#i have a half-finished fic sitting in my drafts for this pls let there be a proper fandom after i am begging

[theinfinitedivides]

The Song of Scorpions (Irrfan's last film) is finally releasing in India on the 28th and i cannot wait for y'all to see the absolutely tragic/unhinged masterpiece that this film is

[pbs-theundeadmaggot]

Guiding light

(AU) Eddie Munson x gn!reader

[a/n] I’ve been having a bit of writers block but i finally got some motivation back and thus this fic was born. I’ve got a few more half finished fics sitting in my drafts but i can’t promise they’ll be released soon... or ever. Originally I wasn’t going to post any fics this month due to December being tough for me but it turns out my lonliness is good for one thing, writing! Anyways enjoy this piece? i managed to get out and pls reblog if you liked it, it’s always greatly appreciated.

[Warnings?] mentions of wearing a dress so if you’re not comfortable with that I’m sorry. brief mentions of abuse and alcoholism.

other works available here!

so if i sold myself a lie,

would you be my guiding light?

Sighing half heartedly you trudged along the snowy road that led towards your home, rubbing your hands together in an effort to keep warm you cast your mind back to the weeks leading up to this horrendous day. Eddie had begun to give you the cold shoulder, often brushing of your gentle touches and busying himself in an effort to spend as little time in your company. At first you thought nothing much of it, hoping he would come to you in his own time and tell you whatever seemed to be troubling him. Alas, that didn’t happen and weeks past where you continued to listen to his lies, just watching as he seemingly left you behind like a used toy, no longer needed. 

You’d asked members of the Hellfire club if anything had happened but they shrugged you off and told you Eddie was just being Eddie and he’d come around soon enough. Although, you knew they meant well, this did nothing to ease your concerns as you were left to just stand by as the relationship between you crashed and burned. 

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Maybe you were being dramatic but to you Eddie may have been tough on the outside with his wild hair, ring clad fingers and worn down jeans followed with his infamous Hellfire top, yet he was sensitive and cared deeply about others and what they really thought of him. His behaviour could usually be described as erratic or chaotic but he could also be extremley gentle and caring once you got past the steel walls and chained up heart of his. You had known him for too long not to notice the change in his mannerisms and how his brows slightly scrunched when he lied. You knew him probably better than you knew yourself and when you love someone as much as you loved Eddie, you would do anything to ease their pain and troubles, even if it meant getting hurt in the process.

Eddie on the otherhand, while looking as carefree as he could, felt like he had slightly died inside. He’d promised himself he would never hurt you yet that was all he could seem to do at the moment. The lies slid past his lips, smooth like posion and quick enough to conceal the truth he so desperately wanted to hide. He could see the hurt and confusion well up in your eyes everytime he denied your company to the point where recently you had stopped contacting him altogether out of fear of being rejected again, unsure if you could handle it anymore. 

He had fallen deep into a dark and dingy hole of his own self pity, believing that you would never date let alone love a freak like him. He was just a nobody, the freak of Hawkins High, the misfit drug dealer and waste of space just like his dad was. Guess he really was living up to the Munson name.

Somehow you had managed to worm your way into his heart and stake your claim over it. As soon as he realised this he knew he needed to act fast before he got even more attached knowing that the longer he prolonged it the more it would hurt. He justified this by repeating how he was doing this for you and your future, he couldn't bare the idea of you staying in this shit hole town, working 40 hours a week to just get by and for what? Him? He wouldn’t be the reason your kids were raised in a heartless town, surrounded by mindless minions for people and no freedom. You deserved more that a $2 ring that he’d got from a vending machine. More than a cheap dress that you’d probably get from a second hand store. More than he could ever hope to give you. 

He would not turn into his father. He couldn’t end his nights drinking himself to death only to wake up for his regular wifebeating sessions. He couldn’t watch as your eyes grew tired and weary, where his presense terrified you and the saftey of your child. He couldn’t bring whores home routinely while his wife waited quietly in the other room of their cramped trailer, tears rolling down her puffy face. 

All of this for a slither of feeling like he mattered. For a brief moment of pleasure, trading years for seconds that wouldn’t mean a thing.

Can I find enough patience in time?

Take a step back and rewind

or stay, away

You had begun to isolate yourself, feeling the effects of being away from Eddie for so long. Steve and Robin had been round to try and tempt you out, to no avail and even the kids had started to worry about you due to your absence at their regular hangouts. They were so used to you and Eddie coming as a package deal, never one without the other, that this sudden (or not so sudden) change had been somewhat startling. 

Dustin being one of the few people Eddie trusted with his life had attempted to start up conversation but was immediately shut down, afraid to anger him any further. He’d sensed that something had occured, promising himself that he would get to the bottom of it and hoping he would get his former Hellfire parents back on speaking terms.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

As snow melted into puddles and the days began to get brighter you were fully gone from Eddie’s life. You’d gone from being the reason his world spun to the dirt on the bottom of his boots. It had taken a toll on your health and wellbeing, causing you to become a shadow of the person you once were. This hurt your friends deeply, watching how you were begining to wither away. Though, you may not have been dying you sure felt like it, feeling like a piece of you had been taken by Eddie, only to be shattered and stomped on with no hope of return. 

You didn’t realise quite how much of your regular routine was surrounded by what Eddie did or planned to do. Instead taking majority of your time to adjust and purge your schedule. You no longer had to stock up on extra snacks to give Eddie during lunch, never wanting him to go hungry or worry about wether to buy food or gas. You no longer had to photocopy your notes to give to Eddie, knowing he never really paid attention in class too focused on taking notes for his campaigns, and you being the best friend you were, did the work for him, in hopes of helping him to pass his final year. You no longer left your window open at night for him to sneak it at ungodly hours of the morning because he missed you.

You could go on forever about all the little things you missed or no longer did but forever would never be long enough. Of course you still carried on certain traditions the two of you shared in hopes that one day he might just find his way back. 

I decided to hide it and nobody knew

what i was going through,

forget it.

Eddie had now perfected his ‘i’m doing better than ever without you’ facade, gaining steady income from his dealings and being invited to social events with free booze and horny girls who wanted a quick fuck, no strings attached. He was living his rockstar life. Yet none of it mattered if you weren’t there. He’d heard from former friends that you weren’t doing too great but he shook it off, praying to a stupid God that this would be worth it in the end. 

He’d also busied himself planning his upcoming campaign, stating that it would be the best campaign in the history of Hellfire. Though they’d heard this one before, they cheered knowing that every campaign was special in it’s own way even if it didn’t always go to plan. 

Much to everyones suprise he was also on track to graduate that semester, seemingly everything was going right for him since you had gone. You silently cheered on the side knowing full well he deserved to graduate and move on more than anyone else in this god forsaken town, even if it meant truly leaving you behind. 

You’ve said it for the longest time,

I don’t wanna hear anymore, 

so tell me who to trust.

If anyone had told you that Eddie would no longer be the centre of your world you would’ve laughed in their face at such an bold claim but here you were slowly but surely recovering from the gaping wound he left behind. Some days it still hurt but it was nothing more than a dull ache, somewhat soothing as you knew that even though he no longer cared for you, you would forever treasure the relationship you once had and the lessons it had taught you. 

Winter had passed and spring blossomed gracefully, welcoming the new life that bloomed; reminding you of hope that would soon come. You’d heard through the grapevine that Eddie had no problem replacing you during the first months spent apart but you stayed strong and told yourself that techincally he didn’t do anything wrong, he was only human after all. Yes he could’ve let you down in a kinder way, guarding your heart from the inevitable heartbreak but it was his choice to no longer be friends and that was okay. 

Things were really begining to look up for you, Steve and Robin had managed to get you a job at Family video with them, practically singing your praises at Keith the manager, to hire you. They had remained by your side during the whole ‘fallout’ as you now referred to it, staying loyal to you eventhough they were friends with Eddie first. At the begining it had been hard to accept, feeling shame and disgust bubble inside at the idea that Eddie had lost some of his most valuable friends at the cost of you. Yet you would never be able to thank them enough for all they had done for you, thanking your guardian angels for gifting you such amazing friends. 

That was until you’d heard Eddie was in a somewhat serious relationship. 

All the years you’d known him he had crushes here and there but they never amounted to much, this was before you realised the depth of your feelings, before either of you could even fathom the idea of nurturing a real relationship. Nonetheless, this news crushed you, eating away at the steps you had taken forward, almost feeling like you had disconnected completley from your body and you were nothing but a passanger to the will of another. 

Not so secretly, everyone knew what you felt for the metalhead, encouraging you that he had felt the same. Perhaps this was why his depature from your life had hit you as hard as it did, not wanting to believe that your platonic and progressing romanti relationship was over.  In your head you were content that the both of you were moving slowly, knowing that you wanted to take time to fully commit to each other although you never betrayed each others trust. You’d thought that eventually you would define the relationship and maybe if you had he wouldn’t have pulled away so abruptly. 

Maybe that was where you went wrong. You were to weak or too slow. Did you even tell him how much he meant to you? you felt as if you didn’t need to, your actions explaining it all but that slither of doubt in the back of your mind argues that maybe just maybe it could have saved you. 

If i sold myself a lie,

would you be my guiding light?

You say that I should find my own back to life, 

maybe you’re right.

Her name was Dixie? or Donna? It definetly started with a D but Eddie was far too wasted to form a coherent sentence let alone know what name his newest hook up had. It was the next morning he’d realised the damage had been done and there was no way of going back. The girl he’d been with had practically bombarded him with questions and thoughts last night, that in order to get her to shut up he just agreed with whatever was said. Little did he know, by that morning the small town was buzzing with gossip that Eddie had a new girl in tow and it was nothing less than serious. 

If the pounding head and heavy eyes weren’t enough that memory sure sobered him up. He’d thought that getting rid of you would be good for the both of you and eventually with time you’d realise that but now he wasn’t so sure. Seeing the amount of damage he’d left in his path and the mess he kept creating he knew what he’d done was wrong but he didn’t know how to go back from this. 

It wasn’t supposed to end up this way. 

He had become the thing he most hated and swore to never be. He had fooled himself into thinking he could live the rest of his life without you. He thought that he could replace you, finding solace in a meaningless warm body each night where the only pleasure he got was imagining it was you. 

Admit it, we’re finished,

it’s killing me that you’re unwilling,

to give in to any of my flaws.

seamlessly, you’re getting over me, 

so leave my open stitches, i’ll be free.

Summer had officially started. No more school or early mornings, just late night adventures and water fights. Eddie was still with his girlfriend as far as you knew rarely seeing them other than if you were unlucky enough to be in the same place at the same time. You kept civil and forced a smile towards the happy couple, knowing fullwell you could never blame him for his actions, besides he deserved the love and affection this girl seemed to give him and what kind of monster would you be if you prided yourself on loving him wholly but shun him for being happy?

Robin and you would be attending a local community college in the fall, wanting needing to remain closeby to stop Steve from getting in trouble. How he survived without the two of you will forever suprise you, thankfully he wouldn’t need to worry about that. The three musketeers would always be near. In fact you were all planning on moving into a small apartment together, Steve trading his stability and wealth for a dumpster diving paradise of freedom (but he wouldn’t have it any other way).

For the longest time

I was blindly swimming through a wave of rage 

torn inside, lost my mind,

so go ahead and turn the page.

The news of Eddie’s big breakup had spread like a virus and though you felt relief you couldn’t help but feel the overwhelming need to comfort him through his time of need. You could now actively think about him and reminisce on the good times without the need to hurt or anger him, so you decided to put aside any past grievances and offer him some guidance. 

Your friends had warned you against it, warning you could erase all the good progress you had made, but being the stubborn and slightly naive person you were you needed to do this for you, to gain closure once and for all and perhaps find out why he did what he did. It was decided. 

That night you drove over to his trailer, hands gripping the steering wheel and foot on the gas, you were ready. Walking up to the door you wondered if your friends were right, maybe you couldnt do this.

No. You had to do this.

Three knocks and a deep breath in you smiled nervously, fingers twiddling in the sleeves of your hoodie as you awaited the dreaded moment your eyes locked.

If i sold myself a lie,

would you be my guiding light?

you say that I should find my own back to life

maybe you’re right.

"hi".

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

[a/n] I was feeling lowkey mean so I left it on a cliffhanger mwahahahaha. Reblog or comment if you want pt 2!

[jishyucks]

Walls, Brawls, & Sudden Rainfalls (Teaser) ‣ hrj

‣ pairing: renjun x reader

‣ genre: enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, slow burn, college au

‣ teaser wc: 1.9k

‣ final wc: expected to be 15k+ (could be more), currently 12k

‣ summary: Your first impression of Huang Renjun wasn’t the greatest. In fact, the first two encounters you did have with him were enough for you to conclude that he was just some cold-blooded boy who genuinely didn’t care about anyone else but himself. That was, of course, before the (damn) universe brings you both together to work on the local daycare’s mural.

↳ Alternatively where first impressions blind the fact that you two actually fit quite well together.

‣ warnings? (so far): Brief mention of underage drinking, Renjun and reader argue really childishly lots, when I meant slow burn, I really did mean slow burn ‣ an: I've never done teasers for my longer fics, but maybe I do want one for this because I've worked a little too hard on this one, so pls enjoy!

“Chalk, white paint, string, ruler,” Renjun mumbles, taking the supplies up into his arms. 

You grab the paint brushes, “Why do we need half of what you just said?”

Renjun’s walking out of the room, paying almost no mind to you and your question. 

“Huang Renjun,” you say firmly, “Can you answer my question?” You both are outside at this point, “Or… or else I’ll chuck this brush at you!” Although it was a joke, you subconsciously knew you would if he seriously didn’t open his mouth within the next minute.

“So I can draw a grid?” He speaks to you as if you were stupid.

Oh, he’s going to get it, you think, but your thoughts and your body think and do different things. Your body decides to stay grounded where you were, “And why would we need a grid?”

Renjun huffs and turns to his bag. He fishes out the draft you both had made last week, only there’s a graph lightly drawn over it, “So we can replicate the picture onto the wall.” Renjun thought this over the past few days. If he and you wanted to mural to turn out exactly how you both had drawn it, eyeing it wouldn’t be the best to go about it. Hell, even drawing out a rough sketch of it could be difficult through eyeing it. 

“Can’t we just free-hand it?” You’re not understanding why Renjun wants to make the job more difficult than it was. There were only two of you. If there were maybe four of you working on the mural, then sure, go ahead and draw a graph, but there were only two of you.

Renjun shakes his head, “I think it’s worth it to draw the graph, that way there’s no chance of messing up.” He fiddles mindlessly with the string he’s been holding. You can tell by the expression on his face that he’s serious about this. You want to tell him that, ‘bro, this is a mural for a daycare, it doesn’t need to be one-hundred-percent perfect,’ but Renjun looks like he’s ready to fight for what he wants. 

“Fine, let’s draw the graph,” you say. 

Renjun looks at you confused. Why’d you back down so quick? “Huh?” 

“But you do it all on your own.” 

Ah… There it is.

“I’ll just sit here and wait for you to finish.”

Renjun wants to laugh out loud, not because the situation was funny, but because he can’t believe you’re actually saying what you just said. “Are you serious?”

You sit down at a nearby bench and nod, “Why would I be joking? You sure do act like you know what you want to do… so, go ahead. Do it.” A spiteful smile rises upon your lips and you wave for him to go on with his task. Being the stubborn boy he was, Renjun gives you one firm look before turning towards the small ladder. He drags it towards the right end of the wall and begins preparing the materials.

You watch him out of curiosity, wanting to know how he’ll manage to do it all on his own. You want to see if he’ll ask for your help, or end up wanting to free-hand the rough sketch in end. But as you do observe Renjun, it’s clear that he’s not going to ask for help or give up.

Renjun measures out string that’s about the height of the wall, 3 metres tall, and then the length, which was nearly 4 and a half metres long. Grabbing measuring tape, Renjun uses the ladder to measure and divide the wall into foot-by-foot squares, marking the corners of the squares with dark chalk lines. The job’s going to take long, that’s for sure, and watching him move up and down the ladder, while he tries his best to keep his marks aligned, you can’t help but feel bad for making him do it on his own. 

But then again, he wasn’t asking for help. 

Renjun on the other hand is struggling and he hopes you don’t see it. Yes, two hands were enough for the daily tasks he has grown accustomed to, but two hands weren’t enough to do this very task efficiently. There’s a voice at the very back of his brain that was itching him to ask you for help, but as always, Renjun and his stubborn ass refuse to do so, even if he’s on the edge of falling off of the ladder. 

“Can you hand me the black paint?” Renjun asks about forty-five minutes later. His hairline is drenched from sweat and the lack of expression on his face reveals how tired he was, “Please.” He hopes that you’d at least help with this. 

Without another word between the two of you, you stand up and pick up the bucket of black paint. You quickly plop it down next to the foot of the ladder before looking up at him, “Are you done with the graph?” You try your best to sound disinterested, eyes moving across the wall.

Renjun blinks down at you, “Does it look finished?”

There’s a caring instinct in you that notices the exhausted look in Renjun’s eyes. His eyelids are drooping, and he’s sniffling from the constant moving he’s been doing. Renjun’s sweating profusely from the sun beating down on the both of you, and you’re brought to wonder if he was prepared to be worked up to this degree. 

When your eyes meet his, you’re instantly pulled from your thoughts and you remember that you’re not supposed to give a single fuck about Huang Renjun, even if he’s working his ass off like this. He looks like he’s waiting for you to answer or leave to go sit back down. But a rogue idea somehow assembles itself in your head and you decide to just go with it. You roll your eyes, “Well, I’m going to the washroom if you aren’t.”

“Whatever.” He gives you one last glare before turning to the black paint and the string. 

You start making your way to the front door of the building, sending Renjun sneaky glances. The second he’s paying you no attention, both direct and peripheral, you make a break for it and start sprinting towards the centre of campus. There was no doubt that you look like a madman right now, zooming past students who were still on campus despite the day of the week, but you didn’t care. If you want to pull this off, then you need to do this quick—and quick means running like you were in a life or death situation.

Finally reaching your destination, you decide to take a breather, hands on your knees and everything. Your mind wanders back to the day you applied for the gig, getting deja vu from the exhaustion you’re feeling right now. 

Once you finally are able to catch your breath, you make your way into the building and sigh at the air conditioning. 

“Y/N! Hi! The usual?” The Starbucks worker, one you’ve obviously seen plenty of times, looks at you in an odd way but goes with the flow nonetheless. She’s smiling at you, finger hovering over the screen in front of her as she waits for a response.

You nod and add, “Add an iced matcha latte to that too. Make it venti, please.” She nods and continues on with the usual routine. 

You left as quickly as you came, although this time, you’re sprinting with a bit more caution, not wanting to spill the drinks you’ve used your own money for. You can’t help but wonder what Renjun was thinking right now—what were you doing in the washroom for so long? 

The two drinks you were holding in both of your hands said it all, though there was still no explanation why you decided to sacrifice some of your time and money for Renjun. It was just the nice person instinct inside of you that decided to do so. 

You’ll complain about it to yourself later.

When you finally return from your little mission, you’re lucky enough to arrive when Renjun’s distracted with the graph. You notice he’s done the vertical lines within the time you were gone.

“That was a long washroom break,” Renjun muttered rather loudly. He’s pressing the paint-soaked string against the wall, face angled slightly to the side in focus, “I was beginning to think you ditched me.”

