#eli x reader

Eli

Flirting Style: Smooth, attentive, and giving

Gives you the quiet eye contact and sweet half-smile that melts panties

Lowkey flexes how good he is with kids (“Yenna made you a drawing… I helped her, but don’t tell her I said that”)

Will say “you’re beautiful” once, then act like it was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing because

His love language is offering you food and asking how your day was with full attention and active listening.

Protective but not overbearing. Will bodyblock a falling shelf and act like it’s just another Tuesday.

Bonus: If you touch his arm while laughing? Play with his hair? Be a good presence in Yenna’s life? Game over. He’s yours.

Gun

Flirting Style: Intense eye contact and threats that sound like proposals

“I don’t need a partner. I need someone who can keep up.” (Translation: I want you.)

Doesn’t smile, but you know when he’s into you because he starts looking at you like you’re prey, and HE IS STARVING.

Gifts you things that don’t feel romantic… until you realize no one else gets them. Like a new phone. Or a whole ass penthouse (to act grown in).

“You need discipline” - he’ll say after fixing your form at the gym, his hands lingering longer than necessary.

Bonus: He purposely loses at video games he’s previously beaten. Not because he can’t win, but because your grin when you win is more satisfying than victory.

Goo

Flirting Style: Chaos and catcalling, but make it charming

Will call you every nickname in the book. “Sugar tits,” “baby shark,”or “wifey” - he’s def testing which one makes you react.

Pulls pranks just to hear you laugh… or scream. Either works for him.

Gets jealous easily but pretends it’s a joke (“Oh, he looked at you? I’ll murder him, Y/N. kidding! Unless…”)

If he’s quiet for longer than 10 seconds around you, it means he’s either in love or planning something stupid. Or both.

Bonus: He’ll flirt with everyone to throw you off. But only you get the soft, sleepy Goo voice at 3AM.

James Lee / Diego Kang

Flirting Style: Elegant, detached… until you touch him.

Doesn’t flirt traditionally. He just shows up, stares at you from across the room, and somehow leaves you breathless. (Not too far from canon lol)

Compliments feel like confessions: “You’re a distraction. And I hate distractions. But I keep looking at you.”

Will not initiate physical touch, but if you do? He’s not letting go for anything.

Dangerously polite. Opens doors, holds your coat, corrects your form at the private gym he booked for just the two of you. You’ll think he’s just being nice until he says something like - “I dreamt about you...again”

Bonus: One kiss and he starts spiraling privately. He’ll still act cool. He’s not lol

Ryuhei Kuroda

Flirting Style: Bully-to-lover with unhinged fixation energy

Constantly bothers you. Flicks your hair. Steals your pen. Won’t stop poking your buttons.

“Dumbass. You’re too cute when you’re mad.”

Treats you like a game until the moment someone else flirts with you, then it’s not a game anymore.

You get under his skin in ways he hates. And craves. He’d rather eat nails than admit he’s blushing.

Bonus: He’ll fake-disgusted moan if you touch him - “Ew, you’re touching me? Are we dating now or something?” (he hopes yes)

Hudson

Flirting Style: Gentle loyalty with hints of angst

He watches you with sharp eyes but speaks softly. He doesn’t talk much but when he does, it’s only to you. He also never brings up his street life because he thinks it’ll ruin how you see him (it won’t lol)

“Need anything?” - sounds sooo casual, but it means he’s already halfway to solving your problems before you finish answering.

The kind to memorize your favorite snacks, the exact way you like your tea, your allergies. Acts like it’s no big deal. (He gives your snack choices +100 points even if he doesn’t like them)

Protective as hell. If you so much as stub your toe, he’s ready to declare war on gravity.

Bonus: When he finally touches you, it’s hesitant and reverent—like you’re sacred. His ears might go red.

Blood streaks along his cheekbone, a dark crimson contrast against his pale skin, and bruises are blossoming over his jaw and temple. His knuckles are raw, skin split, his shirt clinging to his chest in patches—whether from sweat or blood, you can’t quite tell in the dim light. His stance is unsteady as he steps inside, but his eyes? Those are soft. Warm. Familiar. They meet yours, and there's an unspoken reassurance in them.

"I'm okay," he murmurs before you even have the chance to ask, his voice low and gravelly. "Just… needed a second."

You open your mouth, but before you can speak, he places a finger gently against his lips, silencing you. He tilts his head toward the hallway.

"Lemme check on her first."

You watch as he moves down the corridor, the slow, purposeful rhythm of his steps echoing in the stillness of the house. A minute later, you hear the soft creak of Yenna’s door. Eli’s in there for longer than usual—longer than you expect. But you know. You know he’s just watching her, making sure her little chest rises and falls with each breath, tucking her hair behind her ear, maybe even brushing a soft kiss to her forehead. It's what he always does, no matter how battered he is. His love for her is a quiet, unwavering thing.

When he finally steps out of her room and closes the door behind him, there's something different in his eyes.

His gaze is darker now. Hungrier. It's like he’s shedding the weight of his day’s fight, his bruises, his pain, and replacing it with something more primal. More urgent.

When his eyes find yours again, you know exactly what’s coming.

The breath catches in your throat as Eli turns toward you, his lips curling into something that is half smirk, half promise. You know it. You know how this goes. His presence fills the room like a force you can’t escape, and before you can even respond, he’s on you.

You try to be quiet. God, you really do.

But it’s hard when Eli’s got you bent over the edge of the bed, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your hip so tightly it feels like he’s branding you. The position he has you in leaves you vulnerable, exposed, and all you can do is brace yourself for what comes next. The first thrust hits hard, deep, relentless. The kind that makes your breath hitch in your throat and your body arch instinctively. The kind of thrust that leaves no room for anything but him.

You’re not sure what you expected, but you certainly weren’t prepared for this.

The bed creaks under you with each powerful movement, your hands gripping the sheets so tight your knuckles turn white. Your forehead presses to the mattress as Eli pulls you back against him, his cock filling you so perfectly, so completely, you can’t do anything but take it. He fucks into you from behind like he’s been starved for this moment, every movement an attack on your senses.

