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celestie0 · 2 months

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.8 a little cottage on the countryside

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 8/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 13.5k (...i'm gonna go take a nap lol)

a/n. hello hellooo my dear kickoff readers, hope you're having a nice day so far! this is the longest chapter yet, so i hope you enjoy <3 it's also got one of my favorite tropes everrr hehehehe you could probs guess what it is halfway through. see you at the bottom and happy reading! sorry if there are typos i didn't proofread this one as much as the others haha

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

You don’t cry much these days, but when you do, it’s usually out of nowhere.

Like now, as you stand in the school’s photo lab, developing the shots that you took for UTokyo’s game against Osaka last week, and you have to swipe at the tears on your cheek threatening to fall all over the captured images of grass, benches, nets, banners, stands, and him.

One of the photographs catches your eye, and you pick it up from the table. It’s a candid moment you took of Gojo on the field right before you confessed to him. You had spotted him first while the team was doing their warm-up, and you thought he looked nice from the way he had that concentrated look on his face that you’ve learned to love. But right before you clicked the shutter, he had turned away, chasing after the ball, and so all you could capture was his back facing you as he looked off ahead into the distance. You wondered if that was how it’s always been this whole time–with you looking at him while he’s looking off at something else. It was a depressing thought, but your mind had a tendency for sadness since that day.

The sound of the photo lab door opening jolts you back to reality, and you quickly straighten your posture and wipe your cheek with your sleeve, trying to sniffle as discreetly as possible, then set the picture down. Your fellow film major greets you quietly, asking if you’re still using the developer liquid, to which you say no, then hand it over to them. You stuff your photographs into a folder and head out the door.

You make it across campus to the Film & Media Studies building, then up to the third floor where your professor's office is. His door was ajar, but you still knocked before entering.

He looks up from the photographs he was grading. “Oh, y/n, hello. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you, yourself?” you ask, taking a seat on the chair that was fixed to face his desk. You pull your tote bag into your lap.

“Great, thanks. How can I help you?”

You slide the folder to him over the scraped, worn burgundy wood of his desk. “I still had to turn in my photos for the assignment due last week. I appreciate the extension.”

“Ah, right,” he says, taking the folder from you. “I’ll get around to grading them. I’m curious, what did you end up choosing for your subject matter?” He tucks the folder underneath the pile that was to his side.

“I took photos of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni on Thursday last week,” you tell him.

He frowns at you. “Film cameras don’t have that level of zoom, though. I do hope you followed the rubric guidelines for central object to frame ratio, otherwise I’ll have to take off points.”

“Oh– I did. I took the photos from the sidelines,” you tell him, panicking already.

His eyes widened. “From the sidelines? On the field?”

You nod at him, fidgeting with your bag in your lap.

“Wow, I can’t say I’ve ever had a student take photos like that before. That’s pretty challenging to pull off, though,” he says, sitting up straighter, “...you mind if I take a look at them right now?”

You shake your head. “Oh, no. Not at all.”

He pulls your folder out from the bottom of the pile, then gently slips the photos out of them, rearranging them all across his desk. He leans down closer to study some of them, tilting his head curiously at others, furrowing his brow in concentration to a select few. “These are incredible.”

You take in a deep breath. “Thank you, professor.”

He nods at you with acknowledgement, and you watch him as he studies the images quietly for another minute, then looks up at you. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asks when he notices you’re still seated.

“Ah…yes, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?” He taps his pen on the desk.

“I was wondering if you could write me a letter of recommendation for the film graduate program.”

He nods, like he was expecting the question. “Yeah, of course. Just send me your resume and portfolio.” He taps eagerly on one of your images. “Please send me digitals for these, too.”

You let out a relieved exhale. “Yes, I will. Thank you so much, professor, I really appreciate it.”

You left the building feeling extremely relieved about your professor agreeing to write your recommendation, but also feeling sad because you couldn’t tell Gojo about it, since this was the full-circle moment for the little arrangement the two of you had. There’s a thought that considers texting him, and you take out your phone then go to his name, but your thumbs just can’t bring yourself to send him a message.

The days of the week go by in a blur, and between every single little moment in life, your mind always wanders to him. It’s hard to get over someone when you’re surrounded by them. Like late at night while you’re editing the digitals of the game last week to send to your professor, and you find yourself staring at the pictures you’ve taken of him. It’s hard to get over him when the school worships the soccer team and you’re forced to see promotional banners and posters all over campus with his stupidly beautiful face in them. You didn’t have the heart to block him on Instagram, because you remember that time he teased you about how you didn’t follow him back, and you wonder if it would make him sad if you blocked him, so you just resorted to deleting the app instead. And although you were the one that asked for space from him, you were growing increasingly annoyed at how good he seemed to be at keeping it.

The library wasn’t even much of a safe space either, since you overheard a group of girls the other day at a table arguing about which of the players on the team is the hottest, and so you find yourself doing your homework on a lovely Wednesday morning at your apartment instead.

You lean back in your chair and look up at the ceiling, and then jump when you hear your phone ring, quickly turning it over to read the caller ID. Nobara. You accept the call, placing her on speaker, then set your phone back down on your desk.

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up?”

“Hey, nothing much. Just wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out,” she says.

“Oh, I would love to, but I’m working on homework right now. It’s due in a couple of hours,” you sigh.

“Boo, you whore. For what class?”

“My stats 130 elective,” you say. “I’m a film major, why do I need to know statistics?” You tap your pen to your chin. “Actually, it might be valid.”

“Is that the class with the creepy professor?” she asks. “The one that got caught with a PornHub tab open while he was presenting his lecture slides.”

“Yeah.”

“I took his class last semester! I still have all my homework for it,” she exclaims on the other end, “do you want me to send it over?”

“Yes, omg, I could kiss you right now,” you groan, resting your head on your arm sprawled across your desk in exhaustion.

“So definite no to hang out?”

“Sorry, I’ll reach out later though,” you sigh, “also, my car is still in repair…apparently something came up with the engine. So we can’t go far unless we invite Mina.”

“That’s fine, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to come if we invite her just to chauffeur,” she says sarcastically. “By the way, how’d the pictures come along? For the newsletter?”

You lift your head up off of the desk in a panic. Shit. You were so focused on turning in your digitals of the game to your professor that you totally forgot you were supposed to send them to Utahime as well. “Oh my god, I forgot. When do they finalize the release again?”

“Isn’t it today at noon? I sent over film club’s photos this morning,” she says.

You glance at the time. 11:56am.

“Nobara, I’ve gotta go. I need to call Utahime, sorry,” you say. She acknowledges you, telling you to hurry, and then you hang up.

You call Utahime and scribble down on a sticky note to paste on your wall as a reminder to buy her a loving gift basket one of these days because of course she extends the release deadline just for you. You finish touching up the digitals and then send them to her via email, and after you finish your statistics homework, she calls you again to meet up somewhere nearby.

“Thanks so much for coming here,” Utahime says as she sits across from you at one of the local cafes you frequent. “Also, this chai latte is so good, I’m honestly surprised.”

You nod at her. “This place has great drinks.” You slide a folder across the table to her and she sets her drink down to accept it.

“Sorry if it was a hassle, but I just had to ask for physicals of these photos,” she sighs as she pulls them out. “They’re amazing, seriously, I gasped when I saw them. I’m used to sifting through a lot of professional sports photos for the newsletter, for all of the teams on campus, but I’ve never seen photos as charming as these. It could be the film photography aspect, since most of the ones I see are digital, but I’m seriously shocked you could capture shots like this at a rowdy men’s soccer match.”

You’re shaking your head at her. “Please don’t compliment me so much, I’ll cry. And it’s no issue, I had a spare set of physicals from when I developed them. You can keep them.”

She smiles at you. “Okay, well then, I think it goes without saying that I’ll definitely be including them for the sports recap this week. I’ll send you the money soon, too.”

You clap your hands together and interlock your fingers. “I’m. So. Grateful. For. You.”

She laughs across from you and takes another sip of her latte before sitting back slightly, glancing at the photos spread across the table. “Hm…how busy are you for the rest of the semester?”

You tilt your head at her and bring your coffee to your lips, taking a sip before setting it back down. “Not terribly busy, I quit my job last month so I’m just taking my assignments as they come and go.”

Utahime nods at you, a thoughtful expression on her face, and she smooths down the fabric of her shirt. “Okay, well, I got an email from the school this morning that one of the newsletter photographers for the men’s soccer team is moving to a different city, so they’re looking to fill in the position as soon as possible and they asked if I knew anyone,” she mentions, resting her elbow on the table and then placing her hand on her cheek. “They usually only hire professionals, but if I put a word in for you, they’d probably offer it to you.”

Your eyes widen at her from across the table, heart beating a bit faster in your chest.

“They pay really well for a part-time job. It’s essentially full-time pay for part-time hours,” she continues, “but it’s probably because you’ll have to travel with the team to their away games, including unofficial matches and conferences. If you’re not that busy for the next two months, then I think it’d be a good opportunity for you to build experience.”

You purse your lips together, considering her words. Although it’s a bit different from your long-term career plans, it was still a great way to get experience before graduate school. And besides, you needed the money, considering you quit your job last month and your savings were starting to run thin–never mind the fact that your car repair bill went from a few thousand yen to somewhere in the tens-of-thousands. And you would prefer to still be able to afford rent. Oh, and eat. Possibly still pay for Netflix.

But then there was the fact that having that kind of job meant that you would be spending a lot of time with the soccer team, and therefore increases the chances of running into Gojo. And you’re supposed to be staying away from him to get over your feelings.

“It sounds like an amazing opportunity, really,” you start, “...but I can’t.”

Utahime frowns at you and sits up straight. “Really? I thought you’d be excited. Why not?”

You sigh. “It’s complicated.”

“y/n…” Utahime starts, “I don’t really know what’s going on in your head right now, but isn’t this your dream? For your work to reach people? I know it’s only a stepping stone, believe me I know very well the path to becoming any sort of artist is an uphill battle of hell, but I’ve known you for a while now. And I know how much your dreams mean to you, and how hard you’re willing to work for them.”

Your heart swells in our chest at Utahime’s words. She was right, and you were starting to get really sick of letting your fears hold you back from what you really wanted in life. “...you’re right, I’m sorry. I’d love to be considered for the position, if you could recommend me.”

She smiles and nods at you. “Will do.”

–

The email for the job offer comes surprisingly fast, and you quickly read through it before accepting. It wasn’t a horrible time commitment, given you’d only have to take pictures during active play during matches, give or take a couple hours before, and the photographers rotate between who takes up each of the conferences so the work was split up. You were able to meet a few of the newsletter photographers & journalists during the game last week, so you already knew some of them. The offer letter came attached with a full calendar of the soccer team’s practice schedule, official match schedule, unofficial match schedule, conference schedule, and other publicity schedule, and you’re shocked at how busy all the players must be. The fact that they still have time to be students–and for most of them, active participants in fraternities–was honestly beyond you.

It seemed like they only had four more official matches left, two being away matches, along with a couple of unofficial matches that they may or may not participate in depending on how the season goes for them.

Their next game was on Friday against Kyoto university, and you were scheduled to shoot for their sports conference the day following as well. So you find yourself on a train embarked for the countryside, and you peer out of the window with a nervous feeling in your stomach. The sparkling skyscrapers and bustling crowds of Tokyo gradually started to give way into sights of expansive lush greenery, picturesque and charming towns, and winding rivers surrounded by trees. The closer you got to Kyoto, the sky became more gray until a steady drizzle began to fall against the train window. When you reached the final station, the rain had dissipated, and the taxi ride to the hotel was only about fifteen minutes. The journey felt exhausting, and you were so incredibly ready to pass out in a comfy bed.

You stood underneath a small sidewalk roof near the vending machines lining the outside of the hotel, trying to keep your bag and suitcase with all your equipment in it dry from the remnant soft mist of rain still lingering in the air.

“Hey, Utahime, sorry to bother you so late,” you say, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear, “but is it the Hilton on 3rd street? Or on Main? Because if it’s the one on Main, then I may have messed up-”

You stop speaking when you hear a masculine voice down the road towards the left, echoing off of the lined up small shops along the sidewalk, and your heart could have recognized the sound anywhere. You’re swift to turn and face that direction, almost dropping your phone in the process, and you see him– the object of all your suffering lately.

Gojo stood there, wide-eyed and stopped completely in his tracks as the recognition of you under the dim street lighting flashes across his face. He’s in pajamas– a red long-sleeve cotton shirt that looks so stupidly soft and comfortable it almost makes you emotional, with some matching checkered red pants. It was the most casual clothing you’ve ever seen him in. His hair appears damp, slightly tousled, from what you could assume was an effort to dry it off fast. And he had crocs on. In sports mode. You make a mental note to ask him about his charms and if he’s willing to trade any of them with you. But maybe some other day. When it doesn’t hurt to think about him.

“y/n?” he calls your name out, astonished. He’s looking at you like he’s just seen a ghost but in the best way possible.

You blink at him, heart skipping a beat just from the mere sight of him, and when you hear Utahime’s voice on the line you’re shaken out of your trance. “Oh, sorry, I’m still here. I…I think I just had my question answered. Thank you, have a good night.” You pull your phone down, gaze lingering on your screen for way too long because you can’t brave yourself to look over at the man to your left, and you end the call.

There’s the sound of remnant puddles of water splashing as he takes a few steps closer to you, and you can see his reflection in the water of the one in front of you. The expression on his face matches the one that was there when you last saw him outside of the UTokyo stadium at the west side exit. It’s an expression you could still see every time you close your eyes.

Finally turning to face him, you purse your lips together. “Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks, voice laced with confusion and you see him take in your appearance with eager flicks of his gaze all around, like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him right now.

“Satoru!” another familiar voice calls out. “Did you get the orange-flavored ones too? Choso’s a fucking idiot and got the grape ones instead. I hate those. They taste like medicine. And ass. Not that I would know what–” You see Geto emerge from the darkness to Gojo’s side, and now he’s looking at you with a surprised look too. “Oh, it’s y/n. What are you doing here?”

“Hey, you two,” you chirp, trying to act as if an entire world of awkwardness wasn’t being exchanged between you and Gojo right now, for the sake of hoping that Geto wasn’t a very good judge of energy. “I’m here to take pictures of the soccer team.”

Your eyes flicker to Gojo, who is still looking at you like he’s never seen a person before.

“Oh, is it for another one of your assignments?” Geto asks.

“No, it’s not. It’s for the newsletter,” you explain to him, “I guess it’s my job now.”

There are a few more distant footsteps that follow behind the two of them, with the crinkling noises of plastic bags hitting against thighs echoing through the streets, and eventually they catch up. You see Nanami and the UTokyo team’s goalie, you believe his name is Choso, arrive at this little gathering that was taking place outside of the hotel.

“That’s awesome!” Geto exclaims. “I’m sure the newsletter will lead to a lot of exposure.”

“Who reads the newsletter?” Choso asks.

Geto nudges him with his elbow. “Dude.”

“What?”

He then fills Choso in on the conversation, “Oh, my bad.”

“Don’t worry, y/n, I read the newsletter,” Geto says, “I read it like the morning paper.”

“It only comes out once a week, but nice try,” you respond, giving him a weary look.

Nanami crosses his arms. “I actually do happen to read it,” he says, “although I refrain from the soccer section. Feels rather egotistic to read it. I find the campus politics section to be enjoyable, though.”

The rest of you exchange annoyed glances at that.

“Satoru reads the soccer section,” Geto says, slinging an arm around him, “‘cause he’s full of himself.”

For a moment, Gojo remains silent, while his teammates, who had been observing him with amused expressions, gradually shift to awkward blinking, like they were expecting him to complain, or say something sarcastic, or joke around by now.

“I do read it,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I saw the release from yesterday. Your pictures were stunning.”

You’re flustered from the way he’s looking at you. “Thanks.”

Choso opens the plastic bag he was holding, peering down into it. “Shit. Ice cream’s melting, guys.”

“Yeah, we should probably head back to the rooms,” Geto looks at you, “do you want any snacks?”

“Oh, no. I’m good. I was just about to go check-in,” you say to them.

The boys politely say bye to you, and Gojo mentions something about staying back for a bit and hands Nanami the plastic bag he was carrying before they head back into the hotel. And then the two of you are alone under this roof, drops of water falling from it in between the two of you. He takes a step towards you, and you instantly stiffen. He seems to notice because he sighs and then walks past you to the vending machine that was next to you, pulling out some spare change from his pocket and inputting it into the machine.

“Do you want anything to drink?” The machine feeds him something, and he crouches down to pick it up before standing up again.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you say, hand clutching the handle of your suitcase.

He cracks the can of his soda open. “So, you’re going to be traveling with us for the newsletter now?” he asks, so concisely, like he felt that every word comes with a tax.

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have to act like we’re strangers.”

You turn to face him. “What should we act like then?”

There’s a hesitant look in his expression as he looks down at his feet and then back up at you. “Can’t we at least be friends?”

The question softens you at your core, the tone of his voice sounding genuine. Being friends with him sounds so nice, and you kind of wish that’s what you two always were. Just friends. Maybe it would have avoided all of this heartache. But deep inside you knew that just being friends with him wasn’t an option anymore, at least not for now. “No, sorry. That’s just a recipe for disaster. I have to go check-in now.”

You grab your tote bag from the bench, grip tight onto your suitcase handle and make your way splashing across the shallow puddles then through the hotel’s automatic doors into the warmth of the lobby.

The lighting inside was warm and there were moderately high ceilings adorned with vintage-looking chandeliers. Around the perimeter, there were amenities including a cozy lounge with a fireplace, a small bar serving cocktails, as well as a business lounge with booths and multiple TVs mounted to the walls playing the local news. It made you feel like you were on vacation, and getting to a hotel at this hour while on vacation always meant that you were about ready to pass out on some freshly washed and tucked white linen sheets after taking a nice warm shower with a lavender-scented mini soap bar.

Making your way through the maze of plush seating areas, you get to the concierge desk to check-in. There was a professionally-dressed woman with a slicked-back bun standing there behind the counter, her eyes scanning the computer screen in front of her, and a big, burly man that stood behind her wearing all black that appeared to be security.

“Hello, I’m here to check-in,” you say, placing your forearm on the cold black counter.

The lady doesn’t look up from the computer screen. You clear your throat.

“Oh, hello. Name on the reservation?” she asks you.

You take a look down at your phone screen. The reservation was still under the name of the person that had recently quit the job. “Yui Ishikawa.”

The lady behind the counter hums to herself, obnoxiously tapping at the keyboard with only one of her index fingers. She was chewing gum. “Hm. Don’t see that name here.”

“What?” You squint at your phone and refresh the page, then turn it to face her. “But it’s on your official booking site. There was email confirmation too.”

She glances at your phone screen then taps at the keyboard again, still obnoxiously loud, but she uses her other index finger this time. “Yeah, still nothing.”

“This has to be some kind of mistake,” you say to her.

She looks up at you with an annoyed expression. “Do you want to take a look at the screen? See for yourself.” She turns the monitor to face you.

You don’t even work here, but you could see clear as day on their interface software that there was a reservation for this Yui Ishikawa woman at this time tonight. You point at it. “It’s right there. The reservation is literally right there.”

She turns the screen back to herself and squints at it. “Oh. Well, unfortunately, we already gave that room to someone else. Since it wasn’t there on our system a half hour ago.”

“What? How is that fair?” You were starting to get seriously annoyed. That refreshing shower you were dreaming of was starting to sound more of a need than a want with every passing minute. “Can you give me another room?”

“No, sorry, we’re all booked for tonight,” she tells you, without offering any additional help.

You look at her baffled. The big burly man behind her has now taken an interest in the conversation as well. “Okay…can you tell me if there are any hotels nearby that I could stay at?”

“Look. This is the countryside, ma’am, there are only a handful of hotels in this area that aren’t tourist accommodations. It’s also the night before a men’s college soccer match, and there seems to be some business seminar taking place nearby too. You can call and check, but the closest hotel this large is about an hour away,” she tells you.

“What? An hour away? I can’t afford a cab ride like that,” you tell her.

“Unfortunately, that isn’t really my problem,” she says.

You blink at her. “Are you being serious? This is ridiculous.”

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to leave if you can’t comply with our booking rules,” she declares.

“Leave?! You’re the ones that messed up the booking!” You’re yelling now, a few heads turning from the bar at the back. Exhaustion was pulsing through your veins and your filter was slipping. “Do you have any idea how to do your damn job?”

The woman guffaws at you. “Alright, that’s it.” She snaps her fingers, and you watch as the big, burly man walks around the counter of the concierge desk to make his way to you.

You take a step back, watching in horror as he towers over you and grabs onto your arm. “Let’s leave without any issues, miss,” he says in a deep voice.

“What?! But– hey, that’s my suitcase! Don’t– wait–”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you hear a familiar voice call out from the left. “What’s going on here?”

The three of you turn your heads in the direction of the voice, and you see Gojo, still clad in those ridiculously soft-looking pajamas, doing a light jog up to the counter.

The woman at the reception desk straightens herself up immediately, and she pets down on her dress and fixes her hair at the mere sight of him. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Nothing to see here, sir! Just a crazy woman that can’t comprehend hotel establishment rules.”

“That crazy woman just so happens to be my wife,” he says, pulling the big burly man’s hand off of your arm.

All three of you look at him dumbfounded.

“Y-Your wife?” the woman asks, sounding equally surprised and disappointed. “But she’s complaining about the fact that she doesn’t have a room.”

“I know, she does that all the time,” he sighs, “she’s got–...early-onset…dementia. Sweetheart, what did I tell you about packing up all your things and leaving the room when I’m not watching you?”

You give him a what the fuck look. He scowls at you to just play along.

“So…she’s with you?” the woman asks.

Gojo nods. “She always forgets that we’ve already booked a room together. Just a silly little sickly lady. Isn’t that right, honey?” He’s holding your shoulders and making you face the concierge woman.

“Y-Yes…” you say awkwardly, trying to put on a smile.

“So, if you could forgive her behavior,” he says with a super pleading voice, pulling you into him so your back is flush against his front side. “I’ll keep her in check from now on.”

The woman lets out a scoff in disbelief. “Alright…just don’t let her out again.” You send her a nasty look. The big burly man lets out a hmph and steps away from you.

“Sure thing. Let’s go, honey,” Gojo says, grabbing the handle of your suitcase in one hand and your upper arm in his other, dragging you with him across the lobby to the elevators. It isn’t until he’s pressed the up button and you finally gain your footing again after stumbling a few steps that you yank away from his grip.

“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, feeling embarrassed.

He looks down at you with a raise of his eyebrow. “Saving you from getting kicked out of the only decent hotel within a thirty-mile radius?”

“I didn’t need your help, I had the situation under control,” you mumble, smoothing out the layers of your clothing.

“Yes. That’s exactly what that looked like,” he muses as the elevator door opens and he steps inside, taking your suitcase with him as hostage. You panic at the sight and step inside with him, the door closing behind you.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“To my room,” he says, pressing a button on the control pad, “you couldn’t get one, right?”

Your eyes widen. “No…I couldn’t.”

Gojo’s room is on the fourth floor, eleven units down to the right, and you follow him with dragging feet all the way down. Once he makes it in front of the door and takes the keycard out of his pocket, he pauses and looks over at you. “Waiting for you to thank me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “For what?”

He’s waving the card in the air tauntingly. “You look exhausted as hell right now. I’m the one with the access to a nice hotel vanity and a soft, warm bed,” he practically purrs the words.

You’re instantly folding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey,” he chimes, pressing the card to the reader.

“Stop calling me that,” you grumble as he opens the door for you.

You step into the room, rolling your suitcase inside with you, and take a look around. There was a single bed with the headboard up against the left-side wall, a nightstand on both sides and a desk where you noticed Gojo had his laptop open and a few books out. The bathroom was to the right, and there was a long table that had a coffee machine as well as the TV on top of it.

You place your suitcase against the wall then turn around, standing only a few feet from the entrance of the room, to find Gojo still standing outside in the hallway.

“Do you have to go somewhere?” you ask him. “Why are you just standing there?”

“Oh, I don’t need any of my other stuff,” he says to you, tapping at his pocket where you can see the imprint of his wallet, “room’s all yours.”

Your eyes widen at him. “Wait…are you going to sleep somewhere else?”

He tilts his head at you, as if that was obvious. “Yeah, I was going to go crash on the couch in Suguru’s room or something.”

“But–” you start, stopping yourself.

He’s waiting for you to speak, but you can’t.

“Well…good night, then,” he says and he turns to the side, about to walk down the hall, when you reach out and grab the sleeve of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks.

This was a bad idea. You’re supposed to be putting distance between the two of you right now, so that you can get over him. This was a man that very clearly said he didn’t have feelings for you. But honestly, you missed him. You missed him so damn much this past week, and you can only be strong for so long.

“You have an important match tomorrow,” you say quietly, “you should be getting a good night’s rest. We’ll share the bed.”

He turns to face you, looking down at where you were pinching the fabric of his shirt, which was just as soft as you had imagined, and he glances up to meet your gaze once again. “I’m…really confused right now.”

“What if you guys lose and are booted from the competition, and I have to spend the rest of my life regretting the fact that the reason the school lost a 12-year championship streak is all because I made you sleep on a couch?” you ask him.

He takes a step towards you. “You really want me to stay?” His voice was low.

“Yes,” you say. “We’re mature adults. Despite everything, we can just…share a bed for one night, right?”

He’s silent for a moment. “I think you trust me a little too much.”

Your face felt hot. “Are you telling me that I shouldn’t?”

“I’m telling you that you should really think this through,” he says.

“Just stay. Please.” The tone to your voice came off much more desperate than you would’ve liked.

He looks at you like the last thing in the world he could say right now was no. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Positive?”

“Satoru.”

“Okay,” he says, walking past you into the room, like he wasn’t really in the mood to argue about it anymore.

You sigh, sulking your shoulders a little bit, and watch as he takes a seat at the desk and continues to click through things on his laptop, occasionally sipping on the cup of coffee he had made for himself, as if your presence here was no unnatural thing.

This all felt so domestic for you. This feels like the most intimate the two of you have been with one another, despite the fact he’s literally made you cum with his tongue before.

“Who drinks coffee at this hour?” you ask, crouching down to unzip your suitcase, opening it up to find your cosmetics bag and a fresh pair of clothes to change into.

“Caffeine doesn’t really affect me anymore.” His eyes were still stuck on his laptop screen.

“You sound dead inside,” you comment, standing back up straight. You step over your suitcase that was on the floor and head into the bathroom, about to close the door but you open it enough to peer over at him from inside. “I’m going to take a shower,” you announce.

You see him poke his tongue to his cheek, leg bouncing up and down underneath the desk, and he squints at his laptop screen like there’s something so damn important that he must concentrate on or else the entire universe would collapse inside of a black hole. “Cool. Have fun.”

“I will.”

“I’m glad.”

“No peeping.”

“There’s a lock on the bathroom door. Feel free to use it.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” And then you’re shutting the door.

It felt nice to freshen up, especially after that long journey, and then you’re doing your skincare in the mirror while you’re wrapped in a towel, trying to forget the fact that the man you quite seriously have immense feelings for is somewhere outside that door just a few feet away in this small hotel room. You spray a spritz of your perfume onto your skin, something there’s literally no point in doing before bedtime, but you still do it…for no particular reason at all, obviously.

When you step back out into the room, Gojo’s eyes are instantly on you from where he stood near the closet. He takes in your appearance and lets out a laugh, looking at you with amusement.

“What?” you ask.

“You look so cute,” he says, “with your little sloth pajamas.”

You’re fully blushing as you make your way over to the armchair in the room to set your cosmetics bag down on it to sort through the mess you’ve just made of it. “Don’t call me cute,” you scold, searching for your lip balm.

You could feel his frown from behind you. “You don’t like it?”

“No. I love it.”

“I’m not following.”

You turn around to face him. “Satoru. You promised me you wouldn’t lead me on anymore. That includes teasing me or complimenting me.”

He looks at you incredulously. “What? I can’t even call you cute? This fucking sucks.”

“Your problem,” you say.

“So you’re cool with sharing a bed, but you’re not cool with me complimenting you,” he lays it out.

“We’re sharing this bed out of the kindness of my own heart,” you say to him, “because I care oh-so-very-much about your soccer career, and understand how important good sleep is for an athlete’s performance. I’m just that considerate of a person.” You point a strict finger at him. “But for your information, if you touch me while we’re in bed, I’ll kill you.”

“Hm. Not sure if I feel threatened or turned on right now,” he says.

You roll your eyes and finally zip up your cosmetics bag, set it on the table then make your way to the left side of the bed. When you glance at the nightstand, you notice Gojo has his wallet, his phone and his charger all situated there.

“Why’s your stuff here?” you ask him.

“Huh? Oh, I was going to sleep on that side,” he says to you.

“I usually sleep on the left side,” you tell him.

“But I usually sleep on the left side.”

You blink at him.

“I–…I’ll sleep on the right side,” he suggests, shoulders tense and on edge.

“Okay,” you shrug, and move his stuff.

Gojo spends some time freshening up in the bathroom too, and when he comes out he looks like he’s actually tired, and you feel like it’s the first time you’ve seen him look as worn out as he probably should be for someone as busy as him. You’re already settled under the sheets, the duvet pulled all the way up to your chin as you lay on your back. He comes up to the right side of the bed, checking his phone for a few minutes while standing and rubbing at the back of his neck, then plugs his phone into the charger. He grabs the sheets, about to pull them back, when he pauses and looks at you.

“Are you su-”

“If you ask me if I’m sure about this one more time, I will no longer feel sorry for you, and will make you go sleep on the love-stained couch,” you threaten him.

He grimaces at your choice of words and pulls the sheets back, slipping himself into bed. “Why do you have to put it like that? You’re gross. Also, I’m pretty sure this bed has seen less-than-holy things too.”

The only lighting in the room came from the warm, dim bulb of the night lamp at Gojo’s nightstand. An incredibly awkward silence settles between the two of you. Or maybe it’s just awkward for you, because he seems fine. He’s on his back too, looking up at the ceiling, practically motionless but there’s the faintest sound of his breathing every once in a while and it’s a sound you’ve never heard in such detail before.

He turns his head to you, but you don’t meet his gaze just yet. You shuffle a little bit, hip bumping against his side, elbow hitting his arm. He’s masculine next to you, shoulders hard, muscles heavy, but when you finally turn your head to glance at him and see the expression on his face, you realize that everything about him was rigid—except for the way he was looking at you.

“When did you sneak it in?” he asks.

“Sneak what in?”

“The can of strawberry vanilla soda. Into my bag.”

You swear your heart stills a little in your chest.

“Before,” is all you say to him.

He sighs. “y/n…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to feel bad for me. I wanted you to have it, regardless of how I thought my confession would go,” you assure.

It’s hard to read his expression from the side while he’s looking up at the ceiling, but it’s softer than it was a second ago. The need to change the subject consumes you.

“Why do you have calluses on your fingertips?” you ask him. “You’re a soccer player, you don’t use your hands for anything.”

“I play the guitar,” he replies simply.

You perch yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him with interest. His eyes flicker to your face. “Really?”

“No. I was just kidding. Hate the way you got excited though. I might have to pick up a guitar now.”

“Can you just answer me?” you sigh, flopping down onto your back again.

He laughs a little, a sound you feel like you could get drunk on at this point. He lifts his head up off the pillow enough to tuck his right hand underneath it, then rests it back down. You wish there was a mirror on the ceiling so you could see the flex of his arm. “Coach has us do the rock climbing wall at the gym at least once a week for practice. He thinks it’s a good workout. Causes a hell of a lot of skin tear though.”

“That’s it? That’s the reason?”

“Mhm.”

You shake your head, “You should learn how to play the guitar, because that’s a lame reason to have calluses.”

He lifts his head up off the pillow again and brings the hand that was tucked under his nape to in front of his face and he just looks at it. You look at it too. “Why are you so obsessed with the state of my hands?

“A girl can’t be curious?” you ask.

“They’re not that bad.” You wonder if you’ve made him self-conscious.

You watch the way he flexes his fingers open and then closed. He turns it around, and you can see the veins trailing down from the valleys of his knuckles, disappearing into the fabric of his long sleeve. You remember that party, the two of you in that bathroom, when his hands were all over you, and it’s suddenly a little hard to breathe. He turns his hand again so the palm faces him, but now it’s also slightly turned towards you too.

“They’re bad here,” you say, pointing to his ring finger where you see slight peeling at the tip. The padded skin of your finger touches his skin. “A little bad here, too.” You point to his index finger, careless enough to allow all of your fingers to brush against his this time.

He watches you. “Your hands are really small,” he comments, like it was a marvel to him.

You look over at him briefly, and there’s not a single sign of tension in his face as he observes the image of your hand next to his hand in the air above him. He looked like he was at peace.

“Yours are just big,” you tell him.

He knows he’s not supposed to, and you really shouldn’t have let him, but he interlocks his fingers with yours regardless, holding onto your hand. You feel the roughness of those calluses all across your soft skin. His thumb runs over the curve of your knuckle, almost in a soothing way, like he was trying to apologize to you for something. And this was the only way he knew how.

Something sobers him up, because he suddenly pulls his fingers from yours and drops his hand to the duvet. Your hand lingers in the air for a few seconds before you do the same. And now you’re both awkwardly staring up at the ceiling again.

“Sorry,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” you whisper too.

The silence settles for longer.

He sighs. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says out of nowhere.

“Huh?” you turned your body a little to face him, and he was looking up at the ceiling as if there was something across the texture that he was trying to decipher.

“I don’t want you thinking that the reason I can’t-,” he pauses, to think carefully about his words, “...that the reason I can’t return your feelings is because of you, or anything you’ve done. It’s been a while since I’ve liked anyone to be honest, and I’m just really not looking to date right now.”

You’re hurt by his words. Because even if he didn’t want to date anyone, you thought that he would’ve at least tried to for you. You thought that he had at least some feelings that the two of you could’ve worked off of. “Why don’t you want to date anyone?”

“Reasons.”

“Obviously. What reasons?” you prod. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh. “If it’s something traumatic, I get it. My hamster died in the fourth grade,” you say, “I’ve never known peace since.”

He turns onto his side to face you with a soft and amused smile on his face. “Sorry to hear that. What was your hamster’s name?”

You try not to feel hot from the burn of his gaze and you turn onto your back to look up at the ceiling again. “Mr. Guilmon,” you say.

“Like…guilmon from digimon?

“Mhm.”

“You like digimon?”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch it all the time when I was a kid. My mom wanted to name my hamster ‘Scout’ but I refused,” you tell him, blinking a few times as the memories from your childhood come back to you. A small smile makes its way onto your face.

“I love digimon,” he says, fast, like he couldn’t contain it.

“Really?” you give him a sidewards glance, a little surprised.

He hesitates slightly before sighing, turning over in the opposite direction to reach for his wallet on his nightstand. You feel the fabric of the duvet stretch across you from the movement, and you remember just how intimate this all felt. He’s laying on his back again, holding his wallet up in the air with both hands as he flips it open, then slides his credit card up out of the slot, and shows it to you. Digimon themed. You have to purse your lips together to hold back your laughter.

He turns his head to look at you when you can’t help but let a little noise escape your mouth, and you can see through the laughter-induced sheen of tears in your eyes that he’s frowning.

“Hey–”

“I’m sorry–” you're fully laughing at this point, hand over your mouth to try to contain yourself, “it’s just– oh my god— you’re the last person I would’ve expected to have been such a nerd.”

“I’m not a nerd–” he tries to argue but you snatch the card out of his hand to study it closer, and also to memorize the numbers on the back.

“Popular soccer boy Gojo Satoru,” you’re giggling, “has a custom Digimon credit card.”

When he tries to reach for it, you stretch your arm off to the left. His weight leans on you, chest pressing against the curve of your shoulder, arm extending across you as he tries to grab his card back. “Quit it,” he mutters.

“No,” you say, holding it further to your left, weakly trying to push him away from you.

“Quit it,” he repeats, face scowling now with what looks like embarrassment, and he holds his upper body up by the elbow, leaning over you even more to reclaim it, “or else.”

“Or else, what?” you say through wheezes, and it seems like something in him snaps because suddenly he grabs your wrist, hard, pinning it down onto the mattress, holding it there next to your head, and his entire upper body is towering over you. Shocked, you’re breathing fast, your eyes darting across his face, and he’s looking at you with a furrowed brow and a tense jaw.

“Or else I won’t keep my promise,” he says through a harsh breath, his voice low and rough.

You’re stunned underneath him. “What promise?” you ask, breathlessly.

He leans down closer, to the point where the fringe of his hair brushes against your forehead. “My promise to hold myself back from you.”

You swallow hard, chest heaving. You feel the heat of his hand on your wrist burning through to your veins. You try to squirm slightly in his grip, but he just presses your wrist down further into the mattress.

He glances at your lips, eyes dilated and stern, and leans down even closer to you. “Do you have any idea how bad I’ve been wanting to punish you for leaving me in that bathroom by myself?” he says in a voice so husky you feel the arousal build at your center the second your head registers it.

You can’t find your words. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, as if to make sure yours stay on his too, and you’re docile under him until he’s distracted you enough to pinch his credit card between two of his fingers and discretely pull it out from your grip. He then lets go of your wrist and disappears out of your line of sight when he flops back down onto the mattress next to you, tucking his card back into his wallet.

“But I won’t. Because I’m a nice person, and will respect your space. Or whatever.”

You don’t know what to say, your hand finding a place over your heart as you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

“We should probably go to sleep,” he sighs after a minute, tossing his wallet back onto the nightstand and reaching over to turn off the light.

It’s dark now in the room, the only light coming from through the layered fabrics of the curtains. It's a cold light, possibly from the moon and maybe some dim neighboring white street lights, but it’s enough to where you could still see the slight texture of the ceiling, and maybe his face.

You both spend a few minutes trying to get comfortable. You try not to bump your butt against him, or brush your chest against his arm, but it happens a couple times anyway, and you mentally curse yourself for it. The rise of the duvet fabric from his chest becomes shallow with his breathing, and you think he’s fallen asleep, but then the two of you turn over at the exact same time, facing each other, eyes flying open and gazes meeting. It startles the both of you, but neither of you look away or say a word. The two of you just sit in the moment for what feels like hours, and very could’ve easily been.

You’re the first to break the silence. “You know, there was a time where I thought that you weren’t even real.” You’re speaking hushed, like you’re afraid someone will hear, even though there’s only two souls in this room right now.

“What?” he asks, a slight raise to his eyebrow. “...why.”

“I don’t know. You’re like this urban legend around campus. You probably don’t know it, since you’re in it, but the world you’re in is very different from the world the rest of us students are in.”

He’s silent for a moment, his face being briefly illuminated by the reflection of a car’s headlights on the windows of the surrounding building. “I think I know what you mean.”

You blink at him. “I thought you would have a few more follow-up questions to that, but I guess you’re surprisingly self-aware.”

He hums to himself. “I think I can just put it into perspective.”

“Perspective?” you ask. You’re hanging onto every single one of his words tonight. You don’t want a single one of them slipping through you, not understood.

“Yeah,” he says, “there are moments where I feel like I’m not in that world anymore. And it feels nice. To get out of it.”

You want to ask him when those moments are, but he’s quick to speak again.

“I guess that means I’m aware of the moments where I am in it, so I know that it exists, if that makes sense? I don’t know.” He looks down at your pajamas, at the dancing sloth at the front, and the crease to his brow relaxes slightly.

“Mhm, makes sense.”

His eyes are back on you, studying. There’s a strange look on his face that you can’t really comprehend. “I want to know about your world,” he says.

You breathe in deep, and exhale shallow. “My world is simple. I want to be a filmmaker and then live in a little cottage.”

He smiles at you. “A little cottage?”

“Yeah,” you say, “maybe in the countryside. The Italian countryside. With my own garden in the backyard so I can use fresh zucchini in my salads.”

“Any animals? Pets?” he asks, like he’s envisioning it all in his head too.

“Maybe some chickens,” you say, “I promised Mr. Guilmon I’d name another one of my pets after him someday. I have to keep my promise.”

He nods. “You do.”

There’s another silence, but it doesn’t feel awkward this time.

“Did you turn your photos in to your professor?” he asks.

“Yeah, I did,” you tell him. “Earlier this week.”

“Nice. What about your reference for grad school?”

“I asked him for it.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise. “How’d it go?”

“Mm…I was really nervous, but it went well. He said he’d do it.”

There’s such a tenderness to his expression that you feel so compelled to kiss him right now. “That’s awesome. I’m proud of you. That’s one step closer to your dream.”

You purse your lips together from his words, sitting with the warm feeling in your chest. You want to thank him again, but instead all you say is “we’re even now.”

He lets out a small chuckle. It comes from his throat. “You’ve said that so many times.”

“I know.” Because you can’t believe it’s all over. This little arrangement between the two of you. You don’t want it to be over. “I can’t remember when the first time I said it was.”

“That night,” he answers you fast and with certainty, like it was at the forefront of his mind, “when you drove over rocks. And we sat together on the curb. And I realized how badly you take care of your car. You don’t need thousands of chain restaurant napkins in your glovebox, by the way. No matter how much you might think you do.”

“Wow. I was almost romanced by you for a second, but you ruined it,” you mumble.

You’re instantly taken back to that night. You remember the gentle quality in his eyes as he stared up at the stars, and you can still see the reflection of that sky in his eyes right now with the way he’s looking at you.

“I really liked you that night,” you whisper, “I wish you were like that all the time.”

“Am I not like that all the time?” he asks, voice soft to match yours.

“No,” you say, “sometimes you’re mean.”

His eyes on you are gentle, somewhat careful. “I’m sorry for being mean.”

You wonder if you can change his mind. If you can will him to like you back, if you can will him into wanting a relationship with you. You want to be his exception, not his rule.

“It’s okay. I’m mean sometimes, too,” you say, “mean to myself for sharing a bed with a guy that doesn’t like me.” He’s looking at your lips as you speak. “I’m bad like that.”

“You’re not bad,” is all he says.

“I am,” you say, and you inch closer to him, until there’s hardly any space between the two of you. You look up at him, faces inches away. You feel so safe with him, and yet you also feel scared, because you like him so much that you would let him ruin you if he wanted to. You press a flat palm to his shirt, searching for his heart, and you find that it’s beating fast in his chest. “I’m a bad woman, Satoru.”

“y/n,” he says, like a warning.

“I mean it,” you whisper.

“You said you’d kill me if I touch you,” he reminds you, sounding a little breathless.

“I can’t kill you, you’re way stronger than me,” you whisper, “so touch me.” Your hand is gripping onto the fabric of his shirt now, tight, with desire. He’s looking at you with a whole lot of desire too, but there was something else there as well. “Please.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist–the heat of his touch that you so badly wanted, craved, finally on you–but it’s to pull you away from him. Your grasp on his shirt releases and he brings your hand to the front of your chest, laying it down gently before letting it go. Your wrist lays limp there, missing his touch. Limp in front of your beating heart.

“Let’s just go to sleep, okay?” he says softly.

Your eyes widen when you look at him, and you couldn’t even hide the hurt that settled across your face if you tried. Gaze dropping to his chest, you see the way it was rising with every breath he took, and for the second time in this life, you’ve felt so utterly rejected by him. You give him a compliant nod, and scootch back away from him before turning away. He stays as he is, watching your back, and you can feel his gaze on the nape of your neck.

Counting the minutes to fall asleep felt exhausting, but the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes was the feeling of a tear trickling down onto your pillow, wet and cold against your cheek.

–

You wake up the next morning to an empty bed, and an even emptier feeling heart. There’s also this weird feeling of disappointment within you, and you don’t really know why.

Grabbing your phone on the nightstand, you quickly search for the email with the men’s soccer team practice schedule, and you see that they had a sharp 8am practice this morning before the game in the afternoon. The time reads 6:37am, and you’re wondering where Gojo went so early in the morning before heading off to the practice field.

You went back to sleep for a couple hours, and then woke up again. By the time you took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs to the hotel lobby to eat breakfast, it was already 10:00am and it was time to make it to the field so you could set up and calibrate your camera prior to taking photos for the match. Following Utahime’s gameday instructions, you took a cab to the location with all of your gear.

The Kyoto soccer stadium was less of a stadium and more of an extremely large and open expanse of grass that had enormous silver metal stands stretching across the perimeter. It was something you would expect of an area in the countryside, but security was still somehow tight across the fenced off area.

It was still a couple hours before the game, so the field was bustling with pre-game set-ups and the stands were empty. There were a few sports canopies being put up, as well as a small truck with workers that were working to stock up the hydration stations. A few men in suits were seated at tables with notepads and clipboards, looking busy in conversation and on what sounded like business calls. As you walk down the sidelines, you notice a few other people checking the distances between the goals and the chalk markings across the field. The stands were extremely close to all of the action, and when you look to the right, you see a couple of familiar faces there.

“Ah, y/n! We’re over here.”

You approach the group of three people, all seated on the lowest metal bench of one of the spectator sections. There were a bunch of tripods, cameras, cases, and laptops sprawled across in front of them. You recognize Hana and Minato, but you don’t recognize the other man sitting with them. You had met Hana and Minato at the game against Osaka last week, they were both professional photographers for the newsletter.

Hana hops off the bench and comes up to you. “It’s seriously so cool you’re here with us and that Utahime got you this gig,” she says to you with a smile. “Make sure your schedule is free on nights after matches, all us photographers usually get dinner together afterwards. You’re the baby out of us, so we’ll pay for you.”

You return her smile with one of your own. “That’s sweet, and sure I’ll try to.”

You glance at the man whose name you didn’t know, your gaze meeting his, and soon enough he’s jumping up onto his feet too and making his way over to you.

“Ah, this is Kaito. Kai for short,” Hana says, gesturing to the man, and then to you.

Kai extends his hand out for you to shake. He’s tall and a bit lean. His style is really boyish—totally nailing the street photographer outfit with the white shirt underneath a flannel one, and some Carhartt pants paired with some Vans. You reach out to shake his hand, and he holds onto it for a second longer than you would’ve expected.

“Hi,” you greet him and tell him your name.

“That’s a nice name,” he says with a smile.

Hana claps her hands together. “Okay! We all know each other now, that’s great. We should get started prepping before the players get here, I believe they’re scheduled to be here in an hour.” She walks over to the benches and picks up her digital camera. Minato grabs his as well as his tripod, then walks over to Hana’s side. “The way we usually do it is to split the field into corners, and each of us works that perimeter. The videographers are here too, so just make sure you don’t accidentally knock over or stand in front of one of their cameras.”

All three of you nod at her and you unzip your case to take your film camera out. Kai is next to you, looking at the device in your hands curiously.

“Kai, you can work with y/n for today since it’s her first day. Split up those two corners over there,” Hana says, pointing to the other end of the field. You and Kai look in that direction. “Minato and I will take the other short end.”

With a few more discussions and detailed instructions, the four of you disperse to your assigned locations. You’re a step ahead of Kai, although he should really be the one leading your stride since you’re the new one here, but he soon enough catches up to you.

“Is that a Canon AE-1?” he asks you, pointing to your camera.

You look at him a little surprised. “Yeah, it is. As vintage as they get.”

“Sweet, I used to shoot on film too. Second-hand?”

“No, third. Still cost me an arm and a leg, though,” you sigh.

He laughs. “They’re not that expensive.”

“I’m a broke college student. I sometimes have to choose between paying rent and eating food,” you say to him.

He kicks at a random can on the grass, sending it flying forward, instead of picking it up. “Yeah, definitely don’t miss those days.”

“When did you graduate?” you ask.

“From UTokyo two years ago,” he says.

You bend over to pick up the can he kicked and jog a little to the trashcan nearby, tossing it in, then jog back to him. “That’s nice. You’ve been doing this for two years?”

“Yup,” he says to you as the two of you reach the corner of the field outlined by freshly drawn chalk. He kneels down on the grass, sets his camera case down, and opens it up. Your jaw drops.

“Is that a—Leica camera?” you ask him, shocked.

He smirks up at you. “Sure is.”

“Oh, so you’re just rich, then,” you sit down on the grass to look at it with interest, marveling at its condition.

“Nope. I’ll bet I got it for cheaper than your Canon there,” he points to the camera hung at your neck.

You meet his gaze. “No way.”

“Way,” he says, pulling out the attachable lens before wiping at it with a microfiber cloth, “I know a guy. He sells used cameras. The only issue is you’ve gotta refurbish them yourself.”

You sigh. “Wonderful. Because I would know how to do that.”