You shoot him a glare behind his back and contemplate whether you should throw the drink that you bought for him at him. Instead, you say nothing and put the drink down next to his things, making sure it was in a spot that was safe from the surroundings. 

Renjun looks back at you, instantly noticing that you were now holding an entire Starbucks drink in your hand, completely missing the one sitting by his things. “Didn’t know they had a Starbucks in the washroom.” His tone is dripping with sarcasm and hints of irritation. He still can’t believe he’s actually been working on the graph for almost two hours on his own. 

“Oh yeah, they just opened one a week ago,” you shoot back. You plop into your previous place and sit there, taking out your phone to distract you from Renjun. 

You don’t realize how much time has passed when you see a pair of feet stop in front of you. You’re brought to look up at the owner, “What do you want?”

“I want a break.” Renjun answers flatly, “I’m done with the graph. Now work on transferring it.” He holds out the same draft he had shown you earlier, waiting for you to take it. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to show his shoulders and he’s using a small towel, that was originally supposed to be for the paintbrushes, to wipe his forehead. 

“Sure” was all you said before snatching the draft from his fingertips. 

All the hard work was done for you. Transferring it was easy. 

Gathering the supplies you needed, chalk, paintbrushes, and white paint, you get going on transmitting the draft onto the wall. The moment you start the rough sketch of the mural, you feel a wave of nostalgia hit you, remembering the countless activity books you completed as a kid. You can distinctly recall the pages where one side displayed a cute drawing of an animal or character of some sort, overlaid by a graph, while the page next to it shows an empty graph in which you were instructed to redraw the completed picture. This was exactly like that, only bigger and not for leisure. 

Your delight in starting distracts you easily from Renjun, who you unknowingly finally notices the drink you had gotten him not even thirty minutes earlier. Although he’s a bit puzzled by the drink, remembering damn well that he never got the drink himself, he lets his line of sight drift to your half-finished drink sitting by your things. When realization begins settling in, he does one more thing to confirm his thoughts.

Twisting the drink in his grasp, Renjun faces the sticker label towards him, eyes instantly finding what he was looking for. 

*Y/N*

His eyes flicker up to you, standing firmly at the top of the step ladder, unaware of the fact that his eyes have widened and the corners of his mouth have climbed higher on his face. Despite the fact he’s thankful and a bit sorry that he was giving you attitude the second you got back from your ‘washroom break,’ the larger part of Renjun that’s still certainly irritated with you doesn’t say thank you.

Not out loud at least.

[genezpen]

『 crashing back into you 』

pairings: hoshi × gn!reader

genre: angst(?)

summary: if your drunk ex-boyfriend happen to call you in the middle of the night, saying he wants to see you, what would you do?

warnings: intentional lower case typing, did not proofread!, crying lol, drunk!hoshi, drunk call, hoshi is an ex boyfriend, lmk if i missed anything

word counts: 795

notes: this has been sitting on my drafts half finished for like weeks now and school has been very cruel and hectic pls someone save me from this hell :( anyways, lmk if u enjoyed this short fic mwaaa ^×^

it was late at night when you received a call from an unknown number — not really. it was very familiar, it’s the number you were trying to forget.

“hello?”

you heard a grunt over the phone.

“hello? w-who is this?” your voice shake a little, trying to pretend you aren't aware on who's calling you at this hour.

“oh? y/n! woah! i missed your voice,” then the man on the other line chuckled weirdly.

his raspy voice is telling you that something is up. like, your ex won't just call you to tell you he misses your voice, right?

“are you drunk?” your forehead creased.

“no! of course, not!” and that's how you know he indeed is drunk.

“yeah, and pigs can fly.” rolling your eyes, you sat up on your bed feeling giddy about the call.

why are you so chill that hoshi is calling you late at night, drunk at that point, anyway?

“hmm... c-can i come over?” he mumbled pretty distinct.

“what?” chills shiver down your spine. you had to make sure you heard your ex right.

“i said, can i come over to your apartment? right now, y/n.” hoshi stated loud and clear.

it made your heart hammered inside your chest. is he freaking serious?

“no? hoshi, you're drunk. you aren't even supposed to be calling me—”

“no, no, i’m not druuunk! i just had a drink, you know...” the high pitched sound flickered your eardrums making you back away from your phone.

this is not happening. this is not supposed to happen. you remind your heart so many times why hoshi is a dangerous guy, why you had to break your relationship up. picking up the man’s call is enough to make you realize that... you, once again, fucked up.

the next thing you know is a wild hoshi came by dropping his whole weight on the sofa infront of your bed. he’s barely awake for pete‘s sake!

“hey? hosh? you have to change your clothes...” you whisper on his ears removing his black beanie after the shoes. kneeling down on the ground beside him.

flopped on his stomach with his left cheek squished against the square pillow, completely passed out. it gave you the opportunity to stare at his now tomato red face.

what has changed over the past five months? nothing. not his face, not his voice, not his warmth... except for his slightly visible grown stubble.

“i missed you...” the wind delivered your whispers to hoshi’s ears.

“really?” like a switch, he lift his head from the cushion a bit. he opened his red puffy eyes only to find yours inches close to his.

and then silence. using only your eyes to talk, with beating hearts in the middle of the night, it's bringing back plenty of memories you refused to forget about.

but then, you mean it. you can't say that you really do but hopefully, your gaze can.

slowly, hoshi close his heavy eyelids lying back into the cushion. you let out a relief sigh before getting up to get some pair of clothes for your drunk ex-boyfriend. but before you can even took a step backwards, hoshi’s warm fingers made it’s way to your left wrist making you halt in surprise.

“don’t– don’t go...”

you looked back at him. he looked peaceful sleeping like that except he's sleep talking and is stopping you from leaving his side.

“we'll talk once you sober up. tomorrow morning, hosh.” you placed your hand on the top of his which only made his grip tighten.

“no, no, im not drunk, just tipsy. come one, let's talk now.” he tried to get up, still with his eyes closed, but guess his other hand are not working so he failed to do so. hoshi flopped right back on the couch’s surface as he grunts.

“hosh, listen to me. we will talk, okay? just not now.” but he won't let go. instead, he's pulling you close.

“no, no. what if you leave again?” his voice slightly quivered, your eyes widen at his question. “w-what if you never come back to me again?”

your insides churn. you felt a bucket of iced water splash all over your body. and most importantly, you felt a hand pinching your heart.

“i won't...” you managed to utter.

“that's what u said...” his grip loosened as he murmur those words painfully.

a liquid from your eyes fell in oblivion, “i- i’m sorry... i promise.” you gave up. “please, rest for me.” you dropped to your knees, running your fingers through his hair gently. unable to hold back your sobs, you bring the back of his hand infront of your lips to plant small kisses.

“i miss you... bad. please, don't leave...” hoshi whispers in despair.

©genezpen

all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, plagiarize, repost to another platform/sites without my permission. this is solely available on tumblr.

[krabjoons]

omg professor... what are you doing?!?!?! [pjm]

⮕ summary: park jimin is the hottest, most popular guy at school. the only catch? he also just so happens to be your teacher.

⮕ pairing: park jimin x reader, mentions of jaebum x reader

⮕ genre: smut, university!au, pwp

⮕ word count: 12.8k

⮕ rating: 18+, nsfw

⮕ warnings: hard dom!jimin x bratty-ish sub!y/n, professor!jimin x university student! y/n (he’s 27-28 ish and she’s 21-22), fuckboy!jaebum, pussy eating, fingering, thigh riding, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), dirty talk (carries the whole fic tbh), degradation, edging, dumbification, impact play (pussy + ass spanking), manhandling, humiliation, exhibitionism, creampie, teasing, praise, orgasm denial, begging, overstimulation, crying, kissing/making out, jimin’s a meanie but y/n likes it (aka i go ham on the degradation and edging you have been warned), aftercare (like 500 words of it :P)

⮕ a/n: this took too long to come out and has literally been sitting in my drafts since august but here it is! writing this was definitely a rollercoaster because this was my first smut and honestly i felt like it was really bad at times but other times i was like wtf this is so hot,, ANYWAYS, i’m glad that i’m posting it and getting over that fear of imperfection. i hope that you guys enjoy this piece :). i would also like to add that please don’t hook up with your teachers… if you do, that’s on you i take no responsibility for that whatsoever lol. excuse the title i literally have no idea what to change it to but i like it the way it is tbh LMFAOOO OK I’LL STOP RAMBLING NOW BYEEE ILY ALL

University has never been when you’ve expected. When you first graduated high school and came here, you expected your late teenage years to be filled with just as much studying as high school combined with only a few parties here and there. You didn’t expect to make as many friends as you did and certainly did not expect to be known as the girl with the high grades and even higher alcohol tolerance. No longer are you the shy Y/N L/N that walked through the entrance gates on the first day of school; you’ve changed a lot.

It was a surprise to you. With academics taking precedence much of your life, the freedom university provided you with was welcomed - perhaps a little too much. You quickly learned that polar bear shots were great to keep you in a good mood at parties and that eating mangoes before smoking gave you a better high. And, you also learned about sex.

Admittedly, the first time you had a hookup, it was awkward and messy (at least for you… it was a guy, what else were you expecting?) but with more practice, you were able to get the hang of it. You’ve found your tastes and now willingly talk about who catches your eye to your best friends, something you never thought you’d do last year. 

Speaking of who catches your eye, as of now it’s Park Jimin. A really hot guy, according to your friends, and according to you, an even better voice. When you first walked into your Applications of Economics class, you nearly spit out your Starbucks drink after you saw the astonishingly handsome man with silky black hair in a dress shirt and tie. Surprisingly formal for a university student, you thought, but you weren’t one to talk, considering your current outfit of business casual.

Only, he wasn’t a student. He was your teacher. You should’ve put the pieces together earlier but you didn’t. Let's just say a Coconut Lime Refresher is good for hangovers, and you needed one desperately (basically, you were drunk as hell the night before and were still in the process of recovering). It certainly didn’t take long before all of campus was talking about the new economics professor who was hotter than hell. Girls (and some guys) immediately tried transferring into his class, one of them being your best friend Lisa, just to get a glimpse of how attractive he was. You remember a couple of girls offering you literal cash to transfer out, but you didn’t.

A good call, thinking about it now. You’ve gotten closer with Mr. Park, although it’s nothing too special yet, the two of you are on good terms and have even hugged before (you still get giddy thinking about it). Y/N from 2 years ago would be screaming her head off at how bold you’ve gotten, but now, you can’t bring yourself to care. Park Jimin is a hot guy, and you’re pretty hot too (if you must admit), so it would only be logical if the two of you could hook up. Unsurprisingly, you’ve lost your shame, nothing but thoughts of your teacher filling your mind in your spare time. 

So here you are, another day of university, as monotonous as ever. The only highlight of your day will be the morning, where you have a class with Mr. Park. You've started changing your style a bit recently, opting for more, let’s just leave it at provocative outfits. Walking into the room, you take your usual seat in the front, closest to Mr. Park’s desk. 

The class progresses like it normally does, starting with a review of the work from the last class and a discussion about the new material. "I’m going to give you guys this last half hour of class to review the material individually if you want or you can leave early, I don’t mind. I know it's a Friday so there’s gonna be some parties around campus, if you want to prepare yourselves for that then go ahead." Your professor glances around the room, smirking at you when mentioning the parties. You flush and look away, biting your lower lip. 

You make the decision to stay in the classroom while the majority of the other students file out of the room. "I'll be available for any questions," Jimin calls out, returning to his desk across from you.

Sticking to your reputation, you get a head start on the assignment and easily work through the homework. Surprisingly, you forget about Jimin for the time being, focused on finishing your assignment so that you have as little work as possible to do after classes. You don’t notice your teacher looking at you, admiring the way you put so much effort into the things you’re passionate about. Hearing a student call his name, he gets up to help him. 

Surprisingly, Mr. Park has assigned a disturbingly low amount of homework, probably because of the upcoming weekend and maybe a pop quiz later next week (ugh). You’ve finished your work in a mere twenty minutes and are surprised to find that Jimin is not at his desk when you look up from your laptop. You turn around, looking for him, and see that he’s helping another student. Whipping out your phone, you text your best friend Lisa (who just so conveniently, also thirsts over Jimin the same way you do).

to lisa: hey i finished classwork for mr park and have like 10 minutes of free time now lol

Instantly, she responds as if she wasn’t in class. Then again, she has never been one to pay too much attention to her professors. 

from lisa: ayo talk to him 

from lisa: also save me from bio i literally cannot

Smiling slightly, you respond to her.

to lisa: i WOULD but he’s helping other students

from lisa: then be like "m- mister park, i- need help please" and use puppy eyes 

to lisa: LMFAOO PLEASE he’d be like whats wrong with you since when did you struggle in this class

to lisa: but i mean, anything to hear him talk i guess 

from lisa: god i'm so jealous you have him early so you can hear his morning voice it must be hot asf

to lisa: it is omg

from lisa: god what if he moans like that it'd be such a turn on

to lisa: dUDE STOP NO the way this is literally true like if he has a good sip of coffee or a pastry he likes hes gonna go all "mmmm I wish you could try this" pls its so fking hot

to lisa: like SIR I WANNA TRY YOU or you to try me no complaints

from lisa: wtf he finishes his breakfast before my class so i can't even hear it tf I hate it here

to lisa: u have him right after my block bro at leAST you have him 

to lisa: what ab the people who don't even have him

from lisa: idk what i'd do honestly. imagine not having a literal sex god teaching you every day i pity those who dont

You’re about to type out a response when a smooth voice sounds out from behind you, "alright guys, you’re good to go. Have a good weekend!" You jump in your seat, not realizing that your teacher was helping the student right behind you for the past five minutes. 

As the rest of the class begins to pack up, you pray that he hasn’t seen you talking about your sexual fantasies less than five feet away from him. Mr. Park doesn’t say anything, so you must be in the clear, right? You’re hoping and praying that he didn’t find out, but your heart rate is already rising and you’re getting a sick feeling in your stomach. Your gut must be trying to tell you something.

Well, your gut’s telling you that the universe must not be on your side because as soon as you stand up, he says, "Ms. L/N, can you stay a bit after class? I have a few things I want to discuss with you." Cheeks flushing hot, you squeak out a "yes, sir."

When everyone has left and it’s just the two of you left in the room, Jimin pulls up a seat next to his desk. "Sit," he commands, leaning on his desk. You scramble to your feet and walk over, mind buzzing with thoughts. Oh god, what if he tells the administration department? Then you’d definitely be punished and maybe even kicked out of the school. Maybe you could make up a story? Oh, it’s ANOTHER Park Jimin, haha. Definitely NOT my teacher. Even if you did, they could go the rest of the texts between you and Lisa and you’d be screwed. And not to be petty or anything, but being kicked out would mean that you wouldn’t be able to be in Jimin’s class anymore and wouldn’t be able to see him. Oh, and the bigger problem would be that you’d also be unable to get your degree.

You start internally panicking, heart rate picking up even when your teacher rolls up his sleeves and leans down in front of you. Stop thinking about dirty things FOR ONCE, Y/N, half of you screams, while the other half of you has already started fantasizing about things which shouldn’t be thought about, especially with one of the people in the fantasies less than a couple of feet in front of you. With his hands on his thighs, the ones you’ve thought about riding far too often, he smirks.

"So, I heard you wanna try me?"

You gulp, absolutely mortified that Jimin caught you. Yes, he was attractive, and you would do practically anything to fuck him, but you didn’t expect to be humiliated into admitting it. "Um, no sir! I mean, maybe, but not in the way you think!" you ramble. Shut up, Y/N, part of you screams. You’re only digging yourself into a deeper hole.

"Yeah, sure. Because I definitely didn’t see what you were talking about with your friend. Be honest, Y/N," he says, smirking down at you. "You think about me, don't you? I'm not new to this. I see the way girls like you look at me. I know the way they talk about me when they think I can't hear. I know the way you think. Who would've thought? Little Miss L/N, all prim and proper on the outside, would be so filthy deep down?"

"Sir, I- uh. I-" you stutter out, cheeks burning furiously hot.

"You what? You're not going to try to prove your innocence now, are you? Not when you've gotten this far, hm? Getting to do what you’ve wanted after all this time?" he asks, standing up from his desk, and walking over to you, kneeling in front of you so that you were forced to hold eye contact. 

"You know, nobody else has been as daring as you, my dear," he hums softly. "Sending promiscuous texts about their teacher in the very class they're in. Rubbing their thighs together every time their teacher catches their eye." You shift in your seat, Jimin's words sparking the slightest of fires in your core. "Gazing ever so obviously at said teacher’s dick, too. Y/N, you amaze me. So, so brilliant. yet so, so naughty. You thought that nobody else would catch onto you? Unfortunately, you thought wrong."

"I'm s- sorry sir," you whisper out.

"You're just sorry that you got caught, Y/N. You'll keep doing this even after today," Jimin chuckles lowly. "Possibly even more after today," he adds on, taking note of how his words have affected you. Your pupils are dilated and your cheeks are starting to get flushed. "Such a dirty girl. I'm here trying to scold you, and here you are, getting turned on by my words. Is this why you ask so many questions, doll? To hear my voice?"

You bite your lip in a mixture of embarrassment and nervousness, nodding imperceptibly. The logical, studious side of you is thinking, oh my god, is this really happening? Am I going to fuck my teacher? I really shouldn’t be doing this. The relaxed, easygoing side of you (pretty much your horny side) is thinking, finally, it’s happening. I’m going to FINALLY be fucking Park Jimin.

"What else have you imagined about my voice, hm? How I'd whisper into your ear while pounding into you? Hear me moan as your tight cunt clenches around my dick? Tell you how good you're making me feel? Reminding you how much of a slut you are to fuck your teacher in the middle of his classroom, where anyone could walk in?" he continues, seeing you shift in your seat more. "Would you like that?" he asks.

"Y- yes Mr. Park. I- I would," you whisper. You have to consciously clench your thighs together to keep them from spreading at his words.

"Hm, I don't believe you. Try again another time, darling," he sighs, leaning back on his knees, getting ready to stand up. You don't want this, whatever it is, to be over that quickly so you make up your mind. Swallowing your pride and succumbing to the dull throb in your panties, you pout.

"But professor, I really do want you. I want you to make me feel good and I wanna make you feel good. Please," you whine out. "I wanna be thinking about you all the time because you fucked me so well in class. And when my friends talk about wanting to get in your pants, I want to be the only one who already has. Please, Mr. Park. I need you." you breathe out. At this point, the pressure in your core is rising steadily, and only intensifies when you see the way your teacher's eyes are glazed over in lust and eyebrows are furrowed. Your eyes travel down the expanse of his face to his lips, plump and pink. Oh, the number of times you've wished to kiss them, imagined them suckling on your clit. And now that Jimin knows, perhaps it's finally coming true. 

"You'd like that, hm? God, you're so dirty," Jimin mutters, inching closer to you, cautiously placing a hand on your knee. Your legs instantly part to make room for him in between and he inches forward. "Does dirty talk really turn you on that much, Y/N? I can smell you through your panties," he remarks.

"Mr. Park, please do something," you whimper. And with that, Jimin pulls you over to his desk and sits you on the edge. You spread your legs and he stands in between them. He leans his head closer to you until he's next to your ear.

