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I used to get lost in your eyes
Pairing: Remus Lupin x reader (first person).
My hands are shaking. Any minute now, he'll come walking through that door and I'll have to break both of our hearts. Any minute now, I will have my last moment with him, and my bones are threatening to break under the weight of that knowledge. Keys rattle on the other side of the door, and I take a deep breath to stabilize my thundering heart. It does not do the trick.
"Hey, how was..." His voice trails off when he sees my packed bags by the door. There's no reason to try and hide the tears making their way down my cheeks. He'll know soon enough what will happen tonight.
"We need to talk." The four worst words in a relationship. My voice remains steady despite the cold making a home in my veins.
"What's going on?" He still has one foot out in the hallway as if not fully entering the room will change the outcome of tonight. It won't.
"I can't do this anymore. I can't keep waiting for you to let me in, because I don't think you'll ever be ready. And I definitely can't continue to be shut out when you're struggling. It hurts too much." I feel my bottom lip quiver as I try to reel back some of the feelings threatening to rip their way out of my heart. For so long, I've managed to keep them contained, but I can't do it anymore. I am tired.
"Please, don't. You know I've been working on this. You know I'm trying to-to-I don't want to lose you." Finally, he enters the room to walk over to me and get on his knees in front of me. For once, I can read him as an open book. The fear of losing me, the broken heart already demanding to be felt even though I'm still here. I see it all, but it's too late.
"I can't keep clawing at your walls, darling. My nails haven't even managed to make a single scratch." Nothing on this earth could prepare me for the feeling in my chest as I watch all hope evaporate from his face. I have to consciously remind myself why this is necessary. How many evenings I've sat waiting for him to come home, to tell me what troubles him. How many times I've gone to bed alone because he'd rather stay in his study and ignore the world. Once, I was naive enough to think that I might one day become his world. That he'd trust me enough to let me see the sides of him that were less than perfect. I did not harbor such sentiments now.
"There must be something I can do," he argues but I've made my decision. It will do none of us any good to dwell on what might have been.
"I'll stay with Lily and James for a few days until I find somewhere to go." It's selfish to bring his best friend into this, but I have nowhere to go and Lily is my best friend. It's only natural to seek her comfort right now. I tell myself it's only for a few days. And it's not as if James won't be able to come over and see Remus. I'd never get in the way of that.
"Please stay." With unsteady legs, I stand up and step to the side to pass Remus still on his knees.
"Please," he whispers so quietly, I almost miss it. If there is something smaller than a quark, I believe that would be equivalent to the size of the broken pieces of my heart lying shattered on the floor. He grips my wrist to keep me from taking another step, but I cannot stay. I cannot destroy myself to make him whole.
"Let go of me, Remus." It comes out as a plea rather than an order, but I cannot bring myself to cause him any more pain than necessary. Fire spreads where his skin touches mine and I curse how weak my body becomes by his touch.
"Don't make me do it myself. Please just let me go." I don't want to have to pry his hand off of me. I can't have that be my last memory with him. After a full minute, he finally lets go of my wrist.
"You are worthy of love, my darling. I'm just not the right person to give it to you." I lean down to press a kiss to his forehead as a final goodbye. The sight of his tear-streaked face will haunt me from this day forward, but I still walk out the door. And he doesn't stop me this time.
#remus lupin x reader#young remus lupin imagine#young remus lupin#remus lupin#lupin hp#hp marauders#marauders era#marauders imagine#hp writing#lupin x reader#harry potter series#harry potter#hp fandom
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WELCOME: BLOG RULES AND IMPORTANT LINKS
◯ REQUESTS: OPEN
◯ YANDERE HARRY POTTER & HETALIA
◯ honestly i have no boundaries aside from keeping requests gender neutral (no fem reader) i'll still accept the request if it says fem reader but i'll keep the darlings gender neutral.
◯ harry potter: only writing for the golden era, if the character was alive during then you can request.
◯ hetalia: no 2P or nyo, and i strongly prefer country darlings.
◯ no explicit nsfw, i only do headcanons, so no one-shots, unless it's a situation where the yandere has to be platonic, i don't specify if it's a platonic or romantic yandere.
◯ bombard me with requests, but keep the number of characters on each request reasonable: if it's a harem, 6 characters are okay, separate, 3 is the most I'll do, but requests will get answered much quicker if there's only 1 character so do what you will with that information.
◯ tagging system: #my headcanons (hetalia works), #hp writings (harry potter works), #yandere hetalia (reblogs), #yandere harry potter (reblogs)
——————————————————————————————
HETALIA MASTERLIST • HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST
requests in the inbox • character list (tba) • old masterpost
#masterpost#masterlist#hetalia masterlist#harry potter masterlist#my headcanons#hp writing#yandere hetalia#yandere harry potter
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(for writing purposes)
#writing polls#tumblr polls#random polls#smut polls#hp writing#fanfiction writing#fic writing#fanfiction#fanfic
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"I know I will be long dead before you read this..."
#letter writing#preparing for a little swim#regulus black#marauders era#regulus fanart#marauders fanart#kreacher#house elf#my art#house of black#slytherin#artists on tumblr#hp fanart#hp#Regulus
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me, reading my own incomplete writing : *gasp* and then what happened?
#someome make me write#or give me writing prompts please!!#hp#marauders#the marauders era#harry potter#gryffindor#wolfstar#hogwarts#remus lupin#sirius black#slytherin#james potter#regulus black#jegulus#drarry#draco malfoy#writing#writer#ao3#fic#fanfiction#fanfic#fanfic author#drabble#prompts
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"If you could switch places with them, would you do it ?" "In a heartbeat" Redraw of this
#harry potter#hp#wolfstar#sirius black#remus lupin#wolfstar dad au's my beloveds#this is my love letter to all fic writes btw
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Height difference
Idk Mattheos actual height but let's imagine he's really tall here ✨ I hope you'll like it 👐
Mattheo is obsessed with the way his body is towering over yours. He has found himself thinking of how you'd perfectly fit in his arms many times and he can't help but feel his whole body getting hot at the very thought. From the very first moment Theodore introduced you to their group, he was instantly besotted. He was entirely mesmerized by you.
Every time you wanted to grab something that was out of your reach, he was standing closely behind you just to help you, but in reality all he wanted was to feel your small frame against his. And when you look up at him all puppy-eyed, with those eyes, he knew he was down bad already. And he knew he had fallen deeply for you.
He loved teasing you cause your reactions to his teasing were absolutely worthwhile. Seeing your flustered face was something he adored.
-
"How you're doing shorty?" He said in his baritone voice and it took everything in you not to punch the smugness off of his face.
"Stop calling me shorty" you tried look mad and scary with your angry expression but Mattheo wanted to just grab your face and kiss the shit out of you.
"Ok then how about...pixie-"
"NO!" You exclaimed and walked away from him, not being able to stay any longer around his presence but one thing you didn't notice, was Mattheo laughing quietly behind you because he found your walk absolutely adorable.
-
When he gets to hug you, that's when he feels like his heart will burst out. It's the way you snuggle your head in his chest, the way your arms are wrapped around his waist, and the warmth that instantly engulfing him when he feels your heart beating against him. Everything about this feeling is perfect. You just fitted perfectly.
-
His most fave thing about your height difference, is when you tip toe every time you want to kiss him. He's just standing there, the corner of his lips curving upwards displaying a cheeky smile on his face as he watches you struggling while you're trying to give him a kiss.
"You know you can lean down a bit right? I can't do all the work here" you frowned as you looked up at him. He pinched you cheek softly and traced his thumb in soft circles there.
"Yeah but you have no idea how adorable you l- ouch!" You slapped his hand.
"Now, don't make me bend your head down here by force"
"I would gladly let you love" he chuckled and you smirked as you placed your forehead on your palm, sighing.
"Enough with the teasing Riddle, now kiss me" you looked up again, waiting for his lips to finally crush on yours. He felt his heart pounding like crazy against his chest.
He laughed and instead of leaning his head down, he crouched down and scooped you up into his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist and he placed one hand under your thigh and the other around your waist. Kissing you was earth-shattering. The fieeling of your soft lips locking with his, was something he has been craving for so long.
Once you pulled away, you expected him to put you down but he still held you tight against him.
"Will you put me down now?" You tried to fight back a smile as you felt his hold becoming a bit tighter, his locked on you the whole time.
"Nope, I love having you like this love" he murmured against your lips and you giggled as you once again captured your lips together in a kiss which caused your eyes to flutter close and enjoy the feeling.
Thank you for reading!!
#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo x reader#mattheo x you#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x you#riddle x reader#mattheo x y/n#matt x reader#matt riddle#hp x you#hp x reader#hp imagine#hp fanfic#mattheo riddle fanfic#mattheo riddle fluff#mattheo riddle oneshot#mattheoxreader#hp fandom#harry potter x you#character x reader#slytherin x reader#slytherin boys#slytherin#slytherpuff#slytherclaw#slytherdor#imagine#my writing
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— chapter 7, goblet of fire
i felt the strongest urge to draw this endearing scene :’)
#harry potter and the goblet of fire#harry potter#hermione granger#ron weasley#golden trio#the golden trio#harry potter fanart#hp fanart#it’s such a bizarre experience seeing glimpses of jkr’s gender politics in her old writing#my art#illustration#artists on tumblr#character design#i love these kids so bad#they’re such 14 year olds i love them#i too remember being 14 once
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“train” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 336 words
James has his arms around Regulus’ waist and he’s slowly kissing his cheeks, his forehead, his lips, his nose.
“James.”
“Yes, love?”
More kisses.
“James.” Regulus says with a small laugh.
“Mmm hmm?” James doesn’t stop his kisses.
“James, I have to go, or the train will leave without me.” Regulus says, but makes no attempt to pull away.
“Good.”
“James.”
“Don’t go. I’m going to miss you too much.” James pouts.
“You want me to skip my last year because you’re going to miss me too much?” Regulus asks.
“Yes. I’m glad we’re finally on the same page.” James goes back to his kisses.
“James.” Regulus says one last time. James sighs and stops his kissing but doesn’t let go of Regulus’ waist. “We’re going to write all the time. I’m going to see you in Hogsmeade in two months. You’re going to come to all my matches–”
“I know. But it’s not the same.” James says in a sincere tone as he tucks a curl behind Regulus’ ear.
“I know. But it’s not going to be the same for me either. Without you there. In that big castle. So cold and drafty, and no one to keep me warm.” Regulus smirks.
“What are you doing to me?” James groans and drops his forehead on Regulus’ and Regulus chuckles.