His voice rumbles in your ear, low and rough, just before another deep thrust knocks the air from your lungs.

“Been thinkin’ about this all day,” he mutters, breath hot against your skin.

You barely get the chance to respond before his rhythm picks up. Fast, hard, each thrust pushing you further into the bed, deeper into the world of him. The moan that slips from your lips is involuntary, your body betraying you as Eli drives into you with a force that makes your head spin. The sweet burn between your legs has you trembling, your thighs slick with arousal as he doesn’t stop.

You try to stay in control, to stay quiet—but the sounds of his movements, the wet slap of skin against skin, the way he makes you feel like you’re about to break, is too much. You can’t contain it.

A tiny creak. The faintest crackle from the baby monitor next to the bed. Yenna’s restless shifting. Your heart skips a beat, and your entire body tenses.

“Eli…” Your voice is a breathless whisper, panic bubbling in your chest.

But he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even hesitate.

His hand moves swiftly from your hair to your mouth, covering it with firm precision. The pressure of his palm makes your breath hitch, and the noise you try to stifle is nothing more than a muffled gasp. He pulls you up against him, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as he growls against your ear.

“She’s fine,” he breathes, voice strained with restraint. “You’re not.”

And then he slams into you again.

You choke on your moan, the sound swallowed by his hand as he continues, relentless. His grip on your hip tightens, nails digging into your skin, but it’s the way he moves that really has you shaking. He doesn’t slow down, even as your knees begin to buckle. His arm around your waist is like iron, holding you steady while he fucks you like he’s trying to claim you.

“Told you to be quiet,” he mutters, voice rough with frustration and desire. “Thought you said you could keep it down.”

Every word out of his mouth is a command. Every thrust is a challenge.

And you can’t stop. Can’t even think straight. You don’t know how much longer you can hold it together when he’s pounding into you like this. His movements slow just slightly, but each one feels like it’s carved into your very soul. Every inch of him dragging along your insides has you gasping, legs shaking, and you know you’re not going to last long.

“Let me hear you, baby,” Eli murmurs, leaning in to press his lips to your temple. “But keep it quiet, yeah?”

You can’t help it. You come undone beneath him, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that has your entire body trembling. You bite down on his hand to keep your cries muffled, but it’s no use. He feels it. He feels every shudder, every flutter of your walls tightening around him, and it drives him wild.

“Fuck,” he growls, and his pace falters just long enough for him to release into you with a low groan. His hips stutter as he comes, and the sensation of him filling you sends a fresh wave of heat through your veins. His chest heaves against your back, breath ragged.

For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of both your breathing, the gentle whir of the baby monitor, and the steady thud of your hearts. He slowly pulls out of you, easing you back down onto the bed with the gentleness that only Eli has, even in moments like this.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice soft, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he tucks some stray hair behind your ear.

You nod, too breathless to speak, but the contented smile that pulls at your lips says enough.

“Be right back,” he murmurs, his voice tender. “Gonna clean you up.”

You can’t find the words to respond before he’s slipping into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a warm towel. His touch is gentle as he wipes between your legs, tender with his aftercare, kissing the bruises on your hips, massaging your thighs until the ache starts to fade.

When he finally lays down beside you, pulling you close into his chest, you let yourself relax. You melt against him, safe and satisfied.

You were in a relationship when you got pregnant. You thought that you found true love at a young age, surrendering yourself to the naivety of romance only to find out that your then-boyfriend didn’t feel the same way. And so when you told him you got pregnant, he left your life almost immediately.

Despite that, even with the anxiety that wreaked havoc in your bones, you confessed to your parents that you were carrying life inside of you. When they asked you if you wanted to keep it, you said yes. They weren’t exactly the happiest—after all, they wanted you to continue enjoying life without any additional responsibilities, one that required a lifelong effort to do.

But they respected you, helped you even in raising the child. You were nothing but lucky to have the support of your parents and you didn’t want to take that for granted.

When your daughter grew and you did your best fulfilling duties in life, you thought that maybe it was time to enroll her in daycare.

Your little girl had befriended another kid at the daycare, Yenna, and a beautiful friendship had started to blossom between the two of them. You could see how the two of them had gotten along flawlessly, as if they were made to be best friends at such a young age—sharing toys and even snacks.

When you had fetched your daughter, you saw him.

With a sudden burst of confidence, you approached him. “You must be Yenna’s father!” you say excitingly, which startles the poor man. You mumbled a small apology before giving him a slightly nervous smile. “It’s nice to meet you,” you say, a lot more considerate of his feelings this time as you introduce yourself, offering a hand for him to shake.

On the other hand, Eli is stunned because he hasn’t really had the time to meet the other parents here or to be seen by several pairs of judging eyes. He had often preferred to take Yenna home a little later than usual, when he knows that he won’t be judged for being a father at such a young age.

That was also the plan today, but at the sight of you, Eli couldn’t help but stop for a bit.

He also introduces himself.

Eli Jang, he says. “You must be her mom,” he starts the conversation, attempting to respond to you confidently, but his timidness takes over and you can’t help but chuckle.

It was adorable, you think.

“Yenna really likes hanging around with your daughter,” he adds, hoping to continue the conversation with you as he held Yenna in his arms.

He was a lot taller than you so he cranes his neck downwards to look at you. There, Eli can’t help but notice your soft features, his own eyes softening as he recognized the hints of tiredness etched in some of the edges of your visage. Parenthood, he thinks.

Eli can relate because he knows how hard it is to raise a child especially when he knew you both became parents at a young age.

Hard is an understatement. He remembers how his nights were composed of an infant’s wails, not knowing how to calm a newborn Yenna down because nobody was there to help him. He took all the steps on his own, though eventually when Hostel got together again, Warren, Sally, along with the others, had helped him raise Yenna.

It’s easier now, but it never really is.