"Want me to get you off with my words? You seem to like that already and I haven't even tried, doll. Or perhaps," he pauses, bunching up your skirt so that it pools at your waist. "You want me to touch you?"

You nod eagerly, chest heaving in anticipation. "I want both Mr. Park. I want you," you purr salaciously. And with that, your teacher lets out a low growl and presses his lips onto yours harshly. It’s already bruising, but you just can’t get enough of the way he tastes of caramel and coffee and how ridiculously soft his lips are, so you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in even closer. He seems a little put off by how eager you are, but once he hears you sigh in enjoyment, he melts into your eager grasp. 

His hands start sliding down your waist so that they are resting on your upper thighs, and he rubs comforting circles into them, trailing them closer and closer to your panties. He breaks off from the kiss to look down and smirks back at you before joining his lips to yours with even more fervor and you praise yourself for deciding to wear your lace thong today. You feel his tongue slide against your lips, asking for permission to enter and your mouth immediately complies. 

The feeling of his hot breath on your lips and thumbs rubbing against the juncture of your thighs has you feeling needy for more. Jimin swirls the tip of his tongue against yours, the filthy action turning you on even more. You moan into his mouth and thread your fingers through his hair, causing him to let out a low groan.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the two of you break apart. Chest heaving up and down, you take note of your teacher's face. His lips are redder and plumper than ever before. His cheeks have the faintest blush on them. His eyes, the ones that crinkle into a happy smile whenever you answer a question correctly in class, are now clouded over with deep lust.

"Get onto all fours. On the desk," Jimin commands, and you immediately comply. Now your ass is facing Jimin and you're very nearly completely exposed to him, save the thong you're wearing.

"God, you're such a slut," Jimin moans out at the sight. "Do you get dressed up like this just so you can get fucked in class? Such a short fucking skirt that I can see whatever you're wearing underneath whenever you bend over, hm? You wanted me to give in to you, doll?" When you nod weakly, he chuckles, "I don't think so."

Arching your back so your ass sticks out even more, you whine, "professor, please fuck me. I'm so fucking horny, please." Jimin cups your pussy from outside your panties and leans over you, "I don't think so, kitten. I'm the one calling the shots here." Your pussy flutters in response and Jimin slaps it lightly, chuckling. The brief stimulation has your cunt clenching around nothing.

He spreads your knees slightly and begins trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses up your thighs to the arch of your back. Feeling his breath so close to your core has you getting wetter by the minute in anticipation. He finally hovers over your back, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder, muttering, "I'm going to wreck you, Y/N", and you feel yourself clench in excitement. 

"Then do it," you whisper, and Jimin hooks his fingers around the waistband of your thong and pulls it down, so slow that it's almost painful, exposing your heat to the cool air of the classroom and causing you to shiver in response. 

You don't see it, but his eyes widen seeing the strings of your slick connecting your pussy to your panties. He takes a look at your core and his mouth starts watering. You're soaking and clenching around nothing, thighs shaking ever so slightly in anticipation.

He flattens his tongue and licks a flat stripe up your pussy, from your clit to your entrance. He pauses to suck some of your juices from it, but your cunt just keeps leaking them out. He runs his tongues through your folds over and over again until you let out a wanton moan.

Encouraged by your reaction, he hooks his arms around the side of your hips, nuzzling closer into your pussy. He laps at your cunt and purposely avoids your clit, only heightening the pressure in your core.

"Mr. Park," you whine out, pushing your hips back. "Please. More," you pant out. Suddenly, Jimin spanks your right ass cheek, rubbing his hand over the fleshy globe soothingly afterward. You let out a little yelp and turn around to catch his eyes. 

"More what?" he spits out, smiling at you evilly. "My little slut's gotta tell me what she wants. How else would I give it to her?" your mind is foggy, pleasure causing you to lose track of everything other than the man behind you. "W- want you," you garble out, "t- to play with my clit too." 

"What's the magic word, doll?" Jimin teases, breath fanning over your slit, causing your walls to clench erratically. "Please, Mr. Park," you whine, pushing your cunt closer to his face. He smirks at you, avoiding your advances. 

"Good girl," he praises before finally positioning himself just barely in front of your clit. You feel him blow cool air onto your slit, but the temperature of it is magnified even more due to how wet you are. You whine out, expressing your displeasure, and Jimin finally indulges you by taking your throbbing button between his plush lips.

"F- fuck, sir, yes! Right there, please," you squeal, back arching even more. Jimin hums, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body. You can feel yourself growing wetter, your entrance squeezing out more and more of your arousal down to where Jimin's lips are sucking. He momentarily pauses to flatten his tongue out, letting your juices drip onto them and slurping them up eagerly. The obscene noises behind you combined with the low thrum of student life just outside the classroom door mesh together to have you realize where exactly the two of you are doing this.

You glance at the clock, and your eyes widen. "Prof- oh my god, Pr- Professor Park," you moan out, trying to keep your focus. Jimin again hums, making you jolt in pleasure. "I- uh, there’s only ten minutes until the next block of classes start. I need t- to leave in around five." When Jimin releases from you with a pop, you can feel your slick running down your thighs and some dripping onto his desk. You feel a rush of excitement at the thought of everyone walking in during class to see the mess Jimin made of you on his desk and again squeeze around nothing.

"Well then," Jimin hums lazily, "guess you better cum within five minutes if you want to cum at all." He dives back into your heat, tongue skillfully running through your folds. He cycles between kitten licking and delivering harsh sucks to your clit and dipping his tongue into your entrance. You grind against his face in desperation to reach your release, and just when you finally feel it hurtling towards you at an alarming rate, suddenly, Jimin gets up.

He leans over you, trailing a hand up your slick-ridden thigh to cup your bare heat and mutters lowly in your ear, "time’s up." Your heart drops in frustration, and you whine out. Grinding into his palm, you beg for him to touch you once again, knowing nothing but how good he was making you feel just seconds ago. "Mr. P- Park, please. Make me cum," you cry out.

Jimin spanks your pussy, a wet echo sounding through the room. You jolt forward and your cunt leaks out even more of your arousal in response to the combination of pain and pleasure. "I said no," he hisses, "you couldn't cum in time, you don't deserve to cum." 

"God, look at you, you're a mess. Bent over and spread out so desperately for me. You taste so sweet, doll. So responsive, too," Jimin murmurs, lazily rubbing your slit. He's, once again, avoiding your clit and driving you insane. Your sensitive nub is now swollen and throbbing with need, slick with your arousal. 

"Has anyone touched you as well as I do, Y/N?" he asks. When you shake your head, he slaps your cunt again, another wet sound echoing through the room. "Words, baby girl," he goads, fingers dancing through your folds. 

"N- no, sir. they can’t make me feel half as good as you did. I’ve al- I’ve always been thinking about having you touch m- my cunt and making me cum really hard. and I- shit I’m so needy sir, I wanna cum," you garble out, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. You feel Jimin’s hand leave your pussy, exposing your soaked heat to the cool air of the room. Slowly, he pulls your thong up your thighs and the light touches make you clench in desperation and whine out.

He marvels at the sight of you so fucked out in front of him. The way his top student was falling apart at the slightest touches he gave you. And the words you said. God, to have you say such filthy things in comparison to your gentle demeanor, all because of him, it really did something to him.

Jimin finishes clothing you and presses a kiss to the top of your ass and walks across the room to get some tissues to clean up the mess you made. Still perched on the desk, you watch him needily, thighs rubbing together to relieve some of the pressure from being denied your orgasm. "So I really don’t get to cum?" You ask meekly, holding back a sob. "I need to cum, Mr. Park."

He chuckles, "there’s a difference between need and want, doll. You want to cum, you don't need to cum. But what you do need," he returns to you, leaning down so that his face is right in front of yours, "is to get to your next class." Your face, once eagerly lit up in anticipation, has now fallen in disappointment.

Rolling your eyes, you huff out a "fine" and get off his desk, feeling your arousal make your thighs stick together. Your panties are uncomfortably damp and you’re so wet you can even smell yourself. "Can you make me cum later?" you question Jimin, sliding closer to him and playing with his tie, praying that he’ll be the one to make you release instead of having to do it yourself when you get home.

"If you play nice I might. If not, then… we’ll see," he hums, handing you a tissue to clean yourself up while heading to wipe down his desk. "I have a lunch meeting in the second half of the lunch block, so if you really need me, I’ll be here before then." 

You grin and nod in excitement. "Cool! so I’ll-" you begin before the first students from the next class start filing in, making you jump. "The door wasn’t locked?" you whisper frantically to him. "We could have been caught, Jimin! Are you crazy?!"

He smirks at you, "didn’t you say you wanted it that way? Where anyone could walk in? I only did what you asked, doll." You’re left speechless as he continues. "Anyways, you should be in your next class pretty soon. I’ll write a note to your professor just in case you’re late. But get going, yeah? I’ll see you in time for our meeting." He hands you a slip of paper and straightens up, tossing the dirty tissues into the trash can in the corner of the room. 

"Okay class, we’re going to get started soon. I presume you all did the reading, so just prepare for the discussion we’re going to be having about it when the bell rings," he calls out to the class. Turning to face you, he questions quietly with genuine concern, "you okay? Did I push you too much for our first time?" 

Your mind swirls with thoughts. Our first time. The words fill you with giddy excitement. It’s just the two of you that know about this, the dirty things you were doing just minutes ago, very nearly getting caught. Knowing that this won’t be the only moment you guys are doing this, fills you with excitement.

"On the contrary, actually," you tease your teacher with a smile. "It was really nice honestly, but perhaps, you didn’t do enough." You bite your lip at the way Jimin's eyes darken and he looks away. "Get to class, Ms. L/N. The bell will ring any minute," he says lowly, jaw slightly clenched. Your core throbs at the sight and you head towards the door. 

"Goodbye, Mr. Park. Thank you!" you call out, catching sight of Lisa, who raises her eyebrows at you teasingly and mouths text me. Blushing, you nod at her before leaving the room to go to your next class.

Being "one of the smartest students on campus" comes with its perks. Like right now, for example. You always (somehow) come to class overprepared, so when your next teacher gives you a day to work on your project (which you've already finished), you head to the back of the room to text Lisa in private. 

from lisa: dude wtf was that you were literally talking to Mr. Park outside of ur class time with him

from lisa: omg wait don't tell me you fucked him

from lisa: did you

to lisa: NO I DID NOT OMG I wish tho lmao

to lisa: I was asking him for help on the paper he's assigning us and to proofread it and stuff before I submit it

from lisa: omg I forgot he assigned us that shit

to lisa: dude lmao its due in a week or so you have plenty of time

from lisa: ugh literally he's such a hottie why does he have to be so into teaching

to lisa: sis commitment to something is hot

from lisa: omg ur right wait a sec tho

from lisa: dude

from lisa: omg

from lisa: he definitely has a boner

Knowing that you were likely the cause of it, you shift in your seat cockily, smiling slyly to yourself while looking down.

to lisa: whAT

to lisa: wait how big is it

from lisa: ok I dont think he’s fully hard yet he's like semi hard but barely 

from lisa: LMFAO Y/N don't worry I think he’s packing seems kinda thick too

Taking in a deep breath, you look up at the ceiling. You imagine him slowly sinking into you and making you whimper at his size. Him seeing your face and growling, "if you’re really a good girl, you should be able to take it." You cross your legs tightly and rock up and down in a lame attempt to diminish the rising pressure between your thighs and look back down at your phone.

to lisa: pls thats so hot

from lisa: IKR I want him to r a i l me

to lisa: or eat me out… have you sEEN those lips of his wtf

from lisa: on god do not get me started

to lisa: pls i bet he’d be the type to tease you

Oh Lisa, if only you knew the truth behind those words.

from lisa: YES hes lowkey cocky bc he knows like the entire fucking population simps for him

from lisa: he’s def gonna make you beg to cum

to lisa: pls thats hot do not get me riled up in class istg

from lisa: too late i've already started babe ;)

You continue texting Lisa throughout the entirety of your class. Finally, you look at the clock and seeing that there are only a few more minutes till the class ends, you wrap up your conversation with her.

to lisa: hey btw i’m gonna be coming to lunch late… save me a seat at our regular spot?

from lisa: when ur best friend is a teachers pet :(( fiNE I guess I will

to lisa: love u!! xx

from lisa: love you too nerd xoxo

The bell finally rings, signaling the start of the lunch break and you immediately stand up and walk out the door, bidding your teacher goodbye and thanks.

Running into the bathroom, you do a quick check of your appearance. You tug up your skirt a bit higher and tuck in your shirt so that your outfit accentuates your curves. You glance at your face and notice how abnormally large your pupils are in comparison to most days. Jimin has completely ruined you today, just like he said he would. I'm going to wreck you, Y/N. His words echo in your ears as you make your way out to his classroom. Trying to ignore how uncomfortably wet your panties are, you knock on the door to his room. 

You hear a smooth voice answer with a, "come in," and take a deep breath before opening the door to see Jimin sitting behind his desk, leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head. He scans you up and down, eyes taking in every inch of your figure. "Nice outfit alterations," he notes, patting his laps as a hint for you to sit on it. You quickly lock the door and make your way to him, placing one leg on each side of him so that you’re now straddling his thighs. "Is this all for me?" he asks and you tuck your head down, suddenly shy now that all his attention is on you again. 

"Mhm, depends on whether you like it or not" you smile timidly, hands reaching out to play with his tie again. He laughs. "Princess, I’m conflicted. You do look very nice, all dolled up for me like this. It’d be a shame if I were to ruin your efforts. But on the other hand," he remarks, "you’ve very nearly crossed the line for indecent exposure. What if another teacher caught you like this? you would get in trouble, hm? And what if it were a student to see you like this? What would they think of you then?" He questions, causing your cheeks to burn at his words.

"They would think I- that I’m a whore. I- and that I dress up like this just so I can pass my classes," you whisper out, biting your lips in a combination of excitement and humiliation. You can feel yourself start to throb again and you start to rut against Jimin’s thighs. He shifts you over so that you are sitting on only one and slightly bounces his leg. The stimulation to your neglected cunt sends a shock running through your body and you squeeze your thighs around his.

"Look at you, so fucking desperate to cum. You think that you aren’t a little whore already, so needy for me this quickly, hm? Do you really think you deserve to cum?" He hums, admiring the way you’re worked up. He pushes up your skirt and slaps your thigh just underneath your ass. You shift away as a reaction, causing your clit to get the stimulation it finally deserved. The way your underwear rubs against your neglected bundle of nerves causes you to let out a groan and drop your head to Jimin's shoulder. He spanks you this time, making you yelp. "I asked you a question, doll."

"Mmhm, yeah," you whine out, "I deserve t- to cum, sir." At this point, your hips are moving on their own accord, shifting back and forth desperately against Jimin's thigh. He grabs your waist tightly, holding you still. "Look at me," he commands, bouncing his thigh. You mewl into his shoulder, the change in motion making you lose focus. He spanks you again, the sound echoing around the room. "Listen to directions, sweetheart. Or else you’ll get punished," he warns.

You lift your head to look at Jimin, faces just inches apart. His eyes scan over your face, lingering on your lips. Slowly, you lean towards him, closing the distance between you two. He gives into your eager kiss and you glide your hands up his firm chest to run your fingers through his hair. He starts bouncing you on his thigh and you groan into his mouth. Breaking apart panting, you place your forehead against Jimin’s, moving your hips back and forth harder to increase the pressure going to your clit.

"God, Y/N, you’re so wet," Jimin pants while looking down at the way your clothed pussy drags over his thigh. "I can feel you soaking through my slacks," he says, shifting you over. just like he said, there is now a wet spot on his thigh from where you just were. Thankfully, it’s barely noticeable, but if you focus enough, you can see it.

"What are you going to do about it, hm? I have classes to teach, meetings to attend. Do you want people to see the mess you made all over me?" He hisses, spanking you to elicit an answer. "N- no, sir. I’m s- sorry," you whisper out, eyes clenched, still rutting against him. You feel your orgasm bubbling up as every second passes.

"I don't think you're sorry, doll. Look at you making a mess all over me through your panties. You're absolutely soaked, so fucking desperate to cum," he tuts, clenching his thigh muscles purposely. You gasp and shove your head into the crook of Jimin's neck, letting out a low groan.

"Mr. Park, I'm so wet because of you. I- god, I wanna cum. please. I'm so close," you mewl into him, legs starting to tighten around his thigh.

You shut your eyes, feeling your impending orgasm build up. Right when you're about to let go, Jimin holds your hips in place tightly, preventing you from moving. Squeaking out, you make an attempt to shift your pussy over his thighs. It's no use because you can feel it start to drift away slowly and you look at him in need. Tears stinging the corners of your eyes, you plead, "S- sir I need you to touch me again. Please."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Jimin smiles cockily, lifting you onto his desk and spreading your legs after stripping you of your panties. You lean back so that you face the ceiling. Your eyes roll back once you feel him take your clit into his mouth. You moan and arch your back off of the desk, thighs involuntarily clenching around his head. 

"God, Mr. Park, yes! O- oh, fuck, please," you blabber out incoherently, your mind hazy and overwhelmed with pleasure. "More," you whimper out without thinking.

Jimin disconnects from your heat to look up at you, murmuring, "Greedy little slut wants it all, huh? Won't even ask nicely for it. Tell me what you want, Y/N. Beg for it, and I might just give it to you."

"God, I- I want it all, professor," you call out, wiggling your hips in search of stimulation that never comes. "Want you to stuff me with your f- fingers and lick my p- pussy and make me cum. Want you to fuck me r- raw with your fat cock from behind and sp- and spank me. Want you to ma- make me cry from cumming so hard just as much as you have from not letting me cum. A- and I want you to leave hi- hickies on my thighs so that if I bend over, p- people are gonna know how much of a cockslut I am, just for you."

"Yeah? Well, I can tell you this," Jimin says, fingers dancing up your thigh closer to your sick-ridden core. "You are a cockslut. So fucking dirty. Most people come to class to learn but it seems that you come here to get off." He inserts a finger into you and your walls immediately clamp down on it. He moves the digit in and out of you smoothly, your arousal allowing the smoothest of motions. "You like that, baby? Finally having something in that tight cunt of yours?" You nod at his question, adding on "want more, sir."

"Not enough? Greedy little bitch. look at you, so needy. What are you gonna do when I have my cock out, hm?" He shoves a second finger into you and starts curling them into your heat. You arch your back to the ceiling and he hovers over you. For a moment, there’s nothing but the squelch of his fingers in your wet pussy and your panting as he stares into your eyes. Jimin's eyebrows are furrowed and he’s biting his lip - he’s focusing on something.

That "something" becomes apparent when, all of a sudden, you nearly sit upright and let out a loud moan of pleasure, "Fuck, Mr. Park! right there." His fingers continue rubbing that special spot inside you repeatedly and your legs start shaking ever so slightly. You look back at him to see a smug smile on his face. "I found it," he chuckles as you writhe underneath him. He leans down to kiss you, lips melding together.

He keeps fingering you, bringing his thumb up to ghost over your clit ever so slightly to provide enough pleasure to bring you close to your orgasm but just not enough to make you cum. You whine against his lips and he breaks the kiss, asking "you want to cum, doll?" to which you weakly nod. "Then fuck yourself on my fingers. Show me how much of a little slut you are for me. How you’re a cocksleeve for me, so wet and needy as soon as I touch you, so ready for me to fuck you." He stills his digits inside of you and you buck your hips on them, rolling your pelvis repeatedly in an attempt to get to your orgasm. You reach down to provide some stimulation to your clit, but he smacks it away.

