challenge. Besides, don't tell me you didn't enjoy that." You raised your eyebrows at him. Oh, how desperate he was to just smack that expression off your face. Everything in him told him to punish you, to teach you a lesson. But his instincts betrayed him. In one fierce action, he claimed your lips with his. The kiss was rough, his tongue slipping into your mouth. He didn't know what had come over him to act like this, but he couldn't stop himself.
He pulled away abruptly, frustrated with himself. "Get on the bed. Now." He growled. Your feet carried you over there, your head still dizzy. "Lay on your back. Head facing me." He instructed and for once, you did as he said. You tried to get comfortable, your tied hands nestling uncomfortably beneath your weight.
Chishiya grabbed your arms and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, your head now dangling down. He gave his cock a stroke before lining it up at your mouth. "Open up. And keep it fucking open." You obeyed, his length sliding back into you.
From this position, you could feel it in your throat. He started thrusting his hips immediately, ignoring your gagging sounds completely. He leaned forward, placing his hands on the mattress as he fucked his cock into you.
You moaned around him. "You truly are insufferable." He moaned. His hand shot to your tit, squeezing it harshly before giving it a smack, his fingers now playing with your nipple. Your legs clenched together involuntarily at the sensation.
A low and breathy sound escaped Chishiya's throat. "Open your legs for me." The sound of his voice had your cunt throbbing. He pulled his cock out of your mouth, long strings of saliva still connecting the two of you. He pushed three fingers inside your mouth, collecting your saliva before he moved his hand to your cunt, mixing it with your juices. He started rubbing your clit in just the right motions. You wanted to close your legs to get more friction. Chishiya immediately withdrew his fingers. He kneeled in front of you, his wet fingers grabbing your face, forcing you to look at him. "I swear, if you don't keep those fucking legs open, I will tie them to the bedposts."
"Sorry, sir." Your voice was merely a whisper. His eyes stayed on yours a while longer, before finally returning to his previous position. He shoved his cock back into your mouth, leaning back forward to rub your clit. He moved his hips, his dick thrusting in and out of your mouth. Your head was spinning.
He buried his cock deep down your throat and stilled, moving his hand further down your cunt to insert two of his fingers into you. You moaned loudly, the vibrations in your throat tickling his sensitive tip.
Chishiya growled above you, forcing his hips to move backwards, granting you some air as he started to pump his fingers in and out of you.
You bucked your hips, trying to move them upwards, needing his fingers even deeper inside you. You were a moaning mess, desperately chasing your release.
Chishiya had long forgotten about fucking your mouth, his dick just inches away from your face. He was too caught up in getting you closer to your high. The way you squirmed under his touch granted him just as much satisfaction.
And then your orgasm hit you. Chishiya remained silent while letting you ride out your high, his fingers curled deep inside you.
Once your legs stopped shaking, Chishiya moved you to fully lie on the mattress, turning you around so your head was no longer facing him. Your face was flushed, all the blood having rushed into it. The mattress dipped as Chishiya placed one knee in between your legs.
"Next time, you ask for permission if you want to come." Your head shot up, eyes meeting his. You scoffed, but before you could protest, his hand slapped against your cunt. The words you had on your tongue turned into a moan.
His fingers were back inside you, using the thumb of his other hand to rub your clit. You were way too sensitive for this. His fingers moved with the same precision as they did before. The knot in your lower abdomen formed way too fast again. You tried to move up on the bed, getting away from his touch, but he only gripped your hips, holding you down with force.
"Fuck!" The words came out way too loud. When you tried to press your legs together, he smacked your thigh and forced it back against the mattress. When you tried to move your hips, he pressed his flat hand against your lower belly, keeping you down. There was no escaping him. You were getting closer to the edge. "Please!" You practically begged. "Please, what?" Chishiya's voice was calm, not at all matching any of the events currently happening. "Please, let me come."
"No." His answer was short, his tone clipped. You threw your head back in frustration. "Chish- Sir, I can't-"
He stilled his fingers inside you, curling them, his thumb now rubbing your clit. This alone was enough to throw you over the edge. You tried to fight it, but your walls were already clenching around his fingers. "I'm gonna-"
"No." He repeated, withdrawing his hand from your cunt, your legs desperately clenching together in need for friction.
You looked at him in disbelief. Chishiya stood at the edge of the bed, arms crossed. "It makes you feel rather uneasy, doesn't it? Not being able to get the satisfaction you so desperately need." You swallowed hard, your eyes not leaving his. The corners of his mouth curled upwards. "Now you know exactly how I've been feeling."
You wanted to throw some snappy comeback at him, but you knew better. Worst case scenario: He would leave you exactly like this, unfinished, desperate, needy. "Please," you whispered softly. Chishiya just raised his brows at you. "Please, just fuck me, sir."
He walked around the bed in two long strides and leaned down, his face just a couple of inches away from you, "Careful what you wish for." He opened the drawer of his nightstand and retrieved a condom. He was tired of waiting any longer, of teasing you any longer.
He stopped in his tracks as he realised that. He should not be the one being this desperate. He never was desperate. He enjoyed teasing the women he was with, until they begged for his cock. You've only asked for it once. He would have laughed at himself for giving in so easily. But at the same time, he couldn't stop himself.
He had never wanted anything so bad. In quick motions, he finally removed his clothes, rolling the condom onto his cock, that was still sticky from your saliva.
And when he looked at you, when he saw your pretty eyes on him, an unsettling feeling found its way into his chest. He couldn't name it. It's not like anything he's ever experienced before.
"Turn over." He spoke coldly, his tone sending shivers down your spine. But you tried to roll over. When you weren't fast enough, Chishiya grabbed your hips and guided you onto your knees. Your upper body now pressed against the mattress, your ass sticking up.
One hand was on your ass, the other grabbing your tied hands, as he slowly slid his length into you. This was it. Everything he had been aching for ever since you started to work with him.
You moaned into the mattress, satisfied by the feeling of his cock stretching your cunt. He started to move, thrusting into you with force, holding onto the belt around your wrists to slam your body against his. You didn't even need time to adjust to his girth, your cunt was dripping wet, his dick sliding in and out of you with ease. You could already feel the unsatisfied orgasm from before creeping its way back.
Chishiya leaned forward, burying his cock deep inside you as he grabbed your hair and pulled your upper body up. His hand found your throat, keeping you pressed against him. His other hand slid down to your clit, rubbing gently. And when his hand started choking you, your walls started clenching around him. "Sir, please-" you moaned.
"Do you want to come, huh?" He growled in your ear, his teeth grazing the soft lobe before moving down and biting into your shoulder.
"Yes, please." The desperation had you practically yell out. Chishiya let go of you, your upper body crashing back down onto the mattress. He withdrew his cock and slid his fingers inside you, fucking you with them until your legs gave out and you collapsed onto the mattress. He couldn't dare have you come around his cock, because he would just follow your lead. He curled his fingers at just the right spot, once, twice...
The wave of orgasm crashed over you with a force that was unlike anything you ever experienced before. Your body jerked involuntarily as he tried to use his free hand to hold you in place.
He removed the belt from your hands and flipped you over. "No touching." He reminded you. And then he slammed his cock back into you. Your senses were heightened, everything felt too much, the electricity of your orgasm still shooting through you, making you see stars.
His cock hit that spot deep inside you, your hands grabbing the sheets in desperation. And when his hand moved between your legs, finding your clit, a tear streamed down your face. "No! I can't-"
"Yes, you can. One more time." He spat through clenched teeth. You wanted to cry, the sensation completely overwhelming you. The look on your face was almost enough to send him over the edge. His cock twitched inside of you. "Come for me." He groaned. And despite wanting to pull out of you, rip the condom off and paint your beautiful body with his cum, as soon as your third orgasm of the night washed over you, he couldn't help himself but reach his high with you, filling the condom.