“It’s not that long and it’s going to fly by.” Regulus tells him.
“Okay.” James says softly and loosens his grip. “I love you.” James leans down and kisses Regulus.
“I love you, too.” Regulus whispers.
Regulus turns and walks towards the train but just before he steps on, he turns and runs back to James, practically jumping into his arms. He wraps his arms around James’ neck and pulls him in for a more passionate kiss.
“And I’m going to miss you so much.” Regulus says against his lips, and he can feel James smiling.
“I’m going to miss you, too.” James tells him and kisses him one more time. “Now, go or the train will leave without you.”
#regulus writes him that night#asking him to sneak into the castle#the next weekend#because he already misses him too much#thank merlin for the cloak and the map#idiots in love#regulus loves james#james loves regulus#jegulus#jegulus microfic#jegulus fanfiction#marauders fanfiction#regulus black#james potter#marauders#james x regulus#regulus x james#marauders era#harry potter marauders#harry potter#hp#hp marauders#dead gay wizards from the 70s#dead gay wizards#starchaser#sunseeker#jeggyverse microfic
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27. kisses for cover at a party with poly!rosekiller. reader goes to evan to get a guy off you, he makes out with you, barty sees and is like "yay i wanna join" and then just devours you
ahhh i love them! poly!rosekiller x fem!reader, college!au ✩ 900 words
You slip beneath the handsome guy at the pub with practiced ease, dipping under his outstretched arm in an attempt to shake your unwelcome admirer of the evening.
To his credit, he doesn't flinch but rather curls his arm round the nape of your neck, tucking you into his shoulder in one fluid movement until you're mostly obscured. He dips his head low enough to murmur in your ear; his voice is like smooth, dark honey.
"Who you hiding from, lovely?"
"This bloke's been following me round all night," you admit, voice high and breathy. "He's still looking, I think. Will you- will you pretend to know me until he goes away?"
He grins and the sight almost blinds you; crinkled eyes and a soft smattering of freckles across his high cheekbones. Miles and miles of brown skin and a curly blonde mop that sits high on his head.
He really is lovely.
And if you'd met him under different circumstances, you'd be nervous for an entirely different reason.
"Consider it done, okay? No need to fret."
He tips his head lower until his nose brushes yours. You hold your breath in anticipation.
"Let's give the prick a show, yeah?"
Your insides flush white-hot as you wait for his lips to make contact. It's a languid sort of kiss, building in intensity as your mystery man flattens his tongue against your bottom lip. He palms at your neck, angling your face upward until you have no choice but to part your lips and let him lick into your mouth, soft and slow and deep.
You push up on your toes - encouraging him closer - and you feel the corners of his mouth tip up even as he indulges your wordless request.
The kiss ebbs and he pulls back. You bite your lip and try to pretend that he didn't just give you the best kiss of your life.
"I'm sorry," you say, cadence twinged with embarrassment. "I don't even know your name."
He smooths the pad of his thumb over your pencil lined eye and smiles, unperturbed. His expression is softer this time, something akin to fondness lingering in his eyes.
"Evan," he murmurs. "And you?"
"Y/N."
A weight settles at your back and you go rigid, pushing back into Evan's space with a startled gasp.
"It's okay, lovely girl," he placates with ease, as though he's known you for much longer than a few minutes. "This is Barty."
This boy is taller – sharper round the edges than Evan, but no less beautiful. His face is shrouded by thick, dark hair that contrasts so heavily with his pale skin it almost looks unnatural.
"Hi, pretty," he coos. "Oh, she is gorgeous, Ev. The gorgeous ones always love you."
"Hi," you almost whisper. You're suddenly even shyer under Barty's fervent gaze, red-hot at his rapt attention.
He folds at the waist and twirls one of your loose curls between his fingers. From here you can smell his breath, mint and vodka and something sweeter that lingers on the tip of his tongue.
He steps closer, right into your space until you're sandwiched snugly between the two of them.
"Do I get a kiss?" he asks, borderline pleading. Intense, for a man you've just met.
Your throat works around a thick swallow and you look down at your feet, suddenly overwhelmingly shy.
"Um..."
"Don't be jealous, babe," Evan placates, a lithe hand massaging teeny circles into your shoulder.
"I find a pretty little thing snogging my boyfriend and I'm supposed to not be jealous?"
You balk. Your eyes gloss over, and wet and wide and painfully apologetic.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't know. I'm really sorry."
"Shh." Evan loops an arm round your waist and tugs you neatly into his side. "He's teasing. He just wants a kiss, too, if you're willing to give it."
You can't deny that Barty is beautiful – all long, milky limbs and dark features. You nod tentatively.
"Okay."
Evan plants his chin in the juncture of your neck as Barty leans in, long fingers roaming the expanse of your waist with a fervour you've never felt before. Your stomach flips.
Barty's kiss is far more fervid. All tongues and clashing teeth as he angles his head to get more of your mouth on his– as though he wants to eat you whole.
You whine into his mouth when his hand settles on the dip of your spine and presses down, forcing you to arch up into him. There's not a part of you that isn't being touched in some way.
Especially not when Evan trails his lips along your pulse point and begins diligently sucking a bruise under your jaw.
Barty gets you by the nape of your neck and probes his tongue further into your mouth. He's persistent, flicking his tongue behind your front teeth until you gasp and open your mouth wider to grant him more access.
"There's a good girl," Evan says, voice rumbling against your back.
The trail of spit that stretches and bows between the two of you when Barty pulls back to get a good look at you has you feeling faint.
"Can we keep her, Ev?" Barty nuzzles his nose against the soft swell of your cheek.
"What do you say, angel? Can we keep you?"
You're too dazed to answer with more than a nod, curling your own arms around Barty's waist to keep him pressed against you.
#evan rosier x reader#evan rosier x barty crouch jr#rosekiller x reader#rosekiller#barty crouch jr fanfiction#barty crouch jr x reader#barty crouch jr headcanons#writers on tumblr#writer#writing#writing for fun#barty crouch x reader#barty crouch x evan rosier#marauders era#marauders fanfiction#marauders fic#harry potter marauders#harry potter fanfiction#barty crouch jr fluff#evan rosier fanfic#harry potter au#harry potter fluff#fanfic#fanfiction#hp x reader#hp fanfic#marauders x reader
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Feel You Deep
NSFW. MDNI.
WARNINGS: Smut, piv, overstimulation, dom Theo, sub reader, praising, dumbification, a bit of subspace, begging, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, use of the name daddy (not always), breeding kink, size kink?, a tiny bit of aftercare.
Let me know if I missed any, please!
SMUT UNDER THE CUT!
Theo's tip was teasing your clit. You needed him inside you after hours of edging, eating your cunt like a starved man, never letting you feel the true orgasm.
-"You wanna feel me inside you, sweetheart? Just a bit more, I promise, and you'll have my cock deep inside your pussy."
Theo said making you moan and whimper at the dirty talk.
-"Please Theo, please. i.. I need you. I need to feel you please please"
Theo smirked as you begged, watching your arousal mixed with his saliva spilling out of your little cunt.
-"I don't think it will fit, love. What do you think? Can this little pussy take my big cock? Hm?"
Theo said teasingly, making your cunt clench around nothing, feeling even more frustrated.
-"It will! I know it will! I'll take it like a good girl, please, please, I need to feel y... OH!"
You moaned when Theo pushed the tip inside you, your walls stretching and pulsating with desire. Theo looked at you with dark eyes, filled with lust.
-"You wanna come, sweetheart? There's not going back, yeah? I'm sure you'll take it all like a good girl."
Theo slowly pushed his cock all the way, your walls swallowing and almost suffocating him. He was completely inside you, feeling him everywhere. His tip was brushing your cervix, making you cry out in pleasure, but he let you adjust.
-"Look at that, pretty. Look at how good you're taking me, such a good girl. Fuck... Such a tight little pussy, so perfect around me."
At a slow peace, Theo started thrusting inside you deeply, making you moan his name over and over again. Your cunt was aching to be filled to the brim, just like now. Theo groaned, kissing your neck.
-"S.. so big. Oh my god! That feels so good T... THEO!"
You moaned loudly when the tip of Theo's cock hit that little spongy spot that makes your pussy clench and scream. Surely, the neighbours already know what's happening.
Theo's thrusting speeded, always hitting that spot, making you see blurry and tear up, it felt so good. Your moans were high, Theo hardening even more while hearing your desperate screams and praising you.
-"You like that, huh? Feels good, honey? Let me take care of you, yeah? I'll make you feel good, fill you with my babies, yeah? Good fucking girl"
Theo was kissing your neck, thrusting into you and sneaking his hand between you two to rub your clit, it was so overwhelming. Your walls clenched even more, indicating that you were close.
-"T... Theo, I'm close, please please please let me cum. Please"
-"Go ahead pretty girl, make a mess on my cock. Milk me, yeah? I've got you, so pretty when you make those noises and tighten around me."
And with that you came around Theo's dick, while his hand was still circling your clit. He rode out your orgasm, but didn't stop. He kept thrusting into you, and dirty talking. You knew that Theo had high stamina, but you hoped that he was close.
-"S'too much! Feels good!"
-"I know beautiful, I know, you did so well, but you can take more. Take daddy's cock like a good girl, yeah? You can."
Theo was thrusting even faster now, but it was difficult for him, your walls were the tightest they've ever been, making it hard to pull out.
-"Sweetheart, I need you to relax for me. I promise it'll feel good, c'mon, you can do it. Let daddy push all the way in. Oh, look at that, do you feel me in your stomach, angel?"
Theo said while looking at the bulge that appeared in your belly when he thrusted. He presses down on it, getting you to your high even faster, his cock hitting your cervix.
-"I'm so deep inside you, baby. Want me to breed you like my own little slut? Fucking hell, you feel like heaven, my girl."
Theo's praise brought you to your second orgasm, triggering his first one. You were shaking, but Theo didn't stop. He was breeding you like he owned you, and his thrusting didn't slow down, in fact, he went harder.
-"Theo! I can't take it, please, no more, no more... P... PLEASE!"
Theo didn't stop, he wanted to see you break one last time. He wanted to see you convulse underneath him, he wanted to feel you spasm around his cock. His mind was filled with absolute lust.
-"Pretty girl, weren't you the one begging for my cock before? I know you can take one more, honey. For me, yeah?"
You started scratching Theo's back while he rubbed circles on your bundle of nerves and left hickeys all over you. It was too much, you were completely in subspace, not even thinking. He was fucking you dumb.