"Jim- professor, it’s not enough. I- I need more, please." Tears start welling up in your eyes at the thought of not cumming for the third time. Jimin kisses your temple, the gentle action reminding you that he’s not going to do something you can’t handle. "Please, Mr. Park. I wanna cum," you whine out, hips jerking back and forth in a pathetic attempt to chase after your high.

"Show me then, Y/N. how much you want it. A good girl can show me that she wants it bad enough and will make herself come on my fingers alone. She’s not greedy. She doesn’t need to touch herself too. She just needs my fingers to cum. I know you can be a good girl,  Y/N," he goads. "Can you show me what the pretty little face of yours looks like when you cum? I bet you’ll look so beautiful, even more than you are right now, all fucked out for me."

"Hhngh, sir I- I’m trying," you pant out. "It’s just not enough. I promise I'm a good girl, I swear. Please let me cum. Oh god, I wanna cum." At this point, you’re nearly crying. You haven't ever been edged like this and are desperate for release.

Jimin sees this and purposefully retracts his hand from your cunt covered in your honeyed juices, glistening in the lights of his classroom. "Professor Park, please," you choke out weakly, chest constricting in disappointment. With a soft smile, he brings his fingers up to his mouth and cleans them off, savoring the flavor of you. 

"Be a good girl for the rest of the day and then I’ll let you cum, baby," he hums. "You promise?" you plead, holding onto his arm desperately. 

"I promise, Y/N," he kisses you gently and you taste the remnants of yourself on his tongue, the filthy action causing your clit to throb even more. Combined with the way your cunt is still clenched tight in preparation for an orgasm that won’t come soon, you can definitely say that you can't wait for the school day to come to an end.

"Go to lunch, doll. I have a meeting soon. Don’t think of me too much, hm? Gotta keep those straight A’s the way they are," Jimin teases, pulling down your skirt slowly, fingers just grazing your thighs. He grabs your panties. "Oh, and I think I'll keep these for now," he says cheekily, putting them in his pocket. "They didn’t seem to be doing their job when you were riding my thigh."

You watch him in shock, cheeks flushing red hot. "I- okay. uh, I’m going to lunch now, Jimin. Have a good lunch and meeting, I guess?" you say awkwardly, shuffling to the door with him, tugging your skirt down. 

"Jimin? We’re on a first-name basis already, Y/N? Don’t let anybody hear you call me that in class, baby," he winks, holding the door open and you nod, preoccupied with the little "situation" your skirt just barely hides. You can feel yourself still leaking down your inner thighs, and pray that nobody’s going to notice when you walk into the dining hall.

"Ugh! Bitch, what took you so long?" Lisa exclaims when you sit down next to her with your lunch. You pout. "I wasn't even gone for that long."

"Ha! That long, my ass. You were gone for more than half of the break! I had to tell Jaebum and his cronies to fuck off on my own! I’m not as intimidating when you’re not around, though, so I don’t think it worked. They’ll probably come over again soon." Lisa rolls her eyes. You snort, "One of them probably likes you, that’s why they keep bothering you."

"They just like any female and will take what they can get," Lisa mutters, "but anyway! How was your meeting with Mr. Park? Did you solve his boner problem?" she wiggles her eyebrows.

You clear your throat. "No, Lisa I did not. I'm obviously above that," you say in a sarcastic tone. "I simply offered to," you tease. Lisa squeals and slaps your arm in response. "But for real though," she says. "Anyone that gets to hook up with mister Park Jimin automatically wins at life," and you hum in agreement.

You scan at the dining hall around you and catch the eye of Jaebum sitting with his friend group. He winks at you and you roll your eyes and stand up, "come on Lisa, let’s go. Those assholes are going to come over any second if we stay here any longer." You drag her to your guys’ next class.

The bell rings and the two of you burst out of the classroom. Thank god that’s over. Only one more class left, you think to yourself, gripping your books tighter to your chest in excitement.

"Jesus fuck, since when were you this eager to get to the last class of the day, Y/N? I thought you loved staying in school for as long as possible," Lisa huffs out. You steer her into the direction of your locker, right across from Jimin’s classroom. 

"I'm picking up my books, you dummy. Be grateful I paid for this locker because otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to put your books here." You put in the code and exchange your books while Lisa checks herself in the magnetic mirror attached to the door. you have to be careful when bending over because otherwise you’ll flash the entire school, so you do a weird sit-squat thing. "Geeking out over lockers? You act as if you’re still in high school, Y/N," Lisa teases. "Only during the school day," you wink up at her.

Lisa spots someone through the reflection of the mirror and groans out. "Incoming," she warns, rolling her eyes and turning around. "Wha-" you begin when you get cut off by a smooth voice behind you.

"Damn, L/N. didn’t know you wore skirts this short on campus. Looks good on you," the guy winks. "But it would look even better on my bedroom floor." You hold back a gag and turn to Lisa, raising your eyebrows in exasperation. 

"Wow, I see the originality," Lisa says in the most sickeningly sweet voice. "What do you want, Jaebum?" He chuckles and places an arm over your head, leaning over you. "Well, I’m having a party tonight, and it would be amazing if you two little ladies could attend. Be mine and Jackson’s plus one?" he says. You’re about to say no when he leans in closer to you, inches away from your face, "plus you can get the high-quality drinks for free, not the cheap booze we leave out for the randos who show up."

"You’re probably gonna drug them or something. No thanks, dickwad." you huff out after a second’s hesitation, pushing him away, ready to go to your next class. "Nah, baby. I may be a fuckboy but at least I've got morals. Whaddya say? You get me off, I get you off? Maybe make you cum so many times it starts hurting? You look like you haven’t been able to get an orgasm in a while, you’re so uptight, L/N," Jaebum smirks. 

"You fuckin-" you start to hiss out but you’re shut off again. This time it’s by someone different. Jimin. "Mr. Lim, I don’t think it’s necessarily appropriate to discuss your sexual endeavors while in an academic setting. I’ll be letting you off with a warning for now." He turns to you, eyes flitting across your DIY skimpy outfit. You feel your cunt leak more of your honeyed juices under his piercing gaze and clamp your thighs together to keep them from dripping down your thighs. "And Ms. L/N, I expected better from you. You’re not typically one to do these things in a school environment. Get to class, the two of you," he says, turning back to his classroom.

"Oh," he adds, "and Y/N. fix your outfit. I would hate to see you get dress coded by a teacher who isn’t as lenient." You, Lisa, and Jaebum stare at his back in shock as he heads inside his classroom. 

"Well, uh, that just happened," Lisa states, turning to you. "Ready to go?" you nod numbly, mind swirling with embarrassment and excitement as you tug down your skirt. The two of you walk to the last class of the day while Jaebum calls out, "my place after 11, L/N! I’ll be waiting!", making you wince. Great, now a bunch of people are gonna think you’re hooking up with him.

The last bell of the day finally rings, and you head to your locker after bidding Lisa goodbye. You put your books in your locker and head to the bathroom to fix your clothes. You decide to tease Jimin even more by adjusting your skirt so that it ends just at the bottom of your ass. It’s a terribly risky decision; if you walk too fast, you risk flashing everyone. You’ve tried to wipe the slick off the juncture of your thighs, but it keeps getting replaced with more of your arousal.

You speed walk down the halls and fling open the door to see that Jimin isn’t in his classroom - or so you think. Once you take a few steps into the room, you hear the door shut behind you and lock. Jimin looks at you up and down. "You didn’t fix your outfit, Ms. L/N. Looks like I’ll have to dress code you for indecent exposure then," he hums, heading to his desk to take out a slip of paper.

"Wait Jimin, what? I thought we were- um. You know, going to-" you splutter out, realizing he was actually serious. You can’t have this on your academic record! What would your parents think?

"Going to what? Fuck? Seems like you already have someone else for that, Y/N," he shakes his head, grabbing a pen. You reach forward quickly to stop him, hand, gripping his forearm in desperation. 

"No Mr. Park, I- I never told Jaebum yes. I just-" you try to explain, but Jimin cuts you off. "You what?" he asks bitingly, taking you by surprise. "Did you think that you could just come back and hop on my dick after nearly making out with another guy? God, you really are a slut, aren’t you?"

You rub your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the steadily mounting pressure in your core at Jimin’s words. "Look at you, I told you to fix your outfit and you fucking pulled up your skirt. You pulled it up. You don’t listen to me, talk to your friends about how much you want me to rail you, and yet let other guys make plans to hook up with you. And you expect me to let you cum after all of that?" he continues, noticing the effect he has on you. "You really think I should let you cum, Y/N? I'll tell you what I think. I think I should leave you like this, dripping and needy for me. So ready to get fucked by me but not being able to."

Your eyes widen, "no, please professor, no!" 

"Should I jack off in front of you and not let you touch me? Maybe then would you learn your lesson? Or maybe I should spank your ass till it’s blue you’re unable to sit. Would that work, hm? What if I just send you back to the dorms? You could ask Jaebum to touch you, even if he can’t make you half the mess I can," he continues, pushing you onto his desk. He grabs your jaw and tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him, humiliated, with tears in your eyes.

"Aw," he pouts sarcastically, "is the baby crying? Because I didn’t let her cum? Well, princess, you knew what you were getting yourself into. Little cocksluts like you don’t deserve to cum so easily."

"P- professor, please. You can punish me. Teach me a lesson. B- but just please let me cum." You whimper out, attempting to cross your legs together to assuage your aching clit, but Jimin stops you by holding your knee with his other hand.

He slowly trails his hands up your bare thigh, admiring the way your soft skin seems to get chills at his touch. He pushes you back onto the desk and you prop yourself up your elbows to look at him. "Are you a cockslut, Y/N?" he asks, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers. 

"Y- yes Mr. Park. I- I’m nothing but a hole for you to fuck," you whimper meekly as he pushes up your skirt. He pushes apart your thighs and tugs you to the edge of the desk. "Damn right you are. Nothing but a little whore that I can use to get off. I’m going to fuck you here in school like you’ve never been fucked before. And this dick you’ve been thinking about all this time, it’s going to finally be in you, and I better not hear any complaints," Jimin growls, pumping his length in his hand. "No sir," you whimper out.

"You on the pill?" he asks, to which you reply with a yes. He teases your slit with the pink head of his cock and your entrance flutters at the touch. "But on another note, tell me if you want to stop. I don’t want to push you too much."

You smile, "Jimin, you’re being too kind. I promise I'll tell you. But I did say before perhaps you weren’t doing enough. Mr. Park, I want you to ruin me," you bite your lips, mimicking his words from earlier in the day. He cocks his head in amusement. 

"Don’t worry princess, that’s exactly what I’ll be doing." Without warning, he thrusts forward into your heart, barely giving you time to adjust to his size. The girth of his cock stretches open your cunt with painful pleasure. Once he’s sheathed inside you, you can feel him very near your cervix. 

You let out a shaky breath but it’s cut off as he continues thrusting in and out of you, wet slaps echoing through the room. "M- Mr. Park-" you moan incoherently. 

"Fucking take it, Y/N. You wanted me to ruin you? Well here I am doing it; be fucking grateful." he rolls his hips into yours, hands gripping your sides harshly.

"Th- thank you Mr. Park, s- so much," you nearly sob out, almost crying at the relief of being fucked. You’re so turned on that your walls are clenching around Jimin’s dick so hard that he grips your jaw harshly. Gritting his teeth, he spits, "loosen up, babe. You’re so fuckin’ tight." You whine and try to relax but the stimulation Jimin’s providing has your eyes rolling back instead.

He snakes a hand down to your stomach and under your skirt, circling your throbbing clit. Your pussy flutters at the stimulation and you bite your lip harshly. He changes his angle slightly, causing your thighs to start shaking. His precum and your honeyed juices drip out your sopping cunt, the sound of wet slaps echoing around the room.

"Mmmmh," you moan out softly, back arching slightly. You can feel Jimin hitting your g-spot with impeccable accuracy each time. Doubled with the way his thumb is rubbing circles on your sensitive clit, you feel yourself reaching your orgasm. You try to suppress the giveaway signs of your impending release, knowing that Jimin, in order to "teach you a lesson" of sorts, is likely to take it away from you, so you attempt to just breathe out, "Jimin, fuck, it feels so good."

"Yeah, you like that, baby?" he thrusts into you deeper and harder and you bite your upper lip to stop your moans from slipping out. "Come on Y/N, let me hear those pretty little moans. Let everyone else know how well I'm fucking you, how good I make you feel," Jimin urges.

As soon as he utters those words, you give in, letting high pitched whimpers spill from your lips. Your pussy lets out filthy squelching noises at each of his thrusts, your wetness dripping down your ass and onto the desk. You feel your walls tightening around his cock and try to fight it off, but Jimin can already tell of your impending orgasm. He pulls out of you, leaving your warm and soaked cunt open to the air.

"Fuck," you exclaim in frustration, bringing your hands up to cover your face so Jimin doesn’t see your face, tears starting to spill down your face. It’s frustrating you so much that he won’t let you cum. That he enjoys seeing you whimpering and teary-eyed for him. Your thighs haven’t stopped shaking and Jimin parts them after you close them. He pulls down your arms and smiles evilly. 

"Well, what do we have here," he exclaims, "looks like the baby finally did start crying. Come on, Y/N, I thought you had it in you. But look at how you’re spread out on this desk for me, such a fucking mess. I bet you like it, huh? Dirtying up my desk with that cunt of yours."

"I need to cum, Mr. Park," you choke out, trying to gather your thoughts. "I need to cum now." your teacher’s eyes narrow and he grips your thighs harshly. "What did you say to me?" he asks, a tone laced with dangerous amusement. 

"You heard me. I-," you hesitate for a moment, but decide you’ve already put yourself through enough teasing today. You muster up your courage before saying, "I want you to make me cum now." 

There’s a moment’s silence before you add on shamelessly, "o- or if it’s too much to ask of you, I- I’ll just find someone else to help me do it. Maybe Jaebum? He promised a good time a- and said he would let me cum as many times as I want."

Jimin grabs you by the chin and pulls you up. "You’re such a fucking brat, Y/N." Shifting his hand so it’s gripping your throat, he mutters, "you don’t fucking learn, do you? I thought you were smart, hm? But has the need for sex made you lose your sense? Made you turn into a dumb little bitch, ready to bend over for anyone because you’re so horny? And here I was thinking you were better than that. That you had standards. Perhaps I was wrong, hm? Would you like to tell me?"

You try to look down, away from his piercing glare, but he turns your chin to look back at him. Humiliation courses through your veins as Jimin’s gaze wanders down your body scathingly. "Look at you," he coos sarcastically. "Y/N, baby, you’re such a fucking mess. Pathetic." Suddenly, he lifts you off the desk and bends you over it, cheek pressing the top and ass exposed over the edge to him. You whimper at the feeling of your shirt being stickied from your arousal left on the table from just a few minutes ago. You try moving away from it, but Jimin holds you in place. 

"Are you afraid that everyone else is going to see the mess on your shirt, Y/N? Is that why you’re trying to move?" he hovers over you from behind. "Or perhaps," he continues, hot breath tickling over the shell of your ear, "you want to continue being a brat. Make me punish you until you’re begging for me to make it stop."

He spanks you, the sound echoing across the room before you register the sting of his action. You clench involuntarily and let out the slightest of whimpers. "Fucking hell, are you this turned on? Making noises even if I don’t touch your filthy little pussy?" he asks, smacking your behind again. You bite down on your lip to avoid giving him the answer he already knows.

"Count for me. Be good and maybe I’ll finally let you cum." he commands, spanking your right ass cheek again. "O- one!" you groan. He spanks your left side, the stinging sensation causing you to leak more arousal. "Louder, Y/N. Let me hear you," he hisses, hand in your hair, and pulls you up slightly. "T- two," you stammer. another slap echoes across the room. "Three! God Mr. Park, please." At this point, you’re not even sure what you’re begging for; your mind is numb with lust.

"T- twenty! Agh, fuck, please," you squirm under Jimins grasp. The throbbing of your clit has increased tenfold, and you can practically feel the shaking of your thighs through the desk. 

Jimin slips his hand between your legs, feeling the soft flesh of your inner thighs slicked with your juices. "You’re fucking dripping, Y/N. Look at you. Did getting punished turn you on this much, doll?" He swipes up your slit, teasing your fluttering hole. You scrunch your eyes in displeasure and try to back up into him, only to be stopped by a harsh smack onto your already throbbing cunt. You yelp and flop back on the desk, cheek pressing the surface.

You feel him rubbing his dick against your folds and sigh in relief. Suddenly, Jimin slams into you from behind with no warning causing you to let out a harsh groan. "Ah, professor!" you exclaim, balling your fists in pleasure at finally being stimulated. His cock seems even bigger from this angle, and your entrance stings delectably at the way he splits you open.

"You feel how tight your pussy is, princess? How tight it is for me? Nobody else makes you feel this needy. Nobody," Jimin mutters in your ear after pulling you up. He pulls your head back by your hair, exposing your neck, which he plants wet kisses on. He reaches down in front of you, tracing an achingly slow path from your stomach to your slit with his fingers. You’re reaching your orgasm at an embarrassingly fast rate due to all of the edging you’re been through, so when Jimin finally brushes over your clit, it’s no surprise that your walls tighten even more instantaneously.

"Ji- ‘m gonna cum," you moan wantonly. "Yeah? Is my little slut finally going to cum?" He hisses out at the way you tighten around him. You nod desperately, gripping his arm rubbing figure eights over your sensitive bud. 

"Oh god, Jimin, I feel it coming. Please please please let me cum. I'm being good for you, Mr. Park, please let me cum," you sob out incoherently as Jimin continues railing you from behind. You feel the ridges of his cock brushing your walls and shudder at his ministrations.

"Let go, princess, I got you. Cum for me. Tell me how good I’m making you feel," Jimin snarls, snapping his hips into yours, eager to get you to finally melt in his arms. You feel your orgasm crashing over you and you clamp down on his dick, legs shaking in relief. Jimin's grip on your hair tightens as he feels you pulsing around him, getting impossibly tight. Nevertheless, he continues thrusting into you. 

You mewl, trying to shift away from Jimin's hold as his fingers return to your clit, rubbing figure eights into them, "J- too m- much," you whimper out, straining against his arms.

"Yeah?" his smooth voice asks, "but I thought you wanted to cum, princess? Didn't you? I need to cum, Mr. Park. I need to cum now." He mocks you. “Well, that's what I'm doing doll. I'm. Making. You. Cum," he emphasizes each word with a harsh thrust, jolting you forward.

You're being reduced to a mess, tears streaming down your face and slick dripping down your thighs. You can feel your gummy walls tightening more and more on their own accord, without even trying. Without even realizing it, you've changed from trying to move away from Jimin's fingers to grinding down on his dick.

Jimin, however, notices this. "God, you're such a slut, Y/N. Weren't you just asking me to stop?" He raises your left leg onto the desk, allowing him to have more access to your folds. He slaps your clit when you don’t give a response and you yelp, clenching down on his dick. He slaps you a couple more times, and your cunt drips even more, making your thighs sticky with your honeyed juices. You can feel yourself nearing your orgasm once again from his motions.  