The room was thick with silence, broken only by the sound of your uneven breaths. Your body lay heavy against the mattress, exhaustion humming through every bone, your skin still warm from where his hands had held you down. You wanted to look at him, but you physically weren't able to.
Chishiya removed the condom and sat at the edge of the bed, chest rising and falling more slowly now, gaze fixed on you.
The routine was already mapped out in his head: help you clean up, hand you your clothes, call a cab. It was what he always did. What kept things clean and distant.
But when his eyes trailed over your figure draped across his sheets, something snagged. You looked so… out of place. And yet, not at all. The soft rise of your chest, the strands of hair clinging to your damp forehead, the quiet trust in the way you almost fell asleep right there, every detail dug under his skin like splinters.
He told himself to move, to get up, to maintain the detachment he had always mastered. But his body betrayed him. He leaned back instead, as his mind battled itself.
Why did it feel different? Why did the thought of sending you away make his chest tighten, a sharp pang of something dangerously close to care?
“Stupid,” he muttered under his breath, jaw tightening. “You’re not supposed to matter.”
Yet, against all the odds he had set for himself, against all the carefully constructed rules, he let you stay.
When morning came, the faint clatter of dishes was already drifting from the kitchen. You stirred awake, blinking against the soft light peeking through the blinds.
The sheets clung to your bare skin, smelling faintly of him. With a drowsy stretch, you pulled them around you, shuffling into the kitchen where he stood, already dressed, already composed, like nothing had happened.
His gaze flicked up quickly, before darting back down to the mug in his hand.
“Do you mind if I… use your shower?” you asked, clutching the sheets tighter around your body. He paused a beat too long before replying, “Go ahead.”
You nodded, turning to pad softly down the hallway.
His eyes followed you until you disappeared. He let out a slow, frustrated sigh, the kind that scraped his throat on its way out. His hands tightened around the ceramic mug. If only there was time before work… He would have joined you in that shower.
And God help him, he wanted to.
The kitchen smelled faintly of coffee and disinfectant wipes when you walked in. Chishiya stood waiting, dressed in his usual sharp attire, his bag slung over one shoulder. On the counter sat a neatly packed container.
You blinked, picking it up. “What’s this? Lunch?”
“Yesterday’s takeaway,” he replied smoothly, adjusting his sleeve. “Strangely, you never finished it. Despite spending half the night debating which restaurant to pick.” Your lips curved into a grin. “I wonder why.”
He looked at you, expression cold as always, but his jaw twitched, like he was biting back a smile he didn’t want you to see.
You made your way to the hospital together. The air between you was quiet but charged, as if both of you were pretending it was just another morning.
From the parking lot, a pair of eyes followed. The nurse. Her gaze sharpened when she caught sight of you at his side, her chest tightening until it burned. Something had shifted, and she knew she had to do something about it.
The morning passed without drama. Rounds, charts, treatments. The familiar rhythm of the hospital carried you both, slotting you back into the roles of supervising doctor and resident.
“Patient in 212 is responding well to the treatment,” you told him while scribbling notes. “Do you think I can lower her steroid dose? She’s been stable for over 48 hours.”
He tilted his head, considering. For a moment his eyes lingered on you instead of the chart. Then he nodded once. “Fine. Document the change.”
Later, when another family grew restless, Chishiya’s voice cut through the room. He called your name, motioning towards the boy sitting up in bed. “Take this one. He trusts you more than he trusts me.”
Your chest tightened with quiet pride as you knelt beside the patient, explaining the plan in a calm, reassuring tone.
Around the nurses’ station, whispers floated.
“He’s not snapping today.”
“Still cold, but less… sharp.”
“Must’ve slept for once.”
Just before lunch, you fell into step beside him. “You know,” you began, voice light, “the nurses are praising your less cocky behaviour today.”
He stopped, crossing his arms, his eyes narrowing in mock scrutiny. “So you usually find me cocky as well?” You bit your lip, suppressing the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “I’d rather not answer that.”
The spark was instant. His gaze zeroed in on your mouth, the movement making something dark flicker in his eyes. His voice dropped. “Didn’t I warn you about biting that lip of yours?”
Your tone turned playful, almost daring. “And what are you going to do about it?”
In one swift motion, his hand cupped your face, tilting it up so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. His voice was a low, dangerous whisper. “Careful. There are plenty of on-call rooms I can take you.”
Before you could fire back, he released you and turned, striding towards his next meeting as if nothing had happened. Leaving you breathless in the hallway, your pulse hammering.
The break room hummed faintly with the microwave, its timer ticking down the last few seconds. You leaned against the counter, arms folded, waiting for the beep. The halls outside were alive with chatter, but in here, it was quiet. Almost too quiet.
The microwave dinged. You pulled your container out, the smell of last night’s food filling the small room.
The door opened and nurse Misaki walked in.
For a moment, neither of you said anything. She busied herself at the sink, but you could feel her eyes flick toward you in the reflection of the metal cupboard.
Finally, her voice broke the silence. “So. Dr. Chishiya and you…?” You set the food down at the table, sliding into a chair with deliberate calm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, tone casual, almost dismissive.
She turned then, stepping closer. Her shoes clicked softly against the linoleum. When she spoke again, her words were sharper. “I don’t think you’ll be able to satisfy Master’s needs.”
You nearly choked, coughing against the bite of food you had just taken. Wiping your mouth with a napkin, you looked at her, disbelief painted across your face. “I’m sorry- what did you just say?”
Her expression didn’t flinch. She leaned down, voice lowering as if savouring every word. “You’re nothing special. He’ll get rid of you soon enough. And when he does, I’ll be there to take care of his needs. Like I always have.”
Your chest tightened, the weight of her words settling in. Before you could answer, she tilted her head, her smile oddly sweet. “That’s right. Master Chishiya and I share a past. And I’m not giving up on him easily.”
The air in the break room felt suffocating. Your fork stilled against the container, your throat dry as her words echoed. Shared past. Master.
She straightened, brushing imaginary lint from her scrub top, her eyes never leaving yours. “Enjoy your little moment while it lasts.”
And with that, she turned and left, the door swinging shut behind her. Your appetite was gone. All you could hear was the rush of blood in your ears, the words Master Chishiya repeating in your head like a curse.
Continue to: Anatomy of Feelings
A/N: ahem... All I can say is that this is probably one of the smuttiest things I've ever written... And I'm not done yet. So stay tuned for part 3 ♡
Taglist (18+, including those who wanted to be tagged in part 2): @mypsychoticlove @rurujm @butterishjam @stilltrynafuckingtumble @the-bookish-artist @ronjantz @carlandoxlestappen @74zix47 @badbishsblog
Kinktober Day 2 - Kidnapping | Suguru Niragi x F!Reader
Kinktober 2025 Masterlist
Content Warning: NSFW (18+); plot-heavy porn, quite a bit of smutty smut, sex in an awkward position, some parts may toe the line of dubcon, but don't worry; Reader is kind of crazy, Niragi is forced to be good for Reader (only slightly subby), Niragi and Reader get walked in on by a character, curse words, brief mention of alcohol
I won't tell anyone what or what not to do, but please interact responsibly ✨️
A/N - This is 1000% not the story I was originally planning to write, but I think I like this more than the darker route I'd written first. Maybe one day I'll release the other version of the story 😘
I am SO sorry this got posted so late, I got murdered at work and came home just to get broken up with . . . so . . . there's that.
“We do it this week,” Niragi sneers to the small group of Militants ironically playing cards at the table around him, "I'm getting impatient." The three men glance up, their eyes locking intently on you – dressed adorably in a slinky polka dot bikini, a flowing cover up tied delicately around your hips. It's like you’re silently daring them to look without even realizing that you're doing it.
The men nod in acknowledgement of the job Niragi has tasked them with. They continue staring at you long after the dark-haired menace has sauntered off, his rifle balanced menacingly on his right shoulder. You would be an idiot to not notice how the group of Militants are gawking, given that they’re essentially burning holes in your skin with their probing retinas. Of course you realize it.