He lets out a half-laugh, and you glance up briefly to look at his expression. He was amused. “It’s pretty easy, just gotta do it once. And then you’ll have a used Leica that works brand-new, all for just under a hundred-thousand yen.”

You’re looking at him with surprise again. “That cheap?”

“Yup.”

“Wow…” Your finger plays with the lens cap on your camera.

“If you want, I can send you his info. But if you want to meet up with him, it’ll probably have to be facilitated through me,” Kai says, “He takes clients by recommendation. No use in selling a used camera to an idiot that doesn’t know how to refurbish it. He’s looking for niche photographers that have the interest.”

You press your lips together, considering it. “Sure.”

He hands his phone to you. “Alright, gimme your number.”

You hesitate for a second before typing your number into his contacts then hand it back and watch as he saves it in his phone. “Canon girl. Won’t forget ya.”

The two of you make work for a second, eyeing the field and mapping out angles of where to get the best shots during play. Kai gives you some pointers and you’re marveling at how good they are.

“Not really used to shooting on film anymore,” he mumbles, peering through the hole on your camera when you handed it over to him, “but usually a one over five-hundred shutter speed works well for sports. I’d switch between that and over two-fifty though, to avoid a blurry finish.”

“Thanks,” you say to him, wanting to write all this down to not forget it. “Wish I knew this last week.”

“Why shoot on film?” he asks out of nowhere, handing your camera back to you. “Why not digital?”

“Oh, it’s a personal interest,” you say to him, adjusting your shutter speed as he suggested, “I think there’s a charm to it. I want to be a movie maker, and shoot on film medium.”

He frowns at you. “How are you going to do that?”

You tilt your head at him, shuffling on the grass. “I’m going to apply to the film graduate program at UTokyo to start.”

He laughs at that from where he’s seated across from you. “Really? That’s a waste of your time.”

Your heart sinks a little in your chest from his tone. “Why would it be a waste of my time?”

He turns to face you more directly. “y/n, trust me, I know this career path. Been there, done that. Millions of film majors like yourself always have these big-ass dreams like ‘I want to become a director, I want to do screenplay’ etc., but only one or two of them actually succeed.”

Your shoulders sulk. It’s not the first time you’ve heard those words from someone—your own parents practically recited them word-for-word before you headed off to college—but you had been doing really well all of senior year to ignore that nagging little voice in your head. It was honestly quite triggering to hear it all again right now. “Well, I think I can do it.”

He lets out a short scoff. “You sound real convincing there.” When he catches sight of your upset expression, he straightens his back a little. “My bad. Just trying to look out for you. I’m your senior in this industry. I know my way around these things. Trust me.”

You nod slowly. “I know. Thanks.” Part of you wonders if he’s just projecting.

“Well anyway,” he shrugs, “I think you should just focus on photography for now. It’s the safest career option for you to do.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, wanting to diffuse the conversation.

The two of you disperse to your assigned corners once the stands start to fill with spectators. Shortly after, the players make their introductions onto the field, and you can see Gojo across the field. He’s too far to read his expression, but for some reason when you look at him, that disappointed feeling from this morning comes back to you. You try to push it down and just focus on your task at hand.

UTokyo does well during the match, and Gojo seems to be playing much better than the Osaka game last week, scoring two goals within the first half. There were a couple of times where there were throw-ins near your corner, and you made eye contact with him as he’s breathing heavily, wiping the sweat off his face with his jersey, and every time you look at him, that melancholic feeling washes over you again. UTokyo wins 3-2, the crowd evidently disappointed as they were rooting for their home team, and by the time the disgruntled fans started to clear the stands, the sun was setting over the horizon and the sky was a golden color.

The referees on the field begin to oversee the post-match proceedings with the players. Kai comes around to meet you at your corner, and Hana and Minato arrive there too.

“Hey team! How’d it go?” Hana asks, a little out of breath from her journey over here.

“Went fine,” Kai responds.

“It was a little tricky,” you comment, “but I think my photos came out well.”

Hana nods. “Alright, sounds good. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

Kai and Minato nod, and then all three sets of eyes are on you. You hesitate for a moment, and look off past them to where you see the group of soccer players in conversations with the coaches and referees. You see Gojo standing there, his hands on his hips as he peered across the field, tilting his neck to the side repeatedly, and you realize he had been doing that all match long. That unsettling feeling within you starts to brew once again. “Uh, I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling very well. I think I might just head back to the hotel.”

Hana and Minato nod at you with a concerned expression, while Kai just looks disappointed.

“Okay, well, I hope you feel better,” she says.

You end up taking an Uber back to the hotel in haste, not wanting to run into Gojo or any of the other soccer players after their match, and make it to the room, using the key card that Gojo gave you to get inside. You take a shower to freshen up, and by the time it’s 7pm, you’re starving. You put on a simple outfit and make it downstairs into the lobby of the hotel, about to go peruse the nearby dining options, but right when you step out of the elevator, you run into Gojo.

There’s a look of pleasant surprise on his face and you take in his appearance. He was still wearing his soccer jersey, covered in grass and dirt stains, and his face was slightly flushed from exertion. You figured he just came back from the field.

“Hey,” he says, “sorry, I was just about to head over there.” He jerks his head off towards the lobby, and you glance in that direction. There was a group of maybe thirty people gathered around the lounging areas and high-tables over at the business suite, and you recognize them as UTokyo’s soccer players, along with Coach Yaga and other team staff. The players were still all clad in their uniforms, carrying all their stuff, and there were plays of today’s game rerunning across the TV screens. You realize they’re probably prepping for interview questions for tomorrow’s conference.

“Oh, please, go ahead,” you say to him.

He tilts his head at you. “Are you doing alright?”

You were aware that things might feel awkward after last night, and that your cheeks would probably feel hot like they do now the next time you had to talk to him. Your mind takes you back to the memories, when you think about how badly you wanted him to stay with you in the room because of that hollow feeling in your chest from missing him, despite how you knew it was bad for you. Because this man standing in front of you doesn’t like you in the way that you like him.

And then it clicks. The reason for that feeling of disappointment you’ve had since the moment you woke up today.

When you glance up at Gojo this time, you see him differently than you had from a second ago. You finally notice the slight dark circles under his eyes, and figure out that the reason he’s been tilting his neck to the side all day was because he was trying to stretch out a kink. You vaguely recall that moment you woke up in the middle of the night, and your sleepy brain registered that there was no longer the dip of him in the mattress next to you.

“When did you leave the room?” you ask him. You know your voice is quiet when he has to lean down a bit to hear you.

He takes his time answering, indulging in a few breaths. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you say, starting to sound hostile, “you left during the night, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it.

“You left once I fell asleep,” you say, eyes widening with realization.

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Where did you go to sleep?” you ask, trying to keep your tone level.

“Suguru’s room had an extra couch. I pushed them together.”

You felt sick and sad, feeling something worse than rejection right now. There was a part of you that still thought that all of this from him was just a joke. A prank. That he was finally going to say just kidding, I like you too. The reason you’ve been so disappointed since the minute you woke up today was because there was a part of you that thought you were going to wake up this morning with his arms wrapped around you, back pressed tight to his chest while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear of how much he likes you, of how much he wants you, of how much he wants to be with you.

“Why? Even after I said I didn’t want you to have bad sleep?” Your voice was laced with hurt. You didn’t even know how to explain to him why it upset you, because deep down you’re scared it isn’t even valid.

“It’s fine,” he says, “I played fine today. And we won.”

“You could’ve stayed. Do you really hate me that much?” Your words are shooting to kill now. “So I’m good enough to finger in a bathroom at a frat party, but not good enough to sleep next to?”

He furrows his brow. “I don’t understand why we’re arguing about this,” he says, tone starting to match yours, “you’re the one that wanted space. I was just trying to respect that.”

“If you really wanted to respect my space, you wouldn’t have agreed to share the bed with me in the first place.”

“y/n,” he says, “that’s not fair.”

“You should’ve known better.” You’re breathing fast, tone searingly accusive. “You know that I’m trying to get over you, and that I’m vulnerable, and that I’m probably confused about a lot of things right now.”

“I ask if we could at least be friends, you say no because it’d be some recipe for disaster, then you practically beg me to stay with you and tell me to touch you while we’re laying down together. You don’t think that’s confusing for me too?” he counters.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory of your desperate actions last night, and he instantly looks apologetic. You feel like you’re being unfair, but you feel like he’s being unfair too.

“I’m the one with feelings,” is all you say in your defense.

He swipes at his chin roughly with the back of his hand, smudging the dirt up to his cheek, and then closes his eyes for a second, like the weight of today has finally hit him all at once. He looks exhausted. “Right,” he says, softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Yo, Satoru!” one of his teammates yells from the center of the lobby. “Coach needs you, man.”

He rubs a hand down his tired face then throws a haphazard glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he calls out and then looks back at you. You can’t make eye contact with him, and just stare at the print on his jersey instead. “I’ll sleep in Suguru’s again tonight. The room is yours.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel like you’re about to cry. “Okay.”

He reaches into his shorts pocket and gives you a room card. “Here’s the spare. I don’t need to come grab my stuff for the night, so don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

He sounds like he wants to say more, and you see him take a small step towards you, hand reaching out for you, but this time Coach Yaga’s stern voice is calling out to him too. He sighs. “Good night.”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

He hesitates before he turns on his heel and you watch his back, with that signature #10 stretched across the fabric of his uniforn, as he jogs through the hotel lobby to his teammates.

The walk back to the hotel room is depressing, and you find yourself dragging your feet all the way there. Once you make your way inside, you look around at the room and see some of Gojo’s belongings scattered around, but it didn’t seem like there were any of his essentials. You look down at the spare key card in your hand–a promise from him that he won’t try to upset you anymore tonight–and that lump in your throat from earlier comes back.

You hated fighting with him. You hated being away from him. Those feelings that you thought would go away just as fast as they came still sat so stubbornly within your heart, and it was becoming impossible to bear.

You wonder if meeting him was all just some horrible, twisted mistake.

Before you have time to dwell on that sad sentiment, your phone screen lights up with a message.

|| 7:52pm unknown number: kinda sucks you’re not here with us. was looking forward to showing you more of my camera

|| 7:53pm unknown number: this is kai by the way

The features of your face feel heavy as you look down at your phone screen. You don’t even notice your eyes are teary until you realize the blur of your vision makes it hard to see the letters as you type out a response.

You just wanted a distraction from all this pain.

|| 7:54pm you: can you send me the address? i wanna be there

a/n. grrrr i love a one-bed trope so much grrrrrrrrr it's gonna do it for me every damn time lol. thanks a bunch for reading!! there's still so much that i've got planned for the series haha i think the second half is gonna be a lot crazier than the first. super excited to write it though. by the way! i'm starting a choso x reader zombie au series, if you'd like to read more about it and/or be added to the taglist, you can reply to this post here also if you want to be added to taglist in general, i'd recommend making sure your tags are on!! since i've noticed a lot of people have them off

➸ take me to chapter nine!

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd (hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

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shrenvents · 5 days

Text

Professor Howlett

Warnings: Minors dni, smut, no protection, fingering, vaginal, doggy, pet names, squirting, age gap (legal!)

Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Student (Mutant) reader

Summary: Your history professor always seemed uninterested in you, that was until you missed his class.

Word count: 2.6k

…

Throughout high school I’ve always kind of stood out. To be honest, I only have myself to blame. Bright colours and statement pieces are just so much more appealing, than wearing something ‘plain.’ Unfortunately, I did more than just “stand out” that day, just three weeks away from senior graduation. That fateful day, I was so close to the finish line, before my stupid ex-boyfriend discovered my secret, and outed it to the entire student body.

That I’m a mutant…

That was what led me across the coast, for most of the past year, running from god knows what. I heard the stories of mutants being hunted and gone missing, and I didn’t intend to stick around long enough, that I wouldn’t at least make it to my 20th birthday.

However, my days of swindling folks of cash and food came to a halt, when I spotted a man with red-tinted glasses watching me. His invested gaze observed my every movement, so I grabbed all my shit, and the last bit of petty change I managed to get, and sprinted into a crowd.

Just as I thought I was in the clear, my face collided with a colossal, firm chest. I pressed the heels of my palms into it, and felt the cotton of his white shirt, and the rough, yet smooth texture of his worn-in, leather jacket.

Logan Howlett, or should I say, Mr. Howlett, my history Professor... After he and Scott captured me, they dragged me by the ankles to their school for the “gifted.” I cringed when they said where we were headed, but once I arrived and saw all the kids, like me, going about their lives, free, I knew everything would be more than okay.

And one thing I knew for sure, is that I wouldn’t mind attending Mr. Howlett’s class. Did I know shit about history, yes. But I’ve always had a thing for the older guy, and from what I’ve heard, he’s more than enough in that department.

...

This morning, racing out of my room, I swore profusely at my tardiness... Just my luck. The one day that week I get to see and listen to Logan talk for an hour straight, my alarm malfunctions.

Multitasking between attempting to tie my hot-pink heels, wrapping my sparkly bag over my shoulder, and shutting my door, I missed the approaching figure behind me.

“It’s past 11 am, where do you think you’re headed?” I swivel on my toes, spinning to face Storm. “Class?”

“The only class you have left today kid, is at 2. You’ve managed to miss the rest already,” she scolds flatly.

“Noooo,” I fake astonishment and defeat, as I slowly back away from Storm's scrutinizing stare. She calls my name after I’ve taken at least two large steps backward. “Logan wants to see you,” she states, exasperated.

“Oh?” I straighten out, stopping my next step short. “Ok!” I exclaim, a little too perky. She huffs a faint smirk and walks off, and I take flight, zooming to Logan’s class, where he’s most likely dozed off.

Lo and behold, after knocking once and receiving no response, I open the door to see him snoring. With his legs fully extended, and feet resting on his desk, I bask in his lengthy physic. I giggle and then go towards him.

Mr. Howlett?” I say, clearing my throat loudly, he grunts in his sleep and I smile. “Mr. Howlett?” I say even sweeter. A second later, I swear he mumbles my name and my heart stutters, but he’s still sleeping. I move in closer to his ear. “Logan,” I announce rigidly, and my change in tone makes him flinch, legs falling off the table, eyes popping open.

He rasps my name, voice echoing through the classroom. I refused to move away from my position, wanting to seem unaffected by him, but I was anything but. With his lazy eyes roaming over my skin, my heart races wildly. He clears his throat, and rolls his eyes away after taking in my attire, as he usually does —gives me a once-over, and rolls his eyes back to his focus on his lecture.

“You missed class, that isn’t like you,” he notes, almost to himself.

“Yes and I’m sorry-“

“I hope it wasn’t because you were too busy picking that outfit.” Logan scoffs and my eyes widen. He’s always made snarky comments, and this wasn’t anything new, but every time he does, I can’t help the boiling feeling in my lungs, that makes me rise to defend myself. “No, maybe I just felt like sleeping in?” I declare. A short-lived chuckle escapes him. “And you’re just gonna admit to that?” He smirks as he faces me. “I don’t like kids skipping my class.”

“First off, I’m an adult, second, you don’t care when kids skip your class,” I retort, with a growing smile, beaming across my face. Though, his complimentary smile, drops as mine comes to full form. He’s never seemed fond of my smile, or maybe it’s just me.

“You don’t skip my class.” He states once again, and my head quirks in confusion. “Um, I’m sorry?” I compromise, “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” He remarks dangerously. My brows furrow.

“Okay, I don’t get why it matters so much to you Mr. Howlett.” I place my hands on my hips, gazing down at him in his chair like I'm reprimanding a child. Which he is not akin to.

He lifts from his chair, standing up. I gasp as he towers over me. “Watch your tone, or I’ll fail ya,” he counters, fighting a smirk, staying stoic. “What?” I yelp and his smirk breaks through. My jaw goes slack. “Mr. Howlett, that’s not funny!”

“What’s not funny, is you pretending like calling me 'Mr. Howlett,' doesn’t turn you on.”

I freeze in disbelief. Was this one of my daydreams? Am I really awake right now?

“You heard me, you damn highlighter,” he asserts. “Call me Logan for fucks sake, if you’re a damn adult.” His scratchy voice loses its humour, and I stay frozen to the spot. “Get outta here, would ya,” Logan orders as he leisurely retakes his seat, getting comfortable for his next nap.

Unable to drag myself away, my eyes refocus on the subject of my desires. “Why do I have such a thing for assholes.”

Before Logan can respond angrily, I sit on his lap, dropping my purse to the floor, and straddling his hips. I cup his perplexed face and crash our mouths together, moulding them into one. He grunts in surprise as if he didn’t expect me to retaliate, as if he didn’t expect that I would want him this way.

He half-heartedly pulls away between kisses, whispering my name in small protests, but he gets muffled by my lips and grinds on his lap. Quickly, his objections turn into fierce groans. He takes my hips into his hands, tightly gripping into my flesh as he pushes me back, onto his desk. I whimper as his crotch stays glued to my core, even as we move. One hand then moves from my hip to my neck, holding it, then slowly sliding to my jaw, grasping it in a hungry, pressing kiss. His tongue laps my mouth, completely dominating me, and I struggle to breathe.

Just as I’m about to pull away to comment on how desperate he seems, his other hand flips me over with ease. My stomach is now on top of his desk, his crotch, like iron against my ass, and his hands trace down from my shoulder blades, to my bum. With my head hung over the desk, I pant, practically drooling.

“You’re asking for detention pinky,” he mutters, and I respond by pushing back into his hard cock. “I'm a sucker for extra attention teach,” I mention, as sensually as I could muster. He chuckles lowly, and I shudder. The pressure of his dick doesn’t change, and his hands continue their unhurried venture of me. “You like attention sweets?” Logan questions softly. His tone makes me shiver and whimper, yet again. “I like yours.”

“Just mine?” He questions darkly, telling me he doesn’t actually want any opposition. “Yes,” I whisper.

His voice drops an octave as he swears, rolling his hips into me once. I moan loudly. “Shhhh princess, you tryna alert the entire building?” He asks with amusement evident. I shake my head, no, and he laughs by my ear as he dips down. “Good, because I don’t like sharing your attention,” he says passively. “And I’d like to be the only ‘asshole,’ that gets to see what’s under these ridiculous clothes.”

“Hey!” I object meekly. I feel him smile as he leans away from my ear, and I turn my head over my shoulder to watch him peer down at where our bodies meet. “You probably want me to fuck you on this desk.” He speaks as though I’m not there to hear him. “Ya probably want to be taken here so that every time you’re sitting in my class, you can vividly imagine me deep inside you.” He trails off as his hand pushes up my shirt, touching my lower back.

“But we can’t do that,” he sighs hoarsely.

“Why?” My reply is so quick that I grimace.

“Because, if we did, I’d be hard every time I’m in this fucking room, and that isn’t the smartest idea.” I moan at his crudeness and gasp when he pecks my naked spine, just below my bra clip. “Even your lingerie is pink huh?” He laughs smoothly. “Imagined it would be.” My legs rub together instinctively at his words.

“You imagined it?”

He pauses. “Hell yeah I did, though I tried to fight it,” he muses in between a groan. “It didn’t take me long to figure you wanted this too, princess,” he murmurs pleasantly.

After a long beat of silence and a little grinding, I speak up. “So now what? If you’re not going to make love to me here.”

He slowly pushes the hair over my face, behind my ear, tilting my head to face him just a bit. He then leans down and kisses me on the cheek.

“I’ll come to you,” is all Logan says as he reluctantly wrenches himself from me, after giving my ass cheek a mild slap. I yelp and nearly pout at the loss of touch. We hold eye contact as he backs away. “Get going, otherwise you’ll be late,” he comments airily. I nod and scurry out the room, with a grin plastered on my face.

...

After a long, vigorous rest of the day. I collapse into my plushy bed with a sigh.

“Took you long enough,” a dark voice rings, with a hint of familiar sass. I jolt up to see Logan leaning on my wardrobe. His tight shirt is only more strained as his arms cross. “Been waiting to ‘make love' to ya all day,” he claims, with a mocking tone, repeating my "childish" words from earlier. My best guess is that he assumes I’m a virgin.

So, in an attempt to remedy my reputation, sitting up on my bed, with my arms bracing my figure, I slowly spread my bent legs. I bite my bottom lip, and his eyes shift down and blacken. “Get on with it then, Logan.” I roll my tongue as his name teasingly leaves my mouth. His head twitches in an almost feral manner, and I gulp.

“You’re asking for it,” is all he mumbles before pouncing on me. Our limbs tangle and I moan as his leg presses into my clothed clit. “Please,” I just about sob, to which he responds with an aggressive kiss and another crushing rub of his thigh. I moan louder, and he grunts, “You like that?” I push my hands into his hair, running my fingers through his thick locks. He lets out a coarse groan.

Loving how vocal he is, I decide to encourage him by groping his cock over his rugged jeans. “Fuck, baby,” he groans out when his mouth leaves mine. He then runs his tongue over my neck and collar, soon nibbling on my earlobe. His thigh continues to make work of me, and I match his pace. “You're so dirty,” he grins while his nose brushes my rosy cheek, and then he's kissing me. “I love it,” he professes with amusement, again, coating his tone.

Just as I begin undoing his belt, he flips me over on my stomach like before. Then, when I'm lying flat underneath him, he grabs my hips, to lift them towards his crotch as he kneels above. “I better see a pink thong,” he jokes as he strips me bare. He groans in satisfaction as I’m left in just my underwear for his viewing. “Unreal,” Logan practically purrs.

I wiggle my ass playfully, and he growls and smacks it harder than he did in his classroom. I squeal into my pillow, briskly going quiet when I hear his belt being ripped from the loops of his denim. Leaving my underwear in place, he runs his digits over the lace, making me whine, "Logan."

With his name on my tongue, it shortly turns into a cry as the lace covering my clit gets moved to the side, and two meaty fingers dive into me. "Shit, princess," he rasps. "How am I gonna fit?" He asks rhetorically, and I choke a sob, as he wastes no time building up an energetic pace, with his fingers.

He swiftly tears an orgasm from my trembling body, still holding my hips up with one hand. When his fingers leave, I hear his mouth clean them, and I swing my head to face him hastily, but he shoves my head back into my pillow. "So eager," he more or less snickers.

"Very," my smothered voice emits, barely audible.

I nearly shriek when his tip swipes my wet slit. Logan, without notice, suddenly pushes himself inside me, with an agonizing slowness, but I quietly persist. "Atta girl, that's it," he lazily groans out encouragements. My hands pathetically slide onto his thighs, unsure if I'm urging him for more, or begging for discretion.

At once, he shoves himself in all the way, and I let out an extensive sigh. His palm, which was just holding down my head, joins his other hand on my abandoned hip. He lets out various curses, along with my name, and begins to move, in and out. Soon enough, he's pounding into me at a savage rate, completely untamed. As well, it seems purposeful, how he simultaneously bends down to growl and moan in my ear, still thrusting.

He stirs another orgasm, still notably, not experiencing his own. "You look real pretty like this princess," he begins to ramble. "Gonna do this every fucking day." The rest of what he says gets lost in translation, as I grow overwhelmed and overstimulated.

Thoughtlessly, I try to crawl away while he still has my lower half hoisted up. Once Logan realizes what I'm up to, my pitiful effort has him laughing. "Where ya going?"

"Lo, it's too much-"

"Lo? Call me that again, it's cute," he hums.

"No more," I whimper, ignoring him.

"Just one more baby," Logan coos, while somehow increasing his pace, making me cum instantly, squirting a little. His moan rumbles in his chest, and he doesn't stop hammering into me. I grip my headboard, and one of his arms stretches alongside mine, to do the same.

When he cums, his grip snaps the wood, breaking a part of the headboard, making me shout in between sobs. He seems to not notice the damage, too busy finishing on my backside.

After a long minute, he slumps his large frame beside me. One of his arms stays drifting across my skin as his eyes intently coast over my features. "Maybe consider skipping my class more often," Logan expresses as his lips slightly tip upward. He presses his lips onto my shoulder. I smile, giggling, "Why?"

"Cause it doesn’t matter where I fuck you, there's nowhere I won't get hard looking at that pretty face of yours," he smiles dreamily, "And you're impractical wardrobe.”

I guffaw, "You truly have a way with words," I pause and smirk, "Mr. Howlett."

He rises onto his elbow with a devilish grin, "Now you're really asking for it princess."

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whenlilyfallsinlove · 17 days

Text

amortentia

fred weasley x ravenclaw reader. this is a quite short one sorryyyy!!

"AND CAPTAIN L/N HAS THE QUAFFLE, SHE SHOOTS AND SHE GETS PAST WOOD. SHE SCORES. 10 POINTS TO RAVENCLAW." lee jordan's dejected voice was heard from his commentating box.

you smile to yourself. you were captain of the ravenclaw quidditch team and you were absolutely determined to win the quidditch cup. you knew it was probably unlikely, gryffindor had harry potter who was a magnificent seeker, but secretly you thought your seeker cho was just as good.

"SAMUELS. INGLEBEE. BE RUTHLESS. THE WEASLEYS ARE!! STOP BEING POLITE." you order your beaters, to which they rolled their eyes but listened none the less.

fred weasley, one of the gryffindor beaters and someone you'd say you had a "playful rivalry" with, heard you say this.

"i knew you loved me really l/n." he shouted, smiling and then aiming a bludger at you.

you expertly dodged it and caught the quaffle from burrow, another chaser.

"you wish weasley." you zoomed past him and chucked the quaffle into the hoop.

"L/N SCORES AGAIN, ANOTHER TEN POINTS TO RAVENCLAW." lee shouted.

"i thought your team was supposed to be good, weasley." you smirk at him.

"shut up." fred scowls at you, and you grin.

your chat was however disrupted by harry potter, the gryffindor seeker, casting a patronum spell.

you turn to see some slytherin 3 years laying on the floor, gasping. you chuckle at the sight.

what you don't laugh at, however, is harry holding up the snitch, ending the match. gryffindor had won.

"i thought your team was supposed to be good l/n." fred mocked you.

"shut up." you flew back to the rest of your team, probably to give them a speech.

you were quite in awe at the patronus charm harry had produced, so you went over to him, whilst he was, no doubt, being praised by his teammates.

"good game wood." you look at the gryffindor captain.

"good game l/n." he nods back at you.

"you're not here to attack us, are you? for winning? ravenclaw can't win all the time, you know." fred asks you.

you roll your eyes playfully.

"whatever, i'm actually here to speak to harry. your patronus spell was incredible! how did you even do that?!" you smile at him, which catches fred off guard.

"o-oh uhh t-thank you, professor lupin taught me." harry blushed, not used to the female attention.

"it was brill." you gave him another smile.

"flirting with potter won't change the result of the match, love." fred smirked at you.

"i'm not.. you know what." you shake your head and walk back to you own team, not before you immaturely stuck your tongue out at fred before you left.

"unbelievable" fred muttered, but he was smiling.

"just admit you fancy her, mate." george nudged him

"never."

over the next week, you kept your head down, keeping a low profile, like you always did when you lost a match. you had a competitive nature, so of course you were annoyed.

you weren't looking forward to potions. sure you were good at it, but snape infuriated you. and you also shared a class with the gryffindors. fred weasley would be there, your "enemy". you groaned to yourself.

as you arrived, late, may you add, resulting in 10 points off ravenclaw, you had realised snape was putting people in pairs for the potions you'd be making.

"jordan and george weasley, johnson and spinnet, l/n and-"

you waited for whoever snape was going to pair you with.

"fred weasley."

"for godrics sake." you frowned. just your rotten luck.

you moved next to him, avoiding eye contact.

"we meet again" fred smirks.

"seems like you can't get enough of me." you respond.

"i-" his words were cut off by snape.

"today, we are going to be brewing amortentia. l/n, what is amortentia?"

"the most powerful love potion in the world, it's supposed to smell differently for every wizard." you respond.

"smart-arse" fred nudges you.

you roll your eyes, but you were smiling.

"quite vague, but correct l/n. it is the most powerful love potion in existence. you are all going to be brewing it today." snape instructs, and leaves you to work.

"weasley, get the pearl dust." you say, beginning to pour the ingredients already out in the cauldron.

"on it." he salutes and winks at you.

you shake your head and continue to work. when fred comes back, you are surprised in how much you were getting on.

"thats time up." snape points to you and fred. "you two, what can you smell?"

"i smell... i smell.. i don't bloody know, y/n move away from me, all i can smell is your shampoo." he frowned at you.

"don't be ridiculous, let me have a go.." you smell your potion.

"right fred, shift, your cologne is overbearing, it's all i can smell." you sigh.

the other students laugh, realising what was happening.

"that's all i need." you could've sworn you saw a hint of a smile on snape's face.

oh. oh. you had smelt fred in your amortentia. no way. you couldn't have. this was insane. but.. it made sense.

"looks like you fancy me l/n." fred grins, but you could see him blushing slightly.

"i think you're the one that fancies me." you respond, with a small smile.

he shakes his head.

"you caught me... look do you want to go to hogsmeade on saturday? i promise i won't tease you about us beating you."

and to your surprise, you found yourself saying yes.

#x reader #fanfic #short #fluff #enemies to lovers #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #weasley twins #harry potter #harry potter x reader #snape #potions #amortentia

268 notes · View notes

ch4nb4ng · 1 year

Text

Stress relief

Pairing: afab!reader x Chan

Word count: 4.5k

Genre: friends to lovers

Warnings: Kissing, mentions of gentalia, handjob, tit job (?), praise, creampie

Note: idk if anyone is actually going to read this because I haven't posted in like 10 months so yeah but rusty but genuinely enjoy writing this so much

Summary: You were a great student, and Chan was struggling, bad. This is what happened when you tried to reduce his stress by 'studying.'

Time was nothing but a mindless construct for you and the many young individuals that attended college. Prestigious or not, it was deep into the second semester of your second year, and if you had to look at one more textbook about a specification type of referencing, you were going to explode.

Being a psychology major was something you had worked toward for a long time. Having a job that nurtured people back to optimal health and wellbeing was something that always felt nice on the tip of your tongue. Nice to tell people, nice to give to people. That didn’t mean it did not come with its challenges. Researching, literature reviews, group assignments… It was hard and enduring work.

It was helpful that by the end of the first year you had discovered others on the same greuling yet rewarding path. Having a decent support system was essential, especially when traveling to the other side of the world to study. The 4 boys and two girls, who would be named Felix, Changbin, Hyunjin, Chan, Mina and Lia would be the be all and end all for you. Crying together, partying together, doing everything together. Traveling to South Korea was difficult at first. Adapting to the culture and language, so having them by your side got you to where you were today. Life is stressful currently, but then again, things could be worse.

“Okay class, this is the last class for the semester, so if you have any questions, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

You listened eagerly, wanting to pick up on any tips or tricks necessary to ace the exam. Cognitive psychology was a piece of cake to you, so this exam was in the bag. The others… not as much. Changbin and Felix were pretty good, thanks to Lia helping them every other day, and Mina only liked to study alone, got too distracted by the lot of you which to be fair, isn’t hard. You were a loud group. Most of the time you studied on your own as well, the occasional time with Felix if he was bored or needed to catch up on notes from readings (and by catching up on notes, basically just stealing yours). But most of your time was spent with Chan. He was good, but always needed a little bit of extra help. He was kind of whisked into psychology, not really sure what he wanted to do. Therefore, Chan had little to no background before coming into the degree.

“Ms, is Piaget theory required for this exam?”

“Tsk, yes Chan,” she replied, much disdain to her tone, “have you not been listening to anything for the past 6 weeks?”

Tiny giggles permeated through the room after the professor's sarcastic response. It made your skin crawl, and not in a good way. It was quite rude if anything. Chan laughed it off as well. He was the type to just laugh things off, but you could tell on his face that he was nothing but serious when asking his question. His ears began to turn red, sinking into his chair simultaneously.

Luckily the bell rang, and you had never seen someone zoom out of a classroom as fast as Chan did. You chase after him, wanting to make sure he was okay and not feeling completely humiliated. It felt like a marathon, you were very much out of breath by the time you caught up to him. Slapping a hand on his shoulder, he turned around, the unintentional force causing him to face you.

“Jesus christ Chan,” you stumbled, completely out of breath, “why did you have to run so fast?”

You looked, a weak chuckle coming from his lips, a single tear simultaneously dripping out of the corner of his eyes. Your smile faded, beginning to feel really bad for your poor friend.

“Sorry Y/n,” he whispered, wiping it away quickly with the sleeve of his hoodie, “you’ve caught me at a bad time.”

You motioned to the bench next to you, sitting next to him as you rubbed his back in circular motions. Chan was such an intelligent individual, it made you feel sorrow when he doubted himself, and this was one of those moments.

“Oh Chan don’t even worry about that,” you cooed, “she’s been rude all semester, definitely had a stick up her ass or something because I have no idea what her problem is.”

That made him giggle, turning to you and grabbing your hand as a silent thank you.

“Yeah you're right aha. I’m really struggling with the cognitive stuff though, and I have no idea how I’m going to do this exam.”

The other, who moved at a normal, not heart attack inducing pace, finally caught up to the two of you,lips pouted and solemn as they noticed Chan was having a down moment.

“Aw Chan it’s ok,” Felix hummed, giving him a bright smile, “we will all help you, promise.”

“Yeah,” Changbin chimed in, “let’s have a study session at Chan’s, tomorrow, 3pm good for everyone?”

Everyone nodded in agreement, you and Chan following behind the rest. He grabbed your wrist, making you stop in your tracks, “Y/n, could you come an hour earlier? Just so I don’t sound like a complete idiot? Also, they’re kind of hard to keep up with. I like the way you explain things.”

You’d be lying if you said the skin on your arm was burning up. He didn’t know, too innocent to realize, but his praise had an effect on you, one too many times. You would like nothing more than to take care of him, in all the ways anyone could imagine. Wash his clothes, feed him an insurmountable quantity of food. Was his hair in the shower, lather his body in soap and just, well, you know. The chiseled state of his body was no secret. The many beach trips accounted for that. Chan was a very good looking man, one of the first things you noticed when Felix introduced you to his friends. However, it was something that you suppressed deep down. A romance was the last thing you needed.

Your cheeks follow a similar temperature. The thought almost made you dizzy. You blinked a couple of times, coming back to your senses and not trying to look out of the ordinary.

“Uh yes,” you shrieked, the attempt to act normal utterly dismissed, “of course. Anything to help you out.”

You continued to walk together, a million thoughts running through your mind as you attempted to keep them subtle, failing to rope them in and keep them at a minimal level.

To describe you as nervous was an understatement. Your hairbrush ran through your hair in a frustrating manner. You felt stupid, ridiculous even. If you had a dollar for every time you went to Chan’s dorm, you would be a millionaire, why did this time feel different? Looking at yourself in the mirror, you sighed, putting the last touches of your makeup before grabbing your keys and walking across campus, heading to your ‘friends’ door.

A gentle couple of knocks was all it took for you to be greeted by your handsome friend. His hair was swept back, forehead showing. His outfit was casual, black hoodie, black tracksuit pants. It was nothing different to what he usually wore, but he looked ten times hotter than usual.

“Y/n,” he groaned, “thank god you’re here.”

He dragged you inside, closing the door behind you. He began to pace back and forth, biting on his fingernails simultaneously.

“Chan slow down, what’s wrong?”

“I opened the textbook, and I can’t stop freaking out. Y/n I’m so stressed, why are you not pacing with me?”

“Because,” you laughed, gripping his forearms stopping him in his tracks, “by the end of the day, you will understand Piaget, and every other theory we need before the exam, okay?”

You were close, eyes piercing as you gave him a loss of reassurance. You weren’t sure if it was your mind playing tricks on you, but it felt like Chan was moving closer. His eyes began to bore into yours, holy fuck he was hot.

You broke away, not wanting to misinterpret anything. Taking a seat on his couch, you picked up his textbook, scanning and analyzing what he was trying to understand. Chan sat right next to you, thigh distractingly touching yours as you attempted to read. You could feel his gaze over his shoulder. The smell of his cologne flowing into your nostrils, becoming intoxicating. Your frustration began to increase. You knew that you were being unreasonable, but it was like he was trying to seduce you. You were already out of your mind, and nothing in the slightest of being sexual had occurred.

“Chan, I can hear your breathing down my neck.”

“Oh,” he moved away, “sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you sure?”

“What?”

You put the textbook down, turning your body to face him. The look of concern on his face, like the one you were met with when you opened the door had not disappeared. A look of disapproval now on yours.

“Can you please talk to me?”

“What do you want to know?”

“What exactly is stressing you out?”

A large sigh escaped his lips,

“I just feel like I’m failing. I had to convince my parents to live here instead of Australia, and I just feel like I’m not living up to what they expected.”

Your heart sank at his words. You sat there for two minutes of silence. You weren't sure what you could say that would be perfect and what he needed to hear, but it didn’t mean you wouldn’t attempt to.

“Chan I-”

“And I have other needs as well.”

At first you were confused, completely unsure of what he referred to. Your mind was ticking once again, rummaging to what he referred to. But when it came to your mind, your eyes widened, mouth dropping before you spoke.

“Oh, I get what you mean.”

“Yeah.”

Another couple of minutes of silence passed as you looked around, refusing to make eye contact with each other. An idea popped into your mind, but it was way too inappropriate to ask. You wanted to help him so badly though, a proposition if you will. It was such a fine line to cross. It really was inappropriate, but the innocent look on his face was triggering something in you, sparking your innermost fantasies and desires.

You don’t know what took over or what in your right mind possessed you to do what you did next, but time moved and all of a sudden you were on top of Chan, arms wrapped around his neck as you looked down at him, like a predator hunting his prey.

“You know, I can help you if you want?”

A large gulp was evident as it paced down his throat. He wasn’t sure what to say, him now analyzing if he himself was being too inappropriate to take you upon your proposition. His hands spread across your rear, gently nudging you forward. He was in unfamiliar territory, not sure how to proceed.

“Did you mean with studying or, you know, my needs?”

The look you gave him was priceless. It was amazing how genuinely oblivious Chan was sometimes. You got up from his lap, saying nothing and walking towards his room. He followed, closing the door behind him, even though nobody else was home.

“Sit on the bed.”

He did as he was told, legs spread wide at the edge. He always sat like this, and it turned you on, every single time. Chan, without knowing it, just looked so cocky, so arrogant, and fuck, did you used to like arrogant men. The ironic thing was that he was the complete opposite. Smart, kind, generous and warm to others. He was probably the only guy that you met that had all the qualities you looked for.

But that was irrelevant now. This moment wasn’t about how likable he was, it was about how hot he was. You took two steps closer, lifting your arms above your head and discarding your shirt. You could hear the audible gasp that escaped his lips, stunned by the way your chest looked. You did not assume that this would happen, therefore the reason why you had no bra on. You stood there, chest inline with his face as he watched you with so much intent. The way he was taking you in, drinking you up like a crisp, refreshing beverage. Chan, not a complete virgin, had little experience. He was a hard worker, never giving into his temptations. If anything, it kind of explained why he was so intense ¾ of the time. Nevertheless, it made your insides throb the way he gazes at you like you were the most beautiful woman on earth.

“If you don’t want this, talk now.”

You waited for what felt like 5 hours, but was really thirty seconds before he shook his head, vigorously. The notion made you smirk. His eyes remained wide, focusing nothing but the curve of your boobs. He went to lift his shirt, thinking it would be the right thing to do seeing as you were half naked yourself. But you said no,grabbing his wrists and placing them on your own zipper. His fingers gently shadowed yours, the sound of the zip the only noise filling the room. Stepping out of them quickly, simultaneously pulling your underwear off as well, another gasp escaped his lips. You were now fully nude, him fully clothed. There was something sick to you about getting off at the fact he was fully dressed and you were the opposite.

“Like what you see?”

“Mhm,” he gulped once more, “really, really beautiful.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but that wasn’t the time for this. Dropping to your knees, your fingers began to fiddle with the drawstring of his own bottoms. It did take long, seeing as Chan liked to wear very baggy clothes. They came off in one swift motion, spreading his legs even farther apart so you could fit right in. He was already extremely hard, the sight of your tits getting even near his cock made him twitch. Looking up at him, his chest was visibly tense, like he was holding in a large breath.

It wasn’t until your hand gripped the base of his length, and you started pumping, was when his chest fell deeply, almost concave in. His facial expression still looked tense, however, you could tell it wasn’t a look of agony, it was quite the opposite. A small whine escaped from his lips when you added another hand, adding more friction to his cock and you began to pump him a little faster.

“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath, too embarrassed to allow you to hear his satisfaction. The muscles in his legs and arms were much looser than they were prior, and the fact that you were only using hands was absolutely blowing your mind. Your arousal was increasing. Seeing how pathetic and easy it was to turn Chan on.

“Is that good Chan?”

“Yes,” he breathed, barely able to get his words out, “that feels so good, fuck Y/n.”

The breathy tone of your name sent a shiver down your spine. It had been a while since someone made you feel like that. You felt like he needed to be rewarded. You maneuvered your body closer, but taking his hands off of his length, placing them on either sides of your chest as you took him in, watching his length slide in the crevice of your tits. Chan jumped out of his seat, jaw slack and dropping to the floor as he watched his extremely hard cock disappear in between your cleavage. Eyes remained on him, your core was throbbing harder, watching his face contour, eyebrows strongly furrowed; he was enjoying every single second of it. Your chest moved with anticipation, tongue sticking out to reach the slit of his tip every time it reached the peak of your cleavage.

“You’re so cute,” you smile, “you’re so pathetic you know, have you ever done this before?”

“No,” he moaned, hands already gripping his bed sheets forcefully, “you’re right, I’m so pathetic.”

“Oh you like that? You like when I take control?”

“Yes.”

“You’re such a good boy,” you coo, picking up your pace, “taking my tits so well aren’t you?” His head rolled back, eyes closed but looking like he was looking at the ceiling. It was almost as enjoyable for you as it was for him. The textures and ridges of your cock not going unnoticed. He felt amazing, and your mouth began to salivate because if he felt that good in between your tits, he would feel 10 times better inside of you. Chan came back to life, head snapping back into motion as he looked down at you, so much innocence yet corruption filled his being. You moved away, hearing the sound of disappointment come from Chan’s lips as you stood up.

Lifting a hand, you pushed him by the chest, laying him flat before crawling on top of him. Still sitting up, you hovered over intertwining your fingers with his and you lined yourself up with his cock. A sudden pang of doubt creeped into your mind. Was this the right thing to do? Did you feel the need to do this to satisfy your own wants and needs?

“Are you ready for this?”

He said nothing, only nodding because he knew that if he tried to speak, it would come out as a voice breaking murmur. Placing your hand on his shoulder, straightening your back, allowing yourself to sit on top of him. A small moan escaped your lips as your clit landed on his cock. That was fortunate. A hiss escaped him. Chan had been super patient until this point, it kind of made you feel guilty for making him wait. But another part of you kind of loved this almost sick power you had over him. He was so complicit, not doing anything and letting you take control. It felt rare, because most of your previous partners needed to have control.

“Do you mind if I do everything myself?”

His eyes never left yours, biting down on his bottom lip as he shook his head, eagerly waiting for you to get on with it. You lifted your hips once more, taking the hand that was intertwined and bringing it to the base of his length. A moan in unison, one of relief and gratification as he effortlessly slid into you. Chan was a decently hung man, but it didn’t matter anyways. You were already so wet and so turned on that fucking him would be a piece of cake.

“Fuck,” he cursed, eyes glued to your tits as the had a light bounce. You began to gently rock, not wanting to overwhelm him at a rapid rate. This was supposed to be relaxing for him, and it was, feeling his cock already twitching inside of you.

“You’re not going to cum are you?”

You leaned forward, pressing your lips softly against his. The electricity was great, moving with so much attention yet sensuality you slipped your tongue inside his mouth. A soft groan vibrated from his mouth the longer you kissed him. Breaking the kiss, he looked up at you, keen to answer your question

“No,” you whined, unsure what to do with his hands, “sorry I’m just so excited.”

“You’re excited?”

“Yes,” he replied looking back up at you, “I can lie and say I haven’t thought about this before?”

A mischievous gasp left your mouth at his words. The combination of him thinking about fucking you and actually fucking you was causing your body to heat up. The temperature in the room increased and the tension felt even thicker than before. You kept a slow pace at first, hands on his shoulders in your attempt to remain balanced. It truly was adorable at how into you he truly was in this moment.

“We can do this as many times as you want now baby,” you cooed, “this is only the beginning if you want it to be.”

You picked up speed a little not wanting to go too fast, but needing just enough friction and gratification to work towards your high. Chan was so immersed in you that his hands barely lingered across your hips. It had come to your attention that maybe he genuinely needed some assistance. It was clear that even though the agreement was that his stress relief was in the palm of your hands, it was important to him that for you, it was equally enjoyable.

“You know you can touch me,” you whispered, giving his palms a gentle nudge upwards. It didn’t take much, almost like his hands were in, or on, their most natural position; your tits. A gentle moan escaped your lips at the contrasting ice cold temperature of his fingertips lingering on your nipples. The long string of moans and gasps from Chan was becoming anything but adorable. Each noise he made aroused you even more. The gentle massage of his hands was delightful. It wasn’t the first time you had thought about this. Especially when you were frustrated, stressed, or having a dry spell, the physicality of Chan was always a lingering cognition. Always there to coax you through your sexual frustration. If anything, this became stress relief for the both of you. Chan because he was stressed out because he needed to pass the exam, and yourself because now you didn’t have to suppress the surplus of fantasies and desires that stayed awake in your mind.

“Mmm, how are you doing Chan?”

“So good,” he growled, “I don’t know if I can last much longer.”

A small giggle escaped your lips. Keeping your composure, but really you were grateful because you could feel the pit in the depth of your lower abdomen. Your orgasm was coming, and there was nothing you could do about it. Although you did all the work, his cock was hitting you in the exact spot you needed. The slapping of your ass against his groin was getting louder, and you rhythm faster yet a little erratic, the intensity of him starting to overwhelm you.

“Y/n, wait,” he paused, making you stop in your tracks, “I don’t want to cum in you.”

A pout puffed from your lips at his words.

“You don’t?”

“Well,” Chan gulped, “I would, but I didn’t think-”

Instead of letting him finish, your index finger was across his lips, completely shushing him.

“You shouldn’t assume things about me Mr. Bang.”

You picked your hips up again, leaning back on his knees he bucked your hips, rapidly feeling the strokes of Chan’s cock. You wanted him to cum, you wanted him to cum so badly. The way you were dying to see the face he made when he came, how he looked at you was your soul volition in this very moment.

“Are you gonna cum?”

“Fuck, Y/n please,” he moaned, his loudest noise yet.

He nodded, jaw slack open as you rode him like your life depended on it. His cock was twitching at a rapid rate, hipe gently bucking into yours as he felt his high coming.

“Would you like to cum in me?”

He nodded once more.

“Cum in me Chan, cum in me, come one baby, you can do it.”

Chan mouthing ‘fuck’ one more time, before completely blowing his load inside of you. His jaw cracked, distressed gasp strangling his throat as he grabbed your hips, controlling your speed as you milked him dry, your orgasm waving over you simultaneously.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, knowing Chan was guiding you through it, but at this point, you didn't even care. It felt too good to discipline him for not letting you do everything. You stood up, a sharp groan coming from you as you felt his seed drip out.

“Fuck, what if-”

“Don’t worry,” you interrupted once more, “I’m on the pill.”

A sigh of relief disappeared from his chest.

You lied down next to him, trying to catch your breath as he turned to look at you.

“How do you feel?”

“Y/n that was amazing?”

You chuckled at his admiration, turning to him and seeing the sweat condensate across his forehead. Wow, did you make him work up a sweat.

“Still stressed out?”

“Far from it.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, hope I wasn’t too overpowering or anything.”

“Absolutely not,” he scoffed, “it was really fucking hot actually.”

Fuck. You kissed him again, really enjoying the validation of your feminine power over him. It was a nice moment, that was until you heard a knock on the door. Fuck. The two of you were so immersed in what you were doing, that you completely forgot about the study session with the others.

“Shit, uh, just put your clothes on, I’ll stall them.”

You nodded, quickly redressing yourself and heading to the bathroom. You cleaned yourself up, looking at the mirror and shit, did you kinda look like a mess. A pang of embarrassment hit your chest. How on earth were you supposed to just hang out with your friends, and act like you didn’t just fuck one of them. Nevertheless, there was no time to think about it, fixing your hair as much as you could before opening the door, and returning to the lounge where the others smirked at you when you walked in.

“Hey guys,” you smiled, choosing to ignore them, “what’s going on?”

“What are you already doing here?”

The two of you gave each other a quick look, praying to the lords that you came up with the same explanation.