Suddenly, Jimin pushes you back on his desk and begins hammering into you from behind. "You're going to cum again, aren't you? Filthy little girl, didn't you just cum? Are you really that needy for some dick?" You try to hold back a whimper from his words but it slips from your lips. "You're really a whore, aren't you, baby?" 

In response, Jimin spanks you, and you yelp. "Keep doing that," he hisses when you clench down on his dick. "You like being punished, don't you?" You nod meekly in response. He smacks your already reddened ass again and you hiss at the stinging sensation. Paired with the pleasure his cock is giving you, thrusting so deep into you, you can feel yourself practically getting high off the feeling.

Jimin feels you cumming before you realize it yourself. His hips nearly stutter at the way your walls have clenched around his dick. He opts to rut his hips into yours, no longer being able to thrust in and out due to how tight you are. He reaches under your body to rub tight circles on your throbbing clit and you start cumming again, clenching erratically around his dick. "You cumming, Y/N? Be a good girl and let go for me. Get this fat cock all wet," he commands. You ball up your fists and dig your nails into your palms, pleasure coursing through your veins. Riding the course of your high, you wish for nothing more but to be in the moment. 

When you come down from your orgasm, Jimin finally pulls his hard dick out of you. You feel his precum and your cum drip down your thighs. Whining, you rub them together to get rid of the feeling but it only serves to make you stickier. Jimin parts your thighs and runs a hand up them to cup your pussy, pausing to feel your cunt still clenching from the aftershocks of your orgasm. He smacks your abused heat, jolting you forwards and causing you to grit your teeth in overstimulation. 

He flips you over, spreading your legs open. He leans over you, rubbing the tip of his dick over your swollen and throbbing clit, making you shiver. "Prof- professor, I can’t-" you begin but are interrupted my Jimin quickly shoving into you. Gasping, you clench down onto his dick, eyes rolling back into your head.

"You can, Y/N, and you fucking will," he grunts harshly, snapping his hips into yours. You grasp at his arm after feeling him in you deeper than before. The head of his cock nearly kisses your cervix and his impossibly hard dick stretches your tight cunt open even more, making you wince at the pleasurable pain.

"I- oh god, I really can’t. It feels-" you choke out through your tears. "It feels too- oh!" your head rolls back as Jimin hooks your legs over his shoulders, creating a new angle of penetration. He rubs your clit ever so slightly, the abused bundle of nerves pulsing under his touch. "It feels too what?" he hisses, rolling his hips upward so that his tip just barely grazes your g-spot. Too good, you want to say, but pleasure is clouding your mind and you can’t get the words out.

"That’s it, baby," he hums, "taking my fat cock so well even though you’re so- shit, you’re so fucking tight. Are you gonna cum again, hm? Cream all over my dick and make another mess?" you’re being reduced to a blathering mess, Jimin’s name rolling off the tip of your tongue. "Yeah? Can’t even hold it back a little? Even though I let you cum so many times, you still want more? Greedy little bitch," he spits at you.

When you clench down at his words, he starts pistoning his hips into yours, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoing around the room. His cock seems to be splitting you open even more, and you can feel every pulse of his dick on your walls. "Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to cum," he groans.

"I- I’m close too, Mr. Park. It- fuck, it feels really good," you breathe out as Jimin leans down over you. He slows his hips down, opting to roll his hips smoothly and brushing over your g-spot with painful accuracy. Hovering over you, his stare bores into yours, eyes flitting down to your lips, reddened and swollen from you biting them. You whimper and tilt your chin up towards him and he leans his head down to yours.

He lets his lips ghost over yours, warm breath brushing over your lips as his hips grind into yours. "P- please," you beg, and Jimin finally relents and melds his lips to yours, bringing the two of you into a searing kiss, groaning as you near each of your highs. You break the kiss to gasp out, "I’m c- cumming again Mr. Park."

"Yeah?" he breathes surprisedly, "your little pussy’s that sensitive that you’re gonna- fuck, you’re cumming already? So quickly?" he leans down as your orgasm washes over you, this one hitting you slowly and harshly. You arch your back into Jimin’s chest, hands gripping at the collar of his shirt. His thumb continues to gently rub over your clit, causing you to roll your eyes back into your head at the overstimulation. You start shaking underneath him, squirming to get away from the overload of senses, but he holds you in place as you ride your high for what seems to be like an eternity.

"That's a good girl," he soothes as you continue to writhe underneath him. "Look at you, stuffed so full of my cock it’s making you cry. Does that feel good, darling?" you nod, sobbing. When your orgasm starts to fade away, spots of white dotting your vision, he still doesn’t stop thrusting into you. 

You bite your lip, and seeing that he’s close, you whisper, "M- Mr. Park, I want you t- to cum too. I- in me." His hips stutter at your words. "Shit, yeah? You’d let me do that?" 

You nod, "want you to fill me up w- with your cum and s- stuff me so full of it that it’s gonna be in me for days. And I wanna fe- fuck, I wanna feel you in me even when I’m alone, professor." At your words, Jimin lets out a slightly animalistic growl and leans in. "You’d like that, huh?" he asks. "Me fucking you so well till you can’t think straight? Putting my cum in you so that when you walk out of here, it’s dripping down your pretty little thighs, making you look like the filthy little slut you really are? You think you deserve that?"

"Please, sir, I really want it," you beg, "please." With that, Jimin attaches his lips onto yours again, grinding his hips into yours even deeper as he finally orgasms. He doesn’t stutter his hips as he continues his ministrations, even though he can feel your walls desperately squeezing around him, milking his cock of its seed. You feel the thick ropes of his warm cum painting your inner walls every second. Each time he pulls out slightly, a bit of it leaks out of your cunt, dripping down your ass onto his desk. He continues fucking his cum into you until he’s satisfied with the way you’re shivering under him.

For a moment, all is still, nothing but the sound of the two of your breathing filling the air as you stare into each other’s eyes. "Um-," you begin, and Jimin quickly looks away, brushing his thumb over his plump lips. So that just happened. I fucked my teacher. I fucked Park Jimin.

"Wait here," he mutters, making your heart drop in disappointment. You nod, offering him a weak smile. Seeing this, Jimin reassures you, "don’t worry, I’m not leaving you. I’ll be right back," and cautiously steps out of the room after clothing himself.

You take this moment to recollect what exactly happened. Okay, so you just fucked your teacher. It still hasn’t sunk in yet, and probably won’t till you leave to clean yourself and look at the marks he’s made on your thighs and ass. You can’t help the giddiness you feel, like a kid who got the best candy bar in the world. After all, you got to hook up with your crush - in fact, the entire campus’s crush. The door creaks open and Jimin returns with some paper towels and wipes.

"H- hey," he smiles nervously. For the first time, he’s the one that’s stuttering. "Let me clean you up. It’s the least I could do after putting you through so much today." He spreads your legs gently, cheeks flushed, and begins wiping off the slick and cum between your thighs. 

"Jimin, you didn’t do anything bad, calm down. Well, I mean you fucked your student? But other than that you’re fine. I really liked it," you try to explain, stumbling over your words. He looks at you incredulously, but shakes his head, smiling. "I don't want to tell anyone about this," you continue, "and I highly doubt you will, so this can stay as our little secret." 

"Well looks like someone got fucked a little too happy. How come you never smile this much when I’m teaching, hm?" Jimin jokes after he finishes cleaning you up, kissing your knee gently. He hands you your thong that he’s kept for half the day and tells you to put it on. 

"You’re still going to the party, right? Jaebum’s?" he asks and you shrug. "You should go. Have a fun time there, drinking and all that stuff." He leans into you, whispering into your ear, "and if that rascal wants to get into your pants, he’s going to see your soaked panties covering up that precious little cunt of yours stuffed with all that cum of mine. Maybe then he’ll finally back off," he smirks.

You blush, "maybe, Mr. Park. You know, you’re pettier than I thought you’d be." Standing up, to face him, he pulls you in by the waist till your chests are touching. You wrap your arms around his neck and he leans in, whispering, "well, Y/N, I don’t think you knew too much about me in the first place." Closing the gap between the two of you, you give him a peck on the lips, which quickly turns into a more heated kiss, lips melding together and tongues colliding. When you break apart, a faint blush on the two of your cheeks, Jimin smiles fondly at you and you look away.

"Well," you hum contentedly, "if I don’t know much about you now, I’d at least like to get to know you better in the future." 

"One day," he breathes out. "One day."

Your grin, disentangling yourself from his arms. "One day soon, I hope. I’ve got to go now, but I’ll see you next class. Goodbye prof- Jimin. Have a great weekend."

He smiles softly, walking you to the door. "You too, Y/N. If you do end up going to that party, have fun. Stay safe."

[geminil0vr]

something you shouldn’t have been doing (part II) | fred weasley

check out part one in my masterlist, or you might be a tad lost!

summary; still reeling over what happened with fred, you end up pushing everyone away and making up excuses. when you go to ron's dorm to apologise and reconcile, you don't expect his brother, fred, to open the door instead, and invite (pull) you in.

tagged; @weasleyswildin , @avengersassemblee

word count; 5.1k

content; smut, embarrassment, lying, reader has fucking ptsd from being caught PLS, ron being soft but also annoyed at reader, pranks, fred being hot, making out, anticipation, oral (female receiving), teasing, flirting, joking, missionary sex.

a/n; hi, here’s the long awaited (by like, two people) part two that's been sitting, half-finished, in my drafts !! tbh i’m not too happy about my characterisation of fred in this considering he’s usually always cracking jokes and is never this serious, but at the same time when i tried to use more humour it didn’t really fit this style of fic !! sorry guys. and also sorry for the low quality gif :( i listened to the album wasteland, baby by hozier on repeat while writing this YES. also god i'm way happier with my writing in this i spent hours and hours on it fuck

you hadn’t been able to look him in the eyes since it happened a week ago. since he came into your room and caught you. since he came into your room and left you with the fading memory of his hands on your skin. if you weren’t so humiliated, that would definitely have been going in the wank bank. but you hadn’t dared finish or touch yourself since then, just in case. though it was becoming a real struggle when all you could think about was him, and his bloody teasing, and his bloody hands, and his bloody face.

in the great hall you hardly spoke anymore, and during free periods you preferred to hide out in the library than somewhere he could find you. fred always found a way of bumping into you, especially many times after the ‘incident’, but you said you were slammed with homework, 'maybe another time'. it had been weighing on you a little, since with this you also ended up distancing yourself from your best friend, ron weasley.

speaking of which — three quiet knocks sounded from your dormitory’s door and you braced yourself, just as anytime someone knocked these days. well, at least this person had more social decadence than fred. you gave the few remaining girls in the room a nod, a silent offer to get up and see who it was so they wouldn’t have to.

thankfully, as you swung it open, your best friend was there, lanky arms swinging by his side nervously. he’d always been terrified to knock at the girls dormitory. ‘what if someone’s naked in there?’ he once told you, burying his head in his hands after he’d just shouted your name repeatedly from the common room to coax you out. and you clipped him ‘round the head, letting him know that ‘if someone was naked, then no one would open the door’.

peeking around the corner to assure that he wasn’t interrupting anything, his nerves faded and he crossed his arms over his chest. “y/n, fancy seeing you ‘ere.” he said, bitterly.

“well... it is my dorm room.” you narrowed your eyes playfully, but you knew exactly why he had an attitude.

“just would’ve thought, since you’ve become such an expert in avoiding me, that you’d somehow — well, avoided me!”

“i don’t know what you’re on about.” you shrugged bashfully. you definitely did.

“bloody hell, y/n, you‘ve been avoiding me and you — you bloody well know it!” he exclaimed, and you looked back at the curious girls in your dorm before putting your hands up in defense to him, stepping out and shutting the door behind you.

“no, i bloody well haven’t! just been busy, is all!” you whisper-shouted, ignoring the eyes peering up at you from the common room sofas.

“we used to eat lunch everyday together! you, me, fred, george, ‘mione, harry, even lee sometimes —”

“merlin, yeah, i get it, i'm —”

“but now, you rush in to get a piece of toast and run back out again with some borin’ excuse!” he huffed.

“i’m really, truly sorry, ron. but i’m not lying! it’s just... work has been getting on top of me.” you lied straight to his face. but what else could you tell him?

‘hey bestie, your brother came into my room while i was touching myself and he teased me and now i can’t stop thinking about him and his dumb, fucking, stupid, idiot, face!’. yeah, surely that would go down perfectly.

“are you even listening to me?” you snapped out of your daze, only to realise ron had been talking to you. but he hurriedly pushed past that. “i was just saying that if you need to talk, i’ll be in my room. or go to hermione. just stop acting weird, alright?”

with that, your best friend walked away, leaving you with a pit of guilt churning at the bottom of your stomach. you tossed and turned that same friday night, thinking of the usual ways to make him less pissed off with you. if it were you, he'd buy you hot chocolate. and for him, you'd... perfect! when saturday afternoon came around, you figured the hogsmeade weekend would give you the perfect chance to catch up with ron, buy him a bunch of sweets from honeydukes, and all would be forgiven.

knocking on his dormitory door twice, you were relieved for a second when the door opened and you saw a flash of ginger hair. until you realised which head it belonged to.

“fred?” your eyes widened.

“y/n.” he tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

clearing your throat, you looked into the room behind him and ran a hand through your hair anxiously. “is ron here?”

“no, but i am.” he grinned.

finally meeting his gaze, you gave him a suspicious look and attempted to push aside the tightness in your stomach. just act casual. casual. casual. that word spinning in your head sounded less and less coherent each time you thought of it.

“why are you here? this isn’t your dorm.”

he leaned his shoulder against the door frame with a smug smile, crossing his arms over his dark green, knitted sweater, and crossing his legs for stability. “brilliant observation, y/n,” fuck. if he kept saying your name you’d be obligated to jump him right in the doorway. “i’m actually just waiting for him to get back.”

you didn’t quite believe him, but whatever he was doing in there, ron could surely deal with it. you didn’t need to spend any more time with fred than necessary, not these days. “shit, he left already? uh, i suppose i’ll just wait in my dorm; just let him know i knocked.” you nodded curtly.

“you like pranks, right?”

“did you even hear a word i said?”

“shit, he left already? uh, i suppose i’ll just wait —” he mimicked you, and you shot a glare at him.

“yeah, yeah. so, let him know.” you smiled tightly and moved to make your way back to your dorm, but he grabbed your forearm tightly.

turning and glancing down at his grip, cheeks burning, you looked up at him. “i need an answer. pranks: yes or no?”

to shut him up, and to stop from going into heatstroke, you decided against telling the truth. “no.”

“brilliant!” and with that, he pulled you into the room and shut the door, pulling away as quick as he had first touched you. the red curtains were still drawn, making it a little dark inside, and you squinted to look around. shite. now you were stuck, inside a room, which had beds, and additionally, fred fucking gideon fucking weasley.

“i need an absolutely unbiased prank review. i’m trying to scare the shite out of ron.” you bit the inside of your cheek so hard you thought it’d bleed.

“and what makes you think i’m qualified, fred? i’m his best friend, i can just warn him, and everything’ll be ruined.”

“yeah, but, you wouldn’t do that to me, would you, y/n?” he grinned cheekily, rushing over to ron’s bed and gripping one of the four posters. he was right. but nevertheless — how on earth were you going to get out of this one? he seemed relaxed, maybe he’d forgotten about it already! a guy like fred always had a lot of experience, he probably mixed you up with someone else in his mind, or just didn’t care. now that, was perfect! he’d forgotten everything, and you could just be casual!

“okay, watch this.” fred snickered. “i charmed his bed so that when he lies down, it’ll feel like he’s on water.”

your eyes widened. “fred! that’s awful! you should know how terrified he is of the ocean!”

with not even a smidge of acknowledgement, he flopped onto the bed on his back, and you watched in disbelief as the mattress rippled underneath him and his body swayed along with it. magic still astounded you sometimes.

“where on earth did you learn this?” 

“lee taught it to us!” by ‘us’, he was surely speaking of him and george, like usual. it was as if he wasn't aware of the pronoun ‘me’, “he did it to his grandma a bunch of times. almost gave her a heart attack.”

“his grandma?” you gaped, before you realised who you were speaking to. of bloody course. you rubbed your slightly clammy palms against your skirt and adjusted your black sweater, taking the opportunity to look away from him and around the room.

noticing your lack of focus on him, he hopped off the bed and approached you to gain your attention, whereas you stepped back. he frowned, but recovered.

“try it.”

“try what?”

“the bed. actually feels nice when you’re expecting it.”

“you’re not getting me in that bed if it’s the last thing i do.” you shook your head, before realising the euphemism you created, heat flushing through your entire body.

“i’m not?” he gave you a smug yet challenging look.

you cleared your throat, “no.”

“i’ll throw you onto it.” you swallowed. if he went anywhere near your waist or your hips, you’d surely die. glancing around for any possible escape routes and coming up empty, you sighed.

“fine.” having no other option, you marched over to the bed, pulling down your mid-thigh skirt and cursing yourself out for wearing high socks instead of tights. lying down cautiously onto the mattress, you gasped as it rippled beneath you, and couldn’t help but chuckle. you crossed your legs and pulled down your skirt once more, closing your eyes. “it is kinda nice. yeah.” fred swallowed, eyeing the movement of your hands.

“for once, you’re not being stubborn. can’t believe that the y/n y/l/n actually admitted that my prank is pretty cool.” at the sound of his voice, you opened your eyes and sat up as the bed swayed beneath you once more.

“i said kinda nice, but whatever helps you sleep at night, fred.” you smiled softly, eyes creasing. until you actually thought about fred, and what he did when he wasn’t sleeping at night, and your face fell.

“so, now that’s done with — are we gonna talk about how weird you’ve been acting?”

you almost choked on your own saliva. “you what?” your whole body went stiff, as you slowly swung your legs over the edge of the bed and planted them firmly on the carpeted floor.

“you know what i’m going on about. you haven’t looked me in the eye for two weeks.” 

“already been over this with ron,” you glanced away and at the door behind him, “i’ve been busy with homework."

he stepped closer and your cheeks flamed, standing up shakily. “and, what work is that, y/n?”

why did he have to say your name like that? you had to get out of there. now. 

quickly stepping away from him and the bed, you turned so your back was to the door, hands behind you. what were your chances of just bolting out of it and not having him come running after you? and of course he had to have those fucking long legs, like a bloody horse. he'd outrun you by 25 miles per hour. that was how far a horse could run. git.

“you know, transfiguration, potions, defense of care of magical thingies.”

“hmm?” he hummed, making another step towards you. you stepped back, closer to the door now. “is that right?”

“uhuh.” you croaked.

“uhuh.” he nodded skeptically.

“and like, a bunch of other important things, too.”

“yeah, i get it.” he had a gleam in his eye. “but let’s say, let’s just theorise here, that, that wasn’t the reason why you were avoiding me. that it was something else.” the corners of his mouth quirked up.

“not avoiding, busy. and i really should get going.”

he stepped closer, again, and you shuffled back a little until your back hit the wooden door, and your eyes went wide. you gripped the doorknob behind you. “right. but, if it was something else, then would you think it’d maybe have something to do with what happened in your room, last week? maybe?”

you sucked in air through your teeth, wincing and shaking your head. “i don’t recall.” you swallowed.