They can’t help it, though, not really. Most men of The Beach and even some women are often captivated by your presence. You’re truly a beauty to behold - perched up on your lounger, the glittering cerulean of the pool reflecting off sunkissed skin. But that’s not where it ends; you're also smart, kind, and have something about you that no one can ever seem to place. Cunning.
The three men that Niragi has threatened the unspeakable with have to figure out a way to get you alone. To lure you away from your seemingly endless tribe of friends without any of them noticing or heaven forbid, fighting back. Their brains shift into overdrive as they consider any and all ways to get the deed done, because if they don’t? It’s Niragi’s wrath they'll have to face. And that's a death sentence.
You have to hand it to him, Niragi, that is. He’s certainly a clever guy, devious and masterful even. But there is one major thing that he is not that really works to your advantage – quiet. The man had been parading around The Beach for weeks bragging to anyone and everyone about his plan to kidnap you to finally get a taste of what you’re like, of what you're really hiding from the world.
Your heart had thrummed like a bass drum in your chest when Tatta had hurriedly whispered the gossip in your ear when sliding your favorite fruity drink across the granite bartop one afternoon. Not out of fear, no. Excitement.
Because from your first glance at Niragi, even through all the horror, violence, and gore of Borderland, you've known it – you definitely want a taste of him too.
There’s just one slight problem – a double-edged sword, really. You're both blessed and cursed with a secret, highly overprotective brother that had come along with you to Borderland. By secret, you mean that he had decided it would be safer for you to not be associated with him publicly, given the nature of his position at The Beach.
And Aguni? Well, he had many times explicitly forbade you from so much as breathing the same air as Niragi or any of the other Militants. And when he caught wind of Niragi’s not-so-secret plan?
“I’ll take care of it. You just focus on not getting your head blown off in your next game.”
“Sure, Aguni. You do that . . .,” you’d thought internally with a Cheshire grin. It would only make your own plan run more smoothly.
Because along with your older brother comes the opposite edge of the metaphorical sword - your older brother’s best friend. Also known as the raging lunatic that had built this utopia from the ground up and the man that would certainly stop at nothing to ensure you were happy.
That’s how you’d finally come to this moment, sat precariously on the edge of the couch opposite Hatter, ensuring your body doesn't touch too much surface area - because who the fuck knows what had been there? Takeru's colorful kimono is just barely draped over his shoulders, his heaving chest bare; he's definitely drunk off his ass at ten in the morning and probably high as well, but hey. Who are you to judge what he does in what could be the last days of his life? Most impressive of all are the two pretty, young girls dressed in sparkling, skimpy bikinis flanking him, their hands running over his skin unabashedly as if no one else has ever existed in this world. Quite the power move - one you'd be locking away into the depths of your mind for later.
His head falls back in a characteristic barking laugh after you've explained what you're here for, his sparkling gaze finding yours over the rim of his aviators. “Our little princess is growing up,” he smirks with pride, “Talking about kidnapping some bloodthirsty man just so he can fuck her brains out behind her brother’s back.”
You glare back at him, tapping your fingertips impatiently against your knee. “So will you help me, Takeru?” you ask when he's finally done teasing you. He sits back with a sigh, his arms splaying over the back of the plush couch behind the two girls, expression turned weirdly serious.
"Aguni has warned you on multiple occasions not to get anywhere near Niragi, and yet . . . here you are again seeking him out," he reminds you irritatingly. You nod curtly before swiftly defending yourself. "Yes, but I already told you, Niragi is planning to kidnap me. I just want to give him a taste of his own medicine," you say with faux innocence, bright eyes widened and tone dripping with sugary sweetness.
Hatter hums, stroking his beard in that grating, condescending way that makes your skin crawl. Your teeth find the inside of your cheek, trying to shove down the disdain you feel for your brother's best friend in this moment. You need his help for this to work.
"I could die in my game tomorrow," you remind him coolly, speaking quickly before he can respond. "Seize the day, right? Take what you want today because you might not have the chance tomorrow? Well today I want Niragi. Help me." There's that cunning again. You'd used Hatter's own words against him, and you knew that you had him.
Hatter constructs a flawless plan for kidnapping Niragi without making a fuss, instructing his team of ridiculously muscular bodyguards on exactly what to do. It almost gives you the creeps, how effortlessly the man is prepared to make people disappear, though you decide to ignore that piece of information for now. Before you leave him to whatever sins he's planning to get up to, he promises not to say a word to Aguni about what had transpired here. Though you grin dazzlingly up at him, hugging him tight as a huge thank you, you don't buy his smug bullshit for even a second.
And you are counting on Hatter to tell Aguni everything.
♤ ♡ ◇ ♧
The excited thud of your pulse thrums in your ears, your breath catching tightly in your chest as you see Niragi begin to stir back into consciousness. Showtime. True to Hatter's plan, his goon squad and yourself had utilized the hotel's CCTV system to locate Niragi when he was away from everyone else, the men knocking him unconscious and dragging him down to this dingy closet in the basement.
He looks almost peaceful like this, asleep under the warm light of just a single, swinging lightbulb. It's as though the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders leaving just a pierced, pretty boy for you to absolutely ruin.
"What the actual fuck is going on?" Niragi's gravelly voice demands the second his brain begins to register that he's both blindfolded and restrained to a chair. He's quick to fight against the restraints like a fish flopping on a hook, and you take the opportunity to jump off the box you'd been perched on to walk towards your prisoner. A wicked grin spreads across your face as you look down at him, bending over so that your lips brush against the shell of his ear.
"Looks like I've turned the tables on you, Niragi," you murmur, sharp teeth nipping at his earlobe. Obviously completely blindsided by the turn of events, he jumps at your proximity, whispering your name incredulously like it's a curse word.
"You're kidding me...," he spits. "How?"
Your head falls back in a sinful laugh, slowly ridding yourself of your bikini as if you were performing a strip tease, though knowing that Niragi wouldn't have the pleasure of seeing it. "You underestimated me, Suguru," you say, voice dripping with malice as your strappy bikini top slips to the floor with a tiny clink of the metal clasp.
"You think you're the only one with connections to people in high places?" You chuckle, not giving him the chance to interject before speaking again. Completely bare and full of confidence, you allow your arms to drape over his shoulders, your lean legs straddling his hips as you crawl into his lap. The best part about having Niragi blindfolded is how reactive and sensitive it makes him; the man initially flinching as you crawl into his lap, then becoming characteristically agitated as he realizes he can't touch you.
Before he can begin complaining, you unbutton his shirt slowly, exposing his muscular and scarred chest to you. Delicate fingers trace over each line, every one of them telling a story that you'd one day have to ask about. Arousal floods your core simply at the sight of him like this, and you realize quickly that you're absolutely fucked when it comes to him.
"For fuck's sake . . .," he growls, his wrists straining against the rope and cutting into his porcelain skin, "If you aren't going to let me see you, at least let me touch you." His whiny tone is damn-near pleading, sending a shiver down your spine. You hum in consideration, teasing the dark-haired man underneath you, and honestly? Yourself too.
"I don't know, Niragi," you hum. "Can you be good for me?" The Militant huffs impatiently, because who the hell do you think you are to try to manhandle Suguru Niragi? But for whatever reason, he allows his body to relax against the restraints, showing you he can be good if it means you'll let him touch your naked body.
You lean forward to reach for the ropes binding his hands, ultimately squishing your bare tits against his, making both of you suck in a desperate breath at the unintentional (but very welcome) contact. Your hips instinctively grind down against the rapidly growing bulge in his jeans, busying your hands with getting the ropes untied as quickly as possible.
Niragi chuckles lowly at the flustered way you react, turning his head to press open-mouthed kisses to the delicate flesh of your neck. "You've wanted me all this time, haven't you angel?" He questions dangeously, smirking proudly against your skin.