“Oh me? I only got here like 5 minutes before you guys.”

“Oh you did,” Felix chimed in, sarcastically placing a hand on his chin, like a detective, “and Chan, why do you look almost sweaty?”

“Uh me, well I just had a shower before you guys got here. Then Y/n knocked about 10 minutes later.”

You shrugged, nervously chuckling and just praying they were taking this.

“Fuck Y/n, please,” Changbin whined, mocking Chan. Your eyes grew wide.

“Yeah come on baby, cum in me cum in me,” Felix added, making everyone burst into laughter. Your face was as red as a bunch of tomatoes. They heard everything. Fuck, this was embarrassing.

“You guys don’t have to lie, you know. We saw this coming from a mile away.”

“You did?” The two of you asked in unison, making the rest of them laugh again.

“I mean yeah,” Felix shrugged, “I’m sure this is what all the ‘extra studying’ was for.”

“No dude,” Chan began to yell, even you giggling at him now getting defensive, “I do need help! I’m terrible at this!”

“Is he y/n?”

“Terrible at psych? A little,” you paused, sitting down next to Felix on Chan’s couch, “sex? Absolutely not.”

#bang chan #bangchan smut #chan smut #bang chan smut #stray kids smut #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #bang chan scenario #bang chan imagine #chan scenario #chan imagine #ch4nb4ng #bangchan x reader #chan x reader

1K notes · View notes

crushedgraham · 3 months

Note

18+ request: in modern/au, fem!reader and Alcina are married and she's a college professor and she's on a zoom call and reader tries to break her composure, like eating her out underneath her desk?

thank you!!!

Getting that A

Pairings: Alcina Dimitrescu x Fem!Reader

Summary: Alcina seems stressed, so much paperwork and now a lecture over zoom? It only seems right as her wife to try and lighten her load - on your knees.

Warnings: Roleplaying, a little degradation, exhibitionism, Modern AU

There are very few people who would willingly listen to two hours worth of art history, but when the lessons were taught by your goddess of a wife? Suddenly it didn’t seem so bad. Maybe it was the way the vocabulary rolled off her silver tongue or perhaps the designer glasses that sat perched perfectly on the ridge of her angular nose. You couldn’t care for the reason, all you knew was that you were married to the sexiest professor in all of Romania (possibly the world) and she was missing from her rightful spot between your thighs.

Your knuckles knocked quickly against the deep mahogany wood of Alcina’s office door, followed by a distant “Come in.”

Pushing open the heavy door, your eyes immediately fixate on Alcina’s powerful figure sitting behind her desk. You shoo the lustful thoughts away as you note the stacks of paper scattered across the desk along with a pale finger rubbing at her brow bone - a habit you’ve come to know when your wife is particularly stressed.

“Draga? Is everything alright?” You’re snapped out of your own little world by weary blue eyes searching yours.

“Hm? Oh yeah, I brought your lunch up since you skipped breakfast.”

She resumes her incessant scribbling as you gently rearrange a few papers to make room for the tray. “How sweet of you, my love. Thank you.”

Though she made no move to react any further, her eyes remained glued to the documents. Taking this as a challenge, you saunter around the desk until you're by your wife’s side. Your hands glide along the neatly rolled sleeves that cling just enough to her forearms, up to her tense shoulders where your fingers press into a tight knot at the base of her neck. Alcina’s reaction is immediate, her hand stilling, her long eyelashes fluttering shut and the sinfully low groan that rumbles deep from within her chest.

“You’ve been working so hard, take a break, baby.” Your breath tickles the shell of her ear and you punctuate the end of your sentence with a nip at her earlobe.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, I have a zoom lesson in five minutes.” Her tone is threatening but all it does is make you want her more.

Alcina was a very experimental woman and that extended into your sex life. There was a particular kink that you knew she had that had been untouched for quite some time. This was quite a fitting situation to strike at it.

“I’m sure I could help you de-stress and listen to the lecture at the same time, professor.”

Her eyes meet yours, silently asking if this is what she thought it was, all you offer is a cheeky grin as you kneel like a saint at the feet of their goddess - you were always ready to worship your lady.

“Let me help you, professor, please?”

The space underneath her desk is slightly larger than an average sized desk because Alcina was anything but average. From this angle, she got a wonderful view of your cleavage that your tight dress top did little to conceal. She might not outwardly express it but the dilation of her pupils was all the encouragement you needed to nuzzle your cheek against the cold metal of her belt buckle - your hands groping and squeezing the strong muscle of her thighs.

Alcina tuts at your neediness, “Such a slut. Well go on, prove yourself useful and I just might let you pass.” She goes back to work, now clicking away at her computer to get the zoom meeting ready.

You unbuckle her belt with vigor, dropping it on the floor with a soft thud when it makes contact with the plush rug that aids your exposed knees that will surely bruise after this. The button on her suit pants is stubborn and takes a bit of cautioned yanking that earns you a glare but you undo it nonetheless. You tug the pants down just below her knee caps, revealing her lacy black underwear. Alcina spares you one last glance before clicking the “start meeting” button, students knowing your wifes strict rule of punctuality, begin flooding into the meeting.

The heady smell of her arousal mixed with the accents of her perfume and cigarettes mix to create an aphrodisiac that only you would ever witness. Shuffling forward, you press your tongue flat against the wet patch that stains the center of her underwear. The faint taste adds to the burning heat between your own thighs. Hungry for more, you yank the delicate lace to the side - a moan nearly slipping out from your lips as the sight of Alcina’s puffy, wet pussy is on full display for you.

Her voice, deepened by her lust, begins the lecture but it sounds worlds away to you. Your wife is notorious for her powerful voice, which is just as commanding and boisterous in bed. And as much as you’d love to make her scream your name - you didn’t want the undeserving students in the call to witness what solely belongs to you. To avoid this, you begin by slowly cleaning the insides of her thighs where her slick has collected. Your tongue trails up the sides of her cunt, narrowly missing her soaked folds. Alcina glares down at you over the rim of her half-moon glasses, her nostrils flaring from the teasing that she couldn’t stop you from carrying out.

But for both your sanities, you finally relent. Pressing your tongue against her swollen clit draws a shaky exhale through her nose and a feather light whimper from yourself. Your tongue stays there, drawing little circles before dipping down to taste her straight from the source. Above you, Alcina digs her manicured nails into the top of her desk in an effort to keep her tone even. Yet when you stuff your tongue inside her, her composure quickly begins to crack. Her velvety walls clench against your slick muscle as you work it in and out of her needy slit, her body twitching as the tip of your tongue presses against the spongey little spot inside her that you know all too well.

Alcina quickly asks a question, allowing one of her students to answer, giving her a brief moment to focus on your motions. Her hand sneaks down to thread between your locks, her grip is tight and the sharp points of her nails scrape against your scalp ever so slightly. The added pressure to your head pushes your face further into her pussy, your nose now rubbing just right against her clit. The new friction against her clit mixed with the scandalous situation sends her to the brink of cumming embarrassingly fast. A large black pump gets thrown over your shoulder, the heel digging into your shoulder blade. The burn from both the heel and her nails along with your own arousal that drips from underneath your skirt encourages you to ignore the aching in your jaw and fuck your wifes dripping cunt faster.

“I apologize but a family emergency has c-come up. I will pick up from where we ended next week.” Her rushed excuse doesn’t register in your head but the obscenely loud moan after she ends the meeting does.

You get one last thrust in before her walls start twitching, constricting your tongue - forcing you to helplessly take the coating and gushing of cum. It clings to your tongue as you pull it out from her pulsing cunt, taking a long pause to enjoy the taste as it slides down your throat when you swallow.

“So professor, how was that? Surely A plus worthy.” You question smugly.

Alcina rests her head back against the leather headrest of her plush office chair, her eyes shut as she basks in the afterglow of her orgasm.

“Perhaps a B minus at best.”

An offended and quite appalled gasp rips from your drenched lips as you stare incredulously at her. She opens one eye to look down at you, her face completely neutral before she cracks a grin, little giggles tumbling out before they turn into full laughs.

“Joking, darling! I can’t help myself when you react so adorably.” She rolls her chair back to give you enough space to lift you up into her lap. You refuse to look at her, your bottom lip pushed out in a pout and your arms crossed securely over your chest.

“Oh? Is my little dove upset with me? What a shame, I only give rewards to those who don’t pout and ignore their amazing wives.” Alcina noses along the curve of your neck, red lips passing the color of her expensive lipstick onto your skin. Her fingers deftly reach under your skirt to trace your cunt through your thoroughly soaked panties.

“I- I want a-an A..!” You whine out.

Watching Alcina unravel so beautifully nearly brought you to your own orgasm, untouched. Still, you were turned on and your sensitivity was cranked all the way up. A throaty chuckle reverberates against your skin.

“And you got your A, Dragul meu.” She rises to press her lips against yours in a slow kiss, she invades your mouth, moaning into the kiss at the taste of herself. Though the moment is broken when the sound of the front door opening followed by the loud bickering of your three daughters echoes into the large office. You drop your head onto Alcina’s chest with a groan.

“I didn’t even get to cum…”

“We both need a shower, perhaps I could give you your reward there.”

That was all you needed before you were booking it to your bathroom connected to your bedroom. Alcina shaking her head in amusement at your antics while redressing.

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitriscu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil village

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malavera · 1 year

Text

Since Your Type is Older Men (18+) — Tom Cruise

summary: Tom is filled with Jealousy when he sees you Zooming with your University Professor.

pairings: husband!tom x wife!reader

warnings: mature content, smut, unprotected sex, sirkink, agegap, squirting

w.c 1542

a/n: this one's dedicated for @rinimitchell and @angelaemme as they're always the first two to always show support whenever i post! love you both, hope you enjoy it! x

taglist: @tomsf18 @helloitstsyu @deanscroissant @moondustfairies @call-sign-shark @katherineswritingsblog @elenavampire21 @gypsymoon548 @cherrycruise @joeltheegoodson

"Baby, you're killing me. Tell me what did I do wrong?" You whined towards your loving husband, plopping yourself down beside him on the fluffy couch. He pays you no mind, his eyes focused on the flat screen flicking through channels as he's aware there's nothing exciting to watch.

A frustration can be seen on your face, turning your head towards the TV and watch him still going through channels that he never picked. You sigh, "Just pick a damn channel and look at me." You groaned.

Being stubborn, he didn't listen to you. At this point, you believe the TV could blow off any second from the way he switched on the channels. Pursing your lips, you decided to take matters into your own hands as you pushed yourself off to your feet to straddle his thighs, blocking his view.

Settling down on his lap, you aggressively grabbed the remote from him and switch off the TV before tossing it away. Once you face him, a death stare was already set on you. Your eyebrows scrunched in anger, crossing your arms across your chest.

"What is up with you, Tom? Tell me what's wrong?" You aggressively asked.

“Who were you on Zoom with?”

“I told you! I was on Zoom with my Professor to talk about my grades and-”

“Exactly, and? What did he say? How can you maintain your grades?” And that’s when you realize, the man is being hostile because he’s jealous. Your crossed arms seemed to relax a bit, your shoulders following to slumped. Looking at him funny as you chuckle.

Tom on the other hand, is still annoyed. “What’s so funny?” He grumbled.

That made you laugh even more, “Oh baby, are you jealous?” Gasping for air as you asked your beloved while running your hands through his hair.

“No.”

Snorted, “Really? I think that’s hot.” You run your fingers through his long hair, pushing it back. Tom peered up at you from his lashes.

“I-” Stopping himself to sigh, “I just… Don’t like him.”

“You’ve never met the man.”

“Yeah and therefore, I don’t like him. Don’t you ever realize that sometimes he flirts with you? What kind of a Professor does that to their student? Don’t you find it disgusting?” Tom grimaced in disgust.

You suppress your laugh, you find this whole situation adorable. From being annoyed, to understanding and seeing where his coming from. It warms you that although the way he shows it, was annoying, but when you give yourself a second to think about it, he’s just being adorably protective over you—his young wife.

“Have you ever catch me responding to any of ‘em?” Tom pursed his lips, his eyes darting down to avoid looking at you.

“No.” He admit.

“I’ve always done my online meetings with you in the room, baby. You’ve seen everything, you should’ve trusted me.” You coo’ed, caressing his cheek with the palm of your hands. Tom sighed, his shoulders slumped, his hands reaching to grasp your hips.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just- Sometimes I would think, since your type is older men, he’s definitely older than you, good looking either… You’d leave me for him.” Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment not because of what he said was ever near true, but the way he pointed out how you love older men. You never thought of leaving him, ever, because why would you? You snatched the one and only Tom Cruise for christ sake—have he lost his mind?

“Baby, you hearing yourself? I will never leave you!” You exclaimed, cupping his face now.

“I will never… Ever.. Leave you.” You brought his face closer to yours, forcing him to look at you.

“Never, okay? Besides..” You trailed, your hands slowly went down to his neck. “I have you, the man, the myth, the legend, who saved Hollywood’s ass.. Tom Cruise.” You coo’ed in his ear, your hips gently grinds on his lap.

“Yeah?” His famous smirk slowly appearing.

“Yeah.” You pouted, nodding your head.

“Why is your type older men, anyways?” Tom teased, the hands that were on your hips moves gently to caress you.

“If I tell you, I’m gonna have to kill you.” You may or may not quoted him using his lines from the greatest movie of all time. Tom laughs before he pulls you in for a deep kiss. The kiss turned out to be heated by the second, the way his tongue swipes against your bottom lip asking for entrance. From there on, it turns into some kind of battling for dominance. He couldn’t help but gently capture your bottom lip, seductively pulling it as you kept grinding on his lap.

He released your bottom lip to let out a soft grunt, with his eyes screwed shut as he could feel your soaked thong against his bulge. “You never really answered the question, pretty.” Tom manage to say something, but grunting in each words.

Humming, you stopped grinding your hips to undo his pants. Pulling it down along with his boxers freeing his, now fully, erect cock. A sigh of relief you earned from him, as your eyes darted to stare at him.

“You’re the one who set the bars. I love older men, because of you. And, I’m so lucky that I finally have you, Tommy.” You coo’ed, pecking his lips as you pushed your thong aside, guiding his cock to your hole gently rubbing the tip against your glistening cunt.

“Don’t ever think about that ever again, yeah? I just want to fuck my husband, and that- is you.” You whispered against his lips before you sink yourself down his shaft. Tom’s breath shuddered watching your face contorted into euphoria along releasing the most pornographic moans.

“Mmh… How I love this cock in my pussy, Sir. Only your cock she wants.” Tom grunted listening to you dirty talk in his ears, feeling you softly went up and down on him.

“Don’t you love my pussy, Sir? My tight warm pussy, for your old cock?” Something inside him snapped as he pushed you down against the cushions—earning a loud gasp from you.

“Old cock you say huh?” You smirked.

“Well.. That’s how you perceive yourself, weren’t you?” Tom clicked his tongue while shaking his head from side to side in disbelief.

“Don’t forget that this old cock, had made you cum-” He harshly thrusted his hips, “Made your legs shook-” And another one, “And made you squirted so many times.” He growled.

You smirk, “Yes, Sir. That’s what you do to me.” You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck. Tom grabbed your legs and wrap them around his hips along with throwing his shirt away. He harshly undo your oversized shirt to reveal your perfect body. Already glistening with little sweats anticipating his next move.

Tom harshly snapped his hips thrusting his cock into your cunt, his hands holding onto your tits gripping them so tight but not tight enough where it could hurt you. In fact, you didn’t feel pain from any of this. You enjoy this, you enjoy him going off with your pussy. Loud pornographic moans raining from your lips, as you both stare at each other while his cock drilling in your pussy.

“Mmh yes, keep going Sir. Please.”

“Oh, Sir! Yes, it feels so good.”

“You feel so good.”

You try to boost his ego more by spilling out dirty talks that you think he would love. Oh, he definitely loves it. Listening to you talk dirty to him makes him goes feral even more as he pushed your legs up in the air then push them back resulting you to hug your legs as he pushed himself into you more. Tom grunts feeling the way your cunt puckered around his cock, gladly welcomes him with your warmth as the wetness you produce formed a squelching sound.

“Mmh, are you gonna cum, Sir?” You mewled. Your eyebrows scrunched to form an innocent face as he stares at you death in the eyes. Feeling himself getting closer.

“Yeah? You’re gonna cum in me?” Tom moaned. As much as he’d want to bust his nut right there and now, he couldn’t. He wants to prove a point. You gasped in surprise as he harshly pull himself out from your cunt.

“Wha-” You were about to protest but then his 2 fingers enters your hole, flicking and fucking you. “Fuck!” You cursed along releasing a loud moan. By now, you believe the cushions is soaked due to your fluid as his fingers fucks into you.

“You always love my fingers, right?” Tom breathed, as his fingers vigorously fucking you. “Come on baby, I want you to squirt for me.” You moaned.

“F-fuck! Tommy.” You shrieked, he knew the fastest way to get you to squirt for him was using his fingers. And he proved himself right, seconds later you gushed out your fluids out—spraying his abdomen and made a real mess. But, Tom didn’t stop there.

When you were still squirting, he replaced his fingers with his cock. A loud moan escaped from him, as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

“This is going to be a long night for you, baby.”

#tom cruise #tom cruise smut #tom cruise dirty imagine #tom cruise dirty imagines #tom cruise imagine #tom cruise imagines #tom cruise oneshot #tom cruise fic #tom cruise fanfiction #tom cruise x reader

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hearta54 · 1 year

Text

He's A Distraction (Central Cee x Reader)

Summary: You're a dedicated student and going to Cambridge and become a doctor is your stars and heavens. To make that happen you have to move schools, a boy was never meant to be part of the picture. But Cench looks so good in it...

Word Count: 2 472

Notes: Sorry this is a bit long, I would love if you guys would send requests.

You scroll fixatedly on your laptop, scanning the screen in intense concentration and stopping each time something caught your attention. Reading the Cambridge Medicine webpage was an addiction; in the past you had tried to dissuade yourself from accepting this, but how could you not when it always stared blankly back at you? Addictive but productive, each time you re-read the sentences you had engraved into your memory you grew closer to your dream. And when you closed your eyes at night, you saw yourself in lavender scrubs and a pearly white lab coat; living your dream of being a Cambridge Alumni doctor.

Three A*s needed for entry motivated you to be an excellent student. You didn't mean to behave exaltedly but your current school was inadequate in innumerable ways. Today in biology, there hadn't been enough dissection kits, so the class had taken notes robotically and brushed over the practical. Defeated, you remembered how you had trudged home dubious; how could a school implore success in its students and not have the right resources? A memory of sitting in an examination room at Queen Victoria's Sixth Form Academy unnerved you, yes, you had sat the scholarship examination. It had been strenuous and the competition in the room had been palpable, even so, you didn't feel as if you could compete successfully. Falling asleep, you were plagued by these worrisome thoughts even in your dreams.

Obnoxiously the sound of your alarm erupted immersing the room and awakening you. Each morning when you woke up, a void would open gaping at you, existing ostentatiously: It was a persisting sense of loneliness at first; an innocuous reminder to cherish time with your parents. But this was difficult when they both left for work as the sun just began to emerge teasingly over the horizon. Your mother worked as a university professor, such a nominal salary for an intelligent woman, and your dad worked as a nurse; anyone could tell you nurses were underappreciated, numbers didn't have to. A smart knock was being emitted from the hallway, who was at the door?

A postman adorned in fluorescents held a letter for you to take, when you hesitated a second too delayed, he dropped it, walking swiftly to his flagged motorbike and zooming down the road. A Queen Victoria's Academy insignia? You felt so inauspicious as you leaned on the door prying the seal delicately open. Covering your face with your hand you peaked at the verdict through the intricate gaps between your fingers. "We would like to congratulate your success on the recent Academic Scholarship examination and invite you to accept a scholarship place with us." No words can grasp your joy it's transcending.

Yawning tiredly, you stretched placing your feet into your fluffy slippers, the night had gone and went without a wink of reprieve - you were consumed with nerves for the day ahead: Your first day at Queen Victoria's Sixth Form Academy. Opening the door, you walked across the creaking timber to make breakfast alone as you did every morning. You were befuddled to see your mother occupied in the kitchen handling an assortment of kitchenware ,readying a breakfast spread; usually you would just eat cereal; before you were pancakes, fresh fruit niftily cut, orange juice and array of salivating dishes.

"Mum why are you not at work?"

"I wanted to drive you for your first day, I can't begin to express how proud dad and I are," she said beaming excitedly.

You sat at the kitchen visualizing your mother's small, slightly dated and mediocre car driving alongside the avant-garde and luxurious cars of your new peers. Your stomach knotted half ominously and half guiltily. She seemed so happy to drive you and had sacrificed work to drive you, your inner monologue whispered insisting to take the bus would leave your mother forlorn.

"I'm glad you're taking me; I didn't really want to take the bus on my first day anyways."

Lies.

The academy's tree-lined boulevard was now in sight, driving alongside it now; planting your face against the misty window, eager to catch a glimpse. Your mother's car was now aligned with the curb which signaled a convenient space to leave; grudgingly you opened the door slowly as if peeking into a foreign world - in a way you were. You breathed in a long breath of courage as you slung your bag across your shoulders.

"Bye mum, thanks for the ride," you said, genuinely grateful.

"My pleasure darling, I love you, see you after school." Your mother grinned, pride cascading her face and carved smile lines. Guilt ebbed slowly as you watched your mother drive away. As her car dissipated to a speck in the distance a humble maroon car pulled to the curb, your mother had dropped you off with a car of a similar stature. You felt an unspoken sense of camaraderie. I'm glad I have someone to share the embarrassment with.

A boy emerged who appeared to be in the upper-sixth form - your year. He didn't seem ashamed of his car or even the slightest bit alienated; instead, he was confident, you could read if from his aura: it preceded him. Staring now, you saw his dark hair which was styled into jaw length box braids. His cutting cheek bones were iridescent, catching the sunlight, and you marveled at the softness of his plum bottom lip...

"I love you mum, thanks for the ride," he spoke to his mother with a genuine smile.

"I couldn't say no after you begged for a ride, could I? Have a good first day, Oakley."

What! He had asked for a ride. The guilt came gushing back, you weren't like him, yes you could relate about your car which was vain and face level. But he appreciated his mother wholly and wasn't attempting a façade to fit in with the elitism around. You felt a searing pang of shame. Frozen in thought you only broke out of this state when you felt dark coffee eyes meeting your gaze. The dwindling blare of the lesson bell dismissed you from the intense, awkward situation. Walking towards the office to meet the enrollment officer you chastised yourself sternly: This was the year of academic success entailing A*s, boys could tear down everything you had worked so hard for in a painful heartbeat.

The enrollment officer had distributed timetables to the small group of scholarship students; some of them gave a condescending air: Almost as if the fact testing had terminated slipped their minds, but most were nice and proffered kind but shy smiles, clipped at the edges with perceptible nerves. You navigated the halls wearily searching for your chemistry lab, the school was grandiose but tastefully understated. The look of old money attracted your gaze, it was a world away from where you had come. Walking the winding stairs, you see your chemistry class meters away from the landing 'room 299.'

Having arrived ahead of time allowed you to peruse the chemistry lab, it was a spectacle. Advanced modern equipment, granite bench tops, the most powerful microscopes... It left you speechless. You were broken from your trance by your classmates trickling in slowly and the booming voice of your new chemistry teacher.

"I am Dr. Olsen, I have a doctorate of chemistry from Oxford itself, trust you are in more than good hands," he paused to chuckle at his own joke but carried on when the students unreciprocated his mirth.

"This is the only chemistry class in the upper sixth form, that should allude to the arduous nature of the course. Therefore, to maximise your concentration I have taken it upon myself to devise a seating plan."

Dr. Olsen trailed off when the class began to groan resentfully.

"You can thank me when you receive your A-level results at the end of sixth form. Right then, in the back row, Y/N and Oakley Caesar-Su, Veronica Windward and Yasser Malik ..."

Oakley, You had been seated next to the boy from earlier this morning. You knew you shouldn't be smiling to yourself, chemistry was an imperative A-level. You weaved yourself to the back row and sat next to him.

"Hi Oakley," your voice had manifested much more timidly than you had expected.

" Yeah hey y/n, call me Cench, only my mum and tired old teachers like this one call me Oakley."

You giggled unexpectedly, he grinned back his gaze lingering. As Dr. Olsen droned on about Titration you took down notes studiously, beside you Cench was doing the same; writing down notes swiftly. You couldn't help but notice his handwriting was neat and prettily round, looking at his notes you dropped your pen. From your stool you reached down to retrieve it, on the way back up you bumped heads with Cench who had thoughtfully wanted to help.

"Oh my days, I'm sorry y/n, you good?" He was asking searching your eyes for signs of hurt.

You went to assure him you were okay when you got cut off by no other than Dr. Olsen...

"You two in the back Oakley and y/n quiet please."

"I am sorry Dr. Olsen I was just _"

"I don't want a justification take notes like everyone else, or get out," he said belittlingly.

Your cheeks got hotter as the class snapped their necks rubbernecking to witness your embarrassment, you looked at your notes mortified.

"Look, Dr. Olsen, You don't have to chat to her that way, she bumped her head and I was seeing if she was okay, yeah." Cench's jaw was locked making his cheek bones even more enunciated.

" Don't talk back Mr. Caesar-Su, detention after school." With an angered demeanor he resumed his lesson. You fought away guilt as you continued taking notes, if only I had gripped my pen tighter.

Trailing the halls advancing towards the exit, you're clouded with gratitude tinged with empathy for Cench, you hadn't meant to get him in trouble. Nor had you meant to tarnish his reputation in front of the strictest teacher. In your periphery you see Cench and your heart soars.

"Hi, Cench, I'm so sorry about earlier, I didn't think you'd get in trouble for trying to help."

"Don't worry about it y/n, that prick shouldn't have -"

"Right, students before we go into the room, these are the rules of after-school detention..." A teacher drawled these words with an expression of boredom.

You gave Cench an apologetic look over your shoulder before you opened the door, you were met by a smile and a shrug of the shoulders from Cench. The whole way home your mind is scattered with intrusive thoughts of him, you don't want them there but you don't want to fight them away either.

Cench's POV:

Detention dragged on just as I thought, thoughts of y/n appeased this listlessness because thinking of her had made it bearable. As we had worked on our assignments in silence I had chosen to continue my English literature essay. I could say I had not made much progress because the silence which filled the room was unsettling, but really it was because it was y/n who occupied my mind. Y/n with her guileless smile, her sharp and dazzling intellect, the clocked tick some more and I spent the time like this: Thinking up an interminable list of why I like y/n. Really and truly I had only met her today, but something about her...

Wrapping a towel around my waist and drying my wet braids, I hear a ping from my phone. 'You have received an email from..." It's a notification from the enrollments officer. Is this about today, I know I went overboard but I wasn't gonna let that prick talk to y/n like that.

I check what she has to say and she's saying I have to pick an extra-curricular to fulfil my scholarship expectations. That's calm, I'll join the Charitable Cause Club, I heard y/n is in it.

Y/N's POV:

At your desk you're riddled with inconsolable worry. In two days will be the chemistry exam which will make thirty percent of your semester grade. Staring at the notes in front of you which feel insurmountable you begin studying. It is well after midnight when you finally turn off your lamp and resign to sleep.

Cench's POV:

Standing around the classroom I see y/n, her eyebrows are nearly touching in what looks like worry while she reads her chemistry notes. I never thought she would panic during exam season, I think she's the smartest in our whole class. Watching her worry like eats away at me I really don't like it.

Lying awake on top of my covers despite the cold. My mind turns to y/n for the infinite time and I stop randomly at the Starbucks order she has in the morning sometimes. A regular matcha latte with two pumps of vanilla syrup and a strawberry icing doughnut embedded with fresh pieces of strawberry. Trust man's not simping... it's deeper than that.

Y/N's POV:

At 7am on a Friday morning, the library is empty. The comforting silence interrupted sporadically by the tinkering of the librarian. Today, is the day of the chemistry exam and no matter how much you study you don't feel ready for the exam. You feel warmth on your head, the feeling of someone watching you so you glance up straight into coffee eyes. It's Cench leaning on a bookcase your favourite Starbucks order in hand. Your heart skips several beats.

"Hi y/n, your such a neek you know, studying at this time." Cench says this as his eyes flick across your face, enthralled.

"I don't know, you can never be prepared enough," you retort, trying to fight a smile from showing on your lips but failing.

"I don't know about that, you'll do great, your as smart as you are cute. Which makes you very smart."

You feel your cheeks getting hotter and you stare blankly at your notebook.

Never taking his eyes off you Cench puts the drink and a paper bag down on the table.

"I got you a little something, good luck, yeah."

You watch him as he walks away, with his bag slung over one shoulder. Suddenly you are filled with the confidence he has in you.

Taking a few sips of your matcha leaves you refreshed, reaching into the paper bag your heart squeezes when you see a strawberry covered doughnut. How did he know. Looking inside the bag for napkins you see a strip of paper, unfolding the paper you read the message.

It says: You should go out with man. Scrolled on the bottom is a phone number.

You gasp earning a reprimanding look from the librarian. Your mind wanders visualising what your date with him will be like.

...

THE END

#one shot #x reader #central cee #cench #romance #fluffy #classical piano #fanfic #fanfiction #y/n #imagine #uk #ukrapper #central cee x reader #central x you #central cee fan fic #writer

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rentsturner · 6 months

Text

Obsessed - A.T. drabble

professor!Alex Turner x reader (but its so subtle, it could be any Alex x reader pairing)

warnings: cockwarming, oral sex (m receiving), pet names, praising, teensy bit of facefucking, fluff at the end, soft dom Alex, sub reader (ish)

a/n: @ohladymoon gave me motivation to finish this and helped when I was stuck so thank you <3. Its mostly smut - enjoy

Your books and notes are sprawled out across the table, laptop open on a lecture, your back aching as you hunched over the screen. Actually, it isn’t just your back that is aching. Your head feels like it's in a clamp, your hands are cramping from gripping your pen so tightly, and your eyes are throbbing. You don’t know how long you’ve been studying for, just that you’ve been sitting at Alex’s dining table since 11am, and it’s now dark outside.

You're not alone at least. Alex is sitting at the other end of the table, reading glasses on as he slowly marks essays, occasionally bringing the end of his pen up to his lips to nibble on it while he’s thinking. His hair is soft and fluffy, not having bothered to put any gel in it when he knew he was just going to be spending the day working with you.

You haven’t spoken for a few hours, just the odd ‘yes, please’ or ‘no, thank you’ when Alex offers to make you a cup of tea.

‘Maybe you should take a break, darling.’ Alex breaks the silence. You look up from your notes to see him gazing across the table at yours, leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. He looks serious.

‘No, this will only take me another hour or so, it’s fine.’ You’re determined to finish your work, despite the ache behind your eyes.

‘You’ve rewatched the last ten minutes of that lecture about 4 times. It’s driving me crazy, and I imagine you’re not feeling great either.’ He chuckles. ‘Come on, tell me you really don’t want a break.’

You sigh. He’s right. The words on the notepad in front of you are merging into one scribbled blur and every word the lecturer says is just going in one ear and out the other. You aren’t getting any meaningful work done. Maybe you should take a break. To be honest, what you really want right now is to cuddle up with Alex on the sofa.

‘Can we go lie down then? Please?’

‘Sorry, baby, got to finish marking these. Should be another half an hour.’ Alex goes back to looking at his papers, and your heart aches a little bit. You haven’t touched him for hours, and, for the two of you, that’s a long time to go without. You and Alex are usually very clingy, making up for having to hide your relationship in class by always being with each other behind closed doors. You’re practically attached at the hip. You had sat away from Alex today to try to minimise distractions while working, but now you’re desperate to hold him again.

‘But, Al, I wanna be with you.’ You pout, knowing that it’s Alex’s weakness. You just want his attention.

‘Aw, you feeling needy, baby?’ Alex raises a brow, teasing you.

You huff, not talking back because if you do, Alex will probably call you a brat and you’ll be much less likely to get what you want. But you won’t give up completely. It’s a fine line.

‘Just wanna be close to you.’

Alex puts his pen down, thinking for a few moments before turning his gaze back to you. He has a little glint in his eye, and you can tell he’s got an idea brewing.

‘Want to keep me warm then?’

You nod eagerly, knowing what Alex means straight away. You’ve done this before, when you were feeling especially needy but Alex was in a zoom meeting.

‘Alright, baby, grab a cushion then, yeah?’

You smile and close your laptop, pushing your notes into a semblance of a pile, before going and getting your favourite cushion from the sofa. You shuffle back over to Alex, who’s pushed his chair back from the table to make room for you. You drop the cushion under the table and sink down, making yourself comfortable.

Alex shuffles himself forward so he can still reach his essays easily, his legs now bracketing you on either side. It’s comfortably dark under the table, the dim light easing the pain in your eyes. You feel sleepy already.

‘Alright, behave now, ok? Don’t distract me.’ Alex looks down at you, his eyes stern, stroking your hair gently with one large hand. He reaches down to your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. ‘You ready?’

You nod eagerly, but Alex tuts and shakes his head.

‘Use your words, baby.’

‘Yes, Al. Please.’

He nods and smiles, stroking your hair once more before moving his hands to his belt, unbuckling it. He unzips his trousers, his hands moving far too slowly for your liking.

Finally, he pulls his cock out, pumping it a few times. It’s still soft, but that doesn’t mean that your mouth isn’t watering at the sight of it.

You look up at Alex, making eye contact with him to silently ask permission. He smiles, and you dip your head, suckling on his tip before slowly taking all of him into your mouth, or as much as you can fit anyway. Even soft, Alex’s cock is an impressive size.

You hum around him as you feel him pressing hot and heavy on your tongue. His smell and taste is all encompassing and so familiar. You can’t help but bob your head and little, swirling your tongue teasingly around him. You can feel Alex’s cock beginning to stiffen, forcing your mouth to open a little wider around his girth.

Alex pats your head gently.

‘Alright, settle down. Let me finish these papers, you relax, baby.’

You do as you’re told, relaxing your jaw to take more of him into your mouth, then resting your head on Alex’s thigh, feeling his muscle tense a little under your cheek. He’s warm and solid, the fabric of his trousers silky on your skin.

Your eyes start to fall closed, the feeling of Alex slowly throbbing in your mouth making you feel warm and safe. You love the way this position makes you feel, kneeling quietly between Alex’s legs. You just love being so close to him, and really, you can’t get closer than this. Every few minutes, Alex’s hand dips down to card his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp. You can feel your headache fading away, the tiredness you’ve been holding at bay for the past few hours finally catching up with you. You close your eyes.

- * - * -

You wake up to Alex tugging your hair, his breath coming hard and fast as he looks down at you with blown out eyes.

“Fuck, baby.”

You slowly come back to reality, feeling the drool dripping down your chin and onto your knees as Alex’s now very hard cock stretches your mouth open. You taste the salty tang of his pre-cum at the back of your tongue, his length hot and throbbing in your mouth. You widen your eyes up at Alex, who’s breathing heavily as his hands card through your hair, essays obviously abandoned.

“Have a good nap, baby?” He manages to huff out, and you nod as much as the grip he has on your hair will allow.

“Yeah, well you really seemed to like teasing me in your sleep. Fuck.” his hips buck slightly, pushing his cock further into your throat and you try not to gag, swallowing tightly around his tip instead. He groans lowly, throwing his head back to look at the ceiling.

“Think you need to finish what you started, princess, hm?” Alex looks back down to you, his eyes black, pupils blown, a few wrinkles on his forehead as his eyebrows knit together in a slight frown. A few strands of his fluffy hair fall gracefully over his forehead, before he pushes them back quickly with one trembling hand.

You nod again, before getting to work. The sounds echoing round the room are obscene, suckling and slobbering as you bob your head up and down Alex’s length, hollowing your lips as best you can around his girth. You feel him twitch in your mouth, an accompanying moan slipping out of Alex’s mouth. His grip tightens on your hair, pulling you down further on his cock while his hips begin to grind against your face. Your nose is pressed into his pubes, and you feel yourself growing lightheaded but the sensation of Alex’s wet, hot cock sliding in and out of your lips, hitting the back of your throat is practically heavenly.

You pull yourself off his length and Alex’s hand on your hair loosened, recognising that you need some air. You wipe the drool dripping down your chin with your hand and then use it to pump his cock, your hand gliding softly over his velvety skin. You dip your head to take his balls in your mouth and Alex gasps as you flick your tongue over them, sucking each one in turn before pulling off with a pop.

Alex heaves in a breath, panting. “Gonna come, baby, need to come in your mouth.”

You nod eagerly, kitten licking his tip, then relaxing your jaw to take him down your throat again. You barely even need to bob your head before a string of expletives work their way out of Alex’s mouth, a hand on either side of your head as his hips stutter. You feel his seed before you taste it, coating the back of your throat like a balm. You swallow it down eagerly, feeling his cock twitch and throb as he releases his load.

You keep him in your mouth, licking and suckling softly as he softens slowly. His hands are still trembling, stroking your hair gently as he comes down from what must have been a rather good orgasm.

“Fuck…” He sighs, his hand coming to grip your chin gently and push you off him. He tucks himself back into his trousers, motioning for you to sit on his lap. Your legs are stiff from kneeling for so long, but as soon as you're settled on his thighs, his fingers begin kneading your muscles, working out the tension and knots that have built up. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, feeling his pulse still hammering in his neck.

“So good, baby,” Alex croons, burying his face in your hair. “So good for me, such a good girl.”

You smile at his praises, bringing your hand to his so your fingers can intertwine, breathing in his scent, the smell of sweat and sex mixing with his cologne.

“Can we cuddle now, Al?”

“Course, baby. Want me to carry you to bed?”

thanks for reading hope yous enjoyed :)

#alex turner x reader #alex turner #arctic monkeys #Alex turner smut #Alex turner imagine #alex turner fanfic #drabble #my writing

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ideaofheaven · 10 months

Text

— after 2AM (choi minho x reader)

Synopsis: Choi Minho and you never see eye to eye. After countless troubles you two caused in class, the professor pairs you for a group project as a form of ironic punishment… Which brings you to a heated night of push and pull, hours before the deadline.

Pairing: Choi Minho x fem!reader

Genre: university!AU, enemies to lovers-ish, smut, then it gets kinda fluffy at the end??

Word count: 9682

Warnings: alcohol, they’re in uni, profanities, they are HORNY, mutual masturbation, video call sex, domsub undertones, explicit dirty talk (implied exhibitionism, breeding, and a tiiiiny bit of degradation kink), panic attack - reader experienced post-coital dysphoria for a bit :(

AN: sometimes your thirsty hours turn into a 9k mutual masturbation fic - jk, I really enjoy writing this one, especially the dialogue. I hope you like it! [06/30: did some minor edits on typos and whatnot]

Mini part 2 here

+++

"Out of every topic, you picked this? Are you mad?"

First and foremost, Choi Minho and you never get along.

There are abundant reasons why you can't stand him. You don't share too many classes with him, but when you do it always ends up with heated and pointless arguments. During each one of your presentations, Minho will raise a hand and play the role of devil's advocate, earning intrigued whispers from your classmates. Until one day, the professor had enough and paired you up in a project, much to your unheard protests.

Quite inevitably, it ends up in half-hearted discussion through the Zoom Meeting, only two days before the presentation.

"What? Got a problem with that?" You snap while still uploading source data into your shared drive. Then, a bark of mocking laughter pierces your ears, positively grating your nerves.

"A problem? There's no theory that correlates to it. Guess we're not having any presentations are we?"

You roll your eyes at the sight of his irksome sneer. It twists his usually bearable face into horribly displeasing. Minho's eyes spark alight with mockery, and you wonder why your classmates keep saying Minho "has the most tender eyes ever." Sounds like a different person altogether to you.

"We can find connections through other eras." You push through.

He rolls his eyes. "Which means you're doubling our work."

"Check the drive." You say through gritted teeth, barely holding yourself to spit harsher words. Minho does as instructed, albeit still murmuring curses under his breath and hand rustling his gelled hair, quiet but purposely audible, perhaps just to push your buttons more. But you choose to wait.

As expected, his eyebrows raise in surprise before he scoffs, "someone did their homework."

"And someone's a useless ass." Minho whips a glare at his own laptop camera - at you. Before he can say anything, you mute him. And you can see him biting his lips, holding back more words, solidifying your win.

"Shut up and get to work, Choi."

Then, his mic icon goes on.

"Fuck you."

You smirk. With a finger on your lips, you speak to him like one to a child. "Shhh. Be useful for once, will you?"

Both of you are petty and nothing sort of professional, but you have no intention to be the bigger person, not for Choi Minho. Begrudgingly, he turns away, and an icon with a familiar photo appears in the google docs.

That should motivate him to work.

His voice suddenly rings. "Hey."

He hasn't typed a single word on your shared google docs, you note with cynicism.

"What?"

"Your vocabulary sucks." Then in a douchebag way you know only Choi Minho can manage, he deletes most of your bullet points as you stifle a scream. He did not - "Let me be useful and change it up for you.” He ends with a cruel smirk.

This is not going to be easy.

+++

After a short-handed discussion, both of you decide to work in the student center. The next day, grudging and rather worn out from your last class, you force yourself to go. As you rise from your chair, a voice calls you out.

“You look like you’re gonna have some fun.” Kibum snickers and Jonghyun stifles a laugh on his own as well. You pout at your classmates.

“And you know exactly why.” You mutter with a roll of your eyes.

“I paired up with him last semester and got a perfect score, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jonghyun shrugs, gaining glares from both you and Kibum.

“Easy for you to say, he’s like a puppy around you.” Kibum scoffs, his platinum-dyed hair covering his eye, which must be rolling with annoyance. He then turns to you, “I’d like to say I feel you, but Minho really is worse with you.”

“Like, in comparison, he actually tolerates you all this time.” The shorter man adds to Kibum, perplexed.

“Right?!” He shouts, all dramatic and making you groan. “Seriously though, it’s a dick move from professor Lee.”

“To be frank, I can’t see myself finishing this assignment in one piece.”

“You should tell Minho to drop the class.” Kibum says mischievously, only to get pinched by the male with short brown hair, who’s impatiently shushing him. “Ouch, I’m just saying.”

Clutching your bag strap, you think about it for a second before waving the idea off. “Not happening. Professor Lee will still kill me.”

Your two male friends give off different reactions, Kibum is still finding ways to alleviate your pain (or to add more trouble), but instead, Jonghyun moves closer to put his arms around you.

“Listen, (Y/n), he’s not that bad. You’ll see.”

Chuckling at the positivity, you pat his arms in response. “Not sure about it, but okay.”

After arriving at the end of the hall, you go on separate ways with the boys. While they can go grab some dinner, you drag yourself to the meeting spot. The student center is quite empty, and to be expected because the facility is not too popular in the evenings. You find a table to sit at, and wait for your project partner.

You already have your laptop set up when Minho appears. Unlike you, he seems rather refreshed. He’s wearing an oversized hoodie and trousers for his long legs. In his hand is a large plastic bag which he dumps unceremoniously onto the table.

"What's this?"

"No 'hi' or something?" The male starts, rolling his eyes, with a hand on his hip. "Some snacks, in case we need it."

Oh. Resisting an urge to rummage through the colorful packages inside the plastic bag, you throw a doubtful look his way instead.

"Um, thanks."

As if not sensing your hostility, he shrugs in resignation, mumbling "sure" before sitting down and grabbing his own laptop from his bag.

Without much preamble, you both start working. Minho manages to focus on his screen, and the momentum breaks only when he calls your name to confirm a thing or two. At some point, he grabs a bag of chips for him to munch on, not forgetting to nudge the plastic bag in your direction. “Have you taken any?”

“Oh. Right.” You mumble, picking some chocolate stick that catches Minho’s attention for a split second.

Once in a while, your gaze drifts over to him, almost anticipating a weird movement or him slacking off. However, the only strange action you find is Minho blowing air towards the dark strands of hair covering his eyes.

In all actuality, you expect the atmosphere to be more sour and less productive. Yes, there's a strange vibe in the air, but it's more similar to awkwardness to cause discomfort.

Until suddenly, an insistent cursor on your shared google docs starts typing words that don't match your work. What the hell, anonymous tiger?

Growing exasperated, your fingers clack on the keyboard, furiously erasing the latest paragraph.

"What the fuck - I just wrote that!" The familiar voice shouts, and there's a split second when you think you should just kick him out, then do the presentation alone in class. That wouldn't be so bad.

"It's all wrong. And where are these photos coming from? Don't just put the bullet points there, they're meant to be the conclusion."

Minho takes a deep breath, shoulders visibly rising until he channels out his frustration with a noise that almost sounds like a growl. That sort of thing unfazed you, but you're still glad the student center is mostly empty.

"Listen, we can make a better statement than that." His eyes are like flames, and you can’t help but stare back and, as he wants, listen.

He pulls a chair, nodding to you in a silent gesture. Initially, you hesitate but you go over to him anyway. Minho clicks on the laptop and a new window pops up, showing a detailed page from a book.

"From this theory, I found a connection that can help us." With that, the temperamental male turns into a whole different person. He briefly explains the information he’s gotten from the book, all the while giving you the room to take it in. Then, with unmistakable excitement, he begins his train of thoughts he wants to implement into the assignment. With every sentence he says, your anger subsides, turning into something akin to awe. Not that you will admit it.

One thing for sure; for the first time, you think this project might work.

As he finishes, you blink rapidly. Minho leans back with his elbow on the desk, relaxed and undeniably proud of himself. You send a glare his way.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

His face scrunches, as if that was not the words he expected after the successful presentation.

"First, I wasn't done with the research." He says, eyebrows furrowing, then he points a finger at you. "Second, you muted me every time I said a goddamn word."

Oh, here we go again. Your two hands shot in the air, feigning a defense in front of the frowning man.

"Not my fault I don't want to hear your complaints."

There's a flash of something wild on Minho's face which you identify as his troublemaking expression. But as he leans closer, you realize it too late.

"This is why you should listen, (Y/n)."

In a snap, there's a pulling on your ear. Minho pinches your ear and pulls like you were a 5 year old with tantrums. The low level of pain causes you to winch, but it's the electricity from his touch that makes you jump back.

"Ow! What the hell!" You sputter and he snickers like this is elementary school, going with the theme in your head.

Satisfied, Minho releases you. But his hand lingers and it brushes the side of your neck, prompting you to hold a shiver from the ticklish sensation. It would be a drag to deal with more of his antics, so you get up from the chair to glare at him pointedly.

"You're a freak."

He challenges, fire in his eyes, "Care to say that again?"

Because you're not a university student who's not petty, you smirk and take the bait.

"You're a freak - hey!" His large hand pulls at your sleeve, halting your step. The sudden momentum startles you and you lose your footing. Ultimately, your body stumbles and falls with a yelp, and your bum hits the chair.

Grumbling, you shake off the shock before you attempt to get up once again. Then, a groan comes from beside you, too close, freezing you on the spot. A hand holds the side of your waist, and your suspicion is confirmed. Of course you did not land on the chair, you end up sitting on Minho's thighs, your back pressing against his.

"Getting comfortable?" Minho asks, his deep voice brushing your ears, and much to your dismay, you can imagine the leer that accompanies his voice. In panic and confusion, you attempt to leave his lap in a rush, only to be stopped.

"Can you get that hand off of me?" You ask, turning on him.

"I don't know, can I?"

His dark eyes clash with your glaring ones, gleaming with mischief and something else you can't quite decipher. All you can feel is his hand tightening its grip on your side, and the warm air of his breath, clouding your mind.

But this is Choi Minho, and you do not like Choi Minho, whatever the situation is. With a renewed willpower you push yourself off of him and be on your feet.

"We're wasting time." You declare. "Send me all your notes, we need to get going."

Minho only smiles sweetly, a one eighty degree difference from the man before, which only leaves you more frustrated. As he dives back into his work, you hide behind your laptop, calming your racing heart and ignoring the surge of familiarity you feel.

+++

The crowd was growing in number and in anger, too. The boys from the EXO house became more agitated with every word Minho said, filled with provocation and mockery. Jonghyun and Jinki were nowhere to be found, probably looking for chances to steal the mic. Taemin and Kibum were definitely loitering around the drinks bar.

You had no choice.

“Whoa, is that Jongin puking?!”

As expected, your shrill voice was enough to distract them before you literally dragged Minho by his jean jacket.

“Let me go,” he grunted, but his alcohol-induced state prevented him from doing it himself. Your smaller stature managed to pull him towards an empty room, which later you figured out to be the storage.

He tried to wrestle out of your grip, muttering curse words at no one in particular and you finally had enough. With both your hands, you slapped his cheeks, which were damp with sweat.