-"You look so beautiful when you moan like that, does my cock filling you up and stretching you feel good? I bet it does, you're clenching so tight 'round me. Oh fuck... If you keep doing that I'll come again, sweetheart. So pretty for me, only for me, yeah? Let me feel you cum around my cock one last time."
That was it. You came. Hard. Your thighs started shaking, your back arching and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. The sight in front of Theo was mesmerising, making him come inside you again.
-"Fuck, look so pretty like this, honey, yeah, take it, I'm filling you up like a good girl, so filthy with my babies."
Theo pulled out of you, feeling exhausted. He was lying on top of you, both breathing heavily. You couldn't move your legs, they felt sore and all of your body was sweaty.
-"You did so good sweetheart, wanna take a bath? Yeah, let me help you."
Theo carried you to the bathroom and cleaned you up while praising you. When he was done he dressed you up and himself and cuddles in the bed.
-"I love you so much, my perfect princess."- Theo said while kissing your forehead.
-"Love you too, Theo."- You sleepily said and slowly drifted off to a deep sleep.
1036 words.
SORRY IF I MADE ANY GRAMMAR OR MISTAKE IN GENERAL, ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!! :)
-MsVanillaLatte
#harry potter#theo nott#theodore nott#theo nott smut#theodore nott smut#theo nott x reader#theodore nott x reader#smut#fanfic#oneshot#writing#fluff#fiction#hp#hp fandom#slytherin
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Lily Evans is not just a wife or a mother. Repeat after me, Lily Evans is not just a wife or a mother. Motherhood and marriage are not the only things she's capable of. We're better than the terf that wrote her.
#i always try to only write Evans and not Potter cus let's be honest anyone marrying her would change their own last name#lily evans#feminism#harry potter#dead gay wizards#james potter#marauders era#dead gay witches#marylily#narlily#dorlily#pandalily#regulily#bartylily#jegulily#lily evans meta#fuck jkr#fanon#hp marauders#the marauders era#marauder era#marauders
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office hours — professor!soobin x gradstudent!reader
cw. chubby!reader, reader is an adult grad student, minimal age gap, clear consent, petnames (babe, baby, honey, darling, good boy), mommy kink, face sitting, unprotected penetration, creampie, cunnilingus, handjobs, ending is cheesy, "epilogue" of sorts involves christmas vibes, kissing, please lmk if i'm missing anything. NSFW/MDNI notes. i would feel irresponsible if i didn't acknowledge this is a romanticized portrayal of a professor-student relationship. while the relationship in this story has clear consent multiple times, irl relationships like this can be inappropriate and exploitative bc of the authority imbalance. you deserve a healthy, consensual relationship. prioritize ur well-being and autonomy. relationships should be built on mutual respect, equality and clear consent. this is a work of fiction and should be read as such. shoutout to @silvergyus for sending the prof!soob pic <3 wc. 11.6k
“Which brings us to Le Chatelier's Principle in real-world chemical reactions,” Professor Choi says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “This will be review for most of you, so I won’t go into too much detail.”
Chemistry is your favorite thing in the world. It’s real-life magic. And Professor Choi sees it that way too. His olive green chinos are wrinkled from walking from his office. The sleeves of his white button-down are pushed up so he can write freely on the whiteboard while his burgundy tie sways with his scurries.
Sparks of passion fill his eyes as he lectures. And he never disappoints with his cheesy jokes. Although you seem to be the only one that laughs at them—maybe you’re the only one that gets them. Not many students in his class are the experts in chemistry you are. You took it as a break from your intense course load and the elective credits are a nice bonus.
Most of your professors are so old they barely know how to turn on their laptop and are so deep into their tenure they’ve given up. If you bothered showing up to their office hours, you’d be lucky to find a professor, let alone a helpful one. So you’ve become a frequent visitor in Professor Choi’s office hours, talking about advanced chemistry he can’t wait to teach but it’ll be at least five years before he can. In the meantime, he’ll settle for nerding out with you in his office for a few hours every week.
“Great class today, everyone,” he says. “Have a great weekend and don’t hesitate to visit me during my office hours with any questions!” That sentence started out as a normal speaking voice but ended up a shout over the shuffling of the desk chairs and backpacks. You’re typically the last one out, but you save your questions for his office hours tomorrow.
-
“Hi,” you say, lightly tapping your knuckle against his office door.
Turning around in his chair, his lips form a pout in surprise at seeing you. “Were you waiting outside? Sorry that meeting ran a little long—” He shuffles to organize his desk.
“That’s okay.” Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, he rests his hands on his thighs and looks up at you. Did he just look you up and down? Don’t be ridiculous.
“What can I do ya for?”
“Right,” you start. “Can I…?” You ask, motioning toward the spare chair, waiting for his nod before sitting. “You know Professor Vaughn’s class?” You barely catch it, but his eyes roll. Professor Vaughn is the worst professor you’ve had. Boring, harsh, impatient. It doesn’t help he teaches one of the most complex forms of chemistry. “I’m not really getting this week’s content and was wondering if you could help me.”
“Of course.” He smiles. And it’s devastating. The sparkle in his eyes and those dimples. Craning his neck to look at your notes riddled with red question marks, he nods. As soon as he sees the title of your notes, he says, “Let’s think about this from a quantum mechanical perspective. If we assume that the π-complex is forming, we’re talking about a stabilization due to delocalization π-electrons, right?”
In what feels like no time at all, an hour has passed and the conversation has been the complete opposite of Professor Vaughn’s lectures. Questions led down rabbit holes, leading to other theorems and more questions. As he glances up at you through his glasses, there is an undeniable tingle in your stomach.
It’s not like you haven’t noticed how attractive Professor Choi is. He’s tall, lean but undeniably strong, he has the most perfect silky black hair and the prettiest brown eyes, and his pout—indescribably cute. And again—those goddamn dimples. He’s the perfect mixture of sexy, handsome, and pretty. You’d never think of doing anything with a professor, but you can’t help your mind wanders during the slower lectures.
How long have you been staring at each other in silence? Too long probably. He clears his throat. “Well,” he says, looking at his watch. “My office hours have been over for a few—”
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” you say, stumbling as you stand, attempting to gather your things as quickly as possible. But he shakes his head, trying to shrug it off.
“That’s okay,” he says. “I, uh, I just have my emails waiting for me.”
You nod, shoving everything into your bag and heading out the door. What was that? You’re probably overreacting, you think to yourself. He’s charming because of his looks, there’s no way he’d— No. Don’t even finish that thought.
-
"How is it that someone who scored the highest in my theoretical chemistry exam is turning basic lab work into a spectacle of incompetence?" Professor Vaughn boasts over your right shoulder. No doubt his thick eyebrows are furrowed.
As your hands tighten around the test tube, you know exactly what to do—you always do—but everything slips through your fingers in his class.
"I’m trying to get the reaction to stabilize," you stammer, eyes darting between your hands, the chemical reagents lined up on the table, and your notebook.
Professor Vaugn’s expression hardens as he steps closer, looking down his nose at your station. "Trying is for high school sophomores. If you’re still trying, you’re behind."
Taking a deep breath, you carefully add three more drops to the mixture but the reaction goes wrong. Again. A plume of white smoke rises from the beaker, and the liquid turns an unexpected, muddy brown.
"Unbelievable," Vaughn mutters loud enough for everyone to hear. Everyone knows you’re the best student in your class. Well, everyone except Soren, who’s so jealous of your intelligence they can hardly stand it. They simply smirk. "I expected more from you."
Your heart sinks. You checked those calculations three times. Maybe it’s your shaky hands. Or the pressure of him looming over your shoulder. Or the other stuff on your mind.
"Are you going to sit there and guess again, or would you like to double down on failure with your next attempt?" Vaughn sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I’m not guessing, Professor. I—"
"Can’t manage a basic reaction?" Vaughn interrupts with his icy voice. "I’m beginning to wonder how you even made it into this program."
"I’m perfectly capable. The solution is just—"
"Wrong. Yes, we’ve established that." Vaughn’s lips curl into a patronizing sneer. "Maybe chemistry isn’t the field for you if this is the best you can manage." That got everyone’s attention—it would be an interesting sight to see you fail. It so rarely happens. Sure, you’ve been doubted before but have always proven yourself. Today would be no different.
You take a deep breath and count to yourself, One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
As you block out Vaughn’s piercing gaze and the weight of the other students’ eyes, you carefully remeasure the chemical, adjusting the proportions this time, methodically double-checking your work. You add the reagent once more, slowly, and watch as the solution begins to shift.
A moment passes. The reaction stabilizes and the solution turns a clear, pale blue.
"Finally," Vaughn mutters. You don’t even have to look at him to know he rolled his eyes. He turns to walk away but pauses. "Barely acceptable. Next time, you won’t be given the luxury of so many failures."
-
Bursting through the door upon dismissal, you can’t get to the restroom fast enough, barely making it to a stall before tears stream down your cheeks.
“One. Two. Three. Four. Five,” you whisper to yourself.
Sometimes, chemical reactions need to be dealt with instantly, but that’s an overwhelming amount of pressure. You give yourself five seconds before you absolutely have to deal with it. Same thing here. Cry. Count to five. Wipe your tears and move on.
But it’s difficult to move on this time. You’ve counted to five a few too many times today. But the only person you want to talk about it with is—
Professor Choi, Are you available to meet me in Lab 270 tomorrow afternoon? I’ve been struggling with some reactions and could use some help. I’ll be there from 2:00—4:00. If not, no worries!
Sniffling, you hit send on your email app, shove your phone in your bag and head home.
The next day drags on and on. Did he even get your message? Expecting an empty lab, you’re surprised to find Professor Choi waiting for you behind a laptop wearing a cute tweed jacket with suede elbow patches. His eyebrows are furrowed as his focused eyes study the computer, but they brighten at the sight of you.
Initially surprised by your confusion, he squeezes his eyes shut and says, “I didn’t respond to your email, did I?” He’s already got the lab station set up. How long has he been waiting on you? “So, how’s Professor Vaughn’s class?” Did someone tell him about yesterday? God, you hope not.
“Fine,” you deadpan. Shaking your head, you say, “I’m sorry…I’m just kinda stressed.”
“I can go if you need some time by—”
“No,” you say, softening your tone. “I’d really appreciate your help.”
And he’s more than willing, letting you ask whatever you want, never interrupting or talking over you like most of the men in the program. He gives you space to explore ideas and theories, listening closely instead of answering everything for you.