You swallow a needy whimper, doubling down on the particularly difficult knot to free Niragi's hands. Determination courses in your veins to maintain dominance in this encounter. Even blindfolded and still mostly tied up, he finds the extra sensitive spot near your collarbone that makes you moan, your wet heat absolutely dripping for him.
"I knew it, princess," he mutters between bruising sucks and bites to your throat, "I knew there was something special in you."
The ropes finally, blessedly fall away, followed quickly by the surprisingly soft black and white fabric that you'd loosened earlier. Your eyes light up with an idea, scooping the shirt up and shrugging it over your own shoulders. Despite the barrier of the blindfold you can see Niragi's expression darken - he's obsessed with the idea of fucking you while wearing his shirt. And let's be honest, you both know that you look better in it.
"Fuuuck . . .," he growls, using his newly freed hands to map out every inch of your skin; imagining you completely bare for him in just his favorite shirt, his thumbs eventually finding a landing spot over your pebbled nipples. Niragi's hips unconsciously buck up into your bare, dripping folds, desperately seeking additional friction for his throbbing length.
Your head falls back with heat and desire, but again you stifle the whimper that threatens your control over the man you'd somehow successfully kidnapped and tied up. "I'm in control, or everything stops," you chastise, licking a salacious stripe up the column of his throat. If you didn't know any better, you'd think that he finally let a whimper slip from deep within his chest.
As a reward, your hands finally find the buckle of his belt, expertly yanking it off and to the concrete floor with a loud clatter. With a steadying breath, you're able to undo the button and zipper that are keeping the two of you separated, lifting your hips just enough to allow his thick, veiny cock to spring free. You can feel your core ache at the sight of it dripping and throbbing against his abs, your thumb reaching out in awe to spread pre-cum liberally over him.
"You're seriously doing this?" Niragi hisses through gritted teeth, very obviously trying to hold back from desperately thrusting into your hand, heeding your threat from earlier.
"I've always wanted to," you admit into his ear breathily, whining desperately as you tease his cock through your dripping wet folds before finally, finally, allowing yourself to sink down. The combined moans that echo around the tiny space form the most beautiful melody either of you have ever heard, one of Niragi's arms wrapping around your waist to guide your pace, and the other thumb reaching between you to expertly circle your swollen clit.
Your body melts into his chest, bare skin melding to bare skin as you ride him quickly, messily, and loudly towards the climax that's already coming far too soon. "You're a terrible dominatrix," he murmurs into your ear teasingly, pressing a wet kiss to the side of your face. This time, you can't bring yourself to disagree, far too gone in your pleasured haze to act like something you aren't.
Niragi makes good use of his strong ab muscles to compensate for his legs still being tied up, thrusting up into you faster and harder as he feels your tight heat begin to flutter. "Gonna cum already, princess? You like having me all tied up for you?" He teases, your moans and the way your hole clenches like a vice around his length all the answer he needs.
"Then cum, baby . . . cum on my cock," he coos, pressing more firmly on your clit. His hips snap up into you at a nearly inhuman pace. If not from the stimulation, then from the wet, echoing sounds of his heavy balls slapping against your tender skin, you cum hard.
"F-fuck . . . Niragiiii!" you wail, eyebrows threaded together, and lips parted in a low, guttural groan, the rhythmic pulse of your wet orgasm triggering his own. He snarls, balls tightening, emptying rope after rope of hot, white cum deep to coat your walls.
Just then, even over the sound of your heaving pants, sweaty foreheads pressed together as you come down from your highs, you hear a commotion of boots hitting the concrete and men's voices shouting in the hallway. The flimsy door to the closet bursts open, a far too familiar voice screaming your name. "Niragi, did you -" Aguni starts angrily before taking in the full scene, yelping and shielding his eyes from the unwanted view once it registers.
His baby sister, dressed only in Niragi's favorite shirt. Sitting on the dick of the man he'd warned her about time and time again.
And you? You look back at your brother, pleased with your performance. "I'm not a baby anymore," you tell him like it's a conversation over dinner, as though you aren't still sitting panting and dripping on NIragi's cock. "I can make decisions for myself. And this . . . this is my favorite decision I've ever made."
Your brother scoffs in disgust, Niragi chuckling underneath you. "Do you mind?" You ask when he remains frozen there, still shocked by the happenings. "We want to finish."
Completely stunned and speechless, Aguni blinks a few times as if trying desperately to reboot himself or wake up from some kind of nightmare. He scowls again before turning on his heel and walking out of the closet, telling the men he'd brought with him that he'd kill them all if they so much as peeked into the room.
When the door to the closet slams shut and you're once again left alone with Niragi, you blink down at him with lovesick eyes, lifting the blindfold off his head to take in his dark gaze.
"You lost the bet, Suguru. I knew I could successfully kidnap you first," you say triumphantly before finally capturing his lips in a passionate kiss.
Niragi laughs into your mouth before deepening the kiss, his arms wrapping more securely around your frame. "Fuck you're hot . . . thank fuck you're already mine. Was Aguni walking in a part of your master plan?" He asks curiously, brushing some of untamed hair out of your face.
You nod, pressing a kiss to his nose. "I decided to take a page out of Hatter's book. A power move."
A power move that will really work, because Aguni is never going to forbid you from seeing your boyfriend again.
♤ ♡ ◇ ♧
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I just need to share my thoughts somewhere bc I’m OBSESSED with this man. Imagine riding Chishiya’s thigh sooo needy 😩 and him just letting you do it ( usually he wouldn’t ) and watching you with these eyes of him? UGHHHHH I need chishiya so bad i love him
18+ MDNI / thigh riding
you’d like to think you made a convincing argument.
one even chishiya, resident smartass of The Beach and reigning king of calling you out, couldn’t logically refute.
“statistics say uv exposure spikes mid-day. you should sit in the shade if ya don’t wanna get skin cancer,” you announce, a righteous crusader of spf. “or i can… block the sun for you.”
and, for some inexplicable reason (maybe it’s the heat getting to him, maybe the irony you’re lecturing a licensed doctor about melanoma while wearing a bikini with no sun block applied), chishiya didn’t bother pointing out why “shade” apparently entails you humping his thigh. he supposes—with slight detachment—that he allowed you for the entertainment value of watching you lie about your motives in real time.
the micro-thong shifts, slick spandex sliding to the side as you manoeuvre yourself into position. the tiny gusset is wedged uncomfortably between your folds, twisted so it’s practically rubbing into your clit. swimsuit fabric doesn’t absorb—it collects—so your slick has been gathering, turning the lining into a slippery little slip’n’slide that squelches every time you do.
you start rocking your hip. not subtly at all. huffing ‘n puffing as you put yourself in a clumsy rhythm: forward, back, a quick wiggle when you accidentally hit just the right angle.
oh, those pretty peach blossom eyes of his! with that soft-focus depth, dark irises catching sunlight in a way that makes them look almost liquid, like coffee rippling when you tilt the cup. he observes you in what can only be described as naked interest. his white beach shorts (navy blue palm trees printed all over) are rumpled beneath you. and yeah, there’s a prominent tent pitching under the fabric, nudging your inner thigh each time you rock forward, but he seems completely unbothered by it.
tags: minors dni, cunnilingus (fem receiving), smut, dirty talk, face riding, perv! niragi, cum drinking, drabble
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
Your little squeaks of pleasure are muffled by your hand, eyes shut tightly as that damned piercing drags over your swollen bud. Strong hands hold your thighs open, a dark head of hair nestled between them, lapping like a man starved. Your back is pressed against the bed, with Niragi knelt next to it, your knees hooked over his shoulders as he hums softly, the noise vibrating straight through you.