“You wouldn’t be able to win that fight.” You said sternly.

Minho froze, and while he was in that state, you quickly went out to get a glass of water. When you returned, he’s already blinking his eyes a few times, a sign of his returning sobriety.

And a sign you should leave the premises soon.

You handed him the glass, urging him to drink as you murmured, “I should go. This party sucks and, godammit, I just wanna go home. Drink this and… I don’t know, stay safe, I guess.”

The taller man drank slowly, but his eyes kept gazing at yours. When he finished, there was a soft look in his visage, and he suddenly smiled. Sleepy and tired, but sweet nonetheless.

Flustered, you left the glass in his hands, and ran away from the storage. The day after, Minho grumbled about his headache and loopholes in his memory from that party to Kibum and Jinki, and you sighed in relief.

+++

Sorry for the late reply! Was watching the campus baseball team

I added a few slides right before the first conclusion

Tell me what you think 🤔

These are okay.

But don't add more on that. We're almost reaching 40 slides.

Who said I'm gonna add more? 🙄

Idk, you seemed ready to add 10 more just to spite me.

Oh.

Why didnt I think of that

Are you free tonight?

Lets review the whole thing

Duh, tomorrow's the presentation

Do you think I'm that stupid lol

Unlike you I care about my grades

Yeah?

And you think I don't?

You don't seem to care if you get me into trouble

Right. Whatever.

Unlike you I'm not petty

Idc who I work with I can get my job done

I didn't mean it like that.

I'll join you at 11 pm

+++

There's a discomfort that can't be spoken.

You scroll through the slides, apprehensive not of the contents, but of the author, the one that finally snapped at you. Perhaps you deserved it. On the other hand, Minho should stop basing his mood on sports game results, it's stupid as hell.

Five minutes to eleven, the preparation is done. You could just text Minho there's nothing left to do, and both of you could catch some needed rest.

Suddenly, a loud beep rings in your ear. And you don't think twice before admitting Minho into your Zoom meeting.

"Hey, sorry for the wait." He speaks, voice crackling from the signal before it becomes more stable. "I just took a bath."

"At this hour?" You ask, disbelieving his decision, but trying not to stare for too long.

"Yeah. I just got back from a soccer game. Jonghyun's invitation." He shrugs, letting the towel drape against his broad shoulders, which may or may not be distracting.

Faster than a cat on a mouse, you force yourself to stop staring at him, and when you see Minho, there's an inquisitive expression on his gaze. He dismisses it quickly, relieving you.

"How's our work going?"

You clear your throat. "I'd finished checking them, maybe you want to see it first before we decide on the parts distribution."

"Sure."

And everything is awkward again.

Granted, it's not the most amicable atmosphere. Minho mumbles to himself, reading each point with focused eyes and not even minding your existence. After what seems like forever, he mentions a few slides that need to be double-checked, which extends your work time.

As the night heightens and the cold intensifies, you wish you were brave enough to break the ice.

Then, a loud yawn echoes in your ear.

"Can we continue this later?" Minho asks through more yawns. "It's like, almost 1 AM right now."

The time reminder doesn't quite surprise you. "Do you have morning classes?"

Minho checks his phone. "No."

"Then we're still doing this."

Your work partner groans, prompting you to hide a tiny smile at his antics. But suddenly, Minho raises his voice, startling you.

"Why do you hate me so much?" He snaps.

Something clenches in your stomach, and you force yourself to look into Minho's face on the screen. His eyebrows are furrowed, demanding answers which you are not sure you could provide.

"I don't."

"Then," he stops to hide a yawn. "Why?"

"I don't know." You pause. "But I don't hate you. Not at all."

His eyebrows shoot up, then he sighs.

“You’re just confused.”

“Yeah.” You pause. “I think I am… Like, really confused.”

Minho smiles in response, almost in relief. His eyes crinkle softly into crescents, like a drowsy pair of moons, and something within you softens at the sight. He should smile more often.

You quietly let out a relieved sigh on your own.

"Good. I'm taking a nap," he declares all of a sudden, standing up from his chair and ignoring your belated complaints. The camera view changes into something similar to a found footage movie, all shaky and blurry. Once it stabilizes, a sight of Minho clears up, showing him leaning back against a mountain of cushions and pillows on his bed. Then he sighs contently, the sound a little too soft in your ears.

But, he seems more comfortable on the soft bed. Unfair.

"Choi Minho, get back to the google docs or I'll - "

"You'll what? Mute my microphone?" A sleepy laugh. "I'm taking a nap. You and your ugly pajamas can suck it."

What the fuck.

"Excuse me? This is loungewear."

"Let me see." He laughs and you waste no time before adjusting your webcam to pan from your short sleeved top to the pants, all having the same pattern. They're cute, but from the way he frowns Minho doesn't seem too adoring of them.

"They're pajamas."

"It's loungewear, you caveman." You pout.

His full lips curl in a sneer, then he speaks with a voice surprisingly lower than before.

"Well I do prefer sleeping with no clothes."

Your mouth shuts. After a moment too long of trying not to imagine your classmate in his choice sleepwear, you grunt, exasperated.

"Whatever gets you off." You sigh, but internally cursing at your choice of words. Minho grins.

"You mean whatever gets you off."

"Shut up."

"Then mute me."

You let out a sarcastic laugh. "Mute yourself."

You stare at the pixelated image of Minho on the screen and he mirrors your actions, with a gaze more intense and drowning. It's as if he's not going to let this go easily. You are expecting more snides, but instead, with relaxed stretches and sighs, he leans back against the mountain of pillows.

"Okay." He shrugs. "Wake me up in 10 minutes."

The effort to speak fails as your throat tightens and you wish to go out, visit his dorm and strangle him in person. But Minho's already closing his eyes, tiredness taking over the man fast. And finally, you can relax.

If you're in a better state, you would have raked your mind to see how the fuck you let Choi Minho affect your this much.

At some point, you check Minho's camera, and sneak a time to take in his features. You won’t deny his handsome face and glorious physique. A small face, doe eyes, plush lips, broad shoulders, long legs that’s just unfair - okay yeah he’s hot. But it never occurs to you he'd look this calm even while sleeping. Gone are the angry lines on his eyebrows, and the tense clench of his jaw, all that’s left is a serene face that you don’t mind talking about for hours - okay yeah he’s still hot even when he’s sleeping.

If only he weren't such an asshole when he's awake.

Returning to your work, you never notice the rustling noises from Minho's mic. So when you see the Zoom window, you let out a yelp, surprised at Minho's face on your screen, peering with inquisition.

He laughs, and oh, his voice is huskier now after a short amount of sleep. "Surprised?"

"Uh, has it been 10 minutes already?"

"Not yet, but I can't sleep. Not with you staring all the time."

"Says the man who’s been staring at me for god knows how long." You respond, because the best thing liars can do is turn the table on others.

And Minho doesn't even deny it.

"Oh, yeah, about that."

"What?"

"Nothing." The quick response combined with his avoidance doesn't convince you in the slightest, and one wary look from Minho says he's well aware of it. After a few awkward seconds, he relents.

"That top, it's kind of…" he trails off, fingers touching his own t-shirt hem to emphasize a point. You look down, and - oh. The top button had slipped off, hence the generous view of cleavage that caught Minho's attention.

But you're in no mood to be embarrassed.

"That's the way you style it." You spit the lie with oozing confidence on a high level of bullshit. "You got any complaints?"

Minho's eyebrows furrow, obviously not buying it, but more amused. He’s holding back a mischievous looking smile, and despite not liking it, you have to suppress a bubbling excitement. Excitement of what, you have absolutely no idea. Or rather, you refuse to acknowledge you have fun teasing Choi Minho.

"No, not at all. And (Y/n)?"

You only move your eyes, not enjoying the apprehension because what now? As he finds your gaze, he smirks.

"That loungewear does look good on you."

You’re out of words to respond. As you ignore the jolt in your stomach, you let him be smug, satisfied, and winning. You don’t care.

However, minutes later, a small part of you relents and basks in the compliment in private, sharing little smiles to yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Minho doesn't have his eyes on the presentation anymore.

+++

As late night approaches, your productivity wanes.

Minho is back on the pillows, playing on his phone while you both take a break. Swayed by the night air and your sore back, you're now sitting on the bed too, but still facing the desk which is right by the mattress. After the pajama accident, you decided to wrap yourself in blankets, and when Minho saw your cocooned form he laughed, voice like crackling fire. Truth to be told, your blankets turn cold in comparison to the warmth he exuded.

The train of thoughts grinds to a halt when Minho chimes.

"Done for tonight?"

The honest and spontaneous answer would be a yes, it's done and we can now sleep and rest. But the hazy night lulls you further into a state of daze, making you wonder of the unthinkable.

"I still want to look something up. You can leave though, it's fine." Hook, line -

"Let me hang out with you for a bit."

Sinker.

What are you doing?

Silence stretches, and you're positive Minho is doing that stare again, the one that is construed as smoldering.

"Not too feisty late at night, are you?"

Minho has left his pillows, now sitting upright and staring directly at the camera - at you. There you decide confidence looks fucking good on Choi Minho.

"You know what they say, nothing good happens after 2 AM." You avert your gaze from his burning ones, and it's bold of you to assume you could escape.

"Oh? Any cautionary tales?"

"Not exactly." You hum, "Maybe unfiltered conversations?"

"That can be fun, though. It's like you're drunk, but with no alcohol." He rambles. You take notice of the sway in his sentence and open the Zoom window to check your partner. Despite the dim light, you can see the way his eyes droop with sleepiness, along with his messy mop of dark hair, and it's rather adorable.

"I think someone's guilty of that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, there's no booze here." He offers a crooked grin and the expression turns into a thoughtful one. "Do you drink?"

"What's it to you?"

He shrugs. "Just curious."

"Sometimes." You finally say.

There's a moment of silence before Minho rustles in his bed, sitting with crossed legs and scooting closer to the camera. When he speaks again, the volume is louder, startling you.

"Do you remember Kibum's party? The one on the weekend after Valentine's Day?"

"Oh God, that one was a bit too much."

"Agreed." He chuckles, low and nostalgic. He scratches the back of his head. "Thanks for helping me out back then."

You're barely able to hide the surprise on your face, and Minho answers the unsaid question for you.

"I remember. I was drunk, but I remember you dragging me off." From the tone of his voice, he sounds sheepish, but so are you, because the revelation throws you off guard.

"No worries. Just… Don't do that too often."

He laughs. "You hate parties, don't you? I remember you were so grumpy before you left."

Hiding your face in your hands, you groan. "They can be too much."

"You don't sound like you always have a good time."

"Sorry if my dull life offends you."

"It's not dull, per se.” He waves his hands around as a gesture. “But it's why you're such a bummer."

"Again, sorry if you're not having a blast with me."

"Forgiven." A pause. "But, you know." A longer pause, and the silence starts to test your patience. "You can just ask me. I provide spectacular good times."

Respectfully, you give him a side eye.

"Right now I can give you a whole different testimony."

"To be fair, we're doing homework. But… I can do better." He leans in closer, pupils dilating with an emotion you are afraid to iterate, furthering your confusion.

"What are you on about?" You minimize the Zoom window, an effort to return to your task at hand. From Minho's side, there's nothing but the sound of breathing, but when he speaks, his voice deepens.

"I can do better than this. I can make you feel good."

You freeze, throat tightening as you're lost for words. There's no way to stop your mind from wandering uncontrollably. Afraid to see him, you avoid checking his face on the screen.

After a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, voice husky and more true to what he said.

"Like I said, all you have to do is ask."

Afraid to cross whatever line he's teetering on, you take one for the team, inhale, and take a step back.

"Then, can you shut up and let me do my work?"

Minho lets out a condescending laugh in response, like he's asking 'are you for real?' "Fine then. Let me know when that cursor starts moving."

Warmth rushes to your cheeks. It's tempting to blame the alluring night, but you know better than that.

And you should know better than to assume Minho would let this slide.

The awkwardness hangs in the air, blanketing the both of you with tension. You suppose this could push him away, making him sign off and do his thing - which, you don't want to imagine. But no. Instead, Minho is now lounging on his bed. And now you know, the more comfortable Choi Minho is, the more forward he becomes.

"Why won't you let yourself loose?" He asks all of a sudden, five minutes of silence brings him to the edge of his new found glory. Minho scratches his dark hair like he’s frustrated.

You snap your head towards him in disbelief. But before you say anything, he continues with a slightly raised tone.

"Like, come on, (Y/n). We're in university. You can have some fun."

"Doesn't seem worth my time."

"I can be worth your time, if you let me."

"This again?" You sigh. "What do you want from me, Minho?"

Another silence, and this time, you regret the question. From the corner of your eyes, Minho is getting up from his position on the bed to lean in, face uncharacteristically serious.

“I know you know exactly what I want.” He begins. “And I see the way you look at me.”

There's no teasing, just a plain observation. Those words alone kick your heartbeat into a stuttering mess. Despite the urge to confirm, there's still hesitation. You don't want to give in. Not to him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You internally curse when your words come out too breathy, and Minho definitely notices, judging by the crooked smile adoring his lips.

"Aren't you tired of teasing yourself like this?" He asks, languid and all knowing. "Why are we still here? Our work is done. You stopped typing ten minutes ago."

"Okay, that's it. We're done for today." You cut him off, closing your docs to prove a point. But it doesn't deter him in the slightest.

"No, we're not." He says with a finality, sleep gone from his voice.

Because without the presentation and all other student responsibilities, you're just two young adults who forget nothing good will come out this late at night.

And, despite the virtual presence, he still manages to corner you, and string you along into his game.

Perhaps, you let him do so.

"You don't know how tempting you look right now." He whispers, making shivers run down your spine. Checking your camera view, you find out your blankets had fallen off, now sitting on your lap while your skewed pajamas look rumpled and, once again, revealing too much of your skin. With your messy hair and dazed eyes, you can understand why Minho would say that. You look fucked out. And there's no action - not yet.

So you try again, "Minho - "

"I like that look on your face."

You scoff, then try again. "Like I want to strangle you?"

"No. Like you want me to strangle you."

And that's when you know you can't try your way out of this situation. A jolt of arousal unwittingly shocks your body and Minho sees enough of your expression before flashing you a knowing smile. "What's on your mind?"

"...Nothing." You answer a beat too fast.

"You're thinking about me, aren't you?"

"That's - that's enough. Aren't you tired?"

"Not really. Why don't you tire me out?"

"If doing a presentation with me didn't do shit, I don't know what will."

"You just won't back down will you?" Minho's form on the screen shuffles, adjusting his position to lean back against the headboard. "Can't say I don't like it though." Then, a low sigh startles you, and your eyes grow wide.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Helping you out."

Unfortunately, he's not. He's laid on the bed, leaning back with his legs stretched out, a hand lazily stroking his own thighs. And it's a sight you can watch forever.

"How does touching yourself help me out, Choi?"

"You're too tense," he says in between grunts, earning more reaction from your traitorous body. "Be thankful I'm showing you how to relax."

"You're a goddamn pervert."

"And you like it."

"Fuck, why would I - do you actually think your naughty little words will work on me? Try again."

There's blazing confidence in his eyes, as if he's holding all the cards and you're left in the dark.

"Challenge accepted, beautiful.”

He continues to tease himself as he stares at your form in the camera, hands getting closer to his crotch.

"You can tell me to stop."

Before you can say anything, he reaches low and begins to palm himself through the sweatpants. Even on camera, you can see the sizable tent. You unconsciously lick your lips, earning a mocking laugh from his end.

"You're drooling."

You throw a glare at him. "Fuck you."

"We can get to that later. But right now, can I continue, (Y/n)?"

The question surprises you as it offers your ticket to the way out, despite the expectation visible in Minho’s pleading eyes. You take a deep breath, sealing the deal.

"...You said you accepted the challenge."

And that's all Minho needs to exhale harshly, sounding more like a moan.

"I did, but can't you just - ah - do something?" The husky voice alone sends a wave of arousal to your core, and you instinctively snap your thighs together. A cloud of lust starts to muddle your brain, and you can't think straight anymore.

Of course Minho notices immediately.

"I saw it."

"You see nothing."

"You're a fucking menace." He grunts, and it sounds way more sexy than angry, like really sexy. With a hand still touching and exploring, he continues to sigh.

"A menace that makes you jerk off while zooming with me?" You can't help but tease, in which he moans in response instead of answering.

"Listen, we're both tired and I need this. So, fuck it."

In one swift movement, his hand dives into his briefs and grabs his cock by the hilt, at least from what you guess through the fabric. His mouth falls open in pleasure.

"Godammit, Minho, you shouldn't - "

"Shhh… Let me have this." His hand speeds up and he closes his eyes, face scrunching in pleasure as he lets out sensuous noises that tempt you more until a whimper escapes your lips. You hear him chuckle.

"Care to join me? I bet you're already wet."

You force a laugh. “I don’t think so.”

"Then prove it."

“Do it yourself then.”

"Oh baby, if I were there, I would do more than that." You're frozen on the spot, anticipating his words. As he hears no complaint from you, he continues. "I could pull you down on my lap, just like that night in the library - "

"It was an accident." You protest, voice small and unsurprisingly ignored.

"- put my arm around your waist, and then I'd slip a hand underneath those pajama pants - loungewear." He laughs while correcting the words and you can’t help but join him incredulously.

At this point, you can only hear Minho's heavy breathing, or perhaps they were your own. You have no idea anymore, your brain muddled with desire and anticipation. His brown eyes slide to the camera, right at you.

"I wonder how wet you are beneath all that?"

For some reason, you still try. "Dry?”

"Wrong. You'd be soaking wet, and I just know you'd instantly jump as soon as I touched your panties." He explains nonchalantly, but then the haughty tone is replaced by something mocking and exaggerated. "But I guess I am the one who’s wrong."

"What?"

He ceases any movement on his part, and you find yourself disappointed. "If you're really not into this," he begins, voice breathy but there's impatience there that comes from the built up frustration. "Tell me to stop."

Everything halts in your brain. The erotic display gets to you too much until you can't even say a word. Instead, you zoom in on his arms, and how the muscles rippled when he stroke himself. The way his neck tenses, pronouncing his collarbones more. You even wonder if you would be able to see droplets of sweat on his temples if he was in front of you. As Minho grows more impatient, his eyebrows furrow.

He's absolutely gorgeous.

"Tell. Me. To. Stop.”

You swallow, helplessly and undeniably holding yourself back.

“What do you want, (Y/n)?” He focuses on you, chest heaving with each pant. Only now you see how desperate he is.

"Minho…" You let out, brain short-circuiting with lust.

“Yeah, baby? Tell me. You want the same thing as I do?” Whatever he sees on the screen makes him start moving again. His hand finds his shaft again, and he moans loudly. "You want to feel good? I can make you feel good, I can help you out.”

With every word, you wish you can say yes, yes, and yes. Instead, with a sharp intake, you finally say meekly, “Tell me what to do.”

You hear Minho murmur some curses before turning to you.

“Get that blanket away. I want to see you.”

Nervously, you reposition yourself, taking the blanket aside and you hold the urge to sigh as the scratchy fabric grazes your hot skin. You're already oversensitive and you haven't even started yet. Minho is staring at you through the camera, shameless with his want and impatience.

“Touch yourself, baby. Start with your tits.”

With shaky fingers, you start by caressing your chest. Online video meetings are peculiar because there's always a delay before the other party reacts to what you do. In that short window of time, doubt arises. You wonder and think how this happens. But then, Minho lets out a guttural moan, the sound akin to someone who's about to reach his climax.

And the surge of confidence crashes to you like a wave.

"I'm just touching my tits and you're gonna cum already?" You ask with a smug smile.

Minho pays no mind to your comment, instead he scoots closer to the laptop. "Shit, you're actually doing this. Now we're talking."

"Just this one time." You hurriedly find your hardening nipples through the thin fabric of your clothes, wincing with pleasure. "I need this too."

"Yeah? Show me how much you need this. Take off that shirt.”

God, now that you're not lying to yourself and to Minho there's a relentless urge to seek more pleasure. And the thought of Minho seeing you masturbate lights a fire in your stomach.

So you unbutton your top, slow and deliberate to tease the man on the other end of the application. Because that's what he deserves. You hear an exasperated "Hurry up," before a smirk graces your lips for a change. As you shrug off the shirt, you already know his eyes are glued to the sight of your skin.

"God, that body…" He trails off. "You're so fucking hot."

"Likewise." You sigh as your hand slips under the waistband of your pants. "Dammit, I can't believe this."

He chuckles, delirious but still tantalizingly sexy.

"You know what to do. Go and touch that pussy for me."

His assertiveness flicks a switch inside you. Letting out a shuddering sigh, you move backwards further, making sure everything you do will be captured with your web camera. Then, you pull open your legs at a traitorous slow movement, pulling more curses from Minho.

"Touch it." He orders.

You obey him and tug your panties aside to touch your core directly. The contact makes you moan, and Minho knows he's getting what he wants. And so are you.

"See, that wasn't so hard."

"S-shut up."

"You're drenched, I just know it."

He's right, and your head spins with relentless want. Imagining that voice speaking directly to your ear, soft lips grazing your skin as his hand travels south, leaving fire in its trail.

Like your hand is his, you continue rubbing your body, even spreading your legs more, as if he's right there as your audience. You pull your pants down, letting it pool on one of your ankles, before raising one leg slightly to find the angle that gives you the most pleasure.

As you hear wet sounds in your ear, you return your gaze to the screen to enjoy the sight. Minho had his pants removed properly as well, and he has one hand gripping his stiff cock, which has a sheen from what you assume is his own precum. God, the whole visual on your screen is such a sin.

"Shit." You can't help but say, and Minho only laughs in response.

"You're allowed to imagine me fucking you, don't worry." He teases, lips curling into a sneer, and considering the situation, it looks devilish and way too seductive.

With a shaky breath, you scoff.

"Is that what you're thinking? What, fucking me from behind?"

"Not from behind, baby. I want to see your face as my cock pushes in you for the first time."

You hiss as you slide your fingers in your pussy, scrunching your face with ecstasy, and fuck, Minho's into it, because he even stops to take a proper look at you and the way you pleasure yourself.

"Enjoying the view, Choi?" You challenge, and he gulps.

"I wish I could be there, watching you fuck yourself with your fingers."

"Are you sure - ah - you can just stay there and watch?" Your fingers already feel so good dragging against your walls and you want to know how it feels to have his thick cock inside you.

He smirks.

"I can be patient, baby. I can watch you all day."

"Why don't you help me out?"

"Oh? What do you want me to do?"

You groan. "You know…"

"What? Use your words, (Y/n)." Minho stops only to look at you straight from his camera, eyes almost begging. And you fall for it.

"I want your fingers in me."

He hums, a silent encouragement for you to continue.

"Mmhm. Keep touching yourself, baby girl. What else do you want?"

You groan at the nickname, feeling more wetness now inside you. In a daze, you manage out in between gasps.

"I need you to fuck me."

"What was that?"

"Minho, fuck me, please." You say as you add another finger, pushing inside your drenched pussy, making you moan your words.

"Oh baby, you're so cute begging me like that. I'm gonna fuck you hard, you hear me? You will be shaking and crying when I'm done with you."

You're whimpering, hands still furiously sliding in and out of your wet folds as you watch Minho throw his head back in immense pleasure. He's loud - groans and moans fill your ear, and the sounds coming from him are so lewd, and wet.

He's going to be the death of you.

There's a moment when you soak in each other's voices, each moan and squelch increasing your pleasure instead. Minho, dark eyes so clouded with lust it's clear even through the screen, demands another question to you.

"What do you want, (Y/n)? Tell me what you want to do to me."

Oh, you don't even know where to start. Flooded with many scenarios, you answer him with the first thing that comes to mind.

"I want to ride your face." You admit sheepishly, only to earn a low chuckle from the other side.

"Shit, that's hot. I wish you were here. I - " another low grunt. "I would have you sitting on my face, my tongue lapping your cunt as you scream out my name. I bet you taste like honey. You're going to grab my headboard, my fingers stuffing your mouth because I know you're going to be loud, aren't you baby?"

As if following his command, you whine out a "yes", voice high pitched and it sounds utterly pathetic.

With two fingers pushing in and out of your cunt deliciously, your other hand joins to rub your clit, and you hiccup a moan.

"Minho, please I want your cock inside me," you cry out, drowning in the euphoria of lust. All because of him, only him.

"Me too, baby, me too. I want to fuck you all day long. I want to take you in our classroom. Would you like that, huh? After class ended, I could just bend you over the desk and have my way with you."

You won't even deny how much wetter you get after imagining all his words. Public sex doesn't usually excite you much, but this is Minho, and everything with Minho sounds exhilarating and turns you on like hell. Your breath becomes shakier, and everything is intense. You can't feel your hands anymore.

"I'd like that. Hell, you can take me at the student center for all I care."

Minho, ever the sadist, sneers. "I knew it. You like having an audience huh? How about the next time we visit you sit on my cock? I bet you're going to have a hard time shutting up."

A gasp. "Like you're any better, you're freaking loud."

"Don't blame me, I bet your pussy will be so tight around me." He groans, enjoying his own imagination as he continues to pump his cock. "God, this feels so good. Touch your tits for me, baby."

You do as he says, enjoying the jolt of pleasure coming from pinching your nipples. As Minho keeps encouraging you, your breath quickens, tensing up as your climax approaches fast.

"Keep going - shit I need to taste you when you cum. Are you close? I'm so close."

"Minho," you moan, words slurring. "I'm so close, too. Fuck, I need your cum inside of me."

"Shit, (Y/n) - "

"I would hold you with my legs and I wouldn't let you go until you fill me up." There’s no more filter so you keep rambling, and before you know it you hear Minho groaning loudly. You check on the screen to see him cum, ropes of white getting onto his bed sheets. Not expecting him to cum first, you let out a delirious laugh. Minho catches you, still panting from his afterglow. He looks gorgeous -

And dangerous.

"You want to be filled, don't you?" He begins, voice still stuttering, but low and immediately freezing you in place. "You want my cum so bad you actually beg for it."

Your breaths pick up in pace.

"I don't think you're done yet. Get that hand working."

You grumble a word or two before resuming to touch your body, hands shaking with heightened pleasure. You hold back a hiss as you touch your stiff nipples, and continue to push in two fingers in your pussy.

"Faster, (Y/n). Rub that clit for me."

Biting your lip, you do as he says and feel the approaching climax. As you gaze at the screen, Minho has a hand propping his head as he looks at you with a challenging expression, like he's waiting for you to fall.

"What else do you want, baby? You want more of my cum? Want me to fill you up until you get knocked up?"

"Ah!" You slip, hands pinching your swollen nub too hard, but that's all Minho needs. With half lidded eyes, he peers at you, like he’s proud of the new discovery.

"Oh, look at you. You're enjoying this."

"N-no, I'm not," you breathe out, sounding too much like a moan.

"Yes you are."

The humiliation burns but not in the right place, it ignites a new flame inside your belly, and you can feel yourself clenching on your own fingers.

"I'm - I'm so close."

“Yeah? You wanna cum? You wanna squeeze my cock with that tight pussy, and make me fill you up?” He presses and presses, voice low as a whisper but all the words shoot straight to you like an arrow. Your breath grows more shallow, and you’re starting to see white behind your eyes.

“Yes, please. Please Minho, please - “

"Go on, cum for me, (Y/n)."

Like a tight string that is cut, you snap and release with heightened senses, all pleasure that washes over you.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." He murmurs with eyes looking at your panting self.

Your chest heaves with short breaths, and you let it slow down as you lean back into the pillows in your bed. You take a peek at your wet and shiny fingers in disbelief, giggling at the sight.

At the sound of your laugh, Minho joins in. "Damn, that was fun." Minho grins, the adrenaline seeping through the way he smiles. He leans in closer to the camera, eyes going all over. “I think we need to clean up, huh?”

You hum nonchalantly, but you notice your breath is not getting any slower. The thought hits you hard. You just masturbated with - in front of -

“Thank god I have no morning class, I need some good sleep after that.” He yawns, but then he gives another soft smile. “I wish you were here though, a cuddle would be perfect.”

The vision of both of you cuddling on your bed soothes your mind for a bit. You just know he’d be a great cuddler, and for some reason, it sounds nice. Lovely, even.

“Hey, after class you wanna grab dinner?”

After class. You will be meeting Minho, the person you just masturbated with, only in a few hours. Then you will present your work together.

Like a freight train, the embarrassment slams you in the face. You can't even say a thing, mouth only gaping open soundlessly, but you notice your heartbeat kicking abnormally in your ribcage, the sound starting to invade your senses.

"(Y/n), you okay?" Minho’s voice cuts through the racing thoughts in your mind. Gosh, he really does have tender eyes. He looks so worried, and genuine.

But your panic wins.

“I - I need to - I need to go - “

“Hey, tell me what’s - “

You never hear him finishing his sentence, because you already leave the meeting without saying another word.

+++

Despite knowing how much this presentation is worth for your grades, you want nothing more than to bury yourself in the nearest soil. And obviously, it’s not because you lack sleep. Because surprisingly, after that incident, you manage to sleep.

Probably because orgasms can make you that tired.

"Oh my, look at her, she's still alive!"

Barely, you think as Kibum walks to your seat, a sleepy Jonghyun in his trail, looking like he just woke up from a nap. Afternoon classes can either grant you extra nap time, or give you the most unfocused study time in the whole day.

In your case, without your morning classes, you can catch up with your needed sleep.

"Hey there, Kibum, Jjongie."

"You shouldn't be here. One of you must've dropped the class." The male with platinum hair gasps. "Minho dropped this class, didn't he?"

"What? No one's dropping the class." You groan, to which Jonghyun shouts in victory, startling you but not Kibum.

"You owe me 10 bucks."

"Whatever," Kibum rolls his eyes. "We still have one more run."

"Yeah but that's - "

You glare at them both. "You made bets?"

"Taemin put 30 on you dropping the class."

"Me? Dropping classes?” You almost shout, which makes Jonghyun cringe in understanding.

"Yeah he's not the brightest."

"See? It's more probable to have Minho leave." Kibum insists.

"Listen, Minho and I - "

"Me and (Y/n) are what?"

You freeze, recognizing the voice that lulls you to the peak of pleasure only a few hours prior. The blurry images of last night resurfaces in your mind, just like on the screen. You keep staring at the other way, not knowing how you will keep your expressions in check as soon as you see Minho.

"She’s not lying, you're still alive!"

Minho raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Of course I am, what would she do to me, kill me?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Jonghyun chimes in, getting a laugh from Minho. The latter suddenly takes a seat beside you, and though you still hesitate to face him, you can smell his cologne that almost immediately makes your brain short-circuit.

“So you both actually managed to finish the assignment?” Kibum asks, his head turning from you to Minho. You have no choice but to turn to your partner, and he’s already smirking at you.

“We did. Not without sacrifices, though.” The taller male answers, looking at you with unmistakable fire in his eyes. You hold the urge to glare at him but only nod and force a smile in agreement.

“Huh.” Jonghyun murmurs, almost like an encouragement for both of you to elaborate more. But Kibum already cuts him off.

“Man, professor Lee will have a field day - “

"I probably will.” The said professor chimes in, making Kibum shout and the class laugh. “That's enough, Kim Kibum. Now let's start the class. Today's the presentation day, yeah? Let's begin with Sungjae's group."

Minho stays sitting down on your left side, leaving Kibum and Jonghyun bickering over some badly designed presentation slides from the others. As your eyes meet Minho's dark ones, the noise around you fades away, and you're left with a tight feeling in your stomach.

"Are you ready?" He asks and you jolt in surprise at how calming his eyes are to you. So you just grin, letting yourself relax. Because despite everything, you know you’ll get the presentation part right.

"Of course." Your smile grows wider as you find the need to push his buttons further. "I hope you slept well."

He smirks. "Couldn't ask for a better rest."

In the end, despite Minho keeps bumping into you, or his hand lingering on yours as you click on the next slide, or him giving you that weird stare publicly, the presentation goes surprisingly well.

Professor Lee compliments the presentation you both give, even mentioning how this might be the first time the two of you are on the same side, and it creates great results, detailed and insightful. Minho manages to look smug and say, “She just took control of the situation, that’s all we need.”

You almost choke.

As soon as the class is dismissed, you know exactly what Minho is going to do.

“Hey, (Y/n) - “

“I need to talk to you.”

Minho’s eyes widen in surprise when you say it at the same time, then the surprise look melts into a goofy grin, like he’s relieved. You mirror it unconsciously.

“Sure, wanna go somewhere?”

As you both bask in each other’s presence, you don’t notice Kibum and Jonghyun staring intensely when you leave the class side by side. Kibum nudges the brunet curiously.

"They seem different, don’t they?”

"But did you see? Minho is clearly eye-fucking her."

Kibum smirks. “I win.”

“Fuck you.” Jonghyun groans in realization, preparing his wallet.

+++

The walk back to Minho’s dorm room is in silence. It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but you still prefer a lighter situation with the tall male by your side. He seems to understand the hesitance, or rather, he prefers to wait until you start.

So when you sit down on his couch, shoes, and bag discarded neatly, you know the ball's on your court.

As you will yourself, Minho only stares at you longingly. He can’t believe you’re here in his room, although not in his bedroom but his common room instead (he internally cheered when he opened the door and saw no roommate to be found). Yes, he has questions regarding your actions on him last night, but he has a strong guess, and he just can’t wait to have it confirmed.

You always drive him crazy, and it makes him mad that you shared such a moment last night but it doesn’t guarantee him to get to know you more. Or having you more.

“So.” Your voice interrupts his thoughts, perking him up.

“Yeah?” He immediately pushes. Patient, Choi.

“I think we did great just now.”

Minho can’t help but bark a laugh. “Seriously? We fucking did, though.” He begins proudly, earning a pretty smile from you. “Never heard him compliment students so bluntly.”

“Right?” You scoot closer to him, now your knees touching. “I guess something good comes out of this.”

He takes the chance and puts himself on your eye level. “Only that?”

Your eyes widen, shyness taking over as your reply, “Well, not only that.”

Realizing now you both are on the same page, Minho presses even further. "Mm-hm?"

The girl beside him finally sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Minho replies truthfully. “But what happened?”

“I just panicked, you know. Dysphoria and all.”

And with that, his worries are confirmed. He understands that more than anything because those kinds of reactions after reaching climaxes are not uncommon.

“Hey,” he begins, hand reaching out to touch your knee. “I get it, it happens.” A pause. “I had it once, too.”

From the way you stare at him, he knows you’re surprised by the information. But he’s still teetering on the edge, so maybe next time he can indulge you in the story.

For now, he has more things to confirm.

“But did you regret it?”

“No!” You answer a tad too fast. “No, I didn’t.” You finally look him in the eye. “I really loved it.”

“Did you now?” He pushes, a smirk gracing his lips, and his anticipation grows rapidly.

You nod, slightly leaning in closer to his face. “And I’m also wondering if all you said were just words.”

Minho’s breath hitches, “Fuck. Should I prove you wrong again?”

Exceeding his expectations, you grab his hand which is sitting on your kneecap, then move it higher up your inner thigh. Then, you smile mischievously, the sight making Minho dizzy because damn, you’re way prettier in person than in those Zoom calls.

“If you want me that bad, sure.”

He groans. “Oh come on, you’re the one who suggested visiting my room.”

You laugh, and the sound is way too husky to be considered playful. Suddenly, but not surprisingly, you lean in to capture his lips in a kiss, which makes Minho groan immediately.

Minho takes control of the kiss as soon as it starts, cupping your cheek in his palm, and holding your waist with his other hand, gripping them tightly and making you gasp. His tongue immediately invades your mouth, and god you taste so good -

“I’ve wanted to do this since forever.”

“Really?” You pant.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to finally have you all to myself.” He dives back in, devouring your lips and swallowing your whimpers. All his imagination from last night pales in comparison to this, to you actually being in his arms, making the sweetest sounds for his ears.

“I suggest - “ You begin with stuttering breaths after parting so suddenly, “We move to your bedroom.”

Minho smirks. “On it, baby.”

#choi minho #shinee #shinee scenarios #shinee smut #choi minho x reader #minho x reader #minho scenarios #choi minho scenarios #choi minho x you #choi minho smut #choi minho fic #kpop smut #kpop scenarios

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hopplessilse · 4 months

Text

Fetish l. Hello Mr. Miller

Teacher! Joel x f!reader 18+ explicit minors dni

Serie masterlist

Summary: Back in college, you realize that your favorite teacher, Mr. Miller, will be teaching you, what is more exciting than that.

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: teacher-student, age gab (reader in her early 20's, joel in his late 40's) pet names (darlin), sexual fantasies, reader zoom out, pov. Joel, Pov. reader, flirtation, slow burn (not so slow), they are both two consenting adults

A/N: This series will be as real as possible, it won't be so fanciful, Mr. Miller is an idiot sometimes, If it's not your type of reading, don't read it. My first language is not English, any misspellings I apologize.

Joel knew you since he taught you last semester.

You fell in love with the way he taught, the way he explained, how smart he was, the passion with which he spoke. The respect with which he spoke to everyone, especially women.

You've heard a lot of rumors around the school, from different teachers and students. But one of them stood out the most in your head, as it was about your favorite teacher.

it was rumored that he had "something" with a student, you heard nothing but pure obscenities, your head refused to believe it.

Even the girl everyone was talking about didn't say anything. But you knew it might have been true because you watched her every time you had classes with him. As she looked at him during these, as at the end of each class she almost always stayed with him in the classroom.

She was always smiling and radiant, but one day she wasn't. She looked different, everything they knew about her before was gone.

She even ended up dropping out of college, many said it was because they had been discrovered, others said it was an agreement, others said she had gone into depression because of the breakup, but the truth is that no one knows, they are just assumptions.

This semester you wanted it to be different, to have different routines than what you were used to.

You were a good student, present in all the classes, you didn't have bad grades, you always tried to do everything on time, so as not to fall behind with your work. You weren't trying to be the best, but at least you were trying to make it out of the semester alive. You weren't a brainiac, but you always or almost always tried to be ready for the next classes, although you have to admit that sometimes you didn't care much about knowing the subject before.

Your degree was about philosophy in letters. You love to write, it helps you in some way to get out of or distract yourself from reality. You can create the world you want just by imagining it and capturing it on paper, on a screen, even in drawings. This semester you weren't so excited about the subjects, some teachers were good, others made you sleep because of the way they explained, boring.

Joel Miller was going to teach you the subject of philosophical anthropology. You were excited because that was the subject that Joel Miller was most passionate about. You knew very little about him as a person, you didn't know anything personal about his life, in fact no one knew anything. You were sure he wasn't married since he didn't wear any rings, not even on his ring finger.

Almost everything about him was a mystery, a mystery that you wanted to know, you wanted to dig into.

The first week of classes was suspended, given that they were fumigating the school, so the classes during that week were online, you hated classes like that since covid, happy on the one hand since you could sleep or be in your pajamas, but horrible because you didn't pay attention, you didn't learn anything.

And worst of all, you weren't going to be able to see Professor Miller in person.

Your schedules this semester were varied, some classes were in the morning and others in the afternoon/evening. With professor Miller you had 2 different schedules, one in the morning on Wednesday and another in the evening on Friday.

But unfortunately you didn't have classes with him on Wednesday due to a personal situation. But today was Friday afternoon, and you'd have classes with him.

You were at your desk, dressed in a beautiful dark green long-sleeved T-shirt, the fabric was soft and thin, the collar was U-shaped, accentuating your collarbones and neck. Around your neck hung a heart-shaped locket with your initial engraved on it, your mom had given it to you before you left for college.

You had a close relationship with your mom, after all you were similar in some ways, certain actions reminded you of her, but at the same time you were very different from each other.

She always told you to take care of the boys, the older men, she always gave you advice to make your life different from hers, she always reminded you to meet your goals, not to listen to other people, to follow the right path, to get married after 29, but with the right person.

You loved your mom, she was your best friend, she knew everything about you… But at the same time you kept little memories just for yourself.

The class was about to start, so that you could see yourself well on camera you only had the light on your desk. You took your lipstick to moisturize your lips, while you saw yourself on the screen of your laptop, a sound was present through the speakers of your computer, it was a message from the group leader with the link to the class.

You took a deep breath and clicked on the link. Before entering, turn off your microphone and camera as no one would have their cameras on.

When you entered you could see some boxes appear, the total number of students taking the class was 25, and yes, no one had their camera on.

You grabbed your folder and pens as more students joined the class, when a voice that you recognized quite well, thick and hoarse came through the speakers.

"Hi, good evening, I hope you are all well"

The image of Him was present, in a rectangle that you hated because it wasn't enough to see how beautiful and attractive he was.

"I'm going to need everyone to turn on their camera please, I know it's a nuisance but I need to know that everyone is alive"

You were more than happy to do it, when you turned it on you could tell that you weren't the only one who was. You'd say you're crazy, but out of all the images that appeared, you could only see 5 men in the class. crazy.

"There they are" He showed a beautiful smile Everyone smiled at the comment.

"From what I see on the list, many of you have already give you classes before, a few others are new," he paused as he picked up a pen, "I'll go through the roll call so keep an eye out for your names please."

Then he put on a pair of square black glasses, could it be sexier?

He started naming by surnames, while your classmates said present you were dying of nerves, whenever he called your last name you got nervous, but when he told you by your name, you didn't know how it could sound so beautiful coming out of his lips, he made it sound perfect.

You knew it was your turn, because your friend's last name came before yours in every class. Until you heard him call you

"present" you said with a shy smile, and he looked up, you knew he would remember you, you knew it perfectly.

A smile crept across his face as he watched you.

"I didn't know you'd take this course"

"Yes. Well, it's my favorite"

"I'm glad to hear that," he paused and sighed to look away from his list, "I hope it meets your expectations." You just nodded and he kept naming the rest of the class.

"Okay, welcome to the introduction to the subject of philosophical anthropology. I hope you're ready to learn," he took off his glasses and then a presentation appeared on the screen

"Someone knows what philosophical anthropology is"

They were silent for a moment while Professor Miller took the list, you knew he was going to take it as participation, you weren't a fan of that, last semester he made you participate so he could raise your points in the subject.

"Someone…"

You decided to take sides and encourage yourself to do it, in the end you knew little about the subject, and it was the first time you took the class, it didn't matter that you didn't know much.

"Me" your voice was present on everyone's speakers. Miller raised his head at your voice, his face reflecting surprise, and a smile appeared on his lips.

"Go ahead"

"It is a science that focuses on the study of the human being, it is responsible for studying the problems that man presents throughout life, from conception to the end of his existence"

You explained calmly as you felt your hands trembling and sweating under his gaze, you felt that your words would get stuck in your throat at any moment.

Professor Miller was about to speak when a female voice interrupted him.

"In fact, the term can be understood in several ways, it does not only represent one thing, it represents several philosophical studies and not only of the human being"

That damn bitch

You weren't a fan of hers, you knew why she was in that class, and it wasn't because she liked the subject, but because she liked the teacher.

"That's right, they're both right" he moved his eyes looking at the image of both "it's a very big word that encompasses different meanings, in a few words philosophical anthropology studies the conditions of possibility of the human phenomenon"

"The object of study is very varied since it has several objects or topics of study, which may not have coherence but are united in a profound way. It studies topics related to the origin of life, the violence that occurs in individuals, the feeling of love, the existence or not of God, animals, the stars such as the moon and the sun, creation, among others. It studies man or the human being within the universe and how it can help the world develop. Civilized man and those who belong to mythical beliefs stand out among the objects of study because they make an analysis of humanity, giving importance to the theory of creation."

As he explained you were so enraptured with him, that you forgot for a moment that you were on his screen, he could see you on the other side. You shook your head trying to concentrate and watched as he let out a small laugh.

God is watching me

You tried to suppress a scream, honestly you could have been worse but you knew how to control the situation. You were still paying attention when your cell phone that was next to you on the desk vibrated, you picked it up and saw your friend's name on the screen, it was a message from her.

Shit, I'm crazy or he'll laugh at you

He did it, didn't he? I'm not crazy haha

Woman, I swear, he's been paying attention to you, he was even surprised that you participated

i know

"I hope it meets your expectations" for God's sake

You just laughed, covering your mouth with your hand.

The class continued with participations, talks, brainstorms, and Professor Miller being attentive as always. At the end of the day they took only half an hour and concluded with the class. Professor Miller said goodbye to everyone with that smile that made you fantasize every time you saw her.

Yes, he had improved during the holidays, it's not like a lot of time had passed but something in him looked better, every time you looked at him you couldn't help but think that it would go through his head every time he saw a cute girl at university… Did he consider you a pretty girl?

You couldn't help but think that.

Has that ever crossed his mind? Or I'm crazy to think he'd think that

There were a lot of unanswered questions floating around in your head, you knew you needed to stop a little bit, you didn't need to be obsessed with it like last semester, dying of nerves every time he talked to you or looked at you, every time he made you participate, when you exposed and he looked at you and listened attentively, it didn't have to be the same, you wanted to enjoy the class without feeling nervous every time you participated, you wanted to excel in this class, who knows, you might be their new favorite student.

You'd be lying if you didn't want a benefit… the only benefit you want is his attention on you, you would achieve it by being attentive to him, but he had to look for you first, you need to be a master of minds… In the most innocent way.

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You were walking straight to your building, it was a cloudy day, a cold that had been felt since the day before. It was the new beginning of the week, you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss school, because it was almost the only place you went out during the week, if it wasn't here you went to a coffee shop or bookstore, and no, we won't put labels on you, you weren't a nerd, or anything like that, you didn't read school books at least just if it was for research, all the books you had were of other genres.

Besides, you had missed the architecture of your school, the dampness that settled on the bricks due to the rain and cold. There were many trees around, others taller than others, there were very nice plants, benches that decorated the grass to take a break, study or eat.

A warm hug surrounded your body as you walked through the door of your building, even though the brick was cold, the facility stayed warm.

You had your headphones on, you liked to block out the sound of the hallways, you mentally prepared yourself for the classes you would have during the day, some more interactive and others… not so exciting. Your classroom was on the second floor and the stairs were around the corner from the teachers' offices. The teachers were always mainstays, you weren't going to deny that, whenever you arrived the offices were open, the teachers' room… full of these.

Just as you were in the hallway about to get to the offices, you saw Professor Miller come out of his office, he had some papers in his hands, his clothes were uff words would not be enough to describe how handsome he looked in shirt and tie, he closed the door of his office and when he looked up he saw you and smiled at you.

You saw how his lips moved, and with a confused face you took off your headphones, and the first thing you heard was his laughter as he shook his head.

"Sorry Mr. Miller" you said sadly smiling

"it's okay, I just said good morning" he kept that beautiful smile on his face as he placed the papers under his armpit.

"I'm surprised I don't see you with your cup of coffee," you said, pointing to his hand.

"Ha yes" he look at them and smile at you "I was just going to the teacher's room for one" you nodded as you both looked at each other

Normally you would talk if you had any doubts in class, but it was very rare that you saw him in the hallways, he was always in his office busy.

"Well, I should go to my class before they let me out," you laughed a little as you approached the stairs.

"Sure, I'm not taking up any more of your time, have a nice day"

"See you on Wednesday, Mr. Miller," you said in a friendly tone as you turned around and walked up the stairs, putting your headphones back on your head. He just turned to look at you as you disappeared around the stairs and just smiled and walked into the teacher's room.

The classes weren't as boring as you expected, the topics were interesting and you really paid attention to every word the teachers said, your schedule on Mondays was rushed until 1pm, you just stepped out when the rain took over the streets. Due to the weather you would go straight to your house, since you didn't have an umbrella and you knew that the rain would get worse as the hours went by. The good thing is that your friend had a car, and she would take you home to go over some topics.

And from thinking about Professor Miller so much, I think you manifested it a little bit, because after seeing him at the entrance this morning, you saw him when you went to the bathroom down the hallway talking to a professor, then at lunch, you saw him leave the building with his beautiful brown jacket and with some professors who you imagine having lunch. And right now in the parking lot… recharged in his car while smoking a cigarette.

There could be a much hotter scene than this?

You elbowed your friend who was next to you talking about an argument she had with a girl in her 8 o'clock class. At the moment of feeling your blow she turn to look at you with furrowed eyebrows and you only pointed with your eyes to who was a few meters away from you. She just smiled wickedly as she looked at you raising her eyebrows and you threatened her with your gaze before you could protest she was already approaching him as she greeted him in the process.

"Hi, Mr. Miller," your friend said animatedly as she stood in front of him while keeping a decent distance.