You nod enthusiastically, liking how he’s striking up a conversation with you. You didn’t really like some of the mothers in this daycare—only a few had given you advice in navigating the life of a parent. “They’re always glued together, right? It makes me happy that they’re both having fun together,” you share, holding your daughter’s hand as she giggles at the sight of Yenna being carried.

“I was actually worried that she wouldn’t make a friend,” you add with a nervous chuckle. “But seeing how she and Yenna interacts, it makes me happy.”

There, Eli finds a comforting presence in you, his mouth deciding to move on its own before his brain can even process what he was doing.

But it was welcomed—you were a welcomed presence.

And so after that day, you and Eli had gotten closer. Both of you no longer feared of being judged by the other parents in the daycare because what was the point? You both had each other to confide in—to rely on.

It came to a point where he introduced you to the people at Hostel, where they welcomed you happily—lowkey teasing Eli at how you noticed they were pushing the two of you together, which made him blush as red as a tomato.

It also came to a point that you had introduced him to your parents, who were elated that you had found a friend in Eli—they didn’t really believe that the two of you were just friends. They both see how you look at each other, though they don’t really tell you.

Feelings eventually come into play, and Eli realizes that he had fallen for you.

The last time he had felt love was with Heather. You made him feel loved, accepted, cared for and understood. You knew of his past and didn’t judge him—asked simple questions to get even more clarity, but after that, you still treated him the same. A simple take care made his heart race, how you remind him that he needs to come home safely because it’s not just Yenna and Hostel waiting for him, but you and your daughter too.

It makes his throat dry, has his stomach feeling like it was a mess from how anxious he was feeling.

Was he ready for this again? Were you ready for this again?

He knew of your failed love life too, but were you really willing to risk it again?

For him, of all people?

“Do you want to try?”

He turns his head at your question at such a pace that you were afraid that he was going to get whiplash. The gesture makes you laugh and the sound makes the tips of Eli’s ears become red—he thinks it’s a little silly that a simple thing could make him flustered, then again, you did laugh because of him.

A win is a win, right?

“What?” he asks, finally speaking. His voice almost cracks, in disbelief that you asked the question in the first place. “Try what?” he queries again, though he knows what you mean—you know that he knows.

But you let it pass because you know how nervous he gets.

“Try dating again,” you shrug as if it’s not a big deal—it is.

Eli thinks that it’s not a bad idea. And while there is a tiny, evil voice in the back of his head that says he’ll only get you in trouble—that he’ll only bring you misfortune because of the life he lives—but a bigger part of him knows that he deserves this.

That he deserves you.

That he deserves to feel that type of affection from someone who he knows that will stay by his side—who loves him wholeheartedly. He thinks about Heather and his initial hesitance about wanting to date again because he truly did love his bereaved ex, but Eli also knows that Heather would be elated that he had found another one to love.

You knew he had so much love to give, and so you want to experience that yourself.

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” he says quietly, looking at you.

“Yeah?’ you ask, chuckling, reaching out to hold his large hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

“I think so too,” you add, resting your head on his shoulder as the two of you watch Yenna and your daughter play with the other family members of Hostel.

It affected you in a way that left your mind distant throughout the day, but deep down, you understood. He was tired, and though he was in the wrong, his sleepless nights without you and his swollen eyes as he watched you leave each morning made it clear—he knew he had hurt you.

Knowing Eli, he would be brooding over it, silently reprimanding himself while figuring out how to reconnect with you and make things right.

"Come closer," you whispered, foam already covering his tiny beard. Under normal circumstances, he would have kissed you, making a mess. You appreciated how, despite complications, you never neglected each other. You loved him too much to go long without touching him, and he felt the same.

…

Despite the thoughtless and cruel words from the night before, he still came to pick you up from work, waiting outside with a cigarette as usual, and kept your favorite songs playing even after you got into the car without giving him your usual long, lingering hug. He stayed silent, his hand brushing over his eyes during the drive, and you’d have been foolish not to notice him struggling to keep them from misting over.

You didn’t fight often, but you had been together a long time, so this wasn’t the first. As you gazed out the window, you placed your hand on his, intertwining your fingers, listening to him sniff softly—so discreet and embarrassed that, if not for the years, you might have missed it. His rings against your skin were comforting, so familiar.

He squeezed your thigh affectionately; his fingers were cold, but yours quickly warmed them. As you gently stroked the short hair on his arm, he felt foolish—both for what he’d done and for still not knowing what to say or how to say it. You weren’t angry with him, not at all, but you didn’t like the way it felt.

…

He took a deep breath, settling between your legs, which quickly wrapped around his waist. His long fingers grazed the hem of your shirt (which, by the way it hung to your thighs, was clearly his), gradually stealing the warmth from your hips into his palms. You smiled softly as his eyes met yours; at times, he felt like he didn't deserve you. You could feel his breath close as you wet the blade and steadied his face with your hand. It felt good to have him near, even with the tension still lingering in the air between you.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” you asked, continuing to remove the excess before resuming the grooming process you loved so much. Eli was never very patient with his beard; whenever he had to do it himself, it usually ended with intense itching and irritated, red skin. You never failed to take good care of him, and he appreciated it deeply. It didn’t usually grow too thick, but it bothered him, and you were so good at handling it.

“Like what, darlin’?” His voice was velvety yet cautious. His eyes sparkled at you with a faint smile, freckles prominent, as if pleading for kisses. Realizing it had been a while since you’d heard him, your body tingled. You tightened around him, wanting him close as if he could heal the pounding in your head. You wanted to say everything was fine, but you also wanted to be honest about your hurt. Above all, you were waiting for him to take the first step. Things are always much easier said than done.

Your face was furrowed in concentration, or perhaps annoyance; at that moment, he couldn’t quite tell. It seemed as if you were about to carve a look of distress into his features, yet he couldn’t help but smile at how beautiful you looked.