A needy moan leaves you, and he can’t help the way his lips quirk up. “God, baby. You’re so sexy.” Niragi sighs, his breath fanning over your wet pussy. “Let me hear you, don’t be shy.” He croons, sipping at your hole as if he was tasting wine. “So fucking sweet,” Niragi exhales, almost dreamily.
You squeal as his tongue slides inside, curling up and licking at your velvety walls. His long tongue teases you for a second, his piercing cold compared to his organ. Slowly, he drags out of you, licking a long stripe from your hole to your clit. “Up.” He urges, moving up onto the bed with you, grabbing your hips.
Lying back, he brings you up to sit on his face, enjoying the way your clit nudges his nose as your hips desperately squirm. His tongue slides through your folds, flat against your sex as you ride his face, little noises leaving you as he services you. Niragi loved it, the way you shift and whine, as well as the way he can put his tongue to use. The man under you can’t help but groan as you cum, slurping your juices up hungrily.
You pant, sucking in shaky breaths, shivering as his hands hold your hips down on his face. “Suguru!” You gasp, whimpering as he teases your clit with his tongue piercing, hips bucking. “Stay still,” he murmurs, muffled by your pussy, “not done yet.” Niragi adds, continuing his motions. Your pussy was divine, he could do this forever, until you’re shaking and whimpering out of overstimulation. And, well… he had you here now. Why stop?
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
This fanfiction was written by VanillaLoafCake, all rights reserved. I do not consent to people reuploading my fics, feeding my work to ai, or stealing my work. If you wish to translate my work, please give credits, but getting in contact is not necessary so long as I am tagged appropriately. Thank you.
authors note: first post, just a quick drabble to get something out whilst i have works in progress. my lungs and chest feel funny, but the grind doesn’t stop. more will be posted soon, hopefully, if i don’t get sick. -vlc 🧡
+ warnings, nsfw minors dni, not proofread, discussion of sexual themes, possibly ooc, vulgar language/descriptions.
you have been warned !
+ author’s note, ong WE all cracking ryuji
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
• Ryuji would be highly caring after sex especially if it’s someone he likes
• Likely to remind you to pee to not risk catching anything
• The type to cuddle after sex, snuggling deep into your embrace (manz a yearner)
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
• On himself, his arms (self-explanatory)
• He has put so much self-discipline into himself so why wouldn’t he feel proud of them?
• On you, your eyes
• He just likes getting lost in them especially during sex
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
• He likes to cum inside
• He has a breeding kink you can’t tell me otherwise
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
• He likes when you sit on his lap esp while he’s working
• It’s comforting and again he just likes being close to you in general
• He especially likes the times when you get fidgety on his lap because of your inability to stay still
• When you rub and grind onto his grow budge way too many times, your back flush against his chest
• He has to hold your hips still so he wouldn’t blow his load in his pants
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
• I would like to think he had (1) serious relationship that lasted six months which is where he got most of his experience from
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
• Cowgirl or 69
• Though he learns towards cowgirl due to the aspect of eye contact and all
• He enjoys thigh riding and how you can get so horny that you can just get off on his thigh alone
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
• Don’t see him being goofy or completely serious
• A secret third thing that’s in between
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
• He trims his pubes but like it’s not the most important thing in his life
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
• He enjoys having your close
• The combination of both his and yours body heat just turns him on
• Also exchanging and keeping eye contact
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
• Before you, I feel like he wouldn’t jack off unless he absolutely needed to
• He’s a busy guy who puts his work first
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
• Overstimulation
• On you and himself
• He enjoys seeing how much the both of you guys can truly take before tapping out
• I’m a firm believer he likes getting choked out
• The thrill of feeling of your grip on his throat makes his cock throb and twitch every time
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
• His office
• He enjoys the thrill of getting caught at any moment
• Your shared bedroom when he really wants to take his sweet time
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
• Your openness towards him
• The fact that you have so much trust into to reveal the deepest parts of you just gets him going
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
• He would never do anything to really hurt you even on purpose
• Which means no slapping or hitting (he’s just not that kind of guy imo)
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
• A giver baby
• He gotta put those arms to good use which means forcing your thighs apart and he indulges in what your pussy has to offer
• Whether he's receiving or giving, he will be ruthless.
• You better prepare what this man has to offer
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
• Starts off slow and relaxed then ends up fast and needy
• Your hips which once rubbed back and forth slowly humping his pelvis, his hand splayed onto your breast, slim fingers toying with the bud squeezing in between his fingers which made your head lean back now bounced up and down, his hands now busy with kneading and grabbing onto your ass that was repeatedly slamming onto his pelvis. The force of it all knocks the wind out of his lungs as he groans at the roughness of it all.
• I like to imagine he moans deeply when you come on his cock, your slick warming his cock while your walls envelop and squeeze onto him
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
• Doesn’t enjoy nor indulge in them
• He likes the foreplay what can I say
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
• Would like to experience getting pegged at least once
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
• He can go the regular amount so about 1-3 rounds
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
• No
• I think he would rather make you come with his own body parts
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
• He likes to build up the sex by week long foreplay
• Whether it’s the lust-fueled neck kisses before bed
• Or whispering suggestive thoughts into your ears
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
• He grunts and groans needless to say #tbh
• He also lets out breathless moans here and then
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
• You guys have role played student and professor before
• Let’s just say those sheets were washed first thing the next day
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
• Above average
• So about 6 inches
• Also trimmed
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
• He is a YEARNER
• Sex drive isn’t really that high but once he’s had enough, he’s had enough
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
• He waits for you to fall asleep before going to bed himself
• Watching as your eyes flutter shut, your chest rising and descending slowly as your breathing becomes steady
summary: Chishiya is forced to teach a class of medical students. The class is incredibly hard but lucky for you, the professor agrees to tutor you. A dream come true if only he wasn't so distracting
warnings: smut (minors dni), swearing, pwp pretty much, reader has a fat crush on chishiya, she also seduces chishiya for a good grade lol, tension, dom!chishiya, he kinda has a thing for being called professor, dry humping, fingering and oral (fem receiving), y/n is called "good girl" once, unprotected sex + creampie
word count: 5,209
a/n: I'm just horny for Chishiya :D this shit is soooo ooc without proper buildup, but he would be such a sexy professor.
Minors...get out of here
Sakurazaka University Hospital had grown quiet, the rush of the day giving way to the low hum of machines and the occasional echo of footsteps down sterile hallways. Most doctors had already gone home. The lights in their offices had flicked off one by one, leaving only slivers of fluorescent glow through the narrow windows of doors.
But not his.
Inside, Dr. Chishiya sat hunched over his desk, sleeves pushed back, pen gliding across paperwork with unhurried precision. He should have gone home hours ago, but no doctor’s work was ever truly finished. His office smelled faintly of disinfectant and coffee, and the only sound was the soft shuffle of pages turning.
A knock interrupted the stillness.
“Come in,” he called without looking up.
“Dr. Chishiya…” a voice spoke. The voice belonged to Hikaru Nakayama, the head of administration for Sakurazaka University. The university was home to a prestigious medical school which led to many hospitals and clinics being constructed under its name all throughout Japan. Most students in their medical program ended up at their hospitals at some point during their careers—and Chishiya was one of them.
He knew what Hikaru wanted. For the past three days, he has continuously pestered Chishiya about teaching an intermediate pediatrics course on the university campus. Each and every single time he brought it up, Chishiya always responded the same.
“No.”
Hikaru blinked, clearly thrown off by the bluntness. “I- you haven’t even heard me out.”
“Do I need to?” Chishiya murmured, signing his name on the document in front of him before finally setting his pen down.
The administrator fumbled, tugging at his tie. “If you’d just consider it…there are new benefits we can offer.”
That at least earned Chishiya’s attention. His gaze lifted, sharp and assessing. “I’m listening.”
“Well…” Hikaru cleared his throat. “If you agree, you won’t need to complete your continuing medical education credits this year for your license renewal.”