And he’s so damn sexy when he’s the one doing the ranting. The way he talks with his hands, ones that are so big with fingers so long you wish he would wrap around your—
“Shut up.”
“Excuse me?” He asks.
Oh shit, did you say that out loud? What a fucking nightmare. “Uh, sorry, just…talking to myself. Too many thoughts racing around the ole dome.”
A slight pout forms on his lips as he continues his rant. Now, the only thing you can think of are his lips wrapped around your—
“Ah!” Your hand slips toward the Bunsen burner and, great, now you’ve got a nice burn on your thumb.
“Oh gosh, are you okay?” He stands quickly. “Let me see.” His fingers graze your palm, igniting a fiercer burn than the actual flame just did. “Run it under cold water, okay?”
In the meantime, he straightens up your station before meeting you at the sink. “Is something wrong?” His words make you jump. “You seem distracted.”
That’s all it takes. The floodgates open. You rant about the sexist piece of shit Professor Vaughn and his power moves to intimidate you when he knows you’re the best student in the program. About how embarrassed you were in lab yesterday. Last semester when you raised your hand to correct an equation on the board and he gave you a firm talking to about respect after class.
He watches you carefully, handing over a towel for your hands as you take a steadying breath, fighting back tears.
“Did I ever tell you why I started studying chemistry?” he asks. You sniffle, shaking your head. “My grandfather. He was a baker.” His voice softens, and you look up to find his eyes full of kindness. “Every Saturday, he’d make me work in his bakery. I didn’t mind—it felt like magic, you know? But really, it’s science. It’s all precision, measurements, timing.”
A smile tugs at his lips. “Once, I tried baking a cake for my mom’s birthday, followed his recipe exactly. Measured the flour, the sugar, the cocoa. When I pulled it out of the oven, it was hard. Flat. I was sure he’d be disappointed, calling it a waste of time and ingredients. I was terrified. But he looked at it, smiled, and told me to try again the next day. When I asked why it didn’t work, he said I needed to ‘feel my way through it.’”
You sit there, the sting from your burn now fading, but your heart’s still aching, wanting something from him—a hug, a kiss, even just a pat on the shoulder.
“If I’d gotten it right the first time, I’d never know what overmixed batter looks like. Or that I like more cocoa than he did. Or that you should coat berries in flour.” His smile creeps up to his eyes. “Seeing how failure could make you better—it made me curious. I wanted to understand why some things worked and others didn’t, why I needed to feel my way through it, to get into the details.” He makes eye contact with you again. “That’s why I went into chemistry. Baking taught me the magic is in the little things—if you’re willing to screw up and keep going.”
Nodding, you smile back. His words hang in the air for a moment, like they’re meant to settle, but something’s missing.
“All I’m saying is, its okay to fuck things up, okay?” he says, his candidness drawing a chuckle from you. “How else would you learn?”
-
The world’s drained of color—only hazy shades of grey and beige are left. Your palms press against a cold marble countertop with the faint sound of running water echoing in the distance. The reflection of the mirror looks like you, but not quite. The woman in the mirror has her lips painted a dark, sultry brown, a shade you’d never choose. And the outfit is far too dressy for a lecture. Shadows fall where there shouldn’t be any.
The hallways are unfamiliar, yet you know it's the same building you visit almost every day. It's blurry, like you’re walking through a memory that isn’t yours.
You look down at the saddle shoes on your feet clicking against the tile floor, unnervingly filling the emptiness. It feels like someone else is controlling your body but you don’t question it. You can’t. Your hand raises, knuckles brushing a wooden door before it creaks open on its own.
On the other side of the door, Professor Choi faces a green chalkboard. Has that always been in his office? Hurriedly scribbling down equations, he glances between the board and the notebook in his hand. When he looks over his shoulder at you, his eyes soften and a slow smile spreads across his face. “Come in,” he says gently, setting his notebook aside. His voice wraps around you, making the room feel smaller, closer. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Your spine tingles. “I know,” you reply, but the words sound hollow, like you’re speaking from somewhere else.
“Here,” he suggests, holding a piece of chalk out to you. The way he gestures toward the board is magnetic. As you take it from his hand, your fingers brush his. “What do you think of this?” An unfinished equation waits to be solved. His presence looms behind you, close but not quite touching as you reach up to solve it. Your heart pounds, every stroke of the chalk on the board heavier than it should.
“Impressive,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough around the edges. You turn to face him and he’s closer than expected, his warmth radiating against your skin. The air is thick with something unspoken. You step closer, tentative at first, then quicker, more certain. Your lips almost brush his, but he pulls back, his breath catching.
He looks down, your name a whisper on his lips, soft and pained. “I—” His eyes flicker up to meet yours, then fall back down like the weight of your gaze is too much.
“What?” You ask, your voice barely more than a breath. Your eyes dart between his, lingering on his tempting mouth. He leans in again with desire in his eyes. He wants to kiss you. You can feel it. And for a moment you think he might.
But he pulls away, his forehead nearly resting against yours. “I don’t think we should be doing this,” he says, his voice strained, as if saying the words is physically painful for him.
“Why not?” The question slips from your lips before you can stop it, frustration and longing lacing your tone.
His hands flex at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to touch you. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to, or—”
“Why would I feel like that?” you interrupt, your voice impatient. Your heart races, pounding in your ears, drowning out reason.
“I’m your professor,” he breathes out like it’s a curse. His words only fan the flames of the tension building between you. There’s nothing wrong with that, you think to yourself. It’s not like you’re fresh out of high school—you’re a grad student, close to starting the same PhD he earned barely three years ago. He’s no more than five years older.
“I don’t care,” you insist, stepping even closer, your lips a breath away from his. “I want you to kiss me.”
His eyes darken, his resolve faltering as his gaze drops to your lips. “It’s a mistake,” he whispers, but his voice trembles with indecision, trying to convince himself more than you.
“Make the mistake,” you urge, your voice soft but sure. Your hand reaches for his tie, tugging as light as you can just to bring him that much closer. “You said it yourself, it’s okay to fuck things up.”
There’s a beat of silence, so thick it feels as though the room itself is holding its breath, waiting. And in that moment, the space between you seems to collapse, the weight of everything unsaid pulling you closer.
The millisecond before your lips touch, you breathe awake.
You bolt straight up, feeling around your soft bed sheets, breathless as your heart pounds from the vividness of it all. For a moment, you linger in the feeling, brushing your fingers over your lips, feeling the warmth of the almost kiss. But reality sinks in and your stomach drops.
Reaching for your phone, you check the time. Great, it’s almost time for his class. But there’s no hazy world to hide in. Skipping class might be an option but an exam reminder drags you out of bed.
-
Trudging across campus, your stomach sinks lower with each step. How can you look him in the eye? Dropping your bag to the floor with a thud, you hang your head low. Let’s just get through this exam and get outta here.
“How’s your hand?” Professor Choi’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding his hands up. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Looking at you like you’re the cutest puppy he’s ever seen, you can’t bring yourself to speak, but you hold out your hand. The second his fingertips touch yours, you flinch and jerk it back.
“Um—” you start. “Better, thanks.” Turning away from him, you distract yourself with a random notebook from your bag.
“...You okay? You shouldn’t be nervous about the exam.” When you look up, you’re met with eyes that appear…hurt?
“No, it’s not that.” That’s not a good answer. “Just…” What would you even say? I had an incredibly vivid—and delicious—dream about you last night and now I need to know how your lips feel in real life? “Cramps.”
“Ah.” He nods and leaves you alone, awkwardly walking to the front of the class to make some announcements and general good wishes before the exam. With your fist pressed to your chin, you refuse to look up, hanging your head low even as he slides you your copy.
There’s a bright green post-it stuck to it with a note, It’s okay to fuck it up! Your heart races as your eyes dart around searching for him. When you find him, he gives you a soft smile. You return the smile but rush to unstick it before anyone sees, storing it in your notebook for safe keeping.
-
As you return to your apartment, the post-it stares back at you like you’re the guiltiest son-of-a-bitch in the world. It’s practically calling you a whore. And you can hardly take it anymore. You can’t bring yourself to face him for class a few days later—although skipping feels like a cardinal sin. Soon enough, though, your email dings.
From: Choi Soobin, PhD I noticed you were absent from class today. I hope everything’s okay. The lecture notes are attached for your reference. Feel free to stop by my office hours with any questions. Professor Choi
Did your heart just flutter? Why are you walking toward his office? When you knock on the door, he stands—more like stumbles—to greet you, “Hi!”
“Hi, Professor Choi…” You linger in the doorway, clutching your notebook tight to your chest. “Sorry I missed class—”
“Is everything alright?”
“Yeah—”
“You’re not overwhelmed with coursework, are you?” His eyes search yours, and there’s a softness in his voice that makes it hard to look away.
“No, no, I’m alright. I just…had a migraine this morning,” you say, shrugging slightly. “It’s gone now, though.”
He nods, easing into a warm smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” His gaze doesn’t waver and the intensity makes your pulse quicken. “So, I’m guessing you’re here to go over questions from the lecture?”
“Actually, it’s Professor Vaughn’s class I’m struggling with. His lecture today was…brutal.”
“I’m shocked,” he says sarcastically. “The man’s got a gift for making simple concepts sound like Greek.”
“Exactly,” you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing. “I thought it was me, but he seems to take pride in making everything harder than it needs to be.”
“Trust me, it’s not you,” he says, a glint of warmth in his eyes. “He’s terrible. And annoying. And boring. And I’d tell him that.”
You raise a brow, skeptical. “You wouldn’t.”
“Well…” He breaks into a grin. “Maybe after I reach tenure. Though he may be retired by then.”
“Or dead,” you say matter-of-factly. He looks at you awkwardly then you both laugh, genuinely. There’s an ease to it.
He gestures to your notebook. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
-
“I can’t believe I’m laughing at that,” you say, a giggle escaping your lips.
“You always laugh at my bad jokes,” he replies, staring at your face a little too longingly. If you were anyone else, he might find some excuse to touch you. Maybe brush a piece of lint off your shoulder, lightly touch your arm while he laughed at something you said, or something as casual as a fist bump.
If he were any other guy, you’d be much more obvious, making it crystal clear you want him to kiss you right now. But you can’t. You don’t even know how he thinks about you. You’re probably just another student to him.
“Well, those are all my questions,” you say, awkwardly packing your bag.
“Yeah, you can, uh…head out…” he trails off as you start to rise from your seat.
You’re searching for something to say, something to let you stay just a little longer. But nothing comes. He watches you walk toward the door, the silence hanging in the space between you.