"I don't know," you whispered. Despite looking tired, he still wore a sweet expression as he looked at you. The wrinkle between his relaxed eyebrows and the way his caramel eyes shone, even on not-so-great days, were things you loved about him.

He nodded, tracing circles on your skin, waiting for you to continue. When you finished, you dried his face with the still-warm towel and applied the soothing lotion. The bonus you loved most was that you’d fall asleep with his comforting scent lingering on you. You ran your hands over his bare shoulders, appreciating every freckle, and then, with quiet sincerity, he pulled you into a hug.

Your forehead rested against his chest, your hand entwined around his waist, and gradually, his breathing comforted you. You murmured softly, feeling warmth in your chest, the hairs on his chest tickling your cheek, which made him laugh as well. He nuzzled his red nose against your cheek, then down to your shoulder, and after lightly kissing it, he playfully nibbled, wanting to hear you smile. It was a pleasant and new sensation to feel him against your skin without the facial hair.

“Thank you for takin’ care of me, tiny one,” he said, still feeling weighed down. His face nestled into your neck, and he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. “I really like these little moments with you.” He felt like an idiot for stating the obvious, as if it would somehow make things better. His fear wasn’t about apologizing but rather about recognizing how much he had hurt you with his actions.

You nodded against his skin, feeling small in his embrace. "You know when we go to the market?" Your voice trembled, and he felt the dampness spreading quietly across his chest as you rubbed your hand against him. A lump formed in his throat as he held you tighter. "This is going to sound silly," you said, laughing without much humor.

He watched you through wet eyelashes, cradling your face as your foreheads rested together, allowing you to gaze into each other’s eyes. Your hair stuck to his, and he tried to pull it away in vain; perhaps it was meant to be tangled together. "I wanna hear you out," he said, his voice catching as he spoke.

You swallowed hard and closed your eyes. "I love how you smile at me when you 'find' me in the market, y’know? Your eyes, even your freckles seem to sparkle. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but it always happens, even though you know I’ll come back to you after I find something from the list. Sometimes, I think I do it on purpose—disappear among the shelves and then reappear with something in hand to show you. It never fails. You squint your eyes and then break into a smile, your cheeks rosy and your teeth showing, and it makes me want to hug you." You sniffled, feeling vulnerable.

He was just as emotional, yet he held you close, making you feel heard. "I’m afraid this will end," your voice trailed off, and then you shook your head vigorously. "I hate thinking that you might get tired of being with me. Even though I know you acted in the heat of the moment, I can't shake the feeling that it’s a possibility." Those were the truths that weighed heavily on you, and you felt apprehensive about sharing it.

There was silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. He cradled your face in his hands, the tip of his nose nuzzling against your skin as he pressed soft kisses onto your cheek. He offered you the same affectionate look he always had. "It won’t end, I promise. I’m sorry.” He held you tighter, hating himself for leaving you alone to deal with those feelings. Sometimes, he wished you would be angry at him and scream in his face, but fortunately, you both knew better than that. “I didn’t mean to hurt you; I was tired and ended up unloading my feelings on you when you were just trying to help. I didn’t realize you felt this way.”

He chuckled at his own words, his cheeks and the tip of his nose flushed. He hadn’t realized it before, but reflecting on those memories, he loved having you close. In public—whether at the market or any other event—the voices in his head and the external noises became more persistent, almost paralyzing. But having you by his side made him feel lighter, grounding his thoughts. Loving you made him more patient, filling him with that warm feeling in his chest and the assurance that everything would be alright because the person he cherished most in the world was with him.

“I know you didn’t mean it.” The tips of your fingers brushed against his nose, trailing your thumb to his eyes as you smiled weakly at the sight of his tears. “I’m upset, but I’m not angry with you. I know I can be stubborn, and I’ve been forgiven for my questionable actions in the past.”

The difference was that he knew you would know what to say, expertly resolving everything without leaving room for insecurities to take root in his mind. He didn’t have much to say; he had failed you in less than two minutes, and he still replayed the sad look in your eyes and the way you had lowered your head the previous night as punishment.

You opened your arms, noticing how he had withdrawn into himself, lost in his own thoughts. “Take me to bed, Eli.” He forced a smile as he held you close, his hands firm on your waist while you intertwined your legs around him.

“I won’t do it again; I won’t make you feel this way again. I love you. I promise.” His voice was breathless but not desperate, polite and well-articulated. It was as if he felt the need to prove something to you, believing that words alone wouldn’t suffice. Despite knowing he would apologize many more times out of concern, you were fine. He had always been good at listening.

Your back sank into the mattress as your fingers wove through his hair, his face nestled against you. “I don’t like sleeping without you,” he whispered, lifting his head. His hand caressed your cheek and chin, captivated by how he closed his eyes at your touch and sighed. You kissed him lightly, and as you sank back into the bed, he stole another kiss from you. Soon, the tips of your fingers traced the path of his freckles, and he understood that he would miss you if fate decided that you didn’t want him anymore.

“Yeah?” Your eyebrows arched, eager to hear more as you snuggled closer to the pillow, feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

“Yeah,” he laughed, his face lighting up. “I love how you share your day with me and listen until we drift off to sleep.” He paused, fingers tracing your skin as he sighed contentedly, grateful for your closeness and the kisses you shared. “Mornings are great too, when you play with my hair until I wake up to see you smiling beside me, or when I catch you washing your face with the bathroom light on.” Holding your chin, he reflected on how often those moments happened, all equally cherished. He missed you when filming kept him away, and he found himself longing for your daily updates and photos. “I need you, I’m sorry,” he began, but you covered his mouth, smiling.

“If you apologize again, I won’t forgive you; you’ll be on your own. I know you won’t do it again.” Your tone was light, easing his tension. You pulled him closer, enjoying the warmth of his embrace as his hands found their way to your waist. He nuzzled his beard-less face against your forehead and planted a kiss there. “Elijah?” you sang softly.

He grumbled, pulling you even closer.