Chishiya’s pen stilled against the page. That was tempting. He despised wasting hours on mandatory lectures on material he’d already mastered years ago. Slowly, he leaned back in his chair, finally regarding the man standing awkwardly in his doorway.
“You said benefits…as in plural.”
“Yes! Yes,” Hikaru stammered, quick to nod. “There’s also a pay bonus, and-” he paused for dramatic effect, though it did little to hide the anxiety written all over his face, “an extra month of paid leave.”
Chishiya let the silence hang, studying him. His smirk was faint, but there. “Email me the details.”
Hikaru nearly sagged with relief. “Of course, Doctor. Thank you for accepting! The class is r-”
“Email,” Chishiya repeated, picking up his pen again.
The administrator bobbed his head in agreement and backed out, closing the door quietly behind him. Chishiya hummed to himself, amused at the man’s dedication. Whether it was dedication or desperation was debatable, but who was he to care? He certainly wouldn’t care once he got his month of paid time off.
♤♧♡♢
Your laptop screen glared back at you, the spinning wheel taunting you with every failed click. “Oh, come on!” you groaned, slamming the heel of your palm against the trackpad.
From across the couch, your roommate didn’t even look up from her book. Ann was sprawled lazily on her side, reading glasses slipping down her nose as she flipped another page of her thick forensics text.
“What is it now, Y/N?” she asked, voice bored but teasing.
“Remember how I couldn’t register for my pediatrics class yesterday because the system crashed from ‘high volume’?” you grumbled, glaring at the error message on your screen.
“Mhm.”
“Well,” you spun the laptop toward her dramatically, “now there’s only one pediatrics course left open, and the professor isn’t even listed. How am I supposed to know what I’m getting into if I can’t look them up on RateMyProfessor?”
Ann finally looked up, blinking at your theatrics before snorting. “God, dramatic much? You’ll survive. It’s your last semester before you’re free, so look on the bright side.”
“There is no freedom,” you groaned, collapsing backward onto the couch with a throw pillow clutched to your chest. “After med school comes residency. After residency comes endless work until I die.” Your voice was muffled by the pillow, but Ann was already laughing.
You sat up again, shoving the pillow into your lap. “I just like knowing what to expect. What if I get a total jackass professor?”
Ann’s grin widened. “But what if you get a hottie? Extra motivation to study.”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, right. The chances of landing a hot professor are practically zero. I’ll probably end up with some old man who smells like chalk dust.”
♤♧♡♢
Sakurazaka University’s lecture hall was louder than usual that morning. Dozens of students crammed into narrow rows, the smell of coffee and cheap convenience-store pastries heavy in the air. The chatter was chaotic with some people nervously flipping through textbooks, others laughing about weekend plans, and you, chewing the inside of your cheek as you refreshed the digital syllabus on your laptop for what felt like the fifteenth time.
The door creaked open.
Silence spread across the room almost instantly, as though the air itself had been held down. A man walked in, his steps unhurried, his presence cold and composed.
Definitely not an old man.
He was younger and far more handsome than you expected. No gray hair, no tired posture of an overworked professor. Instead, a sharp figure in a loose white coat, blond hair falling neatly around his face, dark eyes narrowing with disinterest. He carried no bag, no stack of notes. Just a slim folder, which he placed on the desk with a quiet thunk.
“I’m Dr. Chishiya.” His voice cut through the stillness. It was smooth, low, and effortlessly commanding. “This is Pediatrics 302. Read the syllabus. Don’t waste my time asking questions already answered in it.”
That was it. No warm greeting, no introduction, not even a smile.
Around you, students exchanged wide-eyed looks, some stifling laughter at his bluntness, others already scribbling nervously in their notebooks. You sat up straighter, studying him more closely. His gaze skimmed the room—detached yet sharp—as though he could already tell who would pass, who would fail, and who wasn’t worth his time.
You were in for one hell of a semester.
♤♧♡♢
The lecture hall was quieter than usual, the low hum of ventilation and the occasional shuffle of papers were the only sounds breaking the stillness. It was only the second week and people were already dropping like flies. Whether it was the boring material or the professor who clearly didn't want to be there, people didn't bother attending any more lectures.
You settled into your usual spot near the back, notebook open but mostly untouched. The lecture had already started, Chishiya moving at the front with his usual calm, detached air. You told yourself you were paying attention, but your eyes kept drifting.
At first, it was casual—a glance at how he adjusted the papers on the desk, the neat flick of his pen as he underlined a point, the slight arch of his brow when a student asked a question. There was something…deliberate in the way he moved, almost measured, as if every gesture had been planned, precise and controlled.
You caught your heart speeding up, your chest tightening in a way that felt foreign. It’s just…how he moves, you tried to reason. Focus on the lecture.
But your eyes kept returning to him. His presence constantly pulled you back in each time you shifted your attention back to the textbook. The tilt of his head as he listened to a question, the way the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly when he considered an answer, the sharpness in his dark eyes as they scanned the room. Each detail pulled your attention further in. You realized, slowly, that your mind wasn’t on pediatrics at all. It was on Chishiya.
A small chuckle escaped him as a student gave an impractical response to his question, yet you caught it. It was quiet, controlled, yet somehow teasing. Your stomach fluttered. You were fixated by his lectures but not just by the material. You felt a heat rising in your cheeks and cursed yourself silently for thinking about him like that.
You told yourself it was harmless. You weren’t doing anything wrong. You were just observing, noting his mannerisms to memorize them and get on his good side. But when he glanced up, and your eyes met, a jolt ran through you. His gaze was sharp, unwavering, and suddenly it felt too personal.
“You’re staring,” he said, voice low, almost amused, cutting through the lecture hall like a knife. How could he just announce that to the entire class?
Your stomach dropped. “I-I was just…listening,” you stammered, heat flooding your face.
“Listening, huh?” His lips twitched into a faint smirk, corners tugging just slightly, the kind that made your chest tighten.
You swallowed, suddenly acutely aware of how your fingers clenched your pen, how your knees were pressed together tighter than usual. "Yes, I was listening to what you were saying. I wasn't staring-"
“You were,” he said smoothly, voice calm but with that undercurrent of knowing. “If you're too far away, you will never catch the important details but if you look too closely, you will miss the big picture. Don't get too caught up looking at me when the information lies in the text."
Something in the way he spoke, detached yet teasing, sent an electric thrill down your spine. You couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop your heart from racing. Every word, every motion, every glance he gave you felt like it was meant to pull you closer, to make you notice him more.
By the time the lecture ended, your mind had shifted entirely. You were no longer thinking about exams or syllabus points. You were thinking about him. The way he stood, the sound of his voice, the faint smirk that seemed to linger in your thoughts even after he had turned to collect his materials.
You packed up slowly, trying to keep your composure, but your eyes found him again, and he noticed. That faint, deliberate glance he gave you as you left the room made your stomach flutter and your pulse spike. He had seen you. He had seen the way you couldn’t stop staring. And somehow, that made your infatuation feel both thrilling and terrifying all at once.
♤♧♡♢
The “56%” at the top of your test might as well have been a death sentence. The red ink burned against the white page, your pulse pounding in your ears. You swallowed hard, skimming the corrections, but your eyes snagged at the bottom: See me after class.
Your stomach twisted.
You lingered as the lecture hall emptied, the scrape of chairs and shuffle of feet fading until it was just you and Chishiya. He sat at the front desk, chair reclined, pen in hand, flipping idly through papers. His posture screamed nonchalance, but his presence filled the room.
You stepped forward, clutching the exam in sweaty hands. “So…” you tried to laugh, though it came out shaky, “I guess I failed.”
“Observation skills intact,” he murmured without looking up, tapping his pen against your test. “You did fail. Lack of knowledge, lack of preparation, and lack of care led you to receive that grade.”
Heat rushed to your cheeks. You wanted to disappear, but his voice was steady and detached, rooting you to the spot. He finally glanced up, his gaze settling on you with clinical precision.