“Pens!” His voice suddenly burst out, loud enough to make you stop mid-step. “They, uh—I went to a conference last week and they gave me a ton,” he says, scrambling to gather a handful from his desk.
You take them, your fingers brushing against his in a way that feels far too intimate. His eyes lock with yours, the touch sending a ripple of tension through you. “But you’re, uh…picky about your pens, aren’t you?” He asks, his voice softer now, almost unsure.
Laughing quietly, you say, “Yeah, but…that’s okay.” Your words are heavy with subtext you can’t bring yourself to say out loud. “Well, goodbye.” You offer him a smile, stepping back toward the door. “Thanks again.”
“Yeah. Goodbye,” he says, but his feet shuffle forward as if he’s moving without thinking. Awkwardly reaching for a handshake, he realizes your hands are occupied. Instead, he reaches around you for the door handle, but he gets a tad too close and your brain scrambles.
Before you can hold yourself back, you drop the pens, letting them clatter to the floor as your arms wrap around his neck. Your lips meet his in a rush, warm and soft. While your eyes close to savor the feeling, his widen in shock before he relaxes into your touch and wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer.
It’s everything you’ve been holding back—unspoken feelings unraveling in a heartbeat. His lips move against yours with a hunger that surprises you, the world melting away as you lose yourself in the moment. You feel weightless, your pulse racing as his hands grip your waist a little tighter, as though he’s afraid to let you go.
When you finally break apart, breathless and dazed, he presses his forehead to yours, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re never gonna use those pens, are you?” he asks, his voice low and rough, like he’s trying to anchor himself in humor, trying to bring himself back down to earth.
You laugh, shaking your head. “No,” you admit, your heart still pounding. “They’re garbage.”
Before you can think, you kiss him again and this time, he doesn’t hesitate. His mouth crashes into yours with an urgency, like he’s wanted to kiss you since the second he laid eyes on you. His lips are soft, but his kiss is demanding, making up for all the lost moments between you. For those few minutes, nothing else matters—you bask in one of the greatest kisses either of you have ever had. But not for long.
Reality catches up too quickly. You pull away suddenly, breathless and wide-eyed. “Oh my god—” you gasp, backing up, your fingers graze your lips trying to make sense of what just happened. “I’m so sorry—”
“No,” he interrupts quickly, shaking his head. “Don’t be. I—” He’s stumbling through his words, just as lost as you are but neither of you regret it. “I wanted—”
“That was…” You can’t even finish your sentence. It was everything. Too much, too fast, too real. But you can’t take it back.
“I—” He’s trying to find the right words, to reassure you, to tell you he felt it too, that he wanted it just as badly. But he’s as flustered as you are, his voice rough and unsure.
“I’ll just…go throw myself off a bridge now,” you mumble. You can’t even look at him as you make a beeline for the door, your face burning with embarrassment. You think you hear him say something, but the blood rushing in your ears drowns it out.
You leave the room quickly, your heart about to burst through your chest, trying to process what just happened. The kiss lingers on your lips, a mix of exhilaration and terror swirling inside you. It’s too much to handle.
But, hey, there’s one bit of good news. At least he kissed you back.
-
What the fuck are you supposed to do now? Drop his class? It’s too late in the semester for that. And you need those credits. Wait until the end of the semester to talk to him again? Can you go that long without his lips on yours again?
Back at your apartment, you rummage through your books to find the university’s code of conduct, hurriedly searching for anything related to “appropriate relationships,” “faculty-student relationships,” “consensual,” blah blah blah, whatever the university has coded sleeping with a professor.
The University strongly urges those individuals in positions of authority not to engage in conduct of an amorous or sexual nature with a person they are, or are likely in the future to be, in a position of evaluating.
Your eyes read over the words, “strongly urges” once more. Not totally against the rules, you suppose. Even if you did wait until the semester was over, you’d need to report it. You wish you could talk with him about it, but bringing this up is tricky. Is it moving too fast? You can’t text him, you don’t have his number. And using your student email to send a message to his faculty email that says, “Oh, by the way, I checked the rules and we’re in the clear to have sex!” is a terrible idea.
Maybe one kiss in his office doesn’t mean anything. Oh, but it was everything.
-
After much deliberation, you convince yourself to attend his class a few days later. You’ve brought the code of conduct along, as well as a bright pink post-it sticking out of the book. To avoid any form of small talk with him, you wait outside right until the start of class.
Along the way to your desk, you silently plop the code of conduct on his desk and scurry away. When you work up the courage to look up at him, he’s flipped to the marked page. Highlighted on the page is the paragraph that “strongly urges” people in positions of authority not to sleep with students.
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. The message couldn’t be clearer, he thought. You’re practically telling him to leave you alone. But when he finally reads the post-it, his heart flutters. Written in your handwriting, it says, It’s okay to fuck it up! complete with a smiley face.
As much as he tries to fight it, he glances up at you to catch your gaze. And just as the slightest smile appears on his face, a big one appears on yours. You hide it with your palm as you start at the blank page of your notebook. Blinking, he shakes his head and begins his lecture. But how can you concentrate now?
You’ve gotta give it to him, he delivers his lecture perfectly. If it were you, you’d barely be able to think. Hell, you barely can throughout the whole thing.
Now that you’ve gotten that smile of permission, you finally let yourself daydream.
Has his ass always been that cute? Has he always been that tall? Has his voice always been that deep and sexy?
You don’t even know what he’s talking about, but that’s okay, you can always stop by his office hours. “What do you think?” He asks.
Oh shit, he’s looking at you for an answer. He can always rely on you to keep class moving along when everybody else is dead silent. You shake out of your thoughts, panic-reading the board to come up with something. It's similar to your discussion you had the last time you went to his office hours. The time that ended in that gorgeous kiss. Throwing together an answer, his eyes brighten as he cheers, “Exactly!”
Oh my god. He’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. You could just gobble him up.
-
“So, I suppose we should talk about…” Professor Choi trails off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air like it’s obvious what he’s getting at. And it is. But you stay quiet. You wanna hear him admit it. You raise an eyebrow, playing coy.
You decided to press your luck by visiting his office outside scheduled office hours—right after class—to simply test the waters and gauge his reaction to the code of conduct and that kiss…that incredible kiss.
“You know…” He gestures vaguely between the two of you, sighing like okay, fine, I guess I’ll say it. “I like you and you like me, right?” His voice dips just slightly, enough for you to notice the hesitation. “Unless I’m totally misreading—”
“No! You’re not…misreading anything,” you’re quick to say, along with a chuckle. Phew—he was worried there for a second. So goddamn cute. “What do you wanna talk about?”
He exhales a small laugh, but his smile is strained, cautious. “I want to make sure you don’t feel…weird about this.” Hand sliding nervously along the edge of his desk, he traces the wood grain before his eyes flick up to meet yours. Truth be told, he’d never do something like this with a student. Never want to make anyone feel pressured. But he never thought he’d feel like this. Giddy and blushy like you’re his first crush.
“Why would I feel weird?” You tilt your head, genuinely curious. You’ve thought about this—about him—far too much for any of it to feel weird.
“I’m just terrified you feel like you need to do something about this.” You’re taken aback, confusion visibly etched across your face. “You know, because I’m your professor or because I’m in the department and I know your plans for a PhD here.” His voice softens, vulnerability creeping in. “I don’t want it to feel like I’m pushing you into anything.”
“I don’t,” you say gently. “It’s not like that.”
He nods, though the tightness in his jaw doesn’t disappear. “Because if you ever even remotely feel like I’m pressuring you, I want you to tell me. Immediately. I mean it.”
“No,” You shake your head, almost too fast. “I mean, it doesn’t feel like that. Not at all. I’ve thought about this…about us, a lot.” Your voice falters for a moment as his eyes widen, softening in a way that makes your stomach flutter. You weren’t expecting him to look at you like that—so open, so relieved.
His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to reach out to you. “Yeah?”
You nod again, more confidently this time. “But I think we should wait until the semester’s over. Before we…you know…do anything.”
He smiles gently and leans back, visibly more at ease. “I think so too.”
But you didn’t realize how fucking difficult it would be to get through the last six weeks of the semester. Every class you sit there, thighs pressed together thinking about the dirtiest things you want him to do to you. Every office hour you went to, you could practically swim through the thickness of the tension between you two.
It didn’t help how cute he was being. Post-its he’d leave on every exam of yours—You’re gonna do great! You’ve got this. Trust your instincts.—encouragement no other student got. You kept every one of them in your bedside table drawer.
When finals week finally arrives, it wasn’t just about exams; it was about counting the hours until you could finally be with him. Or at least talk to him like he wasn’t your professor. As he handed over your final exam, the familiar green post-it note was stuck to it: Happy Finals Week!
Your internal scream was so loud, you’re worried your classmates heard it. You’d pre-written a post-it to stick to it once you returned the exam. It had your phone number, a smiley face, and the words: Since you’re not my professor anymore.
-
After a full day of checking your phone every twenty seconds, you started to give up. Was he just playing you? Did someone else see the note? Did he change his mind? But finally, you receive a text.
hi! this is soobin (professor choi lol). i was wondering if you wanted to get dinner or something?
soobin!! omg yes i would love to get dinner with you :) how’s tomorrow?
how about right now? if you want, of course! no pressure we can totally wait until tomorrow it’s up to you
You squealed into your pillow, kicking and giggling like an idiot. Should you be flirty back?
i can be ready in 30 min. 364 oakridge drive. it’s an apartment building- i’ll meet you downstairs.
be there in 45 :)
-
Like a perfect gentleman, Soobin meets you at the passenger door, swinging it open with a charming smile before gently closing it behind you. The slow walk up to his front door makes your stomach stir. He has to fumble through his keys to unlock it.
Once inside, he slips his shoes off quietly, revealing cozy patterned socks that make you smile. Meticulously, he hangs his jacket on a coat tree and places his keys in a speckled clay catch-all that rests on a table next to a houseplant. As he walks toward the kitchen, he glances over his shoulder, his voice low and inviting. “Do you want a drink or something?” The warmth in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat.
You’re drawn to this softer side of him. In class, his tone is bright and dorky. In his office, it’s casual and laid-back. At dinner, it was sweet and charming. But now? Now it’s sultry, almost sexy. Like he can’t wait to be with you but would never, ever pressure you.
“Hot tea?” You suggest with a steady voice, despite the butterflies in your stomach.
“Sounds good,” he agrees, switching on his tea kettle. In the meantime, you take a look around his much neater than expected apartment.