The moment you heard a little rustle near you, your hand moved itself and you peeked through your fingers. Only to meet the eyes of a boy — not just any boy, an absolutely stunning one. Ah, you're sure you've seen him somewhere already. Doesn't he always walk pass this shop while staring at the food that was displayed on the boards over your head?The one your father chased away once?

"Hey you." you removed your hand to not appear weird, watching how he flinched at your rude coming tone.

"What are you looking at..." he paused, knitting his eyebrows in caution, "little bitch."

Huh. What did he just call you? Could he repeat? "Shut up and come here." you furrowed your eyebrows in slight annoyance, almost regretting what you're about to do. The black haired boy hesitated for a second, standing glued to his spot before slowly coming closer — like a cat slowly making it's way to a stranger who's offering headpats or food. He resembled a cat to be honest.

As soon as he stood infront of you, you took a good look at his clothing. It was kinda shabby and rancid, everywhere holes. He was in general need of new clothing. His stomach growled. Seems like he also was in need of food. And to his luck, you were alone here, already placing a bowl of tteokbokki and a bowl of ramen on the counter.

"Eat up, buddy. It's on the house 'cause it doesn't look like I'll get any customers around this time." you sighed, "and I want to go home as soon as possible."

He blinked. The boy didn't expect that. "You're lucky that I gave you a large amount even though you just called me a little bitch." you placed your elbow on top of the counter, bending down to lean your cheek against your palm. The boy didn't answer, taking the metal chopsticks into his hand. "Bon appetit." you eyes watched how he was literally gobbling the food down.

"Good, right?" you asked, handing him a cup of water as he choked a bit.

The black-haired guy accepted the water swiftly whil nodding his head up and down hastily, a sign that he enjoyed the food. It was nice to see someone liking the food your parents cooked with much love, trying their best to let the food taste delicious. That's why you'll never tolerate someone complaining about the food, you'll throw hands if they cross the line — one bad word and they already crossed the damn line.

"What's your name?" you asked as he literally shoved the bowls into your face for more.

"...Eli." he introduced himself, his eyes intently watching your every move. "And you..?"

"Little bitch." ah, you didn't forgive him yet.

"Sorry." he apologized, not daring to accept the bowls back as he looked at the counter in shame. "I thought I could look weak to you."

"[name]." you answered his question from before, placing the food on the counter. "If you don't eat it, it'll get cold and then it won't taste as good as now."

"Yes..." he was surprised by your actions, lifting his head with slightly widened eyes as heat rushed to his cheeks.

"It's getting cold, you know?"

"Y-Yes." he blinked, bashfully beginning to eat now. After all, he doesn't want it to get cold.

"Visit me everyday and you'll get tasty food for free, yeah?"

A little smile of amusement rose to your lips — it was a pleasing to his eyes like an exquisite painting in the most expensive museum. Only to look at, not for anyone to touch. And if you were the painting, he would probably be the bodyguard if he's lucky enough to even stand beside you that is.

It was an understatement when you said your parents were shocked. Their souls departed from their body for a second as you quickly tried to force them back to their owner. Only because you said you'd like to work more often — more often in everyday. And then you added that you didn't care if they raise the sum of your pocket money. You'd feel bad if you give food away for free and get extra money.

And then you began working in the little stand, immediately coming home after school to take over the stand, always yelling sorry to your friends who wanted to hang out after school. You were busy though, busy feeding a street cat. Your favorite street cat, you said. While you would always come home quickly to leave your bag at home, Eli already stands beside there. Waiting for you.

He came everyday at the same time. It's not like he has anywhere to go but this little food stand. And then his eyes would light up at the sight of you, his cheeks would turn rosy red sometimes. And then he would stay until it closes. And then he would accompany you home. But at the end it became routine. His routine and your routine.

On the way to your home, you would always teach him new things he missed out. Because you noticed that he lacked a lot of basic education and knowledge. How did you notice? When he started a fight with someone who wanted to ask for directions and your number. As if Eli sensed the bad intention the dude had. In your mind, he reminded you of a cat. But it wasn't a reason to beat the literal shit out of someone.

"Where is he?" you questioned under your breath. "Is he beating someone up?" a gasp.

For the first time, you're the one waiting for him. Wow you were bored out of your mind. And slightly worried that he might have picked a fight again. However you doubt it because he's been a little busy lately. There are times where he arrives late or times where he goes earlier and not take you home. There are also days where he is not coming at all. Of course you're worried.

Suddenly — as soon as you opened your eyes, the black-haired boy stood infront of you with a troubled expression on his face. You averted your eyes from him to a group of people standing behind him with a curious gleam in their eyes. "Eli, you brought your... friends?" you were kind of surprised to see other people surrounding him. Of course though, his looks would attract people.

"No, they followed me..." he said truthfully, glancing behind him. "Am I in trouble?"

"For what? No, you aren't in trouble. I was just surprised that you have so many friends." you shook your head and signed his friends to come closer.

"A-Ah..!" one of the girls spoke up, "I was just curious about the person Eli always speaks about, but then those two followed me even though I said them not to. W-We're not looking for trouble!"

"Cute." you chuckled as she tried to explain herself, "y'all hungry?"

"No..!—"

The stomach of those kids began to growl at the sight and smell of delicious food. "(It's) alright. We (don't) have money." the boy was the next one to speak up, only to get nudged by the girl. "Stop leaving out words, she'll misunderstand!" she said with furrowed eyebrows. Wow what a funny troup of people. You looked at the last girl curiously who clung to the rather more confident one.

"It's on the house by the way." you already placed several bowls on the counter.

"B-But we can't eat without the rest of the family!" the girl said, not ready yet to accept the food offering.

"You can have some to-go." you suggested with a smile, "now come on. It seems like Eli will eat without you."

They stared at their friend who was by now holding chop sticks in his hands. "The name's [name]." you introduced yourself and watched the three hesitating to eat. "Quick, quick before Eli gets to eat your portion." and at that, they moved to come forward. Wow so that sentence made them move their asses? "What's your name?"