“Teach me then,” you blurted out.
His pen paused. He looked up slowly, eyes narrowing at you, dark and calculating. “Teach you?” His voice was even, almost bored, but there was a flicker there. A small spark of curiosity.
“Yeah,” you said, forcing a small, nervous giggle. “You can teach me how to earn an A, Professor."
You finally let your eyes meet his, licking your lips nervously under his gaze. You noticed the way his pupils flickered in response. There was a subtle shift from your eyes to your lips, then down to your chest. A heat rushed to your cheeks.
“See something you like, professor?” you teased lightly, testing him, biting the inside of your lip to hide your sudden nervousness. Without thinking, you reached for the buttons of your blouse, unfastening the top one, then the next. The air between you seemed to thrum, heavy with tension.
A shiver ran down your spine as you met his eyes again, searching for approval, anticipation curling in your stomach. And then—like a grip on reality—he leaned back just slightly, the faintest sharp intake of breath, his voice cutting through the charged quiet.
“Ahem.”
Your fingers froze mid-button, heat and panic flooding through you. Chishiya’s eyes snapped back to yours fully, precise and cold, but unmistakably on the edge of control. “I think it would be best to focus on the exam material rather than… whatever ‘extra credit’ you were thinking of.”
Your entire body filled with embarrassment.. “I-I’m so sorry,” you stammered, fumbling to button yourself back up. “I thought you… I thought you knew where I was going with that.”
“I did know.” He cut you off, tone cool but edged with amusement. “I just didn’t think you’d start undressing here and now. Regardless of time or place, it would not be appropriate for a student and teacher to engage in sexual activities.”
“I apologize for trying to get a better grade in an inappropriate way. I know that it could’ve very easily put your job at risk as well as my education,” you immediately bowed your head apologetically. How were you going to get out of this mess now?
“Mmm, it’s not that. I’m technically not employed by the school, so I can really do whatever I wish,” he replied simply.
“So I'm not hot enough??” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. Your hands flew to your mouth at your vulgar language. Not that professionalism was relevant anymore considering you practically stripped in front of him.
“I never said that. As attractive as you are, not everyone can be easily bribed with sex,” he stated.
“Y-You think I’m…attractive?”
“Mmm, forget I said anything,” Chishiya mumbled before he scribbled something on a notepad, sliding the paper toward you.
“This is the counselor’s office. Switch out before you waste any more time failing this course.”
“I can’t,” you shot back instantly, your voice louder than you intended. He raised an eyebrow, yet remained unbothered. “This is the only pediatrics class left. I graduate at the end of this semester. I have to take it.”
“Then do better,” he said simply, already turning back to his papers.
You clenched your fists. “You’re impossible.”
“You’re unprepared.” His tone didn’t waver, but when his eyes flicked up, there was a challenge there. And that was when the idea hit you.
“Fine. If you tutor me and I fail the next exam, I’ll drop the class.”
He tilted his head slightly, studying you as if calculating the probability of your failure. “Mmm. Promising, considering your last score.”
“Oh shut up.” You crossed your arms. “But if I pass, you have to keep tutoring me for the rest of the semester.”
The smirk returned, faint but undeniable. “Fine.”
♤♧♡♢
The library was almost eerily quiet that evening. Golden pools of light spilled from tall lamps across polished wooden tables, casting long shadows between the towering shelves. The smell of old books mingled with the faint aroma of coffee from the small café in the corner. Every footstep you took felt loud against the dark hardwood floors.
You spotted him immediately. Chishiya sat at a corner table, loose white coat draped over the chair, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His posture was perfect. He was relaxed yet confident, just enough lean to suggest the right amount of disinterest. As you approached, his eyes tracked your every movement. Pen in hand, he flipped a page in his textbook slowly, deliberately, as if waiting for you to arrive.
“You’re late,” he said finally, not looking up, voice smooth but carrying that unmistakable edge that made you tense.
“Yeah by two minutes,” you muttered, sliding into the chair across from him, trying to act casual.
He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he let the silence stretch, eyes finally lifting to appraise you. The corner of his mouth quirked, just slightly. “Two minutes is enough time for a patient to die,” he said. Voice flat and cool. And somehow incredibly challenging.
You rolled your eyes but felt your stomach tighten. Sitting there, across from him, you were hyper-aware of his presence. The faint scent of antiseptics, the way his hair fell over his forehead, the subtle lean of his body toward the desk—just enough to make you feel watched.
He pulled out your test from the last session, flipping it open. “Let’s start with what you got wrong. Why did you miss these questions?”
You explained, careful, your voice steady but betraying slight nerves. He listened, head tilted, eyes narrowing occasionally as if measuring each word, judging each thought. “Incorrect,” he said sharply at one point, and you flinched. “Try again. Think clinically. Observation is key.”
Minutes passed, tension building. You reached for your pen, fingers brushing against his as you moved, and you caught his eye. A flicker passed over his face—subtle, almost imperceptible—before he returned to your notes. Your hand lingered, heat pooling in your chest at the slight contact.
“Focus,” Chishiya said softly, voice low, almost a whisper. Yet the way he said it made the word dangerous, demanding. Surely he knew what he did to you.
You swallowed and refocused, but the tension remained, thick and unrelenting. His instructions were sharp, clipped, yet there were moments where he leaned slightly closer to point at your notes, his proximity sending a jolt through you. Every deliberate movement carried weight. Whether it was his hand brushing your wrist or his knee bumping into yours, it sent shivers down your spine.
When you faltered, he didn’t scold. Instead, he tilted his head, gaze piercing, lips twitching faintly. “Not enough attention to detail,” he murmured, voice low, almost teasing. “Try again.”
You met his stare, cheeks warming. “I’m trying,” you admitted, voice firmer this time.
“Then think harder.” His tone was neutral, almost bored, yet every word carried the unmistakable authority that made your pulse quicken.
These private lessons were turning into torture sessions by the second.
♤♧♡♢
Weeks later, the midterm exam results slid across the desk toward you. Your fingers trembled as you lifted it. Eyes scanning and heart hammering, your breath caught at the top in bold: 90%.
A wave of relief, disbelief, and pride flooded you all at once. You glanced up at Chishiya, desperate for reaction, for any sign that he cared.
He was still calm, composed, almost unreadable, yet the faint twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed something. He moved down the row, indifferent yet precise, flipping through another student’s test.
After class, you waited to the side, the echo of footsteps fading until it was just the two of you. “So… I passed,” you said, testing the words as if they might disappear in the air.
He didn’t smile. Not quite. “Mmm. With such a great teacher, it's hard not to,” he said, his tone clipped, detached.
“Don’t be smug,” you countered, stepping a little closer, heart thudding. “You’re stuck with me now.”
He finally tilted his head, gaze sharp, analyzing. “Unfortunate.” His words were dry and controlled—yet there was something in the way his eyes lingered on you. There was a spark, a flicker of amusement that made your stomach twist.
You squared your shoulders. “I’m not going to fail again,” you said, more firmly. “So, what now? More tutoring?”
He considered, leaning back slightly, fingers drumming the edge of a folder. “If you want to survive this semester, yes. But you will follow my instructions precisely. Deviate, and you fail. No excuses.”
“Deal,” you said, a smirk tugging at your lips despite your nerves.
♤♧♡♢
You walked out of the lecture hall, exam in hand, the bold “90%” still fresh in your mind. Relief, pride, and exhaustion mingled together and your steps began to feel lighter than usual.
But even as you passed the empty hallways, your thoughts refused to stay on your test results. They kept drifting back to Chishiya. The way he had leaned back in his chair, calm and calculating, yet somehow impossibly commanding. The sharp glint in his eyes when he caught your gaze. The subtle smirk at the corner of his lips, the way his hand had hovered over his pen with deliberate precision.