"Hello girls" he shook the ashes from his cigarette and they fell to the floor "time to go?" he looked at both of you with a smile

"that's right, after a bad day" your friend wrinkled her lips

"Why?" he sucked on his cigarette as smoke slowly rose from his lips.

"Well, my choice of teachers wasn't the best this semester"

"Isn't it?" by his tone they knew he had been offended

"You don't haha, you are a good teacher"

"I hope so, since you didn't participate in Friday's class" he said and he looked at you smiling and you returned the gesture

"well.. The truth is that I haven't researched so much on the subject, but I have her to help me," she said as she hugged you by the shoulders so you would get closer to them.

"She's a good one"

You just rolled your eyes because of the comment

"I know she's good, I saw her last semester, she just needs to be more participative" he said looking straight into your eyes with a serious countenance waiting for you to answer

"I will be" You looked at him in both eyes and he just nodded

"I hope so, you know I expect a lot from you, I don't want to be disappointed and see that you don't give it your all"

"I'll help her get out of her comfort zone" your friend said as she looked at you with a smile

He nodded as he tossed his cigarette on the floor and extinguished it with the toe of his shoe.

"Work on the task I leave, you'll be the first ones I ask," he said as he straightened up and for the first time that day you saw how strong he had become.

"We won't let you down"

"I hope not" he said as he walked in the opposite direction of you, "drive carefully"

"Have a nice day, Mr. Miller" your friend said screaming while you smiled embarrassed by her action. He just nodded, smiling.

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It was already Wednesday, you were looking forward to that day.

The day before you hadn't seen Professor Miller all morning, you were eager to see him, it was the only time in the day when you could see him. You arrived first thing in the morning, bringing coffee for your friend and yourself. You liked to be early to your classes, you didn't like to be late, anywhere in fact. Normally you were the first to arrive, and sometimes with 5 minutes to go there was still no one in the room, some were very unpunctual as well as some teachers, but Professor Miller was the most punctual person you knew.

You arrived at the classroom 10 minutes early, and as you imagined no one had arrived, you left the coffees in your place and when you were going to leave your things on the seat, the door to the classroom opened and Professor Miller peeked out behind it with his suitcase hanging from his shoulder, gave you a smile and spoke.

"Good day"

"Good day teacher"

"I came to let you know that the class will be held in room 13" sighed

"Oh the 13th? Isn't it too big for our group?" You frowned, taking the coffees in hand and walking straight to the door where he was.

"Yes it is, but apparently it's the only void, the seniors won't be there today" he moved so you could get out, and you started walking side by side towards the end of the hallway.

The walk was silent, some teachers passed by you and greeted Joel. He was taller than you by a lot, in sneakers you reached his shoulder, you were ridiculously small next to him, and that's why you started wearing high-heeled boots, not so high but at least they made you reach a little above his jaw. You felt that you were perceived as more mature, more at your age, because when you wore sneakers very few looked at you, that included him.

You felt more confident in boots, you felt more attractive even to yourself. As the years went by, you changed your style, you took out clothes that were very old, that you didn't use, that were no longer your style, and you replaced them with wide pants, long but cute skirts, short schoolgirl skirts, plaid skirts, t-shirts with a little cleavage, showing back, warmer or darker colors, You didn't like the color so much, and you felt like you changed the way everyone saw you, you looked more mature to some people, but you only cared about impressing 1.

Joel opened the room where the class would be, let you in first to which you thanked him in a low voice, you went to the places in the front row, you arranged your things while you saw Joel arrange his on the desk. Being the only two presences inside the room felt weird in a way, or for you it was, you felt nervous, you tried not to feel that way but it was impossible to see him in profile, you were noticing new things, his beard was grayer in some areas.

You noticed that his chest was more muscular as well as his back, it was already wide, when he was serious his jaw looked strong, the muscles of his neck were marked, he was so sensual, you thought it impossible that at some point in your life you would like a teacher, you would never have thought that someone twice your age would have you like that.

His hands were very big, almost the size of a tablet, if he put them on your face it would cover the whole face, the veins were slightly marked along his arms, even if at that moment you couldn't see them, you knew they were there, under that tanned skin, you loved how those dress pants fit his thighs, as the belt marked the beginning of his hips, and when he was in profile you couldn't help but look at his crotch, as a bulge was present, effortlessly. And because of that, you knew he was well-endowed.

You were still watching him sitting from your seat, when his voice took you out of your thoughts

"Why do you always arrive so early?" He looked at you with a smile that made his eyes small

"Mmh because I don't like to be unpunctual" he smiled at you in the same way

"I see" while telling you that and maintaining eye contact he took a book from his portfolio, look at it and walk towards you with his eyes on it.

Standing in front of you, he look at you and hold out the book.

"What is this?" You took it in your hand, rubbing your fingers with his.

"It helped me a lot when I was in college, it helped me understand a lot of topics, some of which we will see in class," he said while watching you study the cover of the book.

"And why do you give this to me?" You looked him in the eyes confused

"because I know how much you like to read, and I know that you love to read about these topics, apart from that it will help you to study some topics before we see them in class, and you are a good student, I want you to understand the potential you have and you can be more confident when you participate" he looked you in the eyes with a look that you never seen before, his eyes looked so pure, his voice went down 2 tones making his voice sound hoarse but a the same time softer.

You stood silently looking at it, saw the book in your hands and looked back at him.

"how do you remember I like reading about this?"

"Oh, last semester you mentioned it, the first day" he said returning to the desk

"do you remember everything we tell you?" you sounded confused and with a bit of amusement in your voice

"only the important things" He squinted at you with a squinting smile as he sat in the chair behind the desk.

you just looked at the book to avoid his gaze, you could feel your cheeks burning from the comment and Joel…he turned his gaze away from his laptop screen to look at you and cover his smile with the palm of his hand as he saw you blushing as you looked at the book.

Did he want to tell you that what you said was important? Did he want to make you feel important? Were you important to him? That's why he gave you the book?

Lots of damn questions and no answers, but the nerves were impossible to hide, you felt his gaze leave the screen to see you, you only looked at your research notes, you felt that time passed slowly, and no one came, you crossed your legs with nerves as you moved them, your hands were cold.

God why you're a damn nervous girl, focus, can't know that he has that effect on you.

The classroom was completely silent, only the keys of his laptop were the only ones present, and you were sure that your breathing was heard, when you saw that the door opened and a couple of students entered waving at Joel. Among them was your friend, you released all the air you had holding in your lungs and smiled nervously at her as she walked up to you and sat down next to you.

"Why did it take you so long?" you scolded her quietly

"I'm sorry, I ran into Brat in the hallway," she said, blushing as she touched your hands "Why are your hands so cold?" His voice sounded a little louder in the room, drawing Joel's gaze to you

"It's cold," you removed your hand abruptly as you evaded his gaze. She looked at Joel, he looked away and turned it to his papers and then at you

"Were you two alone?"

you didn't say anything

"That's what happens to you for being too punctual" she said mockingly, you looked at her offended

The class passed quickly, you were grateful because every time he explained you could notice that his gaze returned to you every second, no matter how much you loved it and begged him to see you, the nerves consumed you, you didn't participate for the same reason, it was too much pressure that you were putting on yourself, your head was playing you wrong this time. At the end you wanted to run out of the room, you knew that in the next class he would reproach you but today you couldn't deal with it, no no.

But you still had to hand over the research that left off homework. You followed your friend from behind, got to the desk, left your work on top of the others, but your friend waited for him to finish talking to the girl who had "corrected" you last class.

Ugh radiates so much hypocrisy.

"I put a lot of effort into the work, in the end I added extra information that I read in a book, it was very stimulating what you left us Professor Miller" she said with a flirtatious smile as she leaned back at the desk

"I'm glad it has helped you, being a new student you should know that I leave a lot of research and essays but from your point of view, I like to know what you think about each topic we touch on in class" Joel replied while taking the essays in hand and putting them in his portfolio.

"Oh I know, you'll get a lot out of me professor Miller"

Wow, yes it sounded blatant

Joel only nodded half-smiling, the girl said goodbye and your friend spoke.

"Mr. Miller my essay itself doesn't have much information" Joel cocked his head crossing his arms "I know you said 3 to 4 pages but I didn't get that much information that was different from the others" she smiled falsely

"Uh uh and your own words? Because I guess not everything that comes is from Internet pages, is it?" he said with an interrogative look and a raised eyebrow

"Am no, it's not"

Lie, you remember perfectly 1 day before what she told you.

FLASHBACK

"He clearly said that you could only put little information from the internet and justify it with our words, you can't copy everything without giving credit to its authors" you told her while typing on your laptop

"Shut up, he won't notice, besides the AI will help me" she smiled while the artificial intelligence did its work

"you forget that he does read the works, He's going to notice"

"He's your boyfriend, if he notices you give him some kisses and that's it"

"Hey!" you threw a pillow at her

end of the flashback

"Okay, I'll read it and we'll see," he picked up the essay and put it in his briefcase.

"Thank you teacher"

you said goodbye to him and before leaving you turned to look at him and obviously, he was already looking at you, he just smiled at you and turned his gaze away from you.

Am I crazy or is he paying more attention to me?

The energy felt different being with him, it felt on both sides, but it was very easy for you to get excited and misimitate things, to see things in a different way than the other person does. He was your teacher and you didn't want to think that you had a chance, even if your friend made fun of you, she still noticed how his attention towards you had changed, but he had always been nice to you, he always encouraged you, but for some reason he was different this time.

Joel´s pov

When she left the classroom, he could feel his heart beating normally again.

What stupidity are you doing joel?!

The only thing he needed was to feel that way, he couldn't, he knew it was wrong to do it, she was a student, he genuinely wanted to help her excel, he knew that she had several interests within the area of philosophy, he wanted her to have all the possibilities for her to be motivated.

He wanted to teach her everything he knew, he wanted her to learn from him, she was so smart that it was hard for him to see how she didn't know that, how she racked her brain last semester by pushing her brain so hard into a way of learning that wasn't suitable for her.

He was willing to help her understand in every way possible to make it easy for her this time. But I'd be lying if he said he didn't want to know more about her… About who she really was, to know why she is so passionate about philosophy, to know if she was the pretty, polite girl that all the teachers talk about. But one thing he did know, she was the prettiest girl his eyes had seen in a while.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #fanfic #smut #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #x reader #joel x reader #joel x you #teacher x student #hot teacher #teacher crush #teacher attachment #teacher! joel

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weareapackofstrays · 1 month

Text

Come Light Me Up // Ji Changmin

Genre: Non-Idol college au, classmates to lovers?

Pairing: Changmin (Q) x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Cursing, Masturbation. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: 3,305

A/n: Loosely inspired by a dream I had last night. Wrote this one quickly so there will probably be some mistakes. Graphics by @saradika-graphics!

It was the start of a new semester. While the first day of classes made some students nervous, you looked forward to it. Everything smelled like fresh books, paper, and ink. There were only two more semesters left until graduation and you couldn’t contain your excitement. A few of your classes this semester were completely online, which was convenient for you since you had to take on a few extra shifts to pay for this year's books and labs.

After clicking the zoom link to start your first class of the day, you scan over the 20 or so faces blinking back at you for anyone familiar. While you recognize a few students from previous classes, one unfamiliar face grabs your attention most. Your eyes fall on a man who you had not seen before. He is dressed in a simple black t-shirt and grey sweats. You notice he is sitting on his bed as if he just woke up and his ruffled dark hair definitely looks suspiciously like bedhead. He was too casual and it irked you. While you weren’t a perfectionist, you still felt like how you presented yourself on the first day of class set a precedent for the rest of the semester. You force your attention away from him to focus on your Professor’s greetings.

As class progressed you kept catching yourself staring at the student who you learned was named Changmin. He seemed so uninterested in class and it looked like something was distracting him off camera. It annoyed you and you weren’t sure why. Did you find him attractive? Of course. Changmin was very good looking, but he gave off douchey vibes so you did your best to pay him no mind. A task that would prove difficult.

The days pass by and you still find yourself totally bothered by this guy. Your eyes kept finding Changmin on the screen every time you attended class. And to make things worse, even though he never seemed like he was listening to the lecture, he still got every answer correct when the professor asked. It was starting to piss you off. I’m sure if anyone was watching you they could visibly see your annoyance and unbeknownst to you, someone was watching. Sometimes you would catch Changmin’s eyes staring right into the camera and you could swear they were looking back at you. But there was no way…right?

If there was anything he was paying attention to, it was you. Changmin noticed you on the first day of class too and every time you popped up on the screen he would look you over. He found it amusing the way you would be dressed up, make up done, even for a Zoom class. Like today for example, your hair was in a half updo, clipped back with a large pink bow. You were wearing what he assumed was either a blouse or dress with puffy white sleeves that only annoyingly teased your cleavage. He couldn’t tell if you had lipstick on, but your lips looked particularly glossy…and delicious. Changmin could tell you were the type to be a teacher’s pet and the idea of corrupting you started to quickly creep into his mind. He watched every facial expression of yours, noticing how excited you would get when you knew the answer to something and the way you’d grow agitated every time he beat you to the answer. Your perfect facade faltering before him. He especially loved the way your lips would pout when you were trying to concentrate. It drove him crazy. He could no longer hold back so he decided to take a chance.

During the third week of class, your Professor announced that there would be a test coming up this Friday. You tried to remain calm, but the thought of a test so soon gave you anxiety. A ding from your zoom chat pops up interrupting your thoughts. It’s a private message from a classmate. You squint at your screen to see who the message is from. Surely, you must be misreading. It was from Changmin?!

Changmin: hey, wanna study together?

You have not actually interacted with Changmin before, in fact, you're not even sure you have ever exchanged words. The extent of your interactions was usually him saying something that bothered you and you rolling your eyes at him several times throughout the class. You continue to stare at his message. Hesitating for a few more moments, you finally start to type. Changmin watches you intently, anticipating your reply.

Y/n: Why do you want to study with me?

Changmin smiles while reading your message.

Changmin: because we’re probably the only two in this class who actually give a shit

You snort, forgetting your audio is on and quickly rush to mute yourself. Changmin watches your cheeks turn pink with embarrassment and laughs. Even though the conversation is private, you still look around at the other classmates nervously wondering if they know what’s going on.

Changmin: you’re cute

You bite your lip to hold back a smile not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Changmin watches you roll your eyes at him, as you usually do, and it ignites his hunger further.

Y/n: Fine. Changmin: i’ll zoom you tomorrow night? Y/n: Sure, 8pm tomorrow then. Just ping me. Changmin: 8 is kind of late, no?

You glare at him briefly before responding.

Y/n: I get off work at 7:00 so I will need some time to get back and change. Changmin: sounds good. I’ll call you at 8pm sharp. Can’t wait!

Ignoring his last message, you turn your attention back to the Professor. Changmin can’t erase the grin on his face for the rest of class.

The next day you rush home after work to hop in the shower. Butterflies start to dance in your belly, but you do your best to shoo them away. You consider dressing up like you usually do for class, but worry Changmin will think you’re trying too hard. Ugh, why do you care what Changmin thinks, Y/n? You settle on a t-shirt and shorts with some cozy socks. Looking at the clock on your laptop, you start to feel the nerves as the time approaches 8pm. You continue to look at the clock and your watch every few seconds until finally the Zoom call notification pops up on your desktop. Shooting up from your chair, you quickly take a look in the mirror one last time to check your appearance before answering.

“Changmin.” You say simply, lacking any emotion.

“Y/n,” he responds with a hint of amusement.

You grab your textbook and open it. “I figured we could start from the beginning to refresh our memory first before diving into the most recent lectures.”

Changmin smiles, placing a pair of black rimmed glasses on. He looks good and he knows it. “Whatever you say.” He reaches for his book as well and opens it to the first chapter. “I’m all yours.” You grimace and give him a pointed look. He laughs and you watch the way his Adam's apple bobs on his long neck. He crosses his arms in front of him and your attention shifts to the curve of his biceps. Changmin is wearing a white t-shirt and what look to be his usual grey sweats. He notices your attention and tilts his head curiously. “Are we going to get started?” Your eyes dart up to meet his realizing you’ve been caught looking at him. You clear your throat and thumb through a few pages.

Changmin actually turns out to be a decent study partner and you're shocked at how thorough his notes are. After about 20 minutes into your study session, Changmin decides he’s bored and wants to change the subject.

“Why do you get dressed up for every class?” You look up from your note taking and cock an eyebrow at him.

“I could ask you the same.”

“But I don't.”

“Exactly.” You throw him a sarcastic smile. He smirks in response.

“So…?” He’s waiting for your answer. You sigh and place your pen down.

“Because I can.”

He nods. “Fair enough.”

“Why do you care?” you ask, resuming your writing.

Changmin places his thumb and index finger on his chin to ponder. When he doesn't immediately reply you look back up at him. “I suppose I just find it interesting when the rest of the class are practically in pajamas or off camera. Are you trying to impress someone?”

“Maybe I just like looking my best.”

“But right now you look pretty casual.”

You look down at your attire and internally curse. Maybe you should have dressed up. As if reading your thoughts, Changmin quickly adds, “Not that you don’t look good. I like the way you look tonight too.”

You’re not sure how to reply to his flirtation attempt so you try to get back on task.

“I think the Professor is definitely going to have chapter 3 on the exam. He dedicated two of our lectures to it so I think we should review our mutual notes.”

Changmin pushes back on his chair, balancing on the back legs. He places his hands behind his head. “Mhmm,” he simply hums in agreement. You look up from your book and notice Changmin’s shirt has ridden up, exposing his midriff. His stomach is taut and toned. You try to continue your thought, but end up stuttering over your words. He reaches down and rubs his abs and that’s when you notice the veins leading down his stomach disappearing into his briefs. Changmin’s legs are slightly parted, giving you a full view of his lean body.

“Um,” You try to compose yourself, but struggle. “We..um..page 46…” Words fail as you start to imagine where those thick veins lead to.

“What was that, Y/n? Didn’t quite catch what you said.” You look at him and frown. He’s teasing you and you know it.

“What are you doing?” You ask, impatience in your tone.

“I see the way you watch me in class, Y/n.” Pleasure shoots down your spine and you shiver.

Attempting to feign ignorance, you turn away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. I watch you too. Every time I see you roll your eyes at me I think about stuffing my cock down your throat to teach you a lesson.” You drop the pen in your hand.

“Wh-what did you just say?”

Changmin leans into the camera. His eyes shift down to stare at your mouth. “I think about the way those pretty lips would feel wrapped around my dick.” He closes his eyes briefly and moans as if imagining it right now. “Drives me wild. I look forward to seeing you every class. Thinking about ways I can piss you off.”

“Changmin…you shouldn’t say these things,” you squeak.

“I’ll stop if you really want me to.” He leans back in his chair again and crosses his arms. The veins on his toned forearms poke out and you gulp at the thought of them around you, his hands gripping your neck. You shake your head to rid yourself of these thoughts. Changmin smirks and meets your eyes. “Do you want me to stop?” He palms his groin and you realize he’s hard.

“Fuck,” you say to yourself. Changmin places a hand around the outline of his dick and starts to stroke himself. You bite your lip as you watch him, feeling yourself growing wetter with each stroke. His eyes are on you as he slowly rubs up and down. A low groan escapes his throat.

“No,” you finally say.

“No what?” His voice is hoarse.

“No, don’t stop.”

Changmin pushes his sweats down slightly to give you a better view of his hard dick and for better access.

“Like what you see?” You nod enthusiastically and he chuckles.

“Does baby wanna see my cock?” You nod again.

“Use your words, Y/n,” he says sternly.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“I can’t hear you, baby.”

“Yes, I wanna see it.” Your voice is more confident.

“And what will you give me in return?”

Meeting his eyes, you ask, “What do you want, Changmin?”

“Take your shirt off.”

Completely committed to whatever this game is, you agree to pull your shirt over your head, leaving you just in your pink lacy bra.

“Mmm so pretty. What type of pants are you wearing?”

You tilt the screen of your laptop to give him a view of your whole body. You’re in a pair of sleep shorts. Pushing your desk chair out of the way, you stand. Changmin looks you up and down, finally getting the chance to admire your full form.

“Take your pants off, sweetheart.”

You shake your head. “Your shirt first.”

Changmin considers refusing you, but he thinks your demanding tone is hot and does as you say. His body is chiseled. You’re surprised at how tiny his waist is and it makes your mouth water. Starry eyed and mouth agape, you stare unabashedly now as he resumes touching himself.

“Y/n, take your shorts off.” He is growing impatient with each touch of his hand. You stand and drop them to the floor, revealing a matching pink lace thong.

“You got all dressed up for me, baby?”

“No…”

“I bet you wanted to show it off. Hoped this would happen, huh? Fucking slut.”

You scoff. “You’re so full of yourself.” Despite your words, you can feel how aroused you are. Feeling bold, you sit on the edge of your bed and spread your legs, giving him a view of your clothed pussy.

“Fuck, Y/n.” He starts to stroke himself faster.

“Take your pants off, Changmin.”

“Ooh, say my name again, baby!” he moans.

“Please Changmin,” you whine as need starts to take over you.

He stands and slides his sweats off. The head of his cock is peeking out of his briefs and you lean towards the camera a little for a better view. You want to touch yourself, but still feeling shy, you resign to rubbing your thighs instead. He sits back down, keeping his legs spread for you.

“I want to see your boobs.”

You chuckle and unhook your bra without hesitation. You're horny and want this as much as him now. He watches it fall to the ground. You move closer to the camera so he can see your breasts better and now his mouth drops. You smile at the way his body reacts to you.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Y/n. I just want to wrap my lips around your tits. Swirl my tongue until your nipples are hard.” You suck in a breath trying to hold back a moan. “Are they hard right now?” He wonders aloud.

You gently rub over your nipple knowing full well they’re erect. “Yes,” you say.

“Fuck I bet they taste amazing.”

“I wanna taste you, Min.” His eyes widen, surprised by your candor.

“Yeah, baby? Want me to fill your mouth with my come?” You nod eagerly.

“Let me see you,” you demand.

He shakes his head. “Need you to earn it, baby girl. What do I get in return if I take my cock out for you?” You take a moment to think, then sit back on your bed. Leaning on your hands, you spread your legs wide again and dip your fingers into your panties. A breathy moan escapes you at the contact. Changmin groans in response. “Yeah, baby. Touch yourself, like that.” You toss your head back at the feeling of your fingers on your sensitive clit. “Don’t take your eyes off of me, Y/n.” You face him again and continue to rub while he stares.

“Well?” You moan out. He nods understanding your question. Changmin lifts his waist and pushes his briefs off. His cock springs back, slapping against his abs while precum dripples down the sides. He looks so hard and you can tell he needs relief. You lick your lips at the sight of his long cock. “Touch yourself too, Changmin. Get off with me.”

“Fuck yeah, baby.” He spits in his hand and starts to fist his cock, squeezing his red tip with each pump. You pick up your pace, the sounds of your arousal and his slick fist echo around you. Your breathing starts to quicken and you can’t stop the moans that leave your lips. “Stick your fingers inside and pretend it’s me.” You do as you're told and try to reach your sensitive spot.

“Mmm not enough. I need you, baby,” you whine.

“I know, I wish I was there with you. Next time.”

“Next time?”

“Yeah, next time I’ll come over and fuck you for real.”

“Come over now then.”

“But you look so pretty touching yourself for me.” He tries to match your pace as you push in and out of yourself spreading your wetness back over your clit.

“Feels so good, Min. Wish you could have a taste.”

“Oh, fuuckkk. Baby, have a taste for me.” You pause momentarily, never having tasted yourself before, but you want to please him. Removing your fingers, you insert them into your mouth and sigh at the taste on your tongue. Changmin curses and starts to pump faster.

“Such a, fuck…such a good girl.” He can’t hide his moans anymore and you're surprised at how high pitched they are. It turns you on further so you return your fingers to your clit to rub harder. “I’m close, Y/n. So fucking close, but I wanna come with you.”

“Wait.” Impatiently, you take your panties off giving him a full view of your pussy. Changbin bites his lip as he looks over your body, watching the way your face contorts as you pleasure yourself. His orgasm is fast approaching.

“I can’t wait to fuck you, baby. I’m going to destroy you.” His words help bring you closer to your release, pleasure building with each bump to your clit. Your ministrations increase and you can feel the band about to snap.

“Min, I’m, I’m-” tears start to spring at the corners of your eyes. You’re so close. “Ah, ah, ah, ah.” Your cries increase.

“Yea, baby, fuck! I’m gonna come too.”

“I’m…Changmin, I’m…coming!” You gasp. Changmin shouts your name as he comes with you, spilling white hot liquid over his hand. He continues to pump himself through his orgasm and you do the same. Moaning and rubbing until your thighs start to shake. He looks into your eyes as the two of you try to recover your breathing. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears.

“Y/n, you’re so beautiful,” Changmin says suddenly. The compliment makes your heart flutter. He looks down at his covered hand, amazed at how hard he came.

“If I was there I’d lick you clean,” you say.

“I bet you would. Guess you’ll just have to show me next time.”

“Next time.” You agree.

Changmin walks off screen to wash his hand so you put your shirt and shorts back on. When he comes back, you sit back in your chair at your desk. Changmin notices how flushed your cheeks are. His attention makes you feel hot all over. You both sit in silence. He struggles to think of what to say next and you giggle at how nervous he suddenly seems.

“Not getting shy on me now are you, Min?” He rolls his eyes at your teasing and you both laugh.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Not sure if this study session was too helpful…”

Shaking your head, you chuckle before giving him a wave. “See you.”

“Good night, Y/n.” Changmin returns your wave.

“Good night.” You both smile at each other before closing out the zoom.

End.

116 notes · View notes

sehunniepotwrites · 1 year

Text

Head Over Broomsticks | J.JH

SYNOPSIS. When your friends are tired of watching you and your crush go around in circles, they take matters into their own hands. Putting their Advanced Potions skills to the test, Donghyuck and Chenle conjure up a powerful truth serum and slip it in your drink right before a Quidditch game, which leads to a few inappropriate comments about No. 77, Jeong Jaehyun, of Gryffindor’s Quidditch team. This would’ve been fine if you were just a regular spectator but you are much more than that--you’re the Announcer and everyone is subjected to hear your unfiltered thoughts. Just great.

PAIRING. Gryffindor Beater!Jaehyun x (f) Quidditch Announcer!Reader GENRE. Hogwarts!AU, Sports!AU, Quidditch!AU, humor, fluff, suggestive WORD COUNT. 3.5k+ WARNINGS. reader makes a lot of suggestive comments/innuendos that are also Quidditch puns (referring to Jaehyun’s parts as a bat, bludger, stick, broom, etc.), profanity, kiss, mentions of food and drinks, spiking a drink with a truth potion, no explicit scenes!

DISCLAIMER. This is work of fiction. I do not own the people/characters and concepts I have written about. You cannot translate or copy my work.

“Hello, Hogwarts, and welcome to the first Quidditch game of the season!”

A deafening roar made its way through the Quidditch Pitch. The game itself tapped on the centuries old Slytherin versus Gryffindor rivalry that brought everyone to the stands. Each bench was filled to the brim, students and staff alike huddling together to all warm the wooden benches. Those who weren’t able to find a seat surrounded the Pitch’s borders, straining their necks for hours to watch the game taking place in the sky, hands covered with gloves and filled with flags to support their beloved team.

Professor Minho Choi, the official Hogwarts referee and the school’s very own flying instructor, stood in the middle of the Pitch with the wiggling chest. Everyone watched in anticipation as he spoke to the players, green and red, hovering above him. No one could hear his exact words but you all assumed it was warnings to play a nice clean game. All players closed their eyes on his command. His scuffed, leather boot kicked the side of the chest, releasing all the required equipment for the game to start.

“Out come the Bludgers. The Golden Snitch comes next; that’s worth a whopping 150 points, if you don’t remember! Whichever team seeker snatches the fast flier first will earn those points and will end the game!” Choi’s gloved hands took hold of the Quaffle, taking a second to smile at the players, before tossing it into the air. “The Quaffle is released and the game begins!”

Amongst the spectators, of course, was you with your hands gripping the announcer’s microphone, usually dedicated to relaying every single move. And although you were initially excited to be at the game, where you would hear the angry swish of brooms along with the cheers and jeers, you were now hating every little second that passed. Why? Because, no matter how unfiltered your thoughts were when it came to Quidditch, it seemed that this time around, you were on another level.

“There goes number seventy-seven, Jaehyun Jeong of Gryffindor, hitting the Bludger away from his side of the field and onto the other. Oh, how I would let him beat me with his sti—” Your comment was interrupted by a wand poking your side. Professor Changmin Shim, the Gryffindor head, simply glared at you before jerking his head to the current game on the pitch. “Sorry, Professor!”

It wasn’t like you wanted to make comments such as that one out loud—your crush on the handsome Quidditch player was something you wanted to keep to yourself and your small group of friends. The thing was, no matter how hard you tried to restrain them, they just spilled out of your mouth. The words flew out faster than the Golden Snitch zooming around the field—there was no way of stopping them.

You couldn’t catch your words.

Merlin’s beard, you could barely keep your mouth shut to begin with. That was how you ended up at the next Hogwarts Quidditch Announcer, following in the footsteps of the loudmouth Lee Jordan and the mischievous Baekhyun Byun. Despite that fact, you were never that explicit when commenting on plays. The unfiltered thoughts resonating through the microphone was all thanks to your idiot friends, Donghyuck Lee and Chenle Zhong.

“You are dead to me,” you whispered harshly at your friends.

“You always say that, mate,” Donghyuck said as he stretched, resting his palms behind his thick head of hair.

“When are you going to actually act on your threats?” Chenle added on with a smirk.

“Today. Say your goodbyes, boys,” you say with an evil glint in your sharp eyes, doing their best to follow the plays. You leaned forward and made a comment about Slytherin’s swift Keeper blocking the Quaffle from entering the middle hoop, earning a cheer from their fans.

“How long does this potion last?”

“Six hours, give or take,” Chenle recited from memory. Two hours had passed since you consumed it and each game lasted around two hours. Hypothetically, you would have to deal with the effects of the serum for two more hours. “Why?”

“Time to find your crushes and blurt every dirty little secret you rascals have.”

There was a reason you three got along. You were all menaces. Their eyes widened and before they could beg for your forgiveness, your eyes caught the Pitch’s referee making a call. Leaning into the mic, your voice boomed throughout the yard. “FOUL!” Your volume increased as the passion for the game overcame you. “Slytherin was just issued a foul for cobbing, rightfully so! KEEP YOUR SHARP ELBOWS TO YOURSELVES, YOU DAMN SNAKES! I’M LOOKING AT YOU, NAKAMOTO! I HOPE YOU DON’T MAKE IT TO THE HOUSE FINALS!”

“Hey!” Donghyuck placed his hand over his heart, pretending to be offended by your comment.

“Oh, don’t get all soft on me now,” you roll your eyes at him. “You’re a damn snake for pulling that stunt and you know it.”

“Hiss hiss, motherfucker.”

“Ten points from Slytherin,” Professor Taeyeon Kim blurted out from the bench behind you.

Donghyuck and Chenle’s big eyes became circles at their own house head’s betrayal. “Professor Kim, what gives?!”

“No need to curse, Lee, hold yourself with dignity,” your instructor held her ground, her eyes not even leaving the field to give her two students a chance.

Smart yet dumb was how you would describe your meddling friends. Much like every friend group, each person had their own strengths. Donghyuck and Chenle’s strong suits just so happened to be Potions and they always used it to their advantage. Because you were afraid to confess your feelings to Jaehyun, the two decided to take matters into their own grimy hands. They slipped Veritaserum—a truth serum—into your morning coffee that you chugged before rushing to the Pitch.

Your liking towards Jaehyun developed over time. It didn’t hit you all at once like your other crushes. In fact, you didn’t like him at all at first. His cockiness when it came to his athletic ability irked you in your previous years as a Quidditch fan. Jaehyun’s confidence grew throughout the years, his second-year benchwarmer days long behind him once he had a chance to debut his skills. Some people wanted to be him, others just wanted him.

Others much like yourself.

Especially when all he would do was blush in your presence. (And yet, you still couldn’t bring yourself to confess.)

If anything, it made Jaehyun all the more attractive in your eyes. He could barely make it through a Friday Potions lesson with you as his partner once, stumbling over his words as he read the recipe out to you. It turned your cauldron into a ticking bomb, the gooey substance exploding all over your robes. Jaehyun, who was never a klutz when it came to these things, flushed with embarrassment while you stared blankly at him, hands filled with what was meant to be your exit ticket at the end of class. Professor Yunho Jeong made the two of you stay behind to clean the mess up as he graded your papers. The Gryffindor coach, who doubled as the potions professor, was secretly entertained by his star athlete’s lack of coordination and words the whole time.

“God, I’m so sorry, I really don’t know how I mixed up the words like that,” Jaehyun reiterated while he scrubbed the sticky floor. His red and gold tie dangling too and fro with each miniscule movement. The athlete was on his hands and knees right next to you with his long, white sleeves rolled up above his elbows. His robe and sweater vest were long forgotten, settled on his assigned lab bench, mingling with your own belongings.

“Jaehyun, it’s okay. People make mistakes like this all the time–”

“I know but–”

“Jae,” you said, clearly exasperated, “for the last time, it’s okay.”

When your classmate failed to reply, you turned to see a redness spread from his ears, down to his cheeks, and dot his precious nose. He blinked slowly, pretty mouth opened just a tad.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” you wiped your face with the back of your palm, pushing your loose strands out of your sight. “Is there something on my face? I thought I already wiped it all off.”

Your comment pulled him from his thoughts, his hands shaking in front of you. “No, there’s nothing on your face. It’s not that.”

“Then what?” you poked the bear, shifting your attention until it was fully on him. Jaehyun looked at you with a bashful expression and you jutted your jaw towards him, giving him that silent reassurance.

“You called me Jae,” he said after a beat, “you’ve never done that before. Only my friends call me Jae.”

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to, it just slipped.”

“Wait, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just surprised,” Jaehyun laughed nervously, “that’s all.”

“If you don’t want me to call you that, Jaehyun, you can just say so, it’s alright.” Gritting your teeth, you went back to work, adding an insane amount of pressure into your scrubbing. You wanted the cold floors to swallow you whole.

A warm hand rested itself on your forearm, halting your movements. “You can call me Jae.” His soft and sweet brown irises found yours, the tiny corners of his eyes lifting up as he smiled.

“Are you sure?”

“As sure as I can be.” Jaehyun’s hand gave you a little squeeze and a giggle escaped you. Turning away from him, you shyly continued your work, way too flustered to maintain eye contact.

Another second passed before Jaehyun’s low voice spoke again, “Call me whatever you like.”

Even after that exchange, Jaehyun still felt extremely apologetic for putting you through that on a Friday. He felt so bad that he went out of his way to find your friends to ask for your favorite dessert. The same dessert Donghyuck and Chenle mentioned showed up via owl delivery with the sweetest note on a Sunday morning. You found Jaehyun in class the next week, thanking him for the thoughtful gesture, failing to mention that you saw him frantically fighting a younger student for the last dessert in the case at Honeydukes. The moment remained in your head years later, when you did, in fact, call him whatever you liked.

“He certainly has quite the Bludger, doesn’t he? Jeong is so hot,” you swooned as Jaehyun leaned back on his broomstick, padded arms stretching towards the sky. He snuck a glance towards you, eyes meeting across the way, and you just knew that his red ears were hiding underneath his brown helmet.

Your focus wasn’t even on the game anymore as the seekers dove towards the grass in an attempt to catch the snitch. You had tunnel vision with the student that claimed your heart.

Number twenty-nine of the Gryffindor team, Chaser John Suh, decided it was high time to stop right in front of your stand. His shouting voice was loud enough for your microphone to pick up, projecting his comment throughout the field. “He really does, I’ve seen it with my own two eyes!”

Ripples of laughter moved through the audience like a wave.

“I’d like to take a ride on seventy-seven’s broom, if you know what I mean,” you shot back, eyes trailing said player as he swung his bat to deflect a Bludger.

Fuck, why couldn’t your brain just shut up? You cringed at every single lewd comment that escaped your motor mouth, slapping your forehead repeatedly without end.

As that comment rang throughout the stadium, Jaehyun’s broom shifted in your direction so quickly, the boy almost lost his steadiness. Known for his insane balancing skills, Jaehyun wasn’t one to be easily knocked off his feet; after all, his job in the sport was to maintain his balance while handling his hat to ward away unwanted Bludgers. You, however, were the only one who could make him this way.

Johnny knew it and so did the rest of the Gryffindor team. And as his best friend and fellow teammate, it was Johnny’s job to embarrass Jaehyun, even if it cost their team losing the game. The Gryffindor members grew tired of Jaehyun’s flustered state whenever he came near you. The confidence in him disappeared every time the beater flew past you and Johnny knew pushing the buttons of your thoughts would do the job.

“I think everyone knows what you mean, sweetheart,” Johnny laughed, “I’m sure he wouldn’t be opposed to it!”

“Suh, don’t you dare make me take points away from my own house!” Professor Shim hissed, pointing his wand towards the center of the field.

“Sir, yes, sir!” The Chaser saluted with a grin, zooming back into position.

The game continued with your usual distracted commentary, the animated remarks amplifying tenfold when it came to player seventy-seven, which made the match all the more interesting. For an opening game of the season, it was the closest match the school had seen in years: 210-200 with Slyterin barely in the lead.

“Slytherin Chaser trio–Nakamoto, Ten Lee, and Yangyang Liu–speed their way through in the famed Hawkhead Attacking formation, to force the Gryffindor Chasers aside. A great tactic for the snakes, may I add and OH–Chaser Suh is on their tail, zooming in behind–NO, WAIT–next to them, fast enough to break their tight triangle! AMAZING WORK, SUH! The Quaffle is now in his hands. He’s going towards the other end of the field with Jeong following behind, deflecting all the Bludgers Slytherin throws Suh’s way.” Your eyes never left the dynamic duo as they inched towards the hoops belonging to their opponents. Your vision flitted to your crush, who fell into place right next to Johnny, broom in one hand and bat swinging around in circles on the other. His gaze resembled a radar, grazing the Pitch for the incoming hardballs that were most definitely going to fly Johnny’s way. Jaehyun barely managed to knock out another ball that was aimed to harm Johnny with his bat before the elder took the clear shot in front of him.

“AND HE SCORES! GRYFFINDOR AND SLYTHERIN ARE NOW TIED AND IT’S ALL TO JEONG’S BEAUTIFUL ASSIST DURING SUH’S THROW!” Your fingers pressed on the button of the scoreboard, increasing the number on Gryffindor’s side. Your loyalties were as clear as day. “Jeong, what else can those hands do? I’d try ‘em out for size.”

“Bloody hell, someone please get her off the mic before I do it myself,” Professor Shim muttered more to himself than to anyone else.

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that, Professor?” Donghyuck smirked, the gleam in his eye glowing as brightly as ever.

“Ten points from Slytherin,” the teacher announced, eyes still focused on the game. He swore that particular duo reminded him of the legendary Weasley twins that were in his year during his time at Hogwarts. Donghyuck’ s grin immediately dropped.

“Professor!” Chenle tried to protest.

“Each.” Both Slytherins felt their shoulders sink. They could practically picture the green sand in their hourglass decrease.

There was barely time to chuckle at their misery when a power play occurred right before your very eyes. You felt the two Seekers–Renjun Huang of Slytherin and Mark Lee of Gryffindor–fly past you before you saw them, the athletes riding their brooms faster than the speed of light. There were no questions asked when they were picked to be their team’s representatives. Both boys, although young, were lithe speedsters that were hard to spot with a normal eye. Even the hardcore fans at Hogwarts had a rough time keeping their eyes on their teammates.

“Off the Seekers go, towards the Slytherin’s end of the Pitch, following the Snitch wherever it may go. Whoever gets it first will break the tie and win the game. Lee’s on enemy territory with almost no one to defend him–a bat just hit a Bludger right in Mark’s direction with two Chasers locking him in–AND A QUICK SAVE FROM JEONG ALLOWS LEE TO BREAK FREE AND CONTINUE ON HIS QUEST FOR THE SNITCH! Great work, Jeong! Goodness, I’d kiss you if I could. Hell, I’d do whatever you want me to!”

A collective hiss of your name came from the professors surrounding you but at this point, you didn’t care.

The force of Jaehyun’s swing causes his broom to propel him straight in front of your stand. Jaehyun hovered before you with that dimpled grin and even though the wacky flying goggles blocked his cheeks, you just knew that they matched the color of his Gryffindor uniform. Maybe the surge of confidence came from his plays. Maybe it came from your unending compliments, but it was enough to make him draw his broom closer to where you sat, look straight into your eyes, and say, “Do whatever you want to me. I’d love it all.”

His act of courage caused your eyes to widen, grip the microphone in your hands with whitened knuckles, that you missed Mark Lee doing a deep dive straight for the grass with an outstretched hand, his fingers finally grabbing hold of the Snitch after two hours of flying.

A sharp jab to your side–courtesy of Donghyuck–snapped you back into reality. You were able to guess the results of the game by the way all the Gryffindors surrounded Mark, who was lifted on Johnny’s shoulders. But even as you announced the winners of the game–Gryffindor with 260 points–your eyes did not falter from Jaehyun Jeong. He did not rush to join his teammates. He stayed there, ripping his goggles off his eyes, to look right at you.

Jaehyun reached over to change the score on the board, his face loitering so close to yours. His lips were close enough to taste and the victory glow made him look like an angel in red. Jaehyun’s post-game look, with his messy helmet hair and sweat-slicked skin, was a sight for sore eyes, you couldn’t look away from him. You couldn’t even try.

“How about this Saturday?”

“What?”

“Saturday. You and me. Hogsmeade. How ‘bout it?”

“Really?”

Jaehyun’s pretty grin widened as you questioned him. “Really.”

“Okay, this Saturday. It’s a date.”

Jaehyun backed away to clear enough space to do a quick, nerdy little spin on his Starsweeper, making you laugh wholeheartedly at his cuteness. His broom led him straight to you once again. “I should head over to”–he jerked his head in the direction of his team–“celebrate with the rest of the guys but be my date to the afterparty?”

“That’d be a dream come true,” you admitted, the truth serum still working its wonders.

“Brilliant,” he chuckled in both awe and disbelief. “I’ll wait outside the Common Room for you.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Jaehyun flew away to join the rest of the Gryffindors, still throwing Mark in the air. He stopped midway on his path, when the crowds around you were thinning out and you were beginning to pack up your belongings. Like acting on instinct, his Starsweeper brought him back to you one more time. He yelled out your name, grabbing the attention of everyone still on the Pitch. They all turned into onlookers as he floated on air. His body was on the front end of the broom, hands resting at the tip and torso leaning towards you.

“One more thing before I go,” Jaehyun said. On his face was a lovesick expression, one that no one else could mimic.

You cocked your head to the side. “Yes?”

Jaehyun closed the distance between your lips with the slightest bit of pressure. You sighed into it, meeting him with a bit more eagerness that had him smiling into the kiss. He pressed another one and then another one, with a strong arm wrapping around your middle and the other snaking up to cup your jaw. It was the best victory kiss he could ever ask for.

His lips lingered and you could still feel his breathing as he balanced on the broom. His lashes tickled your skin before he drew back from your personal bubble. Jaehyun’s whole face was red, from the tips of his ears to the bottoms of his apple cheeks as he flew backwards, the broom already leading the way. “I’ll see you later, alright, lovely?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Jae.”

One truth serum was all it took for you to get the boy. For once, your blabbering mouth didn’t lead you to trouble. As much as you wanted to kill Chenle and Donghyuck for making you suffer, you supposed a thank you was in order as well. After all, they led you to the best feeling in the world, falling head over broomstick for Gryffindor’s all-star Beater, Jaehyun Jeong.

Even with twenty points taken away from your house for your lewd comments and your unexpected public display of affection, it was a great way to kick off another year at Hogwarts. With your mind and heart fluttering like the Golden Snitch in Mark’s hand, you couldn’t wait to see what else was in store.

AUTHOR’S HOWLER. Happy Jaehyun Day, my loves! My Valentine self is back, writing for Jaehyun again. I really missed writing for him <3 I hope everyone enjoys this lil fic. It’s been sitting in my drafts for years and I’m so happy it’s finally being released. I tried my best to make OC sound like Lee Jordan and stay true to the characters in the books. Please tell me what you think!

TAGLIST. @johtenrecs @emmybyeakitty @ppangjae @sokkigarden @kaepop-trash @suhnnyskiess @baekhyuns-lipchain @bebsky @bat-shark-repellant @renjuunsz @ferxanda @lebrookestore @yutaholic @alluringjae @justsayk @itsapapisongo @ashes23 @hyperfixationficrecs @bebskyy @misakiise @iwishiwasthemoontonight @inlovergirlsworld @tyongblr

NETWORKS. @neowritingsnet

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joelswritingmistress · 3 months

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You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 44

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

James had decided to keep his efforts quiet as he continued his parade around the Bank Street businesses in search of video footage from the night of the most recent murder. He didn't want some more experienced or egotistical officer to write off the lead he was on, and so he took it upon himself to privately go through the potential evidence collected.

The sneaker shop had been the first to hand over their footage, and while there was no clear shot of the corner the stranger from campus had rounded onto, there was still one helpful tip. The absence of the man or woman, in general, meant that they didn't get that far down the sidewalk.

O’Malley’s, after some grumbling from the co-owner, handed over their footage from that evening.

“Not trying to catch these regulars walking out of here drunk off their asses, are you?” Buck, the co-owner that James hadn't initially spoken with, asked with skepticism. “I ain't getting called out for being no rat. None of ‘em are disorderly here. They're good, paying customers.”

After some convincing, James managed to get his hands on the security tapes without much of a hassle, even being supported by a few of the same men who he’d spoken with initially.

Breaking down the tapes and landing on the exact minutes and seconds necessary to nail down some evidence proved to be a tedious job. And matching that up with the movement of the person in the shadows of Woodbridge was just as tricky.

He didn't make it as far as the sneaker shop. James let his first two fingers dance along the mouse in rapid clicks as he searched for the best angle of the sidewalks outside of O’Malley’s.

Nothing. No one. Nothing.

He knew the person had to be on the footage, unless they turned around and walked back but that would've been on the last Woodbridge tape. It wouldn't make sense for someone to do that, anyway, James knew.

His eyes were starting to sting from the constant staring at the screen. He was squinting, hoping to get a clear view. It had been two nights of sifting through information and videos; and James knew there was potential for several more evenings just like this one.

It's worth it. James didn't have to convince himself of that. It was worth it. The Lady Killer needed to have his ending.

The clock ticked past eleven o'clock, sending him deeper into the night. The school was quiet; still. James wondered if the Lady Killer could be out there right now, on the prowl just beyond his sight.

Was he lurking in the bushes? Stalking on foot? In a car? Did he wear a mask? Was he weilding a weapon?

The thought made him shudder and James refocused on the task at hand. Click. Click. Click.

And then, a shadow entered the frame. It was just that at first - a shadow. The shadow of a human being. It stretched out in almost dreamlike fashion, long and lanky in the odd street lighting.

A man, clad in all black, entered the frame next with a confident stride. His hood was pulled up over his head and James knew this was the same man he had seen in the Woodbridge tapes.

He opened a Manila folder, removing a printed out version of the figure’s still frame from the video on campus. The person was directly under a street light as he rounded off campus and onto Bank Street.

Black clothing. Hood up. Same build. Same time. That was the most important part. The time of the two shots was separated by less than a minute.

James zoomed in on the O’Malley’s footage, attempting to see the person’s face.

“Take your hood off, you bastard,” he said to himself. It was impossible to tell the identity of the person with the hood pulled up in the darkness.

James remained patient. He let the video tick down, frame by frame, and just before leaving the shot, he got his wish.

With two hands, a man pulled the hood down and let it fall against the top of his back. James felt his stomach do a somersault. He paused the video and zoomed in, selecting a setting to depixelate the image as much as possible.

James's eyes squinted for a second as he searched his brain. Something was familiar, but he couldn't immediately put his finger on it. This man was someone he recognized. But where had he seen him?

The lightbulb went on and the elation he had felt from this giant revelation was replaced with dread. He thought of (Y/N) immediately. She was a link in all of this, unbeknownst to her.

Oh fuck. James stared back at the image of the man and hit the button to print out the image for his folder - and, finally, for other law enforcement to view. He had his man. James was certain about that; but first, he began to dial (Y/N’s) phone number.

“Please pick up,” James begged. “Fucking pick up.”

…

Sweet room service. I still laid naked beneath the sheets when Dr. Miller answered a knock on the door donning just a white bathrobe. He returned a moment later barely able to carry the food delivery.