"The one and only mighty Warren Chae." he folded his hands together before eating.

"I'm Sally."

"My name is Heather."

"Well, aren't you all a cute bunch?" you asked, "I honestly thought Eli wouldn't find any other friends beside me. That little rascal really surprised me."

"Eli is kind though and he's on the path to change for the better..!" Sally said, not appreciating the way you're talking about Eli.

"Of course." you chuckled. "Hope he isn't doing anything bad. After all, he promised."

"Well... We're currently working on it..." she sweatdropped.

"How old are you all?"

"Fifteen."

"Then I'm older than you by one year. Better start calling me noona."

"Noona!"

"It was a joke."

A little smile grew in Warren's lips as he saw Sally conversing with you, enjoying the sight of her eyes lighting up just because of you before returning to his food again. "You have it all over you. Let me help you..." Warren heard Heather's little giggle as she took a napkin to help Eli wiping away the sauce that he had all over his mouth. He blinked, watching how Eli nodded slowly with his head, his eyes concentrated at the sight infront of him.

"You're cute." you complimented Sally, leaning your cheek against your fist and watching how red she got.

"Obviously I am!" she swept the hair back serveral times.

"Mhm, of course." it was nice to see someone full of emotions, a stark contrast to your own nature. From the corner of the eye you could see someone staring and as your eyes averted from Sally, you met gazes with Eli who was already done with his food. "You want more?" you questioned, standing up straight again and ready to serve him another portion.

"Please..." Eli shyly nodded at your smile, sinking his head a bit. Yet his eyes never left your figure, attentively following your every move while also admiring you from the place he was standing, his cheeks slowly painted itself a rosy red. The others — girl beside him long forgotten as he was blessed by your comforting presence, bewitching smile and addicting laugh.

Heather's hand lowered itself as she watched how shy he got around you, a little frown visible on her face before she continued to eat her portion of food. Oh. She could always recognize those eyes. The look of love.

© 2024 kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work !

You closed your laptop with a sigh. You’d tried pretty much every spot on campus you could think of, but everywhere was crowded and noisy, and you just couldn’t focus. You left the study hall with your laptop under your arms, trying to think of where you could go to get your coursework done. You needed somewhere quiet, somewhere no one would disturb you - preferably somewhere with a lock.

As you wandered through the halls of the college, you passed through the science block, and an idea struck you. It was a long shot, but you thought you might as well give it a go.

You found your Chemistry professor’s office door and knocked. After a few moments, the door swung open to reveal a frowning Dr Michaelson.

“Office hours are over,” he said shortly. He hesitated, though, looking you up and down thoughtfully. “…I might make an exception, though. What do you want?”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Dr Michaelson, and I know this is gonna be a real cheeky ask…”

Dr Michaelson raised an eyebrow curiously and leant against the doorframe, his arms folded.

“I’m tryna do my math homework but everywhere on campus is so busy, I can’t focus. Is there any chance I could just sit in the lab to do my homework?”

“And risk knocking something over?” Dr Michaelson scoffed. “No chance. But… you could work in here.”

That took you aback.

“Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Sure. Just keep the noise down, would ya? I got my own work to do.”

Dr Michaelson stepped back and opened the door, gesturing for you to come in.

“Wow, thanks, Dr Michaelson, I really appreciate it. I owe you one.”

You said this as you walked into the office, so you didn’t see the hungry smirk that teased at the corner of your professor’s lips when he heard that.

“Not a problem at all, [Y/n]. Anything my students need. Here - lemme make you some space.”

He gathered up some of the papers strewn over his desk to make some space, then pulled a chair around for you. You thanked him again as you sat at his desk next to him.

“Now, don’t go telling everyone they can do this,” Dr Michaelson said firmly. “This is a one time thing, you hear? You caught me in a good mood.”

You mimed zipping your lips closed. Dr Michaelson smiled, then turned back to his own work.

You opened your laptop and loaded up your math homework again. Finally, you were able to concentrate. You liked having company when you studied, but not the obnoxiously loud company that Stanford seemed to be full of today. It was nice having Dr Michaelson for company, because he didn’t disturb you, and you were able to really focus on your homework.

Although he was mostly quiet, you did hear Dr Michaelson grumble under his breath sometimes. After the third “fuck’s sake” from him, you had to glance over.

“Something wrong?” you asked with amusement.

“I hate computers,” Dr Michaelson replied with a grumble as he hit the backspace button aggressively. “It keeps telling me I’m spelling Musettamycin wrong.”

You peered over at the screen, where his word processor had put a red squiggle under ‘Musetamycin’.

“It has two Ts,” you said.

Dr Michaelson frowned at you. “I think I know how to spell Musettamycin, [Y/n]. I am a Nobel Laureate.”

“Yeah, in Chemistry, not English.”

He narrowed his eyes, then stood up and grabbed a book from his shelf. He flicked through the pages, apparently found what he was looking for, and quickly put the book back on the shelf.

“Well done. You passed my test.”

He sat back down and added an extra T, and the red line promptly disappeared. You giggled.

“Do I get extra credit?”

Dr Michaelson looked at you thoughtfully.

“You get one chance for my help with your math homework.”

“Who says I need help?”

Your professor scoffed.

“You’re smart, [Y/n], but you ain’t that smart. You’ll need it,” he said confidently.

He turned back to his work, and you to yours - and, sure enough, eventually you came across a problem you just couldn’t solve.

“Alright, I admit it, I need help.”

Dr Michaelson leaned back in his chair with a triumphant grin.

“Well, well, well…”

“Stop!” you laughed. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

Dr Michaelson sighed dramatically. “Well, there are drawbacks to being a Nobel Laureate, I suppose. Everyone thinks you know everything - which I do. Come on, then, let’s have a look.”

He scooted his chair closer to yours to look at your screen.

“Oh, that’s easy. You gotta find a substitution to simplify it. Look at the denominator - what kind of substitution d’you think you need?”