You felt a heat in your chest and a flutter in your stomach that had nothing to do with relief at passing. In the quiet of your thoughts, your mind wandered to…other possibilities. The way his touch might feel, the dangerous thrill of what it would be like to test his control, to see how far he’d let you push. You caught yourself blushing, biting your lip, and shaking your head at just how distracting he had become.
A small and guilty laugh escaped you as you shook the thoughts away, telling yourself to focus—to breathe. But you knew deep down that the next time you saw him, it wouldn’t be just about pediatrics anymore.
Even as you walked back to your apartment, every movement, every glance over your shoulder, was colored by the memory of him. Your pulse quickened, your imagination refused to be tamed, and a thrill of anticipation settled in your chest like a fire just waiting to be ignited.
You couldn't wait to see what he would teach you next.
♤♧♡♢
Lucky for you, Chishiya invited you over to his house for today's study session. This meant you could finally be alone with him without wandering eyes, but it also left much uncertainty for how you would act.
Chishiya’s office was dimly lit, the small desk lamp casting warm shadows over stacks of neatly organized files. He sat with sleeves rolled up, pen scratching against paper. The faint smell of coffee hung in the air.
“You’re late,” he said, “Typical, but you’d think you would be on time for once.”
“Got stuck in traffic,” you responded, hoping that would be a sufficient excuse.
“Hmm,” he contemplated lecturing you again but decided against it. “Let’s get started with what time we have left for today.”
You slid your notebook onto the desk, flipping it open and trying to force your mind into focus. Words swam before your eyes as you scribbled notes, but every time you looked up, you caught him glancing your way. Not overtly, not in a way that felt threatening, but in that deliberate, assessing way he had. His sharp eyes scan your movement, reading you as easily as a patient chart.
The faint scent of antiseptics from the hospital clung to him, mixing with something musky, subtle, intoxicating—and you could feel it seeping into your skin, curling around your senses. You tried to breathe through it, tried to make yourself concentrate on the equations and clinical notes before you, but your hands trembled slightly as you reached for your pen.
His posture was impossible to ignore. Relaxed, controlled, yet every slight lean forward, every casual adjustment of his sleeves seemed purposeful, precise. It was the kind of movement that demanded attention whether you wanted it or not. You found your eyes flicking to the line of his jaw, the curve of his neck, the veins on his arms and cursed yourself silently. Focus, Y/N. Focus on the material.
But the words on the page blurred again, your pen hovering in indecision. You could feel heat pooling low in your stomach, your pulse quickening at every subtle shift he made. His gaze met yours briefly, just a flick, and your chest tightened. You tried to shake your thoughts—focusing on clinical reasoning or patient symptoms—but your mind betrayed you, tracing imagined scenarios where his proximity wasn’t just about tutoring.
A quiet exhale escaped him and you jerked slightly. You looked down, scribbling a note that made no sense. Nothing you wrote seemed coherent, nothing in your mind could focus. The notebook in front of you became a blur of meaningless lines.
Finally, Chishiya’s voice cut through the haze, low and even but threaded with something else, something that made your skin prickle and your breath hitch.
"Y/N, I need you to focus," he murmurs, but there's a hint of something more in his tone.
"You're the one distracting me," you whisper back, your voice barely audible. “This material is so dense…”
There was a moment of silence before you finally made your move.
“I wish you were teaching me something else.”
A faint and knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “That is a dangerous thing you’re suggesting,” he said finally, voice low and even.
Your heartbeat quickened. “Then stop me,” you challenged softly, leaning just slightly closer, daring him.
He tilted his head, silent for a long moment, and in that pause, your pulse pounded in your ears. The tension had built so high it felt like it might snap. You could almost imagine what might happen next. The heat of proximity, the brush of fingers, the taste of lips.
His eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think he might pull away. But instead, he leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, yet desperate kiss. It's electric, sending shivers down your spine. You respond eagerly, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair as you deepen the kiss.
Chishiya's hands roam over your body, exploring every curve. You can feel his desire growing, matching your own. He pulls you onto his lap and you straddle him. You immediately feel his growing length press against your heat, causing a loud whine to leave your mouth. You start grinding against him as you both moan into each other's mouths. The pleasure starts to build up deep within your core.
"Is this what you wanted, Y/N?" he growls, his voice laced with dominance. "To seduce your professor? To have me teach you what it feels like to be fucked right?"
"Yes," you gasp, your hips moving in rhythm with his upward thrusts. "I want you, Chishiya. I need you."
He stands up quickly, lifting you effortlessly, and carries you through the hallway to his bedroom. He lays you down gently on his bed, his body covering yours. His hands trail down your sides, lifting your shirt and exposing your skin to his touch. You arch into him, craving more.
“A-Ah Chishiya! Please touch me,” you whine out. His touch was cold and calculated yet it did nothing but warm your entire body and send shivers of pleasure from head to toe.
Chishiya's mouth finds your neck, kissing and nibbling as his hands explore lower, unbuttoning your pants and slipping his fingers inside. You gasp as his fingers find your wetness, stroking and teasing. He scoops some of your slick up towards your clit and circles around it before he slides a finger inside your hole. He curls his finger deep within you, making you shudder in pleasure. He adds a second finger and continues moving in and out in a rhythm that has you panting and begging for more.
"You're so wet for me," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "So ready for my cock, isn’t that right?”
All that leaves your mouth is a high pitched moan as his fingers reach deeper than before, curling and caressing your most sensitive spot.
“Be a good girl and respond when your professor asks you a question,” Chishiya orders. He starts kissing down your neck, sucking and leaving markings along your collarbone and chest.
“O-Oh god! Yes, Chishiya! Need your cock so bad, I wanna feel you inside~”
He moves lower, his mouth trailing kisses down to your stomach as he pulls off your pants and underwear. You're completely exposed to him, and the look in his eyes is one of pure hunger. He spreads your legs wide, his tongue diving in to taste you.
“Gotta make sure your cunt is ready for me,” he groans into your pussy. The vibrations from his words make your back arch off of the mattress and tangle your hands in his hair. Your legs threaten to close around him, but he pushes them open with his hands, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs.
You cry out as he continues, your hips bucking against his face as he licks and sucks, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He circles your clit with his tongue, applying just the right amount of pressure to send you spiraling. Just as you're about to cum, he pulls back, a wicked smile on his face.
"Not yet," he says, standing up and unbuttoning his own pants. "I want to feel your pretty pussy cum around me when you do."
He positions himself at your entrance, his eyes locked on yours, asking for permission to enter. You nod your head for him to continue and with one powerful thrust, he's inside you. He moves his entire length inside, filling you completely. You both moan, your bodies reacting to each other in perfect sync. He starts to move, slow and deep, driving you wild with each stroke.
"Chishiya," you cry out, your nails digging into his back. "P-Please, I need more—faster!" You can feel the way his cock twitches at your pleas, making you clench harder down around him.
He lets out a deep groan and obliges, his pace quickening, his hips slamming against yours. The room fills with the sound of your pleasure, your moans and gasps echoing off the walls. You can feel the tension building, your body coiled tight and ready to explode.
"Chishiya! I'm so close—fuck!" you moan.
"Cum for me, Y/N," Chishiya commands, his voice a low growl. "Let me feel you cum around my cock. Show me how badly you've wanted this."
His words push you over the edge, and you shatter, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash over you. "Mmm fuck Chishiya! Oh my god—ahhh feels so good!"
"Ah fuck, Y/N. You're clenching around me so tight. I'm gonna cum—Gonna fill you up, okay?" He groaned into your ear, hot breath fanning against your cheek. You nod frantically at his words before his seed spills into you and he collapses on top of you.
He rolls off you, pulling you into his arms as you both come down from the high. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, a contented smile on your face. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, sending shivers of aftershock pleasure through you.
"So you finally got what you wanted since day one, huh?" he asks, his voice soft and teasing.
“You know, I only got to where I am right now because my professor agreed to teach me.”