“oh, you don’t, do you? awful shame, you want me to recount it or —”

“no, no, that won’t be necessary!” you gulped, avoiding his gaze, your voice now coming out meekly, "you didn't tell anyone, did you?"

he furrowed his brows in slight confusion, "'course not," then tilted his head, "preferred to keep it to myself. wouldn't want anyone other than me thinking of you like that."

you gulped again and twisted the doorknob, until he stepped even closer, and his hand went up to stop you, gently grasping it.

his voice came out in an almost desperate whisper. “don’t.”

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. fuck.

you found the bravery to look into his brown eyes and clenched your jaw. from this angle, his features looked almost chiselled, and he had one strand of messy hair that had fallen out of place.

“i could also give you a more hands-on reminder, if need be.” as his voice went even quieter, he leaned down and loosened his light grasp on your hand. you could feel his minty breath on your face again, he was so damn close. and you closed your eyes and his lips brushed against yours. but he wouldn’t close the gap.

he was going to make you do it.

“fred...” you pulled just millimetres away and opened your eyes to look up at him -- his opened too at the sound of your voice. you bit your lip nervously.

“if you wanna go, you can.” his voice was raspy.

you shook your head sheepishly. “no.”

“no?”

“no.” you whispered and leaned up, enveloping his lips in yours gently. they moved in sync as he wrapped his arms securely around your waist and you tightened your arms around his neck, running your fingers through his hair, the kiss becoming much more startlingly passionate than you’d expected. but, it was fred, after all.

he stepped forward to press you up properly against the door now, and you arched your back to lean even further into him than you thought possible, gasping when his hands found their way underneath your jumper. merlin, the boy worked fast. he used your shock as access to slip his tongue inside your mouth; tongues intertwining, you pulled against his hair gently as he leaned down, fingertips blazing across the skin of your waist. merlin, this felt like bliss. you were trembling with endorphins and need and disbelief that you’d gone and kissed him yourself. though he’d practically urged you to do it.

“fuck.” he groaned, causing you to whimper quietly as he pulled away from you, but you quickly went quiet when his lips touched against your jawline and neck, feverishly nibbling at the skin. you were terribly mad at yourself for not doing any of this sooner. his teeth grazed lightly underneath your earlobe and you let out a quiet moan. sure, you’d never had previous partners to compare him to, but this was fred weasley, and you were sure that he'd be the best you'd ever have in your life. perhaps a rash, impulsive decision, powered by lust, but when he somehow had the power to make your knees impossibly weak, and make you whine at the slightest touch, you were adamantly sure of it.

maybe it was the built-up anticipation and longing that made it all feel so good — because, merlin, the heat between your thighs pulsated from such a long time of waiting. for him. you lifted a leg around his waist to feel him closer and he groaned once more against the skin of your collarbone. you could feel him hardening in his jeans now, flush against your own heat, and you took this distraction to grab his jaw and pull him back to your lips once more. he was so addictive, you couldn’t think of anything else but his hands, his lips, his skin. when his fingertips skimmed inches away from your bra, you pulled back slowly and he looked down, eyes filled with lust and worry.

“shit, sorry if i —”

“no, no, it’s just,” cheeks flushed and lips swollen, you swallowed and bit your lip again, smiling, “are we really going to do this in your brother’s bedroom?”

he’d forgotten where he was for a moment. you two could’ve been in the common room and he would’ve been too distracted by how pretty you looked in your little skirt, thigh around his hip, love bites scattered across your neck. he hadn’t meant to leave one, nor two, nor the third one, but it wasn’t his fault. you were too distracting.

breathing heavily, he grinned at you. “my room is empty.”

you straightened out your clothes and hair, glancing quickly in the mirror, yet he just stood there, grinning, red hair ruffled, cheeks burning from the rush of kissing you. you turned to look at him critically. he was looking back.

"what?"

"get over here right now, fred." you ordered, still breathing heavily.

his grin grew wider, advancing towards you, "you don't have to tell me twice," until you put a hand to his chest.

"i meant to sort yourself out. in the mirror."

he rolled his eyes, shaking his head, grin faltering. "fine."

once you both looked like you hadn't been having the most passionate makeout session of your lives, and fred's cheeks had made the improvement from red to pink, you walked out from ron’s dormitory, heading across the landing to his. as casual as possible.

but as soon as you'd stepped inside and the door was shut and locked, you were back on each other, kissing, panting, touching, first against the wall, then making your way to his bed. he pushed you back onto it, and you braced for impact in reminiscence of his little prank from before. he chuckled before hovering above you, forearms pressing into the mattress, fingers grazing your thigh and your clit pulsing in response. he looked down at your little skirt that had risen a little too high, and let out a throaty groan.

“you’re so beautiful, y/n.” you flushed and he kissed down your neck once more, leaving even more hickeys (this time, on purpose, though was it really an accident last time?) and gentle bites as he went down. "you don't know how many times i've replayed that image in my mind, of your skirt all hiked up around your waist, thighs pushed together for me." he pulled at your jumper and you obliged, leaning forward slightly to remove it, meeting his lips again with fervour caused by his lewd words as his hands explored your waist with free reign. his knees were either side of your body and you pulled his shirt off in a flash, hands roaming over his chest and to his back, fingernails pressing lightly into his skin as fred unhooked your bra.

he eased it off you slowly, sliding the straps down your arms before tossing it down to the side, and gawking at you.

you shied under his gaze. "stop looking at me like that."

"can't help it," he rasped, cupping one breast while looking up at you, the rough texture of his hand making you arch your back.

"shit, fred," reaching down, he swirled his tongue over your other nipple, his previously occupied hand meeting the inside of your thigh, and you felt like you'd fucking implode. "please."

he licked over your other nipple before moving back up to your face and kissing you sweetly.

"please, what?"

"you know what." you whined.

"say it."

"don't make me say it, please, just..."

"i'm not making you say anything. i could, if i wanted to."

the repetition of those words made you once more weak in the knees as you threw your head back in embarrassment (a feeling he loved to incite in you, amongst other ones). you closed your eyes, "do you keep a book of your best quotes and practice them in your room, or what?"

he grinned cheekily, "no, just a natural. i prefer to do other things in my room, anyway."

"like what?" you look up at him.

"like fuck you."

you flushed red and he caught your lips in his again, smiling against them until you wrapped your legs around his waist, causing him to grind into you.

"fuck, y/n."

luckily he didn't make you plead any longer, hooking his fingers in your panties and pulling them off your legs. he didn't bother with the skirt. you looked much too pretty in it, after all.

guiding his hands to your hips, he pulled you to the edge of the bed, getting on his knees right on the carpet and hooking one of your legs over his shoulder before flipping up your skirt.

"so wet for me, hmm?"

you bit your lip, furrowing your brows as he swiped a thumb over you.

"is this how wet you were when i came into your room?"

you didn't reply, breathing even heavier as he kitten licked over your clit, making your whole body jerk.

"you gonna reply to me?"

"yeah, i — i was —" he licked over you again, firmly, swiping his tongue to dip a little inside of you. "shit!"

"i already told you i don't speak gibberish, y/n." he looked up at you.

you sighed deeply, gripping his hair as he licked at you even more. then you tried to speak again, voice trembling, "i was — fuck, i was thinking about you, fred."

his movements stopped and you whimpered, needing his tongue on your heat again. "you were?" eyes never having left your face, he groaned as you nodded sheepishly. "fuck." and he was back on you, feverishly eating you out, sucking at your clit and occasionally dipping his tongue inside you, making you arch your back and grip at his air, cursing and whining. for once, you were speaking gibberish.

until he paused. "tell me what you were thinking about, love. was i between your legs, like this, hmm?"

you bit your lip, pushing yourself up on your forearms and biting your lip. "no, n-- no, you were... we were in my room."

"yeah?" he raked his fingers over your inner thigh.

"and you had me up against the wall." fred grew even harder thinking of that.

"and what was i doing?"

"you were... fucking me, against the wall."

fred almost groaned again, "shit," and he resumed his actions, eating you out expertly.

you did try to keep your thighs open for him, but they were shaking so much that they moved together automatically. fred moaned into you as you wrapped your other thigh around his shoulder, pulling him even closer into you.

"fuck, fred, gonna cum!" your thighs squeezed tighter around his face, and he hooked his arms firmly under your legs and around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer and making you cry out as he sucked at your clit. your orgasm racked over your entire body, your hips bucking up and down into his tongue as he dug his fingers into your hips, easing you down from it. he rubbed soft circles over your hip with his thumb, as your legs slowly stopped trembling, then got up to kiss you softly with a grin on his face. this boy could never stop grinning, even with his chin drenched in your cum. tasting yourself, you moaned into the kiss, getting up onto your knees and unzipping your skirt.

sitting back on the bed, he watched the slow movements, biting his lip as the white fabric dropped and pooled around your knees, before looking up and into your eyes. "are you sure, y/n?"

you made your way closer to him, throwing your skirt to the side and taking the button off his jeans, zipping them down, before pausing and looking at him again. "i prefer to do other things in my room, anyway. like fuck you." you mimicked him playfully, pecking his lips.

"i wasn't lying." he smiled cheekily, dragging his thumb over your cheek before taking off his jeans. you began to climb on top of him, but he held your hips.

"no, no, no, no, not for your first time you won't."

you bit your lip. "how did you know it was my first time?"

"y/n, you told the entire common room that you were a virgin like two months ago, when you were piss drunk at the ravenclaw house party."

"i did?" you paused before laughing as he moved you onto your back, head resting on the pillows, "well, i could've had sex since then."

"hmm, really?" he tilted his head, smirking, "'could've' being the key word."

"hush."

fred raked his eyes over your body, legs open to accommodate his body between your legs, skin all flushed, nipples pert, and groaned before kissing you hard again, and taking off his boxers. as he pulled back, you gaped at his firm cock, swallowing.

"you think that's gonna fit?" you said, eyes wide.

"relax, i'm not gonna break you." he grabbed a condom from his bedside table, sliding it on as you kept your eyes glued to his movements.

"you could, if you want." you teased.

jaw clenching, he dug his nails into your hips as his cock twitched. "fuck, don't say that, please."

you snorted, but all amusement flew out the window when he slid his fingers through your wetness, inserting one into you easily and pumping it into you nice and slow. moaning, you gripped onto his wrist. "fred, i thought you were gonna... you know."

"can't say 'fuck me' either, huh?" you blushed, "i just need to get you ready, first. should've done it before but i got a little... carried away."

"oh — okay!" your voice went considerably high-pitched as he put in a second finger, stretching you out even more, but not granting you much discomfort considering he'd made you cum just before. then, a third, and as his fingers hit a spot inside of you that made your hips jerk, you furrowed your brows in desperation, "freddie, please, i'm ready now."

with one last teasing pump making you whimper, he took his cum-soaked fingers and glided them over the condom. his hips bucking up into his hand was definitely the hottest thing you'd ever seen. hovering over you, he placed one hand on your waist, using the other one to guide his cock to your entrance. "'m gonna put it in now, love."

"okay." you gulped as he slowly and carefully slid inside you, wrapping your legs around his waist in discomfort. he let out a low groan. he was trying so hard not to sheath himself all the way inside you, and fuck you stupid, and his cock tried to jump at the thought but was easily stopped by your tightening walls. merlin, you were so fucking tight. so tight.

"you alright? want me to stop for a sec'?"

you took a deep breath, shaking your head, "no, i'm okay, just keep going." your eyes watered as he went further, and each time you thought he couldn't possibly have any more to give you, he slid in even more of his cock. finally, he paused, fully inside you, giving you time to adjust and restricting himself from slamming into you.

it took a minute, but you gripped his shoulders tighter. "you can move." as he did, pulling out slowly, you practically squeaked when the curve of his cock brushed against your g-spot. your reaction made his eyes flutter shut, biting at his bottom lip.

pulling almost all the way out, he then pushed in once again, making you arch your back, the strong discomfort slowly fading and being replaced by pleasure.

"can you — uh, fuck, can you please go faster?"

well, those were the words he'd been dying to hear. still making sure you were comfortable, he picked up his pace, grasping at your hips and looking at his cock push in and out of you. "fuck, y/n." he leaned down to kiss you, again, speeding up a little more while groaning. you tried to kiss back properly, but the way his dick was hitting all the right places made you moan into his mouth. and then he went even harder, and you gasped, and your foreheads were pressed together as you panted into each other's mouths, and fuck it was all too much.

"fuck, gripping me so tightly." he groaned, snapping his hips up to meet yours as you ground down into his thrusts. he brushed a thumb over your clit, wanting to make you feel good, and you held tightly onto his shoulders.

"freddie, shit, i think i'm gonna cum again, don't stop," you whimpered, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck as your orgasm shot through you again, moaning loudly every time he pounded into you.

he could feel you pulsating around him, and thrust into you harder, making you cry out. he reached over and grabbed his wand from his bedside table, casting 'muffliato' before tossing it the side, landing merlin knows where. "as much as i want everyone to know how good i'm fucking you, we don't wanna be too loud, do we?"

you shook your head hurriedly, pushing down onto fred, hair splayed out over the sheets, the light sheen of sweat over your forehead and chest glistening in the light shining in through the windows. this sight made him groan again. "i'm gonna cum, fuck."

swiping his thumb over your clit again, your body convulsed, pussy clenching around him. fred came hard, as did you, coming down from his high by harshly pumping a few last times into you, slipping out with a moan, and rolling onto his back beside you. you both tried to recover, panting. you threw your arm over your eyes, taking deep breaths, and fred wiped the sweat off his forehead. a silence enveloped the space between you, fred pulling the condom off and putting it in the bin beside his bed, then throwing on his boxers and turning on his side, hand propping up his head.

"so. better than the showerhead?"

"oh, go fuck yourself." you grinned.

"nah, i prefer when you do it."

before you could counter back, a long, high-pitched yell echoed from one of the boys' dorm rooms.

you raised your brows, "i think ron's back."

"would appear so, yeah."

[hardskz]

bow down.

pairing — bang chan x genderneutral! reader

genre — modern royalty au, drama-ish, smut; sexual tension-ish, hand kink, brat tamer! chan, degradation, leg humping, humiliation

synopsis — you have eyes. prince bang chan is a whole snack. but you also have too high of an ego and can’t seem to accept that prince chan isn’t full of himself unlike the other dozen members of any royal family you’ve met before. alternatively, this is the disney channel movie ‘princess protection program’ but make it porn only.

note — this fic with a wc of 7k+ does not include any spoilers to the movie and you don’t even have to know what the movie is about you’ll get the gist as you read. ngl half of this is from one of my drafts from like 3 years ago and i never continued it so here i am turning it into filth hahahah (and i needed a fresh idea for brat tamer chan and hence why i think the sfw part is better written than the nsfw lmao) rip also pls accept this as the follower milestone gift and 1 year anniversary special :’)

“I’m pretty sure I asked for a puppy for my birthday — which was three months ago may I add — not for a new roommate?”

You look back and forth between Youngjae and the stranger sitting on the couch who is staring back at you with a curious expression. He looks around your age and you admit, his face isn’t the kind of face that makes you thank your parents that genetics did a decent job on you. It’s quite the opposite, actually.

His face is the type of face that makes you ask your parents why genetics didn’t do a better job on yours. Okay, you haven’t reached that stage of visual inferiority yet but that’s mainly because he is dressed in clothes that were trendy in the 15th century or something. The garments clinging to his skin look like a bad fusion of a suit (which college student wears a suit in their free time?) and the ridiculous costume the marching band at your former high school had worn whenever a football game was up. And those weird golden pins clipped on the blazer makes it seem as if he used to be in the marines or comes from a royal bloodline or—

Oh. 

“Don’t mind my cousin, your Highness. (y/n)’s humor has always been questionable.”  Youngjae sends you a glare before he puts on his sweetest smile — you know, the act he puts on whenever he tries to negotiate a bonus with his boss or woo his date — and opts to ignore your presence. “Anyway, since we are dealing with a more serious issue at hand than originally expected, we need to give you a makeover to—“

Before he gets to finish his sentence, you violently tug him away from the prince and despite Youngjae thrashing around and complaining, you manage to send the guest a forced smile and leave his vision. The moment you let go of Youngjae in the neighboring room, he readjusts his collar. “What? Couldn’t you have waited once I was done? Also, was it necessary to crinkle my collar this much?” he hisses but you get straight to the point.

“What is he doing here?”

“Uh, sitting on the couch?”

“That’s not what I mean.” you grit your teeth and land a punch on his arm. “What is he doing here?”

Youngjae looks over your shoulder, making sure that what he’s about to say next is only heard by you. “Prince Chan is,” he hesitates, unsure how to approach his topic. You know it’s taking up his last nerves to conclude a logical explanation as the tip of his tongue pokes out of the corner of his lips; a habit he has adapted ever since he stopped chewing on his bottom lip. “The predicament he’s in is worse than we expected. Well, his dad is partially at fault because he forgot to tell us this not-so-small critical detail that—“

“Youngjae, you’re rambling.”

“The point is.” he sighs and gives you a distressed look as if he already knows you’re not going to like the information at all. “We can’t send him to the family in Goyang, the place he was originally going to stay in. He’s one of the more extreme cases and the Board agreed that he had to live with one of the active combatants to ensure his safety.”

Silence engulfs the kitchen and you know he’s waiting for you to count two and two together.

“He’s going to live here,” you deadpan eventually and Youngjae nods in confirmation.

“I know you’re not very happy—“

“Not very happy is underwhelming.” You earn a flick against your forehead and yelp in pain as you over the spot he just hit. “Ow! I was just stating the truth!”

“Will you stop interrupting me? Geez. Yes, I know that you’re not happy at all. I know that you’re not a huge fan of the majority of our family working in this business. But please do me this one favor or so help me God— try to be nice to him for the next year.”

“He’s staying for a year?” you shriek and in the blink of an eye, Youngjae clamps your mouth shut.

“Can you keep it down?!” he whisper-yells, then retreats his hand and reverts to a conversational tone with a frown. “It’s just a year, okay? Y’know, just... say hi to him whenever you see him. Act civilized.”

You grimace as he stresses his last words like you didn’t know what human decency was. The longer you keep the petrified expression on your face, the more it turns into a staring contest between the two of you. Just as if you were each other’s reflection, you mimic his actions and vice versa. When Youngjae squints, you squint. When you shoot him a glare, he returns it. It all boils down to the final blink that Youngjae feints and you’re the first to look away.

“Okay fine! I’ll try to behave,” you mumble in defeat.

A satisfied smile makes its way on Youngjae’s lips. “It’s always nice negotiating with you.”

Being born into a family where the majority works for the royalty protection program (short: RPP or as you like to stylize it: argh-pee-pee), also known as the secret service for people with crowns on their heads, comes with many perks. In your eyes, this privilege comes with many, many downsides that aren’t worth the advantages. Sure, there is the one or other occasion where you can waltz around in fancy evening attire and attend an actual ball, but overall, it’s a pain in the ass.

Even though it’s prohibited to openly declare that you work for the RPP, the news always finds its way out. Usually, it takes approximately a week for pretty much half of the neighborhood to find out. And it certainly isn’t nice hearing whispers about your dad being that guy working for the program whenever you step out of your house, which is ultimately why you moved in with your cousin Youngjae. (Housing in your small town wasn’t really affordable for a dirt poor college student after all!)