The mid-century modern furniture is impeccably arranged—a sleek sofa, a low coffee table, and a stylish armchair with an even more stylish decorative pillow. Perfectly nurtured plants thrive around the room, adding a green vibrancy to the minimalist backdrop, breathing life into the space. A gallery wall above his expensive-looking couch features travel photos, beautiful art, and a few subtly science-inspired pieces. In the corner across the couch is a sleek electric fireplace underneath a huge TV.
“Who’s this?” you ask, your heart swelling as a fluffy gray cat glares at you through one half-open eye. Her perfectly groomed fur and regal posture make her look like she owns the place. Just then, Soobin steps into the living room, holding two steaming mugs of tea, filling the air with a warm spice.
“That’s Molly…short for Molecule,” he says. “Don’t worry, she’s sweet.”
Extending your hand toward the cat, he starts to sniff you. “Hi, M—wait,” you pause, looking up at Soobin with a teasing smile. “Molly, short for Molecule?” He nods, his grin widening. “You’re adorable,” you tell him. Has anyone ever blushed quite like he did just now?
He stares down at his feet, clearly caught off guard. “You’re,” he starts. “Well, you’re cute too.” His sincerity makes your smile grow even stronger.
“Can I sit?” you ask, nodding toward the couch.
“Oh,” his smile falters for a moment. “Yes, of course. Make yourself at home.” You plop down on his couch, settling into the surprisingly soft cushions. Molly clearly doesn’t think the couch is big enough for the two of you, so she strides over to probably the nicest cat tree you’ve ever seen.
You sip your hot tea and your body finally relaxes. As you reach to sit it on the coffee table, he politely asks, “I don’t mean to be a square, but can you use a coaster?”
“Of course,” you say, complying with the request. “So, tell me,” you begin, clearing your throat. “How’d I do on my final?” Humming, he stands to rummage through his messenger bag slumped over a dining chair. You gasp, “A ninety-seven?” Thumbing through the pages, you find a single red X on possibly the easiest question you’ve had on an exam since high school: What is the atomic number of oxygen? “Are you kidding me?”
Any attempt to mask your embarrassment is impossible. It only deepens when you look up and catch him already watching you—lips pressed tight, failing miserably to hide a smug, amused smile.
“I, uh…” You scratch the back of your neck. “I got that one wrong on purpose. You know, so as to not raise any suspicion.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, did you now?” You nod. “That was on the exam just so Toby wouldn’t get a zero.” You nod begrudgingly. “And you put 10! That’s not even close. That’s—”
“Neon,” you grumble. “Yeah I know…” you say, avoiding his eyes as he laughs playfully.
“Neon’s a noble gas and oxygen is a—”
“Reactive nonmetal,” you cut him off. “I know, okay?” You shove his shoulder playfully, but your grin betrays you. “It was a high-pressure environment. Sitting in an exam room with your professor watching you."
"I barely looked up from my laptop,” he reminds you.
"Your presence is distracting enough," you shoot back, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Ah, so my intellectual aura threw you off?”
“I dunno…is that what you think, professor?” You ask cheekily. “Maybe it was something else.” You’ve tossed the exam onto the coffee table, moving closer.
“Like what?”
“Just…you. You’re distracting.” You smirk, the words slipping out almost involuntarily, like they’ve been waiting on the tip of your tongue.
Intrigued, he tilts his head and asks, “What about me?” There’s something magnetic in the way he looks at you—like he knows the answer but wants to hear you say it, to savor the way it sounds coming from your lips.
You hum, tracing the lines of his body with your eyes, mapping out uncharted territory before exploring it. You don’t want to move too fast, but every fiber of your being screams for more. He’s not lighting a fire inside you—he’s setting the whole forest ablaze. Sure, your imagination has been running rampant since he returned your feelings six weeks ago, but now that you’re here, he scrambles every thought.
“Your eyes…” you say while yours flick over his face, taking in every curve, every freckle, every lash. “They’re so pretty.”
A smile—small but real—tugs at the corners of his lips. The kind that’s private, meant just for you. His eyes darken as he leans in, the space between you shrinking. You glance down, noticing the way his long fingers curl around the mug handle. There’s something almost hesitant in the way he holds it. You take it from him gently, setting it atop a coaster as quietly as you can.
“Your hands…” you whisper, fingers barely brushing his knuckles, tension coiled under his skin. They’re hands that have worked, experimented, written things down—hands you want on you. Guiding one to your thigh, the squeeze he returns sends a shudder through you.
Everything between you is electric. Your breaths come faster now, more desperate. Every inch you move toward him is a test, a slow-motion collapse of restraint.
“Your legs…” A soft breathless chuckle escapes as you glance down. His lips part like he’s about to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. Boldness surges through you like a current and you hike one leg over both of his, straddling him. The shift is seismic. His hands move to your hips, gripping you, afraid to let go. The heat of his touch spreads through you, anchoring you in place, though it feels like everything around you is spinning.
“And your lips…” you murmur, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his. “Oh my god, those fucking lips.” You can’t stop staring at them, just a breath away now, soft and wet. Your pulse races.
You cup his face, lifting his chin until his eyes meet yours again. His pupils are blown wide, the desire in them unmistakable. Your thumb brushes his bottom lip, and the moment stretches, suspended. You lean in just enough to feel his breath on your lips.
“Kiss me,” you whisper.
And he does.
It isn’t tentative—it’s dam-breaking. Like he’s been starving for it, holding back for years. His lips are soft but urgent as his hands tighten around your hips to pull you closer. You taste jasmine tea on his lips, a subtle sweetness mingling with the spice of his cologne—clove, pepper, something dark and addictive.
“Holy shit,” you whisper against his lips. “I can’t believe I had to wait so long to kiss you again.” You kiss him again and he moans sweetly into your mouth. Just as the kiss deepens, he retreats, his breath ragged. “You okay?”
Nervously nodding, he says, “Yeah,” but his eyes flicker away. He tries to kiss you again, but you place your hand on his chest, gently stopping him.
“Wait,” you say, eyes searching his face. “What’s going on? Am I being too—”
“No,” he says, almost a little too urgently. “It’s not that. It’s just…” His hands fall to the couch. Bracing to tell the truth, he squeezes his eyes shut before adding, “I need to tell you something.” You sit back on your heels, still in his lap but giving him room to speak.
“What is it?” You ask softly.
“There’s this thing… I haven’t—uh…” He stumbles over the words, his fingers twitching at his sides.
“Soobin?” you ask, your voice gentle but steady. That’s the first time you’ve called him by his first name. It feels utterly…vulnerable. “Are you a virgin?” The question is delicate. Shutting his eyes again, he takes a deep breath.
“No,” he says. “Well, not exactly.” You narrow your eyes at him. What is that even supposed to mean? “It’s just…it’s been a while. And before then, I hadn’t had a lot of sex. And I haven’t had any…recently.”
“How long?” you encourage, your eyes softening.
“A year.”
You hum softly in acknowledgement, watching his confidence falter. Instead of pulling back, you lean forward, trailing slow, deliberate kisses along his neck. He trembles under your touch, a soft gasp escaping his lips, your hands moving all over his body, claiming him.
“Oh, Professor Choi,” you whisper, your voice dripping with heat and promise. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”
-
As your breath slows, you sit up and let your hand linger over his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm. “Tell me,” you start. “What do you like?”
“Um,” he swallows, trying to force the lump down his throat. He’s so hesitant but he finally says, “Touching.”
“You touching my body or me touching yours?”
He exhales shakily. “The first,” he says, confirming with a squeeze to your hips.
You hum against his ear. What are you gonna do with him? Tease him forever? Let him have his way with you? You ask, “Why don’t you take my shirt off for me?”
Gracing his hands over your arms, he grounds himself again before asking, “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” You nod, guiding his hands to the top button of your blouse, letting him slip it through the buttonhole. One by one, he exposes more of your skin, his heart thumping harder with each passing second. Pushing the silky fabric past your shoulders until your top half is only covered by a bubblegum pink mesh bra, leaving almost nothing to the imagination—except for the red embroidered hearts over your nipples.
After easing the shirt out from your trousers, you reach back to pull at the sleeves, letting the shirt fall to the floor. He slips his finger under one of your bra straps, pulling it to the side, but you stop him. “Wait. It’s your turn.”
Tugging on his tie, you slip it through the collar and unbutton his dress shirt. Seeing his body bare in front of you for the first time, you’re practically drooling. You indulge in running your hands all over his body, lean with subtle muscles, from his chest to the bottom of his abs.
“How come you got to touch me if I didn’t get to touch you?” He asks innocently.
“You’re right,” you chuckle. “I’m sorry.” You smile and sit up to press your palms against his and let your fingers intertwine. Your heart melts and you fear you may throw up. “Did you want to take my bra off first?” He nods. Fumbling fingers reach behind you to snap it off, letting it fall to the couch. As he sees your bare tits, his eyes widen and he lets out the cutest little Oh.
He’s hesitant to do anything. You have to guide his hands to massage your tits—and they’re the perfect size for you.
“You’re so…soft,” he says, looking up at your eyes, like he’s not sure if that was okay to say.
“You like them?” He nods eagerly. Experimentally swiping a thumb across a nipple, it hardens at his touch while you let out a sharp gasp.
“You like that,” he says matter-of-factly. “Can I taste?” Nodding, you lean forward, welcoming his lips. His body finally relaxes as he moans against your skin. Circling the tip of his tongue around your nipple, he’s teasing you. And oh my god do you love it.
One of your hands threads through his hair and you stuff the other down your pants, but he grabs your wrist softly.
“That’s not fair,” he whispers and you concede, keeping your hands to yourself. With one hand, he stuffs your tit back in his mouth while the other plays with your other nipple. His hot, wet mouth on one nipple and his teasing fingers playing with the other sends waves of pleasure through you that may send you over the edge.
If you don’t do something to ease your need, you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to take this. You resort to grinding against his hard cock, making his hips buck.
Lifting your legs off his, you swing around to sit next to him, palming his cock over his trousers. Desperately clawing at the waistband, you unbutton and unzip his pants, encouraging him to kick them off. He stands to slip them off and as you reach for the band of his boxers, he stops you.
“Your turn,” he whispers. And you comply. But not without a show. Standing slowly, you push him to the couch and turn your back to him. As you push your pants down, your ass looks delicious in your thong that matches your bra—mesh bubblegum pink with red trim. When you turn back, he’s fisting himself over his underwear.