“Uhm…”

Your mind went blank for a moment when you felt Dr Michaelson’s breath on your cheek. You realised suddenly that he’d scooted very close to you. He had one arm on the back of your chair, while with his other hand he pointed at one of the integers on your screen.

“Oh, er… trigonomic, right?”

“Good girl,” said Dr Michaelson, and you felt a strange shiver run across you, like he’d said some secret code to make you blush. He glanced at you, clearly noticing your reaction, and smirked.

“So… choose a substitution.”

He spoke softly, as if he were talking about something very different.

You cleared your throat and went to write out a substitution, trying not to get distracted by how very close to you he was. Dr Michaelson pulled his hand away from your screen… and rested it on your knee.

You could feel his gaze burning into you as you wrote out your workings, and when you paused, he glanced back at your screen.

“Good. Now, rewrite it in terms of theta.”

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to do that when his hand was still on your knee… or when it began moving up your leg, his fingers grazing your inner thigh. Was your Chemistry professor seriously coming onto you right now?

“Good girl… so smart,” Dr Michaelson muttered in your ear. “I don’t think you need my help at all… you just wanted some attention, huh?”

You could feel your heart racing. Your cheeks were burning red, but it just seemed to spur him on.

“Is it really all that busy on campus, [Y/n]? Was I really your only option for some peace and quiet? I don’t think so…”

“I, um… I remembered you said the lab stays locked…”

Dr Michaelson chuckled, his deep voice reverberating in your ear.

“Mmm, and you wanted to get me behind a locked door, is that it?”

“N - no, I…”

You gasped as Dr Michaelson reached the top of your thigh, but instead of stopping, he just kept going, his large hand suddenly cupping your crotch firmly through your pants.

“It’s bad form to lie to your professors, [Y/n],” he whispered. “I could report you for academic misconduct, you know.”

He stroked you with his fingers, and even through the fabric of your clothing, it sent a tingling feeling right to your core.

“Dr Michaelson…”

“Call me Eli.”

“Eli… how do you know I won’t - ah!” - another squeeze from him - “won’t… report you for this?”

He smirked.

“Are you telling me you don’t want it, [Y/n]? Say you don’t want it and I’ll stop.”

He continued caressing your crotch, his fingers dancing dangerously close to your zipper.

“It’s… it’s bad form to lie to my professors,” you said, stealing a glance at him. His pupils were wide with lust, his confident smirk on his lips just begging to be kissed.

Eli chuckled.

“Smart girl.”

He unzipped your pants and slipped his hand inside, causing you to let out a high-pitched whine.

“Wet already?” he teased, his fingers exploring your folds as you tried to keep your lips closed tight, lest you cry out a little too loud and be heard in the corridor. “My, you are an eager little thing, aren’t you?”

He pushed two fingers between your inner folds, digging deeper into the wetness that was pooling between your legs. You bit your lip, your eyelids fluttering, and let out another whine when Eli’s fingertip found your sweet spot.

“You need to simplify the expression,” he murmured in your ear as his finger circled your clit.

Your eyes fluttered open, confused.

“I - huh?”

Eli nodded towards your computer screen. “Simplify it, then integrate with respect to theta. Then your integral will be straightforward.”

What the fuck was wrong with him?

What the fuck was wrong with you, for that matter?

He stopped his movements very suddenly, and you whined in frustration.

“Go on. Show me how clever you are.”

You tried to clear your mind and focus on the expression on your computer screen, but you were far more interested in the finger that was now circling your clit again, spreading your wetness around as you tried to remember what numbers were.

“Good girl,” Eli said again. He’d clearly figured out how weak you were to those words, and he was using them to his full advantage. “What do we do next?”

Finger me, you thought.

“Substitute back to x,” you said.

“Go on, then. You can finish it from here.”

As your fingers moved across the keyboard, his fingers moved down through your folds, and pushed at the entrance to your pussy.

“One more step. Go on.”

You cried out as his fingers slipped inside you, but you kept going, willing your mind to try and think about stupid numbers at a time like this.

“Root over four minus x squared,” you said aloud, trying to ignore the way Eli’s fingers were crawling deeper inside you, reaching out to find your G-spot.

“And then - ah! - plus C.”

You sighed with relief as you finished your answer.

Eli smirked.

“See? You didn’t need my help with math. But I do think you needed my help with this, didn’t you?”

The hand that was on the back of your chair reached around to slide under your arm and grab your breast through your t-shirt as he began pumping his fingers harder inside you. You moaned.

“You like that, huh? You like getting fingered by your professor?”

“Y - yes,” you admitted. “It feels so good…”

“You think this is good? Just wait ‘til you feel my cock… you’ll be coming back every day on the pretence of needing help with homework, but really you just need my cock.”

You let out a moan of his name, which seemed to spur him on, as he began fingering you more aggressively, his other hand pawing at your breast, as if he were resisting tearing your clothes off to get straight to your flesh.

You grabbed onto the arm of your chair to steady yourself, and with your other hand, you reached over to Eli’s lap to cup his hard length beneath his trousers, and you couldn’t hide your reaction when you felt how big he was.

“You want it, huh? You want my cock, [Y/n]? Go on, tell me you want it… all you have to do is ask…”

“P - please, Dr Michaelson,” you panted. “I need your cock. Please - please, fuck me on your desk…”

Eli groaned, overwhelmed with arousal at your words. He withdrew his hands from you, then grabbed you by the waist and pulled you onto his lap. Your lips connected with his instantly, his arms wrapped around your torso, and you could feel his rock hard erection straining through his trousers, rubbing against your own far too clothed crotch.

He was a sloppy kisser, seemingly trying to get as much of his saliva in and around your mouth as possible. You reached down to unbuckle his belt, and he groaned with relief when some of the pressure on his cock was relieved.

“Fucking hungry little minx,” Eli growled as you fumbled with his belt. “Bet you’ve been dreaming about this, haven’t you? Fingering yourself to the thought of me… mhm, I know you have. Go on, get those damn pants off.”