Youngjae has always been your favorite cousin out of the... whatever number of cousins you have. But here’s the thing. He also works for the RPP.

However, somehow he managed to — and up to this day it still remains a mystery to you how on earth he did that — keep his job a secret. Especially with his tendency to dish out the worst kinds of secrets when he’s slightly tipsy. Frankly, you once considered printing out the image of a trophy for that remarkable feat.

With your dad and cousin both active in that business (because organization sounds too shady), it’s not the first time you meet a prince, so you already know how the entire thing works. The concept is quite simple; they get sent to a household but before they settle in and take on a fake identity until their circumstances have improved, they undergo a makeover. Most of the time, it ends up in the glow up you secretly crave but in Prince Chan’s case, you suppose he can’t get any more attractive.

Oh boy. You’re in for a ride.

You’re busy slicing bell peppers for the meal you were cooking when both your cousin and the prince enter the kitchen and Youngjae explicitly demands you to pay them attention. You don’t react immediately, but the moment he threatens to swipe the knife away from you, you perk up and set your desire to prepare your fried rice aside.

“(y/n), uh, hi? I’m Bang Chan and I’ll be your new housemate for a year. I hope we can get along.” Chan recites his introduction without any mistakes and earns a way too brotherly pat on the back from Youngjae, considering that they just met this morning. It’s truly amazing how fast Youngjae can get people to warm up to him. 

Chan is stripped out of his weird clothes and instead, looks like he threw on the next best thing lying around in his room. Nonetheless, despite the seemingly little effort that was put into the outfit, it looks oddly good. The stylists didn’t seem to do much to his hair and just parted his bangs a little, so one could catch a slight glimpse of his forehead. It’s just a small detail, but you find yourself liking his current appearance much more appealing than before, though you’re pretty sure his clothes played a major part in your previous distaste. 

“Remember Jihyo?” Youngjae interrupts your train of thought. “She’s Chan’s relative. And because I’m the genuine friend who loves to help her out, I decided to agree to this after she went down on her knees and begged me to let Chan live with us for a while—“

“I’m not interested in your blown up, fictional background stories, thank you very much.” you backtrack. “Wait. Did you say Jihyo? Seriously? Jihyo is his alibi?” Of course, you remember Jihyo. It’s quite difficult to forget her when Youngjae used to swoon about her at every hour of the day, back when they were a thing. Besides, she still stops by every few months.

“C’mon, you have to admit there is a similar vibe between them!” 

You furrow your brows and inspect Chan a second time. Your gaze wanders back to Youngjae and then returns to Chan anew. It’s obvious that the latter is feeling as if he were up for auction and you can’t really blame him for feeling so uncomfortable. You’ve heard from a few friends that if looks could kill, you’d have the highest killing record. 

There’s no similar vibe in your view, but for the sake of entertaining Youngjae’s thoughts: “He does seem similar to Jihyo.”

“Told ya. But back to more important matters,” Youngjae coughs and wraps his arm around your shoulder to pull you closer, but it somehow seems as if he’s opting to strangle you. “My duties are calling, so I won’t be back until late. You look like you could need some help with cooking, by the way. I’m sure Chan right here is willing to help you!”

“I’m almost done though—“ you choke when he tightens his embrace. By now, his arm is no longer hugging your shoulder, but rather crushing your throat.

“You look like you could need some help,” he repeats, this time with added urgency. “It’d be a great opportunity for you to bond since you’ll also share pretty much all classes at uni. Did you know, he has the same major as you! Besides, it’d be a very useful life experience for him if he helped you with cooking.”

“Of course, how fun!” you hiss, voice going an octave higher from the lack of oxygen. “I already said that I’m painfully delighted about that, so you can let me go now, Youngjae!”

A sneer and a jab in his arm later, Youngjae finally takes his leave. That nasty liar, leaving an hour earlier than his schedule stated. You know that silently cursing at him isn’t going to make your problems dissolve because that’d be a dream come true.

“Listen, let me get things straight.” you sigh, picking up the knife to resume chopping your vegetables. Youngjae may have ordered you to act civilized, but having eye contact with Chan when you’ve been starving for the past hour isn’t your priority. Food doesn’t make itself. “I don’t have any intention of getting close to you and I expect the same from you. Don’t step a foot into my room, don’t talk to me unless absolutely necessary, and don’t think I’ll run around and do your chores or cook your meals like one of your little servants. Just because you’re a prince doesn’t mean you’ll be treated like one under this roof.”

“We live in the 21st century, not the renaissance. Your idea of royal families is very dated.” Chan chuckles dryly.

“Baron Yoon Jeonghan from the seven islands is a stuck-up prick and out of touch with the world. It took him several visits to the slums, multiple voluntary hours at the kindergarten, and stripping him off his bank card to make him see reason,” you deadpan. Fuck Baron Jeonghan. Just thinking about your first and last encounter with that entitled douchebag almost makes you slice your finger instead of the bell pepper. “Duchess Yoo Shiah threw a hissy fit when she found out her clothes weren’t dry cleaned and bought from Zara instead of fucking Dior. The one who takes the cake when it comes to privilege is Princess Kim Min—”

“Everyone knows they are problematic,” Chan interjects. True, he has a point. There’s nobody out there who doesn’t know about Baron Jeonghan or Duchess Shiah but he’s also missing the entire point.

“And guess who gets stuck under the care of the RPP?” you raise a brow at him. He blanches at the realization as if he got struck with lightning. Perhaps you should give him more credit because he seems to own more brain cells than Baron Jeonghan. “Exactly. Everyone problematic.” 

Chan’s jaw is clenched as he racks his brain to come up with a smart comeback. The sight of him stumbling on his words is nothing but pitiful, so you turn back to the cutting board and grab an onion to slice in half. “I’m not interested in your sob story, your Highness. I don’t care why you’re under the protection of the RPP. The only thing I care about is that you stay out of my business.”

“Chan is fine. No need for the title,” he sighs with a strain. “Perhaps I should’ve been more considerate with my first comment. Youngjae already told me about your… negative attitude towards the entire setup. It wasn’t my intention to anger you. Sorry.”

Well, that’s new. Out of the dozens of aristocrats you’ve met (and sadly also shared a house with back when you were 16 years old and still living with your dad), he’s the first to drop his title within five minutes for the sake of the disguise and apologize. 

“We live under the same roof so we should get along with each other. If there’s something you need help with, just ask me, (y/n).”

“Thanks for the offer,” you reply nonchalantly because act civilized unless you want to suffer from a late-night sneak attack from Youngjae if he finds out. “But no thanks. I don’t need your help.”

You find yourself in need of help a few weeks later, right before the dreaded exam season.

“No. Forget it, Bam. I’m not going out clubbing with you tonight. In fact, I won’t do that anytime soon.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you try to break down to your friend that you prioritize your grades over his need of getting wasted.

“C’mon!” he whines so loudly that you have to put your phone farther away from your ear. “You’re not in that much stress yet! You have to make the most out of it before you drown in your exams.”

“Things are different for engineering students like, uh, me for example!” you hiss. “I fell behind and need to catch up. Ask Yugyeom or Changbin.”

“First of all, Yugyeom is always at the bar doing his job. And Changbin never picks up his phone. There’s nobody who’d dance with me!”

“You abandoned me at the bar for some chick the last time,” you deadpan. “I’m very sure you’ll find someone.”

Bambam finally gets the gist and gives up. “Fine then. Your loss. Have fun dying in numbers and variables instead of living in the moment. You’re going to regret it—”

You end the call and set your phone on mute before throwing it on the bed. Sometimes you wonder whether you were on drugs when you decided to major in engineering. The longer you stare at the jumble of numbers and letters — some of them in Greek too — the more you think your brain cells are decaying.

That’s how you find yourself in the kitchen, complaining at Youngjae’s expense and telling him how much you’d rather drown in bleach than subjecting yourself to Algebra II. 

“You know there’s someone you can ask for help and he’s right here,” Youngjae drawls before chugging down the rest of his beer. If he’s going to be a victim to your temper tantrum about a major that you chose yourself, he might as well get a drink so he won’t go insane from your monologue about numbers and graphs and formulas he’s forgotten since he graduated from high school.

You gawk at him. “You? Are you hearing yourself? You almost failed maths. Twice!”

“Because I didn’t mean myself, dipshit,” he says blankly and his eyes flit over your shoulder, “Speaking of the devil. There comes the man of honor.”

You whip your head back to the door to see Chan enter confusedly. “Uh, did I interrupt something?”

“Yes.”

“No, we were just talking about you!”

You send Youngjae a death glare which he casually shrugs off. “(y/n) here is bitching about her Statistics I class and needs a tutor!”

“It’s actually Algebra II if you bothered to pay attention—”

“(y/n) needs a tutor!” Youngjae exclaims and nearly trips on his feet when he gets up from his chair. “Channie, I heard you’re good with numbers. Didn’t you get accepted into all Ivy Leagues in the States for all engineering programs?”

“You didn’t have to word it like that,” Chan laughs it off and nervously rubs the back of his head. He’s not denying it though.

“Obviously he would. He’s loaded and lives in a castle,” you mutter under your breath, but everyone catches it.

“Hey,” Youngjae warns. “That wasn’t necessary.”

“It’s alright,” Chan says casually. “I just wanted to get myself a snack. But if you have some questions, don’t hesitate to knock on my door. The offer still stands, y’know.” He digs through the cabinet until he finds two packs of the strawberry flavored Pocky knockoff that is 1) apparently his favorite thing to eat and 2) half the price of the Pocky version. He gives Youngjae a thumbs up before he returns to his room.

The moment Chan is out of sight, Youngjae whips his head to you, nostrils flaring. All that’s missing is steam coming out of his ears and his face running red and then he looks like the impetuous brother in every kids cartoon ever. “Really? He’s been staying with us for how long now? Four weeks? Five? Yet you’re still acting as if he murdered you in your dreams or something.”

“I don’t like him,” you state coldly. Youngjae looks like he’s about to rip his hair out.

“Look, I get that you don’t like me being active in this field of work, and I get that you have some hatred against the royal families. But you know you signed up for this when you decided to move in with me.” Youngjae pauses to get a breather and pop a new beer bottle open. “Besides, Chan isn’t like Baron Jeonghan or Duchess Shiah. I have eyes, (y/n), and I’ve seen you two avoiding each other as much as possible. And he doesn’t just laze around — he does the fucking chores and cooks dinner too! Chan is good, (y/n).”

The last words make you snap. “Good? Are you fucking serious? Because that’s why the press in his kingdom is depicting him as a tyrant who cares more about building his sick harem instead of helping the poor. And wasn’t he diagnosed for having anger management issues?!”

All the color leaves Youngjae’s face. This is obviously something you shouldn’t know. While he’s scrambling for words, you take the chance to add, “Dunno why you’re protecting him when he’s making headlines as a prince who can’t keep his dick in his pants.”

“Chan isn’t just a prince,” Youngjae says quietly. “He’s the crown prince.”

Your eyes widen at the confession. “What? Isn’t that even worse with that reputation he has?”

“It’s all propaganda,” he sighs and takes a swig, “The ministers are doing everything they can to finish him off. You see, Chan is the only child of the current king of the seven islands, and if he’s wiped out, it’ll be utter chaos. Chan’s smart and I admit, he used to have anger issues, but he’s worked on them. Though I guess he’s resorted to bottling up his feelings when push comes to pull. The point is, all the higher-ups don’t want him as their future king because they know that Chan is very much capable of pulling through with his own ideas and that doesn’t sit well with them. And a supposedly impulsive future king is the last thing anyone wants, hence why his people are eating up the news.”

“Oh.” you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel an ounce of remorse. However, it’s not the first time you’ve heard such stories. 

“Yeah. Oh,” Youngjae mocks, “If that’s the main reason why you don’t want to talk to him, now you know better. He might have power, but he’s not a monster. And for the record, he got into all Ivy Leagues and elite schools all over the world through his intelligence, not his status.”

Although you can see it in his eyes that Youngjae is done with the heated discussion, he’s still waiting for you to say something. You frown. “So… you think he’s a good tutor?”

“He’s your only shot.” Youngjae says nonchalantly, then adds with a warning tone, “But remember: Act. Civilized. Oh, and don’t tell him I told you about his circumstances. It’s supposed to be confidential information.”

You roll your eyes. How the fuck hasn’t Youngjae been busted yet?

Nonetheless, you’re trudging to Chan’s door a few minutes later, your fat binder of incomprehensible math formulas and (Greek) letter heavy in your arm. Chan opens the door with surprise etched on his face after you knocked, but it settles to warmth when you begrudgingly ask him to help you understand Algebra II. 

“Sorry, it’s a little messy here,” he chuckles airily once he lets you in. It’s not messy per se, just a few clothes piled up in a corner of the room and some books and messily written notes lying on his bed. Still, it’s by far cleaner than the pig stall that is Youngjae’s room (and yours when you’re having a very bad day).

Chan clears his desk and drags his other chair to the table before plopping down on it. “So, what’s the problem?” Instead of answering, you just shove a sheet of paper up his face. “Y’know, you can talk to me. If this is about earlier, it’s really alright. I’m not mad or anything,” he says with the same friendly tone you’ve been hearing ever since he moved in, yet he still takes the sheet from you. You watch his brows scrunch together the more he reads on, and you can already see the question forming in his mind.

“(y/n), you do know this is the basis to understand—”

“I was absent when the professor covered it and everyone I asked couldn’t quite explain it to me,” you respond before he can finish speaking out his thoughts. “All my friends were like—” you gesture with your hands, “—you just do this and that and then hope your hunch is right. Before you say it, yes I know that I don’t get the material of one entire unit and the exam is two weeks away.”

“Then let’s not waste any time,” Chan says before grabbing his iPad. You stare at him blankly as he writes something on his tablet. The last thing you expected from him was to accept it and try to hammer as much of missing information as he can into your brain, but then again, you’ve never seen him backtrack whenever Youngjae asks him something. Speaking of Youngjae, perhaps he is right. Chan does seem to know what he’s talking about.

“You have to subtract X first, then replace it with Y,” he explains as he circles said letters in different colors. By now, you’ve leaned closer to him to get a better view on what he’s writing (his handwriting isn’t the worst you’ve ever had to decode; refer to Youngjae who you’ve internally awarded with the worst handwriting of the decade). 

Chan is exceptionally good at explaining. You feel like you’ve figured out a secret of the world that not even Pythagoras found out as you slowly understand what on Earth you are supposed to calculate with the formula. Chan is patient, always asking if you got it or if you needed another clarification, and takes the time to draw colorful graphs to visualize the jumble of numbers. His voice is pleasing to the ear too, soft and gentle to the point where you’ve blurred everything out except Chan. Chan’s voice. Chan’s hand.

You didn’t mean to stare, but with him always adding something new every five seconds as he goes on with his monologue, you can’t help but do so. His fingers aren’t long — that’ll always be courtesy of Hyunjin from Subway and yes, his very pretty hands might be the sole reason you only insist on going to that one specific Subway at the intersection next to KFC — but just one glance at Chan’s hand and you know that he’s strong. 

He’s barely applying pressure to the pen, but you can see the veins slightly protruding. Chan’s sleeves are pushed back and if you move your head a bit, you’re more than certain that veins are bulging out from his forearms too. However, you don’t muster up the courage to do that because Chan will definitely notice and the last thing you want on your platter is to tell him that you were too busy checking out his arms instead of listening to him talk about Algebra II.

Eventually, Chan sets the pen down to stretch his hand. He says something, but you don’t pick up what exactly. Not that it’d matter much anyway since you’re too busy admiring his hand—

“(y/n), you there? I called out your name several times but you didn’t react.” Chan’s breath hitches and surprise flashes in his eyes for a split second when his gaze meets yours. You don’t understand his hesitation, but then horror bubbles in you once you realize that his hand is firmly gripping your chin and keeping your head pointed at his direction. The very same hand you’ve been staring at for God knows how long. 

“I’m good. Just a little tired, but I’m good,” you stutter, though it comes out very breathlessly as if you just finished a marathon.

“Tired?” Chan echoes, concern settling into his features. “You should’ve said so, then I would’ve stopped talking. You need something?”

Now that you think about it, you’ve never got a close look at Chan. Sure, he’s handsome, the countless pictures of Google prove that he’s also too photogenic for his own good (goddamnit, why didn’t your parents make you just as photogenic?) but in person, he’s something else. His lips are plush and look very inviting to kiss, and the lower your eyes wander, the more you see a toned chest hidden underneath that damn shit that hugs him in all the right places.

Fine, his hands aren’t the only attractive thing about him. Then again, he’s a prince.

“I said I’m good.” you snap out of your thoughts and finally gather enough control over your nerves to tear his hand away. “And I caught everything you said.” Of course, you know that’s a blatant lie and he knows so too from the way he’s looking at you. That is until he quirks a brow.

“Okay, then what did I say before I called you?”

Your mouth feels dry. It’s almost as if he knew the reason for your distress. “I caught everything relevant to this,” you mutter, suddenly finding his curtains much more interesting. What an interesting design, maybe you should get yourself new curtains too—

“Then you wouldn’t mind solving these questions, right? Just so I can make sure that you got everything down.”

“Sure,” you reply because that’s the only thing you could say without hurting your ego and straining your vocal cords. Chan doesn’t comment any further and looks for some practice questions before sliding the iPad to you. Already the first question makes your head spin in disdain. Numbers? Variables? Never heard of them.

Chan is watching you like a hawk as you fiddle with the pen, unable to write down anything that makes remote sense. Feeling his eyes on you makes you feel helpless and you shift around in your seat. “What are you staring at?” you glare at him once you give up for good, and you just hope that your look is as intimidating as you pictured in your head.

“You’re definitely exhausted. You’re shaking,” Chan points out. Your eyes widen as you stare down and realize that your thighs are shaking, and it’s then and there when you realize that you’re feeling hot. Seems like Chan doesn’t realize that because the worry written on his face is genuine. “You say the exam’s in two weeks right? We can stop for today and work on this tomorrow. That is if you still want my help.”

You nod and add in a tiny voice, “Yes, please.”

You’re too busy ignoring the heat building between your thighs to notice the borderline feral sound that leaves Chan.

“And here I thought you had quality bonding time.” Youngjae gives a disappointed look. “You’re acting even colder towards him than before your exam meltdown. Your prick level can only stoop down so low.”

You ended up getting tutor lessons from Chan every day before the dreaded day of judgment: the exam in Algebra II. You spent more hours in his room than on your own if you were completely honest, and the results were fruitful. While you did manage to pass the exam with a fairly high score, the price you had to pay was hell.

It’s almost as if Chan caught up on your hand fixation. Sometimes he twirled the pen in his fingers, sometimes it was the simple bracelet dangling on his wrist. Just when you thought he had you figured out, he asks you if you’re alright, visibly oblivious to his effect on you. Such duality in a person should be illegal, you conclude. If you die from whiplash, you know who the perpetrator is.

“You were the one who pretty much pressured me into asking him for help,” you drawl.

“I had good intentions only! You can’t keep up the I-hate-royal-families-blah-blah mentality the entire time!” Youngjae wails before stuffing a handful of chips in his mouth.

“Watch me.” You internally cringe at the loud crunching sounds he’s making and add vigorously, “And stop chewing so loudly.”

