Can I suggest a yuta smut where he is a tutor and ended up sleeping with the *reader*?
A/N: This plot looks so rushed- oh well, it’s fiction, enjoy [y is yuta with glasses not a thing yet]
A pencil flicked your forehead sharply, causing you to wince. You straightened in your chair abruptly, clearing your throat.
His expression seemed dull, his fingers twirling the pencil absent-minded.
“How do you do that?”
Yuta let out a small sigh as you ignored the essay before you, instead focusing your attention on his fingers.
Your gaze dropped to the table in dismay as he sighed, your shoulders deflating slowly.
A warm hand reached out to your own, his pencil falling into the palm of your hand.
Slowly, he maneuvered your fingers, the rough pads of his fingertips brushing your soft skin gently.
Your cheeks flushed as your gaze trailed from his masculine hands to the glasses that sat upon the bridge of his nose.
“Why are your hands wet?” he questioned suddenly, glancing toward you.
He wore a small grin, leaning in slowly.
“Do I make you nervous?”
Your mind raced with raunchy responses, your lips parting in fright as he leant nearer.
“Y-You’re just really good with your fingers,” you remarked dumbly.
His grin grew into a wicked smirk.
“Let me show you-”
You fumbled for words, dropping the pencil carelessly as he stood from his seat opposite you, slowly making his way around the small table.
Your shoulders tensed as his broad hands landed upon them, gently massaging them.
“Do I make you nervous?”
“A bit,” you admitted.
You were unsure of him, his sporadic actions always catching you off guard- unsure whether he was toying with you or not.
A hand drifted from your shoulder to the inside of your thigh, his breath suddenly by your ear.
“Tell me to stop.”
You grew bewildered by his demand, unsure what to answer. You never knew what to answer, that’s why he was your tutor in the first place.
His lips brushed your ear in a tantalizing manner, his hand squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh gently.
“You don’t want me to stop?”
Your heart pounded in your chest, your thighs squeezing together as his lips brushed the shell of your ear once again.
His hand left your thigh, instead trailing up to your chest, drawing you back. His fingers grazed the column of your neck, tilting your head back slowly.
His lips met your own hastily as a sigh of content left him.
The desk creaked, a whine leaving you as his digits roughly thrust into you once again. You buried your face in his shirt, gripping the fabric tightly as his thrusts grew vigorous. Eagerly, he leant down, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, his lips sloppily sucking on the fragile skin.
Your voice rose an octave, unable to be silenced as his palm roughly ground into your sensitive bud.
His muffled words encouraged you, murmuring into your skin quietly.
“I’m going to-!”
Your face contorted, a silent scream leaving you as his thick fingers plunged into you with force.
Your walls constricted around him, your muscles spasming in ecstasy.
“You sound so sweet,” he murmured, withdrawing his fingers slowly.
He brought his fingers to his lips, the erotic sight making your heart burst with anticipation.
“You really are sweet,” he remarked, melding his lips with your own once again.