“Nuh-uh, that’s not fair,” you say. Returning next to him on the couch, you feel him over his boxers and your mouth waters. Goddamn you can’t wait for him to be inside you. “Do you have any lube?” He nods and shortly returns with a barely used tube.
While he stays standing, you sit up on the couch, running your hands across his muscular thighs and perfect pelvis. Looking up at him, his eyes are bright, darting all over your body like he’s afraid to miss something. He fiddles with his waistband, flipping the elastic over softly. A small smile flicks across your lips before you tug his boxers down his legs, leaving trails of kisses along the way.
Encouraging him to sit down, you look down at his cock, long and hard and dripping with precum. Finally, you drag your fingertips up and down his cock before squeezing him. He moans like you’ve never heard a man moan before. Laying your head on his shoulder, you sprinkle kisses all over his skin, finding a spot behind his ear that makes him squirm.
He hisses and—almost involuntarily—wraps one of his hands around yours to use his long fingers to guide your hand up and down. There’s something magical about someone with so little experience telling—no, showing—you what to do with his body. It’s electrifying. He hasn’t been touched in so long that he’s desperate to get off and can’t waste time with words. But no words need to be shared. His movements tell you what speed he likes.
Snaking his other arm around you, he stuffs his fingers in your hair and clenches his fist, subconsciously tugging the strands. His lips are right against your ear, breathing rapidly and heavily and he can hardly take it anymore. You watch his chest rise and fall as he clenches your hair, moaning getting quicker, he squeaks and whines.
Hurriedly pressing his lips to your temple, you can’t take your eyes off his cock as he shoots short spurts of cum all over his stomach. It takes a moment for him to catch his breath before he gives you a sweet smile.
You don’t let up with kisses all over his body. Sprinkling kisses here and there while he cleans himself up with a hand towel he’d brought with him when he got the lube from his bedroom. Once he’s clean, he slouches down the couch.
“Will you sit on my face?” His eyes are ever so sweet and innocent, like he’s finally able to test all his fantasies. “Please…” You hum like you’re only considering it, but we all know you’ll say yes. “Please, mommy?” Everything halts.
“Mommy?”
“F-fuck—” he sits up, ears turning redder than you’ve ever seen them—anyone’s ears for that matter. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first—”
“No, no…” you say gently, cupping his jaw to make him look at you. You can’t help yourself—you press your lips to his again and you lose yourself in his intoxicating kiss. But you break it and say, “Keep calling me that.”
“M-mommy?” You hum. Before you give him what he asked for, you shove your tit in front of his lips. He doesn’t need to be told what to do. His plush lips wrap around your hard nipple while he thumbs the other. It feels like fucking heaven.
“That’s my good boy.” He lets out the most pathetic whimper you’ve ever heard in your goddamn life. His eyebrows furrow, looking up at you through his lashes. “Are you my good boy?”
“Yes,” he says, nodding eagerly. “Yes, mommy. Of course.”
“Soobin,” you breathe in disbelief, dropping your head back. “You’re so sexy, I swear to god.”
“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head. “That’s you.” He smiles. “Will you please sit on my face now?” He slouches down again without waiting for an answer. “Please.” You hike your leg up to rest your foot against the back of the couch, gently hovering over him. But he wraps his hands around your hips to yank you down. As he flicks his tongue over your clit, you might be embarrassed by the volume of your moan, but there’d be no reason to.
“I thought you said you didn’t do this a lot?”
“Well,” he takes a deep breath. “This was always what I was best at.” You chuckle. “Wait, no—” he shakes his head. “I’m good at the other stuff too. I hope.” Returning his tongue to your clit, you gasp and fall forward, bracing yourself against the back of the couch. He seizes the opportunity to get fully entranced in your taste.
There's an impossible contrast—your body melts, muscles soft and pliant as you surrender to the pleasure but, at the same time, goosebumps prickle along your skin, sharp and electric. Warmth and vulnerability layered with a thrill that leaves you shivering, somehow both at ease and on edge.
But then he snakes his hand behind your ass to tease your asshole with his pinky. And it's overwhelming. Your knees are so weak you can hardly hold yourself up. The way his hands feel on your body, touching you in all the right places, flicking his tongue perfectly, moaning so temptingly along with the built up tension—it is so much. So. Fucking. Much.
It builds in your stomach—teetering on the edge and god you only hope he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. But you can’t form words to tell him that. But he knows.
And then it happens.
You feel like you’re floating—or falling may be more accurate—as your orgasm washes over you, thighs quite literally quivering around his face as you come undone on top of him. For him. Unable to hold yourself up any longer, you roll and plop to the couch and he sloppily replaces his tongue with his fingers. You make a mental note to show him exactly where your clit is later. How is it that he found it so easily with his tongue but missed it with his hand? You guess he was right—oral is what he’s best at. Your chest heaves with your deep breaths as you come down from your high, watching him smirk at you.
“Oh my god,” you say breathlessly. There’s a beat of silence. “What the fuck?”
“What?” He chuckles.
“I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I told you I’m good at it.”
“Where’s your bedroom? This couch is too small for what we’re about to do.”
Once he shuts his bedroom door to keep Molly out, he pulls you by your waist to press his bare body to yours and kisses you again so romantically it takes your breath away.
“Wow,” he whispers against your lips. “You’re so beautiful.”
“Oh my god, shut up.” You go straight back in for more kisses. But you break it— “But not literally, though. Please keep saying stuff like that.” You giggle together, slowly falling toward the bed until you’re gently laid on your back and he’s over top of you.
“Can I, like, kiss all over your body?”
“Of course,” you say. “You don’t need to ask.”
And then he does exactly what he wants. Starting at your lips, he moves to the corner of your mouth, trailing behind your ear and down your neck. The way his breath tickles your neck sends shivers down your spine and you need more, more, more.
As you lay there, simply basking in the feeling of him taking his time exploring every inch of you with the softest lips you’ve ever felt, you can’t help but be giddy. He’s tentative in some areas and eager in others. After he kisses the sensitive skin under your breast, he carefully observes your reaction. When he delicately presses his lips to your pelvis, his eyes flutter up to yours nervously.
“Soobin,” you say breathlessly. He hums against your tummy, shaky hands running up your thighs. “I need you please.”
“You need me?” You nod. “Where do you need me, mommy?” You groan, arching your back, not even knowing where to start. You need him everywhere.
“Inside me,” you say. “Please, I’ve been thinking about it for so long.”
“Have you?” He asks innocently, using his fingers to play with the folds of your pussy so casually, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “I should be the impatient one.” But you know why he’s taking it so slow. He’s nervous as hell right now.
Aligning his cock with your entrance, he slowly pushes himself inside you. And it's utterly exhilarating. For both of you. He falls forward, framing your face with his forearms, digging his nose into your neck.
“Fuck…” He whispers shakily. Your nails drag down his back at his inexperienced hip rolls. “Oh my god, what are you doing to me?” Despite his inevitable desperation, his thrusts are controlled. He’s trying his very best at least. But his cock is so fucking perfect, you figure he’d make you feel good no matter what he does. Although, a little part of you thinks about how good he’ll be at fucking you in a few months after a little practice. Or lots of practice.
He whispers swears, your name, and mommy…over and over again. Then he sits up, looking down at your body. Awkwardly fumbling as if he wants to say something, his mouth isn’t cooperating with his brain. He slowly comes to a stop, sliding out of you and barely touches your calf.
“Can you, uh…would you mind, um—”
"Do you wish to see me on my knees? Is that it, darling?"
“Yes, mommy…please, I’ve never—”
“You’ve never had someone on their knees for you?” You ask and he silently shakes his head. “You’ve been such a good boy for me. Of course I’ll get on my knees for you.” You oblige to his request, turning yourself around and arching your back to give him a perfect view of your ass. He groans at the simple sight of your body. He swipes his hands over the swell of your ass, squeezing here and there.
He clears his throat and asks, “What do I do?”
“Oh,” you chuckle lightly. “Just get on your knees and guide yourself in. Make sure it’s the right hole,” you say light-heartedly, trying to ease the tension a bit.
But when he’s finally inside you again, it’s heaven. And he indulges in himself a bit—thrusting faster, harder, making your ass jiggle. The lewd sounds of his cock in your wetness and his hips smacking your skin makes it all the more erotic. But it doesn’t take long before—
“I like it better the other way, I think,” he says matter-of-factly. “Is that okay?”
“Of course that’s okay, babe,” you say, flipping back over and spreading your legs. And he slides right back inside you, letting his head fall back. But your tits bouncing are simply too tempting not to look at. They’re why he prefers it this way, so why not look at them as much as he can? He retreats a bit, opening his mouth like he wants to ask you something but he’s too shy.
“What is it, baby?”
“I was just wondering if you…if you could—would you want to be on top?” His tone is genuinely sweet. “Like what position do you like?”
“Missionary’s my favorite too,” you say. “But I would, hm, I would really like to be on top for a bit.” Switching quickly, you align yourself over his cock and sink down on him so, so, so slowly, letting out a big sigh of relief. “Oh my god, Soobin. Are you fucking kidding me?” You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. The feeling stretches all the way to your toes. “I need to hump you like crazy for a bit,” you say with a chuckle. He nods like that’s perfectly fine with me, mommy.
And you do exactly that—bounce on his cock as fast as your body lets you, relieving that built-up tension. Over the last few months, you wanted to jump his bones every time you were in the same room and that feeling never let up, like there was a tension thermometer in your body that was constantly stuck at boiling.
But perhaps it was a bit more painful for him because an occasional rut up into you isn’t enough anymore. He holds your hips to keep you in place, fucking up into you as fast as he can. Head dropping back, he groans, your name leaving his lips.
“Mommy?” His eyebrows furrow, looking utterly pathetic. “Let’s switch back. Please.” Hiking your leg over his hips, you land roughly on your back. Gently grabbing your hands, he pins them above your head, aligns his cock at your entrance, and slides inside you, rolling his hips so deliciously. As he kisses you, he swallows your moans. Trailing down your neck, he whispers, “Please tell me I’m making you feel good, Mommy.”
Your eyes roll back in pleasure and you say, “Fuck, you’re making me feel so good.”
Slowing his thrusts, he asks, “What else would you like me to do?” Smiling up at him, you rub his thighs. Waiting for an answer, he covers your collarbone in kisses, making his way back to your ear. After nibbling gently on your earlobe, he whispers, “Tell me how to make you feel even better.” Oof. Shivers.