He pushed you off his lap, and you obediently pushed your pants and underwear down past your knees, kicking them off along with your shoes while Eli finished opening his fly and pulled his cock out from underneath his boxers.

He hummed with satisfaction as he looked at you, pulling languidly on his cock as he took in the view of you, naked from the waist down, your pussy soaked and ready for him.

Oh, he had definitely found his new plaything.

Well, he’d better test her out.

He got to his feet and kissed you again, his cock brushing against your skin, his lips parting from yours only to pull your t-shirt over your head. He grinned when he saw the lacy bra you were wearing.

“Someone had a plan when she got dressed this morning,” he said smugly. “Did you decide to seduce your professor this morning or were you already planning it last night?”

“I like to wear this sometimes,” you admitted. “It makes me feel confident.”

“Mmm, and damn right too… God, those tits are so fuckable. Maybe another day, hm? I promised you my cock and you’re gonna get my cock. It’s what you deserve for being such a smart girl. Now - on the desk.”

You obediently hopped up onto the desk, perched on the edge, but Eli placed a firm hand on your shoulder and pushed you onto your back. You could feel papers sliding around beneath your back, and you had to push aside a stapler that was digging into your shoulder, but something about getting fucked by Dr Eli Michaelson on his work was incredibly hot.

“Look at you, fucking hell,” Eli growled as he rolled a condom he’d pulled from a drawer down his shaft. “You’re gonna get your slutty pussy juice all over my papers. Ah, well.”

He entered you with one fluid motion, causing you to cry out in surprise as his cock pierced your cunt, sliding easily up your walls, stretching them out with a delicious burn that sent your pleasure receptors wild.

Eli kept a firm grip on your thighs as he thrusted into you, groaning with abandon and no apparent care for who might be walking by.

“God, I fucking needed this,” he moaned. After his wife had left him and his last plaything graduated, he’d been going through a frustrating dry spell. And now here you were, presenting yourself at his office with your low-cut top and your tight little ass. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

“Oh, fuck - fuck, Dr Michaelson, that feels so good…”

He smirked proudly at your moans. He knew just how good he was at fucking, but he still loved to hear it.

“Your cunt’s full of my cock, [Y/n]… I think we’re on first name terms now.”

You laughed, which quickly turned into a groan of surprise when Eli pushed your thighs back further, spreading your pussy out for him as his hips pummelled into your flesh.

“How long have you wanted this, [Y/n]?” Eli asked. “Did you walk out of my first lecture with soaking wet panties? Or did it take you a few lectures to realise how badly you wanted my cock?”

“I - I always thought you were handsome,” you admitted. “Ever since I - ah! - saw your picture in the paper when you got your Nobel Prize. I saw you worked at Stanford and - oh! - applied for my postgrad here.”

Eli grinned, his ego swelling as much as his cock.

“You applied here just so you could fuck me?”

“No!” you insisted. “I was gonna go to UCLA, but I thought - mhm - if I came here instead, I could study under a - ah! - a Nobel Laureate - fuck!”

Eli picked up his pace, fucking into your cunt furiously, the stroking of his ego sending a fresh wave of lust over him.

“Mmm, now look at you - you’re certainly under me now, huh?”

The desk was shaking violently, papers flying everywhere, and you heard the crash of a pen pot falling to the floor. Neither of you paid much mind to it.

“I might just have to schedule some one to one tutoring with you, [Y/n]… since you went to such lengths to be under me. Would you like that?”

“Y - yes,” you panted, your voice straining as you felt pleasure coiling inside you. “I think that would be - ugh - beneficial… fuck, Eli, I’m gonna cum…”

“Mmm, yes, cum all over my cock,” Eli growled. “God, look at you… fucking magnificent… and all mine…”

He released one of your legs from his grip to press his thumb against your clit, and as soon as he began rubbing circles around the swollen bundle of nerves, you knew you were done for.

“Yes… yes… Eli…”

“Fuck, [Y/n], I’m so close… I’m gonna cum so fucking hard…”

His moans increased, his thumb rubbing your clit and his cock furiously fucking into your cunt, and combined with the look of unadulterated pleasure on his face, you felt yourself tipping over the edge, and you cried out his name as you came, your legs twitching and your cunt gushing around his cock as your orgasm overwhelmed you.

Feeling you cum around his cock was the last straw for Eli, and he moaned loudly as he came too, filling the condom with his seed as he continued fucking you through his orgasm, hips stuttering erratically as he came inside a cunt for the first time in far too long, and such a warm, tight one too.

Eli stayed buried inside you for a few moments as his movements stilled and you both caught your breath. Then, he pulled out of you with a loud squelching sound, and passed you a box of tissues to clean yourself up.

“Fuck, that was so good,” he panted as he pulled the spent condom from his cock and deposited it in the bin.

You mumbled what sounded like “uh-huh” in agreement, your mind still addled from the pleasure as you tried to mop up as much as you could from between your legs.

When finally you’d managed to locate your clothes and get them back on, Eli was sitting back in his chair, watching you with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Well, I’d certainly give you an A for that,” he said proudly.

You laughed.

“What, am I majoring in sex now?”

“If you did, you’d be top of the class.”

He passed you your laptop, which thankfully hadn’t been damaged by your escapades.

“So… reckon you need some one-to-one tutoring?”

You blushed under his intense gaze, his eyes still staring at you hungrily.

“If you think I need it, Professor,” you said coyly.

Eli grinned and reached around to give your ass a squeeze.

Imagine Brooke (Eli’s owl) molting, however Eli, attentive as he is, has been busy. Enough so that he hasn’t had the time to preen the feathers she can’t get. So you step in, sitting in his room as you gently clean her feathers, murmuring to her, even if you very well recognize she can’t understand you.

And midway through, Eli finally returns, yet he pauses in the doorway, watching as a small smile creeps his face seeing you take care of Brooke in his place. He adores animals, and especially birds, so of course seeing you care for them brought him a quiet, yet very genuine joy.