Chocolate covered strawberries and a bottle of champagne would've sounded cliche to me just a few months ago; but now that my lover was setting them down on the nightstand beside the bed I could wholeheartedly see why they were sort of the go-to in romantic settings and stories.

Dr. Miller sat on the edge of the bed and reached for a strawberry. He then leaned over to where I sat up partially against the headboard and placed the tip of it into my mouth.

I smiled as I took a bite and began to chew as he pecked my lips.

“You want a little champagne?” He asked, still hovering close to me.

I plucked the remainder of the strawberry from between his fingers. “I'd love some.” Finishing the bite, I popped the remaining strawberry into my mouth before biting off at the stem.

“Mmm..” Dr. Miller kissed me once more. He rose back up to his feet and reached for the bottle, unraveling the paper around the cork. As he began to carefully work at the cork I chuckled.

“Don't shoot your eye out,” I teased.

A loud pop echoed off the bottle’s interior and the foam only erupted slightly over the top. Dr. Miller looked directly at me, licking his fingers and then proceeded to pour us both a glass.

He handed one over to me and took his own glass as he slid back down beside me, resting a hand on my thigh beneath the sheet.

Dr. Miller’s gaze never left mine. We tapped our glasses together sending a gentle clink into the air. “To us?”

“To a long, happy life,” I began, wondering if I was getting ahead of myself.

“Together,” he finished my sentence and I smiled.

“Together,” I confirmed with a nod.

We lifted our glasses and took a sip. I drew my finger across my lips and then reached for another chocolate covered strawberry, this time reaching over to place it in Dr. Miller’s mouth.

His hand covered mine and he allowed me to place it halfway in his mouth.

“Why are these strawberries so damn sexy?” I asked with a laugh. Dr. Miller chuckled with me and finished the bite before removing another from the rectangular dish, only dunking it in some leftover chocolate drizzle on the plate.

Without warning, he let the chocolate drip down the center of my breasts, making me giggle and lay down flat. Dr. Miller lifted the sheet and a chill left goosebumps all along my body. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes as he let the chocolate trailed all the way down to the lowest part of my stomach.

I bit down on my bottom lip when he positioned his body above mine, kissing along the drizzle and lapping it up as he traveled lower and lower down my abdomen.

My hand tangled in his wavy hair. Fuck, I loved his hair. When he moved down below my waist my legs parted even more.

“Fuck Joel,” I whined, “Dr. Miller.”

Dr. Miller let out an amused chuckle and looked up at me. “You don't know what to call me,” he teased. “And it turns me on a little bit.”

A knock at the door made my body tense up and Dr. Miller glanced over his shoulder as he made his way back to his feet. He tossed the covers over me again.

“Should I get dressed?” I whispered, thinking it must've been one of his family members.

“Stay here for a sec.” Dr. Miller leaned his hands down onto the bed and left a smoldering kiss on my lips as his fingers made home between my legs. The act made me sigh into his mouth. “I'll be right back.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

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yoongsisbae · 1 year

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Meet Cute, Time Loop | KSJ

A story where Seokjin loves you before you love him before he loves you.

Fantasy AU. Seokjin x time traveler!reader

First of all, I never read the book The Time Traveler’s Wife. Okay, I did watch the movie with Rachel McAdams when I was a kid. And I started writing this before the HBO series, and got annoyed once I found out about it because I felt people would be like oh, you copied it, so I just stopped writing this story lol. But then with Seokjin’s enlistment news and now his b-day, I wanted to finish it for him ;_; So here you go, a story that is kind of sort of like Time Traveler’s Wife meets The Girl Who Leapt Through Time fueled by angst of not wanting him to leave :’D Enjoy!

Warnings: smut, age gap...in so many different ways...it's very complicated :’D, teacher/student, mention of unaliving, bigdick!seokjin because duh, oral sex, fingering, rough sex, praise kink

Word Count: 10.6k

---

Your first meeting with Seokjin wasn’t memorable. It was short and sweet, at a café on your college campus. He paid for your coffee. The coffee shop on campus was always busy, a long line at every hour and your card was embarrassingly not working in the card reader. You knew you were a broke college kid, but you definitely had enough for at least a coffee! You fumbled with your wallet offering the cashier your apologies when a man behind you stepped up to the counter and offered to pay, ordering a drink for himself as well. Embarrassed, you quickly tried to stop him, but he gave you a kind smile that stopped you in your tracks and he told you not to worry.

He was a professor, you were a student.

And he was already in love with you.

You find a quiet corner in the library to finish homework for your upcoming class, always the procrastinator. Looking up from your notes, you see the same stunning man again, now taking a seat across from you. The library was massive but somehow he went to this floor, this section, this corner, and decided to finish his class lecture notes at the same table as you.

You try not to be distracted every time he pushes his glasses up with a cute wrist flick, coughing and turning the page to one of his books. You stifle a laugh and continue going over your notes. But when you look up again, you notice he’s watching you. Suddenly self conscious from the attention, you smile back, jittery and timid. This man is perfectly put together and you look like you just rolled out of bed. Probably because you did, because for some reason, you had thought it was a good idea to schedule a morning class (it is always a bad idea). Hence, the coffee.

You meet him again that day.

You were hurrying to class, books in your hand, still sorting through notes when you stepped off the sidewalk. People around you were still moving, you thought you had time.

You weren’t paying attention.

Strong hands grip your shoulder and pull you back onto the sidewalk as a car horn signals, a bus zooming by you as you fall back into a warm body.

“Oh my god, I didn’t mean t-to – I wasn’t – I’m Sorry!”

“Whoa there, you’re okay, you’re okay.” Seokjin holds you steady until you stop shaking. Until you realize he’s the same man who paid for your coffee, who kept distracting you from your homework with his good looks, who doesn’t look familiar but feels familiar.

“Hey,” he smiles.

---

Seokjin’s first meeting with you happened when he was four years old. You were old – not your oldest – but older than you are now.

The first time you slipped through the cracks of time, you had really fallen.

You were on stage, amongst actors and directors and people infinitely more famous and important than you. But you were with them, having written the screenplay for the movie premiering that night. You were on a high stage, in the back, applauding everyone’s achievements. How it happened, no one knew, even with the hundreds of cameras, videos at every angle pointing at the stage at that moment...

You felt a tug, or perhaps a push; someone bumping into you or a fissure in the floor or you stumbling over your long dress or all three. It all happened so fast, it all culminating in one chaotic moment in time that left you falling.

Falling.

You fell head-over-heels, you slipped right over the stage barrier behind you.

You fell...

You fell into the sand, your silver sequined dress sparkling under the sunlight. Did you just die?

You can’t remember hitting the ground, your arm caught the edge and you held onto the stage for only seconds, it happened so quickly no one could get to you before the ledge slipped between your fingers. You were unprepared, unable to hold your body weight, and then your stomach lurched up and you felt the world slow down.

Life didn’t flash before your eyes like people said it would, not at all. All you could think about was, no, not yet, no! You didn’t want to die, not when your life was just starting, when your career was just becoming something! You wanted to live, you wanted to find love, you wanted-

“Help!”

Do people need help in heaven?

Oh no…

But you’re pretty sure you aren’t in hell either. What is this place?

A...beach?! You take one deep breath, standing up when you hear the call for help again.

You run towards the yelling, your heels digging into the sand and slowing you down with each step. There’s a young child crying, “My little brother!”

You see a child even younger struggling in the water, and then you don’t see him at all.

So without any other thought or question, you just act, running towards the ocean. You pull your body through the waves, moving quickly, diving underwater over and over again until you find him. You pull the drowning little boy from under the water, holding him close and patting his back.

He’s crying, that’s good, that means he can breathe, that he’s okay for now. If you hadn’t been there he surely would have drowned.

You swim towards the shore, cradling him close. Pulling your body out of the waves, your dress heavy with sea water, you put him down next to his brother, pushing the wet hair out of his eyes. “You’re okay now, you’re okay.” you whisper, trying to calm him down. He looks up at you awe-like.

‘What a sweet little boy with big innocent eyes,’ you think. “Where are your parents?” You ask his brother.

“B-Back at the house,” he cries.

You smiled at the cute pair, sighing in relief, and then before you could do anything else, you felt a pull...

Starting right under your belly button, a pull so strong it felt like a punch to your stomach, knocking the wind out of you, and your body started falling backwards.

You fell backwards into the crowd below, right into Seokjin’s arms.

He was invited by one of the actors at the premiere, his long time friend. With his looks he could fit right in with the celebrities, but he didn’t like big crowds and chose to stay in the back. Right in the exact spot where you needed him. When everyone looked on in horror, when others scattered, he looked up and saw you and knew what he had to do.

You try to catch your breath, gasping. Suddenly thrown back into the chaos of the premiere, flashing lights only amplifying your dizziness and confusion. You look down at the arms around you, and up into your savior’s face. “S-Seokjin?!”

Your dress was soaked, your hair was wet, your body was still shaking as he held you close. You both laid on the red carpet and the sight was too incredible for photographers not to turn and aim their cameras right at the pair of you.

“Y/n,” he smiles softly. Then, stands up quickly, carrying you in his arms as staff rush to conceal the spectacle, and you felt swept off your feet for a second time that night.

---

When Seokjin first saw you, he thought you were an angel. Your shiny sequined dress was sparkling in the sunlight, blinding him. Your soft voice telling him he would be okay sounded ethereal to his water clogged ears, the sight of you on the beach was something he never forgot even at his young age.

His parents later found him alone on the beach. His brother ran to them and told them what happened, but they never found you. They believed their children made up the story, a consequence of their overactive imaginations, but couldn’t deny the signs of Seokjin’s condition, immediately taking him to the hospital and finding out there was some truth to their tall tale.

The second time Seokjin met you he was six. He was older and you were older. Much older, a small gray streak apparent in the front of your hair. He almost didn’t recognize you, but your voice was the same, soft and kind, and your eyes were the same, caring and beautiful.

Six year old Seokjin still thought you were an angel deep down, someone sent to come save him, even if his older brother stopped believing and told him to quiet any time Seokjin brought it up.

And his feelings only solidified because the second time he met you you had grabbed his tiny hand and pulled him back onto the sidewalk. He watched as his ball was flattened by a car. It could have been him, he stood stunned. You were slower, your limbs weaker, but you saved him.

You felt it was your time to leave again. “Y/n, my name is y/n.”

“Don’t leave me,” he cried and clung to your dress.

You smooth down his hair, tutting. You sigh, heart hurting because you knew he was going to be upset with you later. “We’ll find each other again, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

The next time Seokjin crossed paths with you, you were the same age as when he first met you, same shiny dress, a jacket now over your shoulders, looking around confused and lost.

He called out your name, waving you over enthusiastically.

You hesitantly went over to the over-zealous boy. “I’m – um – w-what’s going on?!”

“You’re here to save me again,” he smirks proudly.

“I-I am?”

“Yeah, I think so. Every time I meet you, you save me.” Young Seokjin was definitely convinced you were his guardian angel.

“I-I think I am going crazy. Am I going crazy?” You fall to the ground at the boy’s feet, exhausted, dizzy, definitely delirious.

He yanks on your arm, wanting you to move, whining for you to get up. Why does he look so familiar? If you hadn’t just been in his arms you would have never made the connection… This boy could be Seokjin’s son, they look so identical, too identical. “S-Seokjin?”

“You do know me!”

“This can’t be happening. No no no no.” You look at the young boy, mind reeling. This has to be a dream. You must have fainted. The last thing you remember, Seokjin was with you, and-

You put your head in your hands, willing yourself to wake up.

You feel small hands pull at your shoulder. “Get uuup! Let’s go!”

“W-What?”

“My mom will be worried if I don’t go home. I’m not supposed to stay out late,” he whines.

You let the boy pull you along, hunched over and confused. Everything looked different, older, different clothes, different cars. You try not to hyperventilate.

He stops in front of his house, creaking open the door and looking around for his mom. “Go to the back, I’ll meet you there!” he says, pushing you to the side.

This is a bad idea. But you have nobody else and you’re ninety percent certain you’re dreaming. So you hide in the bushes in Seokjin’s back yard, dumbfounded, waiting to wake up.

“Here, I brought you some food. D-Do angels eat food?” He pulls a meat bun and a half-eaten kimbap from under his shirt.

“Eh?”

You looked really lost, maybe you hit your head coming back to him this time, Seokjin wonders. Little hands cover your forehead, checking your temperature and you flinch.

“I-I’m sorry, I just don’t understand what’s happening to me...” You begin to cry.

Seokjin winces, “Wait here!” and a few moments later he comes back with his older brother, “See, told you.”

“Whoa.”

“Now do you believe me?” Seokjin says accusingly, crossing his arms.

“Do you, um, remember us?” Seokjin’s brother asks, looking at you with a mixture of awe and worry. You look at him bewilderedly, tears still falling steadily from your eyes. “Do you remember when you saved my brother?”

You look between the pair, staring up at their big innocent eyes. Wait…wait. What?!

“You saved my life,” Seokjin says proudly, but then he recoils, noticing your bewilderment. “D-Don’t you remember? Y/n?”

“Y-You know my name,” you whisper.

“You told me, the last time you saved me,” Seokjin states.

You pull on Seokjin’s jacket, covering yourself. “You’re talking about the beach, right?” you mutter. Of course, this was all a dream, it was all merging together now, you think.

Seokjin smiles wide, nodding, ecstatic you do remember him.

“Should we tell mom?” Seokjin’s brother asks.

“No!” “No!” you and Seokjin say at the same time. “I will leave,” you say. “I’ll go…somewhere…” You mutter, hoping you wake up soon.

“No, you can’t! You’re-” Seokjin pauses. “You’re supposed to be my guardian angel.”

You swallow hard, deliberating on what to do, the young boy looks like he is going to cry at any moment. Well, since this is a dream, then you guess you should be acting the part. “Oh, o-okay.”

“D-Do angels sleep?”

You laugh, sighing. That’s what you’re doing right now, you want to tell him.

Seokjin shakes you awake. “I have to go to school. You’re coming aren’t you?”

You groan, sleeping outside in your dreams seemed to hurt even more than you would have imagined. Even with the blanket and pillow Seokjin gave you, you barely slept, replaying the last twenty-four hours over and over in your head.

“C’mon! You’re supposed to be my guardian angel, how are you supposed to guard me here?” He says, dejected.

You sigh. “O-Okay.”

You hug your shoulders, pulling Seokjin’s jacket closer to you. The hem of your dress is tied up, your feet are hurting in your heels. Young Seokjin tells you everything about his life so far. His friends found a cat and were taking turns to feed it. He had a tuna can in his tiny hand. He told you about his friends and his older brother, his mom and father. He talked about his teacher, who was so boring he couldn’t concentrate in class. He got in trouble for napping, he explained. You listened to the troubles of a child, barely concentrating, your own thoughts too jumbled in your mind. Seokjin talked and talked until a small orange stray cat leaped into your path.

You watched as he opened and set the can down on the sidewalk. The cat pounced on the food, hungrily eating the entirety of the tuna can. You smile as Seokjin pets his fluffy coat, cooing. You pulled off your heels, rubbing your feet. “You’re a good kid.”

Young Seokjin laughs, a sense of pride washing over him. He can’t wait to show you off to his friends. He hears something fall to the ground, your shoe, and when he looks up again, you’re gone.

---

The next time Seokjin met you, you appeared in his room. He couldn’t help but laugh. You were in a silk robe, looking lost and confused again. Falling into his tiny bed, he looks over his shoulder.

“Hey angel.” Seokjin looked exactly how you remembered him, only his features were less rugged from old age, instead young and soft.

“Seokjin?” You look into his red eyes, puffy from crying.

There was an unopened bottle of alcohol on his night stand, next to a bottle of…white pills?

“W-What’s going on?”

“Well, I guess, you’ve come to tell me not to kill myself,” he says with a weak smile.

Your eyes begin to sting as tears start pooling in the corners, looking at the offending contents on his nightstand again to make sure indeed nothing had yet been opened. Your voice shakes as you ask him, “W-Why?”

“I can’t do this anymore. I’ve tried, I tried so hard,” he whimpers, pulling his pillow closer and curling into himself. “I keep disappointing everyone. My mom...” he stifles a sob.

When were you? You look around frantically, studying his tiny dorm room. College, Seokjin is in college now. You fall to your knees at his bedside, your heart aching for him.

You hold his hand in yours, “You don’t disappoint her, you never have. You can’t do this. I won’t let you-”

Seokjin sits up, yanking his hand away. “Where have you been?” Seokjin’s voice breaks. “You never came back! Even when I needed you. I was all alone…”

When Seokjin was a kid he would wait for you. Walk slowly to and from school. Every day, he would hope his angel would appear. And then when you didn’t, he still held hope. He waited for you, every other day, and then once a week, until he stopped waiting all together, but even still, he thought about his angel every day.

As a teenager he thought he must have made you up, an imaginary friend for a lonely child…

But he had your shoe.

The older he got, the angrier he became. Crayon drawings of you in angel wings turned into resentful memories. By then you were just a faint memory, a woeful thought, and a fantasy when he was really lonely.

Seokjin went through life a little less hopeful then. He went to tutoring and classes and sports and singing lessons, all to please his parents, who wanted nothing but the best for the child they almost lost. His superstitious mother believed he was destined for great things.

But all those great things never happened. He had the looks, but the girls he grew up with didn’t really like him for who he was, they didn’t laugh at his jokes or like doing the mundane things he liked to do. They would parade him in front of their friends to show off and he felt used, misunderstood, broken hearted more times than he could count.

He had the intellect, but he lacked the motivation, he would become too distracted with games or get lost in his imagination, and assignments would pile up and then he would feel overwhelmed, crippled by all his duties.

He had the build to become a top athlete, but he would too often hurt himself, his aching joints and broken bones stopped him from ever reaching any professional status. No matter what he did, he felt like a failure. And in this low moments, he thought, maybe then he would find some guidance, some help. But it never came, you never came to him.

Seokjin had what it took to become great, everyone told him so, but in his mind he just wasn’t. Their expectations were all becoming too much to live up to. He felt overshadowed by even his own brother. He felt his confidence dwindle, his hope growing smaller and smaller, it was like an endless loop he couldn’t free himself from. He couldn’t save himself.

He needed you.

He was in his last year of university and he hated his classes, he didn’t know if he was going to graduate. He didn’t know what he was going to do with his life. So he thought, might as well end it.

“You’re going to leave again, like you always do. So leave! Leave me alone, just let me die,” he cries, pushing you away.

“Oh, Seokjin,” you wrap your arms around him, refusing to let him go. Hugging him close, you cry in each other’s arms.

He still smells exactly the same, moves the same, has the same nervous ticks, after all these years. Your sweet husband Seokjin.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there when you needed me, I’m so sorry,” you whisper. “But you’re not going to die today. You’re going to live a wonderful life, you’re going to be happy, you won’t be alone. I won’t let you be alone anymore. Trust me, believe me.”

“How do you know that?” Seokjin asks desperately. He holds your head in his hands, studying your features under the low light in his dorm. “Y-You…look different.”

You laugh softly, blinking away your remaining tears. “I hope not that different.”

He holds your cheeks, thumb caressing your skin. “You’re not wearing that dress…” He looks over the thin material of your robe, the low cut of it, showing off your cleavage. You feel so real and human in his hold, so warm, so familiar.

Growing up, in his child-like wonder and imagination, Seokjin remembered you almost goddess-like. Something untouchable, reverent, but now that you’re here with him again as a young adult, you felt so small and vulnerable next to him, raw and real. He found you beautiful in your vulnerability.

“I’ve never seen you like this before. If you’re not an angel then what are you?” You stay quiet against him. “Why do you keep finding me? ”

“I don’t know if it’s the right time to explain this to you.”

Seokjin chuckles, “I was going to kill myself tonight. I think now is the best time to explain things.” You wince hearing his confession. “Please, I…I’ve waited so long to see you again.”

You feel splintered by his words. You wish you had control of this, you wish you could have gone to see him earlier and told him not to wait. Seokjin was waiting for the wrong version of you.

Waiting only drew it out, the inevitability, it was torturous to wait. Moments with Seokjin were going to always happen and would always have been. The way time worked around you, it wasn’t time that was changing, forward and backward for you moved in the same direction. That was never going to change, only you and Seokjin changed.

“I can’t control what is happening to me,” you sigh, leaning your forehead on his. “I don’t know why this is happening…to us. I’m sorry, when we meet again, I won’t remember you, because I haven’t met you yet.”

“But you-”

You shake your head no. “You’ve already met me, but I haven’t met you. Seokjin, how old are you right now?”

Seokjin continues to caress your face, mesmerized. Seokjin can’t bring himself to let go of you, not when you’re here after all these years. After a decade of convincing himself you weren’t real, only to be so tangible now, so close he can smell you, with the same beautiful eyes he almost had forgotten.

You look at him so full of care as always, except now, as he stared into your eyes, face to face, your gaze held something that reached inside of him, that burned into his soul. The adoring way you looked at him made his weak dejected self feel strong again.

When your eyes looked across his features, down his body, he felt something surge inside of him, feelings he had always held close to his heart. You were an idolization to him growing up, but here you were, a mere woman staring at him like he was your world instead.

And suddenly Seokjin thought he might have the answer he was looking for, looking down at your hands resting in your lap, a gold band around on your ring finger, and a gem that sent him back to his childhood, looking through his mother’s things. He thought back to the grayness in your hair and back to your lost younger looking self. But the answer in his head sounded so unbelievable he had to hear you say it.

“I’m turning twenty-three.”

“Twenty-three,” you repeat, nodding, working the math out in your head, “Right now I would be…eighteen. But I’m thirty-three. And when I go back to where I came from, back to you, you’ll be thirty-eight.”

“And…the next time I see you again, you’ll be?” he asks, putting the pieces of your lives together.

You smile, “Twenty-two. I meet you when I’m twenty-two. You saved my life,” you smile wider, “and bought me coffee.”

“I save you?” he asks, eyes widening.

“And bought me coffee. Don’t forget,” you giggle. “Seokjin, I’m sorry it’s not going to get easier. I’m going to be much more difficult to convince,” you sigh. “But trust me, you still have so much more to live for.”

“Y/n, are w-we together…in the future?”

One look at you and Seokjin knew the answer even in your silence.

So he wasted no more time.

Seokjin kissed you, immediately, fervently, with love and passion not even yet experienced by him, but he felt it already inside him anyways, as if his love could travel across time even when you couldn’t.

You broke his kiss, “It’s not time yet to-” you whisper, trying to give this version of him space, he wasn’t yours to kiss yet.

“But we are together, in the future, aren’t we? You’re my wife,” he glances down at the gold band on your finger, reaching in for another kiss.

“We’re not married right now,” you push against his chest when he closes the small distance between you again.

“But you’re still my wife,” he grunts, lips against the side of your jaw.

“Not yet, Seokjin,” you close your eyes, thinking of your husband as Seokjin’s eager hands caress your body.

“I love you.”

“We haven’t even met yet! Not really. We haven’t dated-”

“I love you, I know I love you.”

You exhale defeatedly. “I love you too, but not this version of you, you’re still a baby-”

“But I-I’m me!” Seokjin laughs incredulously. “And I'm a man,” he says, offended.

You sigh, not knowing how to explain to him the intricacies of your relationship. “How would you feel knowing your wife was kissing a different version of you?”

“I would be totally okay with it,” Seokjin says stubbornly, head buried in your neck.

“Seokjin I’m older than you-”

“Is that supposed to matter to me?” He holds you tightly, afraid you’ll disappear from his life and he’d have to wait four more years before he could hold you like this again. No, you weren’t going to leave him until he proved to you how much he loved you, how he always loved you.

He kisses you again, pulling you into his bed. He refuses to listen to your excuses, he loves you and you love him and that’s enough for him. He traces the contours of your face down to your jaw, admiring every inch of you, enjoying your rapidly increasing breathes and the affect he has on you.

He moves his hand over your heart, on top of your breast. “Have you-” you put your hand over his. “-had sex before?” you ask.

“Yes,” Seokjin says indignantly, ears going red.

You giggle, “Good, don’t stop once I leave. You have four years before we find each other again, promise you won’t wait for me anymore? Enjoy your life, we’ll have our time, so don’t worry anymore, Seokjin.”

Seokjin swallows, not wanting to agree with you. “Alright. If tonight…you’ll be with me.” You hold his cheek. Stubborn man, ‘like always,’ you think, smiling. You answer him with a kiss.

Seokjin could feel your breasts, only covered by the sheer fabric of your robe, pressed up against him. He shuddered in your embrace, lips moving down your neck, across your chest, pressing his face into your cleavage.

What are you supposed to do when a younger version of your husband was timidly fondling your body, starved for love and affection? Up until now, you had always been the more submissive one in your relationship. Your husband has always been doting in his affection, but this level of tenderness, sweet infatuation with you was so unfamiliar, yet so your Seokjin.

You run your hands in his hair, holding him to your chest as he pulls your robe down lower.

“You didn’t tell me about this day,” you gasp, chest heaving as his mouth covers your breast, tongue rolling over your nipple and sucking.

‘Good,’ Seokjin thinks about his older self, vowing to keep his silence on the matter until the day he dies. If this is the result, he wants nothing to change it. He unties your robe delicately, like opening a present he’s waited his entire life for.

Seokjin pulls his shirt over his head hastily, wanting to feel your skin on his, needing you closer. You kiss him slowly, opening your mouth wider for him as he fumbles with his buckle.

His cock is painfully erect, knocking against his stomach when he finally frees himself, all the blood rushing down in his excitement, Seokjin can barely think straight with you under him, your legs spread open and naked.

You help guide him in, licking his chest, tongue rolling over his nipple, already knowing all the things he likes. Seokjin shudders, groaning in pleasure as he sinks into your heat, lost in bliss. He thrusts into your sex quick and rough. This version of Seokjin is impatient, needy...uncoordinated…

You don’t mind.

You throw your head back, encouraging him on, moaning his name. Seokjin thrusts in deep, he certainly had the stamina of a twenty-two year old, and the clumsiness. You pull him down by the neck, licking into his mouth until his pace slows, unable to concentrate on anything else. He kneads your breast, rutting into you.

You break away for much needed air, fixing the loose strands of Seokjin’s hair and tucking them behind his ear. Kissing his cheek, you whisper into his ear, “My turn.” You cant your hips up, ordering him to switch positions.

“Oh f-fuck,” Seokjin moans at the way you pull yourself up slowly and drop down hard and fast, rotating your hips. This was nothing like the sex he had with young inexperienced college girls. “Oh god.”

His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, as he thrusts up into your inviting heat. You grab his hands, holding them above his head instead, slowing your rhythm as he hisses, thigh muscles tightening as he concentrates on the pleasure he’s receiving.

He looks devastatingly handsome, his hair longer than you remember, shaggy and sticking to his forehead, leaner body writhing under you as his head tilts back, showing off his strong jaw and long neck. You moan, knowing he’s close, you’ve seen all these same jerks and spasms during many and many nights together. You tighten around his thick length, fingers touching his plump lips and pressing down into his open mouth.

“Fuck, fuck-ungh-I’m g-gonna-”

You pull yourself up one last time before gripping his length. Moving yourself down his body, you cover his cock with your mouth, licking up his shaft.

Seokjin pants, wound up so tightly, unable to hold it in any longer. His fingers tangle themselves into your hair, pushing you all the way down the length of his cock and then pulling you off, holding you still.

He burns the image in his brain, your kiss-bitten lips, eyes darkened with lust, mouth open for him, spurts of his cum dripping down your cheeks, fuck, he’s glad he’s still alive…

“I love you. Every time. Every where,” you whisper, looking at Seokjin sleeping against you, his handsome features softened in his slumber. Seokjin snores, waking up with a drowsy hum.

“Seokjin, what’s your major?” you yawn into his chest.

“Business and Finance,” he murmurs, half-asleep, holding you lightly in his embrace.

You snort softly, moving the hair out of his eyes. “Get a degree in teaching and become a professor’s aid here. It will help pay for the extra classes you’ll need.”

“Teaching?”

You nod. “You’ll love teaching, trust me,” you smile.

“My mother won’t like that,” Seokjin frowns.

“That’s not true, also, you’re not going to be a professor forever,” you grin.

“What am I going to do?” Seokjin asks curiously. You shake your head, “You’ll figure it out, don’t worry. Please, don’t worry yourself this much again,” you say more seriously, glancing over at the things on his nightstand one last time. “Promise me?”

His fingers tighten around yours reassuringly and he brings your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. “I won’t. The hardest part was not knowing…now the hard part is over,” Seokjin smiles rolling over to his side and pulling you in closer.

You were afraid for Seokjin the hardest part was just beginning.

When Seokjin woke up the next morning you were gone.

And you woke up in his arms again. His lips automatically find yours, waking up with a drowsy hum, your husband Seokjin kisses you deeply.

“You didn’t tell me-”

“It was a secret I was going to take the grave,” he murmurs, half-asleep, holding you lightly in his embrace.

You nibble on his neck, pressing yourself closer, needy for him; the version of him that knows all your turn ons and how to drive you wild with pleasure, that can skillfully bring you to ecstasy over and over, who you love more than anyone in the world. Every where. Every time. You call out his name in a whiny moan.

Oh, Seokjin’s glad he’s still alive.

---

What…What happened?

You feel like a freight train ran over and flattened you. Warm hands trail across your jawline, forcing your eyes open.

“S-Seokjin?” you wince, sitting up. Where were you? You and Seokjin were tucked away in the theater’s breakroom, hidden away from cameras and curious premiere-goers. “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited. The second lead, um, Kim Taehyung, invited me, it was supposed to be a surprise…” he laughs awkwardly. “Your dress…” he smiles softly, wiping the sand off.

You grab his wrist, stopping him from touching you any further, already hot in the face from where he brushed the sand off your lap. “M-My head-”

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay-”

“What h-happened?” you ask in disbelief. You were just on a beach, weren’t you?

“You need to calm down-”

“I was – I fell and I-I don’t know – there was a b-beach?!” You feel like the world is spinning, about to pass out again. You fall against Seokjin, failing to stand up.

You look around. This isn’t real. Everything feels weird and off. You were just on a beach! You feel the salt itch your skin still, your hair is still damp. This isn’t possible. This isn’t real.

“So you didn’t even know…”

You shiver, hugging your body, realizing you had his jacket wrapped around your shoulders. You wince, lifting your head up from his chest. “I need to go…I need to-” you spot an open door leading to a bathroom and you push yourself up.

“Wait!”

You push him away, stumbling into the bathroom and shutting the door. But before you can lock it-

Seokjin chases after you. He opens the door and you’re already gone.

---

This is the third time this weird professor has rushed to your side once you reached the barista’s counter and paid for your drink. You finally snap at him when he takes a seat across from you again. He was stalking you! It was impossible this was a coincidence, instead of sitting at your usual spot on the third floor, you took the elevator to the fifth, finding the furthest open spot you could find, tucked away behind bookshelves.

“Did you want something?!” you yell, being shushed by others.

“Huh? No?”

You glare at him, hot in the face. “You’re following me.”

He adjusts his glasses nervously. “No? I’m not-”

“You are! You are,” you say quieter. “I can pay for my own coffee, you don’t have to keep doing that. Thank you, but just s-stop!”

“I’m sorry!” he whispers. “I...I wanted to ask you the first time I f– met you, but I…chickened out. I think you’re really beautiful and I really wanted to get to know you more and…will you go on a date with me?”

“Eh?”

“A date,” he says a matter-of-factly.

“I…” Is he really asking you out on a date? “I don’t date professors.”

Even if he’s devastatingly handsome, quite possibly the most breathtaking man you’ve ever encountered, the feelings you felt when your eyes locked felt stronger than mere attraction. Emotions you weren’t used to strummed across the strings of your heart. Whenever you looked at Seokjin, the tug you felt pulling at the pit of your stomach felt too strong to ignore and it frightened you. It...weirded you out!

“Then I’ll quit,” he mutters something softly to himself you don’t quite catch, something about not planning on teaching forever.

“Are you on drugs?”

“N-No!” he pauses, recollecting himself. “Please, y/n, let me take you out, just one date.”

You stand up, letting the chair scrape loudly within the quiet study space as it’s pushed back. “H-How do you know my name?!”

“Your name? I, um, I, uh, I saw it on your coffee cup! The first day we…um, met.”

He’s obviously lying. You close your binder, gathering your homework. “Stay away from me,” you hiss, making sure to whisper as to not bother those around you.

“Wait!” he grabs you by the arm, pulling you back to him. “Please.”

You swallow, frozen by his intense pleading gaze. “Let me go or I’ll scream,” you whisper.

His hand cups your cheek. You look down at his wrist, the warmth of his fingers spreading over your skin, Why does he touch you like that? Why does it bring up these feelings you’ve never felt before? What is happening?!

You pull away, walking quickly, no, it definitely looked like running as Seokjin watched you flee. He stops himself from running after you, frowning. His approach was definitely not working. He runs a hand through his hair, cracking his neck, wondering how the hell your relationship could possibly progress to anything close to a marriage when you looked like you wanted to jump out of your skin anytime Seokjin came close to you.

‘It’s okay,’ he tells himself. Seokjin has you in his life now, your “meetings” would be on his terms now.

He was a successful drama professor, many of his students went on to work in movies and television. Instead of letting his worries consume him, he found himself learning how to live in the moment, because after all, he wasn’t the one who had the ability to change the past...and the future, even if he wasn’t so sure there was a flexibility to that either, he looked forward to it. So despite your retreating figure, he smiled.

“Can you please stop following me?!” You hold your books close to your chest after bumping into Seokjin in front of his next class.

“I’m not,” Seokjin defensively, readjusting his briefcase, red in the face, “We just keep running into each other-”

“You expect me to believe that when I’ve been on this campus for two years and now suddenly y-you’re everywhere I go. L-Like you are just…appearing out of thin air!”

Seokjin looks down, chuckling. “Maybe the universe is trying to tell us something?”

You pause. “The universe doesn’t care about us that much,” you mutter, turning away.

Seokjin pulls you back. Seokjin blinks, watching you as you keep your eyes low, unable to meet his own out of shyness. “Instead of a date, let's just…go out as friends?”

“Friends?”

Seokjin nods. “Yeah, if we keep running into each other like this, at least it won’t be so awkward anymore.”

You slowly nod, agreeing.

---

Seokjin waits until he hears a thump in the bathroom, something falling onto the floor. He pushes the door open wider, finding your shaking figure on the floor.

“H-How is this possible?” It was supposed to be a dream. You look down at your bare foot. If it wasn’t a dream, then that means…

You look up at Seokjin, now older, but with the same innocent eyes...

“I don’t know, but I’m happy I was able to save you again. You saved me so many times I just stopped questioning it,” Seokjin smiles, bending down and reaching for you.

You look down to his arm, his hand on your cheek. You don’t know how to react, overwhelmed. “Y-You knew about this the whole time?”

“I tried to tell you sooner, I didn’t know how…” he looks down at your sequined dress, unable to keep his emotions from resurfacing.

“Seokjin…I’m scared,” you feel tears well up in your eyes too, horrified at what could happen to you now.

“You don’t have to be scared,” he reassures you, hugging you. “I don’t think it happens very often. You find me six more times before now.”

“You? I go to you again?” you ask anxiously. Seokjin nods, “Why?”

Seokjin laughs softly. “You save my life.”

“Like the beach?” you murmur.

Seokjin nods, not wanting to tell you the whole truth. “Yeah, like the beach.” He fixes the collar of his coat around you, “My guardian angel.” He sends you a timid half grin, so cute you couldn’t help but laugh, drying your tears on his coat sleeve.

The premiere actually went really well after the initial chaos. You and Seokjin found seats in the back of the movie theater. Pretending something life changing didn’t just happen to you, you sat through the movie, trying to enjoy the product of your hard work. You skipped the after party, in favor of burgers and a milkshake, not wanting to deal with any more craziness. Big parties like that were never your thing anyways.

“I need a shower,” you scratch your head, taking a big bite of your burger.

You and Seokjin found a seat on top a pier, listening to the waves. He eats his fries. “My hotel is only a couple blocks from here, we can go there if you want.”

“Thank you,” you fix his hair, blown out of place by the wind.

You sigh. Seokjin was always sweet to you, helped you more times than you could count in college. And now that you knew the reason why, you feel uneasy. “You know, you don’t have to do this anymore, feel like you owe me something because I saved your life.”

“Hey, I saved you a couple times too, didn’t I?” he teases.

“Yeah,” you laugh. You still felt guilty. Seokjin was your best friend. You can’t believe you became best friends with the child you saved.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, thinking of the start to your odd friendship. “You were trying to tell me when we first met, right? I was horrible to you back then, I’m sorry,” you pout.

“Yeah,” Seokjin lies. “Why were you so mean to me back then?” he bumps your shoulder with his.

You bite your lip, looking at the dark rolling waves. Throughout the movie you couldn’t pay attention, thinking back on everything you experienced, replaying the moments you and Seokjin had gone through. Once you warmed up to him, it was easier to push those initial feelings away. Seokjin was your good friend, a mentor, if it weren’t for him, you’re not too sure you would have made it to where you were now, an accomplished writer.

Seokjin was handsome, kind, sweet, funny. He was the perfect man. You didn’t deserve him. Deep down you knew that, and you didn’t want to lose him. Seokjin asked you out a couple times after your first meeting, and you always refused him, because you knew you loved him too much to risk a relationship. Growing up your relationships never worked out, you were always left heartbroken. If you were to date him, it would be too devastating to lose him.

“Well, you did follow me around like a creepy stalker,” you joke, trying to avoid the truth.

Seokjin scoffs, sipping on his milkshake.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “Being around you scared me-”

“What?!” Seokjin yells.

“No! I didn’t mean it like that! I think maybe, I felt something, like maybe deep down I knew something was different about you. It scared me,” you sigh. “The feelings…” you look up at his wide eyes, “N-Not feelings! I mean…emotions? I don’t know what I mean,” you laugh awkwardly, drinking your milkshake.

Seokjin stays silent and looks away, finishing his burger.

“Y/n, will you go on a date with me?”

“If this is about me saving your life-”

Seokjin scoffs, smirking, “It’s about me loving you since the first time I saw you.”

“Seokjin…” He can’t mean that, he can’t.

What do you even say to something like that? By saving his life did you end up ruining it? He was just an impressionable boy, but even after years of knowing him in his adulthood, Seokjin still honestly believes that?

“Just one date,” Seokjin swallows, determined “and I’ll never ask you again.”

“Just one date,” you whisper, barely able to use your voice, unease washing over you.

Seokjin smiles wide, undoing his tie, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders.

Finally.

---

Seokjin texts you he’s on his way.

Oh god, oh god oh god oh god.

You fix your hair for the hundredth time tonight.

This was a horrible, horrible idea. Everything about this was weird. You shouldn’t be doing this. You check your clock. Is there time to back out?

You were afraid there was no way to stop this without Seokjin hating you, he’s been so patient up until this point, never becoming angry with you when you refused his advances. But now you feel you’ve reached the tipping point. Could he forgive you if you changed your mind?

But the thought of him giving up on you and pursuing someone else, made your insides twist. You know he deserves someone better, someone who wasn’t anxious all the time, who wasn’t too scared to show affection, someone without a short temper, someone who looked as beautiful as him, and most importantly, someone who did not have a condition where she fell through time!

Seokjin texts you he’s on his way.

No answer.

Seokjin calls you.

No answer.

He knocks on your door.

No answer.

Seokjin knocks harder.

“Hey love.”

Seokjin turns around, bumping right into you. You crash your lips into his, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Seokjin goes mute. You’re wearing a tight dress, hair made up, diamond jewelry around your neck, a present Seokjin gave you on your anniversary.

You look beautiful. But Seokjin can tell you’re not the same woman. You’re more mature, more relaxed around him.

“C’mon, we have a date tonight, right?” You grab him by the jacket, pulling him into another kiss. It was wild and heated, Seokjin could taste alcohol on your lips.

“Y-Y/n?! You’re from the future!”

“You bend down, pulling up the door mat, holding up a spare key. “I don’t think I’ll mind if I take a visit.”

“Where’s my y/n?” You pull him into your dark apartment. “W-What if you come home.”

“I won’t,” you smile, putting the key on top of your counter, and touch the calendar pinned to your wall, at the date. “Tonight I’m already-” you lift the calendar up to December, “-around four years later, here. And I’m here.”

“You’re…around the same age as me right now.”

You smile, biting your lip, nodding, your eyes sparkling.

You jump on your kitchen counter, winking at him. You’re a little drunk and you’re missing your anniversary dinner. You hope your Seokjin isn’t mad at you, but you’re sure he will understand. You’ll make it up to him when you get back. If you were brought here, it meant Seokjin needed you.

“This was supposed to be our first date,” Seokjin says breathlessly.

“That’s right,” you hold your hand out. “I was a nervous wreck,” you laugh, remembering. Maybe it was you who really had needed the help. “Ahh I remember now.”

“So, I guess that means I get a second date,” he holds your hand, letting you pull him in.

“Oh you get many dates,” you whisper into his mouth, lips rubbing across his own.

Seokjin has been visited by an older version of you a handful of times now. He was starting to feel troubled by the fact that the only time you ever seemed to want him was when you time traveled back to him. This time happened to be the closest he’s gotten to his version of you. That means, in less than four years, he’ll finally get to have you like this all the time. He tries not to feel impatient, but, god, he can’t wait.

He pushes his tongue inside your inviting mouth, yanking your body closer to the edge of the counter.

This was your Seokjin, the one you first fell in love with, so dominating and strong with a desperation in his actions you haven’t experienced in awhile. You fist his shirt, pulling him closer to you, moaning into each other’s mouths.

This is not your home.

Oh no. The last thing you remember, you were trying to think of a way to escape your date with Seokjin and then you tripped, or at least you think you tripped, and the world felt like it turned upside down. And now you’re…where are you?

“There you are, I was wondering where you went off to!”

You turn around, face to face with the man in question. “Seokjin?”

“Yes,” he laughs, “Are you okay? Wait.”

You stand awkwardly in the middle of his living room. “Y/n? Did you time travel?” You nod quickly. He looks around for his y/n. In his old age he was always nervous when you would visit him, he knew you couldn’t exactly save him from a stroke or heart attack, but he always assumed the worst if you fell in unexpectedly. “Am I…in danger?”

“No! I mean, I don’t think so? Fuck…I fucked up. I think…I think this might have been me, this time,” you groan.

“What do you mean?”

“I– Are we still friends?” you look closer at Seokjin, he looks older, not by much, but there was definitely a difference between your Seokjin and him.

Seokjin laughs. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“So I didn’t ruin our friendship,” you sigh in relief.

“When did you come from,” Seokjin asks, curious.

“Oh, um,” you weren’t so sure you wanted to remind him. You look around. This place is much nicer than his current home, you notice. You’re happy for him.

Seokjin watches as you look around his home. “Like the place?”

“It’s beautiful, the kitchen, wow,” you laugh in awe. Seokjin smiles at your reaction. You said the same thing when he brought you to this home, asking if you wanted it.

“You look beautiful. What’s the occasion?” You wore a low-cut pastel dress, the short skirt flowed over your hips, showing off your legs. You hadn’t put your heels on yet, standing barefoot on his rug.

“A date,” you mumble.

Seokjin pours himself two drinks. Walking over to you, he hands you a glass. “Who’s the lucky gentlemen?” he teases.

You drink the alcohol to calm your nerves. “You’re from the future, right? Shouldn’t you know?”

“Technically, you’re from the past. And I want to hear you say it, y/n,” he takes another long drink.

“You are mad at me for leaving,” you bite your lip.

“You still haven’t figured it out,” Seokjin sighs. “Look at me, do you think I would be still mad at you for something that happened so long ago? Do you think I could ever be mad at you like that? Do you think I could ever stop loving you?” Seokjin holds your cheek against his palm, the same gesture he always does, unable to help himself from touching you.

“You can’t just love me because I saved your life once when you were a kid, Seokjin. That’s not…okay.”

“Have you ever tried to see me as who I am now to you?”

“Y-Yes,” you swallow, getting lost in his eyes. “But I’m afraid that’s not how you see me…”

“You know what I love about you?” he asks, “We cook together, all the time, we make dinner together. You even let me drag you to cooking classes,” he smiles. “On the weekends when I fish, you’ll come with me and write or paint on the boat, you always keep me company. I even love you when you force me to watch scary movies, you always say you’ll protect me at night.”

“We do all that together?”

“I love that you’re so passionate about things, I love that you are just as competitive as me, I love that you make our home warm, I love your laugh, I love your smile, I love your eyes…”

“Our home?” You put your hand over his, not wanting him to pull away just yet. But Seokjin had no intention of leaving you.

“You think I love you because you saved me when I was a child. But I don’t think that’s what happened at all. I think you saved me because I loved you so much.”

You feel your heart clench at his words, opening up as if he had the key, turning it until he unlocked something inside of you, hidden so deep out of fear.

“I’m sorry I ran away from our first date,” you cry.

Seokjin laughs, kissing your forehead. “What are you talking about? You’re right here with me now.” He hugs you close, “Our first date, huh? Ahh now I remember,” he smiles. “You wore this for me?” Seokjin looks down your body hungrily. His thumb reaches out to touch the corner of your lips.

His younger self will forgive him for stealing your first kiss together.

Seokjin kissed you softly, testing the waters, until you pressed your lips into his demandingly, and he cradled the back of your head, licking over your mouth until you opened for him. His tongue rolls over yours, mouth devouring you until you were weak in the knees.

His hands ran down your body, going under your dress and pressing you to him in the most achingly pleasurable way you let out a soft moan for more.

Seokjin loved your body now, but there was something evocative in the younger version of you that reminded Seokjin of the start of your relationship, when you couldn’t keep your hands off one another and when you and him had the energy to go all night and morning long for days.

“Oh Seokjin.”

Seokjin already knows he’s not going to forgive himself for what he’s going to do next to you. But it’s only fair, his younger self is having too much fun with his version of you. That black dress was meant for him, Seokjin thinks, a little angry with his younger self too, barely remembering the distant memory.

Seokjin lays you on the couch, delicately pulling off your lace panties teasingly, leaving open mouthed kisses across your calf and thigh. He runs his tongue up your leg, achingly slow.

You whine for him, crying out his name, unable to hold back your yearning for him any longer.

You were so responsive to his touch, goosebumps blooming all over your skin at his ministrations. When his tongue dove into your core, you shuddered, legs over his shoulders and heels digging into his back, your own back arching into him as he licked over your mound, pressing his tongue deep inside you.

He replaces his tongue with two fingers, setting a punishing pace with his digits stroking inside your sex and his tongue over your clit, a dizzying force that sent pleasure waves throughout your body.

“Oh my god,” was all you could manage to say, broken out in between heaving moans.

He removes his tongue only to growl out, “Be a good girl and cum on my fingers for me, okay angel?”

You groan, legs locking around his arm as he curls his fingers into your sweet spot until you spasm, orgasming quicker than you’ve ever had before, even by your own fingers. “That’s it, baby.”

You lie, in shock, still trembling in pleasure.

Seokjin waited so long to have you again, and even though it wasn’t the version of you he wanted, this version acted exactly how he wished you would. You couldn’t keep your hands off his body, you couldn’t stop your moans for him. You were hungry for him, full of desire for him, on your knees for him and god, Seokjin felt like he was losing his mind with lust.

He dragged you off his cock, needing to fuck you first. He bent you over your counter, too horny to even think about stopping and moving somewhere else. He needed you now, before you disappeared, he needed to fuck you full, to make you cry out his name, he needed that validation, he needed you wrapped around his cock, warm and tight and his. You were his. He admired the jiggle of your ass, your back arching for him, your mouth open, your cheek pressed against the marble of your countertop as he dragged you back and forth on his cock. All of you, all his.

He interlaces his hands in yours, holding you down as his pace quickens. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you moan out for him, tightening around his cock as he pounds into you from behind.

“I want you to come first,” he pants.

“Ungh…fingers,” you grunt, closing your eyes, so close.

Seokjin has learned a thing or two since fucking you last. He lifts one of your legs up onto the countertop, fucking you even deeper, rolling his hips into yours. His fingers find your clit, his other hand in your hair, tightening his grip as he fucks you.

You tremble, limbs locking as Seokjin brings you over the edge, fucking you through it and dragging out your pleasure until it becomes too much.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re so tight, I’m going to — ungh.”

Seokjin pulls out, resting his cock in your folds. His shaft twitches against your sensitive nub, making you tremble. Seokjin covers your sex with his cum, marking you as his.