“You’ll get around or so help me God—” he groans when his phone buzzes. He doesn’t spare a glance at the caller ID because there’s only one person who has set his ringtone to the baby shark song specifically for when he’s calling. “I gotta go, Jinyoung’s being a bitch again. Don’t murder somebody. Thanks.” You only watch him shuffle for his bag and grab a handful of chips before he’s out the door. Groaning, you clean up the mess he’s made on the table. 

Just as you’re done wiping the crumbs off the surface, Chan pads into the room. 

“Hey, can we talk?”

“I established right at the beginning that you should only talk to me when absolutely necessary.” you scowl, trying to walk past him.

“Well, this is important,” he urges and blocks the doorway, effectively stopping you from fleeing. “And I do deserve one conversation with you after I helped you out.”

“You offered on your own. That’s not the same as asking for a favor.” You successfully push your way past him, but in the next moment, he spins you around and pins you against the wall. 

“We’re going to talk, whether you like it or not.” The sudden coldness of his tone has shivers running down your spine. Chan holds your wrist in an iron grip and if he clutched on any tighter, you wouldn’t put it past him to break your bones. Out of options, you comply and give him a curt nod before he lets go and takes a step back. 

“I don’t understand you, (y/n). I genuinely thought you would put your prejudices aside but instead, all I get are mixed signals from you.”

It’s your turn to gawk. “Me? Mixed signals? What are you talking about?” 

“I’m talking about how you keep looking at me as if you want me to fuck your brains out.” If the color hasn’t drained from your face yet, it has now. Chan smiles wickedly at your horrified reaction but doesn’t stop there. “I’m talking about how you talk like you don’t want anything to do with me but act as if you’re begging for my attention.” He takes a step closer to you, and you wish you could morph with the wall. “I’m talking about how you keep staring at my hands and think I don’t notice it.” You wince when he rests his hands against the wall on each side of your face, leaning closer so that you can feel his breath on your lips. “So, you have a thing for my hands?” Bullseye.

“You’re so full of yourself. No wonder your ministers want to get rid of you,” you snap because you’d rather suffer from food poisoning than admitting that you want Chan’s fingers in you.

Something shifts within Chan. He gapes at you, clearly not expecting you to even know about the ministers. His demeanor darkens in a blink of an eye, and you feel like your legs are about to give up on you when you meet his eyes, black and feral.

“You’re playing with fire. Don’t anger me,” he warns, voice low and rough.

“So it’s true that you resorted to bottling up your feelings, your Highness?” you cock your head to the side. Chan clenches his jaw at the mention of his title, struggling to keep his anger in check. You laugh through your nose, then grab one of his hands and force it away from the wall. If he already knows that you’re thirsting after him, might as well go for it. “It’s funny how your ministers aren’t able to string you around like a puppet yet here you are, unable to do anything against a commoner. You know you have nice hands and you know my weakness and yet, you’re not using them on me.” He gulps when you fumble with his fingers. 

And then he understands.

“Unless I misread the situation,” he says darkly, though you distinguish the slight tremor his voice carries. “Do you really want this? I’m not going to go easy on you.” Chan is dead serious, judging by the way he’s looking at you expectantly. 

“The safe word is petunia.” You don’t take your eyes off him and add in a louder tone, “Now try me, do your worst.”

“You’re going to regret wanting me at my worst,” Chan growls and before you know it, he crashes his lips against yours. The kiss is anything but sweet, more of a clash of teeth and tongues and saliva dribbling down your chins, yet it leaves you boiling hot and wobbly on your feet. He presses you up against the wall and forces his leg between yours, the sudden contact making you hunch forward. You moan against his mouth when he tugs harshly on your hair, the sting making your nerves go haywire. In the meantime, your hands roam his upper body, blunt nails digging into his shoulders as you try to buck your hips against his leg. While he doesn’t budge, you manage to elicit a groan out of him.

When you pull away, you’re both gasping for air. Chan’s hair is disheveled from the way you’ve been pulling on them, lips pink and glossy. One look in his eyes is enough to make your heart stop beating. They’re dark and animalistic and set ablaze with unfiltered lust. You’re such in a daze from a simple kiss that you nearly stumble when Chan drags you to his room.

He manhandles you on his bed with ease before his lips latch on yours once more. You nearly sob when he rids you off your pants, putting pressure in all the right places to have you losing your mind. As you’re about to gain back some dominance in the kiss, he breaks it off. His fingers that were once ghosting over your underwear are now tracing patterns all over the material, making you spasm. “You’re such a brat, all bark but no bite. All it takes is one kiss and you’ve lost all your fight. Can you get any more pathetic?” he mocks as he focuses his fingertips directly on the wet patch of your underwear. Your eyes roll back as he rubs on the same spot, the broken moans leaving you eerily similar to cries. “Don’t tell me you’re about to come like this. How sensitive are you?”

“Am n-not—” you cut yourself off with a whimper when he lets the waistband snap against your skin.

“Yeah, you sure about that?” he grins and that’s when you break, feeling your high approaching at lightning speed. 

“Don’t wanna come like this—” 

“But I thought you’re not sensitive?” the satisfied grin just widens with every syllable that leaves his lips. “If you don’t want to come like this, all over your underwear, beg.” 

Chan applies even more force to your sensitive spots, and you struggle to have a clear thought. The smirk he delivers is lethal, and you couldn’t be any more convinced that he’s the devil’s incarnate.

“I’ll do anything, please. Don’t let me come like this, that’s all I’m a-aah-asking for,” you weep, your blood nearly boiling at its climax, “I’ll even take a punishment!”

“Say my name,” he orders, fingers still drawing circles.

“Your—”

“My name, not my title.”

Your breath hitches as you finally realize what he’s aiming for. He wants you to remember that it’s him who’s reducing you into this illiterate mess. Him, the one you’ve been despising since before you even met. If you still had any ounce of dignity left, you’d try to fix the power imbalance until you’re left with no choice but to obey, but now you’re so close and the last thing you want to do is come with your pants on.

“Please, Chan,” your voice breaks towards the end and in an instant, he pulls away. As you’re letting you’re basking in the break from his brutal tempo, not too affected by how your upcoming orgasm is fading away, Chan observes you.

And then out of nowhere, he flips you on your stomach and delivers a hard smack to your ass that has you screaming into the pillows.

“You said you’d take any punishment too, right?” You twitch as he rubs the small of your back. You can already imagine the handprints on your ass he continued to slap you with such force that has you moving up the bed. The pain that’s going to haunt you for days. Before you know it, you try to arch your back to lift your ass, but then the bed shifts. “But if you really think I’m going to spank you as a punishment, then you’re really fucking dumb. As if I’ll use my hands on you when we both know you love my hands.”

With that, he drops himself on his chair, spreading his legs that you can see the prominent tent forming in his pants. He orders you over with a flick of his finger, and just as you get up from the bed, a new wave of horror flushes over you.

“Crawl.”

The look you send him is priceless. There’s no fucking way you can do it. It’s just a few meters, nothing you can’t handle, but he’s there sitting on his Ikea swivel chair as if it’s his throne made of gold, watching your every movement like a predator. And then there’s you, only in a shirt and underwear, being forced to go on all fours as if you were his fucking dog—

The difference in power display couldn’t get any more visible. He really is the fucking worst.

“You’d really do anything, huh…” he muses as you drop on your hands and knees and crawl to him, never looking up. It’s only when he beckons you to stand up that you look at him with nothing but rage and shame in your eyes. Chan has always been slightly terrified with your death stare but right now, he can’t take it seriously and it shows. It shows in the way he smiles lopsidedly, in the way his brows quirk in amusement. “Now hump my leg.”

Humiliation runs through your body all over. Your fists are clenched as he waits for you to act, even pats his thigh in case you didn’t get the memo. But oh you do, and his thigh does look inviting.

“Hump my leg like the brainless bitch you are. If you want my hands or my cock, you earn it first. Especially since you treated me like shit ever since I moved in.” The last sentence burns you badly because he has a point. But then there’s the prospect of his hands and dick that’s bulging out of his pants. 

Pushing all thoughts away, you settle on his leg. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you tell yourself it’s all good and then you move. The first thrust knocks all air out of your lungs and you grab onto his shoulders for support. You didn’t even move that much, but Chan’s looking at you as if he’s about to fucking devour you and knowing that he is very much capable of moving you around, you’re starting to become overwhelmed.

Eventually, you lose yourself in the feeling of his rough jeans against your drenched underwear, humping on his thigh as your orgasm builds up. It’s silent, save for your pants, and the countless whimpers flying past your lips as your movements gradually become sloppier. You’re almost there and you know it. But so does Chan, and the moment he’s got it figured out, he lunges from your hips and forces you to pick up the pace. 

“Oh no, you’re going to come,” he growls, ignoring your pleas and sobs. Adrenaline courses in your blood and you know it isn’t long until you fall apart. You try to make him stop, even put your hands on his, but you don’t have the energy to actively push him away.

“Chan, please— I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna come? Then fucking come on my thigh, (y/n),” he snaps, and then adds, “You hear that? You’re about to come from humping my thigh.”

Maybe it’s the realization that he’s right, maybe it’s the way he’s worded it. Either way, it’s the last straw to make you spasm as you come, soaking your underwear and even managing to make a mess out of his pants. Chan makes sure you ride through your orgasm, only stopping to move your hips once you’re all spent and resting your head on his shoulder. Your eyes are glassy, vision foggy, but the only thing you can envision clearly is Chan.

Chan jolts when your hand grazes over his bulge. You’re about to undo his pants, but he’s quick to stop you and restrict your hands behind your back.

“You think you deserve my cock? Dream on. As if I would fuck any commoner, especially those who don’t respect me,” he spits, and you flinch at his choice of words, clearly recalling that you used the exact same terms and he’s now using it against you. “You said you’d take any punishment. Well, guess what? This was just punishment number one.”

[ejunkiet]

hypothermia fic??? *waggles eyebrows* TELL ME MORE PLS

SO, this kastle fic has been sitting in my drafts for two years, and is therefore set between daredevil s2 and the defenders. The first part is actually pretty much done, but I ran out of steam. It will be finished eventually..!

It’s sheer luck that she finds him, nearly twenty minutes later, a mile upstream. He’s half-dead by the time she gets there, skin a shade too white and lips tinged with blue. He’s propped up against a tree with a colt perched across his knees but his eyes are closed, and when she reaches out to touch his wrist, his neck, the fluttering of his pulse is so weak she thinks she’s already lost him.

There’s no obvious injuries, but the way he’s cradling his side and difficulties in his breathing suggest that he’s busted a rib, maybe two. His face is covered in bruises, dark purple and inflamed, new bruises layering over the old in such a deliberate patchwork of pain that it had to have been made with purpose. He’s soaking wet from the river, and on the verge of hypothermia.

She needs to move him, or he’ll freeze to death. But—where? The police would be crawling through these woods at any minute, and even with the manoeuvres he took to avoid the dogs, she hadn’t taken the same precautions

“Frank. Frank!”

Shaking him, hands on his face, his cheek. When he doesn’t immediately respond, she raises a hand to hit him, but before she can, he lets out a weak cough, cracks open an eye.

“’thought I told you to stay away.”

“We have to move.”

Coughs again, although his voice is stronger when he speaks. “No hospitals.”

[planetsam]

pretty please with a cherry on top: a mileven fic (maybe aged up a little but) where some boy hits on el and mike goes into jealous but also protective boyfriend mode pls

“What was that?!”

Mike turns as El stares him down, air rushing through him at the furious look on her face. She’s mad at him and he feels like he’s waking up from a dream. He’s not afraid of her abilities, hasn’t been for a long long time but he’s afraid of the look on her face. He opens his mouth to explain but El jumps on it before he can.

“I said I was handling!”

Mike winces, not because of the tone but because of the missing word. Great bouts of emotion reduce her speech, this is no exception. But the emotion isn’t from the Neanderthal off a jock who touched uhh her knee during class, no, it’s from him cornering the guy and telling him to keep his hands off his girlfriend. If things were bad before, they’re worse now. He hates upsetting her.

“I know,” he says, looking down only to have her turn their height difference on him as she stares up at him.

“No, you forget, I said I was handling it. You’ll get hurt!”

“Hey!” He objects. He might not be telekinetic but he’s not useless, “that’s not fair.”

“You always fighting for me isn’t fair,” she objects, fixing him with a glare, “you never let me talk to the bullies.”

“Your talking isn’t the problem,” leaves his lips.

He’s fucked up.

Bad.

She reels back with a gasp and when Mike opens his mouth to explain or just apologize, he finds himself quite stuck where he is. It’s not painful, but it’s like the universe has collapsed upon him and is strongly suggesting he reconsider moving. It’s not a negotiation. She’s furious and upset, he feels like complete crap even though the current situation is more or less proving his point. He won’t risk her using her powers on anyone who doesn’t have her best interest at heart—unless it’s a permanent thing. He might have fantasies about killing anyone whose ever hurt him, but they aren’t things he’d act upon. There’s been enough suffering and death in his lifetime already.

El grips her schoolbag and bounces on the balls of her feet, torn between huffing off and not leaving him alone. She doesn’t exactly want to let him go though. Like they’ve practiced a million times she closes her eyes and takes three measured deep breaths, but unlike those practices the vice around him doesn’t let up. Doesn’t change at all, actually, and a part of him wants to congratulate her the separation from her emotions.

“I’ll let you go when I am at the station,” she informs him, “I will talk to you Monday,” she continues , “Monday,” she repeats, “you think about being my boyfriend and figure out how to handle it.”

Then, just because the universe is especially cruel today, she kisses the corner of his mouth and runs off. Twenty minutes later her power releases him and he barely catches himself from dropping to the ground. He doesn’t catch himself from swearing loud enough that the vice principal gives him three days of detention. It rains on the way home, just because. Even though it’s only four, Mike drops face first onto the bed and decides not to chance it.

He has the same nightmare.

They’re younger again and instead of hiding for good reasons she’s hiding because she doesn’t want to see him again. He’s weak, he didn’t protect her. He wasn’t strong enough. Her head’s shaved always, but sometimes she’s also hurt. Sometimes she isn’t, but there’s a hollow look to her that he feels sick at. Her voice echos back to him, colder than he ever remembers.

‘Goodbye. Mike.’

He bolts up in bed, sheets tangled and shirt wet with sweat. He gasps unsteadily in the darkness, stupidly looking for El even though she swore they weren’t going to speak until Monday and she is good at keeping her promises. That doesn’t mean he’s alone though. Holly’s sitting at his desk, what he assumes is his dinner near her elbow. She isn’t watching him, she’s reading. He isn’t stupid enough to think she’s not aware of him though.

“Thanks,” he mumbles as he changes his shirt.

“You look terrible,” she says, “not just nightmare terrible. Did El dump you?”

“No!” He says, “we had a fight.”

“Oh,” she says, “what did you do?”

“I yelled at someone who touched her.”

Holly nods and flips the text book page.

“She’s probably just worried like you are,” She says cutting through to the core of it, “Jonathan and Nancy used to fight about that too.”

Mike looks surprised on purpose but Holly rolls her eyes. She talks anyway though.

“Nancy said he was a Neanderthal and he said he wanted her to be safe. She told him to shove it and kicked him out.”

“Yeah, but—“

“Well then he came back and said that they should work together because they would both be safe then. That’s why she agreed to marry him.”

Mike looks over at the card he’s got pinned up, reminding them that the wedding is taking place in a few months. They’re both in the respective wedding parties. El’s going to be his date and Will’s told him that there’s an early draft of Jonathan’s vows that involve the words ‘bear trap’. His sister doesn’t have super powers, but she definitely is the type to not stand for the kind of shit he pulled.

“I’d be honest,” Holly advises.

“Thank you for that,” Mike says sarcastically, “would you wait for Monday too?”

“Only if I didn’t want to be single,” she says and flips the page.

He drive to El’s cabin early Monday morning. He isn’t surprised to find Jim Hopper out there, a pack of cigarettes in a tiny ball in his hand. He looks up at Mike who prepares himself for whatever comes next. Hopper just shakes his head and tosses the ball away, managing to swear only once when it smacks him in the back of the head.

“I live in a convent,” he complains, “no smoking, no littering,” he raises his voice, “am I allowed inside, Mother Superior?”

“No!” Comes the reply, “Mike first!”

“You have fifteen minutes before I bring down the wrath of God,” he says and the door swings open. Mike goes inside. The cabin is much cozier and seems to get more so every time he visits. He knows which seat is his and takes it. El appears with waffles and sets them down before sitting across from him. She’s dressed nicely and Mike is torn between appreciating the view and bracing himself for the hurricane that might follow. Too many soap operas have made her firmly hold to fights happening when she’s dressed up, but there aren’t any sparkles so he thinks he might have a shot.

“I want to keep you safe,” she says in a measured tone.

“I want to keep you safe,” he says emphasizing it, “El you’ve got powers but that doesn’t mean—“

“Not powers,” she cuts in, “I want to keep you safe here too,” she says pointing at her chest, “dating me is hard.”

“El—“

“Let me finish,” she says and he presses his lips together, “dating me is hard, it will get harder. You have to give up things. More than most,” she looks at him, “I love you, but if you need to go you can.”

He waits for her to continue but she looks down, signaling him that she’s finished. He’s immediately up and coming around the table, kneeling near her so that she doesn’t get up. She looks at him, struggling to close off her emotions. Struggling to look strong. She is strong in so many ways, she might be strongest in ways like this.

“I would give up everything to be with you,” he says firmly, “Hey—hey you know that,” he reminds her, “it hasn’t changed. I don’t just want to keep you safe, I want you to be happy. I thought I could take on just this one thing,” his heart aches as a tear trickles down her cheek, “don’t cry,” he pleads, “El I was being dumb. I will let you handle it next time. El—“

“I put gum in Cindy’s hair!” She confesses, “she said you were dreamy and I—I put gum in her hair. You were right!”

He sighs her name and pulls her into his arms right before the guilty tears come out. She clings to him tightly as he whispers nonsense and kisses the top of her curls. The hard thing, they’ve learned, isn’t just that he sacrifices. It’s that sometimes she feels like the monster and doesn’t understand how he can be okay with it. She doesn’t understand how he stays past her mistakes and shortcomings, doesn’t understand that he has them too. That her humanity is what he fell in love with. She’s half in his lap and he stays on the floor until the torrent of emotion ebbs.

“You know I don’t care about Cindy,” he says and she nods.

“You know I didn’t care about Matt,” she says and he frowns, “the boy in the lab, his name was Matt,” she elaborates.

“Oh,” he says, he didn’t know that and didn’t care. El rolls her eyes at him, “Okay we both have to work on this,” he realizes aloud. El looks up at him hopefully, “we’ll do better ok? We’ll try.”

“Promise?” She says. He nods.

“Promise.”

She helps him up as she wipes her cheeks and opens the door for Hopper. He appraises her outfit and sighs that there’s no glitter.

“I put gum in Cindy’s hair,” she says and he nods.

“Yeah, but I already talked to your principal about it,” he says. She looks surprised, “I caught Cindy smoking behind the school. She dropped it.”

Mike grins before Hopper glares at him and he goes back to his waffles. Under the tiny table, he feels one of El’s feet hook around his ankle. He softens at the weight of it.

“You’re still grounded though,” Hopper adds.

“Fine,” El huffs, knowing she got off easy all things considered.