“Rub my clit,” you say. He sits up, fumbling with his fingers. “Use your thumb,” you giggle. “Wait.” Reaching for his hand, you let spit pool in your mouth before wrapping your lips around his thumb. Sucking on it, he looks at you like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Then he follows your instructions, rubbing your clit with his thumb while he fucks you, listening intently to every instruction, every a little to the lefts, up a little bit mores, and he never gets impatient.
Your back arches impossibly high and you say, “I’m close, babe. Don’t stop.” You rub your own nipple, but he moves your hand out of the way, wetting his thumb with his own spit before circling it for you.
Everything has been building to this moment. Staring at him in every lecture, longing for his touch. That kiss in his office was just the start of your addiction. Attending his office hours didn’t help, but you couldn’t stay away. You needed to be closer to him. To feel heat radiating off his body. To smell his spicy cologne. To watch his fingers wrap around his pen and wish they were wrapped around something else.
All of it was for this moment right here. Cumming around his cock for the first time. You can’t wait any longer. There’s a white hot burning in your belly that’s getting more furious by the second. His name leaves your mouth in a yelp before fireworks explode inside you.
Your legs shake around his waist as he fucks you through it, not changing a single thing. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you grab his wrist to stop him from rubbing your nipple to make sure it’s the most perfect orgasm you’ve ever had—not too much and not too little.
And it’s neither. Instead, it’s perfection. You knew it would be. It seems to last forever but somehow not long enough. As soon as you finish, you miss it.
Catching your breath, your vision clears up as you look up at him with a smile. He shyly asks, “How was that?”
You take a deep breath and say, “Oh my god, that was so good.” Rubbing soothing strokes up and down your thighs, you can tell he’s getting impatient. But still—he’d never pressure you in a million years.
Bending to kiss your neck again, he whispers, “Can I cum inside you?” You nod frantically.
“Please.”
“I have condoms if you want.” You think about it for a second. Really. You would love nothing more than to feel him fill you up. But it’s risky. “Mommy…” His hips slowly start moving again, encouraging a decision from you. “What are you thinking?”
“Cum inside me, please. Wanna feel all of you,” you say, rubbing his back. He smiles, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss that sends your head reeling. He sits up and squeezes your thighs over and over, adoring the way your body feels in his hands. Soft and squishy and intoxicating. Licking your own thumb, you pinch and rub one of his nipples, making his mouth drop open. He didn’t even think of having his own nipples played with.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he gasps. You praise him, Cum inside me, baby. You’ve been such a good boy for me. I want you to feel so good for me, okay? And he’s rutting his hips into you roughly, using your body for his own pleasure. You simply can’t get enough. You want him inside you forever and ever. “You’re…” he trails off. “You’re gonna make me cum, Mommy.”
“Go ahead. Cum for me.” Like it’s a command, his hips stutter and his cum fills you up, warm and sweet and heavenly. Swears and other inaudible words you hope are compliments spill out of his mouth. Falling forward, he digs his face into your neck once more, twitching until he comes to a stop, taking deep breaths.
You expect a warm smile to echo his warm cum filling you up but he stays put. In fact, he doesn’t move or say anything for quite some time. So much time passes that his cock has slipped out of you on its own, his cum leaking down the swell of your ass.
You finally break the silence, “Are you okay?” He nods awkwardly. “Look at me.” He shakes his head. “What’s wrong?” He still won’t budge. “Soobin, what’s going on?”
“I’m embarrassed,” he whines.
“Huh? About what?”
“Calling you mommy,” he finally sits up. “I was just caught up in the moment—I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—”
“Honey,” you giggle, sitting up with him. “I told you I liked it.”
“You weren’t just saying that?”
“I don’t think I would’ve came that hard if I didn’t like it.”
His eyes brighten before adding, “I guess so.” It genuinely was one of the strongest orgasms you’ve ever had. Surely, he has to know that, right? But wait—
“Was it good for you?”
“Oh my god,” he’s finally relaxed a little, peppering your face with kisses. “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had, I swear.” He stands, walking into his en-suite to get you a towel, damp with warm water. “So…” he starts awkwardly. “Should we, like, report this to the dean?”
“Is that your way of asking me to be exclusive?” He blushes as you brush some of his hair behind his ear. “Because my answer is absolutely.” You press your lips together. “Although, can we hold off for a while? Just until next semester starts?”
“Be in our own little world for a bit?” He smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist. “You’re taking a break until next semester, right? Are you working right now?”
“No,” you shake your head. “I got a bunch of scholarships to pay for school,” you say proudly.
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Because I’m the smartest person you know,” you say cheekily.
“No lectures until next semester, so I’m pretty much free.” He smiles, clearly wanting to say something more, but bites his tongue. “Can I ask you something?” You nod. “This may be moving way too fast, but do you maybe wanna spend the holidays here? With me?”
The next few weeks are a whirlwind. Both of you admit it’s too fast. But neither of you care. The fireplace roars as you decorate his Christmas tree together, wrapped presents, baked cookies, everything you could think of that ooey-gooey couples do.
And of course, nightly sex is a bonus. You simply can’t get enough of each other. And you just about lose it when you walk into the kitchen on Christmas morning. He’s standing at the counter wearing a Santa hat, flannel pajama pants, and a black tank top making your favorite tea.
“Ah, there she is! Good morning,” he says with a smile. You take a plate full of chocolate chip waffles from him. But not before he kisses you. Cupping your cheek, he pulls you into perhaps the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had. You can feel his smile on your lips.
And everything feels absolutely perfect. You think you may be dreaming, but he feels so very real at this moment. And his voice is clear as day, “Merry Christmas.”
#hp's writing 🪲#soobin smut#soobin hard thoughts#soobin hard hours#txt smut#txt hard hours#txt hard thoughts#choi soobin#chubby reader#soobin x reader#soobin ff#soobin fic#soobin fanfic#soobin x chubby reader#kpop ff#kpop fanfic#kpop fic#kpop smut
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⋆.˚✮˚.⋆imagine mattheo being touchy and fingering you while in class-smut
"baby, i need you so so bad," he whispers in your ear while you were taking down notes in snape's class. you tried to shush him and tell him to go back to work, but he just did not listen. instead, his veiny, strong hand landed on your thigh, his thumb caressing and drawing circles mindlessly, making your skin feel a jolt of electricity. you tried to push his hands away because they were distracting you from focusing on the class. but his hand was firm and wasn't ready to buldge, he then slid his hands up to the hem of your skirt. you glared at him to which he smirked and whispered in your ear, "wanna make you feel good." you bit your lip. "shut up, mattheo. concentrate on the class and do your work." you managed to barely mutter those words out. "i'd rather do you, baby," he replied horsely which made you close your eyes to avoid losing control. he kept on sliding his hand up your thigh and moved your panties to the side, he groaned when he dipped two of his fingers inside your pussy. "fuck baby, you're dripping wet." he stated, his fingers starting to fuck you with such great precision. his skilfull fingers doing wonders to your pussy. his thumb caressing your clit. you tried to hold down your moan by biting your lips but that did not work. you left out a groan because you couldn’t control it in anymore, you hoped that no one heard you. his fingers picked up pace and at this point you long forgot to jot down your notes. his fingers were touching the right spot, over and over again. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your hand reached out to grab mattheo's wrist. your fingernails dug deep into his skin as your tried to tamp down the moans. your breathing grew shallower and your eyelids started to get heavy which made your classroom a blur. his fingers worked through the final knot in your core after which you exploded. the intensity which which you came, had your legs shaking violently. his massaged your clit one final time after which he drew his fingers out, and licked them. while he was licking his fingers clean, off your cum he whispered "you taste heavely". you could see the nail marks on his wrist which made this scene even more sexier. it made you feel a sense of pride because now the world knows that you are his as you marked him. your breathing steadied, although, you knew your face was still flushed and slick with a little sweat. mattheo kissed the side of your forehead and muttered "good girl," after which he paid attention to the class like he didn't just finger fuck under the table while a class was going on.
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#:☆゚may writes#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle smut#slytherin boys#slytherin boys smut#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle fanfic#mattheo riddle x y/n#hp smut#harry potter#mattheo riddle headcanon#mattheo riddle blurb#mattheo riddle x fem!reader
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i biblically need this man.
#lorenzo zurzolo#niccolo govender#niccolo rossi#theodore nott x you#theo nott angst#theodore nott angst#theo nott headcanons#theo nott fic#theo nott x reader#theo nott smut#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott headcanons#theo nott fanfiction#theo#theodore nott#baby netflix#harry potter#hogwarts#slytherin boys#fandom#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry#fanfic#slytherin#slytherin fanfiction#x reader#fan fic writing#hp fanfic#my bf (real)#my man my man my man
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@jegulus-microfic / school / 319 words
It was the first day of his second year at Hogwarts. James was already running late for class; he had forgotten the lucky necklace his mom had given him during his first year. He never took it off, but he had cleaned it the night before, wanting it spotless for the start of the new school year.
James sprinted back to his dorm and rushed to his first class. As he took a quick turn, he crashed into someone, causing the other boy's books to scatter at his feet. Incredibly embarrassed, James immediately started apologizing, but as he bent down to pick up the books, he realized his sun pendant had gotten tangled in the boy's sweater.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” James said, his fingers carefully working to untangle the mess he’d made. “This is why they always tell us not to run—I really should listen to McGonagall more often…”
His words caught in his throat as he finally lifted his gaze and locked eyes with the prettiest boy James had ever seen. He had to be new; James would never have forgotten those charming freckles scattered across the boy’s face or the perfect curls framing it.
“I- I’m James.”
“I thought you were sorry,” said the boy in a sweet voice, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. He looked at James with more kindness than he deserved after bumping into him.
“That too.” James felt a blush creep up his neck, even more embarrassed by his awkward introduction. “And you are?”
"My brother." Sirius’ voice came from behind. "James, please stop distracting Regulus. He'll never forgive you for making him late on his first day."
Sirius wrapped an arm around Regulus' shoulder and started guiding him toward class. For a moment, Regulus glanced back at James and smiled, their gaze lingering just a little longer for two boys who had just met.
It really was a lucky necklace.
#let it be known that james told this story in his wedding speach years later#i wanted to write smth for september first he he so here it is#marauders fandom#fanfic#the marauders#marauders era#marauders#marauders harry potter#marauders fanfic#the marauders era#marauder era#marauders fanfiction#james potter x regulus black#james and regulus#james potter#james x regulus#regulus x james#regulus and james#regulus black#regulus arcturus black#regulus black x james potter#jegulus#jegulus microfic#hp marauders#starchaser#sunseeker#james fleamont potter#rab#fjp
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