And then he pulls you into his arms, nowhere near finished with you.

Seokjin peels your dress off you, fingers pulling at your nipples until you gasp. Pocketing your underwear, he undoes his pants, pulling out his hard length, thick and heavy against your thigh.

You inhale sharply at the sight of him. God, has he always been this sexy? Probably. You’re an idiot for waiting so long. You instinctively open your legs wider for him. “Want it, baby?” Seokjin smirks. He’s bold, already confident in his relationship with you, and he likes teasing you, especially this version of you, when you still have your timidness, your cute modesty. “Tell me how bad you want me.”

You whimper as his fingers tease your entrance. “Tell me,” he grunts as his fingers dip inside your hole. His wet fingers travel up your body, circling your nipple and resting on your throat as he uses the tip of his cock to tease you instead.

“Please, I want you.”

Seokjin licks his lips, watching you squirm underneath him. “How bad?”

“Fuck, please, Seokjin, I want you so bad.”

“Yeah?” He rests himself at your entrance. He could do this all night, torture you slowly. He knows your body, he’s had you so many times before. He can keep you like this for as long as he likes, because he knew you haven’t felt him yet, and he knew it was driving you crazy to wait. This was only a little sweet payback for all the waiting he used to do for you.

“Beg me, angel.”

“Please, Seokjin, please,” you whimper. “Fuck me, please...please...” you pant.

Seokjin rolls his hips into yours, filling you with one long languid stroke that takes your breath away. He brings your legs up, folding you so he can fuck you deep, fill you completely.

It feels so good you feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You hold onto his shoulders, digging your nails into his back. Fuck, it feel so good. Sex with Seokjin is the best sex of your life. He is thick and long and is hitting spots you didn’t even know existed inside of you.

“I’m g-going to cum again,” you moan out.

“Yeah? Gonna come on my cock this time? Fuck, you feel so tight. You’re taking me so well, baby.”

“So…close-”

“Come, baby,” Seokjin runs his fingers over your sex, circling your oversensitive clit. You shake and tremble around him, limbs locking. “One more, fu-uck, give me one more.” Seokjin was going to make sure you knew what you could look forward to when you went back, that you weren’t going to ever forget you belonged with him.

He rolls his hips slow and steady, fucking every thought out of your head until you could only think of the way his cock dragged in and out of you, his fingers relentlessly slipping against your clit.

“Seokjin!”

“Good girl, that’s a good girl.”

Seokjin woke up half naked on the rug of your living room all alone.

And then he heard a thud in your bedroom and knew you were back in his life again. Never that far.

You look up as your bedroom door creaks open. You pull your sheet off your bed, dragging it onto the floor to cover yourself.

“Hey,” you stutter.

“Hey,” Seokjin whispers, covering his chest.

“Seokjin, did you want to, um, cook breakfast together?”

---

“Hey old man.”

“Hey angel.” Seokjin had gray hair, wrinkles in the creases of his eyes when he smiled at you.

“Is everything okay?”

“Now that you’re here, I’m sure it will be fine.”

Taking your hand in his, you both notice the gold rings on your fingers.

“How’d you get in this boat all by yourself?”

“The easy part is getting in, the hard part is getting out,” Seokjin laughs.

“And where am I?”

“I suppose, somewhere saving my life.”

You jump into the boat, helping him to his feet. “Promise me you’ll fix this dock with some decent steps and railings,” you grunt.

“I promise,” he smiles.

You smile back, tying the boat up to the dock. “I’m happy I came here, to see you. We lasted this long, huh? Not that I had any doubts,” you tease. Seokjin chuckles, waiting for you as you finish securing the last loops. He sits on his cooler, filled with today’s catch.

You bend down and kiss him on the cheek, helping him up to his feet again. “Let’s go inside and wait for me, then, yeah?” you say, linking your arms together.

---

“Y/n?” Seokjin called out to you. Somehow, even with your gray hair, your hunched withered body, he could tell it was you.

“Oh, Seokjin, oh my god,” you wheeze out, tears in your eyes. The last time you saw Seokjin was three years ago, the day he died. You touch his cheek, no longer wrinkled by time, tears escaping your cloudy eyes.

“Angel, you found me again.”

“I missed you. God, I missed you so much.”

“I’m here now,” Seokjin whispers, taken aback by your tears and how broken you sounded, his heart clenching and thinking of the worst. He hugs you, calming you down.

You remembered this day.

“I know why I’m here,” you say happily. “Today is the day I go into labor.”

“But your due date is not for another three months,” your husband says, confused.

“That’s right,” you remember. “There’s a complication. We’ll be fine,” you reassure him as he starts to panic, “Just take me to the hospital now, okay love.”

Seokjin nods, hugging you again. It’s overwhelming, having him in your arms again after all these years. Even if the man you loved is gone, you feel a sense of happiness wash over you knowing this version of him and you still have so many years left to live, so much love to give each other. So many more beautiful memories to make, all that you know will be the best ones yet.

“Oh dear, I love you,” you cry.

“I love you too. Every time. Every where,” Seokjin whispers.

And that was the last time you fell for Seokjin.

---

Happy birthday, Seokjin! Did you like it? I cried, but I'm a crybaby, did you cry? I need to know if I'm still decent at angst lol.

Masterlist

#seokjin x reader #jin x reader #seokjin smut #jin smut #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #seokjin angst #seokjin fluff #jin angst #bts college au #bts fantasy au #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #happy birthday seokjin

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pparadiselost · 4 months

Text

the death of a wallflower.

university professor hinata shoyo x university student fem reader your crush on the hot new professor gets out of hand. warning(s): nsfw, unhealthy relationship dynamic (teacher x student), named best friend oc, reader has an unnamed ex, pov change for one of the scenes, non-virgin reader, use of american university setting minors do not interact.

XX UNIVERSITY

XX SEMESTER

WEEK 2

“no, like, our new professor is seriously so hot. like, forget-your-shitty-ex kinda hot. ugh, just wait till you’re in class! you have to believe me!”

minnie’s words echo like the foreshadowing of some porno as you gather yourself outside of the classroom. leave it to your roommate and self-proclaimed best friend to describe the newest professor at your university as “hot,” when most of the faculty are pushing 70 and have the self-awareness of a brick. you honestly have no reason to be this nervous before lecture, but while it might be the start of a boring week two of the semester for your scholarly peers, it’s your first day.

it’s also just your luck to end up with the world’s most horrendous stomach bug right before the semester started. after a few heated email exchanges and a lot of heavy-lifting from minnie, your advisor and dean begrudgingly excused you from classes until you were feeling better.

and now here you are. you took the liberty of showing up to class just a few minutes early to try and talk to your professor to see what exactly you missed, and maybe find a seat. you assumed at this point everyone had their unofficial “official” seats, and you were praying that you could score one somewhere close to minnie.

whatever.

you shake your head like a dog to clear whatever doubts tumbling around in your skull. you’ve dealt with your share of mean professors before, and between forcing yourself to go to class and puking on the floor and dealing with whatever screaming gripe they’ll give you now, you had sagely decided the latter was the better option.

you brace yourself, and you tiptoe into the classroom.

the door squeaks open, and you shuffle inside, almost scared to see what’s on the other side of the door. the classroom is empty, unsurprisingly, and the fairly sized classroom zooms in on a central point: at the professor’s desk. a bag is slumped next to it, and some papers are placed into somewhat neat piles on the desk. a projector illuminates the blackboard behind with its default display.

“ah, welcome in! you’re early!”

you nearly jump out of your own skin at the energetic voice that greets you. standing a few paces from the desk is a young man, dressed crisply in a white button down and formal pants. your eyes crawl up his physique, trailing over the undone button at his throat and the sleeves tastefully rolled up to reveal his toned arms. they’re all classically handsome features, but nothing to write home about—nothing a quick swipe on tinder won’t satiate.

you step a bit closer. “uh- good morning… i’m a student in your class. i think i emailed you about this a while back, but i was the one that got really sick last week and couldn’t come in.”

you braced yourself for the tirade that you were so used to, the mountain of homework and make up lectures that were bound to be awaiting you. god, you weren’t some kind of study freak, but no one ever likes starting the semester on the wrong foot, especially when that wrong foot means making up a week’s worth of classes all across the board.

except the tirade never really comes. the man laughs, “so that’s who you are! gotcha, gotcha. well, i can say for sure that it’s much better to see you in person rather than the little yearbook picture i have on my class roster. um… minerva, was it? she said she’d fill you in on the notes that you’ve missed.”

you perk up. “yeah, minnie’s my roommate. and she’s helped me catch up the best she can.”

“awesome! it’s good to hear students helping each other. i mean, that’s what having classmates and roommates is all about anyway,” he continues. you can’t help but notice the charm in his voice, the light rhythm that makes it feel like he’s dancing with his words rather than rambling. “reminds me of my own roommate. tall guy. super awkward. only cared about volleyball. he had this god awful middle part that chased away any girl that remotely found him attractive.”

you fight back a small giggle. he was funny. “i’m glad to say that minnie isn’t anything like that. if anything, i’d say she’s the opposite…”

“oh?” your professor quickly quips. “bit of a boy magnet, is she? i’m just messing with you. but yeah, like i said, it’s lovely to finally meet you. if you have any troubles, don’t ever feel scared to reach out to me. i’d rather that i know what’s going on than to be left guessing, and i promise you whatever ‘stupid’ thing you’re worrying about, i’ve definitely done dumber in my own undergrad years. sound cool?”

your eyes trail upwards again, from the outline of his small waist and broad chest. your mind wanders momentarily, wondering what his workout routine must be. you gloss over his smooth face, marveling at the smooth skin and the sunshine-like smile that tickles his mouth. he really couldn’t be that much older than you, despite being a professor, and if you saw him on the streets, outside of this academic setting, you would have never guessed him to hold such a position of authority with a face this young. his eyes are just like yours, lively but with a tinge of timidness that invites you to probe a bit deeper, a bit closer. and his hair: it’s the most beautiful, sensual shade of sunset orange.

it isn’t like your breath is being taken away in one fell swoop. rather, it feels like he’s coaxing it from you, stealing it away subtly so that you’re left to lean in, fiending for it like a fish caught out of water.

your gaze meets his, and you’re shoved back down to the correct plane of reality. fuck—you were not about to be caught staring like a creep at your professor on day one on all days…!

you nod shakily. “it’s nice to meet you too, professor-”

“-hinata,” he finishes, beaming even wider at you. “although, i told the class they can call me shoyo if they want to. i’m still pretty new to the whole teaching thing, so being called ‘professor’ feels a bit weird.”

“ah,” your voice drops in volume a tad, “i’m personally more comfortable with ‘professor’, so i’ll stick to that, i think. if it’s okay.”

he holds his hand up in mock surrender. “totally chill. whatever rocks your boat. if you don’t have any more questions, then make yourself comfortable. i think minnie tends to sit… over there, if you wanna get settled down. i know you already got the notes from her, but i promise you didn’t miss much in the first week, so don’t sweat anything.”

“thank you!” you breathe, getting ready to turn on your heel and march to the area professor hinata pointed out. something inside your rib cage trembles as if shocked with electricity, an anticipation for a breath of fresh air that only the beginning of a new semester could bring. you don’t know what to call it exactly. it isn’t quite excitement nor is it giddiness, but a liminal middle ground in between all of it where dread, the need for poise, and opportunity intermingle.

“hey.”

you glance over your shoulder at the sound of your professor’s voice. your professor grins at you, and in that split second, at you alone. his eyes twinkle fondly.

your breath catches in the back of your throat.

“let’s have a good semester together, you and i.”

the brown of his irises feel as if they’re going to swallow you whole.

you tear your eyes away.

…

“sooooooooo,” minnie practically slams your dorm room’s door shut and corners you in the small excuse of a room that you call home while at school. her eyes are brimming with the mischievous glimmer that you know all too well, and she stares you down with the most expectant look on her face. “isn’t the new professor hot? exactly like i told you?”

you dump your bag on the ground, crawling into your bed and immediately finding your place under the sheets. it’s been a long first day for you, and despite feverishly praying to whatever divinity was up above that the rest of your professors would be as kind as professor hinata was, it looks like your calls went wholly unanswered.

you massage the slight ache in your shoulders. “i mean, yeah, he’s an attractive man, and i guess he’s pretty nice. but nothing super out of the ordinary.”

minnie sticks her tongue out, and she pretends to boo you. she huffs her chest out and plants her hands squarely on her hips, clearly not impressed by your review of the new eye candy she’s scoped out. “you’re no fun! i bet you’re only saying this because you’re still hung up about that pathetic scum of a human being you call an ex. c’mon! the best way to get over a shitty boy is to simply find another one!”

something inside your chest twinges with a dull ache, and you flop back onto your bed. “as much as i would love to share your optimism, i don’t think hopping from one boy to another will make me feel any less shitty about this breakup.”

“well, you gotta give me something to work with! and besides,” she sidles up to the side of your bed, and she leans in close to your face, as if she’s whispering a secret to you. “professor hinata isn’t a boy. he’s a man.”

you hold back the urge to throw a pillow at your roommate. you’re grateful that you have minnie to get you out of your own mind sometimes, but at the same time, she better be grateful that she has you to ground her to reality.

“he’s our professor, minnie!” you pretend to scold her, but you fail at holding back an exasperated smile. “i’m all for you homie hopping through whatever ligma sigma dickma frat you’ve got your eyes on, but faculty are strictly off limits!”

“hey, be nice to me!” she laughs back, reaching over to poke at your cheeks. “doesn’t professor hinata look super young though? like he can’t be that far off from our age. that doesn’t make it that bad, does it?”

you shake your head. “i don’t care how old he is! pursuing your professor is a huge no-no!”

“ughhhhh! i’m trying to find the silver lining for you here! i’d much rather you drool over your hot professor than mope around in bed over your ex all day, okay? besides, it’s not every semester that we get to have a class together AND have a professor that doesn’t dress like fucking paddington,” she groans dramatically. she’s basically swooning at this point, acting as if the notion of a new, handsome romantic prospect for her to chase after and you being disinterested is the end of the world for her. you’re used to this song and dance by now, and you know she’s being theatrical just to get on your nerves.

it’s funny to you. minnie has a talent for making you laugh over the stupidest things. you barely stifle back a giggle. “leave paddington out of this! the poor guy has done nothing wrong.”

“you get my point!”

you settle back into your cozy spot on your bed, snuggling into your sheets. you don’t want to open up the can of worms that catching up on homework would be just yet, and as fantastical as minnie’s romantic endeavors could be, they make for a good distraction from all the responsibilities you don’t want to face yet. she glances at you lovingly, her fingers drumming against your rackety bed frame.

“but you do think he’s hot, yeah?” she starts. you snort.

“i said i found him to be an attractive man but nothing special, minnie.” you chew over your words, and your eyes flicker up to the white expanse of your ceiling. your mind conjures up images of your new professor, and the relief you had felt when he had treated you so warmly.

he was such a sunny young man, and true to minnie’s guess, probably not that much older than you were. most definitely fresh out of school and figuring things out for himself, your quick interaction with him before class felt more like talking to a classmate or a teacher’s assistant at best, rather than a well-educated professor trying to test his craft and wrangle throngs of antsy college students. you liked talking to him.

“i’d say he’s more charismatic than hot,” you offer up. minnie guffaws at your answer, and it’s her turn to roll her eyes.

“fine, fine, i get it! you’re not going to bite at whatever temptation i throw at you. that’s my roommate for you, always the toughest nut to crack,” she sighs and shakes her head at you as if you’re hopeless, but you know she means well. there’s nobody else in the world who would care for you like this, go this much out of her way to make sure you don’t feel alone.

it’s almost enough to dispel the thoughts of your new professor from your mind.

almost.

your heart softens around the edges when your mind pushes the image of him alone with you into your mind. just that one cadence, no longer than thirty seconds at most, when it was only the two of you in that empty classroom, with no other soul in the room to shield you from the incoming stranger wedging his way into your life—just you and him, caught in that suspended moment.

he’s still so beautiful in your memory.

“-anyways,” minnie’s loud voice jostles you from your thoughts. heat rushes to your face in embarrassment, as if you had been caught doing something bad red-handed. she doesn’t seem to notice, and you choke back your guilt on losing track of yourself over your new professor in favor of whatever minnie’s spouting next. she purses her lips in thought. “i’m feeling kinda peckish, so what do you say about getting takeout for dinner?”

“we have food in our fridge,” you curtly remind her.

she groans in utter defeat, flopping onto you over the side of your bed. “you’re such a goody two shoes! what in the world will ever get you to break?”

…

WEEK 4

what in the world, indeed.

you fidget listlessly inside professor hinata’s office. you’ve never seen him with glasses before, but a pair is perched slightly crooked on his nose as he clicks at the big monitors on his desk, probably pulling up whatever answer you scrawled out on the google form he had sent out a few days prior. you’ve always been a little antsy whenever meeting with a professor in general, but make it a mandatory one-on-one meeting with a certain professor that seems to make your heart act up and you’re vibrating so hard that you might as well cause an earthquake.

“so…,” he starts, skimming your response, “i really like what you wrote here. think you can tell me more about what you have planned for your final project?”

you lick your lips and swallow, and you’re suddenly aware of how dry your mouth is. “uh, yeah. i’m sure minnie’s already told you most of it-”

you stop dead in your tracks when professor hinata raises a hand, cutting you off. you pause, a prickle of dread swirling in your stomach.

he smiles apologetically. “sorry, i really don’t like interrupting students. but this is your final project, and i want to hear your ideas. not minnie’s. i know you wrote that you two want to do it as a pair, and that’s fine. but your ideas are just as valuable as yours are, and this time is reserved so i can pick at your brain, not hers.”

“r-right…,” you murmur. your heart flutters the slightest bit when you realize he’s paying special attention to you, but you shut any excitement down immediately. you were a goddamn adult and a college student. what kind of person would you be if you couldn’t hold it together around your professor, who 100% without a doubt saw you as a pupil? you mentally scold yourself for finding your instructor’s undivided attention appealing.

“like you said,” you start up, your voice still quiet, “i thought it’d be nice to do a joint research thing with minnie, and we wanted to focus on our campus’ experience with single versus shared dorm life. we figured something like that would be easy to find professional data for on a much larger scale, so we can compare and contrast with our own findings.”

he hums to himself. you keep your eyes fixed on a point on the wall behind him, not wanting your eyes to wander. it isn’t like professor hinata always comes to class impeccably dressed in a suit and tie or anything, but he also has a horrendously good sense of fashion that makes you instinctively shy away a bit. he’s dressed nicely today too: in a sweater with a white button down underneath that peeks over the collar of the sweater and what should be loose black pants that fit tightly around his thighs. you hate yourself for noticing these details.

“that sounds like a pretty solid plan to me. i like how far you’re thinking ahead. research like this usually takes a lot of time and energy, so it’s good to have a vision for what you plan to do at the end. do you have any thoughts as to how you’re going to collect data? i suppose reaching out to housing would help with pure numbers, but for tackling the more social and emotional parts, you’ll need to do that yourself.”

you’re keenly aware of when he glances towards you, his gaze burning into you like a magnifying glass held up to the sun. god, you shouldn’t be so on edge around him, and yet something about how casual he is with you and just how sweet he is with you makes you that much more stiff. you don’t dare meet his eyes.

maybe it’s that vulnerable intimate one-on-one that’s making you so much more aware of his presence, or maybe it’s the close confines of his office, but you know you’re going to waver if you make eye contact with him.

“minnie and i wanted to conduct physical surveys. we were planning on contacting the different r.a.s of each housing building and asking the school for the information to off campus housing managers. that way we can distribute questions as far as we can,” you recited stately. “we even considered maybe putting in a raffle reward for responses, which would incentivize people to actually respond instead of ignoring it.”

professor hinata whistles. “i’m impressed. you two have really thoroughly thought all of this through! you never fail to impress me with how much attention to detail you put with your schoolwork. i wish all of my students were as diligent as you were sometimes.”

you bite down on your tongue, and it takes all of your willpower to not let some kind of fucked up glee swell inside your chest. “thank you, professor. the idea was originally minnie’s idea, but i was the one that really did most of the work ironing out the kinks.”

he laughs heartily. “i can imagine. between the two of you, i can tell that you’re the more responsible one by a long shot. don’t get me wrong: minnie’s a wonderful student. but at the end of the day, it’s still you cleaning up her messes, isn’t it?”

“yeah,” you bashfully admit. you can’t even count the number of times you’ve been the one to pick her up from her drunken escapades or be the one to force her into bed after holding her hair while she pukes. as much emotional stability as she gives you, she does need a tad bit of mothering. “but she’s still a great friend. i couldn’t ask for a better roommate. we might have opposite personalities, but we balance each other out perfectly, i think.”

“that’s good to hear! it’s always nice to know my students are getting along. especially quieter ones like you.” he leans forward in his seat, almost as if he’s whispering a secret to you. “us professors aren’t allowed to have favorites, but it’s human nature to always root a little for the well-behaved underdogs.”

you swallow a bit more harshly. there’s a lump in your throat. you really, really need to do something about whatever you feel towards your professor, because you know deep down that it’s wrong to keep wanting his attention like this. he’s being friendly and watching out for you, because he knows you’re the plain mouse-like student amongst a sea of wild young adults carving their way in the world. he’s only helping you, only complimenting you because he’s genuine and wants to see you do well, and you’re hoarding that attention and craving it like a man starved.

“she’s done a lot to get me where i am right now,” you admit, wanting to deflect. “i broke up with my now ex-boyfriend over the summer, and she did so much to make sure i was doing okay. i know you probably don’t care that much about messy college student drama, but… she has my back until the end.”

he raises an eyebrow. “i don’t mind. trust me, professors love hearing about student drama as much as the students do. also if it helps me get to know you better, then it doesn’t hurt, does it? having more information, no matter how silly, is better than knowing nothing about you at all.”

“i mean, it really is silly.” you’re trying very hard not to look him in the face. your eyes flit everywhere but, looking at your hands, the neckline of his sweater, the peeling wallpaper, anything. “i really liked that guy, and he ran off and cheated on me. i caught him red handed and did the right thing by confronting him and immediately breaking things off, but it’s not like you can wake up and decide that you don’t like someone anymore, no matter how awful he was to me.”

“i’m sorry that happened to you. it’s never fun to feel betrayed by someone you trusted, especially romantically.” he taps his fingers together.

you wave him off, shrugging. “i’m a lot better about it now! it hurts every now and then, but i’m choosing to focus on myself. i did nothing wrong, and it’s better for me to have cut him off than to turn a blind eye. and minnie’s always inviting me out to all sorts of things to take my mind off of it too.”

“that’s good. i wish i could say relationships get easier once you become an adult, but… there’s no cheat key to things like love. you gotta roll up your sleeves and do the nitty gritty work.” he feigns rolling his sleeves up, and he shakes his head. a blur of orange flickers like candle light in the corner of your eye. “even full grown adults do terrible things to each other. but just like you said, it makes you appreciate the bonds that stay true to you even through your hardships.”

“clearly,” you breathe. your voice is airy, almost strained. god, he was just so easy to spill your heart to. why couldn’t your ex be like this? professor hinata is thoughtful, intelligent, and emotionally mature. you need to step away, need to keep your distance, but even your attempts to deflect yourself away from the growing attachment you have to your instructor only ends with him expertly spinning things into his favor.

he chuckles to himself and leans back into his seat. “my mom would always say that it’s better to be single and free than to be miserable and tied down. besides, you’re only in college! the big wide world is waiting for you! i promise you, there are far better guys out there that can treat you the way you deserve to be treated. one failed college relationship isn’t going to doom you for the rest of your life, okay? take this one from your prof.”

“i’m sure.”

you don’t doubt his words. the little resolve, the sliver of morality lingering inside your turmoiled brain, is crackling. it’s wrong to lean this forward towards your professor, to grasp and grip at the stray straws you can see, and yet, it feels so good. the heady silence that settles over the two of you is reminiscent of your first meeting with him, back to the moment when it was only you and him in the same way it is now.

but things are different today. he knows more about you. you’ve learned to trust him. he’s always respected you, but it’s clear that he treats you like an adult on equal footing with him rather than your other professors who act as if you were born yesterday. he genuinely cares for you.

you subconsciously steel your stomach, and you sneak your eyes upwards from the hemline of his sweater. your gaze trickles cautiously over his broad chest and his neck, over the detail of his lips and nose, apple-like cheeks, before eventually meeting his inquisitive one. you unintentionally let out a choked sigh, like the wind is being squeezed out from your lungs.

his eyes light up and smile at you, as if to say “finally.”

you can’t breathe.

you want to lean in; you want to close that impossible gap that tenses and pulses between the two of you. what kind of tension is this? something so forbidden, so magnetic, so undeniable yet unavailable for the taking… it feels like torture, to see your meek reflection staring back at you in the wide sclera and captivating brown irises of professor hinata’s eyes, and to be able to do nothing about it. this was the devastating nature of attraction, knowing that your personal insanity might amount to nothing the very instant you handed your fate over to another.

knock knock knock.

you nearly splutter over your own inhale before jerking away back into your seat. a loud knocking noise repeats itself around the small confines of his office, and you’re left stunned, your heart hammering like a death toll inside your tense ribcage. you drop your face down to the floor, not daring to tear your eyes away from anywhere other than the anchoring, humiliating safety of the ground.

“ah, looks like our time is up. it seems like the next student is here,” professor hinata explains, much to your simultaneous dismay and relief. this isn’t a line you can cross, and yet you crossed some kind of personal boundary you set up for yourself right there when you snuck a glimpse into your professor’s eyes.

“i-i’ll get going. thank you for the meeting,” you stammer, hurriedly grabbing your things and almost stumbling over your feet to get to the door. “i’ll keep working on my project- and uh- i’ll reach out to you if i have any questions…!”

you don’t know what kind of face he must be making, not when you don’t have the courage to look at him again. you sprint out of the door, away from the tense sparks that lay dying out into fumes between the two of you, surely a machination of your deprived brain. the hallway echoes with the sound of your footsteps as you half-run-half-speed-walk away from the office, wanting to go anywhere else as quickly as your clumsy feet would take you.

how could you be so stupid? not only do you end up blabbing about a bad breakup to him, revealing that you’re single, but you’re idiotic enough to think that his goodwill is something you can entertain into something further.

you hate to admit it.

you’re falling in love with your professor.

…

WEEK 7

“you should go out with me this weekend.”

“i’ll think about it.”

“pleaseeeeeeee? i basically have my outfit picked out, and i’m dying to get a matching one for you! it’s been so long since you let me dress you up, and i’m itching to do something fun with you for the weekend! please? pretty please? with sprinkles and oreos and whipped cream and cherries on top?”

you groan, tempted to slam your head into your desk. “minnie, i said i’ll think about it. i’ve already seen the five million instagram dms you’ve sent me begging to go to whatever frat party is being thrown.”

“it’s sig-chi,” she reminds you, as if that’s the important part. some of the students next to you shoot the two of you odd glances, and you flash a weak smile, inwardly apologizing for minnie’s obliviousness when it came to blurting your business. it wasn’t like the entire class heard, thank god, but the noise levels weren’t high enough where you could act a bit more stealthily. you wish it was, even if it was only to spare you from whatever social embarrassment your mostly well-meaning roommate was bound to put you through.

you turn your attention back to the work you’re trying to get done. you’re grateful professor hinata gives you time in class to work on your final projects. after that fateful instance in office hours with him where you came face-to-face with your feelings, you haven’t been able to really act normally around your instructor. fearing for your own sanity, you’ve done everything you possibly can to avoid interacting with him one-on-one. it’s not like something like that is particularly difficult to do, but your heart still skips a beat and lodges itself in the back of your throat when he catches you in the hallway, greeting you with a light “good to see you!” before squeezing past you.

your cheeks sting with heat when you think about him. you bite down only your tongue, willing for the dull pain to ground you. minnie hums absentmindedly next to you, completely unaware of the hell that she’s partially responsible for, and she taps away at her phone.

“hey, hey, look at this! isn’t this outfit sooooo cute? it would look perfect on you! and if i order it today, it should get here in time for the sig-chi function!” she sticks her phone screen in your face, and you instinctively recoil away.

your blood runs cold when you see the outfit she’s showing you. it’s a cute sparkly little number, except for the fact that it would cover barely anything if you were to put it on. one wrong move in it, and your whole chest and ass would be out for the world to see. and that’s not including the already exposed midriff it would entail. “it’s cute, but- i don’t know if i could wear something like that…”

“nonsense! i can see you perfectly in it! it’ll be awesome!” she quickly cuts you off. “a cute but still slutty outfit is key to every good party! i bet you’ll have all of the guys in there chasing after you in this. oh, the color will sooooo make your eyes pop, and i think i can really make your features shine with a bit of my make up too…”

you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. embarrassment prickles like red-hot thorns underneath your face, and you try to grab at minnie’s phone. “minnie! you know i don’t wear things like that!”

“exactly! it’s all the more reason why! i’m trying to help you make your debut on the university dating scene,” the girl responds as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “you’ll be thanking me once you have a drop dead gorgeous six foot something basketball player wrapped around your little finger. trust me, i’m the expert in these kinds of things.”

“that’s not the point!” you hiss. ugh, you should really know better than to talk reason into her during one of her frenzied rants. you have absolutely zero intention of actually going out to one of these sleazy frat parties, let alone wear a skimpy outfit in order to bait a boy! you need time and patience to heal your broken heart, not… her wild schemes. you would rather bite off your tongue than go through whatever public humiliation ritual is involved with flirting at a frat party.

“ladies,” a deep yet sunny voice cuts through your annoyed inner monologue like a hot knife through butter, “i hope we’re actually getting work done. you wouldn’t be goofing off in my class, would you?”

your blood turns into ice for the second time within minutes, and when you peel your eyes up from your desk, your fear comes true when you see professor hinata standing there. his hands are on his hips, and despite his teasingly scolding tone, he’s sporting a bright smile.

you curse yourself inwardly, and you’re mentally scrambling to make an excuse.

“professor! look at this! wouldn’t this look so good on (y/n)?” minnie’s a step ahead of you. you audibly splutter over your breath, and you shove your head into your hands. she giggles as she sticks her phone in your professor’s face, and you’ve never been more mortified in your life.

professor hinata’s eyes widen at the more-lingerie-than-actual-clothing that’s being bombarded into his eyes, and he coughs, waving his hand. “woah, i’m not sure if i’m the right person to be asking that, minnie! why don’t we save the party talk for after class?”

she pretends to be exasperated, and she jokingly rolls her eyes. “ugh, you two are hopeless! you have to help me out here, professor. i’m trying to get (y/n) to loosen up a bit and have some fun with me! isn’t it true that you feel loads better when you do a bit of dolling up?”

“well, yes, but it looks like (y/n) here isn’t too keen on that idea. take it easy on the party going, and let’s focus more on your final project. trust me when i say your deadlines will be creeping up on you fast,” he easily brushes minnie off. she smiles brightly and nods, and only then does she finally turn to her computer and start compiling her research.

you want lightning to strike you down and burn you to a crisp. you peel your head out of your hands, and your weary eyes meet your professor’s. he grins understandingly at you, and he reaches forward to squeeze your shoulder empathetically.

“...!”

you grit your teeth, your eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights as electricity courses through your body. the skin where his hand just was feels like it had been burned, thrown completely off guard by the sudden contact.

“are you doing okay?” he whispers. his voice is soft and quiet, coaxing you out of your panicked state. it’s a voice reserved solely for you, one that only you can hear, and your blood is being weighed down by figurative iron when your heart flutters. “take it easy now. don’t let her goad you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

your lips feel clumsy. “she means well. i’m fine. she talks big, but she won’t actually do anything without my express permission.”

he’s more of a danger to you than minnie will ever be. you wish you had the courage or brainlessness to blurt something like that, but the bitter revelation stays curled up into the flesh of your still tongue, burning and scalding you like the unspoken confession it is.

“that’s good to hear. take care of yourself though. if she keeps fretting over you, you’ll make me worry too, you hear?” his nose crinkles a little when he squeezes your shoulder again. did he always have freckles? or are you only noticing them now that he’s up close and you have nowhere else to focus except for his face? you hate it, hate this tension, hate the way you can’t control yourself despite knowing better.

you hang your head, forcibly tearing your eyes away from your handsome professor. you lie through your teeth. “i’ll be okay, professor.”

…

“ohhhhh, fuck…!”

shoyo double, triple, quadruple-checked to make sure that his office door was firmly locked around him. it would be the literal death of his academic career if someone were to catch him doing what he was about to do, and he wasn’t that keen on throwing aside his future just yet.

he had made a beeline for his office the moment class let out. it took every bone in his body, every last bit of willpower he has ever known in his entire life to keep his sunny facade up and to make sure no one would see his mask slip. he can’t afford it, and yet he’s still gambling too riskily. he’s cutting it too close to safety to relax fully, but he can’t stop.

his cock twitches and strains in his pants, begging for his attention. he leans his back against the firm wooden door, his breathing shallowing as lewd images flash behind his eyes. fuck—he really should know how to control himself better than this, actually listen to the angel in his brain telling him that he should really quit being so attracted to his students.

correction: student.

correction again: you.

his fingers unconsciously unbuckle his belt, and his pants drop down to his ankles. he grits his teeth, a strangled breath escaping his clenched teeth as he palms the prominent bulge in his boxers. it was one thing to ride out his delusions on his own, savoring the forbidden dregs of toeing the line between professionalism and a taboo romance.

you played the part so well too. like a frightened doe that would run away if he moved too quickly, you were good at keeping your walls up and fending off his quiet advances enough. the push and pull had him reeling: part of him wanting him to do better and to act properly as a new professor should, and another wondering how much cuter you’d be bent over his desk and your pretty cunt stuffed full of his cock.

“...shit-,” he hisses as his hands slip underneath his boxers. it only takes a few strokes for his cock to fully get hard, and the cool air of the office hits his sensitive skin like a flurry of ice. heat courses through his body, and he feels awful.

he shouldn’t be doing this. he shouldn’t be getting aroused by his student and jerking off in his office, but here he was. the last straw was seeing your roommate pitch that damn slutty outfit. you looked so innocent and so sweet, clearly not a party animal, but how often did your roommate swing you around? did you get down and wild if pushed far enough? shit, was your good girl thing just a ruse to get brownie points with him?

“fuck- fuuuuck…!” he starts stroking himself, palm swiping from base to tip, squeezing his cockhead a hair. dull pleasure swirls deep inside of his stomach, and he moves his hips into his palm, the friction downright addictive.

he imagines you in that outfit, your tits and ass basically out for the world to see. maybe you’d let your friend drag you out to her silly party. maybe you’d act shy there too, skirting around the sidelines of the dance room, sipping nervously on your drink. maybe the alcohol would make your head buzz a bit and you’d get a bit bolder. maybe you’d let some douchey frat bro feel you up, that dumb bastard not knowing how good he has it by getting your attention.

shoyo groans under his breath. god, you shouldn’t be wasting your energy and time on stupid college boys. all they would do is exploit you and leave you for dead, even though you were clearly the best thing to walk into their lives.

he thumbs over his weeping tip, moaning throatily as he presses into his slit. his chest rises and falls, the electric feeling making his knees go weak. touching himself never felt this good. nothing came close to that buzzing high of being deprived of you.

his mind doesn’t stop wandering. raunchy thoughts of you dancing floods his brain. he imagines you grinding up against him, your soft ass pressing up against his crotch. he’d buck his hips against yours, let the heat mount as his hands wander over your body, that skimpy outfit of you doing nothing to protect you from him. you’d glance back at him, feeling his strong chest up on your back, the muscles of his arms tensing when you pull him flush against you. your eyes would have that drunken haze to them, intoxicated off of whatever was in your cup and getting down and dirty with your professor.

it reminds him of his own idiotic undergraduate days, ones he thought he matured past when he became a proper working adult. clearly not, if the thought of dancing with you and feeling you up has him furiously fisting his hard cock.

he needs to be inside you. he doesn’t want to feel his hand on his cock anymore. he wants to ruin that pristine image you have. he wants to see you crying and moaning, going from his stellar unassuming pupil to some cock crazed slut, begging for him to fuck you harder, to fuck you deeper, completely at his mercy. he wants to see your clothes in tatters with nothing to shield you from his almost animalistic lust, for you to see him as a proper grown man who wants to pamper you as much as he wants to ruin you rather than some stuffy professor.

it’s downright problematic how much he needs you. it’s more than just wanting to fuck you. no, he’s a gentleman. he wants you to want him, even if it’s only to ease the guilt nagging at his heart. you’re too smart for your own good, and yet when you’re surrounded by all these bad apples nipping at your heels and waiting for you to stumble, it’s no wonder that you’ve become so holed in.

you simply need someone who’ll treat you right. who’ll make you shine. who’ll be a proper lover, someone that can actually step up to that mantle.

“hah- god fucking dammit…! fuck- fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck- shit…! fucking hell, god- fuck!” his grip on his cock tightens, and he thinks his body is going to break. the dopamine buzz in his mind is almost explosive, and he knows he can’t control himself for much longer. he's close, so close, egged onto the edge by fantasizing about the thought of his student in a revealing party outfit.

what kind of scum did that make him? if his mind was any clearer, he might know, but it isn’t. all that his sex-riddled brain can make out is how badly he wants your body. he craves the weird sick satisfaction of being the one to stretch out your sweet hole with his girthy length, to fill every little bit of your womb up with pumps of his hot cum, to pleasure you so thoroughly that he’ll ruin sex for the rest of your life—unless it’s with him, of course.

you flicker behind his eyes again. your body trembles against his as he pretends he’s thrusting into you rather than his pre-cum drenched hand. your cunt quivers and tightens around him, and your face is stained with your tears. mascara runs down your cheeks, and your lipstick is smeared messily all over your mouth. your legs shake around his hips as he fucks into you, tip easily squeezing and abusing that sweet spot deep inside your body.

“what a pretty girl.” he’d praise you, take his sweet time making sure you get all the loving you deserve. “how could someone as pretty as you stay out of my sight for so long?”

the image of you in his mind bucks your hips back against him, and the pleasure that explodes around his cock has him weak in the knees. he’s so close, so close to giving you his seed, to marking you as his. he’s humping into you desperately, wanting you to feel that impeccable stretch, pierced and plowed by him, driven to madness by his infatuation.

“i’m here! i’m yours!” you pant out. you’re starstruck. smitten. everything he’s wanted.

“-kgh…!”

warmth overtakes his entire body, and strong ropes of cum escape from him. he grits his teeth, clenching his jaw and willing himself to keep his moans to himself. he’s dead meat if he gets caught masturbating to the thought of his student in his office. cum spills out all over his office floor and coats his hands, spilling and spilling like the pent up frustration bottled away in his heart. he furiously strokes himself through his orgasm, and sparks fly in his brain, pleasure coursing through his veins like one giant shockwave.

he throws his head back, gasping for air as his cock sputters, the last drops of virile cum leaking out and covering his fingers. his cock slowly softens in his hand, and he sucks in deep inhales, the cool air soothing the heat enveloping his entire body.

shoyo’s mind feels fuzzy and distant, like he’s been shoved out of this plane of existence temporarily. his limbs are weak, and his abs tense and coil in on itself as he forces himself to steady his breathing. his vision is blurred slightly around the edges, but the world emerges back into focus with each passing inhale and exhale.

he hasn’t even fully come down from his high, but he knows that the lack of guilt he’s feeling is wrong. he should feel bad, he should feel dirty, he should feel like he’s done something criminal. what professor jerks off to his student and doesn’t feel any sort of post-nut clarity? he swallows heavily, but the knot in his throat that should be there is nowhere to be found.

he doesn’t want to give his growing interest in you any more attention than it needs. the last thing he should be doing is fanning the flames, and just now, he fed the monster when he should be depriving it, starving it.

his gaze crests downwards, towards the pristine streaks of pearly cum all over his hand and the floor. he knows he’s beyond saving when he bitterly wishes all of it could have gone inside of you and your sweet pussy instead of being wasted on nothing.

“...let’s clean up,” he whispers to no one in particular. he hates the apathy he feels, reaching almost robotically for the kleenex he kept on his desk, not a single prick of guilt or wrongdoing stirring in his body as he moves clumsily through the aftershocks of his orgasm to rid the proof that he had even touched himself to the thought of you to begin with. you don’t have to know that he ever jerked off to you or the fact that his desire for you grows and festers like a rotten wound inside of his heart. because that is what it is in the eyes of everything that is moral and good: rotten.

but what you don’t know can’t kill you.

…

WEEK 10

you had dreaded the next mandatory meeting with professor hinata for a while now. you had done such a good job of keeping a low profile for a while now, only ever addressing your instructor when it was absolutely necessary and whatever interactions you needed so that he wouldn’t pick up on the fact that you were purposefully avoiding him.

you had also done a good job at keeping minnie’s eagerness at bay. your final project for professor hinata’s class was a very handy excuse to avoid going out to parties with her, and crunching the data also did an exceptional job at keeping you busy instead of moping about in your room alone.

you’d think at this point in the semester you’d have quit being so hung up over your ex and your general failure of a love life, but seeing that your romantic prospect was a crush on your professor that you were actively trying to get over for your own sake, clearly things weren’t looking great for you.

but this was something you couldn’t escape. you sit on your hands to keep yourself from more or less bolting out of professor hinata’s office. his eyes are glued to the monitors on his desk in good professor-like fashion, scanning over the work you’ve handed in for him to check.

you’ve done this song and dance before. you’ve been stuck in his office before, too scared to make eye contact with your professor out of fear as to your heart betraying you. you have to keep a firm grip on yourself, and you look at your professor but make it a point not to look at his face.

“man, i know i say this every time i look over your progress, but you really do outdo yourself. you deserve a pat on the back,” he remarks, smiling proudly as he leans back in his seat. “you’re definitely in a good place for where we are in the semester, and as long as you keep at it, i’d say you’ll easily get an a for your final grade.”

“thank you,” you quietly state. he’s dressed simply today, in a black turtleneck and jeans. it makes his bright orange hair stand out that much more, and you try with all your might not to stare too hard at the obvious outlines of his toned pecs and waist straining against the fabric of the sweater.

he looks good today too. you want to eat your own fist and curl up into a ball to cry. it was like for every step forward your determination took to keep yourself in check, professor hinata threw a screwball at you to make you take two steps back.

you wish things would go as smoothly as it did the last time you were here, vulnerable to his scrutiny and left with your own flimsy defenses. the same thick tension hangs in the air again, and you pray that you won’t act out of place.

“so,” his voice cuts through your thoughts, like it always does. he knows how to catch you right off guard, wedging himself right into the split-second crack in your judgment. “all i’ve got to say is that i’m excited to see your actual final all put together. your findings are going to be really interesting, and i’m also looking forward to comparing what you find against whatever conclusions minnie draws from the same data. i don’t mean to get so personal again, but the two of you are so different that i wonder if your findings will be that stark too.”

you inhale, fixing your eyes on a spot behind him as if it was ritual to ground yourself that way. “i won’t spoil too much of her stuff, but she also has some pretty cool ideas. she’s told me some things that i wouldn’t have thought to consider in her part of the project, so… just something to get you more hyped!”

he chuckles, the low cadence of his voice making your heart flutter a beat. “i’ll take your word for it. i hope she’s treating you well. i know that you know your bond with her better than i ever will, but i really hope her energetic personality isn’t too overbearing for you. you come to me if you have any issues, okay?”

“i appreciate it. but i’m fine, really. she’s a lot, i know, but she means it out of love,” you reply methodically. this isn’t the first time someone has scrutinized your relationship with her, often misconstruing her enthusiasm and your more quiet personality to her mistreating you. sure, you two don’t see eye-to-eye about everything, but you wouldn’t hold her so close if she wasn’t someone who would see things through thick and thin for you.

he nods. “alright, i trust you. but it never hurts to be vigilant. take it from someone with a bit more life experience than you do: people can still hurt you and claim that it’s from a place of love. this isn’t to say that minnie’s a bad person, but you and i have something special. i want you to stay safe.”

something lodges in the back of your throat. your mind swirls dangerously, and you can’t think. special? you and him have something special? you almost laugh unconsciously; it’s like despite all the work you did to keep your heart under lock and key, he’s determined to burrow his way in there.

you hate how easily you crumble. all it took him was one well timed sentence with that stupidly charming voice of his, and it made weeks on weeks of self-imposed deprivation disappear like dust.

“don’t worry, i’ve been doing a lot of work to take care of myself. do you remember that ex i told you about? after him, i did a lot of work reevaluating the people closest to me and whether or not i trusted them blindly,” you hesitate, pursing your lips and sucking your cheeks in a little. you comb over your next thoughts carefully. talking with professor hinata is a mental game of its own, and you feel like you’re playing against an impossible opponent. “there’s… definitely a more eloquent way for me to have phrased all of that, but… you get the point.”

“i do. god, you poor thing. how could anyone hurt someone like you like he did? i know i’m biased as your professor, but even then… you’re so bright and kind. he really fumbled. that’s my two cents.” his shoulders shake a bit as he laughs, the sound coming from somewhere deep inside of his chest. your stomach feels queasy, and every part of your body wants to swoon. your attraction to him is trouble. it’s fatal.

you dig your nails into the flesh of your palms. the stinging pain does little to bring you back to your good conscience, but it’s something to focus on other than the hazy lapses in judgment that dance inside your mind. “it’s all growing pains. this is what being an adult means, doesn’t it? you said so yourself last time we talked. there’s bound to be someone better out there in the world.”

you don’t need to look at him to know that he’s looking at you. the office feels constricting and so much smaller than you remember it to be, as if the walls are actively moving in closer and keeping you trapped in there with your deathly charismatic professor.

“yes.” his voice drops a bit in volume, and it sounds almost intimate. “yes, i did say that.”

something possesses you. it creeps in quietly, like a drop of ink dispersed into a glass of clear water. no, you shouldn’t say that; whatever was plaguing you had taken root months ago. whatever you were trying to save was just a remnant of the ruin in your head. you swallow thickly, almost like you were trying to press your logic, your goodness, your moral conscience back down into nothingness.

you lift your face. his sweet eyes are there to greet you, and they light up when you meet his gaze. his eyes are warm and welcoming, and you’re instantly entranced. he’s beautiful, insanely beautiful, and the brown color has you floored. you want to reach out and cup his face, and you want to just stare into his eyes forever. it’s like he’s a siren that’s called out to you specifically, tempting you to inch closer and to let him take you away, entranced forever. your lips start quivering. you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t reflect and let out one last pathetic struggle to cling to what you know to be right.

maybe things would have been different then. maybe if you tried harder, you’d have picked the morally correct thing. maybe you’d walk out of professor hinata’s office unscathed, your relationship tense but still at the boundary it should be at, and you’d graduate and put your crush behind you as nothing more than a silly infatuation.

but you don’t. some repressed part of your mind slips. the words tumble from your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“i wish it could be you.”

you instantly throw your hands over your mouth, your eyes widening in shock. regret flashes through your entire being, and your face burns with shame. professor hinata gasps softly, but he doesn’t say anything.

“sorry-,” you fumble, your stomach twisting into horrid knots. panic shoots through your brain, and you’re screaming internally at yourself. you want to say something, anything, apologize profusely, but the gears in your head won’t turn. your entire mental processes are overrun with nothing but sheer panic, and you feel like your brain has turned into a piece of useless metal. “i-i’m sorry…! i didn’t mean it like that- i wasn’t thinking… i just- i don’t know what came over me.”

“hey, hey, calm down.” he reaches forward, leaning over his desk, and a firm hand plants itself on your knee. you almost jerk away from him, like his touch would hurt you, and your professor can see the wild, feral fear in your eyes.

it’s one thing to deal with your illicit feelings on your own, but to accidentally blurt them and make them known to him? to professor hinata? the very object of your forbidden affections?

“it’s okay. it’s okay. i’m being serious, it’s alright. there’s no need to freak out.” his words cut into the blinding flurry of thoughts in your head. “talk to me, here. you good?”

you nod frantically, forcing a deep breath in through your nose. “i’m fine. i’m okay, i promise. i… please ignore what i just said.”

he retracts his hand. he swallows, and you can see his adam’s apple bob underneath the neckline of his turtleneck sweater. you should know better than to look into his eyes again, not when every time looking into his face spelled trouble for you, but when you stare up at him helplessly, he looks nothing like the bubbly, carefree professor you knew.

his pupils are blown wide open, and there’s a kind of intensity settling inside of his eyes that you’ve never seen before. his lips are parted just slightly, like he’s about to say something but the words are caught on the tip of his tongue. a shiver tiptoes down your spine. he looks like a man haunted, the once cordial candlelight-esque brown of his irises running big and reckless like a wildfire.

you don’t recognize this side of him, but you don’t dislike it either. you lick your lips quickly, suddenly aware of your extremely dry mouth.

he lets out a deep exhale through his nose. “...i need you to listen to me.”

“i am,” you squeak back. your mind flashes back to minnie, to your superstar queen bee of a roommate. how would she navigate something like this? knowing her, she would navigate this gracefully. she could probably play it off as a joke and laugh around with professor hinata. she could bat her eyelashes and charm him, maybe pass this off as a bit of awkward flirting and walk away scot free. you’ve never had the same social grace that she manages to pull off so effortlessly.

“i… i apologize if i’m reading too much in between the lines.” he sounds strained, as if he’s holding a part of him back. his eyes are locked onto you, honed in as if you’ll skirt away out of his sight. “but i don’t think either of us can ignore whatever it is we have going on. i want to make myself clear here. i am your professor, and you are my student. the mature, responsible thing for me to do as your instructor is to ignore your remark and to move on. if that is what you want, then i will let you walk out of my office. we can pretend nothing happened. everything that happened here stays between us.”

you pause, and you wring your hands together. you know that that’s the choice you should take. that your relegated role in this song and dance is to be the good kid and to never stray away from your place as a nobody bookworm with good grades and nothing special. and yet your mouth moves, “...is there another option?”

he clenches his jaw. he has to be at his limit, just as much as you are. you see the edge in his eyes, flaring like sparks, waiting for you to touch and him to come away burned. you don’t care. you’re hurtling straight at the point of no return, and you’re burning up, beautiful and flaming and waiting to be consumed into nothingness.

“i… we take care of this whole thing. but i want to make sure you want this as much as i do. i hope you understand the gravity of what this means for both of us. it’s very, very wrong for a teacher and a student to be in love with each other.” professor hinata takes a big breath in, and he shoves his hand through the wild tufts of his orange hair. “but if you are insistent on pursuing this route with me, so long as you’re willing to accept your responsibility, then…”

he stops, and he whispers the last part, barely and only loud enough for your ears, “...i can’t say that i can refuse you.”

your hands curl into decisive fists in your lap. so this is where you are. these are the conditions that life has mercilessly thrown at your feet. your heart and brain are at odds with each other. your mind screams at you to think of your future, that your life would certainly be ruined if anyone would find out that you had an illicit relationship with your professor. and what about him? it would spell a certain social death for him too if he were to be found out.

but your heart begs. you’ve ignored its cries for basically your entire life now, always picking the expected thing, pushing down your own wants in exchange for the security and the safety of a quiet life. this is one time in your life that you’ve truly wanted something, truly yearned for it with your entire existence. how is it fair to deny this from yourself? haven’t you given enough up? you gave up sociability when making friends with minnie, gave up a chance at normalcy when breaking up with your ex, and now love with professor hinata?

“i know there’s a right answer, professor hinata,” you hang your head. uneasiness claws at your ribcage, but the desire bubbling up inside of you hurts even more. “but i’m sorry. i don’t think i have it in me to be good anymore.”

he waits a beat, and the silence hangs above you like the weight of a million sins. the laugh he lets out is airy, relieved. “i was hoping you’d say that. well… come here. let me have you.”

you don’t know how you don’t trip over your own feet as you get up. you walk over to him as if in a trance, looking down at your professor with shaking eyes. he looks so confident as he grins up at you, legs spread slightly in that old office chair of his, every part of him just as inviting and tempting as the day you first laid eyes on him.

you’re practically crawling into his lap, and his strong arms are around you. his mouth is instantly on yours, and you gasp, the feeling of soft lips consuming you entirely. this wasn’t your first kiss by a long shot, but it was your first kiss with him. and god, it was everything those stupid romance movies made a kiss out to be: electric, addictive, leaving you dizzy and giddy and reeling in his embrace.

you’re glad he’s there to hold you. you place your hands shyly on his chest, warmth pooling in your stomach when you can feel the strong tension of his muscles. you never realized you were this downright touch starved, basically melting into putty in his hands as he kisses you over and over again, the hushed sounds of your lips locked together and breathless pants filling the room.

your head spins. this must be the charm of an experienced lover. his touches mold into yours, adjusting to you and making you feel as if you can put your trust wholly into him. his tongue laps at your lips, and you let him in, let him swirl his tongue deep into your mouth. you feel so full on the inside, your chest swelling with everything you’re repressed coming out now in droves. his tongue moves around yours, and your ears drink up the lewd sounds of your french kissing.

his hands grasp at you firmly, memorizing your touch and the way your body feels under his palms. his thick thighs make for the perfect seat, and you cling to him as he kisses you. making out with him feels like an eternity but also as if no time has passed at all, whisked away into the special place meant solely for lovers, sincerely lost in your own world with him. he feels so good around you and under your skin, even better than the fleeting fantasies you might allow yourself to have.

a strand of saliva connects the two of you when he pulls away from you finally. your chest heaves as you gulp down oxygen, your fingertips shaking as you curl them into the soft fabric of his sweater.

“you…,” he gasps, unable to tear his eyes away from your clearly shaken form, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that to you.”

heat nestles deep inside your stomach. it’s wicked and possessive, but you want to be special to him. and now you know that you are, your desire to have more of him is insatiable. something throbs and pulses within your core, and it’s pitiful just how weak you are to him after a handful of well-executed kisses. fuck having any kind of stupid romance with some dumb college boy your age: none of them could even dream of leaving you this stunned and your body itching for literally anything more.

you grasp at him. “please- please, more- kiss me again… i need it- i need more-”

“-shhh, i’ve got you, pretty.” he moves in so close to your face, his lips only a breath away from yours. you’ve never had someone kiss you so carnally before, his desire emanating off of him in thick waves. you’re probably no better, begging for your hot professor to make out more with you as if his tongue wasn’t down your throat mere seconds ago and as if it isn’t his spit that’s coating your lips thickly.

it feels right. there’s no other way for you to describe him kissing you again. his lips move so gently against yours and yet brims with a kind of brutish need. it’s like he doesn’t want to scare you away but can barely contain himself, not when he has you right where he wants you. you don’t mind. you want him to be greedy, and you want him to take you wholly.

you’re so happy, and you love it when his tongue is in your mouth, guiding your clumsy movements. it’s lewd kissing you’ve only seen couples do through the drunken haze of some seedy frat basement during a crazy party or in a raunchy porn video, and you get it. it finally clicks inside your head why people go crazy for these kinds of things, why people lose their minds when they’re unable to fully get a grasp over their own sexual needs. it’s like an awakening for you, as if some monster that had been caged in your heart is now breaking free of its restraints.

you moan shamelessly into professor hinata’s mouth. you need more. just kissing isn’t enough, only having his tongue in your mouth isn’t enough. the pounding between your hips won’t go away, and if anything, it’s getting worse with each passing second. he’s turning you on, and your body refuses to listen to you. but why should you hold back? he’s right there for you, and you’re willing to give yourself to him without any room for regret.

“please-,” you sound so needy, so desperate, so unlike any part of the removed personality you kept around your professor. “touch me more… i need you, professor-”

“-don’t call me that,” he whispers against your mouth. “shoyo. call me shoyo. i’m not your professor right now.”

“shoyo,” the name tastes like sticky sweet honey against your mouth, “touch me, shoyo.”

his hands snake down to your waist, and he looks at you expectantly as his fingertips slip under your shirt. you shudder when his fingertips press firmly into your skin and flesh, like a reminder of what you’re getting yourself into. “good girl. do you want me to go all the way with you right now?”

“yes! god, please, yes- shoyo, take me.” you bury your head into the crook of his neck. his calming scent floods your nose, and you think you’re going into heat. “i’ve never needed someone more in my life.”

something hard presses up against your crotch. he grunts, “that’s a dangerous thing to say to me.”

you let him lift your shirt away from your body, coaxing it gently over your head before tossing it somewhere onto his office floor. your body heats up, blood pumping under your skin. you prickle slightly against the cold office air, and you bite down a bit on your tongue. his hands crawl up the expanse of your stomach and up to your chest, and he looks at you as if he’s been starved.

“god, you drive me crazy,” he breathes. your voice catches somewhere in the back of your throat. you can feel the warmth of his palms hovering over your breasts, the thin fabric of your bra doing nothing to protect you from him. “to think you’ve been hiding from me this entire time, right under my nose…”

you gasp when he gropes you through your bra, his hands molding against your breasts. you fill his palms out so easily, and you grind down against his lap, sparks flying inside of your mind. you grip onto him again, breathing needily against the crook of his neck as he plays with your chest, letting you adjust to the feeling of his heavy hands on your body.

he touches you so sweetly and so beautifully. not like the clumsy horny ways boys your age would, but with confidence and reverence, like he purposefully wants to take his time with you. you whimper when his fingers hook into the cups of your bra, and you let him yank it down to fully free your chest.

your pussy throbs when his hands are on your bare breasts. he massages the soft flesh, chuckling softly whenever he hears you keen and choke out a breath into his neck. his fingers find your nipples quickly, and heat flares under your cheeks and inside your gut when he pinches at them gently, your body reacting faster to his touch than your mind can.

you grind down onto his lap, feeling his hard bulge in between your thighs. you need more, need something inside you.

he grits his teeth when he feels you trying to hump his clothed cock. “careful, sweetheart. i’m trying to take my time with you.”

his hands move to your back, fully undoing your bra and letting it drop forgotten to the floor. you don’t care. you want him all over your body. you want his calloused hands all over your tits, pinching and teasing your nipples, filling out his hands with your breasts, like your body was made to match his.

“i know-,” you sound shaky. you are shaky, barely holding yourself together. you clench your eyes shut as he plays with your tits again. pleasure surges downwards every time he plays with your sensitive nipples, rubbing his fingertips into them or just letting the skin-to-skin contact get to your head. “i just- i can’t- i can’t control myself anymore, shoyo-”

“i got you, i got you,” he laughs. if only you could know his own madness, the insanity that runs rampant in his mind knowing that he can have you in any way he wants. “shit, and i thought i’d take it slow. be a good gentleman for you. clearly that isn’t making the cut.”

you let out a small shriek as he lifts you from his lap, and the next thing you know, you’re slumped over his desk. your bare chest is against the cold wood of his workspace, and he hovers above your back, your ass against his crotch. you whimper into his desk, and your breath fogs up against the polished wood.

your cunt clenches painfully around nothing as he grinds his hips into your ass, his erection rubbing all over your thighs and butt. your saliva pools inside your mouth when you hear him groan and buck his hips into you, mimicking the motions of penetrative sex as he drinks up the friction. his hands hold firmly at your hips and waist, anchoring himself to your body.

he doesn’t need to do much. if you can already feel him this prominently, just how big was his dick?

“i-i can feel so much of you already.” you glance back at him. the thrums of arousal inside you are almost unbearable. you don’t feel like yourself, only like a husk of person fiending for release.

“yeah?” his grip on you tightens slightly, and he peers down at you. “fuck- have you had sex before? is this your first time?”

“no, it isn’t- i’ve had sex before- with a few guys on campus and mostly with my ex…,” you trail off, not wanting to think about it any further. “it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t count.”

he chuckles, shaking his head at your small joke. “can you feel how hard i am? how big i am?”

“yes,” you exhale. you want him inside you. you want him to take your pants off already and stick his cock inside your cunt. you want him to make a mess out of your insides, to take the weeks of pent up lust and to let it loose. you want your pussy to be ravaged by him, for him to not stop until you’re a wreck underneath him. “so big… i want it so bad…”

“am i bigger than your ex?” it’s a question posed dangerously, a blade wrapped in cloth. you dip your face down so that your forehead touches the wood. you nod shakily, glad that you have his desk to hold onto for support so that your knees don’t give out.

he smirks. the ends of his mouth curl upwards into a cruel smile. it’s the satisfaction of a predator right as it’s about to sink its teeth into its prey, relishing the sadistic thrill of knowing that his influence, that his power remains on top.

“forget everything about that boy,” he spits the last word, as if it’s something bitter. “you feel me? feel this cock? yeah, i know you do. this is how big a real man’s cock is.”

you might as well have had the wind knocked out of you. his hands make their way to your pants, and you move with him, letting them fall by your ankles. your panties follow suit, and you’re left shivering with anticipation against his desk, fully naked. nothing can protect you from his wandering eyes now, and while you can’t see him, you can feel his gaze boring into your exposed cunt.

you can feel how wet you are, your imagination doing the most in making you feel like you were going to overheat while making out with him. your slick drips out of your hole, and your cunt weeps, begging for something to fill you up and get rid of that incessant ache in your belly.

“turn over,” he commands you. any sense of the warm professor you used to shirk around is gone, replaced by an intensity entirely foreign to you. you comply, and you gasp when shoyo sinks down to his knees. his hands are on your knees, and he pries your legs apart to slot himself. you’re fully laying on his desk at this point, and his face is mere inches away from your hole.

“i-...” you don’t know what to say. you feel like you’re going to choke on your own breath, embarrassment at having a man so close to your pussy threatening to consume you whole.

shoyo, on the other hand, is utterly entranced. the sight of your bare cunt has him bewitched. his cock throbs painfully inside of his pants. the little tease he got from you trying to grind down on him and then rubbing himself against your ass has done nothing but wet his appetite, and he knows how much he’s been waiting painstakingly for this moment.

your voice dies out in the back of your throat when he grabs your thighs, and before you know it, his mouth is on your cunt. he kisses your pussy, and you nearly buck your hips into his mouth. his tongue laps in between your lower lips sensually, coating his mouth in as much of your juices as he can. his grip on you is firm, making sure that you can’t wiggle away from him. he wants you to feel every single second of him eating you out, make sure you feel his tongue against every part of your hole.

his tongue captures your clit, swirling slowly around the sensitive bud. you clench your eyes shut, and the first shockwaves of pleasure shoot straight to your brain. “ah- shoyo- fuck-!”

he keeps kissing and sucking at your clit, determined to shower you with so much attention. he takes his time. he flicks the tip of his tongue against the bud, leaving you recoiling against the cool material of his desk, and he presses the broad of his tongue against it, letting you grind down how you want into his mouth. he mimics your movements, and you’re left gasping and mewling when he moves down. teasing your clit turns into broad licks up your slit, and your thighs shake and threaten to close around his head if it weren’t for his firm grip on you.

his tongue circles your hole, and he smirks into you when he can feel you quiver and clench around him. he’s snaking himself all over your cunt, lavishing each part of your pussy with a good dosage of love and spit. every time he drags his tongue against your slit, threatening to slip into your hole but not quite, you’re left reeling in the aftermath. you need something inside you, anything. you’re so horrendously turned on, and as much as the clitoral stimulation has you seeing stars, you need more.

“shoyo…” god, he loves it when you moan out his name. he just can’t get enough of the way the syllables roll off of your tongue, and you choke out his name, elongated the sound and clinging to his name as if he’s the only thing you’ve ever known.

your pussy continues to drool for him, and he’s smacking his lips, drinking up every drop of your juices as if he can’t get enough. it’s a perfect reminder of how much he wants you. he thinks you’re perfect, a gift sent down from whatever divinity might be out there, hand-crafted to take his love and to love him in return. you taste heavenly on his tongue, your slick coating his mouth thickly. with each swallow, it’s like you’re becoming a part of him, and it makes him dizzy.

you tremble under his touch. he keeps capturing your clit the way you like it best. he teases you, lets you feel pleasure. the pleasured hums of his voice vibrate against your clit, constantly stimulated by his tongue and lips. the throngs of arousal inside your gut keep mounting, growing, twisting and coiling it on itself, keeling to be freed, to be let loose so you can cum all over his mouth as if you’ve lost all control of your body.

“feels good-,” your breathing shakes as you reach down, grabbing a fistful of his bright orange hair. the man moans in such a depraved manner against you, and you clench painfully, your pussy feeling as if it’s contorting into a way physically impossible from how sheerly aroused you are. “make me cum, please! ‘m so close- wanna cum- wanna cum in your mouth, shoyo…! you’re making me feel so good!”

“yeah?” he detaches himself momentarily. he licks his lips and swallows, chest heaving at your sweet taste overwhelming all of his senses. his brain is screaming for him to fuck you, but he doesn’t want to. he wants to see you feel good from just his mouth first, to coax one orgasm out of you so that your nerves are properly awakened. that would make fucking your pussy out on his cock so much more worthwhile. “am i making you feel good, pretty girl? enough to beg for it?”

you nod feverishly, even though you should know that he can’t see you. your drenched pussy speaks enough for itself. he’s too good at this, the experience under his belt shining through. there’s no stupid boy your age that would even think of doing you a courtesy like eating you out until you’re shaking, and here’s shoyo, eagerly lapping at your cunt without you even needing to ask.

“cumming- gonna cum- please, please, fuck…! your tongue feels so good- love it so much when you lick at me like that…,” you whimper. your back arches against the desk, and your body twitches, wanting to ride his tongue and make a mess all over his mouth. shoyo doesn’t stop his relentless movements, and he continues to suck at your clit.

arousal curls and unfurls like a pulse deep inside your stomach. you’re teetering on the edge, and you feel like you’re going crazy. your mind is turning into jelly, your wildest fantasies about your professor coming true right before your eyes, and your pussy can’t take everything happening to you. you shut your eyes again, gritting your teeth and bracing yourself for the orgasm that you’re sure is going to slam into you like a brick wall.

his tongue slithers expertly against your drenched cunt, and he presses a sticky kiss to your clit. your stomach curls inward at the intimate touch, with him pleasuring you as if it's his given duty as your lover, and that’s all it takes.

“shoyo!” you cry out, your thighs nearly wrenching themselves out of his hands. “i’m cumming- fuck! fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck-...! fuck me, fuck me, please! ah- i’m cumming…!”

he keeps on pressing his mouth all over your pussy as you cum on his mouth. red hot pleasure floods your entire body, sweeping you away from head to toe, and your thighs quiver like mad. your body feels so hot, so overwhelmed by a pleasure you’ve never had before, and your vision spins. you can’t think, not when every inch of your body has been tossed into overdrive so effortlessly by him, and your inner walls twist achingly.

you wish it was his cock you were cumming on. you’re breathless and succumbing to how good it feels to have your hole ravished by his mouth, and he eats you out through your orgasm. he’s determined to swallow up every drop of your slick, and it’s not until you’re whimpering again and pushing his forehead back weakly that he detaches himself from between your legs.

“shit, you taste so fucking sweet,” shoyo groans. he sounds almost disappointed that you pushed him off of you, your slit tingling and desperate for something bigger. the lower half of his face is shiny with your juices and spit mingling together, and he licks his lips, making sure not to let a single drop escape him. “fuck- i could eat you out all day if you’d let me. pretty girl’s got a pretty pussy too.”

your hole flutters in excitement at his praise. heat and embarrassment at the sudden intimacy flickers underneath your face, and your head is still buzzing, not fully done with your sexual high. your chest rises and falls as you rest on his desk, splayed out for him to admire as he gets up from his knees and undoes pants. you can hear the shuffling of fabric and metal as he takes off his belt and pants. your mouth goes dry as you think about his cock and how big it felt when the two of you were grinding and humping each other for a split second, and now you’re finally getting him to fuck you on it.

he lets out a low, throaty moan as he takes the last of his clothing off, and his cock is nice and hard, drops of pearly pre-cum dripping from his tip. he’s aroused that it hurts, but there’s something about seeing you still recoiling from your orgasm, the rush of pride he gets knowing that he got you off using just his mouth, makes the pain of waiting a bit longer to fuck you so much more worth it.

“how are you feeling? you doing okay?” he asks you. he grabs his cock, stroking himself a few times from base to tip, his thumb sliding over his sensitive slit to spread his pre-cum all over himself. you nod wordlessly, starting to come back down to your plane of reality as you let him slide himself in between your legs again.

you freeze when you feel his cock against your slit, and he rubs himself up and down in between your lower lips. the dull pangs of arousal are bubbling up in your gut once more, and your slick is mixing with his pre-cum to coat his cock in a makeshift kind of lube.

“d-do you have any condoms…?” you eke out. it’s his bare dick against your body right now, and as intoxicating as the thought of taking him raw and letting him stuff every inch of your womb with his cum is, you still have to think straight.

he grabs at your hips, bringing himself flush against your body. a moan catches in the back of your throat when his tip grazes against your sensitive clit, and he chuckles to himself when he sees you twitch. “not at the moment. i’ll take care of you. can you trust me?”

there’s a lump in your throat, and some deeply dead part of you sobs out that you should be responsible. but you don’t care, not when you’re this close to finally having him inside you, not when he promises to take responsibility for you. you move your head, unable to fully meet his eyes, and you nod your head yes.

“good girl,” he laughs sweetly. “you ready for me?”

“yes! please, i want you inside me… want you to fuck me…,” you whine, your head lolling onto the desk underneath you. your pussy clenches at the thought of his raw bare cock rubbing against your insides, your walls clinging to every inch of his thick cock, and you’re so, so ready to take him.

he grips the base of his cock, and he lines himself up. he watches, enraptured, as your hole pulses around his cockhead. you groan needily as he fucks his tip in and out of you, just to watch your pussy cling to him, wanting to pull him in fully. you’re just about to whine and complain when he finally pushes himself in, and your breathing dies out in your chest as your walls stretches out to adjust to him being inside you.

“...fuck-! ah- you’re so big-,” your voice immediately starts slurring as he pushes past the resistance. it burns yet it feels deathly euphoric to have something stretching you out like that, to feel every bit of your pussy being invaded and stuffed out onto shoyo’s girthy cock. you’re coaxing him in effortlessly, and his fingers curl into the flesh of your waist and hips as he tries to ground himself.

he sucks in a harsh inhale through his gritted teeth, his eyebrows furrowing. you’re so tight and wet and downright heavenly wrapped around his length. he can’t stop looking between your legs, right where the two of you are joined together for the first time, but you’re squeezing and fluttering around him just right even though all he did was put it in. it’s taking all of his concentration not to waver and lose himself in the feeling.

jerking off desperately by himself doesn’t even come close to how good your pussy feels. he could stay like this forever, feeling your velvety walls pulse around him, wanting to pull his cock in even further until he swears his tip is kissing the entrance to your womb. he takes in a deep breath, and he does his best to clear his head so he can start fucking you properly.

“you’re so fucking tight… shit, did you want my cock that badly?” he manages out shakily. “fuck, it’s like your pussy’s milking me already, sweetheart.”

“mhm… it’s so, so big…,” you murmur, dazed. “never- never had cock like this before- you’re filling me up… feels like you’re in my stomach.”

“yeah? does it feel good?” he’s waiting for you to give him the all clear. your face is scrunched up, and as desperate as he is to start fucking into you like an animal, he knows better than to be a ruffian. your pleasure always comes first. that’s what real men do.

you nod weakly for what feels like the millionth time. your nerves are on fire, your previous orgasm only accentuating how much you can feel him pressed against you. his cock rubs just right against your sensitive walls, and you can’t imagine what actually having him thrusting into you is going to do to your body. “yes- so good- i’m gonna lose my mind, shoyo…”

“good answer.” he reaches over to move a strand of your hair away from your face. “i’m gonna start moving, okay? if something hurts or doesn’t feel right, you tell me right away. i’m here to make you feel good, and nothing else.”

your heart skips a beat. in a sea of fuckboys and idiot college boys that couldn’t care less about your well-being, someone like him feels less like a real person and more like a character straight from a fairy tale. “okay- you can fuck me- i want you to fuck me.”

he draws his hips back and thrusts slowly into you. you gasp, acutely aware of the sensation deep inside of you. your pussy revels at how he rubs against you, gripping onto his cock for dear life as he fucks his length in and out of you. it’s such a painfully slow pace, but you savor the feeling, savor the new stimulus of having your professor’s cock buried deep inside you. you want to commit to memory, because it’s unlike anything you’ve ever had before.

heat flares back up inside your belly again, settling and slithering in repeated coils between your hips. your vision blurs once more, and arousal creeps back into your mind, threatening to overtake every single one of your conscious thoughts. “faster, shoyo- wanna feel more of you- you’re torturing me…!”

“sorry- i can’t help it,” he laughs bitterly, his voice hushed and under his breath. “can you blame me for being obsessed with you? fuck- you’re so tight, hugging me like this… it’s like you were made to take me.”

your stomach curls in on itself at the sweet praise. you hate how easily he toys with your heart, how easily he can make you swoon and fall for him all over again, leaving you dancing and squirming right underneath the palm of his hand. literally. you swallow deeply, and it feels like there’s no inch of your body that the unbearable heat hasn’t spread to.

“faster, please- i need you so bad!” you sob, nearing your limit. cumming from his tongue was only an appetizer, and you’re hungry for more. you’ve starved yourself long enough, and his slow pace isn’t doing any favors for you. you roll your head left and right on his desk, unable to control yourself.

“you want it? prove it to me.” his voice drops a few notes, and your cunt unconsciously clenches at how dark his words sound. it’s yet another potent reminder of the man buried inside of you right now, a real man who’s determined to make you his, prince and criminal, craved and craving, dreamy and filthy all at once. “look me in the eye then. look me dead on as i fuck you.”

you let out a loud moan. his words are fucking dirty, and when he rolls his hips into you, drinking up the excruciatingly addictive way your pussy clings to his dick, you think your body is actually going to give out on you. it’s not like he’s asking for you to do anything obscene or impossible, but there’s something so disgustingly erotic and intimate about him asking you to look him straight in his face—in his eyes—as he makes love to you.

the desk is warm underneath your body, all warmed up thanks to your body heat. it’s become your subconscious refuge, taking all of your thrashing as he had his way with you, and you don’t want to think about the sure mess you’re bound to leave in your wake. your breathing trembles as you forcibly turn your face towards his, ripping your wavering gaze away from the safety of whatever else you were staring at.

your eyes meet his, and he smiles at you adoringly. there’s no more running away from him, nowhere to escape to, your eyes locked together and dancing in his pupils. you’re rendered breathless again at the vibrant color, like your own life is being squeezed from between your lips. you can’t move, and your chest feels like it’s about to cave in on itself, your ribs giving out and your heart melting into a puddle of useless muscle and putty. but this time, strangely enough, you welcome the helpless feeling. he’s got you wrapped around his pinky finger, and you finally realize that you never stood a chance.

that very first day, in that fatefully empty classroom, when you first met eyes with him, you were a fucking goner. you always were. always had been. and it was all his fault, all professor hinata’s fault.

all hinata shoyo’s fault.

“good girl.” he looks at you in a way only a lover would. his eyes soften around the edges and crinkles up as he grins. “don’t ever look away from me.”

“i won’t,” you promise. it’s the last thing you could dream of doing. not when you want it so badly, and not when he’s asking you verbatim. how could you deny him of the very thing he’s asking you to do? especially when it’s something that you’ve always been mustering up the courage to do? this is your big leap forward, your chance to prove to yourself that you can change.

he leans forward, and he lets you wrap your arms around his neck. you refuse to drop your gaze from his face, admiring every small detail of his features and letting yourself drown fully in the wide expanses of his eyes. he presses one last romantic kiss to your mouth, and that’s the last warning you get, the last bit of sweetness and gentleness you get.

he draws his hips back, and he slams himself back into you roughly. you choke out a small moan, pleasure flooding your head. he doesn’t give you any time to recover from the recoil before he’s thrusting wildly back into you again. your hole is already slick and dripping wet from his teasing and your previous climax, and it makes it all the more easy for him to slide his length in and out of you, pace picking up speed and leaving you crying out as your surprise quickly morphs into electric pleasure.

“shit- so fucking tight- god, you’re going to kill me,” he grunts. you mewl and moan incoherently, clinging to him for dear life as he fucks into you over and over again. his tip prods against your deepest parts, and surges of pleasure climb all over your nerves. his hips slam against yours, and his balls slap against the curve of your ass. lewd, wet lovemaking noises echo throughout the small office, and it echoes even louder against your ears.

it feels good, it feels so good. you never knew pleasure like this was possible, that it even existed. you thought you knew everything there was to sex already, but clearly not, if shoyo has you practically melting in his arms, your limbs numb and surrendering wholly to how good he’s making you feel. your walls keep fluttering around him, and every thrust has you crying out.

“fuck- you feel so good- shoyo- shoyo, i’m losing my mind…!” you gasp. your nails dig into his back, and you claw at him like a feral cat. your thighs quiver around his hips, but he doesn’t let up his brutal pace. with each roll of his hips, it feels like he’s knocking the wind out of you. he’s determined to fuck you stupid, and it’s working. your grip on reality is slipping fast, with the throbbing pleasure in your head taking precedence over everything.

“go crazy for me then. you feel me inside you, don’t you? good. then you can feel firsthand how fucking crazy you make me.” he grabs your hips, and he angles them ever-so-slightly before ramming into you. you grit your teeth as a tense cry escapes from you.

the new angle has you seeing stars. you’re scratching at his back, your insides lurching and reeling and being stirred up like wild. “you’re so deep… so deep inside me! nnmgh…! you’re gonna make me cum so fast- make me cum again-“

“shit, already? am i fucking you that good?” his stomach is doing flips. you’re a sight for sore eyes, refusing to look away from him as if your life depended on it. his abs strain against him as he enjoys the experience of having sex with you, sex with the student that’s been dancing around him forever. you’re splayed out like a piece of art underneath him: all sweaty, breasts bouncing, legs spread with your soft cunt eagerly taking every inch of him.

your foreheads are basically touching when you nod your head. “yes! no one’s ever made me feel this good before- never had cock like yours-“

he almost laughs. oh, he’s bet you’ve never had anyone like him. what would your ex, your past flings know about pleasing women? all he wanted was to make you go crazy like this. he wants to sink you deep into pleasure, and he wants to make it so that you don’t ever think about other men after he’s done with you. he wants you in your entirety. he can’t do halfway.

“i told you already,” he purrs. his words drip off of his tongue like sticky syrup. “it’s because you’re having sex with a man this time. not with a boy. a real, grown man. someone that can take care of you. someone that can treat you right.”

it’s hard to think. he speeds up, leaving you fighting to keep your eyes open. the intense look in shoyo’s eyes are nothing like your own fucked out look, but at the same time, you’re sure the intoxicated gleam in his is the same as yours. is it love or desire that connects you two?

“most importantly…” his fingers dig into your flesh, securing your hips in place and leaving you at his mercy. you can feel your juices leaking out, coating your ass and making wet sounds whenever his hips smash into yours. he cranes his head, and his lips are almost on top of yours, threatening to close the gap and brush his lips across yours. “someone that can actually fuck you.”

oh fuck. you don’t stand a fucking chance against him. all of the sensations are rapidly racking up in your body, and with how deep he’s thrusting into you, you can barely hold onto yourself. you’re gonna cum soon again, you just know it. you feel the tightness inside your belly, and with how effectively he’s seducing you, whispering all kinds of lewd things and making sure that you keep your eyes locked on him while fucking you, you have nowhere to run away.

“i can’t take it- so rough- can’t take much more-,” you whimper. your mind is going blank, and all that you can think of is him. his body feels heavy and good on top of you, and having you scratch his back out of pleasure only spurs him on. he can feel you slipping and losing control of yourself, and he rocks you close to himself. he wonders if you can feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest, huffing short breaths as he keeps up his steady yet brutal pace.

he looks at you, and a smirk dangles off of his face. “yes, you can. you can take it. i know you can. you’ll be good for me, won’t you? let me make you feel good.”

your breathing hitches. it’s taking all of your mental strength not to topple over the edge right now. everything’s rushing too fast to your head right now, and all of your nerves are standing on edge, enthusiastically lapping up the pure euphoria coursing through your veins. but you want to make shoyo happy, you want to cum together with him, and as much as he said this lovemaking session was about you, you want to be able to match the pace he set.

“for you- just for you-,” you struggle to get the words out, the final syllables slurring together into a slight babble. so much for your usually well-put together, prudent academic facade. any trace of the well-trained, well-behaved student is long gone, replaced by a dirty, senseless, corrupted, and lascivious soul that lives and dies for shoyo’s love. “wanna be good- wanna be good only for you…”

“good. you’re mine. all mine,” he murmurs. the pleasure is sharp and dull all at once, all consuming and delicate, sinking you down into the murky waves inside the recesses of your mind only to drag you back to the surface, leaving you shuddering and grasping as if you had been drowned for real. shoyo likes it. he adores the reactions he gets out of you.

this is a kind of pleasure only he can give you. you’ve never had this with anyone else before, and he’ll make it so that you can’t find it from anyone else, not unless it’s with him. these faces you’re making, twisting in ecstasy and crying out with a voice like a songbird, are for him to enjoy only. they’re exclusive to him, only meant for his eyes, and he consumes it, fiending for more.

“shoyo- can’t- ‘t’s too good- i’m going crazy…!” you strain to breathe, your chest feeling inhumanly tight. parts of your brain light up like wired lights, blooming and flickering. you’re terribly close, and you know this one is going to take you whole and blow out any sense of being in your body. “shoyo- shoyo…”

“fucking christ- if you moan my name like that… you’ll make me want to do horrible things to you. so much more fucking worse than what i’m doing to you right now, sweetheart. this is just the start right here.” something pricks at your hips, and he digs his nails into your hips. he never thought himself to be such a possessive man, but he can’t deny the insanity that’s taken root in his brain for weeks now. it does something to him, to have his dick inside of you but to also hear you calling for him. him, him specifically, his name, emerging from your mouth as if he’s someone you revere. maybe at one point you did, but his yearning to have you turned him into something monstrous and all too human.

but perhaps that same madness overtook you and that was what brought the two of you together. shoyo finds it funny: the idea of something as sacred as love growing from something so depraved. and yet he’s fascinated by it, fascinated by the possibility that you’re no better than him, that your respect for him may just as easily be swapped for a kind of convenience to quell your own heart.

he doesn’t know what it all means. now isn’t the time for him to get philosophical. he’s balls-deep inside the pretty student he’s been pining over, and he’s so close to getting you to cum. wouldn’t that be a better reward than anything else he’s carefully built up? years of self preservation and swallowing down his personal desires for what’s “best” for his future be damned, he wants you. he wants you, he wants, he wants you.

you wonder if this is the end of your rope. you’re so close, so near the edge, and you’re clenching so desperately around his cock. you’re eclipsed entirely by the sight of your frightened and frantic reflection in his wide eyes, and you barely recognize yourself. so this is what you look like when you’re being mercilessly railed by your hot professor. your mouth is agape as you moan out for the male on top of you, face flushed and sweat beading your forehead like some kind of crown.

“gonna cum- gonna cum! shoyo- just a bit more-” your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. your body isn’t yours at this point, having given up in exchange for the fire that burns your core, the snakes inside your belly hissing and twisting and pulsing. “i’m cumming- gonna cum- i can’t hold back anymore-!!”

“go ahead,” he whispers. his mouth itches to kiss you, to swallow up your wounded gasps. he wants to feel your body go slack again like he had done once before, to push you into that wonderful place where nothing and everything was real at once. he’s sure your body’s overrun with complex sensations and pure euphoria, and he loves watching you turn into a shell of yourself. “cum on my cock, pretty girl. you’ll be mine, won’t you?”

you barely nod your head, and shoyo’s drawing his hips back and snapping them back into you at a particularly rough angle. you tense up underneath him, back arching and limbs going stiff. your eyes widen, gaze still connected with him, and your body fully gives out.

“sh- shoyo…!” your voice is shrill as you sob out one final moan, and your orgasm grips the entirety of your body. it feels good, it aches, it throbs, and it demands so much of you. your velvety walls clamp down on his thick cock like a vice, milking him and clinging to him, and your climax refuses to give shoyo a chance to breathe. he digs his ankles into the ground and keeps thrusting wildly into you, wanting to keep the flare swallowing you up going for a bit longer. he grits his teeth as you squirm underneath him, and you can barely keep your eyes open. you want to clench them shut and throw your head back so bad, but whatever little control you have remaining on your conscious keeps them open, just for him.

you’re fighting against the currents swirling and whirlpooling inside your brain. whatever heat was bottled up inside your body rushes out, and you’re cumming all over shoyo’s girth. he’s keeping you stretched out, and your stomach feels like it’s going to cave in on itself. it’s nothing but pure bliss, the kind that makes you feel as if you’re floating, and you’re rendered breathless, each inhale precious and fleeting and almost incognizant. your vision swims, and tears settle on your waterline, just threatening to topple over. your field of sight is blurry, and yet even amongst all of the chaos, you can make out the dapples of brown in shoyo’s eyes, forever in tandem with him as if he were a planet in orbit around your sun.

you’re gasping for air, finally having gotten the release you had been chasing for what felt like an eternity. shoyo breathes heavily and raggedly, as if he had run a marathon, and he’s barely holding on himself. your insides are fucking massaging him, stroking his cock all over, squeezing and hugging and rubbing all up against his sensitive length.

“shit- fuck-,” he chokes out. fuck- he didn’t expect that seeing you cum would take so much out of him. his mind is teetering, and his muscles strain against him, his abs prominent. you’re refusing to let go of him, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can genuinely hold on for. he should be responsible, at least try to pick up the pieces of the mess that you two made, and pull out, cum into a napkin or a trash can or his hand or literally anywhere inside of your sweet cunt, but whatever resolve inside his chest whimpers as if he’s killing it when the thought brushes against his mind.

he wants to cum inside you. he has to. he needs to go that extra step, cement himself physically into you, promise to take care of you again and again for whatever happens next. he’s a real lover, someone who’ll take all of your brokenness and insecurity and fear and make them dissolve and melt away as if it were sugar. he’s sure they’d be equally as sweet to, so long as it came from you.

“god- fuck- take me- i’ll take care of you- take care of anything that happens next- fuck- just… just stay with me-,” he breathes out, body shaking. a cry catches in the back of your throat when he fucks himself in as deep as he can go, his cockhead pressing right up against your cervix. he buries himself into you, and he leans forward, capturing your lips in one last deep kiss, tongue swirling in your mouth and filling up your senses entirely with him.

your moans are muffled by him when you feel him cum deep inside you. something hot and heavy floods your cunt, pumping into you in generous spurts. it’s warm, and his cock takes on a second pulse inside of you, like a heartbeat as semen trickles into your womb and all through your cunt. your body feels hot, every inch of your pussy drenched and coated with shoyo’s cum. a few stray drops escape from you, but with him pressing his body flush against you and his cock still stuffed inside your cunt, most of the cum remains plugged inside you as he gasps for air, his high overtaking him.

“fuck… fu-uck,” his voice is gruff and airy. “god- you keep fucking milking me- shit, i came inside too- oh god…”

he nearly collapses on top of you, and his chest is on yours. the two of you lay there, breathing deeply and just enjoying the post-sex warmth of each others’ bodies. you’re still buzzing slightly, your head heavy as if you had just woken up from a long nap, but regular feeling is starting to seep back into your limbs. your body is pulling itself out from the haze, and while exhausted and quite literally fucked out of your mind, you’re regaining control over yourself as the minutes pass.

you admire shoyo’s form, the beautiful curves of muscle all over his back and shoulders, the lines on his face that could come only with age. it’s too early for you to worry, too early to really know the true consequences of your actions, and yet, there’s something bittersweet at the tip of your tongue when you look down adoringly at shoyo. morally, you know that this can’t continue. the best course of action you could have taken was to not fuck him, but now that you’ve gone and crossed that bridge, the next best thing you can do is to nip this in the bud and to avoid making a habit of this.

but you already know that you’re not strong enough to do that. you can’t go back, not when you’ve had a taste of everything you’ve already wanted.

you wrap your arms around shoyo a bit tighter, and you hold him closer to your heart. he buries his head into the crook of your neck, the shaky eye contact that you had kept up with him now broken. he inhales deeply and takes in your scent, and you wordlessly both celebrate and mourn everything that had built up and broken in between you and the man you had pined after for so long.

“...i’ll go buy some plan b for you.” he’s the first to break the silence. “there are some napkins in my office that i can clean you up with. you stay put. i… i lost control of myself there, and i don’t want you to strain yourself. do you think you can eat and drink a bit?”

your mind is nowhere near as clear as you’d want it to be, but you rasp out quietly, “yeah. i’m okay.”

“do you have any classes after this? fuck- i lost track of time too. i can write you a note and email whatever professor you have after me. i’m sorry- i really shouldn’t have gotten that carried away.” shoyo peels himself off of your body, and a whimper of protest dies out in your mouth.

“i don’t have any classes. i’m basically free for the rest of the day, so you don’t need to worry about it. i- uh- i appreciate it though…” your arms feel cold and empty without him, and he maneuvers himself to grab a wad of napkins to position underneath your ass to catch the cum dripping out of you as he drags his now soft cock out.

you simultaneously feel empty and full all at once. his cum still undoubtedly lingers inside you, but without him physically in you, you feel as if something big has been sucked out of your soul. your stream of consciousness meanders to the idea of soulmates, and if this is what it must feel like.

you don’t know how to breach any further though. he’s immediately flipped his professional switch back on, cleaning both of you up without any further words, and you don’t think it’s proper though to keep demanding more from him. in his eyes, this might be nothing more than a bad lapse in judgment and not something he wants to keep pursuing in the same way you want to.

a lump forms in your throat at the thought, and your heart shakes. your heart physically hurts. it aches and throbs as if it were torn apart, the stringy sinews and muscles begging for at least a bone to be thrown your way.

you hang your head, swallowing your despair back down the best you can. it’s not your place. it’s not your place.

he hands you an unopened water bottle, and you mutter a solemn word of thanks before cracking the lid and gulping a few mouthfuls down. he’s bent over and collecting all of your clothes, mixed together with him, and despite still being naked in front of him, you don’t feel any shame at all. this whole charade shouldn’t have felt as good and guiltless as it does, and you don’t want this to leave on the melancholy note that it is.

but as shoyo slips his sweater back on over his head and adjusts his hair, it’s hard not to mistake his professionalism for distance. you’re aware that you aren’t proper lovers, no boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, but what kind of sane human doesn’t yearn for a sense of connection and reassurance after something so intimate? all you want is to cuddle with him for a few minutes longer, have him smile sheepishly up at you as he peppers kisses onto your face, his big calloused hands holding you firmly.

you set the water bottle down. reality is never as clear cut nor as easy as fantasy is, and at this point, that should be a revelation you’ve carved into your heart by now. you steel your resolve the best you can, the one thing you’ve learned better than any other lesson your painful years of adulthood have taught you, and you reach for your own clothes.

you look messy with your clothes haphazardly thrown on and trepidation clinging like a fog to your psyche, and you’re ready to basically skitter out of his office as you always do and keep your head down until the semester ends. then you’ll be out of his hair and hopefully this would be nothing more than another minor heartbreak for you to get past.

“where are you going? if you don’t mind staying put for a little bit longer, i’ll go fetch the plan b.” a hand lands on your shoulder as you prepare to leave, and you stop dead in your tracks. you look over, and shoyo looks down at you as if he’s confused.

you hold your breath. you know better than to hope, and yet the flash of emotion that flies across your chest is undeniable. “you… don’t want me to go?”

his face immediately morphs into a deep frown, and his brows furrow. he looks horrified, as if you had picked out the worst words for the situation and spat them at his feet. “no! of course not. who do you think i am? why would i kick you out right after having sex? after harping on for so long about treating you right? gosh, you think so lowly of me. i was only cleaning up! here, there should be some snacks i keep stashed away in the second drawer over there. i’ll be zippity quick with the plan b run, i promise. get something in your tummy in the meantime, and then we can chat.”

chat? the word dangles above you like a loaded bullet. not everything is some kind of fucked up mental game, but it stuns you how he constantly manages to stay a step ahead you in everything.

you want to ask about what. about the future state of your relationship? about how both of your lives are going to undoubtedly be marked in a different way now because of this? about how the rest of the semester is going to go? about how you might never be able to muster the courage to show your face to society again, depending on how the conversation proceeds? there’s a whole slew of questions waiting to be asked, but when he beams at you, his smile more boyish and endearing than anything else, it’s like he simply melts away all of your anxieties.

it’s downright unfair, the sheer effect he has on you. but you don’t want it to stop, ever. you want him to continue confusing you and amazing you, leaving you questioning yourself and all of your worldviews. you don’t understand him, not one bit, and yet it feels like you know too much, used too much of your wiles to force him into showing his hand and leave both of you at some kind of stalemate.

“what comes after that then?” that’s all you manage to blurt out amidst all of your fluctuating emotions. you don’t want him to leave, don’t want the beautiful man to slip away from your fingers after you only just got to keep him, no matter how short or necessary it might be. you’re not thinking straight, but what part of any of this came from logical thinking anyway? good behavior only got you so far, and good behavior isn’t going to keep him.

he grins, a smile that could rival sunshine even through your internalized storm. “that’s easy. you said you were free, yeah? i drop you off at home for a little bit so you can properly get cleaned up and get a fresh change of clothes. then i pick you up again, surprise you with a big bouquet of roses, and i buy you a nice dinner. dessert and drinks included. then i drop you back off home, and if you’re down for it, we do that a few times. then, y’know… i ask you out properly on our third or fourth date.”

your heart flutters in your chest. your heart has always been a caged bird, the last part of yourself you could never fully tame. stuffing it in a constricted box and ignoring it has gotten you only so far, and shoyo presses the key to the cage into your hand and coaxes you into unlocking and opening up the impenetrable door. your eyes widen slightly. it’s too early to get your hopes up again, but at the same time, when he’s stating his interest and desire to make something serious out of this, to actually take you on as a proper girlfriend and not as a one time fling, to go the whole nine yards and make it the romantic experience you’ve always wanted deep deep down, you think it’s only fair that you let yourself have this.

after years and years of repression, you’re getting your first reprieve. the first sign of spring after what felt like an unending winter, the long awaited gulp of water after wallowing in the murky depths, the fabled light at the end of the tunnel, a reminder that everything truly isn’t as hopeless as your twisted mind likes to make it, that you’re just as deserving of goodness and love and rightfulness as much as those around you, no matter how vehemently you once denied it against the very wishes of your heart. you’re done stifling your own desires, and while it won’t be something you fix overnight, you’re sure it’s shoyo that drew out those first steps.

“i don’t like ruining the surprise like this, but… i’m sure you don’t mind. still, do me a favor and act surprised when i do bring you flowers and take you out on a dinner date, okay?” he winks at you, laughing to himself. he looks so happy with himself, truly giddy like a boy waiting to ask his crush out. you don’t know how he can go in between being the cool professor you fell for and the man that charmed you so effortlessly, but you aren’t complaining. you want to acquaint yourself with every side there is to shoyo and to fall deeply in love with each and every part of him you discover.

you smile back softly in return. you play the innocent card, and you tilt your head slightly in a show of fake confusion. “don’t worry. date? what date? aren’t you running out to get me just plan b?”

“atta girl. you always catch on quickly. it’s that smart mind of yours,” he laughs again, louder this time. his voice reminds you of bells ringing in the morning sun. each syllable feels like he’s thawing you out, and it’s something to be venerated with every part of your soul. he approaches you to steal a kiss from your lips, and the touch is so sweet and gone too quickly. you want another, but you know he’ll be back soon and you’ll have as many kisses as you’d like, as many as he’d let you have.

he cups your face with one hand, and his thumb rubs over the apple of your cheek. it’s such a gentle touch, and yet it makes you feel weak in the knees, like your body feels a sense of magnetic attraction to him that makes you want him to hold you and nothing else. he leans down ever so slightly, enough so that he can look at you directly in your eyes again.

you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the way he leaves you breathless when he gazes at you, the intense look always leaving you stunned and glued in your place, the same split second that proved to be the first taste of the forbidden fruit. something bristles and hangs in the air, like electricity, and this time, you recognize it to be the anticipation of getting something you’ve wanted, like an excitement gripping at your throat, and the happiness of your heart beating not just for you but for someone else, for the very first time.

shoyo grins at you, at you alone. his eyes twinkle fondly.

“i love you,” he whispers without any trace of doubt in his voice.

your lips move, “i love you too, shoyo.”

you don’t blink. you won’t blink so long as he’s looking at you.

and you swear to never look away from those beautiful, beautiful eyes.

author's note: i owe @thomae a million thank yous for letting me write her idea! thank you thank you thank you so much for letting me bounce all of my ideas off of you and bothering you incessantly about this fic!! it ended up getting a lot longer than i originally intended (×﹏×) but regardless, i hope everyone enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!! (´ ε ` )♡ please stay safe in the new year, and if you enjoyed my writing, you can show your appreciation by donating to the humanitarian cause in gaza!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hinata shoyo #x reader #fem reader #my writing

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